We heard the clang of the golden wings of the portal, and none too soon to keep out the first of the Dweller's dreadful hordes.
Now upon the cavern ledge and over the whole length of the bridge there were none but the dead-alive, men and women, black-polled _ladala_, sloe-eyed Malays, slant-eyed Chinese, men of every race that sailed the seas--milling, turning, swaying, like leaves caught in a sluggish current.
The bell notes became sharper, more insistent.

At the cavern mouth a radiance began to grow--a gleaming from which the atoms of diamond dust seemed to try to flee.

As the radiance grew and the crystal notes rang nearer, every head of that hideous multitude turned stiffly, slowly toward the right, looking toward the far bridge end; their eyes fixed and glaring; every face an inhuman mask of rapture and of horror! A movement shook them.

Those in the centre began to stream back, faster and ever faster, leaving motionless deep ranks on each side.
Back they flowed until from golden doors to cavern mouth a wide lane stretched, walled on each side by the dead-alive.
The far radiance became brighter; it gathered itself at the end of the dreadful lane; it was shot with sparklings and with pulsings of polychromatic light.

The crystal storm was intolerable, piercing the ears with countless tiny lances; brighter still the radiance.
From the cavern swirled the Shining One! The Dweller paused, seemed to scan the island of the Silent Ones half doubtfully; then slowly, stately, it drifted out upon the bridge.
Closer it drew; behind it glided Yolara at the head of a company of her dwarfs, and at her side was the hag of the Council whose face was the withered, shattered echo of her own.
Slower grew the Dweller's pace as it drew nearer.