Chuck stared at the speaker.
"Hey, what makes here? A revival meeting? How come this 'faith and ordained' chatter?"
The German was equally taken aback. So much so that for the moment he quite forgot the neo-paganistic pretensions of his creed, and relapsed into the speech-habits of one-time Christian Germany.
"Gott im Himmel!" he exclaimed. "Vas—?"
Only Steve Duane had the acuteness to comprehend the lofty place to which he and his companions had been elevated, and the quickness of mind to take advantage of it. Aside, he whispered hurriedly, "Don't you get it? We are their gods—or the symbols of their gods! Quiet, now!" And to the girl, in a gravely commanding voice:
"Rise, O Priestess!" he said. "The Slumberers hear, and are merciful. Is there one in command here?"
The priestess rose with slowly returning assurance.
"Not here, O Wise One; but elsewhere in Fautnox sits the Mother in everlasting wisdom."
The Mother, thought Steve swiftly. Then his surmise as to the sociological organization of this race had not been wrong. It was a matriarchy, divided into groups of warriors, workers, and—what else could the flabby-fleshed ones be but breeders? That accounted for the sole male being a pampered, bedizened pet.