Up this tortuous trail Rhoda staggered, closely followed by DeWitt. At a level spot the girl paused.
"Water, John! Water!" she cried.
The two threw themselves down and drank of the bubbling spring until they could hold no more. Then Rhoda lay down on the sun-warmed rocks and sleep overwhelmed her.
She opened her eyes to stare into a yellow moon that floated liquidly above her. Whether she had slept through a night and a day or whether but a few hours had elapsed since she had staggered to the spring beside which she lay, she could not tell. She lay looking up into the sky languidly, but with clear mind. A deep sigh roused her. DeWitt sat on the other side of the spring, rubbing his eyes.
"Hello!" he said in a hoarse croak. "How did we land here?"
"I led us here sometime in past ages. When or how, quién sabe?" answered Rhoda. "John, we must find food somehow."
"Drink all the water you can, Rhoda." said DeWitt; "it helps some, and I'll pot a rabbit. What a fool I am. You poor girl! More hardships for you!"
Rhoda dipped her burning face into the water, then lifted it, dripping.
"If only you won't be delirious, John, I can stand the hardships."
DeWitt looked at the girl curiously.
"Was I delirious? And you were alone, leading me across that Hades out there? Rhoda dear, you make me ashamed of myself!"
"I don't see how you were to blame," answered Rhoda stoutly. "Think what you have been doing for me!"
John rose stiffly.
"Do you feel equal to climbing this trail with me, to find where we are, or had you rather stay here?"
"I don't want to stay here alone," answered Rhoda.
Very slowly and weakly they started up the trail. The spring was on a broad stone terrace. Above it rose another terrace weathered and disrupted until in the moonlight it looked like an impregnable castle wall, embattled and embuttressed. But clinging to the seemingly invulnerable fortress was the trail, a snake-like shadow in the moonlight.
"Perhaps we had better stay at the spring until morning," suggested Rhoda, her weak legs flagging.
"Not with the hope of shelter a hundred feet above us," answered John firmly. "This trail is worn six inches into the solid rock. My guess is that there are some inhabitants here. It's queer that they haven't discovered us."
Slowly and without further protest, Rhoda followed DeWitt up the trail. Deep-worn and smooth though it was, they accomplished their task with infinite difficulty. Rhoda, stumbling like a sleep-sodden child, wondered if ever again she was to accomplish physical feats with the magical ease with which Kut-le had endowed her.