THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
seemed a forlorn hope. For, lighter than he, and possessed of some devil of agility, she made better headway. She had some yards start of him. Avalanches of soil slid from her nimble heels upon him, and avalanches sliding beneath his own feet carried him back a part of every advance he made, trying to catch at rooted substance to stop himself, but there was nothing rooted. Everything was swept back together. Whither, in such a fury of haste? The pyramid of earth, slippery though it was, was child's play. But at the top of it was planted the mountain of stone, a solid breadth without discernable place where foot could find passage. Yet she was approaching it without hesitation, as though she expected, when she reached it, a door in the blank front would open at a touch. He was scarcely halfway up the ascent when he saw her reach and catch the first firm outcropping. Edging cautiously up over treacherous-looking terraces, of mixed shale and earth, she rested her knee and both hands on a little projecting edge; with a spring, drew herself up; so paused, kneeling; and, being human, looked dark upon the breast of the Sphinx.
For a moment she remained balanced perilously against what appeared the sheer face of the rock. Her glance rose like a bird to the forehead of stone, than darted to the left past it. She made a motion.
289
