“Oh, I’m not quite so bad as that, you know,” said Freeman, with a feeble laugh; and, to prove it, he blundered off the saddle, and came down on the ground with a thwack. He picked himself up, however, and recollecting that he had a flask with brandy in it, he felt for it, found it intact, and, with an inarticulate murmur of apology, raised it to his lips. It was like the veritable elixir of life: never in his life before had Freeman quaffed so deep a draught of the fiery spirit. It was just what he wanted. But he felt oddly embarrassed. He did not know what to make of Miriam. It was not her strange costume merely, but she seemed to have put on--or put off--something with it that made a difference in her. She was assertive, imperious; as loving, certainly, as lover could wish, but not in the manner of the Miriam he knew. He might have liked the new Miriam better, had he not previously fallen in love with the former one. He could not make advances to her: he had no opportunity to do so: she was making advances to him! “My love,” she said, standing before him, “I have come back to the world for your sake. Before Semitzin first saw you, her heart was yours. And I come to you, not poor, but with the riches and power of the princes of Tenochtitlan. You shall see them: they are yours!--Kamaiakan, take down the chest.” “What’s that about Semitzin?” inquired Freeman. “I’m not aware that I knew any such person.” “Kamaiakan!” repeated the other, raising her voice, and not hearing Freeman’s last words. Kamaiakan was nowhere to be seen. Both Freeman and she had supposed that he was following on behind the mule; but he had either dropped behind, or had withdrawn somewhere. “O Kamaiakan!” shouted Freeman, as loud as he could. A distant hail, from the direction of the desert, seemed to reply. “That can’t be he,” said Freeman. “It was at least a quarter of a mile off, and the wrong direction, too. He’s in the gorge, if he’s anywhere.” “Hark!” said Semitzin. They listened, and detected a low murmur, this time from the gorge. “He’s fallen down and hurt himself,” said Freeman. “Let’s go after him.” In a few moments they stumbled upon the old Indian, reclining with his shoulders against a rock, and gasping heavily. “My princess,” he whispered, as she bent over him, “I am dying. The poisonous air in the cave was fatal to me, though the spell that is upon the Golden Fleece protected you. I have done what the gods commanded. I am absolved of my vow. The treasure is safe.” “Nonsense! you’re all right!” exclaimed Freeman. “Here, take a pull at this flask. It did me all the good in the world!” But the old man put it aside, with a feeble gesture of the hand. “My time is come,----” said he.--“Semitzin, I have been faithful.” “Semitzin, again!” muttered Freeman. “What does it mean?” “But what is this?” cried the girl, suddenly starting to her feet. “I feel the sleep coming on me again! I feel Miriam returning! Kamaiakan, have you betrayed me at the last?”