And witness, not mute, was borne by the volume of noise which rolled up over the edge of the valley. I had thought that I had heard the limit of stupendous sound when years ago I stood at the brink of the Niagara, but the roar which arose from the Valley of the Howling Rocks dwarfed even Niagara by comparison. And into this chaos infernal I was about to be lowered. It was of course impossible to hear spoken farewells, so I patted the side of Doggo’s head good-by, at which last demonstration he turned away broken-hearted. But the others seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Then my shackles were removed, so as to give free play to my amusing antics during the torture, a strong rope was placed under my arms, and I was lowered into the pit. Even as I passed over the edge, my thoughts consisted chiefly in wondering, not what fate was in store for me, but rather what it was that made the noise. Always I shall remain an inquisitive scientist, I suppose. The noise became unbearable. Looking upward as the ropes spun me around, I saw the horrid face of the ant queen, leering over the edge. She lifted up a paw. To my surprise, the Formians who held the ropes began to raise me again. A reprieve? Life again on the planet Poros, with a possible chance of seeing my princess once more? No—merely a respite! Or, rather, a cat-and-mouse game which they were playing with me. Several times more I was lowered into the pit, was held there until I could scarcely bear the noise, and then was hauled up again for a brief breathing space. But finally my feet were permitted to touch the bottom, and the rope was pulled from beneath my arms. That awful noise—I cannot describe the agony of it! Madly I dashed back and forth, trying to avoid it; but there was no escape. “Lilla! Lilla!” I shrieked in agony, but the terrific din kept even me from hearing my own words. I stumbled on a boulder—and, falling, struck my head against a sharp rock. Then blessed oblivion! _11_ the valley of the shadow of death Driven crazy by the awful noise, I had finally fallen, as many a victim of the Valley of the Howling Rocks had done before. In falling I had knocked my head against a stone and had become unconscious. At last I gradually came to; and the first thing that I noticed, and that brought me out of my stupor with a jerk, was the fact that absolute silence reigned. I sat up and looked around. Yes, I was still in the same valley, surrounded by whitened bones and rusted carapaces. But the oppressive din had ceased. Had the death-dealing howls been purely an artificial creation, and had they been turned off at my supposed decease?