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 * * * * *

VOL. V, No. 3 CONTENTS MARCH, 1931

COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSO

 _Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "Beyond the Vanishing Point. "_

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN CAME TO MIRAMAR CHARLES W. DIFFIN 297

 _It is Magic against Magic As Garry Connell Bluffs for His Life with a Prehistoric Savage in the Heart of Sentinel Mountain. _

BEYOND THE VANISHING POINT RAY CUMMINGS 314

 _The Tale of a Golden Atom--an Astounding Adventure in Size. _ (A Complete Novelette. )

TERRORS UNSEEN HARL VINCENT 360

 _One after Another the Invisible Robots Escape Shelton's Control--and Their Trail Leads Straight to the Gangster Chief Cadorna. _

PHALANXES OF ATLANS F. V. W. MASON 376

 _Never Did an Aviator Ride a More Amazing Sky-Steed Than Alden on His Desperate Dash to the Great Jarmuthian Ziggurat. _ (Conclusion of a Two-Part Novel. )

THE METEOR GIRL JACK WILLIAMSON 404

 _Through the Complicated Space-Time of the Fourth Dimension Goes Charlie King in an Attempt to Rescue the Meteor Girl. _

THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 417

 _A Meeting Place for Readers of Astounding Stories. _

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Issued monthly by Readers' Guild, Inc. , 80 Lafayette Street, New York, N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Francis P. Pace, Secretary. Entered assecond-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office at New York, N. Y. , under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a Trade Mark inthe U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men's List. Foradvertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co. , Inc. , 25 Vanderbilt Ave. , New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave. , Chicago. 

 * * * * *

When the Mountain Came To Miramar

_By Charles W. Diffin_

[Illustration: "_That'll be all from you, " he told the black one. _]

[Sidenote: It is magic against magic as Garry Connell bluffs for hislife with a prehistoric savage in the heart of Sentinel Mountain. ]

The first tremor that set the timbers of the house to creaking broughtGarry Connell out of his bunk and into the middle of the floor. Thenthe floor heaved and 'dobe walls swayed while the man fought to keephis footing and pull himself through the doorway to the safety of thedark night. The earthquake that came with the spring of 1932 was on. 

He was nauseated with that deathly sickness that only an earthquakegives, and he dropped breathlessly in the shelter of a date palm whilethe earth beneath him rolled and groaned in agony. A deeper roar wasrising above all other sounds, and Connell looked up at the nearby topof Sentinel Mountain. 

The stars of the desert land showed clear; the grim blackness ofSentinel's lone peak rose abruptly from the sand of the desert floorin darker silhouette against the velvet of a midnight sky. And themountain was roaring. 

Softened by the distance, the deep, grumbling bass sang thunderinglythrough and above the other noises of the night, as if old Sentinelitself were voicing its remonstrance against this disturbance of itsage-long rest. 

The grumbling died to a clatter of falling boulders a hundred yardsaway at the mountain's base, and Connell's eyes discerned a puff ofvaporous gray, a cloud of wind-blown dust, high up on the mountain'sflank. 

"Holy cats!" said Garry explosively, "what a slide! That must haveripped the old boy wide open. "

His eyes followed the white scar far up on the mountainside, followedit down to the last loosened stones that had crashed among the datepalms of Miramar ranch. "I don't just like the idea of the wholemountain moving in on me, " he told himself; "I'll have to go up andlook at that to-morrow. "

 * * * * *

It was afternoon of the following day when Garry rolled blankets andfood into a snug pack and prepared for the ascent. "Guess likely I'llsleep out to-night, " he mused and looked at the pistol he held in hishand. 

"I don't want that thing slapping against me, " he argued; "too darnedhot! And there's nothing to use a gun on up on Sentinel. .. . Oh, well!"He threw the holster upon his bunk and dropped the automatic into thepack he was rolling. "I'll take it along. Might meet up with arattler. "

He brushed the sandy hair from his wet forehead and straightened tohis full six feet of slender height before he slipped the straps ofhis pack about his shoulders. And a broad grin made pleasant linesabout his gray eyes as he realized the boyish curiosity that wasdriving him to a stiff climb in the heat of the day. 

There was no real trail up the thousand-foot slope of SentinelMountain. Prospectors had been over it, doubtless, in earlier days, but in all of Garry's twenty-one years no one besides himself had evermade the ascent. 

There was nothing in all that solitary, desolate peak to call them;nothing, for that matter, to beckon Garry, except the hot desert days, the cool breath of evening and the glory of nights when the stars hunglow over all the miles of sand and sagebrush that reached far out tothe rippling sand-dunes shimmering in the distance. Nothing, that is, but the "feel" of the desert--and young Garry Connell was desert-bornand bred. 

He stopped once and dropped his pack while he mopped his wet face. From this point he could see his own ranch spread below him. Miramar, he had named it--"Beautiful Sea. " The name was half an affectionatemockery of this land where the nearest water was fifty miles away, andhalf because of the sea of blue that he looked at now. Garry had neverceased to wonder at the mirage. 

It was always the same in the summer heat--a phantom ocean of water. Garry's eyes loved to follow the quivering blue expanse that seemed socool and deep. It rippled softly away to end in a line of white, likedistant breakers on the horizon's rolling dunes. 

This had been the bed of an ocean in some distant past, and thatancient ocean could never have seemed more real than this; yet Garryknew that this sea would vanish with the setting sun. He had watchedit often. 

 * * * * *

A hundred yards farther and he stopped again. It was no well-troddenpath that Garry followed, but he knew his landmarks. There was the bigsplit rock a half mile ahead, and the three-branched cactus beside it. But between these and the place where Garry stood was a fan-shapedsweep of boulders--and this where smooth going had been before. 

He forgot for the moment all discomfort. He stood staring under thehot sun that cast purple shadows beside the weathered rocks, and hiseyes followed up the scarred mountainside. 

"That whole ledge that stood out up there--that's gone!" he toldhimself. "The whole side of the mountain just shook itself loose. .. . "

Far above, his eyes found another towering mass that reared itselfmenacingly. "That will come down next time, " he said with conviction, "and I don't want to be under it when it breaks loose. " Then hissearching eyes found the lower ledge and its shattered remains. 

It had held a welter of rocks above it as a dam holds the pressure ofwater--and the dam had burst. The torrent of stone from above hadswept into motion and carried with it the accumulation of loose rubblebelow. Where the ledge had been was now a cliff--a sheer wall of rock. It had been covered before by the talus that was swept away. 

Garry's eyes narrowed to see more plainly under the sun's glare. Hewas staring not alone at the cliff but at a shadow within it--a blackshadow in the white face of the cliff itself. 

"That was all covered up before, " Garry stated; "buried for thousandsof years, I suppose. But it can't be a cave; not a natural one, atleast. There are no caves in this rock. "

He stopped at times for breath, and his wonder grew as he climbed andthe black mark took clearer form. At last he stood panting before it, to stare deep into the utter blackness of a passageway beyond anentrance of carved stone. 

It was carved; there was no mistaking it! Here was a passage thatnature had never formed. He took a quick stride forward to see thetool marks that showed on hard walls where symbols and figures ofstrange design were carved. An intrusion of harder rock had formed aroof, and they had cut in below--

"They!" He spoke the word aloud. Who were "they?"

 * * * * *

He remembered the scientist who had stopped at the ranch some timebefore, and he recalled enough of the talk of Aztec and Toltec andMayas to know that none of these old civilizations could explain thethings he saw. 

"This goes way back beyond them--it must, " he reasoned. And there werepictures, long forgotten, that came to his mind to show him a visionfrom the past--figures whose coppery faces shone dark above theirbrilliant, colored robes--slaves, toiling and sweating to drive thistunnel into solid rock. He was suddenly a-quiver with a feeling of thepresence of living things. His breath seemed stifled within him as hestepped into the dark where a pencil of light from his pocket-flashmade the blackness more intense. 

He tried to shake off the feeling, but an indefinable oppression washeavy upon him; the weight of the uncounted centuries these walls hadseen filled him with strange forebodings. 

His feet stumbled and scuffed over chips of stone; he steadied himselfagainst the wall at times as he followed the corridor that went downand still down before him. It turned and twisted, then leveled off atlast, and Garry Connell drew himself up sharply with a quick-drawnbreath. 

His flash was making a circle of light a dozen steps ahead, and showeda litter of sharp stone fragments. And, scattered over them, a tangleof bones shone white; one skull stood upright to stare mockingly fromhollow sockets. The sudden white of them was startling in the blackpit. 

"Bones!" he said, and forced himself to disregard the echoes thattried to shout him down; "just bones! And the old-timers that worethem haven't been using them for thousands of years. " He moved forwardwith determined steps to the end of the passage that finished in solidstone. He stopped abruptly. At closer range was something that frozehim to a tense, waiting crouch. 

This wall of solid stone--it was not solid as it had seemed. There wasa doorway; the stone was swung inward; and at one side in astraight-marked crack, he saw a thread of light. 

He snapped off his own flash. Someone was there! Someone had beatenhim to it! He held himself crouched and rigid at the thought. But whocould it be? The utter silence and the steady, unchanging, pale-greenlight showed him the folly of the thought. There was no one there;there couldn't be anyone. 

 * * * * *

His hand, that trembled with excitement, reached across and over theskeleton remains posted like a ghostly guard before the door. He threwhis weight upon the stone. 

Its bearings groaned, but it moved at his touch. The stone swungslowly and ponderously into a silent room, and Garry Connell staredwide-eyed and wondering where rock walls, in carved and coloredbrilliance reflected the softest of diffused light. 

A great room, hewn from the solid rock!--and Garry tried to see it andall that it held at one glance. He grasped the extent of the stonevault, a hundred feet across; the distant walls were plain in the softlight. 

One high point of flashing color caught his eye and held it inmarveling amazement. A thing of beauty and grace. It was a shining, silvery shape like a mushroom growth; it towered high in air, almostto the ceiling, a slender rod that swelled and opened to a curved andgleaming head. Graceful as a fairy parasol, huge enough to shelter agiant, it was like nothing he had ever seen. 

But there was no time now for conjectures. He made no effort tounderstand; he wanted only to see what might be here; and his eyesflashed quickly over sculptured walls and a stone floor where metalboxes were arranged in orderly rows. 

Hundreds of them, he estimated; huge cases, some eight or ten feetlong. Two nearby were raised above the floor on bases of carved stone. Lusterless gray in color--metal, unmistakably--and in them. .. . 

"No use getting all hopped up over treasure hunting, " Garry had toldhimself. But under all his incredulous amazement had been flickeringthoughts of what he might find. 

He stared hungrily at those two boxes near him. Each of the hundredswas big enough to hold a fortune. He reached for a metal bar besidethe scattered bones, and, like a man in a sleep-walking dream, hestepped across those relics of earlier men and entered the room thatthey had guarded. 

The light stopped him for a moment. He puzzled over it; staredwonderingly at a circle of glowing radiance in the roof of stone. Itreminded him of something . .. The watch on his wrist . .. Yes, that wasthe answer--some radio-active substance. His eyes came back to thenearest chest, and he jammed the point of his corroded bar beneath theflange of a tight-fitting lid. 

 * * * * *

The hidden room was cool, but Garry Connell wiped the sweat from hiseyes when he ceased his frantic efforts. The metal bar clanged loudlyupon the floor beside him. He stood, breathing heavily, his eyes onthe metal cover that refused to move. And in the silence there came tohim again that strange, prickling apprehension. He caught himselflooking quickly behind him as if to find another person there. 

His eyes were accustomed now to the pale light, and the sculpturedfigures on the walls stood out with startling distinctness. Garryturned to look at the nearer wall and the figure that was repeatedover and over again. 

It was a man, tall and lean, his robes, undimmed by the years, blazedin crimson and gold. But the face above! Garry shivered in spite ofhimself at the devilish ugliness the artist had copied. It was deadblack in color, with slitted eyes that had been touched up artfullyto bring out their venomous stare. The head itself rose up to arounded point that added to the inhuman brutality of the face. 

He was seated on a throne, Garry saw, and other figures, lessskilfully carved, were kneeling before him. Again, he was standingabove a prostrate enemy, a triple-pointed spear raised to deliver thefinal blow. 

Silently, Garry let his eyes follow around the room with itsrepetition of the horrible being who was evidently a king. Then hewhistled softly. "Nice kind of hombre, he must have been, " he said. And, "Boy, " he told the carved image familiarly, "whoever you were, you've been dead a long time, and I don't mind telling you I'm glad ofit. "

He was slowly circling the first casket. Beyond it was the slender rodwith its mushroom head that seemed more like a bell as he looked frombelow. The head's inner surface was emblazoned, like the figures onthe wall, with crimson and gold in strange designs. He saw now thatthe base of it was connected with a smaller box, placed like the twobeside it on a stone pedestal. 

He came slowly beside it to study the box with narrowed eyes. Heexpected the metal cover would be as immovable as the others, and hestarted back and caught his breath sharply as the metal raised at histouch and the green radiance from above flashed back from within thebox in a thousand scintillant lights. Then he stooped to see thebrilliant, silvery sheen of metal wheels that moved on jeweledbearings. 

 * * * * *

A mechanism of some sort--but what? he wondered. He had some knowledgeof the stream of electrons that discharged continuously from the lightabove, and he knew how they could charge an electroscope that wouldautomatically discharge to produce motion. He nodded inhalf-understanding as the fluttering gold-leaf fell and allowed atiny wheel to move one notch in its escapement. 

"Clockworks!" he told himself--it was as near as he could come to aname for the machine--"and it's been running here all this time. .. . What for, I wonder? What was it supposed to do?"

He stared again at the bell-shape towering above him, but its purposewas beyond guessing: it was a part of the machine. His eyes came backto the mechanism itself. There was a splinter of stone. .. . Garryreached for it unthinkingly, but his hand was checked in mid-air. 

The fragment was wedged beneath a tiny lever, holding it erect. "That's the answer, " Garry whispered. "The machine was left open, "--hefelt of the cover that had been dented by some heavy blow, and sawsharp splinters of rock beneath his feet--"a rock fell from the roof, flaked off and dropped onto the machine, and a splinter jammed thislittle lever. But the machine has been ticking along. .. . "

His fingers reached for the stone. 

"Let's go!" he said, and grinned broadly at the thoughts that were inhis mind. "Let's see what the machine would have done!"

The fragment came away within his hand, and he saw the lever fallslowly. There was motion within the case--wheels and shining spheresthat touched one upon another were spinning in gleaming circles ofsilvery green--and from above he heard the first faint whisper of asound. 

