The glittering white of the forest assumed a more
somber tinge, clouds marched up in solemn procession from the
southwest, and mobilized in the center of the heavens, a wind, touched
with damp, blew. Robert knew very well what the elements portended and
again he was sorry for Tayoga, but as before, after the first few
moments of discouragement his courage leaped up higher than ever. His
brilliant imagination at once painted a picture in which every detail
was vivid and full of life, and this picture was of a vast forest,
trees and bushes alike clothed in ice, and in the center of it a
slender figure, but straight, tall and strong, Tayoga himself speeding
on like the arrow from the bow, never wavering, never weary. Then his
mind allowed the picture to fade. Wilton might not believe Tayoga
could succeed, but how could this young Quaker know Tayoga as he knew
him?
The clouds, having finished their mobilization in the center of the
heavens, soon spread to the horizon on every side. Then a single great
white flake dropped slowly and gracefully from the zenith, fell within
the palisade, and melted before the eyes of Robert and Wilton. But it
was merely a herald of its fellows which, descending at first like
skirmishers, soon thickened into companies, regiments, brigades,
divisions and armies.
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