le.

Running women brushed against Milo in the passage; all the camp's living
people had caught the fever. The giant strode on, until he stood in the
rugged rock portals and gazed once more over the sea. The schooner had
moved but slightly since he last looked at her; he could see Dolores's
head still advancing, and very near to the vessel now. The breeze had
lulled, perhaps preceding a shift of wind; and the visible people on the
deck of the Feu Follette appeared to be running back and forth in
indecision.

At Milo's right hand the great rock sat on its ledge, ready to fall at a
touch, and his brooding eyes flashed to it with terrible meaning.
Inside, the great chamber resounded with the clash of steel, the shouts
of furious human beasts, and the shrill cries of women urging them on;
for there must be victors, even to such a sordid fight, and to the
victors, spoils. Where victors and spoils are, there harpy women await
them.

Milo gazed long and passionately into the face of his dead; then he laid
her softly down outside the rock and arose with a fierce light
irradiating his face.

"Dogs, who would thus break the sleep of my beloved, I give ye good for
evil!" he muttered. "Treasure ye crave: treasure I give ye, and none may
take it from ye!"

He turned, put his hand upon the great rock and started it from its bed.
And as he moved the mass, the mountain rocked and crashed with the
thunder of the bursting powder-magazine.

Down came the great rock, pinning Milo beneath it, threatening in its
final fall to crush him and the body of his love. His great arms shot
out and up, every muscle on his colossal frame stood out like ropes, his
back cracked with the tremendous strain. He stiffened his knees, bit
into his lip until the blood gushed; and a groan burst from his breast
as he felt his stout knees stagger.

His bulging eyes glared ahead over the sea; into the air flew a thousand
fragments of shattered rock; they fell and thrashed the sea into foam a
mile from shore. Rocks fell upon his already overwhelming burden; his
knees bent, and the blood trickled from his nostrils. And with his fast
ebbing breath he breathed his valedictory, fixing his stony eyes upon
Pascherette as upon his deity.

"Gods of my fathers, receive my spirit into thy halls. Let thy swift
justice overtake the cause of this upheaval; and receive with my spirit
the spirit of the one who loved me." He fell to one knee, and a great
sob shook him. T