"
Which is all that Watson told. But first he breathed a prayer to
One who is above all things occult or physical. He did not
understand where he was nor how he had got there; he only knew
that his fate was hanging on a toss of chance.
He faced the Rhamdas without flinching; and half closing his eyes
and speaking very clearly, he searched his memory for what he
recalled of the old professor. He tried to describe him just as he
had appeared that day in the ethics class, when he made the great
announcement; the trim, stubby figure of Professor Holcomb, the
pink, healthy skin, the wise, grey, kindly eyes, and the close-
cropped, pure white beard: all, just as Chick had known him. One
chance in millions; he took it.
"That is the Jarados as I have seen him; a short, elderly, wise,
BEARDED man."
There was not a breath or a murmur in comment. All hung upon his
words; there was not a sound in the room as he ceased speaking,
only the throb of his own heart and the subtle pounding of caution
in his veins. He had spoken. If only there might be a resemblance!
The Geos stepped forward a pace. "It is well said. If the truth
has been spoken, there shall be room for no dispute. It shall be
known throughout all Thomahlia that the Chosen of the Jarados has
spoken. Let the Leaf be opened!"
Chick never knew just what happened, much less how it was
accomplished.
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