e Law.
Say the words."

And incontinently he began again the strange litany of the Law,
and again I and all these creatures began singing and swaying.
My head reeled with this jabbering and the close stench of the place;
but I kept on, trusting to find presently some chance of a
new development.

"Not to go on all-fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?"

We were making such a noise that I noticed nothing of a tumult outside,
until some one, who I think was one of the two Swine Men I
had seen, thrust his head over the little pink sloth-creature
and shouted something excitedly, something that I did not catch.
Incontinently those at the opening of the hut vanished; my Ape-man
rushed out; the thing that had sat in the dark followed him
(I only observed that it was big and clumsy, and covered with silvery
hair), and I was left alone. Then before I reached the aperture I heard
the yelp of a staghound.

In another moment I was standing outside the hovel, my chair-rail
in my hand, every muscle of me quivering. Before me were the clumsy
backs of perhaps a score of these Beast People, their misshapen heads
half hidden by their shoulder-blades. They were gesticulating excitedly.
Other half-animal faces glared interrogation out of the hovels.
Looking in the direction in which they faced, I saw coming through
the haze under the trees beyond the end of the passage of dens the dark
figure and awful white face of Moreau. He was holding the leaping
staghound back, and close behind him came Montgomery revolver
in hand.

For a moment I stood horror-struck. I turned and saw the passage
behind me blocked by another heavy brute, with a huge grey
face and twinkling little eyes, advancing towards me.
I looked round and saw to the right of me and a half-dozen yards
in front of me a narrow gap in the wall of rock through which a ray
of light slanted into the shadows.

"Stop!" cried Moreau as I strode towards this, and then, "Hold him!"

At that, first one face turned towards me and then others.
Their bestial minds were happily slow. I dashed my shoulder
into a clumsy monster who was turning to see what Moreau meant,
and flung him forward into another. I felt his hands fly round,
clutching at me and missing me. The little pink sloth-creature
dashed at me, and I gashed down its ugly face with the nail
in my stick and in another minute was scrambling up a steep
side pathway, a kind of sloping chimney, out of the ravine.
I heard