t teeth upon his jugular. He
turned and twisted, shaking himself free for an instant; but once more
with hideous persistence the thing fastened itself upon him. The weak
jaws were unable to send the dull teeth through the victim's flesh; but
Bradley felt it pawing, pawing, pawing, like a monstrous rat, seeking
his life's blood.

The skinny arms now embraced his neck, holding the teeth to his throat
against all his efforts to dislodge the thing. Weak as it was it had
strength enough for this in its mad efforts to eat. Mumbling as it
worked, it repeated again and again, "Food! Food! There is a way
out!" until Bradley thought those two expressions alone would drive him
mad.

And all but mad he was as with a final effort backed by almost maniacal
strength he tore his wrists from the confining bonds and grasping the
repulsive thing upon his breast hurled it halfway across the room.
Panting like a spent hound Bradley worked at the thongs about his
ankles while the maniac lay quivering and mumbling where it had fallen.
Presently the Englishman leaped to his feet--freer than he had ever
before felt in all his life, though he was still hopelessly a prisoner
in the Blue Place of Seven Skulls.

With his back against the wall for support, so weak the reaction left
him, Bradley stood watching the creature upon the floor. He saw it
move and slowly raise itself to its hands and knees, where it swayed to
and fro as its eyes roved about in search of him; and when at last they
found him, there broke from the drawn lips the mumbled words: "Food!
Food! There is a way out!" The pitiful supplication in the tones
touched the Englishman's heart. He knew that this could be no Wieroo,
but possibly once a man like himself who had been cast into this pit of
solitary confinement with this hideous result that might in time be his
fate, also.

And then, too, there was the suggestion of hope held out by the
constant reiteration of the phrase, "There is a way out." Was there a
way out? What did this poor thing know?

"Who are you and how long have you been here?" Bradley suddenly
demanded.

For a moment the man upon the floor made no response, then mumblingly
came the words: "Food! Food!"

"Stop!" commanded the Englishman--the injunction might have been barked
from the muzzle of a pistol. It brought the man to a sitting posture,
his hands off the ground. He stopped swaying to and fro and appeared
to be startled into an attempt