The surcingle
enveloped my limbs and body close in all directions--save in the
path of the destroying crescent.
Scarcely had I dropped my head back into its original position, when
there flashed upon my mind what I cannot better describe than as the
unformed half of that idea of deliverance to which I have previously
alluded, and of which a moiety only floated indeterminately through my
brain when I raised food to my burning lips. The whole thought was now
present --feeble, scarcely sane, scarcely definite, --but still
entire. I proceeded at once, with the nervous energy of despair, to
attempt its execution.
For many hours the immediate vicinity of the low framework upon
which I lay, had been literally swarming with rats. They were wild,
bold, ravenous; their red eyes glaring upon me as if they waited but
for motionlessness on my part to make me their prey. "To what food," I
thought, "have they been accustomed in the well?"
They had devoured, in spite of all my efforts to prevent them, all
but a small remnant of the contents of the dish. I had fallen into
an habitual see-saw, or wave of the hand about the platter: and, at
length, the unconscious uniformity of the movement deprived it of
effect.
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