Wondering still, I turned from my point of observation and made my way back to our pavilion, hoping that Larry, who had been with Yolara for the past two hours, had returned. Hardly had I reached it before Rador came hurrying up, in his manner a curious exultance mingled with what in anyone else I would have called a decided nervousness. "Come!" he commanded before I could speak. "The Council has made decision--and _Larree_ is awaiting you." "What has been decided?" I panted as we sped along the mosaic path that led to the house of Yolara. "And why is Larry awaiting me?" And at his answer I felt my heart pause in its beat and through me race a wave of mingled panic and eagerness. "The Shining One dances!" had answered the green dwarf. "And you are to worship!" What was this dancing of the Shining One, of which so often he had spoken? Whatever my forebodings, Larry evidently had none. "Great stuff!" he cried, when we had met in the great antechamber now empty of the dwarfs. "Hope it will be worth seeing--have to be something damned good, though, to catch me, after what I've seen of shows at the front," he added. And remembering, with a little shock of apprehension, that he had no knowledge of the Dweller beyond my poor description of it--for there are no words actually to describe what that miracle of interwoven glory and horror was--I wondered what Larry O'Keefe would say and do when he did behold it! Rador began to show impatience. "Come!" he urged. "There is much to be done--and the time grows short!" He led us to a tiny fountain room in whose miniature pool the white waters were concentrated, pearl-like and opalescent in their circling rim. "Bathe!" he commanded; and set the example by stripping himself and plunging within. Only a minute or two did the green dwarf allow us, and he checked us as we were about to don our clothing. Then, to my intense embarrassment, without warning, two of the black-haired girls entered, bearing robes of a peculiar dull-blue hue. At our manifest discomfort Rador's laughter roared out. He took the garments from the pair, motioned them to leave us, and, still laughing, threw one around me. Its texture was soft, but decidedly metallic--like some blue metal spun to the fineness of a spider's thread. The garment buckled tightly at the throat, was girdled at the waist, and, below this cincture, fell to the floor, its folds being held together by a half-dozen looped cords; from the shoulders a hood resembling a monk's cowl. Rador cast this over my head; it completely covered my face, but was of so transparent a texture that I could see, though somewhat mistily, through it. Finally he handed us both a pair of long gloves of the same material and high stockings, the feet of which were gloved--five-toed. And again his laughter rang out at our manifest surprise.