he confused questioning that
followed did nothing towards elucidating the cause of that sudden and
almost simultaneous uprising.

There was too much sneezing and coughing to permit of anything like
clear or coherent speech. The _shumu_ was still blowing. There was
sand in the mouths and nostrils of all four, and dust in their eyes.
Their talk more resembled the jabbering of apes, who had unwisely
intruded into a snuff-shop, than the conversation of four rational
beings.

It was some time before anyone of them could shape his speech so as to
be understood by the others; and, after all had at length succeeded in
making themselves intelligible, it was found that each had the same
story to tell. Each had felt two pressures on some part of his person;
and had seen, though very indistinctly, some huge creature passing over
him, apparently a quadruped, though what sort of quadruped none of them
could tell. All they knew was that it was a gigantic, uncouth creature,
with a narrow body and neck, and very long legs; and that it had feet
there could be no doubt, since it was these that had pressed so heavily
upon them.

But for the swirl of the sandstorm, and the dust already in their eyes,
they might have been able to give a better description of the creature
that had so unceremoniously stepped upon them. These impediments,
however, had hindered them from obtaining a fair view of it; and some
animal, grotesquely shaped, with a long neck, body, and legs, was the
image which remained in the excited minds of the awakened sleepers.

Whatever it was, they were all sufficiently frightened to stand for some
time trembling. Just awakening from such dreams, it was but natural
they should surrender themselves to strange imaginings; and, instead of
endeavouring to identify the odd-looking animal, if animal it was, they
were rather inclined to set it down as some creature of a supernatural
kind.

The three midshipmen were but boys; not so long from the nursery as to
have altogether escaped from the weird influence which many a nursery
tale had wrapped around them; and as for Old Bill, fifty years spent in
"ploughing the ocean" had only confirmed him in the belief that the
"black art" is not so mythical as philosophers would have us think.

So frightened were all four that, after the first ebullition of their
surprise had subsided, they no longer gave utterance to speech but stood
listening, and trembling as they listened. Perha