chin, and instantly a piercingly sweet call penetrated the wild uproar.
The Call filled it, drained through it, wrapped it, overcame it; so that
it sank away at last like the outwash of an exhausted tide: the weft of
battle stayed unfinished in the loom.

Then from the Indian lodges came the women and children. They drew near
to the unearthly luxury of that Call, now lifting with an unbounded joy.
Battleaxes fell to the ground; the warriors quieted even where they stood
locked with their foes. The Tall Master now drew away from them, facing
the north and west. That ineffable Call drew them after him with grave
joy; and they brought their dead and wounded along. The women and
children glided in among the men and followed also. Presently one girl
ran away from the rest and came close into the great leader's footsteps.

At that instant, Lazenby, from the wall of the Fort, cried out madly,
sprang down, opened the gates, and rushed towards the girl, crying: "Wine
Face! Wine Face!"

She did not look behind. But he came close to her and caught her by the
waist. "Come back! Come back! O my love, come back!" he urged; but
she pushed him gently from her.

"Hush! Hush!" she said. "We are going to the Happy Valleys. Don't you
hear him calling?" . . . And Lazenby fell back.

The Tall Master was now playing a wonderful thing, half dance, half
carnival; but with that Call still beating through it. They were passing
the Fort at an angle. All within issued forth to see. Suddenly the old
trader who had come that morning started forward with a cry; then stood
still. He caught the Factor's arm; but he seemed unable to speak yet;