At last he stumbled.

Throwing out an arm to protect himself, he came heavily down upon the ooze, striking a dull, half-elastic root that seemed--it must have been another delusion--to move beneath him, and even--so confused were his senses now--to strike back angrily upon his prostrate arm.

A sharp pain ran from his elbow to shoulder and for a moment stung him to full consciousness again.

There were voices surely,--the voices of their former pursuers! If they were seeking to revenge themselves upon him for Cato's escape, he was ready for them.

He cocked his revolver and stood erect.