“Miranda… !” There was no answering voice. The awful silence
closed in and Edith began, quite loudly now, to scream. If her
terrified cries had been heard by anyone but a wallaby squatting
in a clump of bracken a few feet away, the picnic at Hanging
Rock might yet have been just another picnic on a summer’s
day. Nobody did hear them. The wallaby sprang up in alarm and
bounded away, as Edith turned back, plunged blindly into the
scrub and ran, stumbling and screaming, towards the plain.