July midnight
`` We 'll find him now , Peter , '' moaned the girl . `` We 'll find him -- now . He ca n't be very far ahead -- '' And Peter waited , holding his breath , listening for an answer to the cry that went out for Jolly Roger McKay . The glory of July midnight , with a round , full moon straight overhead , followed the stress of storm . The world had been lashed and inundated , every tree whipped of its rot and slag , every blade of grass and flower washed clean . Out of the earth rose sweet smells of growing life , the musky fragrance of deep moss and needle-mold , and through the clean air drifted faintly the aroma of cedar and balsam and the subtle tang of unending canopies and glistening tapestries of evergreen breathing into the night . The deep forest seemed to tremble with the presence of an invisible and mysterious life -- life that was still , yet wide-awake , breathing , watchful , drinking in the rejuvenating tonic of the air which had so quietly followed thunder and lightning and the roar of wind and rain .