Could any honest man be more tight and snug in this perilous world of the desperate and undeserving? Sard thought not. But one matter still troubled him; the lock of the pantry door had been shattered. To remedy this he moused around until he discovered some long nails and a claw-hammer. When he was ready to go to sleep he'd nail himself in. Sard chuckled again for the first time since he had set eyes upon the accursed region.
And now the sun came out from behind a low bank of solid grey cloud, and fell upon the countenance of Emanuel Sard. It warmed his parrot-nose agreeably; it cheered and enlivened him.
Not for him a night of terrors in that horrible forest which he could see through the pantry window.
A sense of security and of well-being pervaded Sard to his muddy shoes. He even curled his fat toes in them with animal contentment.
A little snack before cooking a heavily satisfactory dinner? Certainly.
So he tucked a couple of bottles of beer under one arm, a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese under the other, and waddled out to the veranda door.
At that instant the very heavens echoed with that awful tumult which had first paralysed, then crazed him in the woods.
Bottles, bread, cheese fell from his grasp and his knees nearly collapsed under him. In the bushes on the lake shore he saw animals leaping and racing, but, in his terror, he did not recognise them for dogs.
Then, suddenly, he saw a man, close to the house, running: and another man not far behind. That he understood, and it electrified him into action.
It was too late to escape from the house now. He understood that instantly.
He ran back through the dance-hall and dining-room to the pantry; but he dared not let these intruders hear the noise of hammering.
In an agony of indecision he stood trembling, listening to the infernal racket of the dogs, and waiting for the first footstep within the house.
No step came. But, chancing to look over his shoulder, he saw a man peering through the pantry window at him.
Ungovernable terror seized Sard. Scarcely aware what he was about, he seized the edges of the big drain-pipe and crowded his obese body into it head first. He was so far and heavy that he filled the tile. To start himself down he pulled with both hands and kicked himself forward, tortoise-like, down the slanting tunnel, sticking now and then, dragging himself on and downward.
Now he began to gain momentum; he felt himself sliding, not fast but steadily.