Polaris leaped over the body of his fallen foe and stood, peering about him with quick glances. As his eyes became accustomed to the half light in the cavern, he saw the princess lying across the dying monster, her long black hair disheveled and mingled with the snowy fur of the brute. He stooped and caught up the girl and laid her gently to one side, where the beast in the throes of dissolution might not do her harm. Looking beyond her, he saw the small room hung with skins, saw the six gray dogs crouched in leash, every burning eye turned on him, and, at the farther side of the room, saw the long, broad form of a man lying loose flung across a low pallet, his head hanging over its side. All that he saw, and then from the dusk along the wall of the passage a gaunt, gray form reared up in his path, and he forgot all else. "Pallas!" he cried. "Pallas! Are you come back from the dead?" Taking a stiff step forward, the dog gathered all the strength in her weakening frame and raised herself on her hind legs. She set her forepaws against the breast of the master loved so well and, whining, strove to look into his face. Her eyes were glazing, and the blood was spurting fast from a ghastly wound in her neck. "No, my Pallas, you are no ghost--but soon will be," Polaris said with breaking voice. "I find you, and I lose you." He steadied the dog with his strong hands and laid her cold muzzle against his cheek. With each gasping breath she tried to bark her joy, but she was too weak. A low howl burst from her lungs that carried with it a world of glad greeting, affection, and farewell. She shuddered, her head drooped, and her limbs relaxed. "Good-by, Pallas," whispered the master. He lowered the limp body to the floor and stepped forward, wet-eyed, to explore the other wonders of the cave. First he carried the unconscious girl into the room and laid her on one of the large chests, drawing a blanket over her. Crouching along the wall, where they were tied fast to a beam, the six children of Pallas watched his every motion, their hackles erect, their teeth bared. He ran his eyes approvingly over their powerful forms, and noted with a smile the leathern harness that hung on the beam. "You serve a master who has trained you well," he muttered. "Soon you and I shall be fast friends." * * * * * Approaching the pallet, Polaris took the man who lay there by the shoulders and turned him over, placing his head back on its pillow. He started with surprise when, despite the emaciation of sickness and a ten days' growth of beard, he recognized the well-remembered features of the Sardanian king. "You, too, Minos?" he exclaimed. "Truly, the ways of fate are strange." A touch of the hand told him that the heart of the king still beat. He glanced around the room. The fireplace, with its dead ashes, told its story. For the first time he realized the cold of the place.