23/25 He springs to land--I watch him with a weird fascination. He passes the alligators--he seems not to be aware of their presence--he comes with swift, unhesitating step to ME--it is I whom he seeks--it is in MY heart that he plunges the cold steel dagger, and draws it out again dripping with blood! Once--twice--thrice!--and yet I cannot die! I writhe--I moan in bitter anguish! Then something dark comes between me and the glaring sun--something cool and shadowy, against which I fling myself despairingly. Two dark eyes look steadily into mine, and a voice speaks: "Be calm, my son, be calm. Commend thyself to Christ!" It is my friend the monk. |