Cabot drew his princess close to him and waited.
But the plane never reached the palace. Suddenly and inexplicably it burst into flames and dropped like a meteor into the plaza just to the southward. The plane on its left quickly followed suit, and then that on its right. Other planes along the line met the same fate, and yet the Cupian fleet had not yet come within range. What could be the explanation?
And then into that disorganized and demoralized line of ants, which but a few paraparths ago had been advancing so serenely confident upon Kuana, there charged the united forces of the Cupians and their Hymernian allies. The Formians broke. They retreated southward again. Their retreat became a rout. But how had it been accomplished?
“It is the miracle for which I prayed,” Lilla exclaimed.
“Tell us, O Nan-nan,” Cabot demanded, “you of the lost religion, whose holy father knows everything.”
But the young priest merely grinned sheepishly.
“Doubtless the holy father does know,” he said, “but he omitted to impart his knowledge to me before I left the Caves of Kar.”
“Well said!” Cabot remarked. “That is the best crawl I have ever witnessed. As an alibi artist you beat even a certain classmate of mine, who was noted for that at Harvard, and later in his practice of the law.”
Nan-nan’s grin became even more sheepish.
Cabot continued: “But this should be an occasion for rejoicing rather than for questionable humor on my part. Forgive me, Nan-nan. We have just been present at a great victory. You and Glamp-glamp saved my life in the Caves of Kar, so that I might live to see this day. You yourself saved my princess by directing me to her in the passage beneath the palace, and thus she too is present on this joyous occasion. Cupia is again free. And no little of the credit belongs to the priests of the lost religion.”