The night lay thick, save where bright tongues of the dying campfire vainly
endeavored to lap up the surrounding black. The flames cast a ruddy glow upon the silent,
dreamy, khaki-clothed group as they lay at ease within the radius of it's protective warmth.
Now and then one heard a crackling as living embers broke off and fell into the coals. And
then one saw a brilliant race of sparks heaven-ward. From far over the meadow wailed the
enchanting call of the Whip-poor-will. Back from the opposite hill echoed the tremulous
"whoo" of an owl. A step away, where the overhanging stars gently wavered in the quiet
pool, ancient bullfrogs vied with one another for "low C" while tiny peepers rivaled the
crickets in their falsetto.

Dorris Willows
English II 11
Theme 12

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