For the first time in his life--that life which had covered a thousand years or more--he found himself unable to make himself intelligible. He had not now even recourse to gestures, to sign language. Bound hand and foot, trussed like a fowl, ignored by his captors (who, by all rules, should have been his hosts and shown him every courtesy), he felt a profound and terrible anger growing in his heart. A sudden rage, unreasoning and insensate, blazed within him. His fists clenched; once more he tugged, straining at his stout bonds. He called down maledictions on those two strange, impassive, wraithlike forms hardly more than half seen in the darkness and fog. Then, as delirium won again over his tortured senses and disjointed thoughts, he shouted the name of Beatrice time after time out into the echoing dark that brooded over the great waters. All at once he heard her voice, trembling and faint and weak, but still hers! From the other boat it came, the boat now drawing very near. And as the craft loomed up through the vapors that rose incessantly from that Stygian sea, he made a mighty effort, raised himself a little and suddenly beheld her--dim, vague, uncertain in the shuddering bluish glare, yet still alive! She was crouching midships of the canoe and, seemingly, was not bound. At his hail she stretched forth a hand and answered with his name. "Oh, Allan! Allan!" Her voice was tremulous and very weak. "Beatrice! You're safe? Thank God!" "Hurt? Are you hurt?" "No--nothing to speak of. These demons haven't done you any damage, have they? If so--" "Demons? Why, Allan! They've rescued us, haven't they?" "Yes--and now they've got me tied here, hand and foot! I can't more than just move about two or three inches, blast them! They haven't tied you, have they?" "No," she answered. "Not yet! But--what an outrage! I'll free you, never fear. You and I together--" "Can't do anything, now, girl. There may be hundreds of these people. Thousands, perhaps. And we're only two--two captives, and--well--hang it, Beatrice! I don't mean to be pessimistic or anything like that, but it certainly looks bad!" "But who are they, boy? Who can they be? And where are we?" "Hanged if I know! This certainly beats any dream I ever had. For sheer outrageous improbability--" He broke off short. Beatrice had leaned her head upon her arms, along the gunwale of the other canoe which now was running parallel to Stern's, and he knew the girl was weeping. "There, there!" he cried to her. "Don't you be afraid, little girl! I've got my automatic yet; I can feel it under me, as I lie here in this infernal boat. They haven't taken yours away?" "No!" she answered, raising her head again. "And before they ever do, I'll use it, that's all!" "Good girl!" he cheered her, across the space of water. "That's the way to talk! Whatever happens, shoot straight if you have to shoot at all--and remember, at worst, the last cartridge is for yourself!" CHAPTER XXIV