“They’re making offerings to their Amulet,” said Anthea. “We’d better give something too.”
The pockets of the party, hastily explored, yielded a piece of pink tape, a bit of sealing-wax, and part of the Waterbury watch that Robert had not been able to help taking to pieces at Christmas and had never had time to rearrange. Most boys have a watch in this condition.
They presented their offerings, and Anthea added the red roses.
The headman who took the things looked at them with awe, especially at the red roses and the Waterbury-watch fragment.
“This is a day of very wondrous happenings,” he said. “I have no more room in me to be astonished. Our maiden said there was peace between you and us. But for this coming of a foe we should have made sure.”
The children shuddered.
“Now speak. Are you upon our side?”
“Yes. Don’t I keep telling you we are?” Robert said. “Look here. I will give you a sign. You see this.” He held out the toy pistol. “I shall speak to it, and if it answers me you will know that I and the others are come to guard your sacred thing—that we’ve just made the offerings to.”
“Will that god whose image you hold in your hand speak to you alone, or shall I also hear it?” asked the man cautiously.
“You’ll be surprised when you do hear it,” said Robert. “Now, then.” He looked at the pistol and said—