Instantly he sprang back. The light was reflected by a pair of large and burning eyes.
A confused impression of brown hair, of antlers like spiked slabs of wood, and those burning eyes held him rooted to the spot until the girl’s hand at his elbow guided him off the trail and into the broad-spreading branches of a fir tree. There, after a false step, he tumbled into the fragrant boughs.
Without willing it, he drew the girl after him. After that, for a full moment he remained half reclining, feeling the wild beating of the girl’s heart and listening for he scarcely knew what.
When he heard the sound he recognized it; a slow, soft-padded plump-plump, and he was relieved.
“The thing we have met on the trail,” he told himself, “was not a horned demon, but a giant moose.” That he had been utterly at a loss, and that the girl had directed their course in a safe and sensible manner, he also recognized.
After listening to the padded footsteps until they faded out into the silence of the night, he assisted the girl to her feet and whispered:
“You are not a real person. You come from a book. Your name is Alice, and we are having adventures in Wonderland.”
“I am real enough.” She laughed a low laugh. “My name is not Alice, but Berley Todd. I am five feet tall and I weigh ninety pounds. My favorite dish is blueberries with ice cream on top.” She laughed again.
“And that moose, I suppose, was quite an old friend.”
“I suppose not. But a moose will not harm you if you give him the right of way, which I suppose is fair enough since this is his forest.