The village ahead was dark and silent, the side of the house fronting the road was black and desolate.

It was a lonely spot, a lonely hour.

Yet as I stood there shivering with nameless apprehensions, I felt absolutely certain that I was confronted by some hidden danger.
In a moment or two, I am thankful to say, my courage returned.

I struck a match and lit a cigar, one of a handful which Ray had forced upon me.
Then I crossed stealthily to the other side of the road, and felt for the hedge.

I pricked my hands badly, but after feeling about for some moments I was able to cut for myself a reasonably thick stick.