drag them in obedience to the will. Such was my feeling in the
crack above the juniper tree. In truth, I had passed the bounds of my
endurance. Last night I had walked fifty miles, and all day I had
borne the torments of a dreadful suspense. I had been bound and gagged
and beaten till the force was out of my limbs. Also, and above all, I
had had little food, and I was dizzy with want of sleep. My feet seemed
leaden, my hands had no more grip than putty. I do not know how I
escaped falling into the pool, for my head was singing and my heart
thumping in my throat. I seemed to feel Laputa's great hand every
second clawing at my heels.

I had reason for my fears. He had entered the crack long before I had
reached the top, and his progress was twice as fast as mine. When I
emerged on the topmost shelf he was scarcely a yard behind me. But an
overhang checked his bulky figure and gave me a few seconds' grace. I
needed it all, for these last steps on the shelf were the totterings of
an old man. Only a desperate resolution and an extreme terror made me
drag one foot after the other. Blindly I staggered on to the top of
the ravine, and saw before me the Schimmel grazing in the light of the
westering sun.

I forced myself into a sort of drunken run, and crawled into the
saddle. Behind me, as I turned, I could see Laputa's shoulders rising
over the edge. I had no knife to cut the knee-halter, and the horse
could not stir.

Then the miracle happened. When the rope had gagged me, my teeth must
have nearly severed it at one place, and this Laputa had not noticed
when he used it as a knee-halter. The shock of my entering the saddle
made the Schimmel fling up his head violently, and the rope snapped. I
could not find the stirrups, but I dug my heels into his sides, and he
leaped forward.

At the same moment Laputa began to shoot. It was a foolish move, for
he might have caught me by running, since I had neither spurs nor whip,
and the horse was hampered by the loose end of rope at his knee. In
any case, being an indifferent shot, he should have aimed at the
Schimmel, not at me; but I suppose he wished to save his charger. One
bullet sang past my head; a second did my business for me. It passed
over my shoulder, as I lay low in the saddle, and grazed the beast's
right ear. The pain maddened him, and, rope-end and all, he plunged
into a wild gallop. Other shots came, but they fell far short. I saw
dimly a n