Chlorie, tied tightly to the tree, was unable to move. Her wide open eyes followed the fighters in an agony of spirit; but not a sound came from her lips. True to the tradition of her land, the daughter of the Rorka gave no audible sign of her terror. Alan knew he was weakening. Imperceptibly at first he lost ground, but gradually he realized that his blows had no effect upon the Keemarnian. His hasty rush into the field of battle was worse than useless—he could no longer help his love. The Keemarnian gave him one terrific blow in the stomach. His wind went—he gasped, choked for breath, crumpled up and sank to the ground. Kulmervan left his vanquished enemy’s side and went to Waiko who had been stupidly watching the scene. “Watch him,” he commanded. “If he show any sign of awakening, give him a blow with this. It will be sufficient to put him to sleep again,” and he tossed the heavy stick beside the prostrate body. Brutally he untied the ropes that bound Chlorie. She was stiff and weak, and the agony as the blood once more coursed freely through her veins, was almost more than she could bear. Still she remained silent, and with a noble gesture of majesty, stooped, and drew her mantle of blue about her naked body. Two other garments still lay on the ground—with a sudden thought she caught one up, and drew it within the folds of her cloak. She had a plan! Love had been born to her, in that exquisite moment of agony when she saw Alan knocked down. Her soul cried out within her that here was her mate at last. Her fine sense of belief and trust told her that it was impossible that he was sleeping the sleep of serquor. Sometime he would rise again—bruised, bleeding, torn, perhaps, but rise he would, and come to her aid. Kulmervan took her roughly by the arm. “Come,” said he. “Waiko wait until the Kymo is full in the Heavens—it is but a short time. If Alan the Evil has not moved by then, follow me quickly. Always to the East, my friend. Always take the most easterly path, and you will find me.” “Where are you going?” asked Waiko in horror. “To the Cave of Whispering Madness,” said he, and involuntarily Chlorie shuddered. “Do you know where it is, my Kulmervan?” asked Waiko. “Yes. Have I not been there often? Ah, my friend, I arranged that the engines should fail. Ah, oft times should I have been in the Hall of Sorrows, but I came here instead, and of my own free will. I know the place I intend taking you to—I will show you sights—sights I have seen—ha! ha! ha!” and with a wild burst of laughter he dragged his unwilling captive through the bushes, and made his way Eastward.