"Not often in the nighttime."

Reuther shuddered.

Mr. Black regarded her anxiously. Had he done wrong to let her
join him in this strange ride?

"Shall we go back and wait for broad daylight?" he asked.

"No, no. I could not bear the suspense of wondering whether all
was going well and the opportunity being given you of seeing and
speaking to him. We have taken such precautions--chosen so late
(or should I say so early) a start--that I'm sure we have
outwitted the man who is so watchful of us. But if we go back, we
cannot slip away from him again; and Oliver will have to submit to
an humiliation it is our duty to spare him. And the good judge,
too. I don't care if the loons do cry; the night is beautiful."

And it was, had their hearts been in tune to enjoy it. A gibbous
moon had risen, and, inefficient as it was to light up the
recesses of the forest, it illumined the tree-tops and brought out
the difference between earth and sky. The road, known to the
horses, if not to themselves, extended like a black ribbon under
their eyes, but the patches of light which fell across it at
intervals took from it the uninterrupted gloom it must have
otherwise had. Mr. Sloan, who was at once their guide and host,
promised that dawn would be upon them before they reached the huge
gully which was the one dangerous feature of the road. But as yet
there were no signs of dawn; and to Reuther, as well as to Mr.