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Updated: May 11, 2025
The Geos took his hand. "It is proven!" he declared. Then, to the Rhamdas: "Is there any question, my brothers?" But no word came from the floor. Seemingly superstition had triumphed over all else. The men of learning turned none but reverent faces toward Watson. He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro. Despite the triumph he was apprehensive of the princes's keen genius.
Ye see, 'tis th' mark av th' royal Bars themselves; no ithers have it." Watson said: "If you have come from Dr. Holcomb, then you must have a message from him to me." "Ye've said it; you an' me, an' a few Rhamdas, an' mebbe th' wee queen is goin' t' take a flight in th' June Bug. We're goin' afther th' ould doc; an' ye kin bet there'll be as pretty a scrap as ever ye looked on.
Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was the bust of Professor Holcomb. Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage Rhamdas, guards, the occupants of the two thrones he himself was the most astounded. Was the great professor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not, how explain this miracle? But if he were, how to explain the duality, the identity?
Returning to the Mahovisal, he worked now to further the truths of the Prophecy. Still the millions continued to descend upon the Mahovisal. Coming from the furthermost parts of the Thomahlia, the pilgrims' aircraft kept the air above the city constantly alive. There were days such as no man had ever known. Even the Rhamdas, trained to composure, gave evidence of the strain.
They were almost at its base when Chick saw the vanguard of the Rhamdas unhesitatingly stride straight against the torrent, and then mount upon it. Up they marched; and Chick knew that the black water was black jade, and that the two people at its crest were seated upon a landing at the top of the grandest stairway he had ever seen.
The black column of Rhamdas moved ahead rhythmically, with the swing of solemn grandeur. For some minutes they marched through the streets of the Mahovisal. There was no cheering; it was a holy, awesome occasion. Chick could sense the undercurrent of the staring thousands, the reverence and the piety. It was the Day of the Prophet. They were staring at a miracle. The column turned a corner.
The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to top, with the Rhamdas. On the landing there stood only two of the three chairs that Chick had seen on the previous occasion. The green one had been brought down and placed in the centre of an open spot just at the foot of the stairs. In this chair sat the Bar Senestro.
The philosophy of the Rhamdas was firmly bound up with spiritism; they had gone far in science, and had passed out of mere belief into the deeper, finer understanding that went behind the shadow for proof.
We have the substance of ourselves, and the words of the prophet. The Jarados has written his prophecy in letters of gold, for all to see. 'The false ones. Them ye shall slay. It is the will of the Rhamdas that the great Bar Senestro shall try the proof of the occult. On this, the first of the Sixteen Days, the test shall be on the Spot of Life!" He turned away.
"Wirra, wirra!" shouted MacPherson. "Faith, an' there's powder for both!" His hands shook as he hurried to cram the old pipe full of tobacco. The cartridges could wait. He struck a light and gave a deep sigh of content as he began to puff. Chick had been grievously hurt in the contest with the Senestro, but thanks to the Rhamdas he came round rapidly. It was a matter of less than a week.
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