No information had been given them as to the object of their long and rapid aerial voyage,--and only now when the "White Eagle," swooping over California, reached the scene of the terrific devastation wrought by the earthquake did they begin to think they had submitted their wills and lives to the caprice of a madwoman.

However, there was no drawing back,--nothing for it but still to obey,--for even in the stress and terror naturally excited by their amazing position, they did not fail to see that the great air-ship was steadily controlled, and that whatever was the force controlling it, it maintained its level, its mysterious vibrating discs still throbbing with vital and incessant regularity.

Apparently nothing could disturb its equilibrium or shatter its mechanism.

And, according to its woman-designer's command, they lowered it gently till it was, so to say, almost immersed in the torrent and covered with spray--indeed Morgana's light figure itself at the prow looked like a fair spirit risen from the waters rather than any form of flesh and blood, so wreathed and transfigured it was by the dust of the ceaseless foam.

She stood erect, bent on a quest that seemed hopeless, watching every eddying curve of water,--every flickering ripple,--her eyes, luminous as stars, searched the black and riven rocks with an eager passion of discovery,--when all suddenly as she gazed, a thin ray of light,--pure gold in colour,--struck sharply like a finger-point on a shallow pool immediately below her.