e grey carpet of
fir-needles, and the same grey rough-topped, mushroom-shaped fungi
growing up and pushing the fir-needles aside to make room for them.
Then too the great natural temple, with its dark column-supported roof,
has a way of looking different at morning, noon, and eve; and as
different again according to the state of the weather, so that though
you may be pretty familiar with the place, it is a difficult task to
find your way for the second time.

It was so now with Tom Blount. There was a spot in the wood for which
he had aimed, and it seemed to be the easiest thing possible to go
straight there; but the trees prevented any such straight course, and
after a little dodging in and out the mind refuses to bear all the
changes of course and repeat them to the traveller, who gradually grows
more and more confused, and if he does not hit upon the spot he seeks by
accident, in all probability he has to give it up for what people call a
bad job.

"Here it is at last," said Tom to himself, after following, as he
thought, exactly the course he had taken when he chased Pete Warboys for
throwing stones at the bath-chair, and coming upon a rugged portion of
the fir-wood.

"Bother! I made so sure it was," he muttered, for the opening he sought
beside a great fir-tree was not there, and rubbing one of his ears with
vexation, he stood looking round again, and down long vistas between the
straight tree-trunks.

But no, there was not a sign of the spot he wanted, and the farther he
went the more confused he grew. It was still gloriously bright
overhead, but the dark bars of shadow were nearly all gone, and it
looked as if darkness were slowly rising like a transparent mist out of
the earth; one minute it was up to his knees, and then creeping up and
up till the tree-trunks looked as if they were plunged in a kind of
flood, while their upper portions were glowing as if on fire.

"I'll have one more try," thought Tom, "and then give it up till
to-morrow morning. That's the best time, when you've got the whole day
before you, and not the night. Let's see, what did uncle say about my
getting to know a lot about optics and astronomy? Of course--I
remember: it was nice to be a boy, for he was in the morning of life,
and all the long bright day of manhood before him in which to work; and
the pleasant evening in which to think of that work well done, before
the soft gentle night fell, bringing with it the great peaceful