. But we are here to save you. I will give you a draught to
drink which will defeat the poison. Come on to us!"

Kirby's heart was almost literally in his mouth now, because the girl
who promised him salvation was she whose lips had formed a kiss at him
from the green-gloomy throat of the geyser.

His feet struck a shale bottom. Panting, he stood up and was conscious
of the fact that despite his forlornly dripping and dishevelled
condition, he was tall and straight and big, and that for some reason
all of the girls on the gleaming sand, and one girl in particular, were
anxious to receive him here.

The one girl had drawn a small, gleaming flask of gold from the misty
bodice of her gown, and was holding it out while she laughed with red
lips and great, dazzling dark eyes.

"_Pronto!_" she called in pure Spanish, and other girls echoed the word.
"Oh," went on the bright owner of the flask, "we thought you would
_never_ have done with your work on the rope. It took you so long!"

* * * * *

Kirby left the smooth lake behind him and stood dripping on the sand.
The moment the air touched his clothes, he felt that they were
stiffening slightly. Yet the sensation brought no terror. He could not
feel terror as he faced the girls.

"Give him the flask, Naida!" someone exclaimed.

"Ah, but the Gods _have_ been kind to us!" echoed another.

The girl with the flask made a gesture for silence.

"Is it Naida you are called?" Kirby put in quickly, and as he spoke the
Spanish words, the roll of them on his tongue did much to make him know
that he was sane and awake, and not dreaming, that this was still the
Twentieth Century, and that he was Freddie Kirby.

Answering his question, Naida nodded, and gave him the flask.

"A single draught will act as antidote to the poison," she said.

"I drink," said Kirby as he raised the flask, "to the many of you who
have been so gracious as to save me!"

A flashing smile, a blush was his answer. And then he had wetted his
lips with, and was swallowing, a limpid liquid which tasted of some
drug.

"Enough!" Naida ordered in a second.

As she reached for the flask, her companions closed in as though a
ceremony of some sort had been completed.

"Is it time to tell him yet, Naida?" piped one of the girls, younger
than the rest, whom someone had called Elana.

"Oh, _do_ begin, Naida," chorused two more. "We can't wait _much_ longer
to find out if he is