I soon began to make the woods resound with the name of Outalisso; but in the course of the day a tempest of wind arose, and raged with so much noise that I could hardly hear my own voice. A dense mist filled the air, and involved everything in such obscurity that the sphere of my vision did not extend beyond five or six yards. The fog was in continual agitation, rolling along in volumes, ascending and descending, bursting open and closing again, and assuming strange and transitory forms. Every time the blast received an accession of force, I heard a confused roaring and crashing at a distance, which gradually increased in strength and distinctness, till it reached that part of the forest that stretched around me. Then the trees began to creak and groan incessantly, their boughs were shattered against each other, fibres of wood whirled through the air in every direction, and showers of withered leaves, caught up and swept along by the wind, met and mingled with them, and rendered the confusion still more distracting. I stood still in one spot, looking fearfully from side to side, in the prospect of being crushed to death by some immense mass of falling timber, for the trees around me, when viewed through the distorting medium of the fog, often appeared to have lost their perpendicularity, and to be bending towards the earth, although they only waved in the wind. At last I crept under the trunk of an oak that lay along the ground, resolving to remain there until the tempest should abate.
A short time before sunset the wind had ceased, the mists were dissipated, and a portion of the blue sky appeared directly above me. Encouraged by these favourable appearances, I ventured from my place of refuge, and began to think of making another attempt to regain the great tree, when I heard the report of a rifle. I was so petrified with joy and surprise that I had no power to call out till the firing was repeated. I then shouted "Outalisso!" several times, and soon saw him advancing towards me.
"Why are you not at the place I appointed?" cried he; "I feared you had lost yourself, and discharged my gun as a signal. But all danger is past. Thakakawerenté is dead--I killed him." There was some blood on Outalisso's dress, but he looked so calm and careless that I hesitated to believe what he told me.