The first was very catchy and strange, the second caused him acute suffering, and the third was deep, strong, and life-inspiring.
“That’s it,” said Vince to himself—“it is imagination; for if the seals, which are things that have to come up to the surface to breathe, can live in here, why can’t I?”
Vince again took a deep breath, and another, and another, and so great a feeling of vigour ran through him that he laughed aloud, and Mike started up.
“What is it?” he said.
“Listen,” cried Vince; and he loudly drew breath, and expressed it as loudly, then, “Do that,” he cried.
“I—I can hardly get mine. This place is stifling.”
“Try,” said Vince. “That’s right. Again! Better. Now take a long pull. How are you now?”
“Oh, better—better,” said Mike eagerly.
“Breathe again.”
“Yes, yes; I am breathing better and better. Then the air is coming now?”