But youth and the undying desire for life and accomplishment won over
this deadly mood and he began to take note of his position. His mind
became clearer and the ringing in his ears, caused by the explosion,
gradually passed away.
Then, like a flash, the question entered his mind of how he was able,
buried under tons of debris, to breathe so freely. Why was the air not
vitiated?
He tried to move slowly and quietly so as not to dislodge any of the
rocks that formed an arch over his body. He succeeded beyond his
expectations, for his body was in a sort of natural pocket and not one
of his limbs was inextricably bound. Thus, twisting his body, he managed
to draw himself into what seemed to be an even more open space.
He hardly dared to breathe, so fearful was he that any moment he might
reach a point where further progress would be impossible. He moved
slowly, gropingly, then suddenly he recoiled in horror, for his hand had
come in contact with something which he recognized to be a man's face.
In his shaken condition it was some seconds before he could control the
wild jangling of his nerves. Then he searched his pockets and, finding a
match, lighted it.
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