somehow for something more than merely a fellow-creature in danger. He
took a quicker interest in her--an interest expressing itself now in
a sense of infinite tenderness. He resented the fact that she was
being led away from him into paths he could not follow--that she was
at the beck of this lean, cold-eyed stranger and his heathenish idol.

"Below the waters. Look! Look!"

"No! No!" she cried.

"The shrine is there. Seek it! Seek it!"

He forced the words through his teeth in his concentrated effort to
drive them into the girl's brain in the form of a command. But for
some reason she rebelled at doing this. It was as though to go below
the waters even in this condition choked her until she must gasp for
breath. It was evidently some secret which lay there--the location of
some shrine or hiding place which he most desired to locate through
her while in this psychic state, for he insisted upon this while she
struggled against it. Her head was lifted now as though, before
finally driven to take the plunge, she sought aid--not from anyone
here in the room, but from someone upon the borders of the lake where,
in her trance, she now stood. And it came. Her face brightened--her
whole body throbbed with renewed life. She threw out her hand with a
cry which startled both men.

"Father! Father!"

The wounded man, puzzled, drew back leaving for a moment the other
unguarded. Wilson sprang, and in three bounds was across the room. He
struck up the arm just as a finger pressed the trigger. The wounded
man fell back in a heap--far too exhausted to struggle further. Wilson
turned to the girl and swept the image out of her lap to the floor
where it lay blinking at the ceiling. The girl, blind and deaf to this
struggle, remained sitting upright with the happy smile of recognition
still about her mouth. She repeated over and over again the glad cry
of "Father! Father!"

Wilson stooped and repeated her name, but received no response. He
rubbed her forehead and her listless hands. Still she sat there
scarcely more than a clay image. Wilson turned upon the stranger with
his fists doubled up.

"Rouse her!" he cried. "Rouse her, or I'll throttle you!"

The man made his feet and staggered to the girl's side.

"Awake!" he commanded intensely.

The eyes instantly responded. It was as though a mist slowly faded
from before them, layer after layer, as fog rises from a lake in the
morning. Her mouth relaxed and expression returned