sh, and absurd, but
she was frightened. The wood seemed to have so many eyes, so many arms,
and all unfriendly; it seemed waiting to give her other blows, other
falls, and to guard her within its darkness until--! She got up, moved
a few steps, and stood still, she had forgotten from where she had come
in. And afraid of moving deeper into the unfriendly wood, she turned
slowly round, trying to tell which way to go. It was all just one dark
watching thing, of limbs on the ground and in the air. 'Any way,' she
thought; 'any way of course will take me out!' And she groped forward,
keeping her hands up to guard her face. It was silly, but she could not
help the sinking, scattered feeling which comes to one bushed, or lost
in a fog. If the wood had not been so dark, so,--alive! And for a second
she had the senseless, terrifying thought of a child: 'What if I never
get out!' Then she laughed at it, and stood still again, listening.
There was no sound to guide her, no sound at all except that faint dull
rumble, which seemed to come from every side, now. And the trees watched
her. 'Ugh!' she thought; 'I hate this wood!' She saw it now, its snaky
branches, its darkness, and great forms, as an abode of giants and
witches. She groped and scrambled on again, tripped once more, and fell,
hitting her forehead against a trunk. The blow dazed and sobered her.
'It's idiotic,' she thought; 'I'm a baby! I'll Just walk very slowly
till I reach the edge. I know it isn't a large wood!' She turned
deliberately to face each direction; solemnly selected that from which
the muttering of the guns seemed to come, and started again, moving
very slowly with her hands stretched out. Something rustled in the
undergrowth, quite close; she saw a pair of green eyes shining. Her
heart jumped into her mouth. The thing sprang--there was a swish of
ferns and twigs, and silence. Noel clasped her breast. A poaching cat!
And again she moved forward. But she had lost direction. 'I'm going
round and round,' she thought. 'They always do.' And the sinking
scattered feeling of the "bushed" clutched at her again. 'Shall I call?'
she thought. 'I must be near the road. But it's so babyish.' She moved
on again. Her foot struck something soft. A voice muttered a thick oath;
a hand seized her ankle. She leaped, and dragged and wrenched it free;
and, utterly unnerved, she screamed, and ran forward blindly.

V

No one could have so convinced a feeling as Jimmy Fort t