She drew his head down and kissed him, and for a little while they kept the silence of perfect comradeship. But at last she questioned:
“You've got it all worked out at last, Allan? You know just the steps to take? One false move--”
“There shall be no false moves. Reason, deliberation, care will solve this problem like all the others. Given some fifteen hundred people, at a depth of five hundred miles, and given an aeroplane and plenty of time--”
“Yes, of course, they can be brought to the surface. But after that, what? The dangers are tremendous! The patriarch died at the first touch of sunlight. We can't afford to take chances with the rest!”
“I've planned on all that. Our first move must be to locate a rocky ledge, a cave, or something of the sort, where the transplanting process can be carried out. There mustn't be any exposure to the actual daylight for a long time after they're on the surface. The details of food and water have all got to be arranged, too. It means work, work, work! God, what work! But--it's our task, Beta, all our own. And I glory in it. I thank Heaven for it--a man's-size labor! And if we're strong and brave enough, patient and wise enough, we're bound to win.”
“Win? Of course we'll win!” she answered, her faith in him touching the sublime. “We must! The life of the whole world's at stake!”
Night came, and redder glowed the firelight in the gloom. They spoke of life, of love, of destiny; and over them seemed to brood the mystery of all that was to be.
The very purpose of the universe enwrapped itself about their passion, and the untroubled stars kept vigils till the dawn.
Daylight called them to begin the epic campaign they had mapped out--the rescue of a race.
After a visit to the patriarch's grave, which they decked anew with blossoms and fresh leaves, they prepared for the journey in search of a suitable temporary home for the Folk.