r as level as a table and covered with soft white sand. Mary would
never forget her first glimpse of this place; it was unreal, strange, as
if a band of outlaw fairies had brought the white sand for a carpet, and
had made this their hiding-place, where wind and rain and snow could
never blow. And up the face of the cavern, as if to make her thought
more real, led a ragged fissure which it seemed to her only fairies'
feet could travel, and which ended at the level of the plain. So they
were tundra fairies, coming down from flowers and sunlight through that
fissure, and it was from the evil spirits in the kloof itself that they
must have hidden themselves. Something in the humor and gentle thought
of it all made her smile at Alan. But his face had turned suddenly grim,
and she looked up the kloof, where they had traveled through danger and
come to safety. And then she saw that which froze all thought of fairies
out of her heart.

Men were coming through the chaos and upheaval of rock. There were many
of them, appearing out of the darker neck of the gorge into the clearer
light, and at their head was a man upon whom Mary's eyes fixed
themselves in horror. White-faced she looked at Alan. He had guessed
the truth.

"That man in front?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Is John Graham."

He heard the words choking in her throat.

"Yes, John Graham."

He swung his rifle slowly, his eyes burning with a steely fire.

"I think," he said, "that from here I can easily kill him!"

Her hand touched his arm; she was looking into his eyes. Fear had gone
out of them, and in its place was a soft and gentle radiance, a
prayer to him.

"I am thinking of tomorrow--the next day--the years and years to come,
_with you_," she whispered. "Alan, you can't kill John Graham--not until
God shows us it is the only thing left for us to do. You can't--"

The crash of a rifle between the rock walls interrupted her. The snarl
of a bullet followed the shot. She heard it strike, and her heart
stopped beating, and the rigidity of death came into her limbs and body
as she saw the swift and terrible change in the stricken face of the man
she loved. He tried to smile at her, even as a red blot came where the
streak of gray in his hair touched his forehead. And then he crumpled
down at her feet, and his rifle rattled against the rocks.

She knew it was death. Something seemed to burst in her head and fill
her brain with the roar of a flood. She sc