he came to the
second stile, and then he stood hesitatingly. The firs grew thick
here, and the shadows that they cast were dark and opaque, encroaching
on the pathway, making it a narrow strip of dim light that would lead
one into the mysterious and gloomy depths of the wood.

He crossed the stile, and went along the path very slowly, pausing now
and then to listen. There was not a sound; the whole wood was as
silent as the grave.

Presently the fir-trees on each side of him opened out a little, and
here and there beeches and ashes appeared; then the path passed
through a glade, the shadows receded, and he had a sensation of being
more free and able to breathe better. If he kept on by the path he
would soon come to the main ride, that long widely cut avenue which
goes close to Kibworth Rocks and gives access to the other straight
cuts leading to the Abbey park. He left the path and struck across
through the trees, making a line that would take him soon to the
wildest part of the ancient Chase, and that, if he pursued it far
enough, would eventually bring him out on the big ride near the rocks.

The dark stiff firs gave place to solemnly magnificent beeches; glade
succeeded glade; thickets of holly and hawthorn dense as a savage
jungle tried to baffle one's approach to lawnlike spaces where the
grass grew finely as in a garden, and the white stems of the high
trees looked like pillars of a splendid church; the stream ran
silently and secretly, not flashing when it swept out under the sky,
or murmuring when it slid down tiny cascades beneath the branches.

Dale was following the stream, whether it showed itself or hid itself,
and could have found his way blindfold. He knew the wood by night as
well as he knew it by day.

He stopped on the edge of the biggest of all the glades, looked about
him cautiously, advanced slowly, and stopped again to wipe the
perspiration from his forehead. He was very near to the main ride now;
straight ahead of him, say two hundred yards away, on the other side
of the invisible ride lay the invisible rocks.

One of the beech-trees had fallen, and been left as it fell two months
ago. Most of its tender young foliage had shriveled and died, but on
branches near its upturned roots a few leaves were bright and green,
still drawing life from the ruined trunk. Dale stood by the fallen
tree, looking out across the glade. It was all silent and beautiful,
with that curious effect of increasing l