he recollection of the scene occurred to
him. There was no doubt about it, he must get away at once. With as much
haste as he could command, he stumbled about the camp, collecting the
two mules and loading them with such things as he desired to carry away
with him. The small bag of diamonds, to which Moreas had contributed a
minor share, he resolved to take with him. With the others, however,
which had been the cause of all the trouble, and for which Moreas had
paid with his life, he would have nothing to do. If the other members of
the party desired to possess them, let them come after them and find
them for themselves. For his part, he was not going to handle them
again. Then, throwing another shuddering glance at his dead foe, he
reeled away in the dark up the hillside, _en route_ for civilisation
once more. The spirit of Moreas seemed to be walking beside him, and it
was as if his last dreadful shriek echoed continually among the hills.
Scarcely knowing what he was doing, weak and exhausted from loss of
blood, he staggered on as best he could, willing to do or bear anything
rather than remain in a place, the mere thought of which was as bitter
to him as hell. At last, unable to go any further, he threw himself down
upon the ground and fell into a deep sleep that was something more than
a mere slumber. He can remember nothing more save that one longing
continually possessed him, namely, to push on in search of Bertram, and
never to see that plain again.

How he managed to accomplish it in the condition in which he was then,
no one will ever know. It is quite certain that he himself could not
tell. Cross the range, however, and that terrible desert on the other
side of it, he certainly did. A month later, with both mules missing,
though where he had lost them he could not tell, and his own frame
reduced to a skeleton, he reached the spot in the mountains where he and
Bertram had drawn lots and had said good-bye to each other so many
months before. Then he dropped, as he thought, to die.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Max's surprise may be imagined when, after he had fallen unconscious, he
opened his eyes to find Bertram kneeling beside him.

"Thank God!" said the latter, as soon as he saw that his friend
recognised him. "We had begun to think it was all over with you."

Max endeavoured to speak, but his voice was too weak to utter a word. A
moment later he had closed his eyes once more. Though so near death's
door, he