The hand lamp shed a feeble light. Upon the altar were a few faint sparks. Kluto made his way toward king and high priest who still sat rigid, glaring. He spoke, implored them to rise again and again—but only their despairing eyes answered.
Then he pulled the one, the other. As well might he have tried to move the temple itself. Almost frenzied, he cried:
“King Atlano, High Priest Oltis, come, come. The ocean seetheth, the streams leap their banks, the mountains throw forth fire, the earth grumbleth. Come, come! Break your bonds!”
But they stirred not, though their eyes grew like flames in their endeavors. Kluto then tried to lift Oltis’ hand. As well might he have tried to move the statue of Amen that frowned in front of them. Before this statue, he flung himself.
“O Amen, have mercy. Break their bonds!”
So alive was his faith, that he felt some answer must come to his passionate appeal; but the silence remained unbroken.
“Amen, I cannot go. I cannot leave them to this. I will share their fate!”
Now was the silence broken. There were heard the pattering of light feet and the cries of women. These, speeding through the western passage were the greater part of the handmaids who had been resting in their rooms after the vigils of the night; and who had just aroused to the terrors without. At their despairing tones, Kluto forgot king and priest, and ran out to them.
“Get ye to the great court, there to pray. For the end is upon us!”
They crowded about him, terrified and irresolute. When he had led them without among the priests and other handmaids, he went before the people thronging into the court, and bade them pray for the safety of the island.