Fantasy fiction; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction
They could not speak, so strained were their nerves; but their eyes
followed every motion he made. They saw him turn to the fire and
slowly rub himself with his hands; then take a bottle, and striking
its top against the side of the fire-place, break it open and take a
deep draught of its contents, giving no heed to its broken and ragged
edges. They saw him open a chest and take from it what appeared to be a
quilt and throw it around him, and then, seating himself at the fire,
continue the rubbing as before.
Lyman, Rawolle's assistant, was about to speak, but the latter motioned
him to silence, saying, under his breath:
"Hush! let us see what this all means--what this man will do; for it is
a scene that may never again be enacted upon this earth."
Cobb, for he it was, as is already surmised, did not sit long in front
of the fire, but soon arose and took from his breast and back the two
copper discs which were held in place by a band; then tearing off the
bandages from the lower part of his body, he threw them to one side;
next he placed upon the fire a small stew-pan, filling it with the
liquor from another bottle which he had taken up and opened.
In a minute the savory odor of cooking meat came to the nostrils of the
watchers, while Cobb, taking it from the fire, poured it into a cup and
began drinking it. Five minutes longer they watched him, during which
time he had finished his repast, and had partially arrayed himself in
clothing which he took from one of the boxes.
No longer able to restrain himself, Rawolle placed his head within the
breach, and in a quiet tone of voice, so as not to startle Cobb, said:
"Your friends are here and waiting to assist you; what shall we do?
See! we are at this hole which we have made endeavoring to gain
entrance to your cell."
As the words were spoken, the sound seemed to startle even the speaker,
as well as the others, and Cobb turned, and for a moment shook as if
some terrible vision had passed before his eyes; but, as the faces of
the men were distinctly visible by the reflection from the fire and the
incandescent lamp above it, he soon regained his composure, and in a
weak voice asked:
"Who are you that have dared to break into this place? By what
misfortune am I thus disturbed and my plans upset? By whose authority
do you come? Have you gained the knowledge through Mr. Craft or Mr.
Hathaway?"
"It is by the order of the former, sir, that we have broken into this
chamber," replied Rawolle, not knowing the exact import of Cobb's
question.
"Alas!" murmured Cobb, "are there no true friends on earth?"
With trembling limbs he sank down upon a box near the fire, but just in
view of the others.
"We are ordered to rescue you, Mr. Cobb," added Rawolle; "and your weak
condition demands immediate succor. Waste no time, we implore. It is
the President's order."
"Whose order?" quickly exclaimed Cobb.
"President Craft's."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account