A little farther on, and the horses standing sleepily at their tethers, their heads drooping in a doze.

Beyond them, and all is darkness and wilderness.

No human dwelling or being beyond the little encampment I have quitted; the dark lake reflecting the stars like a mirror, and the thin crescent moon giving a pale and indistinct glare which just makes night visible.
It is a lovely hour then to wander forth and wait for wild sounds.

All is still except the tiny hum of the mosquitoes.

Then the low chuckling note of the night hawk sounds soft and melancholy in the distance; and again all is still, save the heavy and impatient stamp of a horse as the mosquitoes irritate him by their bites.