The gloom deepened slowly with the coming of the night. The waters darkened, the dun forest became black and vague. At last, to my eyes, it seemed that the sailing shadows in the sky, the inky, swirling stream, and the mysterious shores blended in one all-pervading impenetrable midnight. I could not realize that we were moving; it seemed, rather, that we alone were still, while over us and around us the spirits of the night flew past. I felt the wind of unseen wings lifting my hair; I heard the splash and gurgle of strange creatures swimming by. With my hands close locked on Barbara's arm, and wide eyes staring into nothingness, I waited for some human sound to break the palpitating silence. Finally the padre spoke. He asked some question in the Indian tongue. One of the rowers grunted in reply, and there was a sudden cessation of the rapid paddle-strokes. Then a signal was given to the other canoe, and after some further discussion I felt that we approached the shore. There was a scraping, jarring sound, followed by the soft trampling of feet upon a marshy bank; and then a hand drew me up and guided me to land. "The tide is running too strongly against us," explained the voice of Padre Felipe. "We will rest an hour or two and wait for it to turn." They kindled a fire somehow and spread a blanket upon the damp ground. I remember that Barbara and I stretched ourselves upon it and I laid my head against the dame's shoulder,--then weariness overcame me. It seemed the very next moment that I was roused; but the fire was out, and in the sky glimmered a few dim stars. There was a strange calm reigning as we re-embarked; for the wind had died and the whole aspect of the night had changed. All around us a faintly luminous sky lifted itself above the dense horizon line, and the broad bosom of the river paled to the hue of molten lead. Still brighter grew the heavens; the thin clouds drew aside, and the crescent of a waning moon spilled glory over us. And now our dark piraguas sped over the surface of a silver stream, and every paddle-blade dripped diamonds. It is a noble river, this San Juan, with its broad sweeps and curves. At times it widens to a lake, and again thrusts itself into the shores as though its waters filled the print of some giant hand that in ages past had rested heavily with outspread fingers on the yielding soil. Aided by the strong current we glided on as swiftly as the passing hours. Our faces were set eastward now, and I waited, breathless, for the day to wake. There was a slow parting of the filmy skies, as though Dawn's rosy fingers brushed aside the curtains of her couch; then came a gleam of golden hair that slid across her downy pillows. A long-drawn sigh shivered across the silent world, and with a sudden dazzlement we saw-- --"the opening eyelids of the Morn."