rlook their shabby poverty for a while,
till they could riot in rich masquerade as before, and trick and
entice him with the old deceptions. It was pitiful in a way, and yet
cheering--even exhilarating. He was glad that he liked the country
undecorated, hard, and stripped of its finery. He had got down to the
bare bones of it, and they were fine and strong and simple. He did not
want the warm clover and the play of seeding grasses; the screens of
quickset, the billowy drapery of beech and elm seemed best away; and
with great cheerfulness of spirit he pushed on towards the Wild Wood,
which lay before him low and threatening, like a black reef in some
still southern sea.

There was nothing to alarm him at first entry. Twigs crackled under
his feet, logs tripped him, funguses on stumps resembled caricatures,
and startled him for the moment by their likeness to something
familiar and far away; but that was all fun, and exciting. It led him
on, and he penetrated to where the light was less, and trees crouched
nearer and nearer, and holes made ugly mouths at him on either side.

Everything was very still now. The dusk advanced on him steadily,
rapidly, gathering in behind and before; and the light seemed to be
draining away like flood-water.

Then the faces began.

It was over his shoulder, and indistinctly, that he first thought he
saw a face, a little, evil, wedge-shaped face, looking out at him from
a hole. When he turned and confronted it, the thing had vanished.

He quickened his pace, telling himself cheerfully not to begin
imagining things or there would be simply no end to it. He passed
another hole, and another, and another; and then--yes!--no!--yes!
certainly a little, narrow face, with hard eyes, had flashed up for an
instant from a hole, and was gone. He hesitated--braced himself up for
an effort and strode on. Then suddenly, and as if it had been so all
the time, every hole, far and near, and there were hundreds of them,
seemed to possess its face, coming and going rapidly, all fixing on
him glances of malice and hatred: all hard-eyed and evil and sharp.

If he could only get away from the holes in the banks, he thought,
there would be no more faces. He swung off the path and plunged into
the untrodden places of the wood.

Then the whistling began.

Very faint and shrill it was, and far behind him, when first he heard
it; but somehow it made him hurry forward. Then, still very faint and
shrill, it sound