Chapter Eight.
The fight for life.
“Yes! Yes! What is it?” Somebody had spoken in the black darkness, but it was some minutes before Dallas Adams could realise the fact that the words came from his own lips.
Then he heard a faint whisper from somewhere close by, and he was this time wide awake, and knew that he was answering that whisper.
“Where am I? What place is this?”
The question had come to him in his sleep, and for a few moments, so familiar were the sounds, he felt that he must have the tubes of a phonograph to his ears, and he listening to the thin, weird, wiry tones of his cousin’s voice.
Then, like a flash, all came back, and he knew not only that he had been asleep, but everything that had happened some time before.
“Bel, old lad,” he said huskily, and he winced with pain as he tried to stretch out his left hand.