"The explanation seemed good. I felt a curious sense of relief, although I had not been sensible of any oppression.
"'Let's slip over,' suggested Stanton—but I would not.
"'They're a difficult lot as it is,' I said. 'If we break into one of their religious ceremonies they'll probably never forgive us. Let's keep out of any family party where we haven't been invited.'
"'That's so,' agreed Stanton.
"The strange tinkling rose and fell, rose and fell—
"'There's something—something very unsettling about it,' said Edith at last soberly. 'I wonder what they make those sounds with. They frighten me half to death, and, at the same time, they make me feel as though some enormous rapture were just around the corner.'
"'It's devilish uncanny!' broke in Stanton.
"And as he spoke the flap of Thora's tent was raised and out into the moonlight strode the old Swede. She was the great Norse type—tall, deep-breasted, moulded on the old Viking lines. Her sixty years had slipped from her. She looked like some ancient priestess of Odin.
"She stood there, her eyes wide, brilliant, staring. She thrust her head forward toward Nan-Tauach, regarding the moving lights; she listened. Suddenly she raised her arms and made a curious gesture to the moon. It was—an archaic—movement; she seemed to drag it from remote antiquity—yet in it was a strange suggestion of power, Twice she repeated this gesture and—the tinklings died away! She turned to us.
"'Go!' she said, and her voice seemed to come from far distances. 'Go from here—and quickly! Go while you may. It has called—' She pointed to the islet. 'It knows you are here. It waits!' she wailed. 'It beckons—the—the—"