And so I
swam slowly on, waiting for my head to touch the top of the corridor,
which would mean that I had reached the limit of my flight and the
point where I must sink for ever to an unmarked grave.
But to my surprise I ran against a blank wall before I reached a
point where the waters came to the roof of the corridor. Could I
be mistaken? I felt around. No, I had come to the main corridor,
and still there was a breathing space between the surface of the
water and the rocky ceiling above. And then I turned up the main
corridor in the direction that Carthoris and the head of the column
had passed a half-hour before. On and on I swam, my heart growing
lighter at every stroke, for I knew that I was approaching closer
and closer to the point where there would be no chance that the
waters ahead could be deeper than they were about me. I was positive
that I must soon feel the solid floor beneath my feet again and
that once more my chance would come to reach the Temple of Issus
and the side of the fair prisoner who languished there.
But even as hope was at its highest I felt the sudden shock of
contact as my head struck the rocks above. The worst, then, had
come to me. I had reached one of those rare places where a Martian
tunnel dips suddenly to a lower level. Somewhere beyond I knew
that it rose again, but of what value was that to me, since I did
not know how great the distance that it maintained a level entirely
beneath the surface of the water!
There was but a single forlorn hope, and I took it.
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