They swayed and tossed, and then, like water racing through an opened
dam, they swept upon the bridge-head. On and on they pushed, like the
bore of a mighty tide. The frog-men strove against them, clubbing,
spearing, tearing them. But even those worst smitten seemed not to
fall. On they pushed, driving forward, irresistible--a battering ram
of flesh and bone. They clove the masses of the _Akka_, pressing them
to the sides of the bridge and over. Through the open gates they
forced them--for there was no room for the frog-men to stand against
that implacable tide.

Then those of the _Akka_ who were left turned their backs and ran. 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.