He investigated the vision-slit. It was barred by a glassy, transparent pane that seemed as hard as steel. Well, it would be necessary to open the panel behind him--a few inches, anyway. Garth's hand sought for the spring. It was in plain sight; there was no need to conceal it within the throne's compartment. He pressed it. There was a low grinding that stopped almost immediately. Garth tried again. Useless. The mechanism, somehow, was jammed. Probably its mechanism had failed when the huge robot had crashed down on the throne. That meant-- Garth's fingers tried to find some purchase on the smooth surface of the panel. He failed.... A Zarno called a question. Garth turned back to the eye-slit, trying to fight back his dizziness. Heads were lifted, he saw, watching him inquiringly, as though the silicate creatures expected something. Well-- He made the robot move again, its arms reaching out in ancient ceremonial gestures. A gasp of awe came from the Zarno. Their chant thundered out, deeper, sonorous and inhuman. * * * * * Garth felt the beginning of a throbbing ache in his temples. He was trapped here. How long could he stand it? He was human, not one of the Ancients. He needed air-- He held the Zarno, but not for long. Once more bulbous heads were lifted, oval eyes watching him inquiringly. They were expecting something--what? Garth tried to remember what he had seen in the recorder. More heads were lifted. Garth made the robot step forward, raising its metal arms. He had to say something--anything that would hold the Zarno quiet for a while, long enough for Doc and the others to escape. Words he had forgotten since childhood came suddenly unexpectedly to him. The English phrases meant nothing to the Zarno, but the sonorous, powerful chant kept them silent. "He shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter; and from the noisome pestilence.... Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day.... A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee...." The agony flamed up again in Garth's brain, consuming, terrible. The huge robot body of the dais swayed, caught itself, and the chant thundered out again through the great cavern. "If I take the wings of the morning; and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there also shall thy hand lead me...." The distant, harsh clangor of a bell sounded. Garth had heard it before, when he had crossed the threshold of the black temple in the forest. At the sound the Zarno stirred, and a few of them sprang up. Garth thrust out his hand, fighting back the pain that tore at him like white flame. His voice held them-- "The floods are risen, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voices; the floods lift up their waves.... The waves of the sea are mighty, and rage horribly: but yet the Lord, who dwelleth on high, is mightier--"