Cabot sprang to his knees. The splashing continued, and indicated that the creature was attempting to crawl out of the water back onto the ledge to finish its rudely interrupted meal. But it was clearly having considerable difficulty in getting a foothold. So Cabot crept in the direction of the sounds and ran his hand along the edge of the ledge. His fingers came in contact with two webbed paws, which did not relinquish their grip at his touch. So, drawing back his hand, he doubled up his fist and then shot it out just above and between the two paws. It struck a slimy snout, which snapped feebly ere it gave way. Then a rippling splash, followed by silence.
Cabot waited for a few moments for the return of the creature. Then examined his foot. It appeared to be bloody and slightly lacerated, but not seriously damaged. His fingers were bruised from their terrific impact with the face of the aquatic monster. He was naked and cold. His toga and radio set were gone. But otherwise he seemed to be all right.
Thoroughly aroused now, he stood erect, stretched his arms and legs, drew a few deep breaths, and engaged in some rapid setting-up exercises. These over, he felt much better, ready in fact to resume his journey. But just how to resume his journey presented considerable of a problem.
Myles laughed grimly to himself as he reflected that now he did not even know in what direction lay the north. How, then, could he continue northward? This question was, of course, absurd. The immediate problem was not one of the points of the compass, but rather was one of getting out of these caves at all. He sat down on the ledge again to think.
Thus he remained for some time, but no bright ideas came. Merely longings for Lilla, grief for the death of their baby son, and despair for the condition of Cupia. But at last he roused himself. This would never do!
A ripple of water drew his attention to the river which flowed by. The river!
“It must flow somewhere,” he mused. “Why, probably it even flows north! For that was the direction when I crawled into it to escape the fire set by the Formians. As it entered these grottoes, so must it eventually leave them again. If I swim down stream, there will be no danger of circling, and sooner or later I will either emerge into daylight again—or be drowned. But what matter? Drowning won’t kill me any deader than starvation on this ledge.”
So saying, he dipped his hand into the stream to determine the direction of the current. But, as he did so, a slimy body just beneath the surface brushed his fingertips. Hastily he snatched his hand away. No river for him!
Instead he would walk down stream along the ledge, in the hope that the ledge would persist. At least he could follow the ledge as far as it went, and postpone his plunge into the depths until the ledge ended. So he groped his way cautiously along. The river wound in and out through the cave for over a stad, and the ledge followed it.
But finally Myles came to a place where his groping foot hung in the air. The ledge had abruptly terminated. He drew back his foot and leaned against the wall for a few moments. Then sat down on the ledge, reclined backward to rest his shoulders against the wall, and fell clear over, for there was no wall there. Scrambling quickly to his feet, he bumped his head with a resounding thwack which felled him to the floor again.