“Oghi! Here, sir!” called the Dorado, recovering the chain which had been dragged through the mud. “How could he get in here?” “We will tie him to one of the brass staples leaded into the wall at the entrance,” returned Akaza, “and then we can find out.” Oghi made no resistance as he was led to the spot indicated. “He has dug in under these shutters,” said Yermah, as he held the light so that his companion could see. “How could he have known I was here?” As he spoke the ocelot shook himself, and was about to lie down. “Let me fix him a bed,” said his master; “he is a good fellow. There sir!” Hastily gathering up some rush mats, Yermah threw them down in a pile. Oghi could not say “Thank you,” but he signified it the best way that he could. With a final affectionate pat on the head, Yermah turned and followed Akaza. “Come to bed with me,” he urged. “Conscience forbids my sleeping while thou art denied rest.” Akaza yielded to persuasion; and when Yermah had deftly tucked the rugs about him, and placed the cushions, after shaking them up thoroughly, so that Akaza declared himself comfortable, he extinguished all lights but one, and cuddled up close beside the elder man, with his right arm thrown protectingly over him. A few moments afterward, both were fast asleep. CHAPTER FIFTEEN A TRIUMPH—AND A WORDLESS COVENANT On leaving Tlamco, Kerœcia was carried up the Sacramento River by the fleet of the Azes, until nearly opposite the mouth of Antelope Creek, where she was met by a company of Monbas warriors and given escort to Anokia, their capital city, situated south of Lassen Peak. At a distance of from five to eight miles from the false base of the Sierras, is a range of isolated hills which form an irregular belt of elevation, separated from the main chain by an intervening plain. It was here that Anokia was built, in a rocky amphitheater at the head of a stream which flows back directly northeast from its source toward the axis of the principal mountain chain. The kettle-like form at the head of the valley opened on the north, and extended in a huge semi-circle to the river below. Opposite the opening stood Lassen Peak, either as a grim protector, or in frowning distrust, according to the interpretation given to the mountain’s inscrutable mood. There were several small domes and pinnacles on the east side of the peak, and, in some places, the granite rim formed a beautifully striped parapet of bedded rock. Portions of the stone were thin enough for the sunlight to penetrate the crevices, and to throw faint but effective shadows on the layers of brilliant colors. The more solid sections of the wall afforded a magnificent view of the surrounding crest of the Sierras which here spread out like a giant harrow overturned against the vast horizon.