had been gone half an hour
before he had finished the business that had turned him back.

After that he wandered about hunting for water -- a rivulet, a puddle,
anything. But the wet ground proved wet only on the surface moss.
Sanchez needed more than damp moss for his toilet. Casting about him,
hither and thither, for some depression that might indicate a stream, he
came to a heavily wooded slope, and descended it.

There was a bog at the foot. With his fouled hands he dug out a basin
which filled up full of reddish water, discoloured by alders.

But the water was redder still when his toilet ended.

As he stood there, examining his clothing, and washing what he could of
the ominous stains from sleeve and shoe, very far away to the north he
heard a curious noise -- a far, faint sound such as he never before had
heard. If it were a voice of any sort there was nothing human about it.
... Probably some sort of unknown bird. ... Perhaps a bird of prey. ...
That was natural, considering the attraction that Georgiades would have
for such creatures. ... If it were a bird it must be a large one, he
thought. ... Because there was a certain volume to the cry. ... Perhaps
it was a beast, after all. ... Some unknown beast of the forest. ...

Sanchez was suddenly afraid. Scarcely knowing what he was doing he
began to run along the edge of the bog.

First growth timber skirted it; running was unobstructed by underbrush.

With his startled ears full of the alarming and unknown sound, he ran
through the woods under gigantic pines which spread a soft green
twilight around him.

He was tired, or thought he was, but the alarming sounds were filling
his ears now; the entire forest seemed full of them, echoing in all
directions, coming in upon him from everywhere, so that he knew not in
which direction to run.

But he could no stop. Demoralised, he darted this way and that; terror
winged his feet; the air vibrated above and around him with the
dreadful, unearthly sounds.

The next instant he fell headlong over a ledge, struck water, felt
himself whirled around in the icy, rushing current, rolled over, tumbled
through rapids, blinded, deafened, choked, swept helplessly in a vast
green wall of water toward something that thundered in his brain an
instant, then dashed it into roaring chaos.

* * * * *

Half a mile down the turbulent outlet of Star Pond, -- where a great
sheet of green water pours thirty feet into the tossi