An instant he hung suspended from the
waist; then he appeared to let go limply as all resistance went
out of his big body. There came a warning rattle of dirt and
mortar and pebbles; the next instant he slipped into the well and
plunged headlong down upon O'Reilly, an avalanche of lifeless
flesh.
Johnnie shielded himself with his up-flung arms, but he was driven
to his knees, and when he scrambled to his feet, half stunned, it
was to find himself in utter darkness. There was a heavy weight
against his legs. With a strength born of horror and revulsion he
freed himself; then hearing no sound and feeling no movement, he
fumbled for the candle and with clumsy fingers managed to relight
it. Even after the flame had leaped out and he saw what shared the
pit with him he could barely credit his senses. The nature of his
deliverance was uncanny, supernatural--it left him dazed. He had
beheld death stamped upon Cobo's writhing face even while the
fellow braced himself to keep from falling, but what force had
effected the phenomenon, what unseen hand had stricken him,
Johnnie was at a loss to comprehend. It seemed a miracle, indeed,
until he looked closer. Then he understood. Cobo lay in a
formless, boneless heap; he seemed to be all arms and legs; his
face was hidden, but between his shoulders there protruded the
crude wooden handle of a home-made knife to which a loop of cord
was tied.
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