It was ugly and grim; the trampled grass, the giant footmarks, each enringing its pool of curdled blood; the broken bushes, the grooved mud-slides where the unknown brutes had slid in deadly embrace; the hollows, the splintered boughs, their ragged points tufted with skin and hair--all was sickening to me.

Yet so hungry was I that when I turned towards the odious remnants of the vanquished--a shapeless mass of abomination--my thoughts flew at once to breakfasting! I went down and inspected the victim cautiously--a huge rat-like beast as far as might be judged from the bare uprising ribs--all that was left of him looking like the framework of a schooner yacht.

His heart lay amongst the offal, and my knife came out to cut a meal from it, but I could not do it.

Three times I essayed the task, hunger and disgust contending for mastery; three times turned back in loathing.

At last I could stand the sight no more, and, slamming the knife up again, turned on my heels, and fairly ran for fresh air and the shore, where the sea was beginning to glimmer in the light a few score yards through the forest stems.