I saw it through a veil that hung before my eyes like the gauze
drop-curtain used at the back of a theater—hazily a little. It was
neither a human figure nor an animal. To me it gave the strange
impression of being as large as several animals grouped together, like
horses, two or three, moving slowly. The Swede, too, got a similar
result, though expressing it differently, for he thought it was shaped
and sized like a clump of willow bushes, rounded at the top, and moving
all over upon its surface—“coiling upon itself like smoke,” he said
afterwards.
“I watched it settle downwards through the bushes,” he sobbed at me.
“Look, by God! It’s coming this way! Oh, oh!”—he gave a kind of
whistling cry. “_They’ve found us._”
I gave one terrified glance, which just enabled me to see that the
shadowy form was swinging towards us through the bushes, and then I
collapsed backwards with a crash into the branches. These failed, of
course, to support my weight, so that with the Swede on top of me we
fell in a struggling heap upon the sand. I really hardly knew what was
happening. I was conscious only of a sort of enveloping sensation of
icy fear that plucked the nerves out of their fleshly covering, twisted
them this way and that, and replaced them quivering. My eyes were
tightly shut; something in my throat choked me; a feeling that my
consciousness was expanding, extending out into space, swiftly gave way
to another feeling that I was losing it altogether, and about to die.
An acute spasm of pain passed through me, and I was aware that the
Swede had hold of me in such a way that he hurt me abominably. It was
the way he caught at me in falling.
But it was the pain, he declared afterwards, that saved me; it caused
me to _forget them_ and think of something else at the very instant
when they were about to find me. It concealed my mind from them at the
moment of discovery, yet just in time to evade their terrible seizing
of me. He himself, he says, actually swooned at the same moment, and
that was what saved him.
I only know that at a later date, how long or short is impossible to
say, I found myself scrambling up out of the slippery network of willow
branches, and saw my companion standing in front of me holding out a
hand to assist me. I stared at him in a dazed way, rubbing the arm he
had twisted for me. Nothing came to me to say, somehow.
“I lost consciousness for a moment or two,” I heard him say. “That’s
what saved me. It made me stop thinking about them.”
“You nearly broke my arm in two,” I said, uttering my only connected
thought at the moment. A numbness came over me.
“That’s what saved _you!_” he replied. “Between us, we’ve managed to
set them off on a false tack somewhere. The humming has ceased. It’s
gone—for the moment at any rate!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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