Swiftly Ahma broke the tableau. Dropping the Major's hand she darted forward to where Pud-Pud had risen to his knees, her white foot flashing up to dash from his lips the blow tube he leveled at Terry. The venomous dart sped aimlessly into the air and fell outside the ring of Hillmen. Pud-Pud's violation of the sanctity of council roused Ohto to a wrath terrible to see. All of the savagery, all of the unbridled fury of a primitive, passionate nature mounted to his wrinkled face as he pointed to the culprit with a majestic gesture that summoned the four armed men. At a word they hustled the terror-stricken savage away to await Ohto's judgment. Ahma calmly returned to the Major's side and together they resumed their hopeless contemplation of the Agong. He peered up till his neck ached. "Terry," he whispered, "to ring it you have to strike that little knob in the center, don't you?" "Yes." Then inspiration shone in the Major's face. He eyed Terry covertly. "Wish we had a rifle," he suggested. Terry caught his meaning. He fingered his holster but shook his head. "It can't be done, Major." "Sure it can--sure _you_ can! I've seen you shoot!" Terry shook his head but the excited Major insisted: "Try it. Rest your gun on my head. Sure you can do it--and think what it will mean--the Hills opened up for all time--think what it will mean to the Governor--and to the Service!" The hushed crowd stiffened as they saw the two white men draw back a hundred feet, wondered as to the character of the strange black thing the smaller drew from his leather pocket. They watched intently, thinking to see sorcery wrought before their eyes. Terry cocked the weapon and resting his wrist upon the tall Major's head, sighted carefully. A thousand pairs of eyes focussed upon him. Could the slim white man ring the gong by pointing a magic finger? The Major, braced for the shock of explosion, felt the iron wrist tremble, grow limp and lift away. He wheeled around to find Terry shaking his head, uncertain, faltering. He slowly holstered the gun. "Major, I keep thinking how I have deceived--this fine old man," he said. The Major stared at him, then exploded: "By making this 'sign' that saved your life--and mine? Sus-marie-hosep! I've heard of those New England consciences but--Sus-marie-hosep!" Disgust, dismay, affection swept in succession across the Major's countenance: affection held. He laid his hand upon Terry's shoulder as he played his ace: "Terry, I thought you had a date in Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth!"