It came from the bell, and Garry drew back to stare upward. The firstsoft humming of the clear bell-note was incredibly sweet. It rose inpitch while the volume increased, till the musical note was lost inthe rising roar that resounded from walls and roof. Higher it rose; itwas a scream that was human in its agony, prodigious in its volume!

 * * * * *

Garry Connell stood trembling with unnamed fear. This sound wasunbearable; it beat upon his ears; it battered his whole body; itsearched out every quivering nerve and tore at it with fingers offire. Still higher!--and the scream was piercing and torturing hisbrain. He felt the jerk of uncontrollable muscles. 

The whirling machine was a blur of light, and he longed with everyfibre of his tortured mind to throw himself upon it--intoit!--anything to end the unbearable impact from on high. His body, assailed by a clamor that was physical torment, could not move; thevibrations beat him down with crushing force, while the shriekingvoice rose higher, then grew faint, and, with a final whisper, died tonothingness. 

And still Garry felt himself sinking; the room was blurred; theexcruciating agony of tortured nerves melted into a lethargy thatswept through him. Dimly he sensed that the monstrous, quivering, bell-topped thing was still launching its devastating rain ofvibrations; they were above the range of hearing; but he felt his bodyquivering in response to the unheard note. Then even these vaguefragments of understanding left him. The towering, soundless thing wasindistinct . .. It vanished in the darkness that closed about. .. . 

He was upon the floor in a crouching heap when the tremors that shookhim ceased. His mind, in the same instant, was cleared, and he knewthat the soundless vibrations from the bell had ended. A wave ofthankfulness flooded through him, and he luxuriated in the uttersilence of the room--until that silence was broken by another sound. 

It was hard and metallic, like the click of a withdrawn bolt, and camefirst from the case at his side. A second sharp rap replied from theother raised casket, then an echoing tattoo of metallic impactsrattled and clattered in the resounding room. Each of the hundreds ofcaskets was adding its voice to the clacking chorus. 

 * * * * *

The paralysis that had held Garry's muscles was gone, and he cameslowly to his feet to see the edge of the cover he had tried vainlyto move, rising smoothly in the air. His eyes darted about; the secondcasket was opening; beyond were countless others; the room was alivewith silent motion where metal lids lifted like petals of flowersunfolding to the sun. 

The machine had done it! The conviction came to him abruptly. Thosevibrations that had beaten him down had done this: some unlockingmechanism within each case had been actuated when the vibrationsreached the proper pitch. Then the thoughts were driven from his mindby a more thrilling conviction: The caskets were open! The treasure!Who could know what some of them might contain? He took one quick steptoward the nearer of the two. 

One step!--and his reaching hands stopped motionless above the opencase. The contents of the box were plain before him--and he stared inhorror at the black, half-naked figure of a man as silent and unmovingas its counterpart upon the wall. 

Black as a carving in ebony, it was the face that held Garry's eyes. He saw the pointed head, the thin lips half-drawn from snarling teeth, the expression of brutal savagery that even this frozen stillnesscould not conceal. 

The eyes were closed; Garry saw their slitted lids. He was looking atthem when they quivered and twitched. The lids opened slowly, drewback from staring eyes that were cold and dead--eyes that camesuddenly to life, that turned and stared unwinkingly, horribly, intohis. 

 * * * * *

Garry's lips were moving as he drew back in slow retreat, but he heardno sound of his own voice, only a husky whisper that said over andover again: "Mummies! Caskets of mummies! And they're coming back tolife!"

Suspended animation. He had heard of such things. Dim, fleetingremembrance of what he had read came flashingly to him--toads that hadlived a thousand years sealed up in rock--but this, a human thing, aman!--no, no!--it couldn't come to life; not after all this time!

The pointed head, the ugly, menacing face and the body of dead blackthat rose slowly within the casket gave his argument the lie. Indreadful, living reality he saw the thing before him as it stretchedits corded neck, extended and flexed its long, black arms and breatheddeeply through lips drawn thin. Then, with a bound of returningenergy, it leaped out and down to stand half-naked and black, toweringthreateningly above his head. 

And Garry, too stunned to feel a sense of fear, looked first at theliving face before him and then at the carvings done in stone. Therewas too much here for instant comprehension; his reason could notfollow fast enough where facts were leading, and his mind seemedgroping for some certain, proven thing. 

"It's the same one that's on the wall, " he explained painstakingly tohimself. "It's the king, the old boy himself! I said he would be a badhombre; I said he was a bad one--"

He saw the other raise his hands threateningly, and he crouched tomeet the attack. But the black hands dropped, and the scowling faceturned, while Garry's eyes followed toward a sound of movement in thesecond casket. 

The green light flooded down, and Garry Connell glanced quickly at thedoorway. Too many of these blacks and this would be no safe place forhim. He was expecting another apparition like the first; he would havethought himself prepared against any further surprise, but his grayeyes opened wide at what the light disclosed. 

 * * * * *

There was the casket, gray and lusterless on its low, stone base. Itscover, like the others, stood erect, and above the nearer edge an armwas raising. But it was a white arm, and it ended in a slim, whitehand!--its rounded softness held in clear outline against the background of gray, until the arm fell that the hand might grip the metaledge. 

Garry's eyes held in wondering fascination upon those slender whitefingers. The hand of a woman--a girl!--what marvel of miracles wasthis? He held his silent pose while he stared at the face thatappeared before him. 

It was milk-white against the dull gray metal beyond, the white ofdeath itself, until returning circulation brought a flush of pink thatcrept slowly to the rounded cheeks. Dark hair cascaded about theshoulders to mingle with a lacy veil of golden threads. A film ofgolden lace wrapped about her--her robes had gone to dust, vanishedwith the vanished years--and only the threads of gold with which therobe was shot remained, a futile concealment for the slim white of hershoulders, the soft curves of rounded breasts. But Garry's eyes wereheld by the eyes that looked and locked with his. 

Dark eyes, deep and steady, yet glowing softly with the wonder of thisawakening. Windows, crystal clear, through which shone softly a lightthat filled him through and through!

Alluring as was the rounded whiteness of the form so thinly veiled, itwas not this nor the childlike beauty of the face that held himspellbound. Garry Connell's only love had been the desert, and now hewas filled and shaken by the glamour from within these thrilling eyes. 

A rasping word made echoes in the silence, and Garry saw the girl'seyes widen as she turned them upon the black one, who had spoken. Hesaw her face lose its color and go dead white, and plainly her wideeyes showed the fears that swept in upon her with returningremembrance. 

 * * * * *

Garry followed her gaze to the wild figure whose slitted eyesglittered in savage triumph and possessiveness at the white beauty ofthe trembling girl. The lean figure spoke again in that rasping, unintelligible voice--he addressed the girl now--and the tone sent astrange prickling of animosity through every fibre of the watchingman. 

The black one took one stride forward; the girl, in a flash of whiteand gold, sprang from her resting place to take shelter behind thehigh casket. Her eyes came back to Garry's, and the call for helpthough voiceless was none the less real. 

Then her pale lips moved, and she called to him with a clear voicethat uttered unknown words. 

Garry came from the spell that bound him, and with a quick rush madebetween her and the advancing man. He landed tense and crouching, andhis voice was hoarse with excitement when he spoke. 

"That'll be all from you, " he told the black one. 

His words could mean nothing to this savage, but the tone that rangthrough them, and his crouching, ready pose, must have been plain. Theinky face beneath the high-pointed dome of head was twisted with rage;the eyes glared at this being who dared to oppose him. But the blackone paused, then stepped backward to the casket where he had been. 

Garry retreated a few slow steps to the end of the metal box thatsheltered the girl. "Can't you understand me?" he asked. "Am Idreaming? What has happened? Who are you, and who is this black beast?What does it all mean?"

Again he was sure that mere speech useless, but he felt that he had tospeak, to say something, anything, to prove the reality of his ownwaking self and of the wild, nightmare experience. 

He saw the crouching girl rise to her full height; he saw the movementof her hand as she swept the dark hair away from her face, and thefilm of gold lace clung closely about her as she came to his side. One hand was outstretched to rest, light and cool, upon his forehead. 

 * * * * *

He heard her voice, so soft and liquid yet so charged with terror. Shespoke meaningless words and phrases, but at the touch of her hand uponhis face he started abruptly. 

Did the words themselves take on meaning and coherence, or was itsomething within himself?--Garry could not have told. But, with thestartling clarity of a radio switched full on, he got the impress ofher thoughts, and his own brain took them and put them into words thathe knew. 

"You will help me, you will save me, " the words were saying. "You areone of us, I know. You are a stranger, but your skin is white; you arenot of the tribe of Horab. "

Garry was motionless and listening. He knew he was sensing herthoughts--she was communicating with him by some telepathic magic--andhe knew, as he caught the words, that Horab was the black one therebefore him, reaching and feeling within the casket where he had slept. Horab--a savage king of a savage land--

"He captured me, " the words continued in breathless haste. "I am fromZahn: do you know the good land of Zahn? I am Luhra. Horab capturedme; carried me here to this island; it was yesterday he brought mehere. He put me to sleep, and he put his men to sleep, hundreds of hischosen warriors. He worked his magic, and he said we would sleep forone hundred summers. But it was yesterday. And now you will save me;my father is a great man; he will reward you--"

The sentences flashed almost incoherently into his mind, but ceased ata sound and stirring from the room at their backs. 

Garry needed a moment for the substance of the message to register. Hehad heard it as truly as if she had spoken: Horab had capturedher--yesterday!. .. And his own lips that had been loose withastonishment closed to a grim smile. 

"Yesterday!" She thought it was yesterday that her long night hadbegun. Did Horab know the truth? Garry was suddenly certain that hedid. Horab's plans had miscarried; he could not know how far in adistant past was that day when he had placed himself and this girl intheir caskets, safe in their mountain tomb. 

 * * * * *

Only an instant for these thoughts to form--then his eyes were steadyupon the tall savage who had found what he sought in the big metalcase. Horab, king of a vanished race, turned now with a heavy scepterin his hand; and its jeweled head flashed brilliantly as he raised ithigh in air and shouted an echoing command into the room. A white handwas tugging at Garry's shoulder, a soft body clinging close, to turnhim where new danger threatened. 

The other caskets! He had forgotten them, and he saw the nearer onesalive with struggling forms. A black man-shape, with sullen, animalface and pointed head, came slowly erect and staggered upon the floor. Another--and another! There were scores of the black, naked men whoscrambled from the nearer caskets and swayed drunkenly upon theirfeet. 

Garry stood tense, his mind a chaos of half-formed plans. This onebrute he might handle, but the whole tribe--that was too large anorder. Yet he knew with an unshakable conviction that he would carrythis girl from their evil clutches or die in the trying. 

Feminine charms had failed to interest Garry in that world outside, but now the message of these soft eyes, the appealing beauty of thislovely face, proud and unafraid despite her fears, the hand so softand trusting upon his face!--there had something entered into GarryConnell's lonely life that struck deep within him and found a readyresponse. 

He swept one arm about the soft, yielding body beneath its wisp ofgarment, and he swung her behind him as he set himself to meet theattack. And he flashed her a look that must have carried a message, for the trembling lips were framing a ghost of a smile as her eyes methis. 

Garry's thoughts darted to the gun, but his tightly-wrapped pack wasin the passage outside. He prayed for a moment's time that he mightmeet this mob pistol in hand, and he half turned; but no time wasgiven. The leader was shouting orders, his harsh voice resounded inshattering echoes throughout the stone vault, and the horde of blackssurged forward at his command. 

 * * * * *

A mass of lean bodies, with faces ugly and brutal where sleep-filledeyes opened wide and glaring! They crowded upon him, and Garry met therush with a rain of straight rights and lefts into the nearest faces. He was carried backward to the wall by the weight of their numbers, but he saw some go down for the count. 

The room seemed filled with leaping, shouting men. Their shrill criesechoed in a tumult of discord, and above all Garry heard the hoarsescreams of their leader. 

There were fists and arms clubbing at his head. He warded them off, then sprang from the wall, leaping outward and sideways, where therewas room for free swings of his pounding fists. Another black facewent blank under the impact of his blow--a second--and a third!

He was giving ground slowly as the others came on. Then beyond thecrowding figures he saw one who held a trident spear high in air. Theweapon was poised; the metal points shone in the green light--pointsthat would tear his body to shreds at a single blow. 

Garry paused but an instant, then opened his clenched fists to clutchthe lean neck of an enemy before him. He whirled the man's body andheld it as a shield while he reached vainly to grip at the thrustingspear. Dimly he saw the flash of white and gold where the girl, Luhra, threw her own body upon the armed figure and clung indesperation to the shaft of the deadly weapon. 

 * * * * *

Garry hung fast to the struggling body, that was his shield; therewere other spears now that flashed in the air. He loosed one hand andlanded a short jab in the face of a savage whose hands were at histhroat. The blow was light, and he was amazed to see the man staggerand fall. There were others who swayed helplessly and stumbled totheir knees. Spears rang sharply, clattering upon the stone. .. . Theywere falling. The body he held went suddenly limp within his arms andsagged heavily to the floor. .. . 

Garry saw the one who had threatened him drop; he took the girl withhim as he fell, and his spear flew wildly from his open hand. Garrywas alone!--and the enemy was only a tangle of sprawling bodies wherethe twitching of an outflung arm marked the last sign of life. 

He was breathing hard, for some of the enemies' blows had landed, andhe staggered as he wiped a trickle of blood from his eyes. No time tofigure what this meant, but the blacks were certainly out of it. Beyond the huddled bodies the tall figure of Horab leaped wildly inair as he sprang forward, and in the same instant Garry threw himselfbetween the black menace and the prostrate girl. 

He staggered again as he landed from his wild leap, and he called forhis last reserve of strength to put power behind the blow that helaunched for the snarling face above. 

The heavy scepter swung high, and was falling as Garry struck. He sawthe blow start; saw the fiery arc the jeweled head made in descendinglike a mace above his head. Then the face of Horab vanished, and theroom was a whirling place of flashing red and yellow before blacknessblotted it out. .. . 

 * * * * *

Garry awoke to blink stupidly at a green light above him. His head wasa blinding, throbbing pain that blurred his thoughts. 

It cleared slowly. The gleaming figure of a girl was rising from thefloor. His aching eyes saw the white of her young body through thedull glow of golden lace. Her eyes came to his, and sharply herealized that this was no dream--this cave whose walls seemed swaying, the face that was staring pitifully at him, and, beyond, in a ghastlygreen light, the dark silhouette of a lean man who bent his pointedhead above a chest. 

Connell's mind was a whirl of snarled thoughts and emotions, ofpuzzled wonder and fighting rage; yet strangely through and above themall was a feeling of pure joy in the message of the eyes in a facethat was utterly lovely. 

