He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. Very doubtful. The dog-fox cannot be far off, since the cub is found. You'll be wasting his time. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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