THE OGRE. 229 



this was his way of going to sleep ; and now or never, thought 

 I, I must make a trial to escape. I examined the bank above 

 my head, and seeing on its smooth surface a piece of project- 

 ing stone, fixed, apparently, like that which was supporting 

 me, I set foot on the steep ascent with a view to grasp it, but 

 on my first step a mass of dislodged sand fell rolling down- 

 wards. How I shuddered lest the Ogre should be roused! 

 and so, in truth, he was that is, if he had ever been asleep 

 for instantly rising to meet the stream of sand descending came 

 a volley of the same, thrown up, seemingly by the tossing of 

 the monster's broad flat head, as he still kept wallowing in his 

 soft bed at bottom of the den. I was almost blinded, and 

 thrown nearly off my station, but I contrived to keep it, and 

 in a short time all was again clear and quiet, and nothing but 

 those terrible tusks above the sand showed sign of a living 

 thing in the cavern, except my poor trembling little self. 



" If the Ogre's sleep was real, perhaps he had resumed it ; 

 but whether or no, I dared not again to set foot on the loose 

 surface of my prison-wall, but kept crouching on my ledge of 

 stone, till I grew as cold as it, and wished myself as senseless, 

 that I might not hear, as every moment I expected, another 

 stir below me, and feel myself being pelted down into the 

 monster's clutches. But hours, seeming weeks, went on, and 

 the Ogre remained still as death, till, as I supposed by the 

 increased obscurity of the cavern, the sun had set. Then, sud- 

 denly, it grew darker still ; I heard a distant roll of thunder, 