The black figure had opened the chest. Garry saw the luminous greenabout it shot through with the reflected radiance of many gems. Jewelscascaded brilliantly from the lean black hands as they withdrew agolden cord. Part of some gem-incrusted fabric, it was, that he toreroughly from its rotted fastenings before coming swiftly to the stillhelpless body of Connell. 

Garry's struggles were futile; his hands were tied before him. Theshooting pain of a prodding spear brought him from the paralyzingnumbness that held him, and he came dizzily to his feet. Again thewalls whirled, and he would have fallen headlong but for a lithe, softbody that sprang close to throw white arms about him. 

Through blood-shot eyes he saw Luhra, of the land of Zahn, with headheld high and flashing eyes as she turned squarely to face the savageblack. And he heard the stream of strange sentences that she pouredprotestingly upon him. 

 * * * * *

Her message broke off abruptly. Garry's eyes followed hers to watch asavage king, naked but for the tattered remnants of robes that timehad eaten. He was reaching, into a casket that had once held kinglyraiment--reaching with a lean black hand that brought forth onlyfragments of purple and crimson cloth that went quickly to dust withinhis hands. 

Garry saw the slitted eyes stare in puzzled wonder at the rottedcloth, then glance sharply and inquiringly about. He saw the black oneplace a jeweled head-dress of barbaric splendor upon his ugly, pointedhead, then rise and cross slowly to the heap of bodies. Spear in hand, he passed on to the serried rows of caskets. 

Those nearest were empty, as Garry knew; he had seen the eruption oflife from within them. Horab, with a growled word, moved on to theother caskets that stretched out across the room. The ugly headstooped; again the hands reached down, to come back this time with anempty, gleaming skull. 

Garry thought once of his pistol, but knew in the same thought that hecould never reach it; the spear of Horab would crash through him atthe first movement. He dismissed the thought--forgot it--and forgotall else in the fascination of beholding the sagging lips and thescowling stupefaction on the black face of Horab. And slowly therecame to his throbbing brain an explanation. 

One hundred summers, Luhra had said--Horab had meant to sleep for ahundred years--and the machine that was to waken him had failed tofunction. Ages beyond computing had passed, and these two only, theblack king and the girl, had survived. They had been directly beneaththe light; its flooding energy had brought them safely through thedreamless years. But, for the others, it had been different. 

Those nearest the light had responded to the vibrating call, but theirvitality was gone; their moment of life was short. As for the hundredswho had felt the light but faintly--the skull told the story. Theyhad died as they slept, died thousands of years ago, and theirskeletons were all that remained to mock at their king and thefrustration of his plans. 

 * * * * *

But what was the purpose of the long sleep? Luhra's touch and hersoundless words supplied the answer. 

"Why did he wish this?" her mind said, repeating his question. "Horab's own country was lost; the yellow-ones from across the greatwater had conquered and overrun it. But Horab had planted the seeds ofdisease, and the yellow ones must all die in time. Horab is a king anda worker of magic; he is in league with a devil; he learns his magicof him. We of Zahn, all feared the magic of Horab--" She stopped atthe quiver of rock beneath their feet. 

Garry's mind had cleared, but it was an instant before he knew thatthe movement was not in his own throbbing head. Then the earth tremorcame unmistakably, and his thoughts flashed back to the mass of rockabove the mouth of the cave. If more quakes were coming they must getout, and do it at once--

The black hand of King Horab cast the skull vindictively against thewall, and the clatter of its falling fragments mingled with strangeoaths from the savage lips. Then he came toward the two and Garrysearched his mind desperately for some means of escape. 

The trident spear was aimed, and Garry waited for the throw. He felt, more than saw, the flash of light that was Luhra as she sprang for aspear beside the fallen men. An instant and she was before him, tenseand poised, a golden Amazon, whose upraised arm and steady eyeschecked even Horab in his advance. 

She spoke to the savage in sharp, staccato phrases, but Garry got nomeaning from the words. There was a quick interchange between them;vehement protest and shaking of his poised spear on the part ofHorab. Luhra added a word or two, and she lowered her weapon as Horabdid the same. 

Her head was bowed as she reached to touch Garry's forehead. He senseda hopeless sorrow that was so plainly hers, but with it he felt amingling of another emotion that stirred him to the depths of hisbeing. The slim, white figure straightened, and the dark eyes squarelyupon his when she spoke. 

"Listen carefully, " she said; "it is the last time--"

 * * * * *

Garry found himself trembling; he was suddenly breathless withemotion. The racking pain in his head had settled to a dull ache, buthis brain was clear, and through it were flashing strange thoughts. 

The threat, the wild adventure itself!--they were nothing before thetruth that was so plain to him now. He loved this girl! he lovedher!--and his whole self responded with an inflow of fresh energy atthe thought. A stranger from a strange, lost world!--but what ofit?--he loved her!. .. The message from the lips and fingers of thegirl broke in upon the thoughts that were crying for expression. 

"You think of me. " She smiled with her lips and eyes. "I am glad thatyou do, my dear one, but it is hopeless. 

"Listen: I have promised; Luhra has spoken: I will go with Horab to doas he wills. I will go freely, and he will leave you here unharmed. Hepromises me this. 

"I will go with Horab far across the blue water that surrounds ushere. It is an island, as you know, for have you not come here fromafar?" Garry broke in with a startled exclamation. An island! Water!He closed his lips upon the denial of her words. 

"And you, " Luhra continued unheeding, "when we have gone, will returnto your own land. 

"But, oh, my dear one, remember always I love you. I have read yourthoughts, oh bravest and tenderest of men; I loved you from themoment when my eyes opened and found you waiting there. I am tellingyou now, for I will never see you again. " She broke in upon the wildurge of protest that filled his mind. 

With an imperious gesture she motioned Horab to discard his spear, andshe placed hers beside it on the rocky floor. But she flinched andretreated from the outstretched arms and grasping hands, while GarryConnell struggled in insane frenzy at the cords that bound his wrists. 

He felt the lean hands of Horab upon him, and the long arms held himin a crushing grip. And he saw the black face laugh evilly at thewatching girl as Horab kicked the spears over beside the casket whereshe had been. 

Garry felt himself raised in air, and he was as helpless as a child inthat grasp. An instant later he was thrown heavily, to lie bruised andbreathless in the metal box where first he had seen Luhra's face inwide-eyed awakening. 

 * * * * *

The rasping voice of Horab rose high and shrill. He was shoutingtriumphantly at the girl, while his hands worked to bind Garry's feet. Luhra's head and shoulders showed above the casket edge as she circledswiftly to approach from the opposite side and reach a trembling handthat would make the contact necessary for thought transference. Hercool touch was upon him; Garry ceased his futile struggle while herwords came, brokenly to his mind. 

"Horab has tricked us, " she cried; "he is leaving you here. He willparalyze you with the devil song of the bell, but not to sleep as Idid: it will stop on another note. He says you will be always awake, but helpless--thinking--thinking--always!"

She buried her face in her hands to hide from his gaze the horror thatwas in her eyes. Garry Connell's straining hands went limp. The terrorin the girl's voice struck through his own wild medley of thoughts tomake him shudder with realization of the truth. 

The threat was real! If Horab left the cave and took Luhra with him, the two would die in the desert. The black savage would never dare toface the strange, new world. And he, Garry, would be here in thiscave, in this very coffin, held in a waking death. No one knew he washere; only by chance would the cave be investigated. And when someonefinally came!

Garry stared in fascination at the green light. He knew with terriblecertainty that whatever help might come would come too late. To liethere hour after hour, for days and then for years--waiting!--alwayswaiting!. .. And he could never still his thoughts. .. . He had asickening realization of the thing they would find. A body!--hisbody!--and the mind within it utterly insane. .. . 

The sound of the shrieking bell was in his ears, and his nerves weretrembling in response. He saw long arms above the casket, tearing awaythe figure of a struggling girl. .. . And then he knew he was alone. .. . 

 * * * * *

The sound of the bell rose to the piercing, nerve-shredding scream he hadheard before. He must think fast--and act!--but the numbness of brain andmuscle was creeping upon him. He tried to call out, but his throat wastight, and would not respond. The echoes died into silence; thevibrations, as before, passed beyond audible range. He was sinking . .. Sinking. .. . 

Dimly he felt the casket shaking beneath him. In some distant cornerof his mind he knew that the earthquake shocks had turned. Then heheard with ear-splitting plainness the shrieking discord as the tremorshook the vibrating machine to silence. 

The room was quiet; the paralysis left him; and in the instant of hisrelease the clear brain of Garry Connell flashed from chaos to laybefore him a full-formed plan. 

"Luhra!" he called in the silent room. "Luhra!" But it seemed an agebefore he heard Horab and his captive returning from the passage. Thenthe touch of her hand gave him courage to continue. 

"Yes?" she whispered; "yes, my dear one?"

He saw the shoulders of the black as he half-raised a spearthreateningly toward the girl, then turned to adjust the whirringmachine. 

"Tell him, " shouted Garry, "--tell Horab to shut off that damnablemachine!" The shriek of it was rising again to drown his voice. "Tellhim his life depends upon it. Tell him to listen to what I say or hewill die. "

He heard the girl's voice raised in a high-pitched call, and he heardthe rasping snarl of Horab in reply. The girl repeated her cry abovethe echoing clamor of the bell--and the intolerable, rising scream, after a time, was stilled. 

Garry experienced one raging moment when he would have given his hopeof life for the ability to talk to Horab face to face and in wordsthat could penetrate the black one's brain. But he could not. He mustuse this girl as an interpreter, and he must give her words to saythat would make this ugly beast pause. He must speak as she wouldspeak; put words and sentences into her mouth that would reach thesavage superstitions of the other. 

He spoke slowly, and stared impressively into the dark, fear-filledeyes in the white face that bent above him. He must make the girlbelieve. 

"Horab works magic, " he told her. "Tell Horab that I, too, am amagician--a great magician--a greater one than Horab. "

 * * * * *

He waited an instant to hear the girl's words and the disdainfullaughter from lips in a savage face thrust close to where he lay. 

"Horab is truly a magician, " said Luhra doubtfully; "he laughs at yourmagic. Horab's _Tao_ is a strong _Tao_, wicked and powerful. "

"His _Tao_?" said Garry, and looked at the girl questioningly. He gotthe thought in her mind. "Oh, yes--his god, or devil. "

He turned his head to sure straight into the grinning face whose wide, thin lips were twisted into a leering snarl. Garry had to summon allhis power of will to hold the look that he gave his enemy and tolaugh, in his turn, long and contemptuously. Another tremor shook thecasket where he lay. 

"Tell Horab, " he ordered, while his eyes stared steadily into those ofthe savage king, "--tell Horab my _Tao_ is stronger than his. My _Tao_is angry because I have been harmed; he is shaking the mountain. Hewill shake it down on Horab and crush out his life. "

He continued to stare while he heard Luhra's voice, high with hope, and he saw a change of expression flicker across the black face, though Horab shouted a vehement reply. 

Luhra was speaking to him. "Horab says the earth has shaken before;that it is not your _Tao_ who shakes it. He asks for another sign. "

Garry was not surprised. He had fired this shot at random; the tremoritself had suggested it. And now--

"Another sign!" Garry had to fight hard for self-control to keep fromshouting the truth to this evil thing--to keep from telling him of thetime that had passed, and of the world that was waiting for him. Butthat would never do: he must play upon this black one's superstitions. Let Horab once leave this cave with that devilish, soundless screamringing in his ears and he, Garry Connell, was lost. And Luhra!--whathope for her out there?. .. The black hands were moving impatientlytoward the machine. .. . 

Garry found himself speaking slowly--short sentences that Luhraquickly repeated. And something within him rose to frame words such asGarry Connell, man of the desert, would never have thought tospeak--phrases that best might reach a savage, vicious mind. 

 * * * * *

He glanced once at the watch on his wrist. He did not feel the tortureof the tight gold cord. He was thinking in terms of daylight, and ofhow much time had passed since he had seen the sun. .. . 

"Horab shall have a sign--a terrible sign, " he said. "Death waits forHorab in the world outside, my _Tao_ tells me. Horab shall diehorribly. I see him choking in the hot sand. His tongue fills hismouth. The hot sun burns, and he is filled with fire. He tries toscream--to call upon his _Tao_--but he makes no sound. .. . And so shallHorab die. "

The girl translated swiftly; the answer was a wild cry of rage fromthe black. He sprang beside the helpless man and his spear was raisedhigh. 

Garry felt the weight of Luhra's body thrown protectingly across him, and looked up to see murder in the savage, slitted eyes. "Tell Horab, "he directed sharply, "that if be harms you or me the burning death ishis! But--" He waited deliberately after Luhra had spoken, and he sawplainly the flicker of fear in the ugly face. Now was the time. 

"Unbind my feet!" he ordered, and he put into his voice all the forceand menace he could muster. "Take me to the outer world. Take yourspear. If I do not speak truth, kill me there. My _Tao_ will show youa sign; he will fill your heart with fear as it now is filled withevil. But, it may be I can save you. Unbind my feet! Be quick!"

Again he waited while Luhra spoke, and he cursed silently with theagony of waiting. To be playing a part, speaking these absurdlychildish things, when what he wanted was his hand upon a gun or in agrip of death about that black throat! Yet he lay as still as if thevibrations of the bell were upon him, and his eyes held unwaveringlyupon the savage face, until he felt the fumbling of hands about hisfeet. .. . 

 * * * * *

A square-cut portal!--and beyond it a golden sun that shone throughmists of purple and rose! Was he too late? Garry pressed forward inwhat would have been a clumsy run, but for the spear that had proddedhim through all the long passage, and that warned now againstattempted escape. 

The brilliance and heat that struck him when he stepped, out into theopen brought Garry in a flash from the world of horror andmake-believe into the world he knew. He wanted to shout for sheer joy;but more than all else he wanted to leap at the ugly thing who stoodblinking his eyes in the mouth of the cave. 

The thought of escape was strong upon him, but the touch of a timidhand showed the folly of that. Luhra was beside him, her filmylacework shining softly in the sun, to make more lovely the delicateflush beneath. Her eyes, shielded from the sun, were upon him with alook half hopeful, half despairing. No, he must see it through--go onwith his play-acting--meet magic with magic. Horab had come out fromthe cave, and spear in hand he stood commandingly above them on a hugeboulder. Yes, the magic must go on. 

