w fear as the form of a woman arose
from a crevice in the stone wall--did the ghost of the ruin wait for
him there?

The figure halted uncertainly and then ran toward him with outreaching
hand.

It was Yahn Tsyn-deh, and she was half laughing and half sobbing, and
the barrier of anger was brushed aside as if it had never been.

"Ka-yemo!--Ka-yemo!" she whispered--"You dare be highest now;--and
Tahn-te will be under your feet, Ka-yemo!"

She clasped her arms about him as she stumbled, breathless, at his
feet, and his hands clutched her in fierceness.

"Is this a trick?"--he asked. "Have I trapped you with a lover, and
you run to me with a new game?"

"Oh--fool, you!" she breathed--"There was but one lover, and he went
blind, and walked away from me at a daybreak!"

She would have said more, but he caught her up and held her too close
for speech, and she felt in triumph the trembling of his body.

"The man Gonzalvo,"--he muttered--"I was walking to find the way I
could kill him alone because you wear his gifts."

"Fool!" she whispered again. "Shall I then go to a woman at Shufinne
and kill her because her gifts are with you? I let her live to see
that the gifts she brings are little beside my own! I bring you
victory over Tahn-te the sorcerer of Povi-whah! I bring you the trail
to his witch maid of the hills. With her he comes to make prayers in
the night time! For this he guards the dwellings of the star where she
is hidden. Tahn-te the sorcerer shall be under your feet! Ka-yemo--I
bring this to you!"

And while they clung to each other, scarce daring to think that union
and triumph was again their own, Tahn-te the Ruler of magic sat within
the ancient dwelling where the symbols of the Po-Ahtun are marked on
the walls even in this day.

In a shadowed corner a tiny fire glimmered, and by its light he
studied the clear crystal of the sacred fire-stone. With prayer he
studied it long, and the things speaking in the milky depths held him
close, and the breath stopped in his body many times while he looked,
and the prayers said through the Flute of the Gods were prayers to the
Trues to which he sent all his spirit.

Then from his medicine pouch he took the seeds of the sacred by-otle
into which the dreams of the gods have ever grown as the blossom
grows.

Darklings were these, gathered when the moon was at rest, and no
wandering stars swam high in the night sky. The dreams in these shut
out day knowledge, an