He was getting into the rhythm now, his heart and lungs pumping as he swung along with a stride that ate up the distance.

His lungs pumped deep and steady, and he finally saw, infinitely far in the darkness, a pinprick of light.

By the end of the trip she's dripping sweat and her lungs are pumping like a bellows.

But still the heart continuted to beat, the tortured lungs pumped air to prolong the agony.

And his pace was held down only by the amount of oxygen his limited lungs and heart could pump.

I reached Ginny and dropped on my haunches, tongue unreeled, lungs pumping.

Its lungs were pumping and it was making a series of thin, choking barks.

As long as his lungs were pumping, I held on.

My lungs were pumping regularly, not to breathe, but to smell.

He was running now as hard as he could, his lungs pumping like bellows.