"Very well, Sheng-ti," said Grinnell soothingly, "We share with thee." Aside, to Ramey, he explained, "Sheng-ti's a ku'an-chu, Most Holy One. Not quite right up here. Not an ounce of harm in him, though. We feed him, and he calls down Buddha's blessing on us. Fair enough, eh? Behold, Sheng-ti, we have guests! The bird-men from the sky have come to visit us."
The priest glowered at the two strangers malevolently.
"Later we shall show them the wonders of the temple," continued Grinnell. "They would see the statues of the gods, the fountains and the hidden crypt—"
At his last words, a spasm of something akin to terror passed over the face of the yellow man. His eyes clouded and he thrust long-taloned hands before his face as if fending off a blow. His voice lifted in a discordant croak.
"Aie, doom!" he cried. "Doom ... doom ... doom!"
And turning swiftly, he fled, ragged skirts trailing behind him, sandals slip-slopping on the stone floor. Ramey grunted.
"Well! Pleasant little harbinger of spring, isn't he? That last crack of yours went over big."
Dr. Aiken smiled.
"I shouldn't let that worry you, my boy. Sheng-ti's a dire prophet, but a poor one. He warned me three years ago that if I did not leave this temple I would 'vanish into yesteryear', never to return. Cheerful thought, wasn't it? But I'm still here.
"Now, sit down, both of you, and stop worrying about nonexistent troubles. Have you forgotten we are on an island surrounded by a moat? Our watchmen guard every approach. If anyone comes near, we'll be given ample warning. Now, let me see—what were we talking about?"