civilization they could make in a few brief years if they could but be made to follow the simple plans he had in mind.
“Why,” he said, “in ten years they should have bridged a gulf that it must have required ages for our ancestors to span.”
“And you are planning ten years ahead, Thandar,” she asked, “when only yesterday you were saying that once beside the sea you hoped it would be but a short time before we might sight a passing vessel that would bear us away to your civilization? Must we wait ten years, Thandar?”
“I am planning for them,” he replied. “We may not be here to witness the changes; but I wish to start them upon the road, and when we go I shall see to it that a king is chosen in my place who has the courage and the desire to carry out my plans.
“Yet,” he added, musingly, “it would be splendid could we but return to complete our work. Never, Nadara, have I performed a single constructive act for the benefit of my fellow man, but now I see an opportunity to do something, however small it may seem, to—what was that?”
A low rumbling muttered threateningly out of the west. Deep and ominous it sounded, yet so low that it failed to awaken any member of the sleeping tribe.
Before either could again speak there came a
