I answered more hopefully, “The flames appear to move over the surface only. The building is of such material as will not burn at all in the world I come from. I think that it must be covered with some protecting varnish, which is inflammable. That will burn itself out very quickly, and it will be as though nothing had happened.” “No,” she said, “the building burns,” and even with the thought the increasing heat drove us farther away, and the flames, which burned with a hissing sound, rose higher. “In any case,” I continued, “the fault is mine, and if we meet the Dwellers, I will tell them.” “The act was yours, but the cause was ours,” she answered--“and the Dwellers will soon be here, that is a very certain thing, and it is our part to decide how we shall meet them.” By now the building rose a solid oblong of bright flame in a windless air, and the heat was terrible. On our right hand as we faced it, we saw six other buildings of a similar type, and on our left was the steaming vat, with the killing-pens built over it. I thought, “The next building is catching.” “Yes,” she answered, “they will all go.” On the farther edge of the enclosure we saw the Killers, a pink crescent standing outside the doors of the inner wall. They were quite silent, and very still. A yellow blotch on the sand, the wiser lizards made their way to the open gate. CHAPTER XXVI THE TRIAL As the heat increased we again moved backward, and stood there in a pause of indecision; at least my own mind hesitated, and hers had closed, as it would when she sought decision from a too-difficult complexity. At last I asked her, “Had we not better follow the example which the lizards set so promptly? There is nothing here to do, and the Killers seem too appalled for movement. As the fires die, their consternation may give place to fury. I have lost my axe, and my knapsack, and all it held. The bow is burnt, and were it not so, my right arm is useless. I think we should make a sudden rush for the gate, for it is only speed which will save us.” She had a javelin in her hand, and she spun it in the air, and caught it lightly as it fell, before she answered. “Should the Killers try again, there is one that will sorrow. But I think differently. It is with the Dwellers only that this game is played from now onward. Perhaps it may be well to go. It is hard to say. But you have not thought of the Bat-wings.” No, I had not thought of the Bat-wings. It was not clear why I should. It seemed to me that if we thought of ourselves we were sufficiently occupied for the moment. But I could not avoid the thought when she raised it, for they were making a clamour which the hissing roar of the fire itself could not entirely silence.