So strongly did imagination hold him that he did not observe how near it was to sunset, nor did he remark the threatening aspect of the sky.

Thunder awoke him from his dream; he looked, and saw a storm rapidly coming from the north-east.
He descended the hill, and sheltered himself as well as possible among some thick fir-trees.

After the lightning, the rain poured so heavily that it penetrated the branches, and he unstrung his bow and placed the string in his pocket, that it might not become wet.

Instantly there was a whoop on either side, and two gipsies darted from the undergrowth towards him.

While the terrible bow was bent they had followed him, tracking his footsteps; the moment he unstrung the bow, they rushed out.
Felix crushed through between the firs, by main force getting through, but only opening a passage for them to follow.