mean, the leg turned into pulp. That was all."
I closed my eyes and took in a breath. I was glad that grip had not fallen on my leg, for one thing, I can tell you!
I heard Clonmel say: "I'm going to get out of this. So are you. I'm not going to die in here. I'm not ready to be slaughtered in a meat-house like this."
I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
He came over to me and asked me what sort of cords had been used on my hands. I told him that cords had not been used, but rope that was almost half an inch thick.
"That's not thick enough, then," said he. "Twine might have held us, but not that pulpy stuff. Lie down flat on your face."
I did as he said, and he got down beside me and found the rope that bound my wrists together. He began to tear at the rope with his teeth. It put a shudder in me—the strength of his jaws and the strange feeling, as though a beast were at work. Sometimes, as he wrenched at the cords, the strength of his pull lifted almost my entire weight. And I could hear the popping sounds as he got his grip under strand after strand of the rope and parted it. It might have been half an hour before the rope actually parted.
I've told that to other people who would hardly believe it, but then not many of them had ever seen Clonmel. At any rate, there I was, with free hands, and though I didn't see what particular good free hands would do us, I found the knots that secured the ropes of Clonmel and undid them. That took only a few minutes more. He stood up, and I heard the swishing sound as he swung his arms.
"The roof!" he said to me. "If there's half a chance, I may be able to pry a log out of the roof."
I put myself against the wall, over in a corner, where I was sure that a beam ran overhead. Clonmel climbed on me. The bulk of him nearly smashed my bones, I can tell you, till he stood up on my shoulders and I heard him murmur that he had it.
Then he pulled himself up. After a time, I could hear faint, squeaking sounds.
Just over me his murmur said: "Come up here. Give me your hand and come up. The two of us may be able to wangle it!"
I found his hand, and he lifted me up easily. Yes, with the strength of one hand, he shifted my weight easily. I thought his grip was breaking the bones of my fingers. It was like the pressure of a mechanical device with the power of a machine behind it.
I climbed onto the rafter. He told me where to stand in the corner and what log to lift on, while he went down to the farther end of the beam and heaved at that section of the same log.
When he gave the signal, by hissing softly, I fell to work, but my efforts were not what put the shudder in the log my shoulder was against or the beam that was under my feet.
I might have guessed what followed, for, though that beam must have been at least three by four, it snapped suddenly at the farther end. I went down and rolled my length along the floor, and I heard big Clonmel bump not far away from me.
The door snapped open. Lights came in. Those fellows paid little attention to me. One man simply backed me into a corner with his gun, but five or six of them piled on Clonmel. Even then they had a terrific job of it until someone managed to slip the noose of a rope over his arms. After that they were able to hold him and lash him, while the noise of his breathing sounded like that of a bull. Right through the trampling, panting, and cursing, I could hear the labor of his lungs, while they rolled him in enough ropes to have compressed a bale of hay.
They tied me up again, too. Will Cary had charge of the entire job, and he did a good one, you can be sure.
When we were tied up, and when wires had been used to make sure what ropes apparently were not able to accomplish, Will Cary stood over Clonmel where the giant was stretched on the floor, unable to stir.
"I've got you—and I've got her!" said Will Cary.
I wondered, for a moment, what he was talking about, and then I heard Clonmel laugh.
"You haven't got her," he
I closed my eyes and took in a breath. I was glad that grip had not fallen on my leg, for one thing, I can tell you!
I heard Clonmel say: "I'm going to get out of this. So are you. I'm not going to die in here. I'm not ready to be slaughtered in a meat-house like this."
I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
He came over to me and asked me what sort of cords had been used on my hands. I told him that cords had not been used, but rope that was almost half an inch thick.
"That's not thick enough, then," said he. "Twine might have held us, but not that pulpy stuff. Lie down flat on your face."
I did as he said, and he got down beside me and found the rope that bound my wrists together. He began to tear at the rope with his teeth. It put a shudder in me—the strength of his jaws and the strange feeling, as though a beast were at work. Sometimes, as he wrenched at the cords, the strength of his pull lifted almost my entire weight. And I could hear the popping sounds as he got his grip under strand after strand of the rope and parted it. It might have been half an hour before the rope actually parted.
I've told that to other people who would hardly believe it, but then not many of them had ever seen Clonmel. At any rate, there I was, with free hands, and though I didn't see what particular good free hands would do us, I found the knots that secured the ropes of Clonmel and undid them. That took only a few minutes more. He stood up, and I heard the swishing sound as he swung his arms.
"The roof!" he said to me. "If there's half a chance, I may be able to pry a log out of the roof."
I put myself against the wall, over in a corner, where I was sure that a beam ran overhead. Clonmel climbed on me. The bulk of him nearly smashed my bones, I can tell you, till he stood up on my shoulders and I heard him murmur that he had it.
Then he pulled himself up. After a time, I could hear faint, squeaking sounds.
Just over me his murmur said: "Come up here. Give me your hand and come up. The two of us may be able to wangle it!"
I found his hand, and he lifted me up easily. Yes, with the strength of one hand, he shifted my weight easily. I thought his grip was breaking the bones of my fingers. It was like the pressure of a mechanical device with the power of a machine behind it.
I climbed onto the rafter. He told me where to stand in the corner and what log to lift on, while he went down to the farther end of the beam and heaved at that section of the same log.
When he gave the signal, by hissing softly, I fell to work, but my efforts were not what put the shudder in the log my shoulder was against or the beam that was under my feet.
I might have guessed what followed, for, though that beam must have been at least three by four, it snapped suddenly at the farther end. I went down and rolled my length along the floor, and I heard big Clonmel bump not far away from me.
The door snapped open. Lights came in. Those fellows paid little attention to me. One man simply backed me into a corner with his gun, but five or six of them piled on Clonmel. Even then they had a terrific job of it until someone managed to slip the noose of a rope over his arms. After that they were able to hold him and lash him, while the noise of his breathing sounded like that of a bull. Right through the trampling, panting, and cursing, I could hear the labor of his lungs, while they rolled him in enough ropes to have compressed a bale of hay.
They tied me up again, too. Will Cary had charge of the entire job, and he did a good one, you can be sure.
When we were tied up, and when wires had been used to make sure what ropes apparently were not able to accomplish, Will Cary stood over Clonmel where the giant was stretched on the floor, unable to stir.
"I've got you—and I've got her!" said Will Cary.
I wondered, for a moment, what he was talking about, and then I heard Clonmel laugh.
"You haven't got her," he
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