He grew bewildered, uncertain of his own identity, doubting of his
own true form. He could not be really a man, no more than that
running Thing was really a woman; his real form was only hidden
under embodiment of a man, but what it was he did not know. And
Sweyn's real form he did not know. Sweyn lay fallen at his feet,
where he had struck him down--his own brother--he: he stumbled
over him, and had to overleap him and race harder because she who
had kissed Sweyn leapt so fast. "Sweyn, Sweyn, O Sweyn!"

Why did the stars stop to shudder? Midnight else had surely come!

The leaning, leaping Thing looked back at him with a wild, fierce
look, and laughed in savage scorn and triumph. He saw in a flash
why, for within a time measurable by seconds she would have
escaped him utterly. As the land lay, a slope of ice sunk on the
one hand; on the other hand a steep rose, shouldering forwards;
between the two was space for a foot to be planted, but none for a
body to stand; yet a juniper bough, thrusting out, gave a handhold
secure enough for one with a resolute grasp to swing past the
perilous place, and pass on safe.

Though the first seconds of the last moment were going, she dared
to flash back a wicked look, and laugh at the pursuer who was
impotent to grasp.

[Illustration: The Finish]

The crisis struck convulsive life into his last supreme effort;
his will surged up indomitable, his speed proved matchless yet. He