Maru and Kaipi were
hallooing far behind, but Holman and I ran side by side, our minds
unable to think of anything but the capture of the human tiger in front.
We were gaining on him. We could hear his laboured breathing, and I
remembered with a thrill of satisfaction the wound that he had received
the night before. It was only a question of time when we would have our
fingers on his throat. "Keep it up!" gasped Holman. "We've got him,
Verslun! We've got him!"
It looked like it. The red glow from the torch enabled us to catch an
occasional glimpse of shoes moving up and down at such a rate that the
limbs to which they were attached always remained outside the area that
was faintly illuminated. The momentary view of the footgear, together
with the maddening _plop plop_ it made upon the rock, raised an insane
idea within my brain that we were chasing a pair of bewitched shoes that
were enticing us into the very heart of the mountain. The scanty diet
and the happenings of the two preceding days had left me light-headed.
The race was unreal. I had an idea that the shoes would run on forever,
and that every yard they covered took me farther away from Edith
Herndon.
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