“You speak strangely,” said Mortimer.
“Perhaps it may so seem to you,” replied Robert, “but it’s nevertheless true. When the hour comes we shall strike, to the full extent that may be necessary, but not one step beyond that. Those are the orders—the orders of the High President.”
“The High President!” exclaimed Mortimer, coming to a dead stop. “Ah! I see—I see! I’ve heard that title before. This—this—camp is a camp of Reactionists and you—you—you—are rebels—conspirators against the King!”
“Hush!” said Robert warningly.
“You deny it!” cried Mortimer.
“I affirm or deny nothing!” replied Robert. “I’ve already said too much. Come, let us move on.” He touched Mortimer lightly on the arm.
They walked a short distance further on down the valley, to a large circular opening between the mountains, where a singular sight confronted them. In that great circular valley, moored to right and left, like shipping in a harbor, lay some two dozen air-ships of varying sizes. In the foremost rank were the four great ships which had effected their capture, and nestling behind these four was their own craft, the “Royal Dean.” Here and there men at work were moving about among the ships.
Silently they stared for a moment upon the scene before them.
“I would much like to inspect some of these,” whispered Dean to Robert. “May I?”
“I hardly think I have authority to grant you that privilege,” replied Robert, smiling, “but your ship will doubtless be subjected to very careful scrutiny by us. By the way, is there anything about it that requires attention for the moment?”