gled victim in his brain. It was upon him. Then
he missed his footing and fell--shot head first into a large ant-bear
hole, which yawned suddenly at his feet. Nothing else on this earth
could have saved him. He felt the vibration as that vast bulk thundered
past, and wormed himself with a mighty effort still further in, not
without fears that those dreadful horns might still contrive to dig
their way to him.

Suddenly the din ceased, but what was this? In front of him, in the
black darkness something growled.

It was not the original excavator of the hole, he knew, for the
ant-bear, which is not a "bear" at all but a timid and harmless beast,
does not growl. Well, at any rate, as the destroyer seemed to have
retreated, he had better retire as he had come, and leave this most
opportune hiding-place to its lawful owner. To that intent he made a
move to draw back.

But even with that slight move the growl grew more prolonged, more
vicious. And then Dick Selmes realised that the peril which he had just
escaped was as nothing to the ghastly peril he was in now. _He could
not withdraw_.

The hole slanted downwards at an angle of forty-five, and even then it
had required all the effort of despair to squeeze himself in where it
narrowed. But to do this from above was one thing, to squeeze himself
up again, and that backwards, was another. _He could not do it_.

The blood, all run to his head, seemed to burst his brain, and the
perspiration streamed from every pore, as his most violent and powerful
efforts failed to release him by a single inch. He was imprisoned by
where the tunnel narrowed over his legs. If he could have got at his
knife he might have done something, but his hands and arms were extended
straight out in front of him, nor could he draw them back. _He had
performed his own funeral_.

Who would know where to look for him? Even if he were found, it might
not be for days, and by that time it would be too late. He had entombed
himself, and a few yards in front of him some savage beast was growling
in the pitch darkness--some beast, cowardly it might be in itself, but
whose lair he was blocking, and which, realising his utter helplessness,
would speedily attack him, and gnaw its way to freedom _through him_.
Small wonder that an awful terror should freeze his every faculty.

What the creature might be he had no very definite idea. It was not a
leopard, or it would have attacked him sooner. It