One afternoon he had strolled for several miles
along a road that was new to him, and then through a wood on bad advice
from a colored woman . . . losing himself entirely. A passing storm
decided to break out, and to his great impatience the sky grew black
as pitch and the rain began to splatter down through the trees, become
suddenly furtive and ghostly. Thunder rolled with menacing crashes up
the valley and scattered through the woods in intermittent batteries.
He stumbled blindly on, hunting for a way out, and finally, through
webs of twisted branches, caught sight of a rift in the trees where the
unbroken lightning showed open country. He rushed to the edge of the
woods and then hesitated whether or not to cross the fields and try to
reach the shelter of the little house marked by a light far down the
valley. It was only half past five, but he could see scarcely ten steps
before him, except when the lightning made everything vivid and grotesque
for great sweeps around.
Suddenly a strange sound fell on his ears. It was a song, in a low,
husky voice, a girl's voice, and whoever was singing was very close
to him.
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