At the far end of the concrete ring； Danny heard the stealthy crackle of dead
leaves as something came for him on its hands and knees。 At any moment he would
feel its cold hand close over his ankle —
That thought broke his paralysis。 He was digging at the loose fall of snow
that choked the end of the concrete ring； throwing it back between his legs in
powdery bursts like a dog digging for a bone。 Blue light filtered down from
above and Danny thrust himself up at it like a diver ing out of deep water。
He scraped his back on the lip of the concrete ring。 One of his snowshoes
twisted behind the other。 Snow spilled down inside his ski mask and into the
collar of his parka。 He dug at the snow； clawed at it。 It seemed to be trying to
hold him； to suck him back down； back into the concrete ring where that unseen；
leaf…crackling thing was； and keep him there。 Forever。
Then he was out； his face was turned up to the sun； and he was crawling
through the snow； crawling away from the half…buried cement ring； gasping
harshly； his face almost ically white with powdered snow — a living fright…
mask。 He hobbled over to the jungle gym and sat down to readjust his snowshoes
and get his breath。 As he set them to rights and tightened the straps again； he
never took his eyes from the hole at the end of the concrete ring。 He waited to
see if something would e out。 Nothing did； and after three or four minutes；
Danny's breathing began to slow down。 Whatever it was； it couldn't stand the
sunlight。 It was cooped up down there； maybe only able to e out when it was
dark。。。 or when both ends of its circular prison were plugged with snow。
（but i'm safe now i'm safe i'll just go back because now i'm ）
Something thumped softly behind him。
He turned around； toward the hotel； and looked。 But even before he looked
（Can you see the Indians in this picture？）
he knew what he would see； because he knew what that soft thumping sound had
been。 It was the sound of a large clump of snow falling； the way it sounded when
it slid off the roof of the hotel and fell to the ground。
（Can you see — ？）
Yes。 He could。 The snow had fallen off the hedge dog。 When he came down it had
only been a harmless lump of snow outside the playground。 Now it stood revealed；
an incongruous splash of green in all the eye…watering whiteness。 It was sitting
up； as if to beg a sweet or a scrap。
But this time he wouldn't go crazy； he wouldn't blow his cool。 Because at
least he wasn't trapped in some dark old hole。 He was in the sunlight。 And it
was just a dog。 It's pretty warm out today； he thought hopefully。 Maybe the sun
just melted enough snow off that old dog so the rest fell off in a bunch。 Maybe
that's all it is。
（Don't go near that place 。。。 steer right clear。）
His snowshoe bindings were as tight as they were ever going to be。 He stood up
and stared back at the concrete ring； almost pletely submerged in the snow；
and what he saw at the end he had exited from froze his heart。 There was a
circular patch of darkness at the end of it； a fold of shadow that marked the
hole he'd dug to get down inside。 Now； in spite of the snow…dazzle； he thought
he could see something there。 Something moving。 A hand。 The waving hand of some
desperately unhappy child； waving hand； pleading hand； drowning hand。
（Save me O please save me If you can't save me at least e play with me。。。
Forever。 And Forever。 And Forever。）
〃No；〃 Danny whispered huskily。 The word fell dry and bare from his mouth；
which was stripped of moisture。 He could feel his mind wavering now； trying to
go away the way it had when the woman in the room had 。。。 no； better not think
of that。
He grasped at the strings of reality and held them tightly。 He had to get out
of here。 Concentrate on that。 Be cool。 Be like the Secret Agent Man。 Would
Patrick McGoohan be crying and peeing in his pants like a little baby？
Would his daddy？
That calmed him somewhat。
From behind him； that soft Hump sound of falling snow came again。 He turned
around and the head of one of the hedge lions was sticking out of the snow now；
snarling at him。 It was closer than it should have been； almost up to the gate
of the playground。
Terror tried to rise up and he quelled it。 He was the Secret Agent Man； and he
would escape。
He began to walk out of the playground； taking the same roundabout course his
father had taken on the day that the snow flew。 He concentrated on operating the
snowshoes。 Slow； flat strides。 Don't lift your foot too high or you'll lose your
balance。 Twist your ankle and spill the snow off the crisscrossed lacings。 It
seemed so slow。 He reached the corner of the playground。 The snow was drifted
high here and he was able to step over the fence。 He got halfway over and then
almost fell flat when the snowshoe on his behind foot caught on one of the fence
posts。 He leaned on the outside edge of gravity； pinwheeling his arms；
remembering how hard it was to get up once you fell down。
From his right； that soft sound again； falling clumps of snow。 He looked over
and saw the other two lions； clear of snow now down to their forepaws； side by
side； about sixty paces away。 The green indentations that were their eyes were
fixed on him。 The dog had turned its head。
（It only happens when you're not looking。）
〃Oh！ Hey — 〃
His snowshoes had crossed and he plunged forward into the snow； arms waving
uselessly。 More snow got inside his hood and down his neck and into the tops of
his boots。 He struggled out of the snow and tried to get the snowshoes under
him； heart hammering crazily now
（Secret Agent Man remember you're the Secret Agent）
and overbalanced backward。 For a moment he lay there looking at the sky；
thinking it would be simpler to just give up。
Then he thought of the thing in the concrete tunnel and knew he could not。 He
gained his feet and stared over at the topiary。 All three lions were bunched
together now； not forty feet away。 The dog had ranged off to their left； as if
to block Danny's retreat。 They were bare of snow except for powdery ruffs around
their necks and muzzles。 They were all staring at him。
His breath was racing now； and the panic was like a rat behind his forehead；
twisting and gnawing。 He fought the panic and he fought the snowshoes。
（Daddy's voice： No； don't fight them； doc。 Walk on them like they were your
own feet。 Walk with them。）
（Yes； Daddy。）
He began to walk again； trying to regain the easy rhythm he had practiced with
his daddy。 Little by little it began to e； but with the rhythm came an
awareness of just how tired he was； how much his fear had exhausted him。 The
tendons of his thighs and calves and ankles were hot and trembly。 Ahead he could
see the Overlook； mockingly distant； seeming to stare at him with its many
windows； as if this were some sort of contest in which it was mildly interested。
Danny looked back over his shoulder and his hurried breathing caught for a
moment and then hurried on even faster。 The nearest lion was now only twenty
feet behind；