Jahnt was choking now with the blood in his throat. Then he gasped, "No—his men said they—could not handle it—so close to the ground—such a—short distance. They are on foot—in the forest—"
Venta was with us now, bending down over the dying Jahnt. His glazing eyes saw her, and he murmured, "You—if you had loved me—this would not have happened. I'm dying—you'll all die when—Curtmann uses those weapons against you. I'm—glad of that—"
His body twitched. Horribly the blood rattled in his throat, choking him; and then in another moment he was gone.
"They're half way to the Forest City," Jim muttered. "Good Lord, we've got to stop them. But how? How can we do it, Art?"
Venta was standing apart from us, with the tiny Meeta on her shoulder. They were murmuring together, and abruptly Meeta flew to me.
"She says it is right and it can be done. We Midges—serve the Gods, and surely now we know the good Gods from the evil."
An army of the Little People! Jim and I stood blankly listening while Venta told us what she and Meeta had been planning. A myriad of Midges could be rallied now. And they had human intelligence.... Only a foot high, or less. But, especially the females, they could fly with the agility of humming birds.
"And we can be armed," Meeta cried. She hummed away, came back in a moment. In her tiny hand there was a thorn. It was no more than two inches long, but to her it was a sword, stiff and sharp as a needle.
"The poisoned enta-thorn!" Venta exclaimed. "But I did not know that any of the enta-shrub was near here."