hem, a great thought came to him, and
struck him back to silence.

Why had he torn away from the Sulphur Mines? Only from a gloomy love
of life, life for his comrade, and life for himself. And what life
was there in this trackless waste, this mouldering dumb wilderness?
None, none. Nothing but death lay here; death in these gaunt
solitudes; death in these dry deserts; death amid these ghastly,
haggard wrecks of inhuman things. What chance could there be of
escape from Iceland? None, none, none.

But there was one hope yet. Who were these men that had passed him?
They were Thing-men; they were the lawmakers. Where were they going?
They were going to the Mount of Laws. Why were they going there? To
hold their meeting of Althing. What was Althing? The highest power of
the State; the supreme Court of legislature and law.

What did all this mean? It meant that Jason as an Icelander knew the
laws of his country, and that one great law above all other laws he
remembered at that instant. It concerned outlaws. And what were they
but outlaws, both of them? It ordered that the condemned could appeal
at Althing against the injustice of his sentence. If the ranks of the
judges opened for his escape, then he was saved.

Jason leaped to his feet at the thought of it. That was what he would
do for his comrade and for himself. He would push on to Thingvellir.
It was five and thirty heavy miles away; but no matter for that. The
angel of hope would walk with him. He would reach the Mount of Laws,
carrying his comrade all the way. And when he got there, he would
plead the cause of both of them. Then the judges would rise, and
part, and make way for them, and they would be free men thereafter.

Life, life, life! There was life left for both of them, and very
sweet it seemed after the shadow of death that had so nearly
encompassed them. Only to live! Only to live! They were young yet and
loved one another as brothers.

And while thinking so, in the whirl of his senses as he strode to and
fro over the lava blocks, Jason heard what his ear had hitherto been
too heavy to catch, the thin music of falling water near at hand.
And, looking up, he saw a tiny rivulet like a lock of silken hair
dropping over a round face of rock, and thanking God for it, he ran
to it, and filled both hands with it, and brought it to Sunlocks and
bathed his forehead with it, and his poor blinded eyes, and moistened
his withered lips, whispering meantime words of