she saw him reel. Then, in a moment, she saw that both men
were down on hands and knees, and, almost at the instant, she,
herself, was hurled flat upon the ground beside the body of her aunt.

The earth was rocking, and now she understood more fully her lover's
trouble. Her courage slowly began to ebb. She fought against it, but
slowly a terror of that dreadful hill crept up in her heart, and she
longed to flee anywhere from it--anywhere but down into that caldron
of fire below. But the thought was impossible. Death was on every hand
beyond that hill, and the hill itself was--quaking.

Now Buck was speaking again.

"We'll have to git som'ere from here," he said.

The Padre answered him--

"Where?"

It was an admission of the elder man's weakness. Buck must guide. The
girl's eyes remained upon her lover's face; she was awaiting his
reply. She understood, had always known it, that all human help for
her must come from him.

Her suspense was almost breathless.

"There's shelter by the lake," Buck said, after a long pause. "We can
get to leeward of the rock, an'--it's near the head of that path
droppin' to the creek. The creek seems better than anywher'
else--after this."

His manner was decided, but his words offered poor enough comfort.

The Padre agreed, and, at once, they moved across to Joan. For the
moment the earth was still again. Its convulsive shudder had passed.
Joan struggled to her feet, but her increasing terror left her
clinging to the man she loved. The Padre silently gathered Mercy into
his arms, and the journey across the plateau began.

But as they moved away the subterranean forces attacked again. Again
came that awful rocking, and shaking, which left them struggling for a
foothold. Twice they were driven to their knees, only to stagger on as
the convulsions lessened. It was a nightmare of nervous tension. Every
step of the journey was fraught with danger, and every moment it
seemed as though the hill must fall beneath them to a crumbling
wreckage.

With heart-sick apprehension Joan watched the growing form of the
great rock, which formed the source of the lake, as it loomed out of
the smoke-laden dusk. It was so high, so sheer. What if it fell,
wrecked with those dreadful earth quakings? But her terror found no
voice, no protest. She would not add to the burden of these men. The
rock passed behind them, and her relief was intense as the shadow was
swallowed up again in the gloom. Then a