The hierophant hesitated and looked sharply at his auditor before replying.
“Thou hast still to overcome that which bars the entrance before thou hast completed the labors of initiation, and I am not unmindful of thy real destiny. Yes,” he continued deliberately, and as if the fate of an immortal soul hung on his words, “yes. I am prepared to go with thee into the Yo-Semite. Whatever the result of the expedition, I will help thee to endure.”
As he ceased speaking Yermah noticed that he held both thumbs tightly and sat motionless, save that his lips moved silently. His piercing dark eyes focused in empty space, and he seemed for a moment far away from his surroundings.
“And the gold which I came here to find—does it lie in that direction? Will my initiation into the Sacred Mysteries be completed upon its discovery?”
Yermah was carefully noting Akaza’s abstraction.
“The gold thou art to find lies in that direction, and when found the Brotherhood of the White Star will welcome thee.”
“Then thy long journey from Atlantis will be crowned with success, and we can return like a pair of conquerors—thou to preside over the temple whose foundations were laid the day I was born, I to tip its spires with virgin gold. Then the initiation, and I am ready to assume my duties as Grand Servitor. There is but one short year in which to accomplish this.”
“True child of the sun, full of hope and impatient of delay! Youth is thy eternal heritage.”
“Youth, indeed!” said Yermah, with mock severity. “Thirty times will the earth have encircled the sun when the next day of my nativity arrives. I hope soon after that to be a family man, staid and sober.”
“What is this about a family?” queried a newcomer, a swarthy son of Mars, who stood in the doorway. His head was without covering other than a band of red leather, having a bull’s head and horns of agate, and a solitaire for Aldebaran in the center with a gold boss on each side. He wore the quilted cotton tunic of a soldier and his feet were protected by leather sandals tipped with gold.