"
"It's the wood does that," replied Uncle Felix. "Outside it's only
twilight. I think we'd better be getting on."
"We're getting there," observed the boy.
"But we shan't be able to see the sign if this darkness gets worse,"
said the other apprehensively.
The answer gave him quite a turn. "It's been--ages and ages ago!"
The idea of rescue meanwhile had merged insensibly into escape, but
neither remarked upon the change. It was only that the original
emotion had spread a bit. Tim and Uncle Felix stood close together in
this solemn clearing, waiting, peering about them, listening intently.
But Tim had seen the sign; he knew what he was doing all the time; he
was in more intimate relations with the Being of the Wood than his
great floundering Uncle possibly could be.
"Which way, do _you_ think?" asked the latter anxiously.
There seemed no possible exit from the clearing, no break anywhere in
the leafy walls; even the entrance was covered up and hidden. The Wood
blocked further advance deliberately.
"We're lost," said Tim bluntly, turning round and round. His eyes
opened to their widest. "You've simply taken a wrong turning
somewhere.
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