The harsh voice of the savage ripped out unintelligible words. Luhratranslated. "It is changed, " she said, "and Horab fears. But the wateris there, and there is no burning death. .. . He says your _Tao_ isweak. "

Garry stared with thankful eyes across the blue expanse where a lineof white marked ghostly breakers on a distant shore; where hills werereflected in the shimmering blue. But the sun was still above theirtops, so he must spar for time--

"My _Tao_ is strong, " he said, and went on with whatever fantasticthoughts came into his mind. He was talking against time. He told ofthe new world his _Tao_ had built, of men harnessing the lightning andflying through the air; of cannon that roared like the thunder andthrew death and destruction upon those that the _Tao_ woulddestroy. .. . And his eyes watched the slow descent of the dropping sun, while the figure above stirred impatiently and raised his spear. 

"A sign!" Luhra was imploring. "He does not believe!"

The golden ball was touching now on a distant, purple peak. Theamazing magic of the desert!--its moment had come! Garry indicated asbest he could the phantom sea, so real, below. 

"My _Tao_ has spoken, " he shouted: "watch! The waters shall be driedup; the seas shall become a desert of hot sand; the lands and watersthat Horab knows shall be no more! There shall be no food for hisstomach nor water for his lips where Horab wanders in torment. .. . Unless I save him. "

 * * * * *

He turned to stare at the vast mirage. He knew that the eyes of theothers had followed his, and he knew that they saw the first changethat crept over the land. 

The blue that was so unmistakably a sea was dissolving; it seemedsucked into the sand. And, while yet the hot rays cast their lingeringgold over mountain and plain, the seas faded and were gone . .. Andwhere they had been in unquestioned reality was only yellow sand thatwhirled hotly and drifted in the first breath of the coming night. .. . 

The towering figure above them stood rigid. Garry had found a sharpedge of rock, and sawed frantically upon it to cut the soft gold ofthe cords at his wrists. The one above them paid no heed; his eyeswere held in horror of this silent death that swept across the world. 

The hand that Garry extended was steady and cautious; his arm creptabout the body of white and gold to draw the amazed and wondering girlsilently into the open cave. 

"Follow!" he ordered, and dashed headlong down the darkened way wherean automatic was waiting for his eager fingers. 

The pack was there, and he tore at it with frenzied hands to grip atthe pistol within. And there was also an open chest whose contentsglittered in the green light, and whose weight was not too great forhim to carry. .. . 

He had both chest and gun when he returned. The stumbling falls in hismad rush had not served to allay the hurts of his tortured body, norstill his raging fury. He called to Luhra as he ran--and realized thatLuhra was gone. The chest fell forgotten at his feet as he rushed out;he shouted her name and cursed himself for leaving her. 

 * * * * *

Had the fascination of the outer world drawn her back? Had she trustedtoo greatly in the power of his Tao to shield her from harm? Connellcould not know. He knew only that he saw her struggling in the grip ofthe long arms where the black one held her on an outthrust rock. 

They were a hundred feet away, yet the black face beneath its pointedskull showed plainly its bestial fury as Garry sprang forward. Withone motion the tall figure dashed the girl to the stone at his feetand raised his spear. He paused to laugh harshly at the man who rushedtoward him--who could never reach him to stop the fatal thrust. 

A threat, it might have been, to hold the attacker off, or a murderousintent to end now and forever this one captive's life: Garry did notwait to learn. And the hundred-foot distance that meant a hundred feetof safety to the savage was spanned by a stream of lead from a gunwhose stabbing flashes cracked sharply upon the still air. The ringingclatter of a spear that fell among granite stones came thinly to Garryas he saw the black form of Horab, king of another day, spin dizzilyfrom the rock on which he stood. 

He had hit him--wounded him at least--and the firing of that wildfusillade might have emptied the magazine! Gary waited for nothingmore, but gathered the limp body of the girl within his outstretchedarms and carried her stumblingly across the welter of rocks on theboulder-strewn slope. Nor did he stop until he had gained the safetyof open ground beyond the marks of the great slide. 

 * * * * *

The earth was shivering and weaving as he laid her down; a rockcrashed sharply in the distance. Garry turned to retrace his steps andleap wildly from rock to rock toward the mouth of the cave in agranite cliff. And the metal chest was in his arms when he returnedwhere Luhra waited. 

The ground was alive with sickening motion, he was nauseated withearthquake sickness, but he gave thought only to his gun and the onecartridge that he found in the chamber. He steadied his arm upon arock to take aim at a figure on a distant slope. 

Horab had climbed back upon the rock. A lean figure and black, he wassharply outlined in the last rays of the setting sun; the target wasclear beyond the pistol's sights. But the fingers of the grim-facedman refused to tighten upon the trigger. 

Savage and cruel--a relic of a bygone age! He stood there, ludicrousand unreal in his stark black nakedness, his frayed robes of crimsonwhipping to tatters in the breeze. Yet he had forgotten hiswounds--Horab was standing upright--and Garry's hand that held thepistol fell loosely at his side. The hate melted from his heart as hewatched where Horab drew himself painfully erect. 

A barbarous figure was Horab, and evil beyond redemption, yet therewere not lacking the attributes of a king in the grotesque form whosehead was still held high. The sun made flashing brilliance of thejewels on that distorted head, while he stared with hopeless, savageeyes across the changed world where he could have no part. His _Tao_had failed him; his enemy had struck him down; and now--

The rock that bad been a rest for Garry's arm was swaying, and to hisears came a rumble and groan. Sentinel Mountain, that had watched theages pass, that had seen the oceans truly change to sand, protestedagain at this disturbance of its own long sleep. 

Garry heard the coming of the masses from above; the crashing din wasdeadening to his ears. They were safe--and his eyes were upon a savagefigure, black and tall, that stared and stared, silently, across a seaof yellow sand. He watched it, clear-cut, motionless--until itvanished beneath the roaring flood of rocks. 

 * * * * *

And close in his arms there pressed the soft body of a trembling girlwho touched his face and whispered: "Your _Tao_, my brave one, isstrong. Hold me closely that he may count me as your friend. "

His own whispered words, though differing somewhat, were a ferventecho of hers. He saw the rocky masses piled high where the mouth of acave had been; and "Thank God!" Garry Connell said, "we got out ofthere in time!"

The casket of jewels lay neglected among the rocks: to-morrow would betime enough to salvage the wealth for which he had risked his life. Heswept the girl into his arms, and the sun's last rays made goldensplendor of his burden as he carried her across the broken stones. 

His ranch showed far below him when he stopped, but the green of datepalms had vanished under the last great sweep of rocks. Some few thatremained made dark splotches among the shadows that were engulfing theworld. 

What did it matter? Miramar--"Beautiful Sea!" He laughed grimly atthought of how that sea had served him, but his eyes were tender inhis tanned and blood-stained face. 

Miramar could be restored. And it would be less lonely now. .. . 

ROBOT CHEMIST

A robot chemist with an electric eye, radio brain and magnet handsfunctioned without human supervision in an improvised laboratoryrecently before members of the New York Electrical Society. 

The automatic chemist performed several experiments. Its work wasexplained by William C. MacTavish, professor of chemistry at New YorkUniversity, and was part of a program in which cold light wasreproduced, a sample weighing a millionth of a gram analyzed, aphoto-electric cell used to control analysis and new scientificapparatus demonstrated. 

In his talk on "The Magic of Modern Chemistry, " Professor MacTavishdemonstrated the separation of para-hydrogen and ortho-hydrogen. Inthe micro-analysis of a millionth of a gram, Professor MacTavishexhibited in the micro-projector a ball of gold weighing onethousandth of a milligram (one twenty-eight millionth of an ounce), having a value of less than one ten-thousandth of a cent. 

The robot chemist was the joint creation of Dr. H. M. Partridge andProfessor Ralph H. Muller of the department of chemistry at New YorkUniversity. In explaining what the automatic chemist can do, ProfessorMacTavish said:

"The ability of the automatic chemist to control chemical operationsis due to its sensitivity to slight variations in color and lightintensity. Its working parts are very simple. They consist of astandard light source, in this case an electric light, aphoto-electric cell which detects differences in the amount of lightimpinging on it, a radio tube which amplifies the signal received fromthe photo-electric cell and which operates the relays controlling theautomatic valves. 

"Between the electric light and the photo-electric cell is placed aglass vessel holding an alkali that is to be neutralized. Above is atube from which an acid passes, drop by drop, through an automaticvalve, into the alkali. A small amount of chemical indicator added tothe alkali maintains a red color in it until it is neutralized. When asufficient amount of the acid has dropped into the alkali, the redcolor disappears, indicating complete neutralization. 

"When the solution is colored red, an insufficient amount of lightsgets through to the photo-electric cell. As the red color graduallydiminishes, the amount of light passing through increases, and whenthe solution is entirely clear the light reaches a critical valuewhich causes the photo-electric cell to pass a signal to the radiotube. This tube operates the relay which closes a valve and shuts offthe supply of acid. 

"Using a device of this sort to perform such operations around alaboratory will save a great deal of a chemist's time. Its electriceye is about 165 times as sensitive to differences in color as anyhuman eye. "

Beyond the Vanishing Point

A COMPLETE NOVELETTE

_By Ray Cummings_

CHAPTER I

_The Fragment of Quartz_

[Sidenote: The tale of a golden atom--an astounding adventure insize. ]

[Illustration: The fly landed with a thud on the center table. ]

It was shortly after noon of December 31, 1960, when the series ofweird and startling events began which took me into the tiny world ofan atom of gold, beyond the vanishing point, beyond the range of eventhe highest-powered electric-microscope. My name is George Randolph. Iwas, that momentous afternoon, assistant chemist for the AjaxInternational Dye Company, with main offices in New York City. 

It was twelve-twenty when the local exchange call-sorter announcedAlan's connection from Quebec. 

"You, George? Look here, we've got to have you up here at once. Chateau Frontenac, Quebec. Will you come?"

I could see his face imaged in the little mirror on my desk; theanxiety, tenseness in his voice, was duplicated in his expression. 

"Well--" I began. 

"You must, George. Babs and I need you. See here--"

He tried at first to make it sound like an invitation for a New Year'sEve holiday. But I knew it was not that. Alan and Barbara Kent were mybest friends. They were twins, eighteen years old. I felt that Alanwould always be my best friend; but for Babs my hopes, longings, wentfar deeper, though as yet I had never brought myself to the point oftelling her so. 

"I'd like to come, Alan. But--"

"You must! George, I can't tell you over the public air. It's--I'veseen _him_! He's diabolical! I know it now!"

_Him!_ It could only mean, of all the world, one person!

"He's here!" he went on. "Near here. We've seen him to-day! I didn'twant to tell you, but that's why we came. It seemed a long chance, butit's he, I'm positive!"

I was staring at the image of Alan's eyes; it seemed that there washorror in them. And in his voice. "God, George, it's weird! Weird, Itell you. His looks--he--oh I can't tell you now! Only, come!"

 * * * * *

I was busy at the office in spite of the holiday season, but I droppedeverything and went. By one o'clock that afternoon I was wheeling mylittle sport midge from its cage on the roof of the Metropolebuilding, and went into the air. 

It was a cold gray afternoon with the feel of coming snow. I made agood two hundred and fifty miles at first, taking the northboundthrough-traffic lane which to-day the meteorological conditions hadplaced at 6, 200 feet altitude. 

Flying is largely automatic. There was not enough traffic to botherme. The details of leaving the office so hastily had been tooengrossing for thought of Alan and Babs. But now, in my little pit atthe controls, my mind flung ahead. They had located him. That meantFranz Polter, for whom we had been searching nearly four years. And mymemory went back into the past with vivid vision. .. . 

The Kents, four years ago, were living on Long Island. Alan and Babswere fourteen years old, and I was seventeen. Even then Babsrepresented to me all that was desirable in girlhood. I lived in aneighboring house that summer and saw them every day. 

To my adolescent mind a thrilling mystery hung upon the Kent family. The mother was dead. Dr. Kent, father of Alan and Babs, maintained aluxurious home, with only a housekeeper and and no other servant. Dr. Kent was a retired chemist. He had, in his home, a chemical laboratoryin which he was working upon some mysterious problem. His children didnot know what it was, nor, of course, did I. And none of us had everbeen in the laboratory, except that when occasion offered we stolesurreptitious peeps. 

I recall Dr. Kent as a kindly, iron-gray haired gentleman. He wasstern with the discipline of his children; but he loved them, and wasindulgent in a thousand ways. They loved him; and I, an orphan, beganlooking upon him almost as a father. I was interested in chemistry. Heknew it, and did his best to help and encourage me in my studies. 

 * * * * *

There came an afternoon in the summer of 1956, when arriving at theKent house, I ran upon a startling scene. The only other member of thehousehold was a young fellow of twenty-five, named Franz Polter. Hewas a foreigner, born, I understood, in one of the BalkanProtectorates; and he was here, employed by Dr. Kent as laboratoryassistant. He had been with the Kents, at this time, two years. Alanand Babs did not like him, nor did I. He must have been a clever, skilful chemist. No doubt he was. But in aspect he was, to us, repulsive. A hunchback, with a short thick body; dangling arms thatsuggested a gorilla; barrel chest; a lump set askew on his leftshoulder, and his massive head planted down with almost no neck. Hisface was rugged in feature; a wide mouth, a high-bridged heavy nose;and above the face a great shock of wavy black hair. It was anintelligent face; in itself, not repulsive. 

But I think we all three feared Franz Polter. There was alwayssomething sinister about him, quite apart from his deformity. 

I came, that afternoon, upon Babs and Polter under a tree on the Kentlawn. Babs, at fourteen with her long black braids down her back, bare-legged and short-skirted in a summer sport costume, was standingagainst the tree with Polter facing her. They were about of a height. To my youthful imaginative mind rose the fleeting picture of a younggirl in a forest menaced by a gorilla. 

I came upon them suddenly. I heard Polter say:

"But I lof you, And you are almos' a woman. Some day you lof me. "

He put out his thick hand and gripped her shoulder. She tried to twistaway. She was frightened, but she laughed. 

"You--you're crazy!"

He was suddenly holding her in his arms, and she was fighting him. Idashed forward. Babs was always a spunky sort of girl. In spite of herfear now, she kept on laughing, and she shouted:

"You--let me go, you--hunchback!"

He did let her go; but in a frenzy of rage he hauled back his hand andstruck her in the face. I was upon him the next second. I had him downon the lawn, punching him; but though at seventeen I was a reasonablyhusky lad, the hunchback with his thick, hairy gorilla arms provedmuch stronger. He heaved me off. And then the commotion brought Alan. Without waiting to find out what the trouble was, he jumped on Polter. Between us, I think we would have beaten him pretty badly. But thehousekeeper summoned Dr. Kent and the fight was over. 

