ereens all world's records it was I that day
when I fled before those hideous beasts along the narrow spit of rocky
cliff between two narrow fiords toward the Sojar Az. Just as I reached
the verge of the cliff the foremost of the brutes was upon me. He
leaped and closed his massive jaws upon my shoulder.

The momentum of his flying body, added to that of my own, carried the
two of us over the cliff. It was a hideous fall. The cliff was almost
perpendicular. At its foot broke the sea against a solid wall of rock.

We struck the cliff-face once in our descent and then plunged into the
salt sea. With the impact with the water the hyaenodon released his
hold upon my shoulder.

As I came sputtering to the surface I looked about for some tiny foot-
or hand-hold where I might cling for a moment of rest and recuperation.
The cliff itself offered me nothing, so I swam toward the mouth of the
fiord.

At the far end I could see that erosion from above had washed down
sufficient rubble to form a narrow ribbon of beach. Toward this I swam
with all my strength. Not once did I look behind me, since every
unnecessary movement in swimming detracts so much from one's endurance
speed. Not until I had drawn myself safely out upon the beach did I
turn my eyes back toward the sea for the hyaenodon. He was swimming
slowly and apparently painfully toward the beach upon where I stood.

I watched him for a long time, wondering, why it was that such a
doglike animal was not a better swimmer. As he neared me I realized
that he was weakening rapidly. I had gathered a handful of stones to
be ready for his assault when he landed, but in a moment I let them
fall from my hands. It was evident that the brute either was no
swimmer or else was severely injured, for by now he was making
practically no headway. Indeed, it was with quite apparent difficulty
that he kept his nose above the surface of the sea.

He was not more than fifty yards from shore when he went under. I
watched the spot where he had disappeared, and in a moment I saw his
head reappear. The look of dumb misery in his eyes struck a chord in
my breast, for I love dogs. I forgot that he was a vicious, primordial
wolf-thing--a man-eater, a scourge, and a terror. I saw only the sad
eyes that looked like the eyes of Raja, my dead collie of the outer
world.

I did not stop to weigh and consider. In other words, I did not stop
to think, which I believe must be the way of