Many of my sensations that night were too vague for
definite description and analysis, but the main feeling that will stay
with me to the end of my days is the awful horror of it all, and the
miserable sensation that if the strain had lasted a little longer than
was actually the case my mind must inevitably have given way.
Meanwhile I stood still in my corner, and waited patiently for what was
to come. The house was as still as the grave, but the inarticulate
voices of the night sang in my ears, and I seemed to hear the blood
running in my veins and dancing in my pulses.
If the Indians came to the back of the house, they would find the
kitchen door and window securely fastened. They could not get in there
without making considerable noise, which I was bound to hear. The only
mode of getting in was by means of the door that faced me, and I kept my
eyes glued on that door without taking them off for the smallest
fraction of a second.
My sight adapted itself every minute better to the darkness. I saw the
table that nearly filled the room, and left only a narrow passage on
each side.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61