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Yes
,
something
’
s
going
to
happen
,
he
thought
,
I
know
it
!
"
Here
’
s
maidenhair
fern
,
"
Dad
walked
,
the
tin
pail
belling
in
his
fist
.
"
Feel
this
?
"
He
scuffed
the
earth
.
"
A
million
years
of
good
rich
leafmold
laid
down
.
Think
of
the
autumns
that
got
by
to
make
this
.
"
"
Boy
,
I
walk
like
an
Indian
,
"
said
Tom
.
"
Not
a
sound
.
"
Douglas
felt
but
did
not
feel
the
deep
loam
,
listening
,
watchful
.
We
’
re
surrounded
!
he
thought
.
It
’
ll
happen
!
What
?
He
stopped
.
Come
out
,
wherever
you
are
,
whatever
you
are
!
he
cried
silently
.
Tom
and
Dad
strolled
on
the
hushed
earth
ahead
.
"
Finest
lace
there
is
,
"
said
Dad
quietly
.
And
he
was
gesturing
up
through
the
trees
above
to
show
them
how
it
was
woven
across
the
sky
or
how
the
sky
was
woven
into
the
trees
,
he
wasn
’
t
sure
which
.
But
there
it
was
,
he
smiled
,
and
the
weaving
went
on
,
green
and
blue
,
if
you
watched
and
saw
the
forest
shift
its
humming
loom
.
Dad
stood
comfortably
saying
this
and
that
,
the
words
easy
in
his
mouth
.
He
made
it
easier
by
laughing
at
his
own
declarations
just
so
often
.
He
liked
to
listen
to
the
silence
,
he
said
,
if
silence
could
be
listened
to
,
for
,
he
went
on
,
in
that
silence
you
could
hear
wildflower
pollen
sifting
down
the
bee
-
fried
air
,
by
God
,
the
bee
-
fried
air
!
Listen
!
the
waterfall
of
birdsong
beyond
those
trees
!
Now
,
thought
Douglas
,
here
it
comes
!
Running
!
I
don
’
t
see
it
!
Running
!
Almost
on
me
!
"
Fox
grapes
!
"
said
Father
.
"
We
’
re
in
luck
,
look
here
!
"
