The animal had been dashing down an incline for some time. Emerging from a belt of verdure with startling suddenness, a sheer dip to the edge of a cliff was visible.
The dadon could not stay its course. It fairly slipped the length of the dip. So fast did the animal go that Dave had not time to leave its back before its flying hoofs had struck nothingness.
Forty feet down a dead-water bay showed, dotted with islands. The sensation of descent was one of breathlessness.
The animal struck the water squarely with its forefeet. Steed and rider were borne under completely.
Dave arose, free from the animal at last.
He floated, catching his breath, and saw the dadon swim towards the shore and go scampering out of sight along the wooded beach.
"Well," commented Dave, "here's an adventure. I'm thankful for whole bones. I hope that Daley has fared quite as luckily."
Dave swam ashore. He sat down by some bushes and took off his coat, to dry it in the sun. Under the bushes was plenty of dead wood, and he reached out and secured two pieces to form a sort of clothes-bar.
These he had arranged in due order. Dave reached for a third piece. He seized what he supposed to be a fragment of old wood. It felt soft, yielding, and drew away from his hand with startling suddenness.
"Eh, why," cried Dave. "A human foot!"