collecting sticks, I made my way to the far point of the islandwhere the moonlight on plain and river could be seen to better advantage.The desire to be alone had come suddenly upon me; my former dread returnedin force; there was a vague feeling in me I wished to face and probe to thebottom.
When I reached the point of sand jutting out among the waves, the spell ofthe place descended upon me with a positive shock. No mere "scenery" couldhave produced such an effect. There was something more here, something toalarm.
I gazed across the waste of wild waters; I watched the whispering willows;I heard the ceaseless beating of the tireless wind; and, one and all, eachin its own way, stirred in me this sensation of a strange distress. But thewillows especially; for ever they went on chattering and talking amongthemselves, laughing a little, shrilly crying out, sometimes sighing--butwhat it was they made so much to-do about belonged to the secret life ofthe great plain they inhabited. And it was utterly alien to the world Iknew, or to that of the wild yet kindly elements. They made me think of ahost of beings from another plane of life, another evolution altogether,perhaps, all discussing a mystery known only to themselves. I watched themmoving busily together, oddly shaking their big bushy heads, twirling theirmyriad leaves even when there was no wind. They moved of their own will asthough alive, and they touched, by some incalculable method, my own keensense of the horrible.
There they stood in the moonlight, like a vast army surrounding our camp,shaking their innumerable silver spears defiantly, formed all ready for anattack.
The psychology of places, for some imaginations at least, is very vivid;for the wanderer, especially, camps have their "note" either of welcome orrejection. At first it may not always be apparent, because the busypreparations of tent and cooking prevent, but with the first pause--aftersupper usually--it comes and announces itself. And the note of thiswillow-camp now became unmistakably plain to me; we were interlopers,trespassers; we were not welcomed. The sense of unfamiliarity grew upon meas I stood there watching. We touched the frontier of a region where ourpresence was resented. For a night's lodging we might perhaps be tolerated;but for a prolonged and inquisitive stay--No! by all the gods of the treesand wilderness, no! We were the first human influences upon this island,and we were not wanted. The willows were against us.
Strange thoughts like these, bizarre fancies, borne I know not whence,found lodgment in my mind as I stood listening. What, I thought, if, afterall, these crouching willows proved to be alive; if suddenly they shouldrise up, like a swarm of living creatures, marshaled by the gods whoseterritory we had invaded, sweep towards us off the vast swamps, boomingoverhead in the night--and then settle down! As I looked it was so easy toimagine they actually moved, crept nearer, retreated a little, huddledtogether in masses, hostile, waiting for the great wind that should finallystart them a-running. I could have sworn their aspect changed a little, andtheir ranks deepened and pressed more closely together.
The melancholy shrill cry of a night-bird sounded overhead, and suddenly Inearly lost my balance as the piece of bank I stood upon fell with a greatsplash into the river, undermined by the flood. I stepped back just intime, and went on hunting for firewood again, half laughing at the oddfancies that crowded so thickly into my mind and cast their spell upon me.I recalled the Swede's remark about moving on next day, and I was justthinking that I fully agreed with him, when I turned with a start and sawthe subject of my thoughts standing immediately in front of me. He wasquite close. The roar of the elements had covered his approach.