The giant wedge of the
forest was not burning--yet, and Audemard was hurrying like mad
toward the tip of that wedge, crying out now and then the name of
the Broken Man. And always he kept ahead, until at last--a mile
from the ridge--David came to the edge of a wide stream and saw
what it was that made the wedge of forest. For under his eyes the
stream split, and two arms of it widened out, and along each shore
of the two streams was a wide fire-clearing made by the axes of
Black Roger's people, who had foreseen this day when fire might
sweep their world.
Carrigan dashed water into his eyes, and it was warm. Then he
looked across. The fire had passed, the pall of smoke was clearing
away, and what he saw was the black corpse of a world that had
been green. It was smoldering; the deep mold was afire. Little
tongues of flame still licked at ten thousand stubs charred by the
fire-death--and there was no wind here, and only the whisper of a
distant moaning sweeping farther and farther away.
And then, out of that waste across the river, David heard a
terrible cry. It was Black Roger, still calling--even in that
place of hopeless death--for Andre, the Broken Man!
XXVI
Into the stream Carrigan plunged and found it only waist-deep in
crossing.
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