The indescribably fearful effluvium fairly choked him. He felt dizzy and faint. The lunatic, still crouching at the other side, made no aggressive movement, merely staring with lack-lustre eyes at the new arrival. Keeping his eye upon him, Eustace took advantage of this welcome truce to feel for his flask and counteract his fast overpowering nausea with a timely pull. "Tom," he said, in a most persuasive tone, approaching the wretched being. "Tom--you know me, don't you?" Then an awful change came into the maniac's countenance. His eyes glared through the tangle of his matted hair; the great bushy beard began to bristle and quiver with rage. He rose to his feet and, opening his mouth, emitted that same horrible howl. Those above held their breath. Well for Eustace was it that he never quailed. Standing there in the middle of the pit--at the mercy of this furious lunatic--he moved not a muscle. But his eyes held those of the demoniac with a piercing and steady gaze. The crisis was past. Whimpering like a child, the wretched creature sank to the ground, again covering his face with his hands. This was good enough as a first triumph, but the maniac had to be coaxed round to the other side of the hole. Eustace dared not remove his glance, even for the fraction of a second. His foot struck against something, which yielded suddenly and started away hissing. His pulses stood still with horror, yet he knew better than to remove his eyes from his unhappy kinsman. "Come, Tom," he said coaxingly, advancing a couple of steps. "Get up, man, and go and sit over there." With an affrighted cry, the other edged away round the wall of his prison, bringing himself much nearer the point where it was intended he should be brought. He cowered, with face averted, moaning like an animal in pain. Not to overdo the thing, Eustace waited a moment, then advanced a step or two nearer. It had the desired effect. The madman shuffled away as before. He must be in the right place now. Still Eustace dared not look up. "He's all right now, if you're ready," whispered a voice from above. "Ready!" was the quick reply. Something dropped. The madman's head and shoulders disappeared under the voluminous folds of old Josane's red blanket. Quick as lightning Eustace had sprung to his side and whipped the running noose round him. "_Trek_!" he cried, with an energy sufficient to start a dozen spans of oxen. The body of Tom Carhayes swung into the air. Kicking, struggling, howling, he disappeared over the brink above. Eustace, alone at the bottom of the pit, could hear the sounds of a furious scuffle--sounds, too, which seemed to be receding as though into distance. What did it all mean? They seemed a long time securing the maniac.