"
He spoke with deadly earnestness as he continued to look at the tiny
dusky spot on the western sky. Harry had a feeling of awe. Again he
realized that such mighty issues could turn upon a single hair. The
increase or decrease of that black splotch might mean the death or life
of the Confederacy. As he rode he watched it.
His heart sank slowly. The little baby cloud, looking so harmless,
was growing. He said to himself in anger that it was not, but he knew
that it was. Black at the center, it radiated in every direction until
it became pale gray at the edges, and by and by, as it still spread,
it gave to the southwest an aspect that was distinctly sinister.
Sherburne shook his head and the gravity of his face increased. As the
cloud grew alarm grew with it in his mind.
"Maybe it will pass," said Harry hopefully.
"I don't think so. It's not moving away. It just hangs there and grows
and grows. You're a woodsman, Harry, and you ought to feel it. Don't
you think the atmosphere has changed?"
"I didn't have the courage to say so until you asked me, but it's damper.
If I were posing as a prophet I should say that we're going to have rain."
"And so should I. Usually at this period of the year in our country we
want rain, but now we dread it like a pestilence.
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