 * * * * *

Polter left for good within an hour. He did not speak to any of us. But I saw him as he put his luggage into the taxi which Dr. Kent hadsummoned. I was standing silently nearby with Babs and Alan. The lookhe flung us as he drove away carried an unmistakable menace--thepromise of vengeance. And I think now that in his warped and twistedmind he was telling himself that he would some day make Babs regretthat she had laughed at his love. 

What happened that night none of us ever knew. Dr. Kent worked late inhis laboratory; he was there when Alan and Babs and the housekeeperwent to bed. He had written a note to Alan; it was found on his deskin a corner of the laboratory next morning, addressed in care of thefamily lawyer to be given Alan in the event his father died. It saidvery little. Described a tiny fragment of gold quartz rock the sizeof a walnut which would be found under the giant microscope in thelaboratory; and told Alan to give it to the American ScientificSociety to be guarded and watched very carefully. 

This note was found, but Dr. Kent had vanished! There had been amidnight marauder. The laboratory was on the lower floor of the house. Through one of its open windows, so the police said, an intruder hadentered. There was evidence of a struggle, but it must have beenshort, and neither Babs, Alan, the housekeeper nor any of theneighbors heard anything amiss. And the fragment of golden quartz wasgone!

The police investigation came to nothing. Polter was found in NewYork. He withstood the police questions. There was nothing exceptsuspicion upon which he could be held, and he was finally released. Immediately, he disappeared. 

Neither Alan, Babs nor I saw Polter again. Dr. Kent had never beenheard from to this day, four years later when I flew to join the twinsin Quebec. And now Alan had told me that Polter was up there! We hadnever ceased to believe that Dr. Kent was alive, and that Polter wasthe midnight marauder. And as we grew older, we began to search forPolter. It seemed to us that now we were older, if we could once getour hands on him, we could drag from him the truth in which the policehad failed. 

 * * * * *

The call of a traffic director in mid-Vermont brought me back fromthese vivid thoughts. My buzzer was clanging; a peremptoryhalting-signal day-beam came darting up at me from below. It caught meand clung: I shouted down at it. 

"What's the matter?" I gave my name and number and all the details ina breath. Above everything I had no wish to be halted now. "What's thematter? I haven't done anything wrong. "

"The hell you haven't, " the director roared. "Come down to threethousand. That lane's barred. "

I dove obediently and his beam followed me. "Once more like that, young fellow--" But he went busy with somebody else and I didn't hearthe end of his threat. 

I crossed into Maine in mid-afternoon. Twilight was upon me. The skywas solid lead. The landscape all up through here was gray-white withsnow in the gathering darkness. I passed the city of Jackman, crossingfull over it to take no chances of annoying the border officials; anda few miles further, I dropped to the glaring lights of theInternational Inspection Field. The formalities were soon finished. Iwas ready to take-away when Alan rushed at me. 

"George! I thought I could connect here. " He gripped me. He waswild-eyed, incoherent. He waved his taxiplane away. "I'm going backwith my friend. George. I can't--I don't know what's happened to her. _She's_ gone, now!"

"Who's gone? Babs?"

"Yes. " He pushed me into my plane and climbed in after me. "Don'ttalk. Get us up! I'll tell you then. I shouldn't have left. "

When we were up in the air, I swung on him. "What are you talkingabout? Babs gone?"

I could feel myself shuddering with a nameless horror. 

"I don't know what I'm talking about, George. I'm about crazy. TheQuebec police think I am, anyway. I been raising hell with them for anhour. Babs is gone. I can't find her. I don't know where she is. "

 * * * * *

He finally calmed down enough to tell me. Shortly after his radiophoneto me in New York, he had missed Babs. They had had lunch in the hugehotel and then walked on the Dufferin Terrace--the famous promenadeoutside looking down over the lower city, the great sweep of the St. Lawrence River and the gray-white distant Laurentian mountains. 

"I was to meet her inside. I went in ahead of her. But she didn'tcome. I went back to the terrace and she was gone. Wasn't in ourrooms. Nor the lobby--nor anywhere. "

But it was early afternoon, in the public place of a civilized city. In the daylight of the Dufferin Terrace, beside the long ice tobogganslide, under the gaze of skaters on the ice-rink and several hundredholiday merrymakers, a young girl could hardly be murdered, orforcibly abducted, without attracting some attention! The Quebecpolice thought the young American unduly excited over his sister, whowas missing only an hour. They would do what they could, if by darkshe had not rejoined him. They suggested that doubtless the young ladyhad gone shopping. 

"Maybe she did, " I agreed. But in my heart, I felt differently. "She'll be waiting for us in the hotel when we get there, Alan. "

"But I'm telling you we saw Polter this morning. He lives here--notthirty miles from Quebec. We saw him on the terrace after breakfast. Recognized him at once. "

"Did he see you?"

"I don't know. He was lost in the crowd in a minute. But I asked ayoung French fellow who it was. He knew him. Told me, Frank Raskor. That's the name he wears now. He's a famous man up here--well known, immensely rich. I don't know if he saw us or not. What a fool I was toleave Babs alone, even for a minute!"

We were speeding over a white-clad valley with a little frozen riverwinding down its middle. Almost full night had come. The leaden skywas low above us. It began snowing. The lights of the small villagesalong the river were barely visible. 

"Can you land us, Alan?"

"Yes, surely. Municipal field just beyond the Citadel. We can get tothe hotel in five minutes. Good landing lights. "

 * * * * *

It was a flight of only half an hour. During it, Alan told me aboutPolter. The hunchback, known now as Frank Rascor, owned a mine in theLaurentides, some thirty miles from Quebec City--a fabulouslyproductive mine of gold. It was an anomaly that gold should beproduced in this region. No vein o£ gold-bearing rock had been found, except the one on Polter's property. Alan had seen a newspaper accountof the strangeness of it; and just upon the chance had come to Quebec, seen Frank Rascor on the Dufferin Terrace, and recognized him asPolter. 

Again my thoughts went back into the past. Had Polter stolen thatmissing fragment of golden quartz the size of a walnut which had beenbeneath Dr. Kent's microscope? We always thought so. Dr. Kent had somesecret, some great problem upon which he was working. Polter, hisassistant, had evidently known, or partially known, its details. Andnow, four years later, Polter was immensely rich, with a "gold mine"in mountains where there was no other such evidence of gold!

I seemed to see some connection. Alan, I knew, was groping with a dimidea, so strange he hardly dared voice it. 

"I tell you, it's weird, George. The sight of him. Polter--heavens, one couldn't mistake that hunchback--and his face, his features, justthe same as when we knew him. "

"Then what's weird?? I demanded. 

"His age. " There was a queer solemn hush in Alan's voice. "George, when we knew Polter, he was about twenty-five, wasn't he? Well, thatwas four years ago. But he isn't twenty-nine now! I swear it's thesame man--but he isn't around thirty. Don't ask me what I'm talkingabout. I don't know. But he isn't thirty. He's nearer fifty!Unnatural! Weird! I felt it, and so did Babs, just that brief look wehad at him. "

I did not answer. My attention was on managing the plane. The lightsof Sevis were under us. Beyond the city cliffs the St. Lawrence layin its deep valley; and the Quebec lights, the light-dotted rampartswith the terrace and the great fortress-like hotel showed across theriver. 

"Better take the stick, Alan. I don't know where the field is. Anddon't you worry about Babs. She'll be back by now. "

 * * * * *

But she was not. We went to the two connecting rooms in the tower ofthe hotel which Alan and Babs had engaged. We inquired with half adozen phone-calls. No one had seen or heard from her. The Quebecpolice were sending a man up to talk to Alan. 

"Well, we won't be here, " Alan called to me. He was standing by thewindow in Bab's room; he was trembling too much to use the phone. Ihung up the receiver and went through the connecting door to join him. 

Bab's room! It sent a pang through me. A few of her garments werelying around. A negligee was laid out on the dainty little bed. Avelvet boudoir doll--she had always loved them--stood on the dresser. Upon this hotel room, in a day, she had impressed her personality. Herperfume was in the air. And now she was gone. 

"We won't be here, " Alan was repeating. He gripped me at the window. "Look!" In his hand was an ugly-looking, smokeless, soundlessautomatic of the Essen type. "And I've got another, for you. Broughtthem up with me. "

His face was white and drawn, but his hands abruptly were steady. Thetremble was gone out of his voice. 

"I'm going after him. George! Now! Understand that? Now! His place isonly thirty miles from here, out there in the mountains. You can seeit in the daylight--a wall around his property and a stone castlewhich he built in the middle of it. A gold mine? Hell!"

There was nothing to be seen now out of the window but thesnow-filled darkness, the blurred lights of lower Quebec and the lineof dock-lights five hundred feet under us. 

"Will you fly me, George?"

"Of course. "

I was the one trembling now; the cool feel of the automatic which Alanthrust into my hand seemed suddenly to crystallize Bab's danger. I washere in her room, with the scent of her perfume around it, and thisdeadly weapon was needed! But the trembling was gone in a moment. 

"Yes. Of course, Alan. No use talking to the police. You can't get asearch warrant to ransack the castle of a rich man just because youcan't find your sister. Come on. You can tell me what his place islike as we go. "

 * * * * *

Bundled in our flying suits we hurried from the hotel, climbed theCitadel slope of the landing field, and in ten minutes were again inthe air. The wind sucked at us. The snow now was falling with thickhuge flakes. Directed by Alan, I headed out over the ice-filled St. Lawrence, past the frozen Isle d'Orleans, toward Polter's mysteriousmountain castle. 

Suddenly Alan burst out, "I know what father's secret was, George! Ican piece it together now, from little things that were meaninglesswhen I was a kid. He invented the electro-microscope. You know that. The infinitely small fascinated him. I remember he once said that ifwe could see far enough down into smallness, we would come upon humanlife!"

Alan's low tense voice was more vehement than I had ever heard itbefore. "It's clear to me now, George. That little fragment of goldenquartz which he wanted me to be so careful of contained a world withhuman inhabitants! Father knew it, or suspected it. And I think thechemical problem on which he was working aimed for some drug. I knowit was a drug they were compounding. Polter said so once, aradio-active drug; I remember listening at the door. A drug, George, capable of making a human being infinitely small!"

I did not answer when momentarily Alan paused. So strange a thing! Mymind whirled with it; struggled to encompass it. And like themeaningless pieces of a puzzle, dropping so easily into place when thekey-piece is fitted. I saw Polter stealing that fragment of gold;abducting Dr. Kent--perhaps because Polter himself was not fullyacquainted with the secret. And now, Polter, up here with a fabulouslyrich "gold mine. " And Babs, abducted by him, to be taken--where?

It set me shuddering. 

"Alan!"

"That's what it was!" Alan reiterated. "And Polter, here now with whathe calls a 'mine. ' It isn't a mine, it's a laboratory! He's gotfather, too, hidden God knows where! And now Babs. We've got to getthem. George! The police can't help us! It's just you and me, to fightthis thing. And it's diabolical!"

CHAPTER II

_The Girl an Inch Tall_

We soared over the divided channel of the St. Lawrence, betweenOrleans and the mainland. Montmorency Falls in a moment showed dimlywhite through the murk to our left, a great hanging veil of ice higherthan Niagara. Further ahead, the lights of the little village of St. Anne de Beaupré were visible with the gray-black, towering hillsbehind them. Historic region! But Alan and I had no thoughts for it. 

"Swing left, George. Over the mainland. That's St. Anne; we pass thisside of it. Put the mufflers on. This damn thing roars like a towersiren. "

I cut in the mufflers, and switched off our wing-lights. It wasillegal, but we were past all thought of that. We were both desperate;the slow prudent process of acting within the law had nothing to dowith this affair. We both knew it. 

Our little plane was dark, and amid the sounds of this night blizzardour muffled engine could not be heard. 

Alan touched me. "There are his lights; see them?"

We had passed St. Anne. The hills lay ahead--wild mountainous countrystretching northward to the foot of Hudson Bay. The blizzard wasroaring out of the north and we were heading into it. I saw, on whatseemed a dome-like hill perhaps a thousand feet above the river level, a small cluster of lights which marked Polter's property. 

"Fly over it once, George. Low--we can chance it. And find a place toland outside the walls. "

We presently had it under us. I held us at five hundred feet, and cutour speed to the minimum of twenty miles an hour facing the gale, though it was sixty or seventy when we turned. There were a score ortwo of hooded ground lights. But there was little reflection aloft, and in the murk of the snowfall I felt we would escape notice. 

We crossed, turned and went back in an arc following Polter's outercurved wall. We had a good view of it. A weird enough looking place, here on its lonely hilltop. No wonder the wealthy "Frank Rascor" hadattained local prominence!

 * * * * *

The whole property was irregularly circular, perhaps a mile indiameter covering the almost flat dome of the hilltop. Around it, completely enclosing it, Polter had built a stone and brick wall. Aminiature wall of China! We could see that it was fully thirty feethigh with what evidently were naked high-voltage wires protecting itstop. There were half a dozen little gates, securely barred, withdoubtless a guard at each of them. 

Within the wall there were several buildings: a few small stone housessuggesting workmen's dwellings; an oblong stone structure with smokefunnels which seemed perhaps a smelter; a huge, dome-like spread oftranslucent glass over what might have been the top of a mine-shaft. It looked more like the dome of an observatory--an inverted bowl fullya hundred feet wide and equally as high, set upon the ground. What didit cover?

And, there was Polter's residence--a castle-like brick and stonebuilding with a central tower not unlike a miniature of the ChateauFrontenac. We saw a stone corridor on the ground connecting the lowerfloor of the castle with the dome, which lay about a hundred feet toone side. 

Could we chance landing inside the wall? There was a dark, levelexpanse of snow where we could have done it, but our descending planewould doubtless have been discovered. But the mile-wide inner area wasdark in many places. Spots of light were at the little wall-gates. There was a glow all along the top of the wall. Lights were inPolter's house; they slanted out in yellow shafts to the nearby whiteground. But for the rest, the whole place was dark, save a dim glowfrom under the dome. 

I shook my head at Alan's suggestion. "We couldn't land inside. " Wehad circled back and were a mile or so off toward the river. "You sawguards down there. But that low stretch outside the gate on thisside--"

A plan was coming to me. Heaven knows it was desperate enough, but wehad no alternative. We would land and accost one of the gate guards. Force our way in. Once inside the wall, on foot in the darkness ofthis blizzard, we could hide; creep up to that dome. Beyond that myimagination could not go. 

