The strength of this man seemed to increase. It was limitless.
His breath came struggling under that pressure and the blood thundered
and raged in his temples. If he could only get at that soft throat!
But his struggling right hand was held in a vice of iron. Now his numb
arm gave way, slowly, inevitably. He ground his teeth and cursed. His
curse was half a prayer. For answer there was the unearthly chuckle
just below his ear. His hand was moved back, down, around! He was
helpless as a child in the arms of its father--no, helpless as a sheep
in the constricting coils of a python.
An impulse of frantic horror and shame and fear gave him redoubled
strength for an instant. He tore himself clear and reeled back. Dan
planted two smashes on Silent's snarling mouth. A glance showed the
large man the mute, strained faces around the room. The laughing devil
leaped again. Then all pride slipped like water from the heart of Jim
Silent, and in its place there was only icy fear, fear not of a man,
but of animal power. He caught up a heavy chair and drove it with all
his desperate strength at Dan.
It cracked distinctly against his head and the weight of it fairly
drove him into the floor.
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