Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 329: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

320 body, the long sinuous neck came for- ward a like space. The thin snout was now fairly in the cavern. The nattseous breath hissed at us in gusts—sicken- ing as a plague wind. Suddenly the lithe neck stiffened. The evil eyes concentrated their gaze upon Gwen. Their stare seemed to go past my cheek with the searing direct- ness of a flashlight. In an instant the memory of the power that lay in that wicked glare came back to me. I dashed forward and clapped my palms upon Gwen’s face, calling to her wildly to close her eyes. I gathered her to my bosom—and oh, the ecstasy of it, even in that desperate stress— and stammered incoherently of the fatal trap that lay in that terrible, unwink- ing gaze. She was content enough to bury her face in the folds of my loose. jacket, and thus for a moment we stood shudder- ing. Fidget crept and fawned shiver- ingly about Gwen’s skirts. I kicked my foot against an object on the floor. It was the tin of mustard Gwen had been carrying when she started on that mad race down the boulders. It was new and shining, just out of store. I held it before my face to look at the reflection therein. Finding his efforts unavailing, the Monster was drawing his head back into the outer part of the cave, relax- ing his tense glare. We turned to face him. He curved his neck into a half circle, his great throat muscles work- ing with swallowings. Then with a sudden dart he flung it out upon us, gaping wide his mouth. With a rasp and a roar his breath burst upon us, and upon the wall of rock at our back, hissing stridently like a gale through taut rigging. It beat us back almost irresistibly in the return draft, thrusting us out from the back of the cave towards his waiting lips. For one desperate moment we swayed in that noisome gust, and my free arm—tor one still encircled Gwen’s THE ARGOSY. waist—whirled in the air frantically as I braced myself to meet it. But as its first strength died down I flung myself with Gwen upon the ground, and grasping at a ledge hung on with de- Spair’s own grip. In-the case of Fidget the Monster’s wile defeated his object. The back swirl of his breath whisked the little dog like a leaf past the lowering head and on into the outer cleft. With a sound half bark, half squeal she leaped upon the unwieldly body be- fore the neck could coil itself out of the inner cave. We heard her yapping pass swiftly out among the boulders, and die away up the empty lakeside. There was the thud of a bullet on the thick hide, and the crack of a rifle fol- lowed smartly on the shot. A flake or scale of parchmenty skin floated past the cave mouth, and rustled slowly into the depths below; not by so much as the flicker of an eyelid did the brute show that he had felt anything. - Another shot followed, with the same result. They clattered on—above a score of them—but they worried him no more than the buzzings of mosqut- toes. Finally one must have hit a wart- like excrescence on his shoulder. A lump about.the size of my fist fell with a flop upon the stones, glanced ruddily for a second, and bounced on into the ~ depths below. But it left a telltale smear upon the pranite, and scarlet drops trickled down the hanging neck, dripping in a small pool at the threshold of the cave. Yet the Monster lay unheeding, and we began to gasp with the unutterable murkiness of his breathing, which filled the air. CHAPTER XIX. A HOMELY MISSILE. At Gwen’s request I passed her the tin of mustard, and she held it like a smelling bottle to her nostrils, to get relief from the disgusting fog. We COM ElOOO CO