I was falling⁠—falling⁠—with the Russian’s hand strangling me. I struck water, sank; the hands that gripped my throat relaxed for a moment their clutch. I strove to writhe loose; felt that I was being hurled with dreadful speed on⁠—full realization came⁠—on the breast of that racing torrent dropping from some far ocean cleft and rushing⁠—where? A little time, a few breathless instants, I struggled with the devil who clutched me⁠—inflexibly, indomitably.

Then a shrieking as of all the pent winds of the universe in my ears⁠—blackness!

Consciousness returned slowly, agonizedly.

“Larry!” I groaned. “Lakla!”

A brilliant light was glowing through my closed lids. It hurt. I opened my eyes, closed them with swords and needles of dazzling pain shooting through them. Again I opened them cautiously. It was the sun!