The men were sparely built, with
high, prominent cheek bones, long, hollow cheeks and shaven mouths touched
with sardonic humor, under undented, black felt hats. There were an
appreciable number of invalids and leaden-faced idiots.

The way grew wilder, the natural forms shrunk, the valley became a small
plain of broken, rocky hillocks matted with thorny bushes, surrounded by
marshes of rank grass, flags, half-grown osiers. The vehicles, drawn into
a single way, crowded together, progressed slowly. Gordon saw in the back
of the buggy before him two whiskey jugs. Some one far ahead began to sing
a revival hymn, and it ran along the line of carriages like a trail of
ignited powder. A deep bass caught it behind Gordon Makimmon, then the
piercing soprano of a woman farther back.

The camp meeting spread over a small, irregular plateau surrounded by
swamp and sluggish streams. Gordon turned off the road, and drove over a
rough, short descent to a ledge of solid ground by a stream and fringe of
willows. The spring torrents had subsided, leaving the grass, the willows,
covered with a grey, crackling coat of mud; the air had a damp, fetid
smell; beyond, the swamp bubbled gaseously. The close line of hitched
teams disappeared about an elbow of the thicket; groups of men gathered
in the noisome shadows, bottles were passed, heads thrown back and arms
bent aloft.

Above, a great, sagging tent was staked to the obdurate ground. To the
left a wooden floor had been temporarily laid about a four-square, open
counter, now bare, with a locked shed for storage. Before Gordon was the
sleeping tent for women. The sun seemed unable to dispel the miasma of the
swamp, the surrounding aspect of mean desolation. The scene was petty,
depressing. It was surcharged by a curious air of tension, of suspense, a
brooding, treacherous hysteria, an ugly, raw, emotional menace. A service
was in progress; a sustained, convulsive murmur came from within, a
wordless, fluctuating lament. Suddenly it was pierced by a shrill, high
scream, a voice tormented out of all semblance to reason. The sound grew
deeper and louder; it swung into a rhythm which formed into words, lines,
a primitive chant that filled the plateau, swelled out over the swamp. It
continued for an incredible length of time, rising to an unbearable pitch,
then it died away in a great gasp.

A thin, sinister echo rose from among the willows--emotional, shrill
curses, a brief, raving outburst