The Hobbit

doesn’t say what it means. It won’t say what it’s got in its pocketses. It knows. It knows a way in, it must know a way out, yes. It’s off to the back-door. To the back-door, that’s it.”
    “The goblinses will catch it then. It can’t get out that way, precious.”
    “Ssss, sss, gollum! Goblinses! Yes, but if it’s got the present, our precious present, then goblinses will get it, gollum!
     They’ll find it, they’ll find out what it does. We shan’t ever be safe again, never, gollum! One of the goblinses will put
     it on, and then no one will see him. He’ll be there but not seen. Not even our clever eyeses will notice him; and he’ll come
     creepsy and tricksy and catch us, gollum, gollum!”
    “Then let’s stop talking, precious, and make haste. If the Baggins has gone that way, we must go quick and see. Go! Not far
     now. Make haste!”
    With a spring Gollum got up and started shambling off at a great pace. Bilbo hurried after him, still cautiously, though his
     chief fear now was of tripping on another snag and falling with a noise. His head was in a whirl of hope and wonder. It seemed
     that the ring he had was a magic ring: it made you invisible! He had heard of such things, of course, in old old tales; but
     it was hard to believe that he really had found one, by accident. Still there it was: Gollum with his bright eyes had passed
     him by, only a yard to one side.
    On they went, Gollum flip-flapping ahead, hissing and cursing; Bilbo behind going as softly as a hobbit can. Soon they came
     to places where, as Bilbo had noticed on the way down, side-passages opened, this way and that. Gollum began at once to count
     them.
    “One left, yes. One right, yes. Two right, yes, yes. Two left, yes, yes.” And so on and on.
    As the count grew he slowed down, and he began to get shaky and weepy; for he was leaving the water further and further behind,
     and he was getting afraid. Goblins might be about, and he had lost his ring. At last he stopped by a low opening, on their
     left as they went up.
    “Seven right, yes. Six left, yes!” he whispered. “This is it. This is the way to the back-door, yes. Here’s the passage!”
    He peered in, and shrank back. “But we dursn’t go in, precious, no we dursn’t. Goblinses down there. Lots of goblinses. We
     smells them. Ssss!”
    “What shall we do? Curse them and crush them! We must wait here, precious, wait a bit and see.”
    So they came to a dead stop. Gollum had brought Bilbo to the way out after all, but Bilbo could not get in! There was Gollum
     sitting humped up right in the opening, and his eyes gleamed cold in his head, as he swayed it from side to side between his
     knees.
    Bilbo crept away from the wall more quietly than a mouse; but Gollum stiffened at once, and sniffed, and his eyes went green.
     He hissed softly but menacingly. He could not see the hobbit, but now he was on the alert, and he had other senses that the
     darkness had sharpened: hearing and smell. He seemed to be crouched right down with his flat hands splayed on the floor, and
     his head thrust out, nose almost to the stone. Though he was only a black shadow in the gleam of his own eyes, Bilbo could
     see or feel that he was tense as a bowstring, gathered for a spring.
    Bilbo almost stopped breathing, and went stiff himself. He was desperate. He must get away, out of this horrible darkness,
     while he had any strength left. He must fight. He must stab the foul thing, put its eyes out, kill it. It meant to kill him. No, not a fair fight. He
     was invisible now. Gollum had no sword. Gollum had not actually threatened to kill him, or tried to yet. And he was miserable,
     alone, lost. A sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo’s heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days
     without light or hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. All these thoughts passed in a flash
     of a second. He trembled. And then quite suddenly in another flash, as if lifted by a new strength and resolve, he leaped.
    No great leap for a man, but a leap in the dark. Straight over Gollum’s head he jumped, seven feet forward and three in the
     air; indeed, had he known it, he only just missed cracking his skull on the low arch of the passage.
    Gollum threw himself backwards, and grabbed as the hobbit flew over him, but too late: his hands snapped on thin air, and
     Bilbo, falling fair on his sturdy feet, sped off down the new tunnel. He did not