when at school, and had learned to recite for his father. He found himself
repeating them, and there was no doubt that he realized more vividly than
do boys generally of his age the meaning of the author:

"The world was void:
The populous and powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless;
A lump of death, a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean, all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths."

Such fancies as these were not calculated to make him feel particularly
comfortable while carrying the torch. Such a person in such a situation
makes an especially inviting target of himself, and, although Fred dreaded
to see it burn itself out, when the chances were that he was likely to be
in sore need of the same, yet he had wrought himself up to such a pitch
that he more than once meditated extinguishing it altogether, with the
purpose of putting himself on an equality with those of his enemies who
might be prowling in the night around him.

"I wonder whether Mickey would be more likely to hear my pistol than a
shout or whistle?" he said, as he drew the weapon from his belt and held
it up to inspect it in the light of the flaring torch. "It seems to be all
right, although there's no telling how long since it has been loaded. Here
goes."

With this, he pointed the muzzle toward the cavern and pulled the trigger.

The response was as prompt as though he had charged the chamber but a
short time before, proving not only that the weapon was of the best