In a very short space of time, six beautiful “birds” rose from the ground and skimmed toward their goal which was now approaching very rapidly.
“My Waz,” cried Mashonia suddenly. “It is part of no planet that we are approaching. See, there is glass in front, and men like ourselves are looking toward us!”
“They are like us, yet unlike us,” said Waz-Y-Kjesta. “They are habited in sombre clothing—they look dark and gloomy.”
“Where can they come from?” asked Mashonia wonderingly. “All sons of Keemar would signal us. They are strangers from another world, I fear.”
Gradually they circled round the Argenta, and brought her safely to the ground. They watched the lifting of the shutters curiously. This was indeed the strangest “air bird” they had ever seen. When Sir John gave his wild cry, the Keemarnians realized that the strangers who had come in so wonderful a manner to their land, had suffered acutely. “Send for six Bhors,” said Waz-Y-Kjesta quickly, “these friends are ill.”
In the shortest space of time, the Bhors, the Keemarnian carriages, appeared. They were comfortable litters like vehicles, laden with rugs of silk and downy cushions. Above were canopies of silk which shaded the occupants, who swung hammock wise from a wheeled frame, into the shafts of which were harnessed magnificent colis—beasts very similar to Shetland ponies, only with long curly hair.
At a command from Waz-Y-Kjesta, Mashonia and another leapt nimbly over the bulwarks of the Argenta, and without a word, in turn carried all the erstwhile prisoners of the airship, and placed them on cushions in the comfortable Keemarnian equipages. As Alan was carried past the Waz, he murmured feebly. “A guard for the Argenta, please.”
A look of surprise passed over the Keemarnian’s face. “What meanest thou?” he asked.
“A guard,” urged Alan. “The Argenta contains all our possessions.”
“A guard?” answered Kjesta. “Nay, why should we do that? It is safe there. It does not belong to us. Fear not, no one will touch it, my friend.”