The music below grew fainter and died. Those with us upon the terrace remained silent, awaiting the pleasure of the Princess. When she spoke at last it was to Ferratoni, and then I noticed for the first time that he had brought, or caused to be brought, a little case which I recognized as one of his telephones. We had known that for the entertainment of the Princess he had been experimenting with his materials, and we realized that he was about to demonstrate from the elevation of the temple the practicability of his invention. Remembering what we had been told of the national prejudice against mechanical progress, I momentarily doubted the wisdom of such an exhibition, but reflected that with the approval of the Princess the result could hardly be otherwise than pleasant. Those who remained with us seemed also to encourage the experiment, and showed some interest as to the outcome.

They were those of the inner household. Among them were the three to whom Chauncey Gale, Mr. Sturritt and myself had paid some slight social attention (the merest courtesies, indeed, as courtesies go in that land) since our arrival in the Lilied Hills.

Ferratoni now arranged the telephone apparatus and adjusted it carefully, explaining to us, meantime, that he had constructed another which he had left at the palace below, whence a little party of those returning would presently communicate with us. When all was ready, he touched the annunciator bell, but there came no response. Evidently those who were to answer had not yet reached the palace. We waited a little in expectant silence—then once more he touched the bell. Still no response—our friends at court were proceeding but leisurely, as was their wont. Indeed a mental communication just then established the fact that they had paused for refreshments in the palace gardens. I thought Ferratoni looked a little annoyed. He was anxious, I suppose, to please the Princess, though the latter showed no impatience. Refreshments and pausing were the peaceful characteristics of her gentle race.

While we waited I found myself recalling some of the former times when the little telephone had brought messages from the unseen. I recalled the first trial, when we were frozen in the pack, and Edith Gale and I had carried it to the top of the lonely berg, and so listened to Ferratoni’s mysterious message from the ship—the message all now could understand. I remembered, too, the chill waiting on the top of the Pacemaker when voices from the Billowcrest heartened me and gave me comfort and hope. And then there came the recollection of the weary days when, toiling down the great white way, we had been cheered and encouraged by the voices of those behind, and of the desolate nights when I had found peace and repose in the soothing influence of “Old Brown Cows.”

Recalling these things dreamily, I was almost as much startled as the listless ones about us, when suddenly on the little telephone in our midst there came a sharp returning ring. Not a timid and hesitating signal, as from one unused and half afraid, but emphatic, eager and prolonged. There was something about it that thrilled me, and I saw Chauncey Gale suddenly sit upright. Ferratoni, however, quickly handed the transmitter to the Princess, and held the receiver to her ear. But as she listened there came into her face only a strange, puzzled expression, and she did not answer. Instead, she returned the transmitter to Ferratoni, who now held the receiver to his own ear. For a moment only, then hastily turning, and with eager, outstretched hands he held the telephone complete toward Chauncey Gale and me!

We grabbed for it as children scramble for a toy. It was an unseemly display to those serene ones about us, and in a brief instant must have damaged their good opinion of us, and their regard. We did not think of that, and we did not care. We knew that in that telephone were voices for us only—voices long silent to us—at times almost forgotten,—but that now, from far across the snowy wastes and scented fields, were calling us to awake, and remember, and reply.

I seized the receiver. Gale, who had managed to get hold of the transmitter, commenced shouting in it.

“Hello! Hello, Johnnie! Hello! Hello! Why don’t you answer?” Then, suddenly realizing that I held the receiver, he snatched it to his own ear, but not before I had caught a few brief joyous words in the voice of Edith Gale.

“Yes, it’s us!” he called frantically. “All right, yes!—Yes, as well and happy as—that is, of course we’re awful homesick!—I mean not suffering any.—Yes, warm, and fine country!—Oh, yes, nice people!—Girls? Oh, yes.—N—no, I don’t think you’d think so—some people might, but we don’t. Matter of taste, you know.—How’s the ship?—That’s good.—Biff, too?—What? Oh, ice out of the bay. Bully!—No—it didn’t work till just now. Too low down.—Why, on top of the South Pole.—Ha, ha, yes.—No. Temple of worship.—Yes, high! High as Washington monument!—Why didn’t we try it before?—Why, we—that is—we’ve been busy—very busy!—Doing? Us? Oh, why, we’ve been—that is—we—we’ve been studying habits—and customs—customs of the people.—Yes, interesting.—Yes.”

I had been so absorbed in Gale’s one-sided dialogue that I had forgotten the presence of those about us. He ceased speaking now, for a moment, evidently listening to a lengthier communication. Recalling myself, I glanced about at the others, wondering how much or how little of it they had comprehended. Probably very little, yet the effect upon them had been startling. They had witnessed our sudden transformation from people not greatly different to themselves into what must have appeared to them unholy barbarians—wild untamed savages, awakened to a fierce and to them brutal frenzy by the unseen electric summons. In their faces was a horror and condemnation never before written there. An awakening, indeed, had followed the galvanic touch. Gale, all unconscious of this, now broke loose again.

