They forged ahead over rocks and through bushes until they came to the edge of the stream. There they stopped, scanning the banks for as far as they could see, but there was no one.
"You go in that direction," Toffee said quickly, "And I'll go upstream. If I find them I'll whistle."
Marc nodded agreement and struck out, shoving his way through a thick tangle of foliage. He moved along carefully toward a clearing that he remembered to be ahead. Finally, starting through the last leafy barrier, he caught his coat on a branch. He turned back to loosen it, at the same time backing out into the opening, pulling against the hold of the branch. The gun in his hand, however, made the maneuver awkward. As the coat finally came loose, he fell backwards, landing on the grass.
He was just starting to boost himself up, when he heard the scream behind him. It was a shrill scream and filled with horror. There was an ensuing moment of silence, then the sound of swiftly padding feet, scurrying in all directions. Marc turned and looked.
At first glance he was deeply startled, having forgotten momentarily the condition of his eyes. A large collection of humanity, glistening pinkly in the afternoon sunlight, were disappearing frenziedly into the surrounding greenery. As their unclad backsides vanished behind cover, Marc noticed that they had left behind them a number of picnic baskets, thermos jugs and blankets.
He sat for a moment, getting back his breath, then, on brief reflection, it came to him that these picnickers, whoever they were, had behaved with singular strangeness. Why should they run so desperately for cover just because he had fallen into the clearing?
He had only begun to ponder this curious equation when he realized that perhaps his falling there really had nothing to do with it at all. Perhaps something else, something much more formidable than a mere intruder, had panicked them. Visions of man-consuming cobras and slavering tigers flashed through his mind. Whatever it was that had so upset these people, he wasn't going to hang around to welcome it single-handedly. Leaping to his feet, he also ran for cover.
He crashed through the scratchy frontier of brush and came to an abrupt stop. Crouching before him, her back fortunately turned, was a plumpish, dark-haired woman, hiding her face in her hands. Marc crouched quickly down beside her and for a moment there was a tense silence. It was as though they waited for a bomb to drop. As the moments passed, however, and nothing occurred, Marc cleared his throat. The woman flinched nervously.
"Shh!" she hissed. "Be quiet!"