“You can trust your man in charge of the engine?”
“Yes, Kyrion. That is all he has to do, for the dynamo works by itself without my being present.”
“All seems going smoothly,” said the Demarch to Maurice, as they turned away. “That mine ought to do considerable damage.”
“I’m certain it will. But, uncle, you must be quite worn out for want of rest; so you go to sleep, and I will watch.”
“I will sleep later on; but meanwhile I am going up to the Acropolis to tell Helena that Crispin and Gurt have left the island safely. She will be very anxious.”
“Give her a kiss for me,” cried Maurice, as his uncle walked away up the pass.
“I am afraid it will be horribly damaged on the transit,” replied the Demarch, smiling. “Good-by, my lad. Keep a sharp look-out, and if anything goes wrong, send Temistocles to the Acropolis. I will be back in an hour.”
He went away slowly; for, in spite of his iron spirit and determination to keep up, the incessant fatigue was beginning to tell on his frame. At seventy-five, one cannot play with a constitution; and hardened as was the body of Justinian by temperate living and constant exercise, he yet felt that he was not the man he was. Another thing which worried him mentally, and thus acted on him physically, was the thought of the volcano; for, in spite of the way in which he reassured Crispin, he felt by no means easy in his mind regarding the safety of the island. Not until he was absolutely forced to, would he close up the pass, and thus shut himself up in a crater apparently on the verge of eruption. True, if the worst came, he could escape with his people over the cliff, but such a method would take some time; and, with the volcano spouting fire, there would be but a small chance of any one escaping alive. Full of these thoughts, he walked leisurely along, pondering over matters volcanic and matters military; for with the treacherous crater on one side, and the cruel enemy on the other, he could not but see that matters were approaching a crisis.
Even if the volcano remained quiescent, and the enemy were beaten back, still things were in anything but a satisfactory position; for he had lost many of his men, and he knew how difficult it would be to supply their places with Greeks of the old Hellenic stock. Those who were dead had been trained up under his eye; they knew his aims and aspirations, and were already developing greatly: but now all that was at an end; they had been cut off by death, and even if he got new blood, it would mean that the whole task of training up a new generation would have to begin all over again. Justinian was a man of great self-control, but when he thought of all he had lost, in the darkness of night he gave free vent to his emotion, and wept bitterly at the downfall of his hopes. Still all was not yet lost, for the island still remained, and many of the old inhabitants; so he dried his eyes when he left the gorge, and determined, notwithstanding his bad fortune, still to bear up bravely in his efforts to reconstruct the old Hellenic civilization.
As he neared the Acropolis, he was astonished to see Helena, attended by Zoe, come hastily along the road, with a face expressive of great fear.