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Updated: July 19, 2025
The smith, after all only a barbarian and of limited intelligence, had not even thought of the obvious command to make Stern drop his pistol on the floor. Upon this oversight now hung all Allan's hopes. Even though the man's retainers might rush the cave and slaughter all, yet in Allan's heart burned a clear and steady flame of hot desire to compass H'yemba's death.
It was, it must be, all some frightful unreality Allan's absence, the avalanche, H'yemba's attack, and this widespread, silent defiance of her power. Only a few days before Allan had been there with her strong, vigorous, confident. Authority had been supreme. Labor, content, prosperity had reigned. Health and life and vigor had been everywhere.
But now, he dimly realized, was no time for solving problems. The minute demanded swift and drastic action. He must find, must save, his son! After that other riddles could he unraveled. "H'yemba!" he cried hoarsely. "This is H'yemba's work! Revenge and hate have driven him to rebel again. To try to seize Beatrice! To steal my son! At this time of peril and affliction, above all others! H'yemba!
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