Then slowly the man opened his eyes with a dazed expression, at first a blur of consciousness.  Then gradually the recognition of himself, of his surroundings, of his life, came into them, and that self-knowledge was unmistakable.  There was no doubt about the man with his twisted limbs and his twisted soul.  He lay quite still a while longer, staring.  Charlotte, with her eyes upon him, and the squirrel with his eyes upon him, never stirred.  Charlotte heard her heart beat, and wished for some way to stifle it, but that she could not do.  It seemed to her that the beating of her heart was like a drum, as if it could be heard through all the grove.  She realized that she could not hear the sound of passing wheels on the road, because of this terrible beating of her heart.  It seemed inevitable that the man would hear it.  She felt then that she should take her one little chance, that she should scream on the possibility of some one passing on the road, and run, but she realized the futility of it.  Before she could move a step the man would be upon her.  She felt, moreover, paralyzed.  She remained as perfectly motionless as the tree against which she leaned, with her eyes full of utmost terror and horror upon the waking man.  He still looked straight ahead, and his eyes were still retrospective, fixed inward rather than outward.  He still saw only himself and his own concerns.

Then he yawned audibly and spoke.  “Damn it all!” he said, in a curious voice, of rather passive rage.  It was the voice of one at variance with all creation, his hand against every man and every man against him, and yet the zest of rebellion was not in it.  In fact, the man had been so long at odds with life that a certain indifference was upon him.  He had become sullen.  As he lay there he thrust a hand in his pocket, and again he spoke his oath against all outside, against all creation.  He had thought absently that he might find a dime for a drink.  Now that he had waked, he was thirsty, but there was none.  Then he yawned, stretched out his stiff, twisted limbs with a sort of muffled groan, rested his weight upon one elbow, and shambled up as awkwardly as a camel.  The girl sat still in the clutch of her awful fear.  She no longer heard her heart beat.  She was casting about in her mind for a weapon.  A great impulse of fight was stirring in her.  She felt suddenly that her little fingers were like steel.  She felt that she should kill that man if he touched her.  The fear never let go its clutch on her heart, but a fierceness as of any wild thing at bay was over her.  She realized that in another minute, when he should see her, she would gather herself up, and spring, spring as she had read of a tarantula springing; that she would be first before the man, that she would kill him.  Something which was almost insanity was firing her brain.