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He had scarcely said it, when he repented nor did he regret it the less when he found that Photogen made no reply. But alas! said was said. "Then," said Photogen to himself, "that contemptible beast is one of the terrors of sundown, of which Madam Watho spoke!" He hunted all day, but not with his usual spirit. He did not ride so hard, and did not kill one buffalo.
As the sun rose, the wind slowly changed and went round, until it blew straight from the north. Photogen and Nycteris were drawing near the edge of the forest, Photogen still carrying Nycteris, when she moved a little on his shoulder uneasily, and murmured in his ear, "I smell a wild beast that way, the way the wind is coming."
Photogen went up to the wolf. It was a monster! But he was vexed that his first arrow had behaved so badly, and was the less willing to lose the one that had done him such good service: with a long and a strong pull, he drew it from the brute's chest. Could he believe his eyes? There lay no wolf, but Watho, with her hair tied round her waist!
The terrible light stings so!" But the same instant, through her blindness, she heard Photogen give a low exultant laugh, and the next wit herself caught up: she who all night long had tended and protected him like a child, was now in his arms, borne along like a baby, with her head lying on his shoulder. But she was the greater, for, suffering more, she feared nothing.
But the arrow was in the brute's chest, up to the feather; it tumbled heels over head with a great thud of its back on the earth, gave a groan, made a struggle or two, and lay stretched out motionless. "I've killed it, Nycteris," cried Photogen. "It is a great red wolf." "Oh, thank you!" answered Nycteris feebly from behind the tree. "I was sure you would. I was not a bit afraid."
"It is so horribly dark!" said Photogen, who, listening while she spoke, had satisfied himself that there was no roaring. "Dark!" she echoed. "You should be in my room when an earthquake has killed my lamp. I do not understand. How can you call this dark? Let me see: yes, you have eyes, and big ones, bigger than Madam Watho's or Falca's not so big as mine, I fancy only I never saw mine.
Will you watch me, and take care of me?" "Yes, that I will," answered Nycteris, forgetting all her own danger. So Photogen fell asleep. There Nycteris sat, and there the youth lay, all night long, in the heart of the great cone-shadow of the earth, like two Pharaohs in one pyramid. Photogen slept, and slept; and Nycteris sat motionless lest she should wake him, and so betray him to his fear.
"Don't leave me; oh, don't leave me!" cried Nycteris. "I am dying! I am dying! I cannot move. The light sucks all the strength out of me. And oh, I am so frightened!" But already Photogen had splashed through the river, holding high his bow that it might not get wet. He rushed across the level, and strained up the opposing hill. Hearing no answer, Nycteris removed her hands.
But hardly had one of them passed, before Nycteris had come to love the day best, because it was the clothing and crown of Photogen, and she saw that the day was greater than the night, and the sun more lordly than the moon; and Photogen had come to love the night best, because it was the mother and home of Nycteris.
You must be a brave girl, and " "A girl!" shouted Photogen, and started to his feet in wrath. "If you were a man, I should kill you." "A man?" repeated Nycteris: "what is that? How could I be that? We are both girls are we not?"
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