in the moonlight. Drowsily, dreamily, round and round, she whirled to her own mystic song. The strong knights could not take their eyes from the slender, swaying figure. They listened while she sang of pink pearl chariots and prancing steeds.
Suddenly, a great bubbling and seething arose. The Rhine had heard the call of his beloved child. The river began to rise. It rose higher and higher, until the warriors felt the cold waters swirling around their feet.
Then a cream-crested wave swept toward them. In its green depths was a magnificent chariot, like a great, glistening sea-shell. It was drawn by white-maned horses. With a light bound, Lorelei sprang into the magic coach. She was borne swiftly over the side of the cliff into the water. Then the waters went down. The warriors could move again. They ran to the edge of the cliff. They peered over. Drops of water shone like gems on the rocks. But there was no sweet face. There was no beckon-
