“Dogs, who would thus break the sleep of my beloved, I give ye good for evil!” he muttered. “Treasure ye crave: treasure I give ye, and none may take it from ye!”

He turned, put his hand upon the great rock and started it from its bed. And as he moved the mass, the mountain rocked and crashed with the thunder of the bursting powder-magazine.

Down came the great rock, pinning Milo beneath it, threatening in its final fall to crush him and the body of his love. His great arms shot out and up, every muscle on his colossal frame stood out like ropes, his back cracked with the tremendous strain. He stiffened his knees, bit into his lip until the blood gushed; and a groan burst from his breast as he felt his stout knees stagger.