"But if meet we must, point the death tubes at the pale shield he
bears upon his throat and send the flame into the flower of cold fire
that is its centre--nor look into his eyes!"
Again Larry gasped, and I with him.
"It's getting too deep for me, Doc," he muttered dejectedly. "Can you
make head or tail of it?"
"No," I answered, shortly enough, "but Rador fears something and
that's his description of it."
"Sure," he replied, "only it's a code I don't understand." I could
feel his grin. "All right for the flower of cold fire, Rador, and I
won't look into his eyes," he went on cheerfully. "But hadn't we
better be moving?"
"Come!" said the soldier; again hand in hand we went blindly on.
O'Keefe was muttering to himself.
"Flower of cold fire! Don't look into his eyes! Some joint!
Damned superstition." Then he chuckled and carolled, softly:
"Oh, mama, pin a cold rose on me;
Two young frog-men are in love with me;
Shut my eyes so I can't see."
"Sh!" Rador was warning; he began whispering.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342