I should imagine that they were not unlike
the ancient Picts and Scots as they appeared to the invading Romans. At
us they came uttering their shrill, whistling cries, evidently with the
intention of spearing us on the spot.
"Now for it," said Leo, drawing his sword, for escape was impossible;
they were all round us. "Good-bye, Horace."
"Good-bye," I answered rather faintly, understanding what the Khania and
the old Shaman had meant when they said that we should be killed before
we ascended the first slope of the Mountain.
Meanwhile our ghastly-looking guide had slipped behind a great boulder,
and even then it occurred to me that her part in the tragedy being
played, she, if it were a woman at all, was withdrawing herself while
we met our miserable fate. But here I did her injustice, for she had, I
suppose, come to save us from this very fate which without her presence
we must most certainly have suffered. When the savages were within a few
yards suddenly she appeared on the top of the boulder, looking like a
second Witch of Endor, and stretched out her arm. Not a word did she
speak, only stretched out her draped arm, but the effect was remarkable
and instantaneous.
At the sight of her down on to their faces went those wild men, every
one of them, as though a lightning stroke had in an instant swept them
out of existence.
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