He swayed but she caught him and put an arm around one shoulder,
clutching it with the other hand.

"Lean on me," she muttered. "I'm strong enough----"

"No--go, Beth----"

But she put her strength under him and began walking while he staggered
on beside her. Sparks and fiery brands rained down upon them, blistering
and burning, the hot breath of the furnace drove their breath poisoned
back into their lungs and scorched their bodies, but still they remained
upright--and by a miracle still moved on.

"To the left," Peter heard dimly, "the swamp is close by."

He obeyed her, more dead than alive, and by sheer effort of will kept
his feet moving, paced to hers. He seemed to be walking as though in a
red fever, on leaden feet, carrying a body that had no weight or
substance.

But after a while his feet too seemed to grow lighter and he felt
himself falling through space. But her arms were still about him.

"Peter," he heard her voice in agony, "only a few yards further----"

With a last remaining effort he struggled and then his feet stumbling,
toppled forward and sank into something soft, something deliciously cool
and soothing. He felt a hand tugging at him, but he had no pain now, no
weakness--only the perfect happiness of a body that, seeking rest, has
found it.

After a while he revived at the sound of a voice at his ear. Water was
splashing over his face and he struggled up.

"No--keep down," he heard Beth's voice saying. "We're safe, Peter--the
wind is changing----"

"And you, Beth----?"

"All right, dear. A little patience----"

The voice trembled, but there was a world of faith in it. After all that
had happened, it was impossible that further disaster should follow now.

"Y-you're all right?" he gasped weakly.

"Yes. Yes. Lie still for a while."

And so they half lay, half crouched in the mud and water, while the
inferno swept over them, passing to the south. His head was on her
breast and against his ear he could feel her heart beating bravely, a
message of strength and cheer. From time to time her wet fingers brushed
his hair with water and then, as he seemed to be sinking into a dream
again, he felt lips light as thistle-down upon his brows.

Death such as this, he thought, was very pleasant.

And then later he was aroused by a shrill clear call.... Then saw lights
flashing.... Heard men's voices.... Felt himself carried in strong arms
... but all the while there were soft fingers in hi