“Oh! they’ll tell you anything!” said the Psammead impatiently, getting into its bass-bag and wrapping itself in its waterproof sheet.
“But we can’t see the sun in here, and it isn’t rising anyhow,” said Jane.
“How you do waste time!” the Psammead said. “Why, the East’s where the shrine is, of course. There!”
It pointed to the great stone.
And still the shouting and the clash of stone on metal sounded nearer and nearer. The children could hear that the headmen had surrounded the hut to protect their treasure as long as might be from the enemy. But none dare to come in after the Psammead’s sudden fierce biting of the headman.
“Now, Jane,” said Cyril, very quickly. “I’ll take the Amulet, you stand ready to hold up the charm, and be sure you don’t let it go as you come through.”
He made a step forward, but at that instant a great crackling overhead ended in a blaze of sunlight. The roof had been broken in at one side, and great slabs of it were being lifted off by two spears. As the children trembled and winked in the new light, large dark hands tore down the wall, and a dark face, with a blobby fat nose, looked over the gap. Even at that awful moment Anthea had time to think that it was very like the face of Mr Jacob Absalom, who had sold them the charm in the shop near Charing Cross.
“Here is their Amulet,” cried a harsh, strange voice; “it is this that makes them strong to fight and brave to die. And what else have we here—gods or demons?”
He glared fiercely at the children, and the whites of his eyes were very white indeed. He had a wet, red copper knife in his teeth. There was not a moment to lose.
“Jane, Jane, QUICK!” cried everyone passionately.