"Woji!" Mark moaned, louder and louder. "Woji! Woji!" He doubted anyone was still asleep. "Woji says go back! Woji says go back!" He kept his voice hollow, muffled by his hand over his mouth. He repeated the words many times, and ended each message with a thin, rising moan. After a time he added one more word. "Danger. Danger. Danger."

He stopped abruptly in the middle of the fourth "Danger." Even he was aware of the listening forest now. The Gary brothers took torches into the forest around the camp, looking for something, anything. They stayed close to one another as they made the search. Most of the boys were sitting up, as close to the fires as they could get. It was a long time before they all lay down to try to sleep again. Mark dozed in the tree, and when he jerked awake, he repeated the warning, again stopping in the middle of a word, though he wasn't certain why that was so much worse than just stopping. Again the futile search was made, the fires were replenished, the boys sat upright in fear. Toward dawn when the forest was its blackest Mark began to laugh a shrill, inhuman laugh that seemed to echo from everywhere at once.

The next day was cold and drizzly with thick fog that lifted only slightly as the day wore on. Mark circled the straggling group, now whispering from behind them, now from the left, the right, from in front of them, sometimes from over their heads. By midafternoon they were barely moving and the boys were talking openly of disobeying Gary and returning to Washington. Mark noted with satisfaction that two of the Gary brothers were siding with the rebellious boys now.

"Ow! Woji!" he wailed, and suddenly two groups of the boys turned and started to run. "Woji! Danger!"

Others turned now and joined the flight, and Gary shouted at them vainly, and then he and his brothers were hurrying back the way they had come.

Laughing to himself, Mark trotted away. He headed west, toward the valley.

Bruce stood over the bed where the boy lay sleeping. "Is he going to be all right?"

Bob nodded. "He's been half awake several times, babbling about snow and ice most of the time. He recognized me when I examined him this morning."

Bruce nodded. Mark had been sleeping for almost thirty hours. Physically he was out of danger, and probably hadn't been in real danger at all. Nothing rest and food couldn't cure anyway, but his babblings about the white wall had sounded insane. Barry had ordered everyone to leave the boy alone until he awakened naturally. Barry had been with him most of the time, and would return within the hour. There was nothing anyone could do until Mark woke up.