Just as I had thoroughly determined to make bravery my one inflexible gesture, no matter what they did to me, I became aware of a presence approaching. It was only the faintest sort of rustling sound, as though someone in a flapping kimono and sandals were walking toward me. That someone, or something, was coming toward me in absolute darkness, apparently moving at a steady pace in spite of that fact, made my bravery dissolve into thin air. After all, what is fear? We can steel ourselves to meet known dangers philosophically, or even unknown ones if they are not totally unexpected; but when we are suddenly confronted with the unknown, with all its potentialities of horror aggravated by the awful cloak of inky darkness, or any equally terrifying circumstance, we become as frightened children. It is only natural. As the rustling sound grew louder, I involuntarily uttered a stifled, sobbing moan, and sought to crawl away in the opposite direction. I found that I could not move. I was paralyzed with a blind, unreasoning, sickening fear. I felt faint with nausea, and my teeth clicked together, as though I were perishing with cold. I have said before that I have no “nerves” and that ordinary perils have never ovecome me; but this was no ordinary situation, and what I had already been through paved the way to this climax of complete terror. I felt that death, sudden and painless, would be the most welcome thing that could happen. Whatever it was, stopped near me and I could hear it breathing faintly. I tried desperately to control the clacking of my teeth and the trembling of my limbs. I cursed myself for having called Olin, for the noise, no doubt, had attracted the creature’s attention. As I could see nothing, not even the faintest indication of glowing eyes, my terror-stricken mind finally grasped the fact that no beast was near me; it was probably only one of my captors. Yet, how had he found his way to me, and where had he come from. My terror died away as quickly as it had come, leaving me still trembling and faint, but with my mind alert for what might follow, no matter how strange. A RUSTLING sound close to my head and something touched me on the shoulder. It was a hand, bony, long-fingered, powerful, that seized my shoulder and pulled me up to a sitting position. “Drink!” said a voice close to my ear. “Put your hands before your face, and take the bowl that is offered you.” The voice had a peculiar rasping quality, as if the speaker were having difficulty in controlling his tongue, and the pronunciation of the words was done in a sort of guttural drawl. “What is it you offer me to drink?” I asked my unseen visitor, in the bravest voice I could muster, “and why have I been brought here?” The hand on my shoulder slowly tightened until I winced with pain. Against my lips was pressed the rim of a rough, earthen bowl filled with some cold liquid.