ore the latter's
death. In addition to this he had in the end made the supreme
sacrifice--he had given his life.

Sitting there in the starlight she told Wilson these things, with a
sob in her voice.

"And so he kept his word after all--didn't he? He brought me to him."

The older man by her side looked up at her.

"My daughter," he murmured. "My daughter."

She placed her arm over his shoulder scarcely able to believe the good
fortune which had at once placed her here between her father and her
lover.

"The golden idol did some good after all," she whispered.

"The idol?" asked her father. "What idol?"

"You remember nothing of an image?" broke in Wilson.

"An image? An idol? I have seen them. I have seen them, but--but I
can't remember where."

He spoke with a sort of childlike, apologetic whine. Wilson
hesitated a moment. He had brought the idol with him after finding it
in the hut where Manning had carried it from the raft--apparently
unconsciously--and had taken it, fearing to leave it with Flores. He
had intended to throw it away in the mountains in some inaccessible
place where it could never again curse human lives. This image ought
to be final proof as to whether or not Manning could recall anything
of his life as a priest of the Sun God or not. If the sight of
this failed to arouse his dead memory, then nothing ever could. Of
all the things in this life among these mountains no one thing had
ever figured so prominently or so vitally in his life as this.
About this had centered all his fanatical worship--all his power.

As Wilson rose to get the image from where he had hidden it near
Stubbs, the girl seized his arm and, bending far forward, gasped:

"The shadow--did you see it?"

Wilson turned with his weapon cocked.

"Where?" he demanded.

But underneath the trees where she had thought she saw a movement all
was quiet again--all was silent. With a laugh at her fears, Wilson
secured the image and brought it back. He thrust it towards Manning.
It was clearly visible in the moonlight. The girl shrank a little away
from it.

"Ugh!" she shuddered. "I don't like to look at it to-night."

In the dull silver light it appeared heavier and more somber than in
the firelight. It still sat cross-legged with the same cynical smile
about its cruel mouth, the same bestial expression about the brow, the
same low-burning fires in the spider-like eyes. As Wilson and her
father bent over it she turned away