And now, with the blood seeming to flow more swiftly through our chilled frames, came the pipings and twitterings of the birds at the edge of the forest; there was a misty light, then a roseate flush overhead which rapidly changed to orange above and below. The black mirror spangled with diamonds and gold had gone, and as we sat there with the water lapping now over the ridge, which was quite invisible, the sun’s edge rose over the forest, glorifying the tops of the trees, and the great green cypress stood up with golden gleams darting through it, and offering us an inviting refuge from the peril in which we were placed.
“Now, Morgan, ready?” said my father, as he stood up and shook his limbs.
“Yes, sir, ready. Cheer up, old lass; we’ll soon get you there.”
I caught a glimpse of Sarah’s white despairing face, but my attention was taken up directly by my father’s words.
“Come, Pompey, brave lad, jump in and swim across to the big tree, and show us the way.”
“Iss, massa,” cried the boy; and he started up and dived in plump, to disappear, and then his black head popped up. “Come ’long, Mass’ George,” he cried; “so lubbly warm.”
“Yes; in with you!” cried my father; and I rose, hesitated a moment, and then plunged in, to find that by comparison with the air the water was quite warm.
“I dab fuss,” cried Pompey, and he swam on to soon reach one of the boughs, and turn round to wait for me.
I did not keep him long; and as soon as we had seated ourselves astride of the great branch just level with the water, we stayed to watch the coming of the rest.
That little swim after the effort required to make the first plunge was simplicity itself to us boys; and consequently I looked almost wonderingly at the effort it caused my father and Morgan to get across with Sarah, whom they supported between them.