The great moon was rising.
Hark! At the first ray of the moon there are heard low, mysterious sounds everywhere.

The forests are full of them--calls, like the coyote's bark, or bird-calls, or secret signals.

They are human voices.

They answer each other.

There are thousands of voices calling and answering.
The full moon now hangs low over the forests, golden as the morning sun in the mists of the calm sea.