hearts with ghostly fingers dripping with
despair. From every shattered heap it seemed to pour, rushing down the
road upon us like a torrent, engulfing us, submerging, drowning.

Unseen it was--yet tangible as water; it sapped the life from every
nerve. Weariness filled me, a desire to drop upon the stones, to be
rolled away. To die. I felt Drake's body quivering even as mine; knew
that he was drawing upon every reserve of strength.

"Steady," he muttered. "Steady--"

The Tibetan shrieked and fled, the ponies scrambling after him. Dimly
I remembered that mine carried precious specimens; a surge of anger
passed, beating back the anguish. I heard a sob from Chiu-Ming, saw him
drop.

Drake stopped, drew him to his feet. We placed him between us, thrust
each an arm through his own. Then, like swimmers, heads bent, we pushed
on, buffeting that inexplicable invisible flood.

As the path rose, its force lessened, my vitality grew, and the terrible
desire to yield and be swept away waned. Now we had reached the foot of
the cyclopean stairs, now we were half up them--and now as we struggled
out upon the ledge on which the watching fortress stood, the clutching
stream shoaled swiftly, the shoal became safe, dry land and the cheated,
unseen maelstrom swirled harmlessly beneath us.

We stood erect, gasping for breath, again like swimmers who have fought
their utmost and barely, so barely, won.

There was an almost imperceptible movement at the side of the ruined
portal.

Out darted a girl. A rifle dropped from her hands. Straight she sped
toward me.

And as she ran I recognized her.

Ruth Ventnor!

The flying figure reached me, threw soft arms around my neck, was
weeping in relieved gladness on my shoulder.

"Ruth!" I cried. "What on earth are YOU doing here?"

"Walter!" she sobbed. "Walter Goodwin--Oh, thank God! Thank God!"

She drew herself from my arms, catching her breath; laughed shakily.

I took swift stock of her. Save for fear upon her, she was the same Ruth
I had known three years before; wide, deep blue eyes that were now
all seriousness, now sparkling wells of mischief; petite, rounded and
tender; the fairest skin; an impudent little nose; shining clusters of
intractable curls; all human, sparkling and sweet.

Drake coughed, insinuatingly. I introduced him.

"I--I watched you struggling through that dreadful pit." She shuddered.
"I could not see who you were, did not know whether friend or enemy--bu