Little children do not like to be quite alone. Edwy listened to hear if there were any voices outside, but he heard nothing but the rush of a waterfall close by, and the distant cry of sheep and lambs. The next thing the little one did was to get up and go out at the door of the hut. The hut was built of rude rafters in the front of a cave or hole in the rock. It was low down in the glen, at the edge of the brook, a little below the waterfall. When the child came out he looked anxiously for somebody, and was more and more frightened when he could find no one at all. The old woman must have been close at hand although out of sight, but she was deaf, and did not hear the noise made by the child when he came out of the hut. Edwy did not remember how long he stood by the brook, but this is certain, that the longer he felt himself to be alone the more frightened he became. Then he began to fancy terrible things. At the top of the rock from which the waters fell there was a huge old yew-tree, or rather bush, which hung forward over the fall. It looked very black in comparison with the tender green of the other trees, and the white, glittering spray of the water. Edwy looked at it and fancied that it moved. His eye was deceived by the dancing motion of the water. While he looked and looked, some great black bird came out from the midst of it, uttering a harsh, croaking sound. The little boy could bear no more. He turned away from the terrible bush and the terrible bird, and ran down the valley, leaving hut and all behind. And, as he ran, he cried, as he always did when hurt or frightened, "Papa, mamma! oh, come! oh, come to Edwy!" He ran and ran while his little bare feet were bruised with pebbles, and his legs torn with briers. Very soon he came to where the valley became narrower and the rocks and banks higher on either side. The brook ran along between, and a path went in a line with the brook; but this path was only used by the gypsies and a few poor cottagers, and was but a lonely road. As Edwy ran he still cried, "Mamma, mamma, papa, papa! oh, come! oh, come to Edwy!" And he kept up this cry from time to time, till his young voice began to be returned in a sort of hollow murmur. When first he noticed this, he was even more frightened than before. He stood and looked round. Then he turned with his back toward the hut and ran and ran again until he got deeper in among the rocks. Then he stopped again, for the high black banks frightened him still more, and setting up his young voice he called again as he had done before. He had scarcely finished his cry, when a voice seemed to answer him. It said, "Come, come to Edwy!" It said it once, it said it twice, it said it a third time. But it seemed each time more distant. The child looked up and down, and all around, and in his terror he cried more loudly, "Oh, papa, mamma! come, come to poor Edwy!"