There he lay under the huge bulk of the gorilla, just his nose and mouth appearing between the brute's body and its arm.

Had it not been for the soft cushion of wet moss in which he reclined, I think that he would have been crushed flat.
We rolled the creature off him somehow and poured a little brandy down his throat, which had a wonderful effect, for in less than a minute he sat up, grasping like a dying fish, and asked for more.
Leaving Brother John to examine Hans to see if he was really injured, I bethought me of poor Jerry and went to look at him.

One glance was enough.

He was quite dead.

Indeed, he seemed to be crushed out of shape like a buck that has been enveloped in the coils of a boa-constrictor.
Brother John told me afterwards that both his arms and nearly all his ribs had been broken in that terrible embrace.