My legs again threatened to bend under the weight of my body and topple it over to certain and awful death, when a last glance revealed to me the terrible truth.
“Bulger! they are alive!”
A sharp, despairing yelp came from my poor dog.
“They’re alive, I tell you! Some legion of monsters, devils, for aught I know, escaped from the depths of Tartarus, intent to roll over us and crush the life from our puny bodies!”
Again we redoubled our efforts.
“For your life, Bulger!” I gasped, “for your life! Look! the wood, the wood!”
He caught my meaning, and gave a sharp, encouraging bark.
But no, it was useless.
My strength had been used to its last poor throb.
It grew dark before my eyes.