Now already the dust of the advancing column had grown unmistakably visible, drifting downwind in a thin haze that ever advanced more and more to the southeast, came nearer always, and rose higher in their view.
“Be ready, men,” cautioned Stern. “In a few minutes, now, the foremost will pass over that blackened hilltop there ahead of us!”
Higher and thicker grew the dust. A far, shrill cry sounded; and some minutes later the breaking of wood became audible as the column cut through a charred barrier.
Stern was half standing, half lying in the arroyo, only his head projecting over a charcoal mass that once had been a date-palm.
His weapon hung, well balanced, in his hand. All along the edge of the gully other pistol and rifle barrels were poked through débris. Forgotten now were sore and wounded feet, thirst, hunger, ophthalmia, discouragement--everything. This new excitement had wiped all pain away.
Suddenly Allan started, and a little nervous thrill ran down his spine. Over the top of the hill they all were watching a moving object had suddenly become visible--a head!
Another followed, and then a third, and many more; and now the shoulders and the bodies had begun to show; and now the whole advance guard of the mysterious marching column was plainly to be seen, not more than a quarter-mile away.
Allan jerked the binoculars to his eyes, and for a long moment peered through them.
His eyes widened. An expression of blank amazement, supreme wonder and vast incredulity overspread his face.
“What?” he exclaimed. “But--it's impossible! I--it can't be--”
Again he looked, and this time was forced to believe what seemed to him beyond all bounds of possibility.
“Our own people! The Folk!” he cried in a loud voice. And before his men could sense it he was out of the ravine.
His first thought was a relief expedition from Settlement Cliffs; but how could there be so many? Those who had remained at the colony were only twenty-five, all told, and in this long line that still at a good pace was defiling down the hillside already more than fifty had come to view, with more and ever more still topping the rise.
Utterly at a loss though he was, incapable of seeing any clue to the tremendous riddle, he still retained enough wit to hail the column, now passing down the slope some three or four hundred yards to westward.
“Ohé, Merucaan v'yolku!” he shouted between hollowed palms. “Yomnu! Troin iska ieri!”
Already his men had scrambled from concealment, and were waving hands and weapons, cloaks, burned brush wood, anything they could lay hands on, to attract attention. Their shouts and hails drowned out the master's.
But the meaning of the words mattered little. For the column on the hillside, understanding, had stopped short in its tracks.
Then suddenly, with yells, it dissolved into confusion of its component parts; and at a run the People of the Abyss swarmed to the greeting of their kinsmen and their own, the colonists.
Barbarians as the folk still were, they met with a vociferous affection. A regular tangi, or joy-wailing, followed, and all crowded vociferously about Stern, with hails of “Kromno! Long live our Kromno, our great chief!” in their own speech.
But Allan, dumfounded by this incredible happening, broke the ceremony as short as possible. The sight of these unexpected reenforcements dazed him. He managed to keep some coherence of thought, however, and flung rapid questions, to which he got scant answers.
Amazed, he stared at the newcomers, now shouting with their relatives from the colony in wild abandon. To his vast astonishment he saw that they had contrived eye-shields similar to those of his own party, and that they had likewise painted their faces.
They had supplies as well-dried fish, seaweed, crated waterfowl, and even fresh game. Allan's astonishment knew no bounds.
He laid a compelling hand on the shoulder of one, Rigvin, whom he remembered as a mighty caster of the nets on the Great Sunken Sea.
“Oh, Rigvin!” he commanded. “Come aside with me. I must have speech at once!”
“I come, O Kromno. Speak, and I make answer!”
“How came ye here without the flying boat? How did ye escape from the Abyss? Whither went ye? Tell me all!”
“We waited, Kromno, but you came not. Did you forget your people in the darkness?”
“No, Rigvin. There has been great distress in Settlement Cliffs. The flying boat is lost. Even now we seek it. Enemies attacked. We destroyed them, but had to sweep the world with fire, as ye see. Many things have happened to keep me from my people. But how came ye here? How have ye done this strange thing, always deemed impossible?”
“Harken, master, that I may tell it in few words! Later, when we reach the colony whereof you have spoken, we can make all things clear; but now is no time for a great talking.”
“Go on quickly!”
“Yea, I speak. We waited for you many days, O Kromno; but you came not again. Days on days we waited, as you measure time. Sleepings and wakings we waited eagerly, but no sign of you was seen. Then uneasiness and fear and sorrow fell upon us all.”
“What then?”
“We held a great charweg there at the Place of Bones, near the Blazing Well, to take thought what was best to do. For you were our chief; and our very ancient law commands that if any chief be in distress, or deemed lost, the Folk must risk all, even life, to save and bring him once more to his own.
“For many hours our wisest men spoke. Some declared you had deserted us, but them the Folk cried down; and barely they escaped the boiling vat. We agreed some calamity had befallen. Then we swore to go to rescue you!”
“Ye did?” exclaimed Stern, much moved. “Gods, what devotion! But--how did ye ever get out of the Abyss? How find your way so straight toward Settlement Cliffs?”
“That is a strange story, and very long, O Kromno! All our elders took thought of what ye had told us so often, and they made a picture of the way. We fashioned protections for the eyes and skin, as ye had said.
“Then the wise men recalled all the ancient traditions, which we had long deemed myths. They looked, also, upon certain records graven in the rock beyond the walls, past the place of burial. They decided the way might still be open past the Great Vortex and through the long cleft, whereby our distant fathers came.
“But they said it might mean death to try to pass the Vortex. They forced none to go. Only such as would need try.”
“A volunteer expedition, eh?” thought Allan. “And look at the size of it, will you? These people are without even the slightest understanding of fear!”
“Thus it was arranged, master,” continued Rigvin. “Eight score and more of us offered to go. All things were quickly made ready, and much food was packed, and many weapons. In fifteen long canoes we started, after a great singing. Men went in each canoe to bring back the boats--”
“They didn't even wait for you? But if ye had been lost, and sought to return, what then?”
“There was to be no return, master. All swore either to find you or die!”
“Go on!” exclaimed Allan, deeply moved.
“We sailed across the Sunken Sea, O Kromno, and reached the islands of the Lanskaarn. There we had to fight and thirty were killed. But we kept on, and in two days, watching for the quiet time between the great tempests, entered the Vortex.”
“You all got through?”
“No master. There was not time. Many were lost; but still we kept on. Then on the fourth day we reached the great cleft, even as our traditions said. And here we camped, and sang again, and once more swore to find you. Then the boats all returned, and we pushed forward, upward, through the cleft.”