 * * * * *

We landed in the snow a quarter of a mile from one of the gates. Weleft the plane and plunged into the darkness. It was a steady upwardslope. A packed snowfield was under foot, firm enough to hold ourshoes, with a foot or so of loose soft snow on its top. The fallingflakes whirled around us. The darkness was solid, Our helmetedleather-furred flying suits were soon shapeless with a gathering whiteshroud. We carried our Essens in our gloved hands. The night was cold, around zero I imagine, though with that biting wind it felt farcolder. 

From the gloom a tiny spot of light loomed up. 

"There it is, Alan. Easy now! Let me go first. " The wind tore away mywords. We could see the narrow rectangle of bars at the gate, with aglow of light behind them. 

"Hide your gun, Alan. " I gripped him. "Hear me?"

"Yes. "

"Let me go first. I'll do the talking. When he opens the gate, let mehandle him. You--if there are two of them--you take the other. "

We emerged from the darkness, into the glow of light by the gate. Ihad the horrible feeling that a shot would greet us. A challenge came, at first in French, then in English. 

"Stop! What do you want?"

"To see Mr. Rascor. "

We were up to the bars now, shapeless hooded bundles of snow andfrost. A man stood in the doorway of a lighted little cubby behind thebars. A black muzzle in his hand was leveled at us. 

"He sees no one. Who are you?"

Alan was pressing at me from behind. I shoved back, and took a stepforward. I touched the bars. 

"My name is Fred Davis. Newspaper man from Montreal. I must see Mr. Rascor. "

"You cannot. You may send in your call. The mouthpiece is there--outthere to the left. Bare your face; he talks to no one without the faceimage. "

 * * * * *

The guard had drawn back into his cubby; there was only this extendedhand and the muzzle of his weapon left visible. 

I took a step forward. "I don't want to talk by phone. Won't you openthe gate? It's cold out here. We have important business. We'll waitwith you. "

Abruptly the gate lattice slid aside. Beyond the cubby doorway was theopen darkness within the wall. A scuffed path leading inward from thegate showed for a few feet. 

I walked over the threshold, with Alan crowding me. The Essen in mycoat pocket was leveled. But from the cubby doorway, I saw that theguard was gone! Then I saw him crouching back of a metal shield. Hisvoice rang out. 

"Stand!"

A light struck my face--a little beam from a television sender besideme. It all happened in an instant, so quickly Alan and I had barelytime to make a move. I realized my image was now doubtless beingpresented to Polter. He would recognize me!

I ducked my head, yelling: "Don't do that! You frighten me!"

It was too late! The guard had received a signal. I was aware of itsbuzz. 

From the shield a tiny jet of fluid leaped at me. It struck my hood. There was a heavy, sickening-sweet smell. It seemed like chloroform. Ifelt my senses going. The cubby room was turning dark; was roaring. 

I think I fired at the shield. And Alan leapt aside. I heard the fainthiss of his Essen. And his choked, horrified voice:

"George--come back! Run! Don't fall! Don't!"

I crumpled; slid into blackness. And it seemed, as I went down, thatAlan's inert body was falling on top of me. .. . 

 * * * * *

I recovered consciousness after a nameless interval, a phantasmagoriaof wild, drugged dreams. My senses came slowly. At first, there weredim muffled voices and the tread of footsteps. Then I knew that I waslying on the ground, and that I was indoors. It was warm. My overcoatwas off. Then I realized that I was bound and gagged. 

I opened my eyes. Alan was lying inert beside me, roped and with ablack gag around his face and in his mouth. We were in a huge dim openspace. Presently, as my vision cleared, I saw that the dome wasoverhead. This was a circular, hundred-foot-wide room. It was dimlylighted. The figures of men were moving about, their great misshapenshadows shifting with them. Twenty feet from me there was a pile ofgolden rock--chunks of gold the size of a man's fist, or his head, andlarger, heaped loosely into a mound ten feet high. 

Beyond this pile of ore, near the center of the room, twenty feetabove the concrete floor, there was a large hanging electrolier. Itcast a circular glow downward. Under it I saw a low platform raised afoot or two above the ground. A giant electro-microscope was hung withits twenty-foot cylinder above the platform. Its intensification tubeswere glowing in a dim phosphorescent row on a nearby bracket. A mansat in a chair on the platform at the microscope's eyepiece. 

I saw all this with a brief glance, then my attention went to a whitestone slab under the giant lense. It rested on the platform floor, atwo-foot-square surface of smooth white stone like marble. A littleroped railing a few inches high fenced it. And in its center lay afragment of golden quartz the size of a walnut!

There was a movement across my line of vision. Two figures advanced. Irecognized both of them. And I strained at my bonds; mouthed the gagwith futile, horrified effort. I could no more than writhe; and Icould not make a sound. I lay, after a moment exhausted, and staredwith horror. 

The familiar hunched figure of Polter advanced toward the microscope. And with him, his huge hand holding her wrists, was Babs. They werenearly fifty feet from me, but with the light over them I could seethem clearly. Bab's slim figure was clad in a long skirted dress--paleblue, now, with the light on it. Her long black hair had fallendisheveled to her shoulders. I could not see her face. She did not cryout. Polter was half dragging her as she resisted him; and thenabruptly she ceased struggling. 

I heard his gutteral voice. "That iss better. "

 * * * * *

They mounted to the platform. It seemed to me that they must have beenfar away; they were very small. Abnormally small. I blinked. Horrorsurged over me. Their figures were dwindling as they stood there!Polter was saying something to the man at the microscope. Other menwere nearby, watching. All normal, save Polter and Babs. A momentpassed. Polter was standing by the chair in which the man at themicroscope was sitting. And Polter's head barely reached its seat!Babs was clinging to him, now. Another moment. They were both littlefigures down by the chair-leg. Then they began walking with swayingsteps toward the tiny railing of the white slab. The white reflectionfrom the slab plainly illumined then. Polter's arm was around Babs. Ihad not realized how small they were until I saw Polter lift the ropeof the four-inch little fence, and he and Babs stooped and walkedunder it. The fragment of quartz lay a foot from them in the center ofthe white surface. They walked unsteadily toward it. But soon theywere running. 

My horrified senses whirled. Then abruptly I felt something touch myface! Alan and I were lying in shadow. No one had noticed my writhingmovements, and Alan was still in drugged unconsciousness. Somethingtiny and light and soundless as a butterfly wing brushed my face! Ijerked my head aside. On the floor, within six inches of my eyes, Isaw the tiny figure of a girl an inch high! She stood, with a warninggesture to her lips--a human girl in a filmy flowing drapery. Longpale golden tresses lay on her white shoulders; her face, small as mylittle fingernail, colorful as a miniature painted upon ivory, was soclose to my eyes that I could see her expression--warning me not tomove. 

There was a faint glow of light on the floor where she stood, but in amoment she moved out of it. Then I felt her brush against the back ofmy head. My ear was near the ground. A tiny warm hand touched myear-lobe; clung to it. A tiny voice sounded in my ear. 

"Please do not move your head! You might kill me!"

There was a pause. I held myself rigid. Then the tiny voice cameagain. 

"I am Glora, a friend. I have the drug! I will help you!"

CHAPTER III

_The Fight in the Shrinking Dome Room_

It seemed that Alan was stirring. I felt the tiny hand leave my ear. Ithought that I could hear faint little footfalls as the girl scamperedaway, fearful that a sudden movement from Alan would crush her. Iturned cautiously after a moment and saw Alan's eyes upon me. He toohad seen, with a blurred returning consciousness, the dwindlingfigures of Babs and Polter. I followed his gaze. The white slab withthe golden quartz under the microscope seemed empty of human movement. The several men in this huge circular dome-room were dispersing totheir affairs: three of them sat whispering by what I now saw was apile of gold ingots stacked crosswise. But the fellow at themicroscope held his place, his eye glued to its aperture as he watchedthe vanishing figures of Polter and Babs on the rock-fragment. 

Alan seemed trying to convey something to me, He could only gaze andjerk his head. I saw behind his head the figure of the tiny girl onthe floor behind him. She wanted evidently to approach his head butdid not dare. When for an instant he was quiet, she ran forward, butat once scampered back. 

From the group by the ingots, one of the men rose and came toward us. Alan held still, watching. And the girl, Glora, seized the opportunityto come nearer. We both heard her tiny voice:

"Do not move! Close your eyes! Make him think you are stillunconscious. "

Then she was gone, like a mouse hiding in the shadows near us. 

Amazement swept Alan's face; he twisted, mouthed at his gag. But hesaw my eager nod and took his cue from me. 

 * * * * *

I closed my eyes and lay stiff, breathing slowly. Footstepsapproached. A man bent over Alan and me. 

"Are you no conscious yet?" It was the voice of a foreigner, with aqueer, indescribable intonation. A foot prodded us. "Wake up!"

Then the footsteps retreated, and when I dared to look the man wasrejoining his fellows. It was a strange-looking trio. They wereheavy-set men in leather Jackets and short, wide knee-length trousers. One wore tight, high boots, and the others a sort of white buskin, with ankle straps. All were bareheaded--round, bullet heads ofclose-dipped black hair. 

I suddenly had another startling realization. These men were not ofnormal size as I had assumed! They were eight or ten feet tall at thevery least! And they and the pile of ingots, instead of being close tome, were more distant than I had thought. 

Alan was trying to signal me. The tiny girl was again at his ear, whispering to him. And then she came to me. 

"I have a knife. See?" She backed away. I caught the pin-point gleamof what might have been a knife in her hand. "I will get a littlelarger. I am too small to cut your ropes. You lie still, even after Ihave cut them. "

I nodded. The movement frightened her so that she leaped backward; butshe came again, smiling. The three men were talking earnestly by theingots. No one else was near us. 

Glora's tiny voice was louder, so that we both could hear it at once. 

"When I free you, do not move or they may see that you are loose. Iget larger now--a little larger--and return. "

 * * * * *

She darted away and vanished. Alan and I lay listening to the voicesof the three men. Two were talking in a strange tongue. One called tothe man at the microscope, and he responded. The third man saidsuddenly:

"Say, talk English. You know damn well I can't understand that lingo. "

"We say, McGuire, the two prisoners soon wake up. "

"What we oughta do is kill 'em. Polter's a fool. "

"The doctor say, wait for him return. Not long--what you call three, four hours. "

"And have the Quebec police up here lookin' fer 'em? An' that damngirl he stole off the terrace--What did he call her, Barbara Kent?"

"These two who are drugged, their bodies can be thrown in a gully downbehind St. Anne. That what the doctor plan to do, I think. Then thepolice find them--days maybe from now--and their smashed airship withthem. "

Gruesome suggestion!

The man at the microscope called, "They are gone. Almost. I can hardlysee them more. " He left the platform and joined the others. And I sawthat he was much smaller than they--about my own size possibly. 

There seemed six men here altogether. Four now, by the ingots, and twoothers far across the room where I saw the dark entrance of thecorridor-tunnel which led to Polter's castle. 

Again I felt a warning hand touch my face, and saw the figure of Glorastanding by my head. She was larger now--about a foot tall. She movedpast my eyes; stood by my mouth; bent down over my gag. I felt thecautious side of a tiny knife-blade inserted under the fabric of thegag. She hacked, tugged at it, and in a moment ripped it through. 

She stood panting from the effort. My heart was pounding with fearthat she would be seen; but the man had turned the central light offwhen he left the microscope, and it was far darker here now thanbefore. 

 * * * * *

I moistened my dry mouth. My tongue was thick, but I could talk. 

"Thank you, Glora. "

"Quiet!"

I felt her hacking at the ropes around my wrists. And then at myankles. It took her a long time, but at last I was free! I rubbed myarms and legs; felt the returning strength in them. 

And presently Alan was free. "George, what--" he began. 

"Wait!" I whispered. "Easy! Let her tell us what to do. "

We were unarmed. Two, against these six, three of whom were giants. 

Glora whispered, "Do not move! I have the drugs. But I can no givethem to you when I am still so small. I have not enough. I willhide--there. " Her little arm gestured to where, near us, half a dozenboxes were piled. "When I am large as you, I come back. Be ready, quickly to act. I may be seen. I give you then the drug. "

"But wait, " Alan whispered. "We must know--"

"The drug to make you large. In a moment then you can fight these men. I had planned it for myself, to do that, and then I saw you heldcaptive. That girl of your world the doctor just now steal, she isfriend of yours?

"Yes! Yes, Glora. But--" A thousand questions were springing in mymind, but this was no time to ask them. I amended, "Go! Hurry! Give usthe drug when you can. "

The little figure moved away from us and disappeared. Alan and I layas we had before. But now we could whisper. We tried to anticipatewhat would happen; tried to plan, but that was futile. The thing wastoo strange, too astoundingly fantastic. 

 * * * * *

HOW long Glora was gone I do not know. I think, not over three or fourminutes. She came from her hiding place, crouching this time, andjoined us. She was, probably, of normal Earth size--a small, frail-looking girl something over five feet tall. We saw now that shewas about sixteen years old. We lay staring at her, amazed at herbeauty. Her small oval face was pale, with the flush of pink upon hercheeks--a face queerly, transcendently beautiful. It was wholly human, yet somehow unearthly, as though unmarked by even the heritage of ourEarthly strifes. 

"Now! I am ready. " She was fumbling at her robe. "I will give you eachthe same. "

Her gestures were rapid. She flung a quick glance at the distant men. Alan and I were tense. We could easily be discovered now, but we hadto chance it. We were sitting erect. He murmured:

"But what do we do? What happens? What--"

On the palm of her hand were two small pink-white pellets. "Takethese--one for each of you. Quickly!"

Involuntarily we drew back. The thing abruptly was gruesome, frightening. Horribly frightening. 

"Quickly, " she urged. "The drug is what you call highly radio-active. And volatile. Exposed to the air it is gone very soon. You are afraid?No! No, it will not harm you. "

With a muttered curse at his own reluctance, Alan seized the pellet. Istopped him. 

"Wait!"

 * * * * *

The men momentarily were engaged in a low-voiced, earnest discussion. I dared to hesitate a moment longer. 

"Glora, where will you be?"

"Here. Right here. I will hide. "

"We want to go after Mr. Polter. " I gestured. "Into that little pieceof golden rock. Is that where he went? Is that where he took the Earthgirl?"

"Yes. My world is there--within an atom there in that rock. "

"Will you take us?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Alan whispered suddenly, "Then let us go now. Get smaller, now. "

But she shook her head vehemently. "That is not possible. We would beseen as we climbed the platform and crossed the white slab. "

"No. " I protested. "Not if we get very small, hiding here first. "

She was smiling, but urgently fearful of this delay. "Should we getthat small, then it would be, from here"--she gestured toward themicroscope--"to there, a journey of very many miles. Don't youunderstand?"

This thing so strange!

Alan was plucking at me. "Ready, George?"

