“Whose children are they?”
“Most gracious King, the people whom we fell upon were ever calling upon their father, as if he had all power. It was ‘Deucalion!’ ‘Deucalion!’ on every side.”
“Deucalion!” Atlano gasped the word. Then, of his astonishment and exultation, cried:
“Ha—Deucalion! Art thou sure?”
“Most gracious King, their father is Deucalion.”
“Knowest thou who is Deucalion? Knowest thou who he is, Zekil?”
Even Zekil was shrinking back at the fury of his tone.
“He is the one who headed the horde—that drove us back—into the way of loss, ruin. But for Deucalion, we would have swept from earth this Pelasgia!
“Yea, and as they thronged about him, and pressed against us, it was to the cry of ‘Deucalion—Deucalion!’ And we fled before this ‘Deucalion!’” He hissed the word at the terrified children.
“Now to pay him—now to pay him! And it shall be fine ransom! Ah, what ransom will I have for you, ye thrice-cursed children of Deucalion!”