"_Atlantis!_" he cried. From face to face about the table he looked, with a shadow of awe in his eager eyes. "Just so surely as we are sitting here--if this man tells the truth, and I think that he does--we are among the descendants of the people of the lost continent of Atlantis. Word for word, his story fits in with that which the old Egyptian priest at Sais told to Solon, the Greek, and which Plato recorded. I have read it all in the compilation by Ignatius Donnelly, in which he gathered all the evidence which he could find in the world to prove that Atlantis was not a myth." Zenas sat back with half-closed eyes. A long, low whistle passed his lips. "What do you call the luminous metal with which your helmet and armor are decorated?" he asked of Oleric. "It is called orichalcum," replied the captain. Wright nodded. "It is the same," he said. "Plato wrote that such was the name of a similar metal, of which the Atlanteans had the secret. They delved it from the ground. It was far more precious to them than gold. In their temples stood columns of it, on which their laws were carved." "O'Connell told me that there were still traditions in the world of the continent that was; but he never told me this," Oleric said. "You are right. In the Temple of Shamar, here in Adlaz, such a column stands, and on it the laws are writ. On it, too, is the prophecy of Maeronica, against which I now match the prophecy of Ruthar, whose son I am." He looked at Polaris. "Say, brother, how is it with you? Are you minded to come with me to Ruthar and try a tilt at the Kimbrian Wall--a tilt for a kingdom?" Polaris had heard the tale of Oleric with grave and earnest attention, studying the face of the captain as he talked. Now the son of the snows laughed dryly. "Mad talk, Oleric the Red," he said. "I am not the hero of your prophecy; and if I were, how are we to come from Adlaz to this Ruthar of which you tell us so glibly; and when we are come there, if that be possible, how are we to break down the wall which has stood against your armies for years--" "So it must seem to you," interrupted Oleric, with clouding brow. "Mad talk, indeed; and perhaps it is. But here in Adlaz is death--death and slavery. I know a way to Ruthar. For the matter of the wall, I have one question to put. Well answered, all will be well. * * * * *