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Updated: May 7, 2025
Half out of the cab I could see Rooum's mottled hair and beard. His brow was ribbed like a gridiron, and as he ripped past one of the arcs his face shone like porcelain with the sweat that bathed it. "Now ... you!... Now, damn you!..." he was shouting. "Get ready to board him when he reverses!" I shouted to Hopkins. Just how we scrambled on I don't know.
And if you can swallow that, it's a relatively small matter whether Rooum's light-footed Familiar slipped through him unperceived, or had to struggle through obstinately. You see now why I said that "a queer thing overtook Rooum." More: I saw it. This thing, that outrages reason I saw it happen.
Rooum put the brakes down and reversed; again came the thud of the fall-blocks; and we were speeding back again over the gulf of misty orange light. The stagings were thronged with gaping men. "Ready? Now!" I cried to Hopkins; and we sprang into the cab. Hopkins hit Rooum's wrist with a spanner. Then he seized the lever, jammed the brake down and tripped Rooum, all, as it seemed, in one movement.
And for the colour of his face when by-and-by I glanced at it ... well, I once saw a swarthy Italian fall under a sunstroke, and his face was much the same colour that Rooum's negro face had gone; a cloudy, whitish green. "Well you've seen it what do you think of it?" he gasped presently, turning a ghastly grin on me. But it was night before the full horror of it had soaked into me.
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