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.
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