dims creatures of evil in the Room
of Silence. Thereby I knew that you are indeed my brother."

The brain of Connor groped slowly in the rear of these words. He was too
stunned by disappointment to think clearly, but vaguely he made out that
David had dismissed the argument and was now asking him to come for a
walk by the lake.

"The lake's well enough," he answered, "but it occurs to me that I've
got to get on with my journey."

"You must leave me?"

There was such real anxiety in his voice that Connor softened a little.

"I've got a lot to do," he explained. "I only stopped over to rest my
nags, in the first place. Then this other idea came along, but since the
voice has rapped it there's nothing for me to do but to get on my way
again."

"It is a long trip?"

"Long enough."

"The Garden of Eden is a lonely place."

"You'll have the voice to cheer you up."

"The voice is an awful thing. There is no companionship in it. This
thought comes to me. Leave the mule and the horse. Take Shakra. She will
carry you swiftly and safely over the mountains and bring you back
again. And I shall be happy to know that she is with you while you are
away. Then go, brother, if you must, and return in haste."

It was the opening of the gates of heaven to Connor at the very moment
when he had surrendered the last hope. He heard David call the servants,
heard an order to bring Shakra saddled at once. The canteen was being
filled for the journey. Into the incredulous mind of the gambler the
truth filtered by degrees, as candlelight probes a room full of
treasure, flashing ever and anon into new corners filled with
undiscovered riches.

Shakra was his to ride over the mountains. And why stop there? There was
no mark on her, and his brand would make her his. She would be safe in
an Eastern racing stable before they even dreamed of pursuit. And when
her victories on the track had built his fortune he could return her,
and raise a breed of peerless horses. A theft? Yes, but so was the
stealing of the fire from heaven for the use of mankind.

He would have been glad to leave the Garden of Eden at once, but that
was not in David's scheme of things. To him a departure into the world
beyond the mountains was as a voyage into an uncharted sea. His dignity
kept him from asking questions, but it was obvious that he was painfully
anxious to learn the necessity of Connor's going.

That night in the patio he held forth at length of the t