Outside there was a sound of multitudinous little patterings.  They had been coming, I was aware, for a long time, and in my sleep they had first become audible.  I sat there nervously wide awake as though I had not slept at all.  It seemed to me that my breathing came with difficulty, and that there was a great weight upon the surface of my body.  In spite of the hot night, I felt clammy with cold and shivered.  Something surely was pressing steadily against the sides of the tent and weighing down upon it from above.  Was it the body of the wind?  Was this the pattering rain, the dripping of the leaves?  The spray blown from the river by the wind and gathering in big drops?  I thought quickly of a dozen things.

Then suddenly the explanation leaped into my mind:  a bough from the poplar, the only large tree on the island, had fallen with the wind.  Still half caught by the other branches, it would fall with the next gust and crush us, and meanwhile its leaves brushed and tapped upon the tight canvas surface of the tent.  I raised a loose flap and rushed out, calling to the Swede to follow.

But when I got out and stood upright I saw that the tent was free.  There was no hanging bough; there was no rain or spray; nothing approached.

A cold, grey light filtered down through the bushes and lay on the faintly gleaming sand.  Stars still crowded the sky directly overhead, and the wind howled magnificently, but the fire no longer gave out any glow, and I saw the east reddening in streaks through the trees.  Several hours must have passed since I stood there before watching the ascending figures, and the memory of it now came back to me horribly, like an evil dream.  Oh, how tired it made me feel, that ceaseless raging wind!  Yet, though the deep lassitude of a sleepless night was on me, my nerves were tingling with the activity of an equally tireless apprehension, and all idea of repose was out of the question.  The river I saw had risen further.  Its thunder filled the air, and a fine spray made itself felt through my thin sleeping shirt.

Yet nowhere did I discover the slightest evidence of anything to cause alarm.  This deep, prolonged disturbance in my heart remained wholly unaccounted for.

My companion had not stirred when I called him, and there was no need to waken him now.  I looked about me carefully, noting everything; the turned-over canoe; the yellow paddles—­two of them, I’m certain; the provision sack and the extra lantern hanging together from the tree; and, crowding everywhere about me, enveloping all, the willows, those endless, shaking willows.  A bird uttered its morning cry, and a string of duck passed with whirring flight overhead in the twilight.  The sand whirled, dry and stinging, about my bare feet in the wind.