TIME'S FINGER 295 



disorder and confusion — poor fragments of the frame- 

 work of man and harmless beasts, sharing a common 

 fate. 



Though fast a prisoner, nothing to Uve on but hope 

 and fresh air, a sense of rehef, somehow, sometime, 

 established itself in my mind. Most of the significant 

 features of the adventure had been faithfully foretold 

 by Wylo — the prickl}^ bush, the snake (archetype of 

 the fiend), the mocking delusive stone, the stored bones 

 of man and beast — all as he had described. He must 

 have known more than he had voluntarily told, and 

 assuredly would he come, when he would coo-ee, and I 

 would shout for very joy. In the meantime would I 

 possess my soul in patience and conserve all the strength 

 of my lungs and power of endurance. 



Just beyond the platform of ferns a splash of lovely 

 tints illuminated the edge of the time-recording shadow — 

 the solar spectrum produced by the prism which had 

 beckoned from afar. Was there no escape from the 

 wizardry of the crystal ? No hope of evading comparison 

 of its beauty and permanence with the muddy and fleeting- 

 passions of mankind ? Yet how fruitless its functions 

 — to glorify for aeons the intractable rock, and to leave it 

 ever unstained ! For once in all the centuries may not 

 a human hand be interposed between those ineffectual 

 flames and the surly rock ? Cannot even that small 

 measure of space be overcome ? 



A few inches from the tips of my outstretched fingers 

 were the prismatic tints with which the cr3^stal dail}^ 

 registered the decline of the day; but not for all my 

 striving and all my wit could I get within reach. They 

 were as remote as the creating sun ! 



The narrowness of the cleft forbade effort to reach 

 down so that I might unlace my boots. There was but 

 one chance of deliverance — the coming of Wylo. And 



