Tearing off the headset in his eagerness, he whirled around to the crowd which, alarmed by his tone even though the words were not understood by most, had drawn close about him. His eyes sought and found Jepthah and him he addressed:
“There’s an attack against Korakum coming by way of the river. As the airplane crossed a gorge twenty-five miles from here through which the subterranean river ran exposed, Amrath counted three boatloads of armed men making their way toward Korakum. There may be more. He didn’t see them. About twelve men in a boat.”
“Perhaps, they are not advancing on Korakum,” suggested Mr. Hampton.
Jepthah shook his head in negation.
“They could be going nowhere else,” he said. “Well, thanks to our friends, we are warned. We shall be ready for them.”
Turning, he issued a crisp order in Athensian which caused the revolutionists in the group to dart away at once. Their bare legs flashed as they raced through the grove, then they leaped over the underbrush at the edge of the terrace without even seeking out the path which had been cut through it, and started running up the Great Road.
“Your Arabs,” said Jepthah, tersely, to Mr. Hampton, “can we count on them?”
“They are free agents,” said the latter. “I’ll ask Ali.”
The latter, standing close at hand, did not wait to be appealed to.
“We are at your command, sir,” he said to Jepthah.