“He mumbles,” proceeded Gato; “his eyes are wild at times; he calls for his daughter, and weeps like a child; he cannot eat, and his sleep is broken with loud cries.”
“Is there much of that?” the king asked in alarm.
“No, Sire; only rarely. If he is taken to the sacrificial altar when he has a lucid period,———”
“The risk is great,” groaned the king. “The people would resent the offering up of a madman; and we can do nothing while the storm lasts. The people can’t assemble. We must wait. You men go among the Senatras tomorrow and pacify them. Tell them that all will be well. Do they say that the Face is threatening, Gato?”
“Yes, Sire. Some fools have seen it and spread tales about it. One is that green water streams out of its eyes, and another is that the mouth has opened and that purple flames come forth.”
Beela’s start thrilled me. The news brought the king to his feet.
“Is it true, Gato,—the open mouth and the purple flame?”
“I do not know, Sire. I have not seen it, and I do not believe it.”
“But it may be true! Find out tomorrow morning, and let me know.” He was leaving the throne, and although the light was poor, I could see a totter in his step and haggardness in his face.
The others were rising. The king turned to them, and said: