In spite of what physical effort he had made, his head did
not hurt him, and his mind was keenly alive. He returned to the
window through which he could see the fires on the western shore,
and found no difficulty in opening it. A strong screen netting
kept him from thrusting out his head and shoulders. Through it
came the cool night breeze of the river. It seemed good to fill
his lungs with it again and smell the fresh aroma of the forest.
It was very dark, and the fires across the river were brighter
because of the deep gloom. There was no promise of the moon in the
sky. He could not see a star. From far in the west he caught the
low intonation of thunder.
Carrigan turned from the window to the end of the cabin in which
the piano stood. Here, too, was the second divan, and he saw the
meaning now of two close-tied curtains, one at each side of the
cabin. Drawn together on a taut wire stretched two inches under
the ceiling, they shut off this end of the bateau and turned at
least a third of the cabin into the privacy of the woman's
bedroom. With growing uneasiness David saw the evidences that this
had been her sleeping apartment. At each side of the piano was a
small door, and he opened one of these just enough to discover
that it was a wardrobe closet.
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