TYPHON'S RAGE 57 



strained. The air we gaspingly breathed had 

 a horrible, acrid taste. 



Now and then a compensating current of 

 air streamed back under the wing of the 

 tempest that overwhelmed us, and afforded 

 relief for a space. It was only during such in- 

 tervals that we could venture to lift our eyes; 

 it was then we saw that the red-maned 

 tentacles around us were alive and writhing, 

 and we knew that on the morrow their location 

 and contours would be different from what they 

 were that morning. 



It was late in the afternoon when Typhon's 

 rage subsided and we emerged from our 

 ravaged wagon, which stood half-buried in 

 sand. The tentacle near us had stretched out 

 a feeler and grasped it to the axles. It took 

 several hours of hard digging before we were 

 able to liberate the wheels enough to admit of 

 the wagon being drawn out and taken to a 

 spot which was free from drifted sand. 



Yes, the monster had moved; his shoulders 

 were hunched at a different curve; his long 

 flank had taken on strange bends and bulges. 

 But he was once more prone after his terrific 

 but impotent uprising. Typhon slept. 



