The Imp Disposes
instinctively stepped out of the beaten track to follow it. It went very slowly, so that one's hand was almost close to it before it gave a little bound and escaped. It was evidently lame, and the hope of capturing it and teaching it tricks in a cage lured the Imp from the path and duty alike, and it was only after an hour of wandering that he woke up to the fact that he was a lost and culpable boy. He called to mind the tales of people who had been lost in these woods and how they had gone round and round helplessly, always coming out just where they started. He remembered the bear that once lived there. True, it was many, many years ago—perhaps a hundred—but who knew how long a bear might live? A friend of his had assured him that a very fierce animal would become as gentle as a kitten if you stared straight into its eyes and showed no fear; but the Imp greatly doubted his ability to do this. It was appallingly quiet in these woods: hardly a leaf stirred. It occurred to the Imp that in just about three seconds he should feel quite certain he was lost and behave accordingly, when he heard a faint sound of tramping through the undergrowth.
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