Terrible was the force of that blow, struck for his own life, for the honor of Beatrice, the salvation of the world.
Kamrou gave a strange grunt. His head fell backward. Both eyes closed; the mouth lolled open and a glairy froth began to trickle down.
The frightful grip of the long, hairy arms relaxed. Exhausted, Stern fell prone right on the slippery edge of the boiling pit.
He felt a sudden scalding dash of water, steam and boiling spray; he heard a sudden splash, then a wild, barbarous, long-drawn howling of the massed Folk.
Lying there, spent, gasping, all but dead in the thick steam-drift of the vat, he opened his eyes.
Kamrou was nowhere to be seen.
Seemingly very distant, he heard the copper drums begin to beat once more with feverish haste.
A great, compelling lassitude enveloped him. He knew no more.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE SUN OF SPRING
“What altitude now? Can you make-out, Allan?”