Pearl had ceased to scream and had fallen to her knees, clinging
desperately to Seagreave. Her face was blanched white with terror, and
she was muttering incoherent prayers.
As for Harry, he had forgotten her, forgotten himself, and was living
through moments or centuries, he knew not, which, of wonder and horror.
And what a sight! It was not simply a great mountain of snow slipping
thunderously down to the valleys beneath; but in its ever gathering
momentum and incredible velocity it tore great rocks from the ground and
either snapped off trees as if they had been straws, or wholly uprooted
them, and now was a fast-flying mass of snow, earth, trees and rocks
whirling and hurtling through the air.
A huge rock had, as if forcibly detaching itself, flown off from the
avalanche and buried itself in the ground only a few feet beyond Harry
and Pearl, and more than one uprooted tree lay near them. Death had
missed them by only a few paces.
Not realizing her immunity even after the air had begun to clear, and
still panic-stricken and fearful of what might still occur, Pearl
continued to moan and pray until Seagreave, who had been so dazed that
he had been almost in a state of trance, again became aware of her
presence and, partially realizing her piteous state of terror, lifted
her in his arms and, wrapping them about her, endeavored to soothe her
and allay her fears, although he had not yet sufficiently recovered
himself to know fully what he was doing, and was merely following the
instinct of protection.
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