Summary

Portrait of David Franklin Powell David Franklin Powell The Wolf-Men: A Tale of Amazing Adventure in the Under-World (1906)

Again it came, low as before, reverberating amid the hills like the roll of many drums.
“I don’t like it,” the scientist muttered, as Garth and the engineer joined him; “have you noticed how remarkably still the water has grown during the last few hours? See how gently the waves come in; there is scarcely more motion than on a mill-pond.”
“What do you infer from that?” asked Garth.
“That we are about to witness some phenomenon peculiar to this underworld,” replied Mervyn. “What form it will take I do not know, but I heartily wish Seymour and the king were back.”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of David Franklin Powell David Franklin Powell The Wolf-Men: A Tale of Amazing Adventure in the Under-World (1906)

But it was not upon this magnificent creature that the gaze of the savages was fixed.
No: for astride the elk rode a man taller than any of the sons of earth, and his form was as that of a god. A battle-axe flashed in his right hand, and at his back swung a great embossed shield. This latter he unslung as he came on.
Checking his giant steed at the end of the bridge by the pressure of his knee, he sprang to earth and hurled himself upon the wolf-men. Like a thing of life his great axe whirred and hissed, and before it the savages fell as grain before the sickle.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of David Franklin Powell David Franklin Powell The Wolf-Men: A Tale of Amazing Adventure in the Under-World (1906)

Even the cool-blooded American succumbed to the rapture of the moment. Hope surged high within them all.
The Ayuti alone was grave and preoccupied. The hours he had spent with these new comrades had been pleasant enough, but he knew that they longed to return to their own world. They could not be happy in the gloom of the underworld. They were children of the light, and Ramouni, the sun god, was calling them back to bask once more in his bright rays; and he, Chenobi, must return to his life of solitude, to range the jungles till death came to him.
Source: Gutenberg

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