rom the lake, descended into the
valley, and climbed the hill on the opposite side. By the time he
reached the height above the waterfront, the dusk had deepened into a
weird darkness. Here he paused and looked down upon the strange scene
below. Hundreds of camp-fires, large and small, emitted their fitful
ruddy glow, while beyond, the lights of a score of anchored ships were
reflected in the wind-ruffled water. A murmur of many voices drifted
up to the silent watcher on the brow of the hill, mingled with shrill
cries of children, and the sound of beating hammers, as weary men
worked late at their rude dwellings.

Down into this Babel of confusion Dane slowly made his way. He passed
the spot where he had met the Major, and he looked eagerly for the girl
who had won his heart. But she was nowhere to be seen, although a
small fire was burning near the shack, before which the colored woman
was keeping watch, swaying her body, and humming her favourite psalm.

Farther down the hill the people had settled closer together, and as
Dane moved through this strange medley of shacks, brush houses, tents,
sails fastened to sticks driven into the ground, and other rude
contrivances, he realised for the first time the sadly-pathetic
condition of these outcast people. Although many of them were hidden
from view, he could see numbers huddled about their fires, and children
wrapped in blankets asleep upon the ground, while here and there tired
mothers were nursing and soothing their fretful babes.

Little attention was paid to the young courier as he moved from place
to place, except an occasional glance at his curious costume. In fact,
most of these exiles were strangers to one another, as they had come on
different ships, and had only met for the first time on the day of
their landing. The ones who had sailed on the same vessels, and had
thus become acquainted, naturally kept together as much as possible.
But they were all comrades in distress, sufferers in a common cause,
united by the golden bond of sympathy.

Down by the water men were sorting out and piling up their household
effects, which had been carelessly dumped upon the shore. But others
not so engaged were gathered in little groups around camp-fires, either
discussing their present prospects, or relating their experiences on
the vessels, and their hardships during and after the war. To some of
these tales Dane listened with wide-eyed wonder, and a burning
ind