“Because you love her? I am,” said Kulmervan thickly, “and I say this—if you so much as dare to raise your eyes to her, if you dare to address her, I’ll make you suffer for it—aye, even though I also suffer eternally for it,” and with that he turned on his heel and walked quickly away. Alan was very perturbed about this meeting, and felt inclined to tell the story of it to Waz-Y-Kjesta,—yet the sacred feeling he had for Chlorie was not to be spoken of, or bandied about from man to man. No, he would keep it to himself, and trust to time and common sense to cure Kulmervan of his strange hatred. He walked quickly on, and already could see the air birds in the distance, circling above their houses. The little lane turned quickly at right angles—there was a steep descent, and hedges rose at either side to a height of six or seven feet, while the overhanging branches of the trees met in the middle and formed a leafy arch. The grassy banks were carpeted with flowers, and the scent hung sweet on the air. Again the narrow path turned sharply to the right, and before Alan realized it, there almost at his feet, stretched across almost the full width of the path, lay a lion, full grown, with his shaggy mane stirring in the breeze. Alan stopped suddenly, and his heart beat quickly. The lion’s eyes were closed—he was sleeping. The Englishman was almost afraid to move lest the savage beast should spring upon him and devour him. He looked round to the right, the bough of a tree hung low over the path. He leapt up the bank, and with one mighty spring caught hold of it, and swarmed up to a topmost branch. He was safe—but the sudden sound had startled the lion, who rose up and with a low growl prowled backward and forward beneath the tree. It was an uncomfortable position to be in—the tree bough was very thin, and bent and twisted and crackled ominously. Still the King of Beasts remained sentinel underneath. Alan felt the perspiration on his face as the limb shivered and bent, yet there was no other to which he could move. Still the animal remained near, his quickened senses no doubt wondering at the noise he heard, and waiting to see what had caused it. The minutes dragged by—the branch was weakening perceptibly—he could already see the white of the inside where the branch was gradually tearing away from the parent trunk. There was no one in sight, and still the lion walked restlessly to and fro. The Kymo was sinking rapidly. It was already low down on the horizon, and Alan knew he had been about two English hours in his perilous position. He saw a branch above his head, and he wormed his way along to see if he could in any way reach it. Carefully he went—slowly—suddenly with a scream and a crash the branch gave way, and Alan felt himself being hurled to the ground.