“Ben Hu Barabe and Alcyesta are in Tlamco,” said Akaza. “They alone of all the Monbas survived the visitation of the fire-spirits.” “We knew as much from the terrible rocking still going on in their country. The water has deserted the rivers everywhere, and is making new places where it has not sunk into the earth. Didst thou see the dread messenger in the heavens near the place of Venus?” “Yes; and it will soon make the house of Mars, and then there will be contention in Tlamco.” “How fares Yermah, the beloved of Kerœcia?” “Thy heart will be wrung by sight of him. Reason fled for many days. But it is decreed otherwise, and he will soon find peace. Farewell! I go to fulfill an obligation,” said Akaza, embracing the weary travelers. “Commiseration and surcease of care be thy portion.” “May the Divine bring thee speedily on thy journey!” they said with one accord. “We will pray the Azes to afford us shelter.” “Thy petition will be quickly answered. Thou wilt find them altered and distraught, but in bodily health.” They crowded into the boats kept on the Oakland shores for such emergencies, but in their half-famished condition they made poor headway against the choppy sea. Akaza went back over much of the same ground traversed in visiting the Yo-Semite Valley. Where possible, he went due east, facing the rising place of the sun. A less stout heart would have been appalled by the devastation and ruin all around him. The rivers in many places had been lifted out of their courses, and changed about in an almost incomprehensible manner. Mountains and forests no longer afforded shelter to the huge animals of that time. On his way into Calaveras County, Akaza saw herds of mastodons with their tongues lolled out, in company with elephants and elk huddled together around a spring of fresh water. He encountered many a fierce grizzly bear so nearly famished as to be unable to harm him. Wolves and panthers were dead and dying by the hundreds, and the rhinoceros and hippopotami had great raw cracks in their backs because of the extreme heat and the dryness of the atmosphere. No tongue can picture the thrilling and inspiring condition of the heavens. The mountain peaks continued to send up streams of hot air, which mingling with the cool breezes from the sea, brought about gales and storms of incalculable velocity, with all the drying capacity of a furnace blast. The upper air was an amphitheater of gorgeous electric effects. Streaks of lightning as big as the body of a tree licked out their long tongues, or darted with deadly effect among the ashes and smoke, which rolled in and out over the crest of the Sierras, scattering a sediment broadcast for miles. The heavy cannonading of the upper strata of air could never be compared to the weak peals and crashes of a thunderstorm, and yet not a drop of water fell to ease the sufferings of the creatures who still lived.