In Cyril's case, the thing was wholly impossible.
Blindly, he had been traveling in an erratic half-circle.

Another minute of walking would have brought him to the highroad, not far from the Place's gateway.

And, as he changed his course, to seek the road, he moved at an obtuse angle to his former line of march.
Thus, another period of exhausting progress brought him up with a bump against a solid barrier.

His chilled face came into rough contact with the top rail of a line fence.
So relieved was the startled child by this encounter that he forgot to whine at the abrasion wrought upon his cheek by the rail.

He had begun to feel the first gnawings of panic.