Seeing that she was not to be dissuaded, Yermah offered no further objection. The bay extended down to Monterey at that time—Monterey, the quaint old Spanish town, where the first American flag was unfurled on this coast. Hanabusa had managed to pick up six other balsas loaded with provisions and manned by stout rowers whose fealty was unquestioned. When this little remnant of Atlantians and Monbas reached the seas through Monterey Bay, they were the last of the Mazaleels—a term of derision applied to them by conservative Azes. Mazaleel was simply another name for half-breed, and for ages after was a despised epithet. Steadily and in secret, before there was light enough to betray their movements, the conspirators wheeled the catapult back to the parade-grounds near the Observatory. Thinking that Yermah would return to the temple, they securely closed every door and window. None of the monks ever awoke from their first insensibility. Imos ordered the stable-doors to be left open and the north-gate ajar, so that Yermah’s absence might be discovered by some passer-by, but he took good care to be at home when the news flew over Tlamco. He was the first to suggest that the Dorado’s flight was to conceal a crime, and was properly shocked and horrified when the facts were made known. With a preternaturally long face and proper unction, Imos went to Setos, and offered to officiate in Yermah’s stead. Setos was genuinely surprised, yet not displeased over the turn of affairs, and readily agreed with Imos that the temple should be razed and never rebuilt. He had always opposed the White Brotherhood, and could see them exterminated without regret. * * * * * It was rather an imposing procession that filed out of Iaqua at noon, and marched over the rising ground, lately a scene of bloodshed, to the Temple of the Sun, where Setos and Rahula were to receive the fealty of the populace. Each male adult in Tlamco, brought earth in a square jar and water in a deep disk for an oath-offering. Unclasping a pair of interlaced bracelets, the citizen placed his right hand flat upon one band, and, detaching the other, carried it to his forehead, saying: “Name I thee to witness, I make loyal oath by two rings. So help me, All Powerful One.” This formula was repeated thousands of times in the next three days, and then, in response to a general proclamation, the warriors and citizens assembled to give burial to the slain. These were interred in a large circle at the base of Mount Olympus, with their heads turned toward the center. Setos’s first public work as Servitor was to erect a tall shaft with four fire-altars at the base, on the cardinal points, on which sacrifice was offered to the “Martyrs of the Lost Soul,” as the dead in this conflict were subsequently termed.