"Well," remarked Milton Rhodes, his expression one of the utmost gravity, "when in Drome, Bill, do as the Dromans." And we returned the bow of the Hypogeans, whereupon the men stepped back to their weapons, which they at once resumed, and the young women, without moving from the spot, inclined the head to us in a most stately fashion. Bow again from Rhodes and myself. This ceremony over--I hoped that we had done our part handsomely--the angel turned to us and told us (in pantomime, of course) that we were now friends and that her heart was glad. "Friends!" said I to myself. "You are no gladder, madam, than I am; but all the same I am going to be on my guard." The girls moved to the angel and, with touching tenderness, examined her bleeding hand, which the younger at once proceeded to bandage carefully. She had made to bathe the hurt, but this the angel had not permitted--from which it was patent, I thought, that there would be no access to water for some time yet. Our Amalthea and her companions now held an earnest consultation. Again we heard her pronounce that word Drome. And again we saw in the look and mien of the others doubt and uneasiness and something, I thought, besides. But this was for a few moments only. Either they acquiesced wholly in what the angel urged, or they masked their feelings. I wished that I knew which it was. And yet, had I known, I would have been none the wiser, forsooth, unless I had been cognizant of what it was that the angel was urging so earnestly and with such confidence. That it was something closely concerning ourselves was, of course, obvious. That it (or part of it) was to the effect that we should be taken to some place was, I believed, virtually certain. Not that this made matters a whit clearer or in any measure allayed my uneasiness. For where were we to be taken? And to what? To Drome? But what and where was this Drome? Was Drome a place, was it a thing, was it a human being, or what was it? Such were some of the thoughts that came to me as I stood there. But what good to wonder, to question when there could be no answer forthcoming? Sooner or later the answer would be ours. And, in the meantime--well, more than sufficient unto the day was the mystery thereof. And, besides, hadn't Rhodes and I come to find mysteries? Assuredly. And assuredly it was not at all likely that we would be disappointed. This grave matter, whatever it was, decided, the angel plunged into a detailed account of what had happened on the bridge. We thought that we followed her recital pretty closely, so expressive were her gestures. When she told how we had saved her from that frightful chasm, she was interrupted by exclamations, all eyes were turned upon us, and I felt certain in that moment that we were indeed friends. Still Heaven only knew what awaited us. It was well, of course, to be sanguine; but that did not mean that we should blink facts, however vague and mysterious those facts might be.