Soft little hands, too, were creeping over my coat and back, touching even my neck.
Then the match scratched and fizzed.
I held it flaring, and saw the white backs of the Morlocks in flight amid the trees.
I hastily took a lump of camphor from my pocket, and prepared to light is as soon as the match should wane.
Then I looked at Weena.
She was lying clutching my feet and quite motionless, with her face to the ground.
With a sudden fright I stooped to her.
She seemed scarcely to breathe.
I lit the block of camphor and flung it to the ground, and as it split and flared up and drove back the Morlocks and the shadows, I knelt down and lifted her.
The wood behind seemed full of the stir and murmur of a great company!
“She seemed to have fainted.
I put her carefully upon my shoulder and rose to push on, and then there came a horrible realization.
In manoeuvring with my matches and Weena, I had turned myself about several times, and now I had not the faintest idea in what direction lay my path.
For all I knew, I might be facing back towards the Palace of Green Porcelain.
I found myself in a cold sweat.
I had to think rapidly what to do.
I determined to build a fire and encamp where we were.
I put Weena, still motionless, down upon a turfy bole, and very hastily, as my first lump of camphor waned, I began collecting sticks and leaves.
Here and there out of the darkness round me the Morlocks” eyes shone like carbuncles.
“The camphor flickered and went out.
I lit a match, and as I did so, two white forms that had been approaching Weena dashed hastily away.
One was so blinded by the light that he came straight for me, and I felt his bones grind under the blow of my fist.
He gave a whoop of dismay, staggered a little way, and fell down.
I lit another piece of camphor, and went on gathering my bonfire.
Presently I noticed how dry was some of the foliage above me, for since my arrival on the Time Machine, a matter of a week, no rain had fallen.
So, instead of casting about among the trees for fallen twigs, I began leaping up and dragging down branches.
Very soon I had a choking smoky fire of green wood and dry sticks, and could economize my camphor.
Then I turned to where Weena lay beside my iron mace.
I tried what I could to revive her, but she lay like one dead.
I could not even satisfy myself whether or not she breathed.
“Now, the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and it must have made me heavy of a sudden. Moreover, the vapour of camphor was in the air.
My fire would not need replenishing for an hour or so.
I felt very weary after my exertion, and sat down.
The wood, too, was full of a slumbrous murmur that I did not understand.
I seemed just to nod and open my eyes.
But all was dark, and the Morlocks had their hands upon me.
Flinging off their clinging fingers I hastily felt in my pocket for the match-box, and—it had gone!
Then they gripped and closed with me again.
In a moment I knew what had happened.
I had slept, and my fire had gone out, and the bitterness of death came over my soul.
The forest seemed full of the smell of burning wood.
I was caught by the neck, by the hair, by the arms, and pulled down.
It was indescribably horrible in the darkness to feel all these soft creatures heaped upon me.
I felt as if I was in a monstrous spider's web.
I was overpowered, and went down.
I felt little teeth nipping at my neck.
I rolled over, and as I did so my hand came against my iron lever.
It gave me strength.
I struggled up, shaking the human rats from me, and, holding the bar short, I thrust where I judged their faces might be.
I could feel the succulent giving of flesh and bone under my blows, and for a moment I was free.