f the dry grass beneath him
sounded to his excited fancy like the sudden rushing of a torrent.
He was almost overwhelmed by the fear of pulling himself
inadvertently up against one of those dark forms, for he did not
know where every one was lying. One false move now, and it would
mean the end of all things for him.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SECRET OF THE THICKET.

The night was close and still with the silence that intensifies
sound tenfold. Eustace thought he could not have had worse luck.
His temptation was to hurry; common sense bade him hold himself in
check. Panic urged him to risk everything, and make a bolt for it.
But Bob's precept was ringing in his mind--there were two sides to
the question; he might bolt, but where to in the dark? It was
useless to dash headlong into trees and make for nowhere in
particular. The plan was to get as far away as possible in the
dark, unheard, so that by daylight he would be out of sight, and
able to quicken his pace to some purpose.

Gliding, halting, scarcely breathing, he pulled himself along, and
great beads of perspiration started on his forehead and trickled
down into his eyes.

The darkness was useful in one way, but it had its disadvantages.
He had no idea what progress he was making, and it seemed ages
before his hand came against what he thankfully realized was the
bark of a tree. Almost simultaneously there was a blinding flash of
lightning, so vivid that for a full moment the sleeping camp lay
revealed, and Eustace had time to grasp the fact that he was well
within the outskirts of the wood. The crash of thunder almost
overhead brought him to his feet. Now was the time to make some
pace, in the dense darkness, under cover of that merciful noise.
Eustace was not the least afraid of thunder and lightning; he was
used to tremendous storms, and loved nothing better than to stand
out on the veranda to watch one raging round among the hills or out
at sea. Now it was a positive blessing. Every flash showed him
where he was, and he took care to have a tree trunk between himself
and the camp. Then during the thunder bursts he made his way
swiftly forward, groping cautiously like a blind man. His spirits
rose with the excitement, and all his courage came back to him.

By the time the storm had grumbled itself away into the distance he
knew he was well out of sight of the camp, and he dared to sit down
to wait for dawn. Without the aid of the lightning it was folly to