Вітер у вербах
The Wild Wood
Thensuddenly,andasifithadbeensoallthetime,everyhole,farandnear,andtherewerehundredsofthem,seemedtopossessitsface,comingandgoingrapidly,allfixingonhimglancesofmaliceandhatred:allhard-eyedandevilandsharp.
Ifhecouldonlygetawayfromtheholesinthebanks,hethought,therewouldbenomorefaces.Heswungoffthepathandplungedintotheuntroddenplacesofthewood.
Thenthewhistlingbegan.
Veryfaintandshrillitwas,andfarbehindhim,whenfirstheheardit;butsomehowitmadehimhurryforward.Then,stillveryfaintandshrill,itsoundedfaraheadofhim,andmadehimhesitateandwanttogoback.Ashehaltedinindecisionitbrokeoutoneitherside,andseemedtobecaughtupandpassedonthroughoutthewholelengthofthewoodtoitsfarthestlimit.Theywereupandalertandready,evidently,whoevertheywere!Andhe—hewasalone,andunarmed,andfarfromanyhelp;andthenightwasclosingin.
Thenthepatteringbegan.
Hethoughtitwasonlyfallingleavesatfirst,soslightanddelicatewasthesoundofit.Thenasitgrewittookaregularrhythm,andheknewitfornothingelsebutthepat-pat-patoflittlefeetstillaverylongwayoff.Wasitinfrontorbehind?Itseemedtobefirstone,andthentheother,thenboth.Itgrewanditmultiplied,tillfromeveryquarterashelistenedanxiously,leaningthiswayandthat,itseemedtobeclosinginonhim.
