“Give us a chance, Lenard.” Carl’s tones beat urgently against the barbarian, who sat with lowered head. “You’re Chief up there, now that your father’s gone; they’ll listen to you. Swear a truce with us. Swear it now and then go back and make your people keep it!”
“We may be able to hold out for three years—” said Lenard doubtfully.
“That’s fine,” said Carl. “Oh, that’ll do! We’ll have something to show you by that time, something to share with you, that you can use to better your own lot without taking from anyone else.”
“I’ll arrange for food to be sent to you during the truce,” said Ralph. “You can pay us back later, when these old things make you better able to afford it. Peace,” he added, “is kept by the good will and strength of the peaceful.”
“I’ll do it!” exclaimed Lenard. He thrust his hand out. “By Jenzik, you’ve been brave enemies and I think you’ll be good friends!”
Carl and Ralph clasped hands with him. Gladness filled the boy’s heart.
It would be a mighty task, this rebuilding. Lifetimes must pass before it was completed. But what better work could anyone ask for?
Carl went softly to the door and opened it and looked out into the summer night. It was dark now, but dawn was not far off.