“If the world is at stake,” he whispered, “why of course there’s only one thing to do. God knows I never was afraid when I was fighting up there⁠—and many a better man than me has gone West with shell and bullet for the same idea; but these things aren’t shell and bullet⁠—but I hadn’t Lakla then⁠—and it’s the damned doubt I have behind it all.”

He turned to the Three⁠—and did I in their poise sense a rigidity, an anxiety that sat upon them as alienly as would divinity upon men?

“Tell me this, Silent Ones,” he cried. “If we do this, Lakla and I, is it sure you are that you can slay the⁠—Thing, and save my world? Is it sure you are?”