e out the figure of a mounted man behind the alder screen, his
horse standing belly deep in the water. It was the cavalier of the
ostrich-feathers; and then, through the white trunks of the birches, he
caught the flutter of a woman's gown. Constans tried to shout, to call
out, but the vocal chords refused to relax, the sounds rattled in his
throat.

II

THE NIGHT OF THE TERROR

The reader, desiring to inform himself _in extenso_ regarding the
physical and social changes that followed the catastrophe by which the
ancient civilization was so suddenly subverted, would do well to consult
the final authority upon the subject, the learned Vigilas, author of
_The Later Cosmos_ (elephant folio edition). But for our present purpose
a brief epitome should suffice. To borrow then, with all due
acknowledgments, from our admirable historian:

* * * * *

"It was in the later years of the twentieth century that the Great
Change came; at least, so the traditions agree, and how is a man to know
certainly of such things except as he learns them from his father's
lips? True, the accounts differ, and widely so at times, but that much
is to be expected--where were there ever two men who heard or saw the
same things in the same way? It is human nature that we should color
even transparent fact with the reflected glow of our passions and
fancies, and so the distortion becomes inevitable; we should be
satisfied if, to-day, we succeed in making out even the broad outlines
of the picture.

"It appears tolerably certain that the wreck of the ancient civilization
took place about three generations ago, the catastrophe being both
sudden and overwhelming; moreover, all the authorities agree that only
an infinitesimal portion of the race escaped, with whole skins, from
what were, in very sooth, cities of destruction. These fortunate ones
were naturally the politically powerful and the immensely rich, and they
owed their safety to the fact that they were able to seize upon the
shipping in the harbors for their exclusive use. The fugitives sailed
away, presumably to the southward, and so disappeared from the pages of
authentic history. We know nothing for certain; only that they departed,
and that we saw their faces no more.

"Let us reconstruct, as best we may, the panorama of those few but awful
days. The first rush was naturally to the country, but the crowds,
choking the ferry and railway stations, we