ited to such a seizure. He could only wait in a
dreadful silence--wait, clasping her to his breast--and dumbly wonder
what other loss he could suffer ere the final release came.

At last she sighed deeply. A strong tremor of returning life stirred
her frame.

"Thank God!" he murmured, and bowed his head. Were the sun shining he
could not see her now, for his eyes were blurred.

"Robert!" she whispered.

"Yes, darling."

"Are you safe?"

"Safe! my loved one! Think of yourself! What has happened to you?"

"I fainted--I think. I have no hurt. I missed you! Something told me
you had gone. I went to help you, or die with you. And then that noise!
And the light! What did you do?"

He silenced her questioning with a passionate kiss. He carried her to a
little nook and fumbled among the stores until he found a bottle of
brandy. She drank some. Under its revivifying influence she was soon
able to listen to the explanation he offered--after securing the
ladder.

In a tall tree near the Valley of Death he had tightly fixed a loaded
rifle which pointed at a loose stone in the rock overhanging the ledge
held by the Dyaks. This stone rested against a number of percussion
caps extracted from cartridges, and these were in direct communication
with a train of powder leading to a blasting charge placed at the end
of a twenty-four inch hole drilled with a crowbar. The impact of the
bullet against the stone could not fail to explode some of the caps. He
had used the contents of three hundred cartridges to secure a
sufficiency of powder, and the bullets were all crammed into the
orifice, being tamped with clay and wet sand. The rifle was fired by
means of the string, the loose coils of which were secreted at the foot
of the poon. By springing this novel mine he had effectually removed
every Dyak from the ledge, over which its contents would spread like a
fan. Further, it would probably deter the survivors from again
venturing near that fatal spot.

Iris listened, only half comprehending. Her mind was filled with one
thought to the exclusion of all others. Robert had left her, had done
this thing without telling her. She forgave him, knowing he acted for
the best, but he must never, never deceive her again in such a manner.
She could not bear it.

What better excuse could man desire for caressing her, yea, even
squeezing her, until the sobs ceased and she protested with a weak
little laugh----

"Robert, I haven't got much br