"He has a strength I have not met before." An echo of that other despair lay in the silver chiming. And an overtone of awe. "He cannot be taken—and that is strange. He has qualities I cannot quite explain. But his will is great—great enough, I think, to penetrate the veil unaided."
"He cannot be taken...." The piping again, sorrowfully resigned.
Bryan was aware of the girl's eyes on him. The wistfulness in them seemed to have grown. And from some deep recess within him rose a sudden queer aching.
"Farewell...."
Farewell? Protest surged in him. He struggled to make a detaining gesture—but it was futile. She turned away.
The hovering winged shapes followed her. Moving swiftly and lightly, she went toward the pavilion, before which the statuesque man stood beside the prone figure of the unconscious girl.
She lifted the globe to the man ... its inner pulsing quickened. A radiance grew in it, as though some energy were being absorbed. The pulsing was very rapid now—triumphant.
Then the girl turned, hurrying back to the giant bird, which was waiting nearby. Behind her, even as she turned, the man swayed—fell. He fell loosely, emptily, his eyes open.
The girl leaped to the bird's back. In another moment it sprang into the air, huge wings beating. Higher it lifted, and higher. The mosquito-men followed. All soared beyond Bryan's range of vision, and the beating of wings faded ... died.