Meanwhile, back on the earth, Van Emmon and Smith had lost no time in making use of the doctor’s description of the twelve.  Within a few minutes they had new agents; Van Emmon used Somat’s eyes and ears, while Smith got in touch with the elderly bearded man at the head of the table.  His name was Deltos.

“A very striking confirmation of the old legends,” he was saying through a big yawn, as Smith made connection.  He used a colloquial type of language, quite different from the lofty, dignified speech of the Sanusians.  “That is, of course, if the woman is telling the truth.”

“And I think she is,” declared the young fellow at the foot of the table.  “It makes me feel pretty small, to think that none of us ever had the nerve to make the trip; while she, ignorant as she is, dared it all and succeeded!”

“You forget, Sorplee,” reminded Somat, “that such people are far hardier than we.  The feat is one that requires apelike ability.  The only thing that puzzled me is—­why did she do it at all?”

“It will have to remain a puzzle until she awakens,” said Deltos, rising from the table.  “Lucky for us, Somat, that you saw fit to study the root tongues.  Otherwise we’d have to converse by signs.”

Neither Smith nor Van Emmon learned anything further that night.  The twelve were all very tired, apparently, and went right to bed; a procedure which was straightway seconded by the four watchers on the earth.  Which brings us in the most ordinary manner to the events of the next day.

After breakfast all but Somat left the place and disappeared in various directions; and Rolla noted that the robes were, evidently, worn only at meal time.  Most of the men were now dressed in rough working garments, similar to what one sees in modern factories.  Whimsical sort of gods, Rolla told herself, but gods just the same.

“Tell me,” began Somat, as the woman sat on the floor before him—­he could not get her to use a chair—­“tell me, what caused thee to leave thy side of the world?  Did ye arouse the wrath of thy fellow creatures?”

“Nay,” answered Rolla, and proceeded to explain, in the wrong order, as a child might, by relating first the crossing of the ridge, the flight from the bees, the “masters’” cruel method of dealing with Corrus and Dulnop, and finally the matter of the fire itself, the real cause of the whole affair.  Somat was intelligent enough to fill in such details as Rolla omitted.

“Ye did right, and acted like the brave girl ye are!” he exclaimed, when Rolla had finished.  However, he did not fully appreciate what she had meant by “the winged masters,” and not until she pointed out some bees and asked if, on this part of the planet, such were the rulers of the humans, that the man grasped the bitter irony of it all.

“What!  Those tiny insects rule thy lives!” It took him some time to comprehend the deadly nature of their stings, and the irresistible power of concerted effort; but in the end he commented:  “Tis not so strange, now that I think on it.  Mayhap life is only a matter of chance, anyway.”