"Yes; and I hope you'll take ample vengeance upon him," said Quilt. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. “Get me someone, Oracle. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. “I think that it is only an idea.
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