amoring of the wild
fowl in the lagoon back of us, and this seemed to make the boys
restless. It was Jean Lafitte, next, who poked his head out from under
the tarpaulin.

"I've got the gun all right," said he, "and a lot of shells. In the
morning we'll go out and get some of those ducks that are squawking."

"Yes, Jean," said I; "we're in one of the best ducking countries on
this whole coast."

"That's fine--we can live chiefly by huntin' and fishin', like it says
in the g'ographies."

"If the wind should shift," said I, "we may have to do that for quite
a time. I don't know whether the lighthouse keeper has a boat or not,
and the channel lies between us and the light--it makes out here
straight to the Gulf. But now, be quiet, my sons, and see if we can't
all get some sleep. I'll take care of the fire."

I passed a little apart to hunt for some driftwood, my shadow, John,
following close at hand. When I returned I found a muffled figure
standing at the feeble blaze. Helena raised her eyes, grave and
serious.

"It was splendid," said she in a low tone of voice, addressing not so
much myself as all the world, it seemed to me.

"Get back in there and go to sleep," said I. And, quietly she obeyed,
so far as I might tell.

For my own part, I did not seek the shelter of the other boat, but,
wrapped in sweater and slicker, stood in the rain, John at my side.
Once in a while we set out in the dark to find more wood for the
little fire. In some way the long night wore on. Toward morning the
rain ceased. It seemed to me that the rocking search-light of the
_Belle Helene_ made scarce so wide an arc across the bay. The
lighthouse ray shone less furry and yellow through the night. The wind
began to lull, coming in gusts, at times after some moments of calm.
The roll of the sea still came in, but sometimes I almost fancied that
the surf was bellowing not so loud. And so at length, the dawn came,
softening the gloom, and I could hear the roar of the great bodies of
wild fowl rising as they always do at dawn, the tumult of their wings
rivaling the heavy rhythm of the surf itself.

The advancing calm of nature seemed to quiet the senses of the
sleepers, even in their sleep. Gently making up the fire for the last
time, as the gray light began to come across the beach, I wandered
inland a little way in search of the fresh water lagoon. Its edge lay
not more than two or three hundred yards back of our bivouac. So, as
best I mi