"Sleep struck you that sudden blow, you poor Gaspard!" said Morgana, "And you have not slept so long--barely an hour--just long enough for me to hover a while above this black desert and then turn homeward,--I want no more of the Sahara!"

Rivardi, smarting under a sense of loss and incompetency, went up to her.

"Give me the helm!" he said, almost sharply--"You have done enough!"

She resigned her place to him, smiling at his irritation.

"You are sure you are quite rested?" she asked.

"Rested!" he echoed the word disdainfully--"I should never have rested at all had I been half the man I profess to be! Why do you turn back? I thought you were bent on exploring the Great Desert!--that you meant to try and find the traditional Brazen City?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I do not like the prospect"--she said--"There is nothing but sand--interminable billows of sand! I can well believe it was all ocean once,--when the earth gave a sudden tilt, and all the water was thrown off from one surface to another. If we could dig deep enough below the sand I think we should find remains of wrecked ships, with the skeletons of antediluvian men and animals, remains of one of the many wasted civilisations--"

"You do not answer me--" interrupted Rivardi with impatience--"What of your search for the Brazen City?"