though no one understood his English, one or two suddenly
remembered they had seen him enter with the priest and so gave way.
But just then the old priest lifted his hand above the crowd, and spoke
in a voice of stern command.

"Stand back, my children!" he cried. "Madness is not the homage you
must bring to the son of Stefan Loristan. Obey! Obey!" His voice had
a power in it that penetrated even the wildest herdsmen. The frenzied
mass swayed back and left space about Marco, whose face The Rat could
at last see. It was very white with emotion, and in his eyes there was
a look which was like awe.

The Rat pushed forward until he stood beside him. He did not know that
he almost sobbed as he spoke.

"I'm your aide-de-camp," he said. "I'm going to stand here! Your
father sent me! I'm under orders! I thought they'd crush you to
death."

He glared at the circle about them as if, instead of worshippers
distraught with adoration, they had been enemies. The old priest
seeing him, touched Marco's arm.

"Tell him he need not fear," he said. "It was only for the first few
moments. The passion of their souls drove them wild. They are your
slaves."

"Those at the back might have pushed the front ones on until they
trampled you under foot in spite of themselves!" The Rat persisted.

"No," said Marco. "They would have stopped if I had spoken."

"Why didn't you speak then?" snapped The Rat.

"All they felt was for Samavia, and for my father," Marco said, "and
for the Sign. I felt as they did."

The Rat was somewhat softened. It was true, after all. How could he
have tried to quell the outbursts of their worship of Loristan--of the
country he was saving for them--of the Sign which called them to
freedom? He could not.

Then followed a strange and picturesque ceremonial. The priest went
about among the encircling crowd and spoke to one man after
another--sometimes to a group. A larger circle was formed. As the
pale old man moved about, The Rat felt as if some religious ceremony
were going to be performed. Watching it from first to last, he was
thrilled to the core.

At the end of the cavern a block of stone had been cut out to look like
an altar. It was covered with white, and against the wall above it
hung a large picture veiled by a curtain. From the roof there swung
before it an ancient lamp of metal suspended by chains. In front of
the altar was a sort of stone dais. There the priest asked Ma