or of the tank-room, and the little
staircase to the tower. There was a strange smoky and herb-like smell in
the room. He made an effort to rise, but as he did so a small sunburnt
hand was laid gently yet restrainingly upon his shoulder, and he heard
the same musical cry as before, but this time modulated to a girlish
laugh. He raised his head faintly. Half squatting, half kneeling by his
bed was the yellow-haired stranger.

With the recollection of his vision still perplexing him, he said in a
weak voice, "Who are you?"

Her blue eyes met his own with quick intelligence and no trace of her
former timidity. A soft, caressing light had taken its place. Pointing
with her finger to her breast in a childlike gesture, she said,
"Me--Olooya."

"Olooya!" He remembered suddenly that Jim had always used that word in
speaking of her, but until then he had always thought it was some Indian
term for her distinct class.

"Olooya," he repeated. Then, with difficulty attempting to use her own
tongue, he asked, "When did you come here?"

"Last night," she answered in the same tongue. "There was no witch-fire
there," she continued, pointing to the tower; "when it came not, Olooya
came! Olooya found white chief sick and alone. White chief could not get
up! Olooya lit witch-fire for him."

"You?" he repeated in astonishment. "I lit it myself."

She looked at him pityingly, as if still recognizing his delirium,
and shook her head. "White chief was sick--how can know? Olooya made
witch-fire."

He cast a hurried glance at his watch hanging on the wall beside him.
It had RUN DOWN, although he had wound it the last thing before going to
bed. He had evidently been lying there helpless beyond the twenty-four
hours!

He groaned and turned to rise, but she gently forced him down again, and
gave him some herbal infusion, in which he recognized the taste of the
Yerba Buena vine which grew by the river. Then she made him comprehend
in her own tongue that Jim had been decoyed, while drunk, aboard a
certain schooner lying off the shore at a spot where she had seen some
men digging in the sands. She had not gone there, for she was afraid
of the bad men, and a slight return of her former terror came into her
changeful eyes. She knew how to light the witch-light; she reminded him
she had been in the tower before.

"You have saved my light, and perhaps my life," he said weakly, taking
her hand.

Possibly she did not understand him, for her o