Conan, poised like a bronze statue on the cliffs, pointed northward. Straining her eyes, Olivia saw a white fleck that seemed to hang suspended in the aching haze.
'What is it?'
'A sail.'
'Hyrkanians?'
'Who can tell, at this distance?'
'They will anchor here—search the island for us!' she cried in quick panic.
'I doubt it. They come from the north, so they can not be searching for us. They may stop for some other reason, in which case we'll have to hide as best we can. But I believe it's either pirate, or an Hyrkanian galley returning from some northern raid. In the latter case they are not likely to anchor here. But we can't put to sea until they've gone out of sight, for they're coming from the direction in which we must go. Doubtless they'll pass the island tonight, and at dawn we can go on our way.'
'Then we must spend the night here?' she shivered.
'It's safest.'
'Then let us sleep here, on the crags,' she urged.