“I shall go back to Venus,” said I, in a determined manner.

“Tut, tut,” said Gazen, with a good-natured smile; “you had better give up that idea.  You are clearly the victim of hypnotic influence—­of suggestion.  By-and-by it will lose its hold on you, and you will regain your freedom of action.”

“Never!” I exclaimed, with all the energy of my soul.  “My dear Gazen, you are quite mistaken in supposing anything of the kind.  I was never saner in my life.  Nay, it is only now that I know what it is to be sane; what life was meant to be.  Hypnotic suggestion!  Pshaw!  I know what I am doing as well as you do.  I am not a fool.  I am only seeking my own happiness—­and hers—­I tell you that a single moment in her society is worth a whole lifetime on the earth.  What do I say?  A lifetime?  An eternity.  Heaven itself were nothing to me without her.  I would not take it as a gift.  I shall go back.  I must go back.  I cannot live without her.”

“Take time to consider at all events,” said Gazen, somewhat impressed by my vehemence.  “In the meantime let us join Miss Carmichael.  She is beyond the rocks there sketching the valley.”

We walked in that direction.

“You may return to the earth,” said I; “but on the way you must drop me at Venus.”

Gazen had no opportunity of answering, for just at that moment we were startled by a piercing shriek from behind the crags, and rushing, or rather bounding forward, saw a sight that made our very blood run cold.

A flying monster, with enormous bat-like wings and hanging legs, was evidently swooping down on Miss Carmichael, as she stood beside her easel on the brow of the cliff.

“Run for your life!” roared Gazen, dashing towards her with frantic speed.

Alas! she did not hear him, or else she was fascinated by the approaching horror, and rooted to the spot.  He was still several hundred yards from her, but owing to the feebleness of gravity on the planet he was so preternaturally light and nimble that he might have covered the distance in a minute or so, had he been more accustomed to control his limbs, and the ground been smoother.  As it was he leaped high into the air, and rebounded from the stones like an india-rubber ball, at the risk of spraining his ankles or breaking his neck, while brandishing his arms, and firing his pistol, and hooting with all his force of lung to frighten away the monster.

Too late.  The huge leathery wings of the dragon overshadowed the shrinking form of the girl, and the talons of its drooping feet caught in her dress.  She made one desperate, but futile effort to free herself from its terrible clutch, and, screaming loudly for help, was borne away over the abyss of the valley as easily as a lamb is carried by an eagle.

“Oh, Heaven!” cried Gazen, stopping with a gesture of despair.

He was deeply moved, and pale as death; but he did not altogether lose his head.