delusion, and that he must soon wake and find
relief; but when he did, the relief did not come for the horrors of the
dream were continued in the reality, and his lips parted to utter a wild
cry; but lips, tongue, and throat were all parched and dry, and he lay
there in an agony which seemed maddening.

There was no question now of where he was, for though it was intensely
dark he knew well enough, for he had awakened into full consciousness
with every sense unnaturally sharpened, and making things clear. His
limbs were like lead still, but it was not from nightmare, for they were
numbed and helpless. There was the unpleasant odour of the burnt-out
candle, and the sickly smoke hanging about him, as if the light had but
lately gone out, and he could hear Joe's stertorous breathing as if he
too were in trouble; and simultaneously with it came the knowledge that,
after all, the cavernous place out of which the water had been drained
was inhabited by strange beasts, one of which had attacked him.

For the moment he was ready to explain it as a form of nightmare, but it
was too real. It was the hard stern reality itself. There was the
weight upon his chest, but not the heavy inert mass of a hideous dream,
but that of some creature full of palpitating life extended upon him.
He could feel the motion as it breathed, the heavy pulsations of its
heart, and, worst horror of all, the hot breath from its panting jaws
not many inches from his brow.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

MAN'S GOOD FRIEND.

Gwyn tried hard to cry aloud to his companion for help--to make an
effort for life; but for what seemed to him to be a long space of time
he could not stir. At last, though, when he could bear the horror no
longer, and just as the creature moved as if gathering its legs beneath
it like some cat about to spring, the boy made a sudden heave, and threw
the beast from his chest, at the same time struggling to rise and make
for where he felt that Joe was lying; but with a strange, hollow cry the
animal sprang at him with such force that he was driven backwards, while
the creature regained its position upon his chest, and Gwyn lay back
half paralysed.

But not from fear. Astonishment and delight had that effect, and, weak
and prostrated as he was for some moments, he could not speak.

At last one word escaped from his lips, and in an instant--_throb,
throb, throb, throb_--there was a heavy beating on his ribs, a joyous
whining sound