all of them had fought hard for their god. But the father of this girl
incurred the displeasure of the Priest and finally, not yielding to
discipline, his wrath. The stern autocrat of these tribes condemned
him to extreme punishment--a fast of thirty days in the hut upon the
mountain top--the hut of the Golden God. Cowed and frightened, the
man, somewhat feeble with sickness, bade good-bye to his daughter and
climbed the rugged path. Below, the girl waited day after day until
the strain became unbearable. She ventured, knowing well what the
penalty was, to visit him with food. She found him groaning upon the
stone floor, eaten by fever and racked with pain. She nursed him until
her supplies were exhausted and then came down for more, choosing a
secret path which she in her rambles as a girl had discovered. It was
then she heard whispered among the gossips news of a white stranger
with marvelous powers who was hiding in the hut of a neighbor. It was
just after the battle with the men from the sea--a battle terrible in
its ferocity. This man was one of the refugees from the scattered
army, sheltered at first for gold and later because of the power he
possessed of stopping pain. A wounded native, member of the family
which sheltered him, had been brought in suffering agonies and the
stranger had healed him with the touch of a tiny needle. Lotta heard
these things and that night found the stranger's hiding place and
begged him to follow. He knew enough of the native language to
understand and--to make his bargain. If she would guide him to the
mountain pass, he would follow.

The man was Sorez.

The next few hours were burned into Sorez' mind forever. At her heels
he had clawed his way up the steep hillside expecting at every step a
spear thrust in his back. He tore his hands and knees, but, drawn on
by a picture of the girl, moving shadow-like in the moonlight ahead of
him, he followed steadily after. Pausing for breath once he saw the
dark fringe of trees below the lava slopes, the twinkle of the camp
fires, and over all the clear stars. But this region here was a dead
region. He felt as if he were moving through some inferno, some
ghastly haunt of moaning specters, with the dark-faced girl guiding
him like some dead love. On they climbed in silence until his head
began to swim with the exertion and the rarefied air. Suddenly the
girl disappeared as though she had dropped over a precipice. To the
left he saw a small pat