Having tried the north, south, and east sides of the plain I now went for the west; that is to say, towards the dry river bed I have already mentioned. By the time I reached it I was completely done for, and the shock of discovering at least a sixty-foot jump on to the big stones at the bottom did not give me any additional strength. To jump would mean almost certain mutilation, and possibly, if not probably, a long lingering death; while to remain where I was, and be caught by my horrible pursuer, who had now hemmed me in and had got me at his mercy, meant certain death. There was one consolation, however; in those great arms—death, if it would be nothing else, would be swift. I stood on the very edge of the precipice, revolving these two fates in my mind, and every moment my assailant was coming nearer. There was no hope for it now, so I closed my eyes and waited. As I did so, I could bear the thud-thud of his steps drawing closer. I almost felt the arms entwine me. Then a voice I should have recognized in the roar of battle or in the silence of the grave called to me frantically, "Spring to your right!" As if by instinct I sprang, and, at the very second that I did so, I heard the great loathsome beast go by me. Even at that moment, when life and death trembled in the balance, my curiosity got the upper hand and I opened my eyes and looked.
A wonderful sight it was that I beheld. On the edge of the ravine, swaying to and fro to recover his balance, stood the orang-outang, and at his feet, crouched ready for a spring, was the bulldog Beelzebub, his teeth bared,and his whole body quivering with rage. A second later he leapt into the air, and then a desperate battle
