“Well, folks, I’s on de war-pat’,” Jim said, handling his crutch in a peculiar manner, “an’ now I’s goin’ ter giver yer a s’prise! Kin’ly turn yer backs, all han’s, till I makes me prep-rations; an’ don’ look eroun’ till I gives de word! No peepin’ now! Abbry-cadabbry! Presto change! As yer was! What d’yer t’ink o’ dat?”
The others had indulged his humor, and now faced about again. How it had happened only Jim and perhaps the little Nature people could have told; but there Jim sat on a superb black stallion, which tossed its head, shook out its tail, and unfolded a pair of wings so wide and powerful that they seemed capable of bearing him from one end of the solar system to the other. The beautiful creature danced impatiently on its dainty hoofs, and seemed eager to be off.
“Well done, Jim! Good fortune! Safe return!” they cried; and the Nature people set up a joyful shout.
Jim settled himself in the saddle, and handled the reins with professional assurance. “Keep yer eye on de boss!” were his last words. He waved his hand, the horse gave a mighty sweep with his wings, and steed and rider bounded splendidly into the air.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE BLACK MAGIC
JACK, seated in a corner of the silver bench, kept his eyes upon the column of blue vapor that rose upward from the smoldering fire in the font. But his mind was filled with somber thoughts of Miriam, and he was only superficially conscious either of the incantation or of Zarga. Of Miriam’s faith he had no doubts; but as little could he question that Torpeon had by some means contrived to convey her to his stronghold. He could not think that Zarga would willfully mislead him upon that point, though he had indignantly rejected her suggestion that Miriam had consented to it; the idea that the Saturnian maiden was herself infatuated with him could not find entrance into his straight-forward mind; his own simple loyalty kept him from suspecting others. What the incantation might reveal was a matter of conjecture, but he did not so much as allow himself to imagine that it would present Miriam in any other light than as the soul of love and faith.
The music swept out in penetrating waves, the notes vibrating insistently upon the ear with a sweet but almost intolerable monotony; but the monotony gradually became a source of fascination. It seemed to enter into his blood and control the pulsations of his heart; it had the effect of a seductive but suffocating perfume, against the influence of which one might struggle at first, but at last found an exotic delight in yielding. It soothed the outward senses, but wrought a strange excitement within. Zarga had resumed her mystic dance, and now he followed her movements with dreamy intentness; she had ceased to be a distinct personality to him, but was a part of the general scene, and represented in movement what the rest imparted by color, form and sound. Her body and limbs, exquisite in their supple eloquence, swayed and shifted like the waving of slender fronds in tropic gardens, or the rhythm of fairy surf lapsing on coral beaches. She seemed far away, yet thrillingly near; and her face, as it was recurrently turned toward him in the turnings of the dance, had the spell of beauty alternately revealed and withdrawn into the magic shadows of memory. He felt the gaze of her dark eyes more poignantly in its absence than when turned upon him.
Once more the dancer halted suddenly, with arms uplifted, and the music sang its insistent song no more. There came a volley of staccato sounds, as of a startled nightingale, and the column of vapor was agitated and broken into revolving wreaths. These twisted themselves together, forming huge figures vaguely outlined, lit by fitful gleams from the embers in the font. Zarga turned and ran swiftly toward Jack, crouching, and pressing her fingers against her temples. “It is coming—it is coming!” she cried; “put your strength round me—let me come inside your arm! I am afraid of what I’ve done!”
Jack, disconcerted, drew himself erect on the bench; but the vaporous forms now shaping themselves above the font so commanded his attention that he hardly noticed how Zarga nestled against him, warm, panting, and tremulous, like a bird seeking refuge; how her head lay on his breast, and the flexible fingers of her hand touched his face and wound themselves in his hair. His arm was about her, and from an involuntary protecting impulse he patted her shoulder; but he was absorbed in the scene before him.
The smoke-figures, condensing, appeared no longer gigantic, but assumed the stature of life. Two human apparitions were together, a man and a woman. More than their sex could not at first be determined; they sat facing each other in a deep alcove, disclosed by a semblance of draperies that hung on either side. The coloring of life, faint in the beginning, gained depth, as if an artist were adding to his gray outline more vivid touches from his palette. The living picture acquired each moment greater definition; from point to point the outlines and contours settled into certainty; and Jack’s lips grew dry as he recognized more and more unmistakably the proportions and movements of the woman he loved. For the other figure he had as yet no eyes, but he knew it could represent no other than Torpeon. His beloved, and his enemy, seated there face to face and hands in hands!