but no sound came. He struggled to rise, but his legs
would not bear his weight. Helpless, he sank against
the casing. The girl walked to his feet, bent, placed a
hand on each of his shoulders, and smiled into his eyes.
He could scent the flower-like odour of her body and
wrapping, even her hair. He struggled frantically to
speak to her as she leaned closer, yet closer, and softly
but firmly laid lips of pulsing sweetness on his in a
deliberate kiss.

The Harvester was on his feet now. Belshazzar shrank
into the shadows.

``Come back!'' cried the man. ``Come back! For
the love of mercy, where are you?''

He ran stumblingly toward the lake. The bridge of
gold was there, the little owl cried lonesomely; and did
he see or did he only dream he saw a mist of white vanishing
in the opposite wood?

His breath came between dry lips, and he circled the
cabin searching eagerly, but he could find nothing, hear
nothing, save the dog at his heels. He hurried to the
stoop and stood gazing at the molten path of moonlight.
One minute he was half frozen, the next a rosy glow
enfolded him. Slowly he lifted a hand and touched his
lips. Then he raised his eyes from the water and swept
the sky in a penetrant gaze.