Not a sound came to his throbbing cars.

With characteristic irrepressibility he began to swear softly, but articulately.

Proof that his profanity was mild--one might say genteel--came in an instant.

A gruff voice, startlingly near at hand, interrupted him.
"Spit it out, young feller! Swear like a man, not like a damn canary bird." Truxton tried hard to pierce the darkness, a strange thrill passing through his veins.

The hidden speaker was unquestionably an American.
"What the devil does all this mean ?" demanded the captive.