heart--but this time with the joy of one who is swept up from the
very threshold of hell into paradise.





CHAPTER XXXV

"Larry--Farewell!"


"My heart, Larry--" It was the handmaiden's murmur. "My heart feels
like a bird that is flying from a nest of sorrow."

We were pacing down the length of the bridge, guards of the _Akka_
beside us, others following with those companies of _ladala_ that had
rushed to aid us; in front of us the bandaged Rador swung gently
within a litter; beside him, in another, lay Nak, the frog-king--much
less of him than there had been before the battle began, but living.

Hours had passed since the terror I have just related. My first task
had been to search for Throckmartin and his wife among the fallen
multitudes strewn thick as autumn leaves along the flying arch of
stone, over the cavern ledge, and back, back as far as the eye could
reach.

At last, Lakla and Larry helping, we found them. They lay close to
the bridge-end, not parted--locked tight in each other's arms, pallid
face to face, her hair streaming over his breast! As though when that