The surface of the water became darker and darker, and his uneasiness increased. If she spent the night on the mist-enveloped stream, sitting in the little boat half-filled with water, she would probably catch her death. The bank which, so far, had sloped down to the reeds in slight declivities, became lower here. A dyke made by human hands replaced the natural one of boscage. Now the prospect was more open, but this availed nothing, for the face of the stream had become a monotonous dark blue. The moon had sunk, and only the reflection of a star here and there trembled, softly gleaming on the waters. Once more his call rang out into the distance. Croaking frogs held their tongues, and that was the only result. Here the outlying houses of Newferry showed in black outline near the dyke. Two or three mongrels rushed out of the yards, and set up a furious yapping, which Leo the hound received in lofty silence, till they, growing more impertinent, ventured to touch him. Then he seized them one after the other by the back, and administered a sound shaking. There was a faint whine, and all was still again. In the houses every one seemed to have gone to bed. The inn itself lay dark and deserted. Nowhere did a boat cast its shadow on the bank. Nevertheless, he stopped and called her name across to the house. He listened awhile, but no sound came except the renewed barking of the dogs. There would be time enough on his way back to wake the people of the inn, if he had not found her before that. He resumed his gallop over the loamy ground of the dyke, the black line of which uncoiled itself like a serpent before him, and was lost in the bluish haze down-stream. He passed more villages, two, three altogether, and met with the same luck everywhere. A cloud of steam rose from his horse's haunches, its head was sticky from sweat, and great flecks of foam flew about from its snorting nostrils. The dog's breath came in short, panting gasps, as if he too apparently had begun to come to the end of his powers. Leo calculated that he had ridden about two miles along the bank of the river. Further than this it would be impossible for her to have reached in the last four hours. Somewhere, then, within this compass she must yet be afloat, if she was not making her way home to Halewitz. He sent the dog into the reeds and began to ride back at a walking pace. The late-summer night slowly spread its white damp veil over the landscape. The crickets chirruped, and now and then there was a swish in the water, as a water-rat shot out from the shore into the mirror-like surface. By the time he had reached Newferry again, he had given up the search, and resolved to raise the alarm among the inhabitants. The conveyance from Halewitz had not arrived, for the inn still lay in darkness and silence.