laugh. "It was my cursed hesitation that did this. If I had not
been doubtful she might never have tried to show me the road. But I am
not sure. The fire might have the opposite effect upon me. It might make
me immortal; and, old fellow, I have not the patience to wait a couple
of thousand years for her to come back again as she did for me. I had
rather die when my hour comes--and I should fancy that it isn't far off
either--and go my ways to look for her. Do you go in if you like."

But I merely shook my head, my excitement was as dead as ditch-water,
and my distaste for the prolongation of my mortal span had come back
upon me more strongly than ever. Besides, we neither of us knew what the
effects of the fire might be. The result upon _She_ had not been of an
encouraging nature, and of the exact causes that produced that result we
were, of course, ignorant.

"Well, my boy," I said, "we cannot stop here till we go the way of those
two," and I pointed to the little heap under the white garment and to
the stiffing corpse of poor Job. "If we are going we had better go. But,
by the way, I expect that the lamps have burnt out," and I took one up
and looked at it, and sure enough it had.

"There is some more oil in the vase," said Leo indifferently--"if it is
not broken, at least."

I examined the vessel in question--it was intact. With a trembling
hand I filled the lamps--luckily there was still some of the linen wick
unburnt. Then I lit them with one of our wax matches. While I did so
we heard the pillar of fire approaching once more as it went on its
never-ending journey, if, indeed, it was the same pillar that passed and
repassed in a circle.

"Let's see it come once more," said Leo; "we shall never look upon its
like again in this world."

It seemed a bit of idle curiosity, but somehow I shared it, and so we
waited till, turning slowly round upon its own axis, it had flamed and
thundered by; and I remember wondering for how many thousands of years
this same phenomenon had been taking place in the bowels of the earth,
and for how many more thousands it would continue to take place. I
wondered also if any mortal eyes would ever again mark its passage, or
any mortal ears be thrilled and fascinated by the swelling volume of its
majestic sound. I do not think that they will. I believe that we are the
last human beings who will ever see that unearthly sight. Presently it
had gone, and we too turned to go.

But before