"Only a snowy heron."

The Seminole had halted and laid his hand flat on the dead leaves under
a gigantic water-oak.

"A-po-kes-chay," he whispered; and Shiela translated close to Hamil's
ear: "He says that we must all sit down here--" A sudden crackle in the
darkness stilled her voice.

"Im-po-kit-chkaw?" she asked. "Did you hear that? No-ka-tee; what is
it?"

"Deer walk," nodded the Seminole; "sun gone down; moon come. Bimeby
roost um turkey. Li-kus-chay! No sound."

Shiela settled quietly on the poncho among the dead leaves, resting her
back against the huge tree trunk. Hamil warily sank into position beside
her; the Indian stood for a while, head raised, apparently gazing at the
tree-tops, then, walking noiselessly forward a dozen yards, squatted.

Shiela opened the conversation presently by whispering that they must
not speak.

And the conversation continued, fitfully in ghostly whispers, lips
scarcely stirring close to one another's ears.

As for the swamp, it was less reticent, and began to wake up all around
them in the darkness. Strange creaks and quacks and croaks broke out,
sudden snappings of twigs, a scurry among dead leaves, a splash in the
water, the far whir of wings. There were no insect noises, no resonant
voices of bull-frogs; weird squeaks arose at intervals, the murmuring
complaint of water-fowl, guttural quack of duck and bittern--a vague
stirring everywhere of wild things settling to rest or awaking. There
were things moving in the unseen ooze, too, leaving sudden sinuous
trails in the dim but growing lustre that whitened above the
trees--probably turtles, perhaps snakes.

She leaned almost imperceptibly toward him, and he moved his shoulder
close to hers.

"You are not nervous, Shiela?"

"Indeed I am."

"Why on earth did you come?"

"I don't know. The idea of snakes in darkness always worries me....
Once, waking in camp, reaching out through the darkness for the
water-bottle, I laid my hand on an exceedingly chilly snake. It was a
harmless one, but I nearly died.... And here I am back again. Believe
me, _no_ burnt child ever dreaded the fire enough to keep away from it.
I'm a coward, but not enough of a one to practise prudence."

He laughed silently. "You brave little thing! Every moment I am learning
more and more how adorable you are--"

"Do men adore folly?"

"Your kind of folly. Are you cold?"

"No; only foolish. There's some sort of live creature moving rather
close