"Is it much farther where we get the wood?" asked Pierotte, for the children had been walking a considerable time.
"Father said we were to go to the hazel copse," answered Pierot. "We must be almost there."
So for half an hour longer they went on and on, but still no sign of fallen trees or wood-choppers appeared, and Pierot was forced to confess that he must have mistaken the road.
"It is queer, too," he said. "There was that big red toadstool where the paths joined. I noticed it the other day when I came with the father. What's the matter?" for Pierotte had given a sudden jump.
"Some one laughed," said Pierotte, in an awe-struck tone.
"It was a cricket or tree-toad. Who is here to laugh?"
Pierotte tried hard to believe him, but she did not feel comfortable, and held Pierot's sleeve tight as they went. He felt the trembling of the little hand.
"Pierotte, thou art a goose!" he said; but all the same he put his arm round her shoulders, which comforted her so that she walked less timorously.
One path after another they tried, but none of them led to the cleared spot where the fallen trees lay. The sun rose high, and the day grew warmer, but in the forest a soft breeze blew, and kept them cool. Hour after hour passed; the children had walked till they were tired. They rested awhile, ate half their dinner of curds and black bread, then they went on again, turned, twisted, tried paths to right and paths to left, but still the dense woods closed them in, and they had no idea where they were or how they should go.
Suddenly the track they were following led to a little clearing, in which stood a tiny hut, with a fenced garden full of cherry-trees and roses. It was such a surprise to find this fertile and blooming spot in the heart of the wild wood, that the children stood still with their mouths open, to stare at it.