ng made fast to the crupper.
Semitzin seized the bridle, and started up the gorge, Kamaiakan bringing
up the rear. The lower levels were already filling with water, which
came pouring out through the archway in a full flood, seemingly
inexhaustible.

"I see how it is," mumbled Freeman, half to himself. "The earthquake--I
remember! I got hit somehow. They came from the ranch to hunt me up. But
where are the general and Professor Meschines? How long ago was it?
And how came Miriam... Could the mirage have had anything to do with
it?--Here, let me walk," he called out to her, "and you get up and
ride."

She turned her head, smiling again, but hurried on without speaking.
The roar of the torrent followed them. Once or twice the mule came near
losing his footing. Freeman, whose head was swimming, and his brains
buzzing like a hive of bees, had all he could do to maintain his
equilibrium in the saddle. He was excruciatingly thirsty, and the
gurgling of waters round about made him wish he might dismount and
plunge into them. But he lacked power to form a decided purpose, and
permitted the more energetic will to control him. It might have been
minutes, or it might have been hours, for all he knew: at last they
halted, near the base of the white pyramid.

"Here we are safe," said Semitzin, coming to his side. "Lean on me, my
love, and I will lift you down."

"Oh, I'm not quite so bad as that, you know," said Freeman, with a
feeble laugh; and, to prove it, he blundered off the saddle, and came
down on the ground with a thwack. He picked himself up, however, and
recollecting that he had a flask with brandy in it, he felt for it,
found it intact, and, with an inarticulate murmur of apology, raised it
to his lips. It was like the veritable elixir of life: never in his life
before had Freeman quaffed so deep a draught of the fiery spirit. It was
just what he wanted.

But he felt oddly embarrassed. He did not know what to make of Miriam.
It was not her strange costume merely, but she seemed to have put
on--or put off--something with it that made a difference in her. She was
assertive, imperious; as loving, certainly, as lover could wish, but not
in the manner of the Miriam he knew. He might have liked the new Miriam
better, had he not previously fallen in love with the former one. He
could not make advances to her: he had no opportunity to do so: she was
making advances to him!

"My love," she said, standing before him, "I hav