lded with
the fever, but sane, I could see the stars spangling my scrap of sky. My
adventure had occurred in the morning, but whether hours or days had
played out their scores I did not know. I drank and slept again. I next
woke to the glare of forenoon. The clouds in my brain had been swept
away, and the hand I lifted fell weakly back on a forehead which was
cool and moist. The battling life spark had triumphed over the native
poison. But when I tried to drag myself to the mouth of my grotto, my
weak head began rambling again, so that real and unreal things wandered
strangely together. My side was lacerated by the pistol which had been
at my belt as I tossed in the fever. A twist in the fissure brought me
to the point where I, still concealed in the dark shadow, could see the
primitive terrace of my plateau, and there were such things as brought
back upon me an avalanche of terror, rage and violence.

The lady still smiled from her post of honor with her gracious and
fearless eyes. The curved damascus daggers still held the enamelled
sheet in place, but beyond her I saw death. Against a background of
intense sea and sky under the glare of a fiercely brilliant sun, stood
grouped a human ensemble of indescribable color and savagery. Upon
scores of black and sweating torsos; upon gorgeously dyed feather work
and shell ornaments, the light fell in color gone mad. They stood massed
and silent, their spears and bows and clubs for the moment idle. Their
faces mutilated with spiked ears and nose ornaments and dyed teeth, were
unspeakably hideous. Every eye was just now intent on the portrait of my
lady. At the front stood the three whom I had supposed to be priests at
the amphitheatre, and with them was a man very aged and white haired,
but erect and gorgeously appareled.

Slowly one of the priests approached the portrait and put out an
ulcerous hand to touch the face. A tidal wave of unspeakable fury caught
me up and swept me back into the realm of insanity. I was transplanted
in an instant to the nightmares of my delirium. I saw instead of a
lifeless picture the slender, breathing figure of the woman I worshiped
contaminated by this profane touch. I attempted to rush out and die like
some Mad Mullah devotee in fanatical battle with her assailants, but my
strength was not equal to my impulse. I stumbled to my knees and my
right hand fell upon the hilt of my pistol. I whipped it out and fired.
In my agued hand it should have