The boat had nearly reached the edge of the basin when a strong white arm shot up, not ten feet away from it, and laid hold of a projection on one of the larger pieces of drift. A glad cry arose from floe and ship as, with a lusty thrashing of feet, Polaris emerged from the water and sprawled his length across the slippery surface. Again the shout, when it was seen that he dragged after him a smaller darker form. Parkerson, the sailor, was unconscious, having struck his head against floating ice in his fall.
When the boat returned, and Polaris still bearing the senseless man in his arms climbed over the side, the cruiser's company cheered him as only American sailors can cheer a hardy deed bravely done.
Minos the king left the Judgment House shortly after the going of Analos, the high priest of Hephaistos. With the king went the nobles.
"When ye have slept, come ye on the morrow to the palace," he bade them "There is much to be considered, wherein I would have your counsel."
A short way from the Judgment House, on the slopes of Mount Latmos, stood the palace of the kings of Sardanes, a temple-like structure, reared of the green stone from the cliff quarries and faced with lofty pillars of white marble. Thither Minos walked slowly, pondering much. One of his household, a lad of some eighteen years, who had tarried when the people fled from the hall, now followed his master.
As they ascended the path through the great trees toward the royal hill, a scrap of conversation drifted to the ears of the king from the porch of the stone cottage of one of the tillers of the soil.
"The world hath rocked. Cold enters the valley. The dread high priest threateneth the king. What will the outcome be?" A woman's voice asked the question.
A man made answer: "Hephaistos ruleth the priests. Analos and fear rule the people. What can the king do?"
Minos smiled. What, indeed? Yet there were some things that he could and would do.