I looked fixedly at Gwen as these terrors hunted each other through my brain, and I suppose my thoughts shadowed out upon my face.
She turned her eyes to mine as I held her, looking questioningly at me, as if she would read my very soul. A sob and gurgle from the rising water sounded out bell-like and clear, moaning distinctly across the silence. I knew by the shudder that ran through her that she was realizing what must happen when it lapped up to us. Her face fell upon my breast; her hands rose tremblingly to my shoulders; so for a few moments we stood, and silence hung between us.
The white clouds of steam began to weave and whirl fantastically across the mouth of the cave. The warm, damp air played about us. The suck and splash of the waters sounded ever nearer and clearer from below. Above we could hear the wheeze and the occasional gasp of the watching Monster, and his feet moved restlessly, sending down showers of little stones into the abyss, where they no longer clattered into emptiness, but fell with splashings into the growing flood. Then a thrill pulsed through the rocks, and we could feel the sickening heave and roll of the earth as a new eruption shook the crater. In a second or two the roar of it came dully down to us, drowning the sound of the rifle shots which still pattered at intervals on the rocks, or thudded on that sensationless hide.
Finally the water rose to view, creeping with slow, silent tide up the rocks, gaining inch by inch upon the sides of the cleft. A wreath of steam hung mistily upon its surface. I bent and touched it with my finger. It was warm—about eighty degrees I should imagine—but not unbearable.
I stepped again to the cave mouth and peered up. The cruel snout still projected over the edge above, waiting, waiting remorselessly. As I watched the triangular head moved forward a space, and, turning sideways, looked down at me with hot, revengeful eyes. I stepped back into the shadow of the cave, and down flashed the head, hanging in eager, swaying motion before us, gloating for the moment when we should be thrust out to it by the rising flood.
I slushed back to the end of the cave—the water was now at our knees—and took Gwen in my arms, shielding the gruesome sight from her with my breast. She drooped into my embrace again, trembling, but with a little thankful sigh for companionship in this last desperate pang.
“It’ll soon be over,” I said as steadily as I could, while my hand brushed her hair smoothingly. “Just a little struggle, and then a dream that carries you right across the border, and—and I shall be there to meet you. Do you see, dear?”
I had no right to call her dear, I know, she being Denvarre’s and not mine, but it was the last time, and, poor little soul, she wanted comfort for the last wrench. She looked up at me, and I could see that her lips were parched and dry, though there was a curious light shining in her eyes.
“Is there no chance at all?—are you sure?” she whispered, and for all the horror that was closing down upon us, a smile shone in her eyes.
“None, I fear,” said I; “but—but I don’t think it’ll be bad—people who have been nearly drowned say that——”