trout's back they would fain decipher, little heeding the warning that
what is written here is not given to woman to know.

Our only tent or roof was the sheltering arms of the great birches and
maples. What was sauce for the gander should be sauce for the goose,
too, so the goose insisted. A luxurious couch of boughs upon springing
poles was prepared, and the night should be not less welcome than the
day, which had indeed been idyllic. (A trout dinner had been served by
a little spring brook, upon an improvised table covered with moss and
decked with ferns, with strawberries from a near clearing.)

At twilight there was an ominous rumble behind the mountains. I was on
the lake, and could see what was brewing there in the west.

As darkness came on, the rumbling increased, and the mountains and the
woods and the still air were such good conductors of sound that the ear
was vividly impressed. One seemed to feel the enormous convolutions of
the clouds in the deep and jarring tones of the thunder. The coming of
night in the woods is alone peculiarly impressive, and it is doubly so
when out of the darkness comes such a voice as this. But we fed the
fire the more industriously, and piled the logs high, and kept the
gathering gloom at bay by as large a circle of light as we could
command. The lake was a pool of ink and as still as if congealed; not a
movement or a sound, save now and then a terrific volley from the cloud
batteries now fast approaching. By nine o'clock little puffs of wind
began to steal through the woods and tease and toy with our fire.
Shortly after, an enormous electric bombshell exploded in the treetops
over our heads, and the ball was fairly opened. Then followed three
hours, with only two brief intermissions, of as lively elemental music
and as copious an outpouring of rain as it was ever my lot to witness.