"The lion!" cried Wistik; and away he went, as fast as he could run.
Johannes also was greatly frightened. He knew it was time to leave, but he would not go quite yet. He asked, imploringly:
"Father Pan, shall I find the book?"
"Remember what I said to you," replied Pan. "Vraagal can do what Vraagal wills to do. To will is to do. But it must be the right sort of will."
Again that frightful roar resounded, this time much nearer. Johannes stretched out his hand, hesitating between his mounting fears, and his desire to make use of an instant more.
"One more question!" he cried. "Who is Markus?"
At that, he saw Pan's eyes distend, and stare at him with a look full of intense emotion. He seemed as fiercely sorrowful as a wounded animal; and, until now, Johannes had not observed what beautiful great eyes he had. He lifted up his outspread hands—then covered his face with them, and began to weep and wail, loudly. The air grew dense and dark, and a heavy shower descended.
Then, for the third time, the lion roared....