ntense spiritual strength. I
saw that they were not fierce, not ruthless, not inhuman, despite
their strangeness; no, they were kindly; in some unmistakable way,
benign and sorrowful--so sorrowful! I straightened, gazed back at them
fearlessly. Olaf drew a deep breath, gazed steadily too, the hardness,
the despair wiped from his face.

Now Lakla drew closer to the dais; the three pairs of eyes searched
hers, the woman's with an ineffable tenderness; some message seemed to
pass between the Three and the Golden Girl. She bowed low, turned to
the Norseman.

"Place Larry there," she said softly--"there at the feet of the Silent
Ones."

She pointed into the radiant mist; Olaf started, hesitated, stared
from Lakla to the Three, searched for a moment their eyes--and
something like a smile drifted through them. He stepped forward,
lifted O'Keefe, set him squarely within the covering light. It
wavered, rolled upward, swirled about the body, steadied again--and
within it there was no sign of Larry!

Again the mist wavered, shook, and seemed to climb higher, hiding the
chins, the beaked noses, the brows of that incredible Trinity--but
before it ceased to climb, I thought the yellow feathered heads bent;
sensed a movement as though they lifted something.

The mist fell; the eyes gleamed out again, inscrutable.

And groping out of the radiance, pausing at the verge of the dais,
leaping down from it, came Larry, laughing, filled with life, blinking
as one who draws from darkness into sunshine. He saw Lakla, sprang to
her, gripped her in his arms.

"Lakla!" he cried. "Mavourneen!" She slipped from his embrace,
blushing, glancing at the Three shyly, half-fearfully. And again I saw
the tenderness creep into the inky, flame-shot orbs of the woman
being; and a tenderness in the others too--as though they regarded
some well-beloved child.

"You lay in the arms of Death, Larry," she said. "And the Silent Ones
drew you from him. Do homage to the Silent Ones, Larry, for they are
good and they are mighty!"

She turned his head with one of the long, white hands--and he looked
into the faces of the Three; looked long, was shaken even as had been
Olaf and myself; was swept by that same wave of power and of--of--what
can I call it?--_holiness_ that streamed from them.

Then for the first time I saw real awe mount into his face. Another
moment he stared--and dropped upon one knee and bowed his head before
them as would a worshipper