r surprise
than he had yet encountered. Nothing was changed about the interior,
and the wounded man lay as Cabot had left him, but with the appearance
of the latter he exclaimed:
"Thank God, dear lad, that you have come back to me! It seemed as
though I should go crazy if left alone a minute longer."
Cabot stared in amazement. "Is it a miracle?" he finally asked, "and
has your speech been restored to you, or have you been able to speak
all the time?"
"I have been able, but not willing," was the reply. "I had thought to
die without speaking to a human being. I even avoided my fellows,
believing myself sufficient unto myself. But God has punished my
arrogance and shown me my weakness. Until you came no stranger has
ever set foot within this dwelling, to none have I spoken, and not even
to you did I intend to speak, but with your going my folly became
plain. I feared you might never return; the horror of living alone,
and the greater horror of dying alone, swept over me. Then I prayed
for you to come. I promised to speak as soon as you were within
hearing. Every moment since then I have watched for you and longed for
your coming as a dying man longs for the breath of life. Promise that
you will not leave me again."
"I have already promised, and now I repeat, that I will not leave you
so long as you have need of me," replied Cabot. "But tell me----"
"I will tell you everything," interrupted the wounded man, "but first
you must look after the dynamo. It has stopped, and if you cannot set
it going again we must both perish."
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE MAN-WOLF'S STORY.
An accident to the dynamo in that place where there was no fuel, and
electricity must be depended upon for light and heat, was so serious a
matter that, for a moment, even Cabot's curiosity concerning his host
was merged in anxiety.
"Where shall I find it?" he asked.
"In the cavern back of this room. The doorway is behind that bearskin.
This upper row of keys connects with the storage battery, and the
second key controls the lights of the dynamo room. If there is a bad
break I can manage to get to it, but I wouldn't try until you came,
because I promised not to move."
All this was said in a voice that faltered from weakness, and a wave of
pity surged in Cabot's breast as he realised how dependent upon him
this man, so recently a mental as well as a physical giant, had become.
"I expect I shall be able to attend to it al
|