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like a distant
cry.
    He felt a little afraid. Jack
had not answered his calls and he had to admit reluctantly that he
was now lost himself. What sort of a mess had they got themselves
into? He doubted that he could even find the high hedge again, let
alone Jack. He had no idea where he was and all around him there
was nothing but trees, fields and flowers, no landmarks, no points
of reference. At any other time he would have enjoyed the beauty of
his surroundings but now, separated from his friend, lost and not
knowing which way to go to get home, he almost hated the place.
    "Jack!" he cried out in
desperation.
    "Tom," came a reply from not
very far away.
    He broke into a run and made
toward the voice. Looking out for Jack as he went, hoping to catch
a glimpse of him amongst the foliage, Tom came upon a big elm tree
that marked the edge of a small wood and saw something that made
him come to a dead stop. Hanging from a knurled branch of the old
tree was a swing and upon it sat a boy dressed in a neat black
suit. He looked to be about four or five and possessed an impish
quality that Tom found oddly disquieting.
    "Hello Tom," said the boy.
    "Eh, hello," returned Tom
without really thinking. The little boy smiled, enigmatic but not
unfriendly. "Wait a minute!" exclaimed Tom, "how did you know my
name?"
    The boy pushed his feet against
the ground and began to swing to-and-fro. "It's common knowledge,"
he stated, sounding rather older than his appearance would
suggest.
    "Who are you?" asked Tom as he
appraised the child, confused and just a little annoyed at his
off-handed manner.
    The youngster regarded the
older boy, his head tilted slightly to one side, his striking green
eyes unnerving. "Tom, Tom," sang the boy on the swing, "I'm your
friend, you can trust me."
    "What do you mean, I can trust
you, what are you talking about?" Tom was quickly losing patience
and had an agitated feeling growing inside him.
    "Take it easy, Tom," chimed the
boy.
    This was the final straw.
"Don't you tell me to take it easy," stormed Tom. "I'm lost and I
can't find my friend and you're just a little kid anyway!"
    The boy stopped swinging. "I'm
sorry," he said quietly and Tom, immediately regretting his
outburst and realising that anger would get him nowhere, decided he
could at least ask the child for directions home. He would then be
able to get Uncle Ira to help search for Jack.
    "I don't know how you know my
name," he began in as calm a voice as he could manage, "but as you
do, maybe you know my house too and you can tell me how to get back
there?"
    The small boy gazed at him with
what Tom thought was a rather wistful smile. "You can't go home
now, Tom," he said matter-of-factly.
    "What do you mean, I can’t go
home!?" Tom demanded, moving closer to the boy, facing him angrily,
his frustration rising once more despite his best efforts to keep
it at bay. "And who are you anyway?"
    The boy began to swing again.
"Like I said Tom, I’m your friend."
    "This is ridiculous!" Tom
growled.
    "Have you noticed anything odd,
Tom, anything strange? Look at the sky, what do you see?"
    Almost without thinking Tom
peered upward, a blue expanse marked by just a few swirls of wispy
cloud meeting his gaze. "I can't see anything," he said, although
an unsettling feeling of wrongness nagged at him.
    "Look closer, Tom," urged the
boy on the swing, "look deep into the firmament."
    Tom stared at the skies and
something indefinable began to happen to his vision, as if it were
widening, magnifying. He could see everything, his eyes crystals of
perception.
    "There is no sun," he said
listlessly, the knowledge of its absence distressing him in a
vague, almost impalpable way.
    "Affected light," the boy
called to him, "and shadows can be cast that are more real than you
can know. You've got a lot to learn."
    Tom closed his eyes and shook
his head. "Something isn't right here," he muttered, attempting to
gain control of his senses.
    "Nothing ever is in the
dream-time of the