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Updated: May 2, 2025
I grew dizzy with semi-asphyxiation, and my heart thumped until it seemed surely it would burst the canvas that bound me. Again I lost control of myself and set up a mad howling for help. In the midst of this I heard a voice from the next dungeon. "Shut up," it shouted, though only faintly it percolated to me. "Shut up. You make me tired." "I'm dying," I cried out.
They left their packs just inside the door of the log-cabin, indicated as "Bunk House for the men on No. 6, Above" a fearsome place, where, on shelf above shelf, among long unwashed bedclothes, the unwashed workmen of a prosperous company lay in the stupor of sore fatigue and semi-asphyxiation.
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