Among the few books in the cabin of his father was one which Polaris had read and reread, and which, as boy and man, he had liked best of them all. It was the "Ivanhoe" of Sir Walter Scott. He had wondered much on its story of chivalry and battle in a far-off time. Unconsciously much of his own language was couched in its quaint terms. Now, as he set forth, to fight, or to fall, if need be, for the lady of his heart, there came to him a strange conceit, born of the old romance. Armed and ready, he stood at the top of the terrace, and while the priest wondered, he raised his voice in his own tongue, not loudly, but firmly and clearly, in the first battle cry ever heard in the valley of Sardanes: "For the Rose of America! Polaris to the rescue!" Together he and Kalin passed down the terraced slopes of the Gateway to the Future. CHAPTER XV HEPHAISTOS CLAIMS A SACRIFICE Kalin carried a bundle in his hand, and as they reached the thickets at the foot of the hill he paused. "Now, for our purpose thou must go unknown of men. Thou canst hide thyself in one of these." He shook out his bundle, and revealed two of the long sable robes of his priestly order. He threw one of them over Polaris and donned the other. They were loose and cowled, and covered both men entirely. "As a priest of Hephaistos thou goest," said Kalin. "Thou must leave the spear, but that strange club of thine thou mayest hide beneath the robe." "Nay, I can take the spear also," answered Polaris, and snapped the stout shaft off short in his hands, so that the weapon was rendered little longer than the rifle, and he could hide both of them under the garment. "Priest," he said, as they started across the meadows toward the bridge, "but shortly I said that in anger which I fain would recall, for twice thou hast shown thyself a true man." Kalin waved his hand deprecatingly. "It is forgotten, as though it were not," he said, with one of his rare and melancholy smiles. "Thou art as my brother." "But now," persisted Polaris, "we fare on an errand to which thy feeling of brotherhood doth not bind thee. Why goest thou into danger with me, Kalin, into danger that may end in death, thou, who art of this land, and its priest?" Kalin halted and regarded him strangely. "Say, thou, Polaris, thou lovest Rose?" he questioned. Into the face of the man of the snows the red blood flamed afresh. "Ay, so it seemeth--unto death," he said simply. The priest nodded slowly. "And the Rose--doth she return thy love, my brother?" he asked.