It was dark and lonely in that difficult passage.  The brook divided
into many channels, turning this way and that way, as if it were
lost in the woods.  There were huge clumps of OSMUNDA REGALIS
spreading their fronds in tropical profusion.  Mouldering logs were
covered with moss.  The water gurgled slowly into deep corners under
the banks.  Catbirds and blue jays fluttered screaming from the
thickets.  Cotton-tailed rabbits darted away, showing the white flag
of fear.  Once I thought I saw the fuscous gleam of a red fox
stealing silently through the brush.  It would have been no surprise
to hear the bark of a raccoon, or see the eyes of a wildcat gleaming
through the leaves.

For more than an hour I was pushing my way through this miniature
wilderness of half a mile; and then I emerged suddenly, to find
myself face to face with--a railroad embankment and the afternoon
express, with its parlour-cars, thundering down to Southampton!

It was a strange and startling contrast.  The explorer's joy, the
sense of adventure, the feeling of wildness and freedom, withered
and crumpled somewhat preposterously at the sight of the parlour-
cars.  My scratched hands and wet boots and torn coat seemed unkempt
and disreputable.  Perhaps some of the well-dressed people looking
out at the windows of the train were the friends with whom we were
to dine on Saturday.  BATECHE!  What would they say to such a
costume as mine?  What did I care what they said!

But, all the same, it was a shock, a disenchantment, to find that
civilization, with all its absurdities and conventionalities, was so
threateningly close to my new-found wilderness.  My first enthusiasm
was not a little chilled as I walked back, along an open woodland
path, to the bridge where Graygown was placidly reading.  Reading, I
say, though her book was closed, and her brown eyes were wandering
over the green leaves of the thicket, and the white clouds drifting,
drifting lazily across the blue deep of the sky.