At length his repose
was without such interruptions. His eyes closed, and though at first
they open'd languidly again at intervals, after a while they shut
altogether. Could it be that he slept? It was so indeed. Yielding to
the drowsy influences about him, and to his prolong'd weariness of
travel, he had fallen into a deep, sound slumber. Thus he lay; and
Black Nell, the original cause of his departure from his home--by a
singular chance, the companion of his return--quietly cropp'd the
grass at his side.
An hour nearly pass'd away, and yet the young man slept on. The light
and heat were not glaring now; a change had come over earth and
heaven. There were signs of one of those thunderstorms that in our
climate spring up and pass over so quickly and so terribly. Masses
of vapor loom' d up in the horizon, and a dark shadow settled on the
woods and fields. The leaves of the great oak rustled together over
the youth's head. Clouds flitted swiftly in the sky, like bodies of
armed men coming up to battle at the call of their leader's trumpet.
A thick rain-drop fell now and then, while occasionally hoarse
mutterings of thunder sounded in the distance; yet the slumberer was
not arous'd. It was strange that Wild Frank did not awake. Perhaps
his ocean life had taught him to rest undisturbed amid the jarring of
elements. Though the storm was now coming on in its fury, he slept
like a babe in its cradle.
Black Nell had ceased grazing, and stood by her sleeping master with
ears erect, and her long mane and tail waving in the wind.
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