His hair was erect, and his mouth half open, and drawn back; while the perspiration poured from him in torrents.

His hands were spread, and held up, with their palms outwards, as if in the act of pushing something back that seemed to approach him.

"Help," he shouted, "he is comin' on me--he will have me powerless in a minute.

He is gaspin' now, as he--Stay back, stay back--here--here, help; it's the murdhered man--he's upon me.

Oh!--Oh, God! he's comin' nearer and nearer.