She darted from her place, broke through the circle of natives, and rushed up to where Andy stood with leveled weapons.
"No shoot! Me save!" she cried.
She was all but too late. Andy's fingers had crooked on the triggers, but Dirola pushed his arms upward, and when the two reports rang out the bullets struck the icy roof of the cavern.
In the confined space the shots sounded almost like thunder. A silence that was startling in its suddenness fell as the echoes of the reports died away. Dirola ran toward the altar. She grasped the arms of the two big Esquimaux, who had taken Professor Henderson from the litter with the intention of sacrificing the old inventor.
She cried out one word in a strange tongue.
The men stopped as though she had struck them. Then, with a dramatic gesture, she mounted to the top step of the altar.
A chorus of cries greeted her. She seemed to pay no heed. Silent and straight she stood there on the steps of ice, her figure in dark relief against the background of flickering lights.
The next instant Dirola, with a motion so quick the eye could scarcely follow, slipped off her suit of black fur, and stood revealed in dress of white fur, the exact counterpart of that worn by all the others in the cave.
A low murmur of astonishment ran around the vast cavern. Then, as if by common impulse, every one kneeled down, Dirola alone of all the Esquimaux remaining upright. The cave dwellers were bowing down to one they either feared or loved.
Then Dirola spoke. At first her words were slow. Gradually she talked faster, until she was speaking a very torrent of sounds. She pointed, first to the insensible body of the old inventor at her feet, next to the group of white men and boys, and then to Andy and Washington. She gave some command, evidently, for no sooner had she ceased than those who had attacked Mark, Jack and the two farmers drew back, and left them free.