before. Whoever had mowed the hay had evidently
been engaged also in a further clearing of the land beyond, and there
was a small patch where tomatoes and pea vines lay neglected in the sun;
the peas had been gathered weeks before, but the tomatoes, later in
ripening, hung there turning rich and red. Ann went on across the
cleared space. Following the track, she came to a thick bit of bush
beyond, where a long cutting had been made, just wide enough for a cart
to pass through.

There was no other way out; Ann must walk through this long green
passage. No knight in a fairy tale ever entered path that looked more
remote from the world's thoroughfares. When she had walked a mile she
came to an opening where the ground dipped all round to a bottom which
had evidently at some time held water, for the flame-weed that grew
thick upon it stood even, the tops of its magenta flowers as level as a
lake--it was, in fact, a lake of faded crimson lying between shores of
luxuriant green. The cart-ruts went right down into the flame-flowers,
and she thought she could descry where they rose from them on the other
side. Evidently the blossoming had taken place since the last cart had
passed over, and no doubt many miles intervened between this and the
next dwelling-house. Nothing but the thought of necessities that might
arise for help on Bart's account made her make the toilsome passage,
knee-deep among the flowers, to see whether, beyond that, the road was
passable; but she only found that it was not fit for walkers except at a
time of greater drought than the present. The swamp crept round in a
ring, so that she discovered herself to be upon what was actually an
island. Ann turned back, realising that she was a prisoner.

On her way home again she gathered blood-red tomatoes; and finding a
wild apple tree, she added its green fruit to what she already held
gathered in the skirt of her gown; starvation at least was not a near
enemy.

She had made her investigation calmly, and with a light heart; she felt
sure that Bart had grown better and stronger during the day, and that
was all that she cared about. She never paused to ask herself why his
recovery was not merely a humane interest but such a satisfying joy.
The knowledge of her present remoteness from all distresses of her life
as a daughter and sister came to her with a wonderful sense of rest, and
opened her mind to the sweet influences of the summer night and its
stars as that