The forest had its share of undergrowth and windfallen trees, in some places there were fenced-in paddocks. They walked stumbling over tussocks.

Nobody answered their calls.

Their anxiety grew. The searchers got tired. Inger tried to pull herself together, but couldn't fight the fear creeping over her. What on earth could have happened to them? Where were they?

At three o'clock the bus arrived at the warden's to take the children back. Inger walked the children to the bus and asked the driver to wait for a short while.

"You can't walk the woods through alone," said the warden's wife beside the well.

Inger asked if she could go in and use their phone.

"Go through the kitchen, it's there, in the next room," the woman directed helpfully.

The line was engaged; in a minute or two when the dialling tone came on, she rang up the school.

"What are you babbling about?" retorted Soova's irritated voice. "What? To search for what?"

"Reet and Kersti are lost in the woods."

"How did you manage that?"

"They wanted to spend a penny ... " And before Inger had time to explain, the Head grated out,

"Don't play games, staff meeting is about to begin. Come here at once."

"I can't leave the children in the woods!" From the receiver came a click.

"Hallo! Hallo!" Inger shouted. She felt as if she had been left all alone on a desert islet just before nightfall.

She went out to stand on the steps and waved to the driver to drive away. The green bus swung out of the gates and disappeared among the trees. Inger stood and pondered what to do next. Whatever I do I mustn't get panicky. Perhaps they have come across some other road in the woods and gone in the wrong direction. There are many roads here and on the other side of the highway there is a swamp. They wouldn't have gone there in their right mind, would they? But who can tell ...

The warden who had stayed behind to search on his own came back. He hadn't found anybody.

"One simply can't get lost here," he explained again, puzzled. "We haven't got any dangerous wild animals here, neither have we any holes ... Children can't get lost between tussocks, they aren't needles for heaven's sake. Big girls, soon ready to peep at boys ... Here the woods aren't so very large either ... Whatever direction they took they'd have come across one road or another, maybe they mixed up the directions, One should walk the roads,"

"One can't just up and scoot all those roads through single-handed," the warden's wife, busy with her work in the yard, gave as her opinion. "A car would be just the thing ... "

Whence could Inger get a car? She stood helplessly on the steps. What could she do, who turn for help to? The warden is at home, but his horse isn't, has been lent to his nephew, planting potatoes. Helpful though he is, it isn't of much use.

Or did they, indeed, go to the swamp, are sitting somewhere under a bush and crying? Or did something peculiar happen to them? But what could have happened here of all places? It's daytime, no predatory animals ... But what if one of them has broken her leg and the other one is sitting by not being bright enough to come and look for help? Or did they get a fright of a hare, fox or roe deer, climbed a tree and now can't get down?

She already pictured herself facing a public prosecutor to account for everything that had taken place. And what would the children's mothers say?

Who could she go and ring up? Could she ask Soova to send the bus back–to search? Why didn't she think of it at once? To tell the truth, Soova hadn't let her get as much as a word in edgewise.

Again she was on the phone dialling the school number, but only long monotonous ringing tones sounded from the receiver. Nobody picked up the receiver at the other end. Of course, they were all at the staff meeting. No, from that quarter nobody will come to her aid.

Inger stood at the telephone.

Finally she picked the receiver up again, dialled a number and began to wait with bated breath. Already a deep, calm voice at the other end said,

"Yes?"

"Comrade Römmel, isn't it?"

"Speaking."

"It's Teacher Uunvald. I've lost two girls in the woods. I'm in a terrible fix. I don't know how to find them. A truck would be of great help,"

"Yes, I got it. Where are you calling from? I'll be there in less than no time," Arne's calm voice answered.

Now the only thing to do was to wait. The warden found the map of his district and pointing with his finger explained: here's the swamp, here's the bog-pool, but here, you see, runs the highway. It's no woodland track but a properly surfaced road.

His wife, too, tried to soothe the teacher,

"Don't fret yourself so, we will find them, you'll see. There aren't any bloodthirsty wild creatures here ... "

Brakes squealed to a stop in the yard and Arne came in, brown, brisk, white teeth laughing.

"Well, what seems to be the trouble?"

His coming was a load off Inger's mind.

"Girls got lost in the woods," the warden said, studying the map. "Look, here's the place."

"Umm. Okey, let's try and find them." Arne looked at Inger and said, "Let's zigzag the woodland roads. If we can't find them, we'll ring up the border guard post, they'll find them all right, they can bring the Canine Corps in."

