“Are you—is—is—are any of you hurt?” she inquired, stammering in her anxiety.
“No; we are all safe. And you, Ama?”
“I am broken hearted! My poor people! My poor city!”
“Never mind,” said I. “The city can be fixed up again and more people will grow. Do you want us?”
“Not now. Come to me early to-morrow.”
“We will if the priests let us. There’s an ugly fellow here now, named Katalat, who says he’s the new High Priest and forbids our seeing you again.”
There was a brief silence.
“Beware of Katalat,” Ama said, in a hesitating voice. “I fear trouble ahead for us all. Come to-morrow, if you can—all of you.”
Then she severed the connection and I went back to make my report.
“Boys,” said I, “we’d better settle with this High Priest right now—for good and all.”