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The roaring of the wind suggested some bleak and Northern clime. The shutter crashed against the wall. At last she could bear the noise no longer, and she got up, went out on to the landing, and called out: "Ibrahim!" There was no answer. The lights were out. She felt afraid of the yawning darkness. "Ibrahim! Ibrahim!" she cried. She heard the sough of drapery, and a soft and striding step.
Whereupon solemn waving of hats; indistinct sough of loyal murmur from the universal Landshut Population; after which, continued to the due extent, they return to their spindles and shuttles again.
We were close by the fire, for McGilp liked to be hearing the sough of the wind in the lum, and him snug and warm. On the other side of the fire was Dol Beag, a man well over fifty, very silent, and I could not thole the look of his crooked back. But there was with him one of his own kidney, and he began to let his tongue wag.
A low sound like the "sough" of the sea or the distant falling of water came from the north; while at intervals the hoarse bark of the coyote and the yelling of terrified monkeys could be heard afar off in the woods. "Tapa la casa! tapa la casa!" "Anda! anda con los macates!" This was speedily fastened at all corners, and strong stays were carried out and warped around the trunks of trees.
This was boggy; here and there the foot sank with a sough into the pulp of morass and rotten leaves; the lianas were thinner and more snaky, the greenery, if possible, greener, and the air close and moist as the air of a steam-bath.
The sombre pines crowded in on the little stream, elbowing and whispering, leaving overhead but a gap of clear sky; on either hand the rugged sides of the cañon sloped steeply up amongst the timber and thick undergrowth, and never the note of a bird broke a silence which seemed only to be emphasised by the faint sough of the wind in the tree tops.
"Ae dreary, windy, winter night, The stars shot down wi' sklentin light, Wi' you, mysel, I got a fright Ayont the lough; Ye, like a rash-bush, stood in sight Wi' waving sough. "The cudgel in my nieve did shake, Each bristled hair stood like a stake, When wi' an eldritch stour, 'quaick! quaick! Among the springs Awa ye squatter'd, like a drake, On whistling wings."
Daybreak arrived without the black pilot having heard any sound, beyond that of the breeze rustling against the sail of the Catamaran or the hollow "sough" of the water as it surged against the empty casks lashed along their sides.
Thick rain-clouds were descending upon them, and we could hear the sough of the falling water. We knew that it would soon be upon us. "What's keepin' them anyhow?" inquired a voice. Our pursuers had time to have been up. The delay was unexpected. "The Lord only knows!" answered another. "I s'pose thar puttin' on a fresh coat o' paint at the town." "They'll get their paint washed off, I reckin.
They tried to pierce through the darkness so favorable to ambushes, for nothing could be heard but the noise of the tempest, the sough of the wind, the rattling branches, falling trees, and roaring of the unchained waters. At times the wind would cease for a few moments, as if to take breath.
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