The Crying of the Man.

           AsIdrewnearthehouseIsawthatthelightshonefromtheopendoorofmyroom;andthenIheardcomingfromoutofthedarknessatthesideofthatorangeoblongoflight,thevoiceofMontgomeryshouting,"Prendick!"Icontinuedrunning.PresentlyIheardhimagain.Irepliedbyafeeble"Hullo!"andinanothermomenthadstaggereduptohim.

           "Wherehaveyoubeen?"saidhe,holdingmeatarm’slength,sothatthelightfromthedoorfellonmyface."Wehavebothbeensobusythatweforgotyouuntilabouthalfanhourago."Heledmeintotheroomandsetmedowninthedeckchair.ForawhileIwasblindedbythelight."Wedidnotthinkyouwouldstarttoexplorethisislandofourswithouttellingus,"hesaid;andthen,"Iwasafraid—But—what—Hullo!"

           Mylastremainingstrengthslippedfromme,andmyheadfellforwardonmychest.Ithinkhefoundacertainsatisfactioningivingmebrandy.

           "ForGod’ssake,"saidI,"fastenthatdoor."

           "You’vebeenmeetingsomeofourcuriosities,eh?"saidhe.

           Helockedthedoorandturnedtomeagain.Heaskedmenoquestions,butgavemesomemorebrandyandwaterandpressedmetoeat.Iwasinastateofcollapse.Hesaidsomethingvagueabouthisforgettingtowarnme,andaskedmebrieflywhenIleftthehouseandwhatIhadseen.

           Iansweredhimasbriefly,infragmentarysentences.