Furiously we fought; the fire passed over the dwellings of men; we slept in the blood of those who kept the gates_.'" "But do you feel it, Vance ?" she cried, her hand flashing out and resting on his arm.
"I begin to feel, I think.

The north has taught me, is teaching me.

The old thing's come back with new significance.

Yet I do not know.

It seems a tremendous egotism, a magnificent dream." "But you are not a negro or a Mongol, nor are you descended from the negro or Mongol." "Yes," he considered, "I am my father's son, and the line goes back to the sea-kings who never slept under the smoky rafters of a roof or drained the ale-horn by inhabited hearth.