CHAPTER XVIIDown by Copple’s Creek the weeds grew thick and rank, spangled themselves with golden, starry blossoms that in the evening made pale moons in groups and clusters, and lit the way along the limpid water by reflection. The old moon rose, and shed its thin radiance, lying on its back and looking down as it were over the edge of its couch, throwing lacy lights on the old swimming-hole through the fingers of the hemlocks.
Quite early in the evening, just after dark, a small shadowy figure stole from the road and threaded a shy way up among the trees, over the ridge and down among the purples and blacks of the wooded hills. Stealing stealthily on tired feet; cautiously, waiting now and then to listen; alert at the sound of a falling nut or a stirring bird, or a little black bat on w
