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Hodgson, William Hope, 1877-1918

"The House on the Borderland"

Even as I fumbled, the lantern
slipped from my fingers, and hurtled down into the darkness. For a brief
instant, I watched its fall, and saw the light shine on a tumult of
white foam, some eighty or a hundred feet below me. Then it was gone. My
sudden surmise was correct, and now, I knew the cause of the wet and
noise. The great cellar was connected with the Pit, by means of the
trap, which opened right above it; and the moisture, was the spray,
rising from the water, falling into the depths.
In an instant, I had an explanation of certain things, that had
hitherto puzzled me. Now, I could understand why the noises--on the
first night of the invasion--had seemed to rise directly from under my
feet. And the chuckle that had sounded when first I opened the trap!
Evidently, some of the Swine-things must have been right beneath me.
Another thought struck me. Were the creatures all drowned? Would they
drown? I remembered how unable I had been to find any traces to show
that my shooting had been really fatal.


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