ditions, nature takes up the battle for him. Gradually the tumult in his ears subsided. His mind cleared. His heart ceased to clamor for release. His breathing became less painful. With closed eyes he cared not what passed over him.
Jolly Cauldron took a flask of whisky from his pocket.
"Here, dog," he said in a conciliatory voice; "drink this, it will revive you. We're going on a long journey tomorrow. We're going to explore the hills of dream in quest of the golden girl."
5
Jolly Cauldron was a creature of impulse. He no sooner thought of a thing than he attempted it. His personality had not been spoiled by youthful inhibitions and suppressions. He seldom made elaborate plans in advance. It was his custom to work out details as he went along. When he had kidnapped Guy in Stanbury Downs with the help of an old woman whose penury had hardened her conscience, and a half-ruined house that was tenantless, the affair had been the result of a momentary impulse. He had seen Gloria and Guy at a shop in London and had followed them at a discreet distance until he found out the address of the house where they were stopping in Stanbury Downs. This had been quite simple, for they had ordered several books to be mailed to them by a garrulous bookseller. From him Jolly Cauldron had drawn the information he desired.
At sunrise the next morning Jolly Cauldron again gave way to an impulse. Accompanied by Guy he set out in quest of a girl whom he had decided he desired, despite the fact that he had never even gazed upon her face. With him desire was akin to love. He pushed forward at a terrific pace as though he were incapable of fatigue.
Guy smiled to himself as he reflected that this was not incongruous, for most of the time he was like a thing of steel. To him it meant nothing to be tired. Guy had never seen him when he seemed in need of rest. True, in the evenings he had lain on the beach smoking, but it was not as though he did it through physical weariness. Rather he seemed to rest merely for the pleasure of enjoying the fantastic dreams which his inhalations evoked.
Toward noon the breeze died down entirely and the air grew as hot as if the sand beneath their feet were a furnace floor. The sun seemed suspended in the sky, a chandelier of scorching, searing fire. Guy walked along in a daze. The heat waves rose from the ground visibly. Guy wished to stop and rest, but Jolly Cauldron snarled at him.
"We'll not stop," he cried hoarsely, "not till we reach the black pool. Then you can drink till your liver floats away. What would be the sense of stopping here? You couldn't find water."
Guy closed his eyes to keep out the glaring light and plodded aimlessly along. He followed Jolly Cauldron like a whipped dog. When he felt as though he could endure the torture no longer, they came upon a spring. He babbled foolishly as he beheld it. Without pausing to drink of the water, he plunged right in, head and all. Even the pores of his skin drank. They absorbed the water like sponges.
As they continued their march, the heat seemed to relent. A gentle breeze sprang up. Peace returned to them. After that first spring they passed many others. Now that they were no longer thirsty, water was ever within reach of their hands. Eventually they arrived at the black pool in which Guy had beheld the lovely maiden bathing. Jolly Cauldron was impressed and pleased.
