When he looked loweringly up, quivering at each sound, his eyes had the expression of those of a criminal who thinks his guilt little and his punishment great, and knows that he can find no words.
He went from the fields into a thick woods, as if resolved to bury himself.

He wished to get out of hearing of the crackling shots which were to him like voices.
The ground was cluttered with vines and bushes, and the trees grew close and spread out like bouquets.

He was obliged to force his way with much noise.

The creepers, catching against his legs, cried out harshly as their sprays were torn from the barks of trees.

The swishing saplings tried to make known his presence to the world.