"Move back? Never!" said Milton Rhodes. "We are here to move forward, not to go back. And, besides, the way widens out a little up there."
I thought this utterly Quixotic; but, of course, if he didn't want to go back, I couldn't make him. And, if he wouldn't step back, neither would I.
"Look," I said. "She is going to speak."
The angel raised her left hand and motioned to us rather vehemently, at the same time uttering some word, or words.
"No mistaking that, Bill," said Milton.
"No; it is as plain as any words could be:
"'Go back!'"
"I am at a loss," said Rhodes, "how to answer."
Again the angel raised her hand; but she did not motion this time, for the demon, with a blood-curdling sound, deep in its throat, strained forward again, and so suddenly and strongly that the angel was drawn forward a step or two. A sharp word, however, from the angel, and the monster settled back, as a dog does after straining at its leash.
Once more the angel fixed her eyes upon us, or, rather, upon Milton Rhodes. Once more she raised her hand to sign to us to go back. But the sign was never given.