It was late in the afternoon before Syd awoke, to look up anxiously about before the full force of his position dawned upon him; and feeling faint and more low-spirited than had ever been his lot before, he sat there thinking about what he had to go through.
As near as he could judge they were about five miles from the Heronry, and two hours before it grew dark would be ample time for their journey.
“I may as well let him sleep,” said Syd. “He’ll only want to go away, and we can’t do that.”
Then, in spite of his efforts to the contrary, his mind began to dwell upon home and the various meals. Just about dusk the dinner would be ready, and his father and uncle sitting down, while he—
“Oh, I do feel so hungry!” he muttered. “I’d give anything for some bread and cheese.”
He went to the side of the little stream, lay down, and placing his lips to the clear cool water, drank heartily a draught that was refreshing, but did not allay his hunger; and after sitting down and thinking for a time, he put his hands in his pockets and felt his money. But it was of no use out there in the woods.
He sat thinking again, wishing now that they had gone on in spite of their condition, for then the trouble would have been over, and he would have had food, if it had only been bread and water.
“Oh dear! I can’t bear this any longer!” he said, suddenly jumping up. “We must get something to eat if it’s only nuts. Here, Pan, Pan!”
He touched the boy with his foot, but it had no effect; and bending down, he took one arm and shook it.
The effect was magical. Pan sat up, fending his face with his arm, and apostrophising some imaginary personage, as he fenced and complained.