Yet it was still dim in the gorge, save where the glowing bed of coals cast a circle of light.

The Kentucky, showing a faint tinge of blue, flowed with a soft murmur.
Harry and Ike were lying on the grass, propped each on one elbow, while Jarvis, sitting with his back against a small tree, was still singing: "When in thy dreaming, moons like these shall shine again And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain, Wilt thou not, relenting, for thy absent lover sigh?
In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by, 'Nita, Juanita, let me linger by thy side; 'Nita, Juanita, be thou my own fair bride." The song ceased and the murmur of the river came more clearly.

Harry was drawn deeper and deeper into the old dim past.

Lying there in the gorge, with only the river to be seen, the wilderness came back, and the whole land was clothed with the mighty forests.

He brought himself back with an effort, when he saw Jarvis looking at him and smiling.
"'Tain't so bad down here on a spring night, is it, Harry ?" he said.
"Always purvidin', as I said, that it don't rain." "Where did you get that song, Sam ?" asked Harry--they had already fallen into the easy habit of calling one another by their first names.
"From a travelin' feller that wandered up into our mount'ins.