Repeated attempts to descend the precipice failed. Then he tried dropping pebbles to arouse me. Again unsuccessful, he risked attracting the sorcerers back to the spot by shouting into the chasm.
All his efforts proved futile, so he finally returned to the destroyer and obtained this rescue party.
In grateful silence I gripped his hand.
“Now,” the astronomer concluded, “if you are able to walk, we will get back to the ship. It is only 1 o’clock, and if we hurry there still is time to attack the Seuen-H’sin before daylight. Conditions throughout the world are so alarming that we must put this power plant out of business without delay!”
“Go ahead!” I assented. “I’m able to hobble along!”
It was less than two miles to the destroyer’s anchorage, they said. During the march none of the sorcerers was sighted, with which we began to conclude that the cracking of the earth had affected the village on the other side of the mountain so that all their lookouts had been called in.
But suddenly, when we were less than half a mile from the vessel, the stillness of the night was shattered by the shrill blast of a whistle. A series of other wild shrieks from the steam chant came in quick succession.
“The Albatross!” exclaimed Ensign Hallock. “Something’s happening?”
We burst into a run—the whistle still screaming through the night.
All at once the sound ceased, and as the echoes died out among the hills we heard the rattle of firearms.