There was no time to lose. His was not a fourth of the distance to travel; but the road was fearful, and a cold chilling feeling of despair fell upon him as, in making a spring upwards, he trod upon some loose stones, lost his footing, and fell heavily, rolling down some twenty feet into a rift, where, as he slowly gathered himself together and began to climb once more, the sobs of anguish forced themselves from his breast, and tears of weak misery coursed down his cheeks. And now, grown more cautious--and knowing that, would he reach the summit, it could only be by husbanding his strength--he climbed on and on, every minute finding the way more arduous, and tangled with the majestic luxuriant growth of the country. Far up to the left he could see the moonbeams glittering on the snowy peaks, while to his right again towered a high mass. Could he but keep to the path that should lead him to the rift between, he might be in time--might warn them; but despair whispered "No" the next moment, as difficulty after difficulty met him at every step. Rock, loose stone, thorny undergrowth, which tore his clothes and flesh; huge ferns, whose old frond stumps tripped him up again and again; creepers with snake-like branches: all had to be encountered; but the moon gave him a friendly light, and he was enabled to win his way, now faster, now slower, till, leaning again to rest upon a moonlit crag, whence he could look down upon his burning home, he started and shrank back into the darkness; for a faint noise below struck his ear, was repeated again and again, and he knew that he was followed. His breath came thickly, as he felt how unavailing had been his efforts: but a moment before he had thought that he should win his way to the top, even if he should only be in time to witness a similar destruction to that going on at his feet; but now he felt that he was to be shot down, perhaps dashed into some rift, and stones hurled upon him; and maddened with despair, he sought for a weapon of defence. Crash! there was the sound of a piece of rock loosened; and then again the rustling sound, plainly borne on the night air, as some one forced his way higher and higher. What should he do? Wait and close with his adversary unarmed, trying to take him at some disadvantage, or should he toil on and try to outstrip him? The last he felt would be folly; for sooner or later, while passing over some moonlit spot, he would only become a plainer mark for his foe. He would stay and meet him there, beat him back with one of the masses of lava at his feet, if he were seen, or else let him pass on, and then seek out some other way.