But as he ran with labouring limbs, the sand ran down beneath him. He did not think, he could not, but it seemed to him that some black horror was behind, that he was in a nightmare in which he could make no progress. And looking up—yes, looking up, he said he saw the Baker on the top, shouting madly, "Come, come," and the man looked over and past him.
He made an incredible effort, and fell flat, but rose and leaped. As he fell again, the Baker caught his hand.
As he fell again, the Baker caught his hand.
"Hold my feet, Kitty," he cried, and the girl clutched his ankles.
The next moment Smith was on the top, and looked back on a round pit about thirty yards across, which went down to a point at a rapidly increasing angle. And the sand perpetually ran down the side; he could see it moving; but still the pit deepened and deepened.
"What is it?" he gasped.
But the Baker clutched him.
"Come away," he said in a whisper. And just then there was a black mouth to the pit, a little funnel hole, which grew till it was big enough for ten men to drop through. And the sand drained over its edges into a bottomless chasm.