They had not wandered in a circle. They had travelled in segments of circles, and against all mathematical probability, had struck the camp.
But the camp was not tenantless. Someone was there. A huge man-like form, a monstrous gorilla, the evil spirit that haunted the forest, bent and gray and old-looking, was picking the things about, sniffing at them, turning them over.
When they saw him first, he was holding the tent-cloth between both his hands just as a draper holds a piece of cloth, then he ripped it up with a rending sound, flung the pieces away, and began turning over the litter.
He heard the steps of the human beings, and sat up, looking around him, sniffing the air. He could not see them, for he was purblind.
The human beings passed on into the terrible nowhere of the forest.
When you are lost like this, you cannot rest. You must keep moving, even though you are all but hopeless of reaching freedom.
Two days later they were still lost, and now entirely hopeless.
To torment their hearts still more, faint sun-rays came through the leaves overhead.
The sun was shining overhead; the sun they would never see again. It was the very end of all things, for they had not eaten for twelve hours now.
The sun-rays danced, for a breeze had sprung up, and they could hear it passing free and happily in the leaves overhead.