"Yes. "

I put the pellet on my tongue. It tasted slightly sweet, but seemedquickly melted and I swallowed it hastily. My head swam. My heart waspounding, but that was apprehension, not the drug. A thrill of heatran through my veins as though my blood were on fire. 

Alan was clinging to me as we sat together. Glora again had vanished. In the background of my whirling consciousness the sudden thoughthovered that she had tricked us; done to us something diabolical. Butthe thought was swept away in the confusion of the flood ofimpressions upon me. 

I turned dizzily. "All right, Alan?"

"Yes, I--I guess so. "

My ears were roaring, the room seemed whirling, but in a moment thatpassed. I felt a sudden, growing sense of lightness. A humming waswithin me--a soundless tingle. To every tiny microscopic cell in mybody the drug had gone. The myriad pores of my skin seemed thrillingwith activity. I know now it was the exuding volatile gas of thisdisintegrating drug. Like an aura it enveloped me, acted upon mygarments. 

 * * * * *

I learned later much of the principles of this and its companion drug. I had no thought for such things now. The huge dimly illumined roomunder the dome was swaying. Then abruptly it steadied. The strangesensations within me were lessening, or I forgot them. And I becameaware of externals. 

The room was shrinking! As I stared, not with horror now, but withamazement and a coming triumph, I saw everywhere a slow, steady, crawling movement. The whole place was dwindling. The platform, themicroscope, were nearer than before, and smaller. The pile of ingots, with the men off there, was shifting toward me. 

"George! My God--weird!"

I saw Alan's white face as I turned to him. He was growing at the samerate as myself evidently, for of all the scene he only was unchanged. 

We could feel the movement. The floor under us was shifting, crawlingslowly. From all directions it came, contracting as though it werebeing squeezed beneath us. In reality our expanding bodies werepushing outward. 

The pile of boxes which had been a few feet away, were thrustingthemselves at me I moved incautiously and knocked them over. Theyseemed small now, perhaps half their former size. Glora was standingbehind them. I was sitting and she was standing, but across thelitter, our faces were level. 

"Stand up!" she murmured. "You all right now. I hide!"

I struggled to my feet, drawing Alan up with me. Now! The time foraction was upon us! We had already been discovered. The men wereshouting, clambering to their feet. Alan and I stood swaying. Thedome-room had contracted to half its former size. Near us was a littleplatform, chair and microscope. Small figures of men were rushing atus. 

I shouted, "Alan! Watch yourself!"

 * * * * *

We were unarmed. These men might have automatics. But evidently theydid not. Knives were in their hands. The whole place was ringing withshouts. And then a shrill siren alarm from outside was clanging. 

The first of the men--a few moments before he had seemed agiant--flung himself upon me. His head was lower than my shoulders. Imet him with a blow of my fist in his face. He toppled backward; butfrom one side, another figure came at me. A knife-blade bit into theflesh of my thigh. 

The pain seemed to fire my brain. A madness descended upon me. It wasthe madness of abnormality. I saw Alan with two dwarfed figuresclinging to him. But he threw them off, and they turned and ran. 

The man at my thigh stabbed again, but I caught his wrist and, asthough he were a child, whirled him around me and flung him away. Helanded with a crash against the shrunken pile of gold nuggets and laystill. 

The place was in a turmoil. Other men were appearing from outside. Butthey stood now well away from us. Alan backed against me. His laughrang out, half hysterical with the madness upon him as it was upon me. 

"God! George, look at them! So small!"

They were now hardly the height of our knees. This was now a small, circular room, under a lowering concave dome. A shot came from thegroup of pigmy figures. I saw the small stab of flame, heard the singof the bullet. 

We rushed, with the full frenzy of madness upon us, enraged giants. What actually happened I can not recount. I recall scattering thelittle figures; seizing them; flinging them headlong. A bullet, tinynow, stung the calf of my leg. Little chairs and tables under my feetwere crashing. Alan was lunging back and forth; stamping; flinging histiny adversaries away. There were twenty or thirty of the figureshere now. Then I saw some of them escaping. 

The room was littered with wreckage. I saw that by some miracle ofchance the microscope was still standing, and I had a moment ofsanity. 

"Alan, watch out! The microscope! The platform--don't smash it! AndGlora! Look out for her!"

 * * * * *

I suddenly became aware that my head and a shoulder had struck thedome roof. Why, this was a tiny room! Alan and I found ourselvesbacked together, panting in the small confines of a circular cubbywith an arching dome close over us. At our feet the platform with themicroscope over it hardly reached our boot-tops. There was a suddensilence, broken only by our heavy breathing. The tiny forms of humansstrewn around us were all motionless. The others had fled. 

Then we heard a small voice. "Here! Take this! Quickly! You are toolarge! Quickly!"

Alan took a step. And then a sudden panic was on us both. Glora washere at our feet. We did not dare turn; hardly dared move. To stoopmight have crushed her. My leg hit the top of the microscope cylinder. It rocked but did not fall. 

Where was Glora? In the gloom we could not see her. We were in apanic. 

Alan began, "George, I say--"

The contracting inner curve of the dome bumped gently against my head. The panic of confusion which was upon us turned to fear. The room wasclosing in to crush us. 

I muttered. "Alan! I'm going out!" I braced myself and heaved againstthe side and top curve of the dome. Its metal ribs and heavytranslucent, reinforced glass plates resisted me. There was an instantwhen Alan and I were desperately frightened. We were trapped, to becrushed in here by our own horrible growth. Then the dome yieldedunder our smashing blows. The ribs bent; the plates cracked. 

We straightened, pushed upward and emerged through the broken dome, with head and shoulders towering into the outside darkness and thewind and snow of the blizzard howling around us!

CHAPTER IV

_The Journey Into Smallness_

"Glora, that--that was horrible. "

We stood, again in normal size, with the wrecked dome-laboratoryaround us. The dome had a great jagged hole halfway up one of itssides, through which the snow was falling. The broken bodies strewnaround were gruesome. 

Alan repeated, "Horrible, Glora. This drug, the power of it, isdiabolical. "

Glora had grown large after us; had given us the companion drug. Ineed not detail the strange sensations of our dwindling. We were sosoon to experience them again!

We had searched, when still large, all of Polter's grounds. Some ofhis men undoubtedly escaped, made off into the blizzard. How many, wenever knew. None of them ever made themselves known again. 

We were ready to start into the atom. The fragment of golden quartzstill lay under the microscope on the white square of stone slab. Wehad hurried with our last preparations. The room was chilling. We wereall inadequately dressed for such cold. 

I left a note scribbled on a square of paper by the microscope. Withdaylight, Polter's wrecked place would be discovered. The police wouldcome. 

"Guard this piece of golden quartz. Take it at once, very carefully, to the Royal Canadian Scientific Society. Have it watched day andnight. We will return. "

I signed it George Randolph. And as I did so, the extraordinary aspectof these events swept me anew. Here in Polter's weird place I hadseemed living in some strange fantastic realm. But this was theProvince of Quebec, in civilized Canada. These were the Quebecauthorities I was addressing. 

I flung the thoughts away. "Ready, Glora?"

"Yes. "

 * * * * *

Then doubts assailed me. None of Polter's men had gotten large tofight us. Evidently he did not trust them with the drug. We could wellbelieve that, for the thing, misused, was diabolical beyond humanconception. A single giant, a criminal, a madman, by the power ofgiant size alone, could devastate the earth! The drug, lost, orcarelessly handled, could get loose. Animals, insects, eating it, could roam the earth, gigantic monsters! Vegetation, nourished withit, might in a day overrun a great city, burying it with a junglegrowth!

How terrible a thing, if the realm of smallness were suddenly toemerge! Monsters of the sea, marine organisms, could expand until eventhe ocean was too small for them. Microbes of disease, feeding uponthis drug--

Alan was gripping me. "We're ready, George. "

"Yes. Yes, I'm ready. "

This was not largeness we were facing now, but smallness. I thought ofBabs, down there with Polter, beyond the vanishing point in the realmof the infinitely small. They had been gone an hour at least. Everymoment lost now was adding to Bab's danger. 

"Yes. I'm ready, Alan. "

Glora sat with us on the platform. Strange little creature! She waswholly calm now; methodical with her last directions. There had beenno time for her to tell us anything about herself. Alan had asked herwhy she had come here and how she had gotten the drugs. She waved himaway:

"On the journey down. Plenty of time, then. "

"How long?" Alan demanded. 

"Not too long. If we are careful with managing the trip, what youmight call ten hours. "

 * * * * *

And now as we were ready to start, she told us calmly:

"I will give you each your share of the drugs, but them you take onlyas I tell you. "

She produced from her robe several small vials a few inches long. Theywere tightly stoppered. The feel of them was cool and sleek; theyseemed of some strange, polished metal. Some of them were tinted blackwhile the others glowed opalescent. She gave each of us one vial ofeach kind. 

"The light ones are for diminishing, " she said. "We take them verycarefully, one small pellet only at first. "

Alan was opening one of his, but she checked him. 

"Wait! The drug evaporates very quickly. I have more to say, first. Wesit here together. Then you follow me to the white slab. We climb uponthe little rock. "

She laid her hands on our arms. Her blue eyes regarded us earnestly. Her manner was naive; childlike. But I could not mistake herintelligence; the force of character stamped on her face for all itsdainty, ethereal beauty. 

"Alan--" She smiled at him, and tossed back a straying lock of herhair which was annoying her. "You pay attention, Alan. You are veryyoung, reckless. You listen. We must not be separated. You understandthat, both of you? We will be always in that little piece of rock. Butthere will be miles of distance. And to be lost in size--"

Strange journey upon which now we were starting! Lost in size?

"You understand me? Lost in size. If that happens, we might never findeach other. And if we come upon the Doctor Polter and the girl heholds captive--if we can overtake them--"

"We must!" I exclaimed. "And we must start, Glora!"

"Yes. Now!"

 * * * * *

She showed us which pellet to select. They were of several sizes, Ifound. And as she afterward told us, the larger ones were not onlylarger but of an intensified strength. We took the smallest. It wasbarely a thousandth part of the strength of the largest. In unison weplaced the pellets on our tongues, and hastily swallowed. 

The first sensations were as before. And, familiar now, they caused nomore than a fleeting discomfort. But I think I could never get used tothe outward strangeness!

The room in a moment was expanding. I could feel the platform floorcrawling outward beneath me, so that I had to hitch and change myposition as it pulled. We were seated together, Alan and I on eachside of Glora. My fingers were on her arm. It did not change size, butit slowly drew away with a space opening between us. Overhead, thedome-roof, the great jagged hole there, was receding, lifting, movingupward and away. 

Glora pulled us to our feet. "We had better start now. The distance isso far, so quickly. "

We had been sitting within five feet of the stone slab with its littlefour-inch-high railing around it. A chair was by the microscopeeyepiece. As we stood swaying I saw that the chair was huge, and itsseat level with my head. The great barrel-cylinder of the microscopeslanted sixty feet upward. The dome-roof was a distant spread threehundred feet up in the dimness. This gigantic room! It was a vastarena now. 

Alan and I must have hesitated, confused by the expanding scene--aslow steady movement everywhere. Everything was drawing away from us. Even as we stood together, the creeping platform floor was separatingus. 

A moment passed. Glora was urging vehemently:

"Come! You must not stand!"

We started walking. The railing around the slab was knee-high. Theslab itself was a broad square surface. The fragment of golden quartzlay in its center. It was now a jagged lump nearly a foot indiameter!

 * * * * *

The platform seemed shifting as we walked; the railing hardly camecloser as we advanced toward it. Then suddenly I realized it wasreceding. Thirty feet away? No, now it was more than that--a great, thick rope, waist-high, with a huge spread of white surface behind it. 

"Faster!" urged Glora. We ran, and reached the railing. It was higherthan our heads. We ran under it, and out upon the white slab--a levelsurface, larger now than the whole dome-room had been. 

Glora, like a fawn ran in advance of us, her draperies flying in thewind. She turned to look back. 

"Faster! Faster--or it will be too hard a climb!"

Ahead lay a golden mound of rock. It was widening; raising its topsteadily higher. Beyond it and over it was a vast dim distance. Wereached the rock, breathless, winded. It was a jagged mound like agreat fifty-foot butte. We plunged upon it, began climbing. 

The ascent was steep; precipitous in places. There were littlegullies, which expanded as we climbed up them. It seemed that weshould never reach the top, but at last we were there. I was awarethat the drug had ceased its action. The yellow rocky ground was nolonger expanding. 

We came to the summit and stood to get back our breath. And Alan and Igazed with awe upon the top of a rocky hill. Little buttes and strewnboulders lay everywhere. It was all naked rock, ridged and pitted, andeverywhere yellow-tinged. 

Overhead was distance. I could not call it a sky. A blur wasthere--something almost but not quite distinguishable. Then I thoughtthat I could make out a more solid blur which might be the lower lensof the microscope above us. And there were blurred, very distant spotsof light, like huge suns masked by a haze, and I knew that they werethe hooded lights of the laboratory room. 

 * * * * *

Before us, over the brink of a five hundred-foot cliff, a greatglistening white plain stretched into the distance. I seemed to seewhere it ended in a murky blur. And far higher than our own hilltoplevel a horizontal streak marked the rope railing of the slab. 

"Well, " said Alan, "we're here. " He gazed behind us, back across therocky summit which seemed several hundred feet across to its oppositebrink. He was smiling, but the smile faded. "Now what, Glora? Anotherpellet?"

"No. Not yet. There is a place where we go down. It is marked in mymind. "

I had a sudden ominous sense that we three were not alone up here. Glora led us back from the cliff. As we picked our way among the nakedcrags, it seemed behind each of them an enemy might be lurking. 

"Glora, do you know if any of Dr. Polter's men have the drug? I mean, do they come in and out here?"

She shook her head. "I think not. He lets no one have the drug. Hetrusts not any one. I stole it; I will tell you later. Much I have totell you before we arrive. "

Alan made a sudden sidewise leap, and dashed around a rock. He cameback to us, smiling ruefully. 

"Gets on your nerves, all this. I had the same idea you did, George. Might be someone around here. But I guess not. " He took Glora's handand they walked in advance of me. "We haven't thanked you yet, Glora. "

"Not needed. I came for help from your world. I could not get back tomy own, and I followed the Doctor Polter when he came outward. He hasmade my world, my people, his slaves. I came for help. And because Ihave helped you needs no thanks. "

"But we do thank you, Glora. " Alan turned his flushed, earnest faceback to me. I thought I had never seen him so handsome, with hisboyish, rugged features, and shock of tousled brown hair. The grimnessof adventure was upon him, but in his eyes there was something else. It was not for me to see it. That was for Glora; and I think that eventhen its presence and its meaning did not escape her. 

