mile ahead the pillars stopped at the edge of a shimmering,
quivering curtain of green luminescence. High, high up past the pale
gilt suns its smooth folds ran, into the golden amber mist that canopied
the columns.

In its sparkling was more than a hint of the dancing corpuscles of the
aurora; it was, indeed, as though woven of the auroral rays. And all
about it played shifting, tremulous shadows formed by the merging of the
golden light with the curtain's emerald gleaming.

Up to its base swept the cube that bore Ruth and Norhala--and stopped.
From it leaped the woman, and drew Ruth down beside her, then turned and
gestured toward us.

That upon which we rode drew close. I felt it quiver beneath me; felt on
the instant, the magnetic grip drop from me, angle downward and leave me
free. Shakily I arose from aching knees, and saw Ventnor flash down and
run, rifle in hand, toward his sister.

Drake bent for his gun. I moved unsteadily toward the side of the
clustered cubes. There came a curious pushing motion driving me to the
edge. Sliding over upon me came Drake and the pony--

The cube tilted, gently, playfully--and with the slightest of jars the
three of us stood beside it on the floor, we two men gaping at it in
renewed wonder, and the little beast stretching its legs, lifting its
feet and whinnying with relief.

Then abruptly the four blocks that had been our steed broke from each
other; that which had been the woman's glided to them.

The four clicked into place behind it and darted from sight.

"Ruth!" Ventnor's voice was vibrant with his fear. "Ruth! What is wrong
with you? What has she done to you?"

We ran to his side. He stood clutching her hands, searching her eyes.
They were wide, unseeing, dream filled. Upon her face the calm and
stillness, which were mirrored reflections of Norhala's unearthly
tranquillity, had deepened.

"Brother." The sweet voice seemed far away, drifting out of untroubled
space, an echo of Norhala's golden chimings--"Brother, there is nothing
wrong with me. Indeed--all is--well with me--brother."

He dropped the listless palms, faced the woman, tall figure tense, drawn
with mingled rage and anguish.

"What have you done to her?" he whispered in Norhala's own tongue.

Her serene gaze took him in, undisturbed by his anger save for the
faintest shadow of wonder, of perplexity.

"Done?" she repeated, slowly. "I have stilled all that was troubled
within her--have lifted her