Page 507 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

It was McNab, who, seeing Rex’s retreat, had daringly
followed him. John Rex drew from his breast Troke’s pistol
and waited.
‘Surrender!’ cried the voice again, and the footsteps ad-
vanced two paces.
At the instant that Rex raised the weapon to fire, a vivid
flash of lightning showed him, on his right hand, on the
ghastly and pallid ocean, two boats, the hindermost one ap-
parently within a few yards of him. The men looked like
corpses. In the distance rose Cape Surville, and beneath
Cape Surville was the hungry sea. The scene vanished in an
instant—swallowed up almost before he had realized it. But
the shock it gave him made him miss his aim, and, flinging
away the pistol with a curse, he turned down the path and
fled. McNab followed.
The path had been made by frequent passage from the
station, and Rex found it tolerably easy running. He had
acquired—like most men who live much in the dark—that
cat-like perception of obstacles which is due rather to in-
creased sensitiveness of touch than increased acuteness of
vision. His feet accommodated themselves to the inequal-
ities of the ground; his hands instinctively outstretched
themselves towards the overhanging boughs; his head
ducked of its own accord to any obtrusive sapling which
bent to obstruct his progress. His pursuer was not so for-
tunate. Twice did John Rex laugh mentally, at a crash and
scramble that told of a fall, and once—in a valley where
trickled a little stream that he had cleared almost without
an effort— he heard a splash that made him laugh outright.

0 For the Term of His Natural Life