So, slipping, struggling, fighting, he forced his way, and, like Diamond, he was guided by an instinct that could not err.  Thirty seconds after they left it, the hut on the sand was swept away by the hungry waters, but those thirty seconds had been their salvation.  They had reached the point where the ground began to rise towards the kopje, and though the water still washed around them the force of it was decreasing at every step,

As they reached the foot of the kopje itself, a stream of moonlight suddenly rushed down through the racing clouds, revealing the whole great waste of water like a picture flung upon a screen.

Burke’s breath came thick and laboured; yet he spoke.  “We are saved!” he said.

“Put me down now!” she urged.  “Please put me down!”

But still he would not, till he had climbed above the seething flood, and could set her feet upon firm ground.  And even then he clasped her still, as if he feared to let her go.

They stood in silence, holding fast to one another while the moonlight flickered in and out, and Burke’s heart gradually steadied again after the terrific struggle.  The rain had almost ceased.  Only the sound of the flood below and the gurgle of a hundred rivulets around filled the night.

Sylvia’s arm pressed upon Burke’s neck.  “Shall we go—­right to the top?” she said.

“The top of what?” He turned and looked into her eyes as she stood above him.

She bent to him swiftly, throbbing, human, alive.  She held his face between her hands, looking straight back for a space.  Then with a little quivering laugh, she bent lower and kissed him.

“I think you’re right, partner,” she said.  “We don’t need to go—­any farther than this.  We’ve—­got there.”

He caught her to him with a mastery that was dearer to her in that moment than any tenderness, swaying her to his will.  “Yes—­we’ve got there!” he said, and kissed her again with lips that trembled even while they compelled.  “But oh, my soul—­what a journey!”

She clung to him more closely, giving of her all in full and sweet surrender.  “And oh, my soul,” she laughed back softly—­“what an arrival!”

And at that they laughed together, triumphant as those who have the world at their feet.

CHAPTER XIII

BY FAITH AND LOVE

The flood went down in the morning, and behind it there sprang into being a new world of softest, tenderest green in place of the brown, parched desert that had been.  Mary Ann stood at the door of her hut and looked at it with her goggle-eyes in which the fright of the storm was still very apparent.

Neither she nor her satellites would go near the house of the baas that morning, for a dread shadow lay upon it into which they dared not venture.  The baas himself was there.  He had driven her into the cooking-hut a little earlier and compelled her to prepare a hot meal under his stern supervision.  But even the baas could not have forced her to enter the bungalow.  For by some occult means Mary Ann knew that Death was waiting there, and the wrath of the gods was so recent that she had not courage left for this new disaster.