Then she turned towards the fire that burned at the foot of a ledge.

Two or three figures moved about the rocks behind it; sometimes picked out with hard distinctness so that she could see their brown faces and travel-stained overalls, and sometimes fading into gloom.
The smoke went nearly straight up and then spread slowly across the river; the flames leaped among the snapping branches and sank.

Strong lights and puzzling shadows played about the camp; there was an aromatic smell, and the air was keen and bracing.

The turmoil of the river rather emphasized than disturbed the quietness.

It was different from the noisy city where the big arc-lights burned above the hurrying crowds, but Agatha did not find it strange.