For
each respiration I made, I could hear an answering breath. The sounds
appeared to be coming nearer; and then, I heard several others; but
fainter and more distant. Why I did not grip the rope, and spring up out
of danger, I cannot say. It was as though I had been paralyzed. I broke
out into a profuse sweat, and tried to moisten my lips with my tongue.
My throat had gone suddenly dry, and I coughed, huskily. It came back to
me, in a dozen, horrible, throaty tones, mockingly. I peered,
helplessly, into the gloom; but still nothing showed. I had a strange,
choky sensation, and again I coughed, dryly. Again the echo took it up,
rising and falling, grotesquely, and dying slowly into a
muffled silence.
Then, suddenly, a thought came to me, and I held my breath. The other
breathing stopped. I breathed again, and, once more, it re-commenced.
But now, I no longer feared. I knew that the strange sounds were not
made by any lurking Swine-creature; but were simply the echo of my own
respirations.
Yet, I had received such a fright, that I was glad to scramble up the
rift, and haul up the rope.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131