flames danced to the very roof in the blue light of dawn, and hobgoblin
shadows leapt and capered about us. Then once more I sat down on the
opposite side of the blaze, resting my chin upon my hands, and stared
into the frozen eyes of that grim stranger, who, with his chin upon his
knees, stared back at me with irresistible, remorseless steadfastness.

He was as fresh as if he had died but yesterday, yet by his clothing and
something in his appearance, which was not that of the Martian of to-day,
I knew he might be many thousand years old. What things he had seen,
what wonders he knew! What a story might be put into his mouth if I
were a capable writer gifted with time and imagination instead of a poor
outcast, ill-paid lieutenant whose literary wit is often taxed hardly
to fill even a log-book entry! I stared at him so long and hard, and
he at me through the blinking flames, that again I dozed--and dozed--and
dozed again until at last when I woke in good earnest it was daylight.

By this time hunger was very aggressive. The fire was naught but a
circlet of grey ashes; the dead king, still sitting against the cave-side,
looked very blue and cold, and with an uncomfortable realisation of my
position I shook myself together, picked up and pocketed without much
thought the queer gold circlet that had dropped from his forehead,
and went outside to see what prospect of escape the new day had brought.

It was not much. Upriver there was not the remotest chance. Not even
a Niagara steamer could have forged back against the sluice coming
down from the gulch there. Looking round, the sides of the icy
amphitheatre--just lighting up now with glorious gold and crimson
glimmers of morning--were as steep as a wall face; only back towards
the falls was there a possibility of getting out of the dreadful trap,
so thither I went, after a last look at the poor old king, along my