“But,” she objected, terrified at thought of losing him again: “but I thought you said the Horde wrecked it!”
“So they did; but beasts like that probably couldn't destroy the vital mechanism beyond possibility of repair. That is, not unless they heaped a lot of wood all over it, and heated it white-hot, which I don't think they had intelligence enough to do. In any event, what's left will serve me as a model, for another machine. I really think I'll have to have a try for it.”
“Oh, Allan! You aren't going to venture out into the wilderness again?”
“Why not, dearest? You must remember the forest is all burned now; perhaps for hundreds of miles. And the Horde, the one greatest peril that has dogged us ever since those days in the tower, has been swept out with the besom of flame!”
“Which has also surely destroyed the machine, even if they haven't!” she exclaimed, using every possible argument to discourage him.
“I hardly think so,” he judged. “You see, I left it in a wide sand-barren. I think, on the whole, it will pay me to make the expedition. Of course I shan't take less than a dozen men to help me bring it back--what's left of it.”
“But Allan, can you find your way?”
“I've got to! That machine must positively be recovered! Otherwise we're totally cut off from the Abyss. Colonizing stops, and all kinds of hell may break loose below ground before I can build another machine entire. There are no railroads running now to the brink,” he added smiling; “and no elevators to the basement of the world. It's the old Pauillac again or nothing!”
The girl exhausted all her arguments and entreaties in vain. Once Allan's mind was definitely made up along the line of duty, he went straight forward, though the heavens fell.
Four days later the expedition set out.