He had to walk now, and often to give the cart a push, so that the way was laborious; but, curiously enough, it was not the labour he objected to, but the sound of his own voice.

All the way the silent thicket was listening to his "Gee-e, gee; haw then";--"yo-hoi-eest"; yet, as he and his oxen progressed further into the quiet afternoon, he gradually grew more and more timid at the shouts he must raise.

It seemed to him that the dead man was listening, or that unknown shapes or essences might be disturbed by his voice and rush out from the thicket upon him.

Such fears he had--wordless fears, such as men never repeat and soon forget.

Rough, dull, hardy woodman as he was, he felt now as a child feels in the dark, afraid of he knew not what.
The way was very weary.