ce we stood clear.

"Nothing bad, I think," he answered. "My throat is stiff, and two or
three of the brutes got their teeth in me. In the name of Heaven,
Paul, what are they? And what was that bell?"

These were foolish questions, and I told him so. My leg was bleeding
badly where I had slashed myself, and I, too, had felt their teeth.
But, despite our utter weariness and our wounds, we wanted nothing--not
even rest--so badly as we wanted to get away from that awful heap of
flesh and blood and the odor of it.

Besides, we did not know at what moment they might return. So I spoke,
and Harry agreed. I led the way; he followed.

But which way to turn? We wanted water, both for our dry and burning
throats and for our wounds; and rest and food. We thought little of
safety. One way seemed as likely as another, so we set out with our
noses as guides.

A man encounters very few misfortunes in this world which, later in
life, he finds himself unable to laugh at; well, for me that endless
journey was one of the few.

Every step was torture. I had bandaged the cut on my leg as well as
possible, but it continued to bleed. But it was imperative that we
should find water, and we struggled on, traversing narrow passages and
immense caverns, always in complete darkness, stumbling over unseen
rocks and encountering sharp corners of cross passages.

It lasted I know not how many hours. Neither of us would have survived
alone. Time and again Harry sank to the ground and refused to rise
until I perforce lifted him; once we nearly came to blows. And I was
guilty of the same weakness.

But the despair of one inspired the other with fresh strength and
courage, and we struggled forward, slower and slower. It was
soul-destroying work. I believe that in the last hour we made not more
than half a mile. I know now that for the greater part of the time we
were merely retracing our steps in a vicious circle!

It was well that it ended when it did, for we could not have held out
much longer. Harry was leading the way, for I had found that that
slight responsibility fortified him. We no longer walked, we barely
went forward, staggering and reeling like drunken men.

Suddenly Harry stopped short, so suddenly that I ran against him; and
at the same time I felt a queer sensation--for I was too far gone to
recognize it--about my feet.

Then Harry stooped over quickly, half knocking me down as he did so,
and dropped to his