On the bank of the river a negro crept back and forth by the cabin of the German. He was evidently waiting for some one, as he stopped now and then and peered intently toward the cabin on the hill, then kept his creeping pace.
A man kept along a dark shadow, stealing toward the cabin. He drew near, then listened; crept on a little, then listened again. All was quiet; he stole up to its walls, then stopped and listened a third time.
Jeffries was snoring inside. He crept round to the other side and stood under the window. Inside was beauty, innocence and virtue; outside was beauty, cunning and wickedness. He placed his hand on the sill.
Creak!
He peered in. By the pale moonlight he could see the fair girl in deep sleep—deep and placid. The pure white covering fell daintily over her as she lay there, with a smile on her lips, and a sweet expression on her face. She was dreaming of him.
He could not hear her breath—it was too soft and gentle; but he could tell by the gentle rise and fall, and by the placid expression of her face, that she was in a deep sleep.
Creak!
He stood for a moment, gazing at her, with a smile on his comely face. Then he turned and went from the shadow of the cabin out into the bright moonlight. Drawing a white handkerchief from his green coat he waved it briskly above his head.
Down on the river bank, near the German’s cabin, a bright light glowed for a moment, and a white object waved. Then both disappeared.
He stole back with another smile and again stood under the window.