The situation called for a courage
and calmness of reasoning that neither of us could compass, and I have
never before been so clearly conscious of two persons in me--the one that
explained everything, and the other that laughed at such foolish
explanations, yet was horribly afraid.
Meanwhile, in the pitchy night the fire died down and the wood pile grew
small. Neither of us moved to replenish the stock, and the darkness
consequently came up very close to our faces. A few feet beyond the circle
of firelight it was inky black. Occasionally a stray puff of wind set the
willows shivering about us, but apart from this not very welcome sound a
deep and depressing silence reigned, broken only by the gurgling of the
river and the humming in the air overhead.
We both missed, I think, the shouting company of the winds.
At length, at a moment when a stray puff prolonged itself as though the
wind were about to rise again, I reached the point for me of saturation,
the point where it was absolutely necessary to find relief in plain speech,
or else to betray myself by some hysterical extravagance that must have
been far worse in its effect upon both of us. I kicked the fire into a
blaze, and turned to my companion abruptly. He looked up with a start.
"I can't disguise it any longer," I said; "I don't like this place, and the
darkness, and the noises, and the awful feelings I get. There's something
here that beats me utterly. I'm in a blue funk, and that's the plain truth.
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