He tried to bridge it, but he could not. There was only a quickening of
the desire to go on westward. He felt suddenly certain that he would
find the Aesir in that direction.
He took a hesitant step--and another. And with each step, a queer,
unmotivated confidence poured into him. As though some barrier in his
mind had broken down, letting some strange flood of proud defiance rush
in.
It was impossible. It was dangerous. But--certainly--no more dangerous
than supinely waiting here on Asgard till another Watcher came to
destroy him. There were worse things than the starry Watchers here, if
legends were to be trusted.
He went on, the curious tide of defiance rising higher and ever higher
in his blood. It was a strangely intoxicating sense of--of pure, crazy
self-confidence such as no man should rightfully have felt on this
haunted asteroid.
He wondered--but the drunkenness was such that he did not wonder much.
He did not question.