She trusted in her shoes: they were of granite - hollowed like
French sabots. Curdie would have endured much rather than hurt a
woman, even if she was a goblin; but here was an affair of life and
death: forgetting her shoes, he made a great stamp on one of her
feet. But she instantly returned it with very different effect,
causing him frightful pain, and almost disabling him. His only
chance with her would have been to attack the granite shoes with
his pickaxe, but before he could think of that she had caught him
up in her arms and was rushing with him across the cave. She
dashed him into a hole in the wall, with a force that almost
stunned him. But although he could not move, he was not too far
gone to hear her great cry, and the rush of multitudes of soft
feet, followed by the sounds of something heaved up against the
rock; after which came a multitudinous patter of stones falling
near him. The last had not ceased when he grew very faint, for his
head had been badly cut, and at last insensible.
When he came to himself there was perfect silence about him, and
utter darkness, but for the merest glimmer in one tiny spot.
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