didn't understand yourself. All he knew was that they made him feel
'dazzled inside,' and he wanted to watch them more.

It was beautiful out in the open with the sunshine pouring down and a
big lazy white cloud tangled in tree-tops. So he flung himself on the
moss, hands under his head, and lay there, Prince beside him, looking
up, up into the far blue, listening to the swish and rustle of the wind
talking secrets to the leaves, and all the tiny mysterious noises that
make up the silence of a wood in summer.

And again he forgot about Tara and the Game and the silver watch that
made him reliable. He simply lay there in a trance-like stillness, that
was not of the West, absorbing it all, with his eyes and his dazzled
brain and with every sentient nerve in his body. And again--as when his
mother smiled her praise--the Spring sunshine itself seemed to flow
through his veins....

* * * * *

Suddenly he came alive and sat upright. Something was happening. The
Golden Tusks had disappeared, and the domes of cool green light and the
far blue sky and the lazy white cloud. Under the beeches it was almost
twilight--a creepy twilight, as if a giant had blown out the sun. Was it
really evening? Had he been asleep? Only his watch could answer that,
and never had he loved it more dearly. No--it was daytime. Twenty past
twelve--and he would be late----

A long rumbling growl, that seemed to shudder through the wood, so
startled him that it set little hammers beating all over his body. Then
the wind grew angrier--not whispering secrets now, but tearing at the