Moreover, it was not only the senses of sight

and hearing that reported uncommon things to his brain, for even while

the man cried and ran, he had become aware that a strange perfume,

faint yet pungent, pervaded the interior of the tent. And it was at

this point, it seems, brought to himself by the consciousness that his

nostrils were taking this distressing odour down into his throat, that

he found his courage, sprang quickly to his feet — and went out.

The grey light of dawn that dropped, cold and glimmering, between

the trees revealed the scene tolerably well. There stood the tent

behind him, soaked with dew; the dark ashes of the fire, still warm;

the lake, white beneath a coating of mist, the islands rising darkly

out of it like objects packed in wool; and patches of snow beyond among

the clearer spaces of the Bush — everything cold, still, waiting for

the sun. But nowhere a sign of the vanished guide — still, doubtless,

flying at frantic speed through the frozen woods. There was not even

the sound of disappearing footsteps, nor the echoes of the dying voice.

He had gone — utterly.

There was nothing; nothing but the sense of his recent presence, so

strongly left behind about the camp; and — this penetrating,

all-pervading odour.

And even this was now rapidly disappearing in its turn. In spite of

his exceeding mental perturbation, Simpson struggled hard to detect its

nature, and define it, but the ascertaining of an elusive scent, not

recognized subconsciously and at once, is a very subtle operation of

the mind. And he failed. It was gone before he could properly seize or

name it. Approximate description, even, seems to have been difficult,

for it was unlike any smell he knew. Acrid rather, not unlike the odour

of a lion, he thinks, yet softer and not wholly unpleasing, with

something almost sweet in it that reminded him of the scent of decaying

garden leaves, earth, and the myriad, nameless perfumes that make up

the odour of a big forest. Yet the “odour of lions” is the phrase with

which he usually sums it all up.

Then — it was wholly gone, and he found himself standing by the

ashes of the fire in a state of amazement and stupid terror that left

him the helpless prey of anything that chose to happen. Had a musk-rat

poked its pointed muzzle over a rock, or a squirrel scuttled in that

instant down the bark of a tree, he would most likely have collapsed

without more ado and fainted. For he felt about the whole affair the

touch somewhere of a great Outer Horror … and his scattered powers

had not as yet had time to collect themselves into a definite attitude

of fighting self-control.

Nothing did happen, however. A great kiss of wind ran softly

through the awakening forest, and a few maple leaves here and there

rustled tremblingly to earth. The sky seemed to grow suddenly much

lighter. Simpson felt the cool air upon his cheek and uncovered head;

realized that he was shivering with the cold; and making a great

effort, realized next that he was alone in the Bush — and that he was

called upon to take immediate steps to find and succour his vanished

companion.

Make an effort, accordingly, he did, though an ill-calculated and

futile one. With that wilderness of trees about him, the sheet of water

cutting him off behind, and the horror of that wild cry in his blood,

he did what any other inexperienced man would have done in similar

bewilderment: he ran about, without any sense of direction, like a

frantic child, and called loudly without ceasing the name of the guide

—

“Defago! Defago! Defago!” he yelled, and the trees gave him back

the name as often as he shouted, only a little softened — “Defago!

Defago! Defago!”

He followed the trail that lay for a short distance across the

patches of snow, and then lost it again where the trees grew too

thickly for snow to lie. He shouted till he was hoarse, and till the

sound of his own voice in all that unanswering and listening world

began to frighten him. His confusion increased in direct ratio to the

violence of his efforts. His distress became formidably acute, till at

length his exertions defeated their own object, and from sheer

exhaustion he headed back to the camp again. It remains a wonder that

he ever found his way. It was with great difficulty, and only after

numberless false clues, that he at last saw the white tent between the

trees, and so reached safety.

Exhaustion then applied its own remedy, and he grew calmer.