He cast a sidelong glance at Beatrice. She had noticed nothing.
One moment he made as though to speak, then repressed the words, and once more gazed at the horizon.
There, so vague as almost to leave a doubt in mind, yet, after all, only too terribly real, his keen sight had detected something which caused his heart to throb the quicker and his eye to gleam with hate.
For, at the very rim of the world, dim, pale, ominous, three tiny threads of smoke were hanging in the evening air.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ANNUNCIATION
A week later all was ready for Allan's second trip into the Abyss.
His arm had recovered its usual strength and suppleness, for his flesh, healthy as any savage's, now had the power of healing with a rapidity unknown to civilized men in the old days.
And his abounding vigor dictated action--always action, progress, and accomplishment. Only one thing depressed him--idleness.
It was on the second day of July, according to the rude calendar they were keeping, that he once more bade farewell to Beatrice and, borne by the Pauillac, headed for the village of the Lost Folk.
He left behind him all matters in a state of much improvement. Zangamon and Bremilu were now well installed in the new environment and seemingly content. By night they fished in New Hope Pool, making hauls such as their steaming sea had never yielded.