“Have done,” spoke Deucalion sternly, “or worse will befall thee than thou dreamest. Wouldst thou be given over to the tender mercy of the people?”
“I will do that I am forced to. But—for one moment of freedom!” Dreadful were his writhings.
“Calm thyself. We are almost at the portal.”
And, at the portal they were—most suddenly to come out before the watching islanders.
The sun was just above the horizon when the shouts arose, “The High Priest!” “The ‘Silent Priest’!” “Behold!” “Behold!”
Atlano, who was talking with Urgis, turned; and perceived the two standing on the portico. Intense chagrin was expressed in his face as he gazed and wondered. The ‘Silent Priest’ not killed! But, instead, thus appearing,—bearing up Oltis who was trembling as an aged man. “What meant it?”
But the high priest was beckoning. In answer, the people surged forward. When there was quiet, Oltis spoke.
“King Atlano, Priests, People, these troubles are of the gods. Anger them no further. Hearken to this, their will. Ere the morn is two hours older will the Pelasgian children leave, and with the ‘Silent Priest.’”
Atlano’s derisive laugh burst forth. But the people began to cry their acquiescence. It was:
“So shall it be!” “So shall it be!” “We will be rid of them!” “They are a scourge!”