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Dwyer, James Francis

"The White Waterfall"


"If I could have one more fling at them." groaned Holman. "By all that's
holy, Verslun, I feel that I could fight a million if these ropes were
off me."
He endeavoured to get his face down to the bandages on my wrists, but we
had been strapped in such a manner that it was impossible to reach any
of the ropes with our teeth, so we lay quiet and reviewed the legion of
tormenting thoughts that marched through our minds. The jungle, like the
three natives, seemed to be waiting for a happening. The silence was
more horrible than the thunder of an earthquake. It seemed to well out
from the silent three, till we longed with a great longing for some
terrific and prolonged noise to shiver it and send battalions of echoes
to chase it into the hills.
The moon peered above the black cliffs, and the surroundings became more
distinct. We were on the edge of a clearing, and there was something
vaguely familiar about the trees that our cramped position allowed us
to see. We felt certain that we had passed this place on our journey
from the yacht, and each minute that passed strengthened the conviction.


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