Still as death he lay waiting, wondering why the fearsome brute
did not at once attack him, instead of hovering there in mid-air. His
curiosity was quickly satisfied.
Like a flash a second vampire swooped into view and hurled itself
upon Wilson’s ghoulish guardian. In an instant the twain were fighting
tooth and nail, their mighty wings raising a deafening clamour.
Not a move dared the lad make, fearing that the great bats might
unite forces against him did they see him stirring. Round and round
the brutes circled, rocking, reeling in their frenzied efforts to
destroy each other. Now they sank until they were whirling but a few
feet above Wilson’s head; anon, they would soar into the gloom far
beyond his sight.
For an hour the duel raged, the creatures’ efforts growing
feebler as the time went on, while the crimson rain which sprinkled
down over the engineer bore grim testimony to the sanguinary nature of
the struggle.
Suddenly, with a shrill scream, one of the vampires pitched
heavily earthward. Its adversary swayed unsteadily for a moment, then
fluttered to the ground beside it.
In a second Tom was upon his feet. Knife in hand, he moved
towards his foes. One was already dead, and the other, too exhausted
to move and bleeding from a score of wounds, fell an easy prey to the
engineer’s weapon.
Feeling deeply thankful for his escape from a terrible death, the
lad stood looking down on the carcases for a few moments; then,
striding forward over the moss, he plunged through the encircling
fungi. As he emerged from the glistening growths a startled cry
escaped him.
The ground before him was thickly covered with bones!
At the sight of the ghastly relics his already overstrained
nerves almost gave way, but, exerting all his self-control, he pulled
himself together and strode down the valley, hoping ere long to regain
the coast.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE SINKING POOL.
FOR some time Wilson plodded on, his one idea being to escape from the
ghostly valley. The weirdness of the place, enclosed as it was on every
side by towering cliffs, its unnatural stillness, and, above all, the
grim remains with which the ground was littered, sent an uncanny thrill
through the engineer; and, despite his resolution, he found himself
continually glancing backward, to make certain that no spectral form
was dogging his steps.
All unconsciously he was moving in exactly the opposite direction
to that he wished to take, straying farther at each step into the
interior of the underworld. The valley seemed to be endless, and the
lonely traveller grew tired after awhile of the eternal monotony of
the scene around. More, he grew afraid; afraid that he would never
find his way out of these ghostly wilds, where reigned an everlasting
silence--afraid that he would never again see the _Seal_ or
the comrade from whom he had been snatched so suddenly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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