She was fond of me—very; but she had killed the ideal. The passionate adoration that had caused me such misery was dead. Still she was the one woman in all the world I had ever really loved, and fickle, light, I may be, I could never forget her. I thought my heart would break when parting, and to me it seemed a criminal fate that ordained our lives should be separated; but later I realized it was all for the best; the exalted passion she inspired had vanished, and only exaltation could make love a delight to me. For Sheldon’s benefit we took the route north over the Ocstas so he could view the magnificent ruins of his great body of fresh water. The Otega was still in eruption. The earth around had dissolved like wax and half the range was leveled with the country; miles were buried beneath ashes and lava. Seventy-five miles farther north we came upon the encampment of the Octrogonas and Potolilis. The ship lowered and we spent several hours with the two tribes who were still at war, and still hoped to extinguish each other. Potolili’s beautiful daughter was still a prisoner, though Octrogona had wedded her; and Potolili had lost the wife whom Octrogona claimed as his sister. The Octrogonas openly declared she had been murdered, and the bitter feud waged savagely. Potolili fiercely declared he would extinguish his opponents. He ordered all prisoners slaughtered like cattle. Alpha shuddered. Potolili laughed cynically as he watched her, and said the world would become a moon before the supreme passion, Hate, became extinct. Both tribes loaded us with gifts, and each were sincere in wishing us luck. Potolili declared his race would in time travel beyond the Pole and join our people. We bade the warring chiefs farewell; even the savages of this country had become dear to us. As the atmosphere cleared, rarified to a penetrating distinctness, we could see hundreds of miles ahead. Centauri had passed from us forever; we were up in the snow regions, and far in the distance, like a gigantic shadow resting upon the vast whiteness, was the fearful, barren regions of the Pole, tipped by the violet, illusive, ice mountains that had led many an explorer to his death. The Centaurians traveling with us suffered intensely from the cold and had become strangely silent and sad; all dreaded the finale. Alpha’s vivaciousness was gone, the sweet face paled before the biting blast of the north, the glorious eyes clouded and drooped with weariness, yet watched my every movement with intense wistfulness—our last parting was near. The ship gradually sailed nearer the earth, then a few miles farther north the order was given to lower—the hour I dreaded had arrived. Alpha, breathing with difficulty, tremblingly clung to my arm. I caressed and tried to soothe her.