The day quickly sped, and evening drew near, yet still they were upon the mountain road with no sight of Vairkingi or of any landmark familiar to either of them. Quivven was for stopping and resting, but Myles urged her on. “No matter how tired you are,” he said, “it is not safe to stop in this strange country.” So still she struggled on. The sky darkened without the usual pinkening of the west. All too well they knew what that portended—one of the heaven-splitting tropical storms so common on Poros. And they were right. The storm broke, the thunder roared in one continuous volume of sound, the lightning and the rain alike poured down in continuous sheets. The trail became a mountain torrent, so that they had to cease their journey and crawl upon a huge boulder, in order to avoid being engulfed by the water. The rain stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Again the silver sky appeared overhead. The extempore brook rapidly disappeared, but left in its wake a wet, muddy, and slippery trail, down which the two took up their journey once more. Several times Quivven stumbled and fell, until at last her companion had to help her in order to keep her going at all. But, in spite of this assistance, she finally broke down and cried. “I shall not go one step farther,” she asserted. Myles seated himself beside her and talked to her as one would soothe a child. And that was what she was, a tired little child. “You can’t stay here,” he urged, “the ground is damp, the night is coming on, and your fur is sopping wet.” “I don’t care anything about anything,” she sobbed. “All that I know is that I positively cannot go on.” So he decided that it would be necessary to change his tactics. “I am ashamed of you,” he replied, “You, the daughter of a king, and can’t stand a little exercise! Why, I believe you are just plain lazy.” For reply she jumped to her feet in a sudden rage. “Oh, you beast!” she cried. “You insulting beast! You common soldier, you! I’ll show you that I can stand as much hardship as the pampered womenfolk of your Cupia, though the men of my country, even our common soldiers, would be gentlemanly enough not to force a lady to endure any more than is absolutely necessary. Oh, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” “You are not being forced to endure more than is necessary,” her escort harshly replied. “In the first place it _is_ necessary to go on; and, in the second place, I am not forcing you. _You_ can go on or not, just as you see fit, but as for me, I don’t intend to spend the night here in this wet valley. Good-by!” For reply Quivven raced ahead of him with, “Oh, how I hate you!” and disappeared around a turn in the trail. XIII FURTHER PROGRESS His change of tactics had worked, although it made him feel like a brute. But only by arousing Quivven’s anger could he stir her to continue the journey; and to remain would have menaced her safety and her health.