Desmond was breathing heavily, jerkily, the breath came like sobs from between his clenched teeth. Alan forced some of the brandy between his lips and said huskily, “Dez, old boy: don’t leave me, old chap; we’ve been through some tight corners, don’t give up yet.” Desmond struggled to a sitting position. “Good old Lanny,” he muttered. “I must see Masters,” said Alan. “Keep up, if you can, till I return.” Alan reeled from side to side in his weakness as he struggled on to Masters’ cabin. It was empty! He was almost too weak to think or act coherently. “Masters,” he moaned. “Where are you?” Slowly he made his way back to the little room in the bows, and as he neared it, a brilliant beam of light shot across his path. The unexpectedness of it threw him off his balance, and he would have fallen, had not Masters rushed forward and put his arm about him. The light was strong. So strong that they could feet the heat of its rays through the little glass window. “What is it?” he asked. Masters could hardly speak. His lips were swollen and blackened, and his tongue parched. “Help,” said he thickly. “That light is like a magnet—it is drawing us somewhere. It’s sent out by human agency I am sure. See how it flutters and fades, only to come bright again.” They watched the ray—it was focussed directly on the bows, and it seemed to be drawing them closer and closer to some harbour of refuge. Still they were going through the encircling clouds, which had suddenly turned to a most beautiful roseate hue. Then without any warning they emerged and found they were gazing on the most wonderful scene they had ever beheld. It was more wonderful than their thoughts could have expressed. Imagine hovering over the most wondrous piece of natural scenery—double—treble its beauty, and even then you could have no idea of the grandeur, the poetry of the picture they gazed upon. They were, perhaps, three thousand feet up. Mountains rose all round with rocky crevasses, and wonderful waterfalls dashing down their sides. Foaming waters trickled and bubbled and laughed by the sides of grassy paths. An inland lake glowed in the glory of the sunshine. Trees of all kinds nestled in the valleys and climbed the hillsides. A sea—a glorious azure sea—with dancing waves and white flecked foam rolled merrily in and out on wonderful white sands. There were rocks and caves, and velvety grass slopes along the sea shore; babbling brooks merged into the blue, blue waters; tall lilies, virginal white, mingled with roses, red like wine, and grew in clusters at the water’s edge. All was nature at her best—unspoiled by man. Wooded islets were dotted about in still more wonderful bays; birds white as snow, birds with plumage rainbow-hued floated idly on the waters, and added to the picturesque beauty. They could see little buildings nestling among the trees here and there, buildings that, like the châlets of Switzerland, only added to the beauty of the scene.