red flame which, throughout all the long tragedy of years had
been handed down from father to son. It was this which had gone on
through centuries, keeping its oath and forging its swords in the
caverns of the earth, and which to-day was--waiting.

The old priest laid his hand on Marco's shoulder, and gently pushed him
before him through the crowd which parted to make way for them. He did
not stop until the two stood in the very midst of the circle, which
fell back gazing wonderingly. Marco looked up at the old man because
for several seconds he did not speak. It was plain that he did not
speak because he also was excited, and could not. He opened his lips
and his voice seemed to fail him. Then he tried again and spoke so
that all could hear--even the men at the back of the gazing circle.

"My children," he said, "this is the son of Stefan Loristan, and he
comes to bear the Sign. My son," to Marco, "speak!"

Then Marco understood what he wished, and also what he felt. He felt
it himself, that magnificent uplifting gladness, as he spoke, holding
his black head high and lifting his right hand.

"The Lamp is Lighted, brothers!" he cried. "The Lamp is Lighted!"

Then The Rat, who stood apart, watching, thought that the strange world
within the cavern had gone mad! Wild smothered cries broke forth, men
caught each other in passionate embrace, they fell upon their knees,
they clutched one another sobbing, they wrung each other's hands, they
leaped into the air. It was as if they could not bear the joy of
hearing that the end of their waiting had come at last. They rushed
upon Marco, and fell at his feet. The Rat saw big peasants kissing his
shoes, his hands, every scrap of his clothing they could seize. The
wild circle swayed and closed upon him until The Rat was afraid. He
did not know that, overpowered by this frenzy of emotion, his own
excitement was making him shake from head to foot like a leaf, and that
tears were streaming down his cheeks. The swaying crowd hid Marco from
him, and he began to fight his way towards him because his excitement
increased with fear. The ecstasy-frenzied crowd of men seemed for the
moment to have almost ceased to be sane. Marco was only a boy. They
did not know how fiercely they were pressing upon him and keeping away
the very air.

"Don't kill him! Don't kill him!" yelled The Rat, struggling forward.
"Stand back, you fools! I'm his aide-de-camp! Let me pass!"

And