should have been forty-eight hours earlier. This is a dull and in most
ways a dreadful world, one, if we could only summon the courage, that
some of us would be glad to leave in search of new adventures. But here
a great and unprecedented adventure had begun to befall me, and
before its mystery was solved, before even I could formulate a theory
concerning it, my body must be destroyed, and my intelligence that was
caged therein, sent far afield; or, if Bickley were right, eclipsed.
It seemed so sad just when the impossible, like an unguessed wandering
moon, had risen over the grey flats of the ascertained and made them
shine with hope and wonder.

They carried us off to the canoes, not too gently; indeed, I heard the
bony frame of Bastin bump into the bottom of one of them and reflected,
not without venom, that it served him right as he was the fount and
origin of our woes. Two stinking magicians, wearing on their heads
undress editions of their court cages, since these were too cumbersome
for active work of the sort, and painted all over with various pigments,
were just about to swing me after him into the same, or another canoe,
when something happened. I did not know what it was, but as a result, my
captors left hold of me so that I fell to the rock, lying upon my back.

Then, within my line of vision, which, it must be remembered, was
limited because I could not lift my head, appeared the upper part of the
tall person of the Ancient who said that he was named Oro. I could only
see him down to his middle, but I noted vaguely that he seemed to be
much changed. For instance, he wore a different coloured dress, or
rather robe; this time it was dark blue, which caused me to wonder where
on earth it came from. Also, his tremendous beard had been trimmed
and dressed, and on his head there was a simple black cap, strangely
quilted, which looked as though it were made of velvet. Moreover,
his face had plumped out. He still looked ancient, it is true, and
unutterably wise, but now he resembled an antique youth, so great were
his energy and vigour. Also, his dark and glowing eyes shone with a
fearful intensity. In short, he seemed impressive and terrible almost
beyond imagining.

He looked about him slowly, then asked in a deep, cold voice, speaking
in the Orofenan tongue:

"What do you, slaves?"

No one seemed able to answer, they were too horror-stricken at this
sudden vision of their fabled god, whose fierce features