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"Doom," I said "doom? What then is about to happen?" "A terrible thing, as I think, Humphrey. Or, rather, it will not happen." "Why not, if it must?" "Beloved," she whispered, "Bastin has expounded to me a new faith whereof the master-word is Sacrifice. The terrible thing will not happen because of sacrifice! Ask me no more."
Thus ended the history of our dealings with Oro, the super-man who began his life more than two hundred and fifty thousand years ago, and with his daughter, Yva, whom Bastin still often calls the Glittering Lady. There is little more to tell.
"Somehow I don't care to," said Bastin. "The place is dreary enough as it is without the company of a lot of dead kings." "I should like to dissect one of them, but I suppose that would not be allowed," said Bickley. "No," she answered. "I think that the Lord Oro would not wish you to cut up his forefathers." "When you and he went to sleep, why did you not choose the family vault?" asked Bastin.
Ralph shook his head; "I could not get away, dear friend." The two men shook hands, and parted as men part who never expect to meet again. Bastin left alone dropped into a "brown study." He was suddenly recalled to the present, by the arrival of the mail. The most important packet bore the handwriting of Sir Archibald Carlyon, Ralph's proprietor.
Here we made Bastin unfasten the better of the two canoes that by good luck was almost filled with offerings, which doubtless, according to custom, must be made upon the day of this feast to Oro, while we watched against surprise at the boat-house door. When he was ready we slipped in and took our seats, Tommy jumping in after us, and pushed the canoe, now very heavily laden, out into the lake.
"Look here," exclaimed the exasperated Bickley, "if you say much more, Bastin, I'll chuck you into the pit too, to look for your martyr's crown, for I think you have done enough mischief for one morning." "If you are trying to shift the responsibility for that unfortunate man's destruction on to me " "Oh! shut it and trot," broke in Bickley.
That is why those of the High Blood endured so long and became the rulers of the world, and that, as I have said, is the greatest of the reasons why the peoples who dwelt in the ancient outer countries and never wished to die, made war upon them, to win this secret fountain. Have no fear, O Bastin, for see, I will pledge you in this water."
They never became more than diversions to me. A hobby is only really amusing when it becomes an obsession. At length my lonesome friendlessness oppressed me so much that I took steps to mitigate it. In my college life I had two particular friends whom I think I must have selected because they were so absolutely different from myself. They were named Bastin and Bickley.
"He's broken his neck or something," I said. Bickley crept to him and having looked, sang out: "It's all right! He's only sea-sick. I thought it would come to that if he drank so much tea." "Sea-sick," I said faintly "sea-sick?" "That's all," said Bickley. "The nerves of the stomach acting on the brain or vice-versa that is, if Bastin has a brain," he added sotto voce.
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