ttered wits readjusted themselves. Never more sane, never more
himself, he rose to his feet and stood looking off into the night across
the Seed ranch.

"What was it?" he murmured, bewildered.

He looked around him from side to side, as if to get in touch with
reality once more. He looked at his hands, at the rough bark of the pear
tree next which he stood, at the streaked and rain-eroded walls of
the Mission and garden. The exaltation of his mind calmed itself; the
unnatural strain under which he laboured slackened. He became thoroughly
master of himself again, matter-of-fact, practical, keen.

But just so sure as his hands were his own, just so sure as the bark
of the pear tree was rough, the mouldering adobe of the Mission walls
damp--just so sure had Something occurred. It was vague, intangible,
appealing only to some strange, nameless sixth sense, but none the less
perceptible. His mind, his imagination, sent out from him across the
night, across the little valley below him, speeding hither and thither
through the dark, lost, confused, had suddenly paused, hovering, had
found Something. It had not returned to him empty-handed. It had come
back, but now there was a change--mysterious, illusive. There were no
words for this that had transpired. But for the moment, one thing only
was certain. The night was no longer voiceless, the dark was no longer
empty. Far off there, beyond the reach of vision, unlocalised, strange,
a ripple had formed on the still black pool of the night, had formed,
flashed one instant to the stars, then swiftly faded again. The night
shut down once more. There was no sound--nothing stirred.

For the moment, Vanamee stood transfixed, struck rigid in his place,
stupefied, his eyes staring, breathless with utter amazement. Then,
step by step, he shrank back into the deeper shadow, treading with the
infinite precaution of a prowling leopard. A qualm of something very
much like fear seized upon him. But immediately on the heels of this
first impression came the doubt of his own senses. Whatever had happened
had been so ephemeral, so faint, so intangible, that now he wondered
if he had not deceived himself, after all. But the reaction followed.
Surely, there had been Something. And from that moment began for him
the most poignant uncertainty of mind. Gradually he drew back into the
garden, holding his breath, listening to every faintest sound, walking
upon tiptoe. He reached the fountain, and wett