“Here! We're right under it!” Hawkins shouted. “This way, Griggs! Quick! Lord! It's coming down—it'll hit you! Quick!”
And I dived toward Hawkins as he was struggling for a foothold, and then——
A line of asterisks is the only way of putting into print my state of mind—or absence of any state of mind—for the ensuing quarter of an hour.
My first idea was that some absent-minded person had built a three-story house upon my unhappy body; but I was joggling and bouncing up and down, so that that hypothesis was manifestly untenable.
The weight of the house was there, though, and all about was stifling blackness.
I tried to turn. It was useless. I couldn't move.
The house had me pinned down hard and fast.
Then I wriggled frantically, and something near me wriggled frantically as well. Then one of my hands struck something that yielded, and there came a muffled voice from somewhere in the neighborhood.
“Griggs!” it said.