drawing nearer, growing larger with every march.

It may seem strange how readily Laurence Stanninghame adapted himself to
this new turn in the tide of his affairs--and indeed now and again he
would faintly wonder at it himself. He had fought against these
formidable savages in the most determined and bloody hand-to-hand
conflict that had ever befallen his lot, or, in all probability, ever
would again. They had overwhelmed and massacred his comrades and whole
following; sparing himself alone, and that by a miracle. And now not
only was he subjected to no ill-treatment or indignity, but moved freely
among them, and was even suffered to retain his arms. Yet there was a
sort of stand-offishness about most of them, in which he thought to
descry a mingling of awe and repulsion.

Now and again, however, a thought would occur to him,--a thought
productive of a cold shiver. To what end was he thus spared? Was it to
be sacrificed in some hideous and gruesome rite? The thought was not a
pleasant one, and it would intrude more and more. The hot African glow,
the adventurous life, replete with every phase of weird and depressing
incident, had strangely affected this man's temperament. With all his
coolness in emergencies--his readiness of resource--in times of rest he
would grow moody and high-strung. A sort of surcharged, mesmeric
property seemed to hold him at such times, and he would wonder whether
the hideous experiences and iron self-repression which he had passed
through of late had not begun, unknown to himself, actually to affect
his brain.

Now during the heat of the midday halt, he would withdraw and sit alone
by the hour, contemplating the metal box, and at times its contents.
More and more, since his wonderful escape, was it assuming in his eyes
the properties of an amulet, or charm. It would reassure him, too, what
time unpleasant thoughts would weigh upon him as to the end to which he
had been reserved. Twice had Lilith's love stood between him and death.
Would it not again? In truth the metal box was a possession beyond
price.

All unconsciously his frequent and rapt contemplation of this object was
standing him in valuable stead. The Ba-gcatya, furtively beholding him
thus engaged,--for he was never beyond their watchful gaze,--were
strengthened in their belief that he was a magician of the Spider, and
feared him the more. He was thus, unconsciously, keeping up his
character as such.

Yet, vivid as recollect