We looked at each other, seeking council, decision.
"Chiu-Ming," Drake spoke.

"We can't leave him like that.

At least let's cover him from the vultures." "Come." The woman had reached the mouth of the fissure.
"I'm afraid! Oh, Martin--I'm afraid." Ruth reached little trembling hands to her tall brother.
"Come!" Norhala called again.

There was an echo of harshness, a clanging, peremptory and inexorable, in the chiming.
Ventnor shrugged his shoulders.
"Come, then," he said.
With one last look at the Chinese, the lammergeiers already circling about him, we walked to the crevice.

Norhala waited, silent, brooding until we passed her; then glided behind us.
Before we had gone ten paces I saw that the place was no fissure.