There came rest after that, a long silent rest. When Nathaniel slowly
climbed up out of the ebon shadows again the first consciousness that
came to him was that the word-demons had stopped their beating against
his brain and that he no longer heard the voice of the king. His relief
was so great that he breathed a restful sigh. Something touched him
then. Great God! were they coming back? Were they still
there--waiting--waiting--
It was a wonderfully familiar voice that spoke to him.
"Hello there, Nat! Want a drink?"
He gulped eagerly at the cool liquid that touched his lips.
"Neil," he whispered.
"It's me, Nat. They chucked me in with you. Hell's hole, isn't it?"
Nathaniel sat up, Neil's strong arm at his back. There was a light in
the room now and he could see his companion's face, smiling at him
encouragingly. The sight of it was like an elixir to him. He drank again
and new life coursed through him.
"Yes--hell of a hole!" he repeated drowsily. "Sorry for you--Neil--" and
he seemed to sleep again.
Neil laughed as he wiped his companion's face with a wet cloth.
"I'm used to it, Nat. Been here before," he said. "Can you get up?
There's a bench over here--not long enough to stretch you out on or I
would have made you a bed of it, but it's better than this mud to sit
on."
He put his arms about Nathaniel and helped him to his feet. For a few
moments the wounded man stood without moving.
"I'm not very bad, I guess," he said, taking a slow step.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151