No sooner had they taken their scats in the truck than a big, bony woman advanced on them from the road, taking long strides and ranting when still at the gates, gasping for breath,

"Trust you to take children to the woods and lose them there! I can't trail them everywhere. It's for school to discipline and watch them, who's to say what pitfall or trap they have fallen in. Nobody bothers, nobody cares. I'm the one who's to bring them up, to see to it that they've got clothes to put on and bread on the table. I, single-handed ... But who'd ever give me thanks? You don't know better than to drag them to the woods and lose them there. Some teacher you are, nothing else to do than to keep an eye on the children and you'd botch even that! Where were your eyes, I ask you?" the woman turned to Inger, a heavy angry flush sweeping her face. "Now you cast your eyes down, cat got your tongue? It isn't your heart that's aching. What do you know about children? You haven't borne them, you haven't brought them up. Little will you care if all of them get lost in the woods, are buried in the bog, drop dead on a tussock! You haven't the faintest notion how to teach and rear children!" she yelled at Inger, drops of spittle flying. "All day long I've got to string fish on a rod at the plant with no time to swap knives, in the evening I'm made to run about in the woods looking for children, what kind of public order is this? I'll never believe ... "

Arne punched the starter button, the roar of the engine drowned the woman's yelling.

The truck eased off down the clean, sandy woodland road. There were pines on either side, here and there some lighter green birches. From time to time Arne stopped the truck, climbed out and shouted in a loud ringing voice, "Beet! Kersti! Cooee!" They both listened keenly, but heard neither sound nor stirring.

Inger sat, huddled and unhappy.

"Don't let it get you, girl, we will find them, no fear," Arne comforted her. "Don't let the rattling of that silly woman throw you."

"She's right. I don't know anything about children and never will." Inger burst out crying. "Your wife could fling the same words at me."

"Now, now, girl, don't read too much into it." The man sighed and ran his right hand along her hair. "Don't cry, we'll think of something. At first we must find those two."

He stopped the truck by the brook, took the still weeping Inger by the hand and walked her down to the water.

"Let's bathe your face."

Inger washed her face and sobbed. The water was cool and pleasant.

Their next stop was at the site of an old forest fire. On either side of the road there were charred trees, fire-truncated stumps, trash and rubbish. Farther away, over the tops of the trees loomed a triangulation tower. Arne left Inger in the truck and went alone up the hillock to climb the tower. But even from there he couldn't see anything. On top of it the sky thickened with sullen clouds and a light rain began to fall.

A cuckoo was calling in the woods, the foliage of birches was light green, young and fresh. The day was drawing to a close. "They must have come out here," Arne stated. "There's a highway on the other side, if they had come out there, they'd have been in town long ago. Traffic is heavy there."

"But what if they crossed the road here?"

"That I don't believe. Then they must be crazy as coots. They get lost, reach a road and leave it again. It isn't the first time that they're in the woods, they've been here before mushrooming and berrying. That much has every child heard: in case you get lost and reach a road, never leave it."

They covered another dozen kilometres or so, then Arne stopped the truck.

"That's it. It's no use to drive further. We've already covered more than thirty kilometres, not on your life could they come thus far. They're either sitting in the woods, snivelling, or they did go in the opposite direction."

"Or have already come out?"

Arne turned the truck round and they went back. At the warden's they saw his wife leaving the cow-shed, milk-pail in hand.

"They haven't come and nobody has rung us up, either. My husband and that mother went to the paddock, they are walking about and cooeeing thereabouts, but to no avail. Never before have we had anything like that–big girls and get lost in the woods! My daughter and her children come here for summer holidays but nothing has ever happened. Her children are city-born and much younger. Maybe you're hungry, let's go in."

Arne thanked her and they drove on again. Inger's heart began to ache anew. She tried to argue that nothing could have happened to the girls excepting they still weren't there. They simply weren't and that was all there was to it.

"Shall we ring up the border guard post? If we can't find them before the dark, there'll be an all-Estonian scandal. The Ministry will issue a circular letter on top of the Head's written reprimand ... "

"All right," said Arne, "let's have a round on the other side, along the highway. If we can't find them there either, we'll put the call through, let them come and comb the woods then."

On the highway Arne flagged down an oncoming car and asked the driver if he hadn't seen two girls by the side of the road. The man with a round and fleshy face hadn't seen anybody. But the next man, a pockmarked van-driver, thought he had noticed someone, but couldn't identify them, they'd kept to the shrubbery, maybe spending a penny. The man gave a short hark of laughter and banged the door shut.

Arne switched on the headlights.

"I don't believe they were the children. Why should they linger here by the highway when they could have been at home long ago. We'd better turn off to the woods again."

"Let's drive a little farther," Inger begged. "There seems to be something like two dots on the road." Inger pointed towards the dim glow of sundown.

"Those there are grown-ups," said Arne disappointedly when they came nearer. "They aren't children."

Nevertheless, they were children, two frightened, streaky-faced, weepy girls huddling at the side of the road.

Inger jumped out of the truck and caught them in her arms. "We did manage to find you! Wherever were you hiding?"

"Teacher, we got lost," drawled Reet tearfully.

Continued in Part XXXII...

Christopher Marquet

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