ree to tree in aimless
flight. Enormous bats hurtled in the air, blinded by the unusual light.
From the dense undergrowth strange denizens of the woods, disturbed in
their nightly prowl, leaped forth and scurried squealing between the
galloping hoofs, reckless of anything save their own fear. Everything
that was alive upon the island was in motion, and fear was the motor of
them all.

So far, we saw no natives. Their absence did not surprise me, for I had
no time for thought. It was explained later.

Edith Metford's pony soon became unmanageable in its fright. I unbuckled
one spur and gave it to her, directing her to hold it in her hand, for
of course she could not strap it to her boot, and drive it into the
animal when he swerved. She took the spur, and as her pony, in one of
his side leaps, nearly bounded off the path, she struck him hard on the
ribs. He bolted and flew on far ahead of us.

The light grew stronger.

But that the rays were red, it would now have been as bright as day. We
were chasing our shadows, so the light must be directly behind us.
Mademoiselle Veret first noticed this, and drew my attention to it. I
looked back, and my heart sank at the sight. In the terror it inspired,
I regretted having burthened myself with the girl I had sworn to save.

The island was on fire!

"It is the end of the world," Mademoiselle Veret said with a shudder.
She clung closer to me. I could feel her warm breath upon my cheek. The
unmanly regret, which for a moment had touched me, passed.

The ponies now seemed to find out that their safety lay in galloping
straight on, rather than in scared leaps from side to side. They
stretched themselves like race horses, and gave my bay, with his double
burthen, a strong lead. The pace became terrible considering the nature
of the ground we covered.

At last the harbour came in view. But my horse, I knew, could not last
another mile, and the shore was still distant two or three. I spurred
him hard and drew nearly level with the ponies, so that my voice could
be heard by both their riders.

"Ride on," I shouted, "and hail the steamer, so that there may be no
delay when I come up. This horse is blown, and will not stand the pace.
I am going to ease him. You will go on board at once, and send the boat
back for us." Then I eased the bay, but in spite of this I immediately
overtook Edith Metford, who had pulled up.

My reproaches she cut short by saying, "If that horse does the