the influence of the fire heat, the very
recess, exactly in his shape in every detail, whence he had stood
gazing into vacuity all those years. I left go my hold, and after the
flutter in my heart had gone down, apologetically set him up against
the wall of the cavern whence he had fallen; then built up the fire
until twirling flames danced to the very roof in the blue light of
dawn, and hobgoblin shadows leapt and capered about us. Then once more
I sat down on the opposite side of the blaze, resting my chin upon my
hands, and stared into the frozen eyes of that grim stranger, who, with
his chin upon his knees, stared back at me with irresistible,
remorseless steadfastness.

He was as fresh as if he had died but yesterday, yet by his clothing
and something in his appearance, which was not that of the Martian of
to-day, I knew he might be many thousand years old. What things he had
seen, what wonders he knew! What a story might be put into his mouth
if I were a capable writer gifted with time and imagination instead of
a poor outcast, ill-paid lieutenant whose literary wit is often taxed
hardly to fill even a log-book entry! I stared at him so long and
hard, and he at me through the blinking flames, that again I dozed--and
dozed--and dozed again until at last when I woke in good earnest it was
daylight.

By this time hunger was very aggressive. The fire was naught but a
circlet of grey ashes; the dead king, still sitting against the
cave-side, looked very blue and cold, and with an uncomfortable
realisation of my position I shook myself together, picked up and
pocketed without much thought the queer gold circlet that had dropped
from his forehead, and went outside to see what prospect of escape the
new day had brought.

It was not much. Upriver there was not the remotest chance. Not even
a Niagara steamer could have forged back against the sluice coming down
from the gulch there. Looking round, the sides of the icy
amphitheatre--just lighting up now with glorious gold and crimson
glimmers of morning--were as steep as a wall face; only back towards
the falls was there a possibility of getting out of the dreadful trap,
so thither I went, after a last look at the poor old king, along my
narrow beach with all the eagerness begotten of a final chance. Up to
the very brink it looked hopeless enough, but, looking downwards when
that was reached, instead of a sheer drop the slope seemed to be a wild
"staircase" of