At the Eleventh Hour
here, where I'm pulling. Did you catch it on a nail?"
Deane drew his breath in sharply.
"There—is one, then?" he said in an odd voice. "No, I did not catch it on any nail."
Merritt turned to look at him.
"What's up?" he demanded.
But Deane, without noticing his question, began to speak rapidly, in the same tense voice.
"Then I believe anything—everything. I believe that the men are right. I believe the place is cursed. I believe that Bob and the Arabs were decoyed and trapped by unhuman powers. I've scoffed and sneered, but now I will believe anything this land can show me. I'm beaten—done up. I don't
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