His head sank on the bed, and one hand sought the girl's. Despite his wonderful vitality and strength, Allan was on the verge of collapse.
Vague and confused thoughts wandered through his unsettled brain.
What was the destiny of the colony to be, now that the Pauillac was lost and so many of the Folk wiped out? Were there any hopes of ultimate success? And the Horde, what of that? How long a respite might be counted on before the inevitable, decisive battle?
A score, a hundred questions, more and more illusory, blent and faded and reformed in his overtaxed mind.
Then, blessed as a balm, sleep took him.
A violent shaking roused him from dead slumber. Old Gesafam stood there beside him. She had him by the arm.
“Waken, O master!” she was crying. “O Kromno, rouse! For now there is great need!”
Dazed, he started up.
“What--what is it now? More trouble?”
She pointed toward the door.