Suddenly Lindela started up. A sharp wringing pain, seeming to begin on the left shoulder, went through her frame. It spread--down her arm--then through to the other shoulder--down the other arm. What was it? A cramp caught from the treacherous chill of the humid soil? Perhaps. Well, it would soon pass. Then Laurence began to stir in his sleep. The sight made her forget her pain. He must not awaken; he needed rest. Noiselessly plucking a leafy branch she went over to him and began softly to fan him. This was effective. His even, regular breathing told that he slumbered peacefully, restfully, once more. Soon she became aware that her powers were failing her. Her arm seemed to become cramped, paralyzed, and a mist floated before her eyes. What did it mean? Her lips opened to call aloud--then closed, uttering no sound. Why should he be disturbed because she was suffering a little pain? thought this savage--this daughter of a race of savage kings. But the mist deepened before her failing vision. She swayed where she sat, then fell heavily forward--upon him--the branch wherewith she had been fanning him striking him sharply across the face. Laurence sprang to his feet, unconsciously throwing her from him. His first impression was that he had been surprised in his sleep by an enemy. "Lindela! What is it?" he cried, raising her up and supporting her. And then his dark face turned a livid ashen white--for with the dull stupor which lay heavy in the usually bright eyes, his own had rested upon something else. The shapely shoulder was swollen to an abnormal size, and at the back of it were two small round punctures. "She has been bitten. A snake, of course," he muttered. "And it is too late." "Yes, it is too late, Nyonyoba," she murmured. "Yet I do not think I have been bitten--not by a snake, or I should have known it." "But you have been. When was this? Why did you not awaken me?" And his voice startled even himself, so fierce was it in its grief. "Why should I awaken you, beloved, you who needed rest?" she murmured, groping for his hand. "Yes, it is too late. It was some time ago. I thought it was a cramp, but I must have been bitten." Laurence was thinking--and thinking hard. What remedy was there? None. It was even as she had said--too late. The poison had penetrated her whole system. "I am dying, beloved--and shall soon go into the Dark Unknown----" she murmured, more drowsily than before. "Yet it matters nothing, for those of our nation do not fear death. And listen. I heard the Arab's proposal to you, and your answer thereto--yet, when you returned to your people, what would have become of me?" [Illustration: "I AM DYING, BELOVED--AND SHALL SOON GO INTO THE DARK UNKNOWN."]