“No, we haven’t done anything yet in that line. They don’t need any missionary work here, or homes, but they need everything else. I was just telling Nick a scheme a while ago. We felt a little discouraged, then, because we couldn’t get word from the ship, but I’m waked up now, and we’ll make things hum. We’ll get franchises from the government for electric lights and trolley lines, and steamboat traffic, and we’ll build some factories, and I’ll put a head-light on this temple, and an elevator inside, and we’ll lay out additions in all directions. Vacant property here as far as you can see, and just going to waste. Of course we’ll have to fix up some easy way to get people over the ice-wall, and run sledge trains over the snow between here and Bottle Bay, like they do in the Klondike. It may take a year or two to get the place opened up, but we can do it, and when we do, it’ll be the greatest spot on earth. We didn’t know just how we were going to get out of here before, though we haven’t worried any, but now you and Biff can take the yacht back to New York and make up a big expedition. You’ll have to bring a lot of stuff we didn’t have this time, and a lot of money—small money—silver change, and nickels. These jays haven’t got any, and don’t know what it is, but it won’t take ’em long to find out when they find they can get it for some of their stuff and give it back for trolley rides. Nick and I’ll just camp right up here on this temple, and we’ll plan the whole thing, so——”

But Ferratoni, who had risen, at this point laid his hand on Gale’s arm. I did not hear what he whispered, but Gale suddenly handed me the apparatus, and they drew apart. I was anxious to talk with Edith, but I had been taking note of those about us, and I had rather more anxiety just then concerning developments close at hand. Gale and Ferratoni stood before the Princess and the others assembled near. The Princess began speaking and Ferratoni translated to Gale, whose knowledge of the Antarctic converse was an uncertain quantity. Mr. Sturritt and I drew into the circle to listen. Perhaps not for a thousand years had there been such a turbulence of spirit in the Land of the Sloping Sun.

The Princess and the others, Ferratoni said, had been able to understand, through him, something of Mr. Gale’s plans, as briefly outlined to his daughter. As a people they were opposed to such innovations, and they earnestly deprecated the state of mind and sudden change of attitude occasioned in us by the renewal of the telephone connection with our vessel and friends.

They reasoned, he said, that if a very small thing like the telephone had produced upon us results so manifest, and so unpleasant to behold, they were sure that still larger mechanisms—of the size of a trolley car, for instance—would be a national calamity, and result only in demoralization and ruin. They therefore protested most vigorously against a further pursuit of these schemes, and suggested that even the telephone itself be instantly demolished.

The Princess, personally, was not opposed to any appliance that would benefit her people without destroying their lives or repose of spirit, but the radical changes contemplated in the mind of our Admiral were abhorrent to her, and she would not be responsible for our welfare or even our personal safety unless these plans were immediately abandoned. The matter of some new means of dispelling the long dark she would be glad to consider. Even some easier method of ascending the temple might——

But this gave Gale an opportunity to present his case, which he did with considerable force. He made an address in favor of mechanical progress, well worthy of recording here if I could remember it. Ferratoni translated rapidly, and I could see that the Princess and her companion were somewhat impressed. As had been shown by her attempted invention for lighting, she was really more inclined to such advancement than most of her race, while those about her were the staunchest of her followers. She made little reply, however, to Gale’s speech, though her general attitude suggested that the matter in it might be taken under advisement. The telephone was not immediately destroyed, and I was now permitted to have a brief and quiet conversation with Edith Gale—a conversation which the reader’s imagination will best supply.

At the end I had spoken of the rare beauty and qualities of the Princess and how we were trying to convert her to our way of thinking.

“Is she really so beautiful? And are the others too? Daddy thought I wouldn’t care for them——”

“Um—did he? Oh, but you’d love the Princess. She is so beautiful and so—so gentle——”

A pause, then—

“Nicholas!—Hello! Nicholas!”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t try to convert the Princess, if I were you!”

As we prepared to descend to the waiting barges, Gale was inclined to be in good spirits over the prospect ahead. But I noticed that the Princess seemed more disquieted than I had ever seen her, and that Ferratoni, and the others, looked somber and unhappy.

And now, too, for the first time since our arrival, we saw that a storm-cloud had gathered upon the horizon—a blackness that rose swiftly and extinguished the sun.

Quick lightning parted it here and there and the roll of distant thunder came ominously. A portentous dark settled on the lands below us, and the waters of the lake became spectral. A few drops of rain fell.

A canopy was brought from the temple and lifted above the Princess. Silence came upon us. The smile faded from Gale’s features, and Mr. Sturritt’s face grew pale and anxious.

For myself, I had the feeling of being a part of some weird half-waking dream, in which fact and fantastic imagery mingled with a sense of heavy foreboding. Only the recent words of Edith Gale lingered as a ray from some far-off beacon.