Moving a few paces along the cliff base, he turned into a dark opening. Ere the others could follow, however, he leapt back with a startled cry, as a dark figure appeared at the tunnel end. It was the priest. His one hand, uplifted above his head, held a small, shrivelled brown ball, and his whole attitude was so menacing that the explorers involuntarily stepped back a pace. “Back!” the king cried, his eyes fixed upon Nordhu’s hand; “’tis the thunder-ball!” “Move not,” snarled the priest; “I have somewhat to say ere I destroy ye. Thought ye to trap me in the tunnel, dogs? I tell you ye know not the resources of Nordhu. Ye are but babes.” Then, with a change of tone, he went on, “Why do ye pit yourselves against me? I offered you life for the secret of your fire-weapons, and ye would not take it. I offer you again. Join me; make my people into a strong race; teach them of your knowledge, and ye shall be rulers and kings among them. What say ye?” “No, you devil!” thundered the baronet in a fury, “a thousand times, no! Think ye we would have dealings with a monster foul as you, who can take pleasure in sacrificing helpless prisoners to the appetite of the devilish Rahee? Truly you have no lack of conceit.” “Hath he spoken for all of ye?” demanded the priest calmly, not a whit moved by this outburst. “Do all of ye choose death rather than life?” “We choose nothing,” retorted Mervyn; “you are in our power. What is to prevent us slaying you?” An evil grin spread over Nordhu’s features. “This,” he cried, shaking aloft the ball he held, and at the movement the face of Chenobi grew pale as death; “the thunder-ball. ’Twill shatter you to fragments in a moment, if I but cast it at your feet.” “Great Heaven!” whispered Mervyn to the baronet, “it’s a dried puff-ball! We must be careful.” “Now hearken,” the priest went on; “step backward to the water’s edge and cast your weapons into the sea. Have a care”--as Seymour made a threatening movement--“I am not minded to destroy myself with ye, yet will I do that rather than fall again into your hands.” “I guess he’s got the drop on us,” Haverly growled, as the scientist translated the priest’s command; “we’ll have to do as he says.” In silence the party obeyed the order, though their hearts burned with shame at their humiliating position. As the last weapon splashed into the heaving water, Nordhu advanced from the tunnel, walking with a slight limp. The hounds, who had retreated with their master, whined piteously as the priest moved over the beach. Their terror of the man seemed to overcome all their natural courage. “Stand where ye are,” Nordhu called, “and make no attempt to follow me, or ’twill be the worse for ye.” So the adventurers stood, and watched him toil painfully across the shingle. Evidently he had fallen and injured himself in the tunnel, at the time when the four had heard his cry. Towards the plain they had crossed so recently he stumbled.