ion, that and the fierce passion that urged him, endowing him
with an endurance more than human.

Headlong as was his flight, the working of his brain was even swifter,
and very soon, without slackening his speed, he was swerving round again
towards the open. He could see the moonlight gleaming through the trees,
and he made a dash for it, utterly reckless, since caution was of no
avail, but alert for every danger, cunning for every advantage, keen as
the born fighter for every chance that offered.

And so at last, torn, bleeding, but undismayed, he struggled free from
the undergrowth, and sprang away from that place of horrors, staggering
slightly but running strongly still, till the dark line of jungle fell
away behind him and he reached the river bank once more.

Here he stopped and loosened his grip upon the slight form he carried.
Her arms dropped from his neck. She had fainted.

For a few seconds he stared down into her white face, seeing nothing
else, while the fiery heart of him leapt and quivered like a wild thing
in leash. Then, suddenly, from the water a voice hailed him, and he
looked up with a start.

"Hullo, Pat! What on earth is the matter? You have landed the wrong side
of the stream. Is anything wrong?"

It was Teddy Duncombe in a boat below him. He saw his face of concern in
the moonlight.

He pulled himself together.

"I was coming to warn you. This infernal jungle is full of snakes. We've
had to run for it, and leave the boat behind."

"Great Scotland! And Mrs. Perceval?"

Again Hone's eyes sought the white face on his arm.

"No, she isn't hurt. It's just a faint. Pull up close, and I'll hand her
down to you!"

Between them, they lowered her into the boat. Hone followed, and raised
her to lean against his knee.

Duncombe began to row swiftly across the stream, with an uneasy eye upon
the two in the stern.

"What in the world made you go wrong, I wonder?" he said. "No one ever
goes that side, not even the natives. They say it's haunted. We all
landed near the old bathing _ghat_."

Hone was moistening Nina Perceval's face with his handkerchief. He made
no reply to Teddy's words. He was anxiously watching for some sign of
returning consciousness.

It came very soon. The dark eyes opened and gazed up at him, at first
uncomprehendingly, then with a dawning wonder.

"St. Patrick!" she whispered.

"Princess!" he whispered back.

With an effort she raised herself, leaning against him