White fog.
I looked in another direction.
White fog.
Then I seemed to lose my head altogether, and hurried here and there with my hands extended, completely astray.
It only took moments, swift moments, for all this to take place, and then I heard voices that I knew, but sounding muffled and as if a long way off.
“Cob! Where are you, Cob?”
“Here,” I shouted. “I’ll try and come.”
“No, no!”—it was Uncle Jack who spoke—“don’t stir for your life.”
“But,” I shouted, with my voice sounding as if I was covered with a blanket, “I want to come to you.”
“Stop where you are,” he cried. “I command you.”