"Stay close, George. "

"Yes. "

 * * * * *

We reached a little gully near the center of the hilltop. It was sometwenty feet deep. Glora paused. 

"We descend here. "

The gully was an unmistakable landmark--open at one end, forty feetlong, with the other end terminating in a blind wall, smoothlyprecipitous. We retraced our steps, entered the gully at its open end, and walked its length. Glora paused by the wall which now loomed aboveus. 

"A pit is here--a hole. I cannot tell just how large it will look whenwe are in this size. "

We found and stood over it--a foot-wide circular hole extendingdownward. Alan abruptly knelt and shoved his hand and arm into it, butGlora sprang at him. 

"Don't do that!"

"Why not? Is this it? How deep is it?"

She retorted sharply, "The Doctor Polter is ahead of us. How far awayin size, who knows? Do you want to crush him, and crush that younggirl with him?"

Alan's jaw dropped. "Good Lord!"

We stood with the little pit before us, and another of the pelletsready. 

"Now!" said Glora. 

Again we took the drug, a somewhat larger pellet this time. Thefamiliar sensations began. Everywhere the rocks were creeping with aslow inexorable movement, the landscape expanding around us. The gullywalls drew back and upward. In a moment they were precipicecliff-walls and we were in a broad valley. 

We had been standing close together. We had not moved except to shiftour feet as the expanding ground drew them apart. I became aware thatAlan and Glora were a distance from me. Glora called:

"Come, George! We go down, quickly now. "

 * * * * *

We ran to the pit. It had expanded to a great round hole some six feetwide and equally as deep. Glora let herself down, peered anxiouslybeneath her, and dropped. Alan and I followed. We jammed the pit; butas we stood there, the walls were receding and lifting. 

I had remarked Glora's downward glance, and shuddered. Suppose, insome slightly smaller size, Babs had been here among these rocks!

The pit widened steadily. The movement was far swifter now. We stoodpresently in a great circular valley. It seemed fully a mile indiameter, with huge encircling walls like a crater rim toweringthousands of feet into the air. We ran along the base of one expandingwall, following Glora. 

I noticed now that overhead the turgid murk had turned into the blueof distance. A sky. It was faintly sky-blue, and there seemed a hazein it, almost as though clouds were forming. It had been cold when westarted. The exertion had kept us fairly comfortable; but now Irealized that the air was far warmer. It was a different air, morehumid, and I thought the smell of moist earth was in it. Rocks andboulders were strewn here on the floor of this giant valley, and I sawoccasional pools of water. There had been rain recently!

The realization came with a shock of surprise. This was a new world! Afaint, luminous twilight was around us. And then I noticed that thelight was not altogether coming from overhead. It seemed inherent tothe rocks themselves. They glowed very faintly luminous, as thoughphosphorescent. 

We were now well embarked upon this strange journey. We spoke seldom. Glora was intent upon guiding us. She was trying to make the bestpossible speed. I realized that it was a case of judgment, as well asphysical haste. We had dropped into that six-foot pit. Had we waited afew moments longer, the depth would have been a hundred feet, twohundred, a thousand! It would have involved hours of arduousdescent--if we had lingered until we were a trifle smaller!

 * * * * *

We took other pellets. We traveled perhaps an hour more. There weremany instances of Glora's skill. We squeezed into a gully and waiteduntil it widened; we leaped little expanding caverns; we slid down asmooth yellowish slide of rock like a child's toboggan, and saw itbehind and over us, rising to become a great spreading ramp extendingupward into the blue of the sky. Now, up there, little sailing whiteclouds were visible. And down where we stood it was deep twilight, queerly silvery with the phosphorescence from the luminous rocks asthough some hidden moon were shining. 

Strange, new world! I suddenly envisaged the full strangeness of it. Around me were spreading miles of barren, naked landscape. I gazed offto where, across the rugged plateau we were traversing, there was arange of hills. Behind and above them were mountains; serrated tiers, higher and more distant. An infinite spread of landscape! And, as wedwindled, still other vast reaches opened before us. I gazed overhead. Was it--compared to my stature now--a thousand miles, perhaps even amillion miles up to where we had been two or three hours ago? I thinkso. 

Then suddenly I caught the other viewpoint. This was all only an inchof golden quartz--if one were large enough to see it that way!

Alan had been trying to memorize the main topographical features ofour route. It was not as difficult as it seemed at first. We werealways far larger than normal to our environment. The maindistinguishing characteristics of the landscape were obvious--theblind gully, with the round pit, for instance, or the ramp-slide. 

We had been traveling some three or four hours when Glora suggested arest. We were at the side-wall of a broad canyon. The wall toweredseveral hundred feet above us; but a few moments before we had jumpeddown it with a single leap!

 * * * * *

The drug we had last taken had ceased its action. We sat down to rest. It was a wild, mountainous scene around us, deep with luminous gloom. We could barely see across the canyon to its distant cliff-wall. Thewall beside us had been smooth, but now it was broken and ridged. There were ravines in it, and dark holes like cave-mouths. One wasnear us. Alan gazed at it apprehensively. 

"I say, Glora. I don't like sitting here. "

I had been telling her all we knew of Polter. She listened quietly, seldom interrupting me. Then she said:

"I understand. I tell you now about Polter as I have seen him. "

She talked for five or ten minutes. I listened amazed, awed by whatshe told. 

But Alan suddenly interrupted her. "I say, let's move away from here. That tunnel-mouth, or cave, whatever it is--"

"But we go in there, " she protested. "A little tunnel. That is our wayto travel. We are not far from my city now. "

Perhaps Alan felt what a generation ago they called a hunch, apremonition, the presage of evil which I think comes strangely to usmore often than we realize. Whatever it was, we had no time to actupon it. The tunnel-mouth which had caused Alan's apprehension wasabout a hundred feet away. It was a ten-foot, black yawning hole inthe cliff. Perhaps Alan sensed a movement off there. As I turned togaze, from the opening came a great hairy human arm! Then a shoulder!A head!

The giant figure of a man came squeezing through the hole on hishands and knees! He gathered himself, and as he stood erect, I sawthat he was growing in size! Already he was twenty feet tall comparedto us--a thick-set fellow, dressed in leather garments, his legs andbare arms heavily matted with black hair. He stood swaying, gazingaround him. I stared up at his round bullet head, his villainous face. 

He saw us! Stupid amazement struck him, then comprehension. 

He let out a roar and came at us!

CHAPTER V

_The Message from Polter_

Glora shouted, "Into the tunnel! This way!" She held her wits anddarted to one side, with Alan and me after her. We ran through anarrow passage between two fifty-foot boulders which lay closetogether. Momentarily the giant was out of sight, but we could hearhis heavy tread and his panting breath. We emerged; had passed him. Hewas taller now. He seemed confused at our sudden scampering activity. He checked his forward rush, and ran around the twin boulders. But wehad squeezed into a narrow ravine. He could not follow. He threw arock: to us it was a boulder. It crashed behind us. To him, we werelike scampering insects; he could not tell which way we were about todart. 

Alan panted, "Glora, this--does this lead out?"

The little ravine seemed to open fifty feet ahead of us. Alan stopped, seized a chunk of rock, flung it up. I saw the giant's face above us. He was kneeling, trying to reach in. The rock hit him in theforehead--a pebble, but it stung him. His face rose away. 

Again we emerged. The tunnel-mouth was near us. We reached it andflung ourselves into its ten-foot width just as the giant came lungingup. He was far larger than before. Looking back, I could see only thelower part of his legs blocked against the outer light. 

"Glora! Alan, where are you?"

For a moment I did not see them. It was darker in this tunnel; brokenrocky walls, a jagged arching roof ten feet high. Then I heard Alan'svoice. 

"George! Here!"

They came running to me. For a moment we stood, undecided what to do. My eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness; it was illumined by adim phosphorescence from the rocks. I saw Alan fumbling for his vials, but Glora stopped him. 

"No! We are the right size. "

 * * * * *

We were a hundred feet back from the opening. The giant's legsdisappeared. But in a moment the round light hole of the exit wasobscured again. His head and shoulders! He was lying prone. His greatarms came in. He hitched forward. The width of his expanding shoulderswedged. 

I think that he expected to reach us with a single snatch of histremendous arms. Or perhaps he was confused, and forgot his growth. Hedid not reach us. His shoulders stuck. Then suddenly he was trying toback out, but could not!

It was only a moment. We stood in the radiant gloom of the tunnel, clinging to each other, ourselves stricken by confusion. The giant'svoice roared, reverberating around us. Anger. A note of fear. Finallystark terror. He heaved, but the rocks of the opening held solid. Thenthere was a crack, a gruesome rattling, splintering--his shoulderbones breaking. His whole gigantic body gave a last convulsive lunge, and he emitted a deafening shrill scream of agony. 

I was aware of the tunnel-mouth breaking upward. Falling rocks--anavalanche, a cataclysm around us. Then light overhead. 

The giant's crushed body lay motionless. A pile of boulders, rocks andloose metallic earth was strewn upon his head and torso, illumined bythe outer light through a jagged rent where the cliff-face had fallendown. 

We were unhurt, crouching back from the avalanche. The giant's mangledbody was still expanding; shoving at the litter of loose rocks. In amoment it would again be too large for the broken cliff opening. 

I found my wits. "Alan! Out of here--God! Don't you see--"

 * * * * *

But Glora held us. The drug the giant had taken was about at its end, and Glora recognized it. The growth presently stopped. That huge, noisome mass of pulp which once had been human shoulders--

I shoved Glora away. "Don't look!" I was shaking; my head was reeling. Alan's face, painted by the phosphorescence, was ghastly. 

Glora pulled at us. "This way! The tunnel is not too long. We go. "

But the giant had drugs. And perhaps weapons. "Wait!" I urged. "Youtwo wait here. I'll climb over him. "

I told them why, and ran. I can only leave to the imagination thatbrief exploratory climb. The broken body seemed at least a hundredfeet long; the mangled shoulders and chest filled the great torn holein the cliff. I climbed over the litter. Indescribable, horriblescene! A river of warm blood was flowing down the declivityoutside. .. . 

I came back to Glora and Alan. Under my arm was a huge cylinder vial. It was black--the enlarging drug. I set it down. They stared at me inmy blood-stained garments. 

"George! You're--"

"His blood, not mine, Alan. " I tried to smile. "There's the drug hecarried. Evidently Polter was only sending him out. Just the onedrug. "

"What'll we do with it?" Alan demanded. "Look at the size of it!"

"Destroy it, " said Glora. "See, that is not difficult. " She tugged atthe huge stopper, and exposed a few of the pellets--to us as large asapples. "The air will soon spoil it. "

We left it in the tunnel. I had brought a great roll of paper; hadfound it folded in the giant's belt, with the drug cylinder. Weunrolled it, and hauled its folds to a spread some ten feet long. Itwas covered with a scrawled handwriting in pencil, but its giantcharacters seemed thick blurred strokes of charcoal. We could not readit; we were too close. Alan and Glora held it up against the tunnelwall. From a distance I could make it out. It was a note written inEnglish, signed "Polter, " evidently to one of his men. 

I read it:

"The two men prisoners, kill them at once. That is better. It will betoo dangerous to wait for my return. Put their bodies with theirairplane. Crash it a mile or more from our gate. "

Full directions for our death followed. And Polter said he wouldreturn by dawn or soon after. 

 * * * * *

It gave me a start. By dawn! We had been traveling four or five hours. The dawn was up there now!

"No, " said Glora. She and Alan cast away the paper. "No, the time inhere is different. A different time-rate. I do not know how muchdifference. My world speeds faster; yours is very slow. It is not thedawn up there quite yet. "

Again my mind strove to encompass these things so strange. A fastertime-rate prevailed in here? Then our lives were passing more quickly. We were living, experiencing things, compressed into a shorterinterval. It was not apparent; there was nothing to which comparisoncould be made. I recalled Alan's description of Polter--not thirtyyears old as he should have been, but nearer fifty. I could understandthat, now. A day in here--while our gigantic world outside might onlyhave progressed a few hours. 

We walked the length of the tunnel. I suppose it was a quarter of amile, to us in this size. It wound through the cliff with a steadydownward slope. And suddenly I realized that we had turned downwardnearly half the diameter of a circle! We had turned over--or at leastit seemed so. But the gravity was the same. I had noticed from thebeginning very little change. 

The realization of this turning brought a mental confusion. I lost allsense of direction. The outer world of Earth was under my feet, instead of overhead. Then we went level. I forgot the confusion; thiswas normality here. We turned upward a little. Cross tunnelsintersected ours at intervals. I saw caverns, open, widened tunnels, as though this mountain were honeycombed. 

"Look!" said Glora. "There is the way out. All these passages lead thesame way. "

 * * * * *

There was a glow of light ahead. I recall that I was at that momentfumbling at my belt in two small compartments of which I was carryingthe two vials of the drugs which Glora had given me. Alan wore thesame sort of belt. We had found them in the wrecked dome-room. I hearda click on the ground at my feet. I was about to stoop to see what Ihad kicked--only a loose stone, perhaps--but Glora's words distractedme. I did not stoop. If only I had, how different events might havebeen!

The glow of light ahead of us widened as we approached, and presentlywe stood at the end of the tunnel. A spread of open distance wasoutside. We were on a ledge of a rocky, precipitous wall some fiftyfeet above a wide level landscape. Vegetation! I saw trees--a forestoff to the left. A range of naked hills lay behind it. A mile away, infront and to the right, a little town nestled on the shore of shiningwater. There was starlight on the water! And over it a vastblue-purple sky was studded with stars!

I gazed, with that first sudden shock of emotion, into illimitabledepths of interplanetary space! Light years of distance. Giganticworlds, blazing suns off there shrunken by distance now to littlepoints of light. A universe was here!

But this was an inch of golden quartz!

Above my head were stars which, compared to my bodily size now, werevast worlds ten thousand light-years away! Yet, from the otherviewpoint, I had only descended perhaps an eighth or a quarter of aninch beneath the broken pitted surface of a little fragment of goldenquartz the size of a walnut--into just one of its myriads of goldenatoms!

CHAPTER VI

_The Girl in the Golden Cage_

"My world, " Glora was saying. "You like it? See the starlight on thelake? I have heard that your world looks like this at night, insummer. Ours is always like this. No day, no night. Just likethis--starlight. " Her hand went to Alan's shoulder. "You like it? Myworld?"

"Yes. Yes, Glora, It's beautiful. "

There seemed a sheen on everything, a soft, glowing sheen ofphosphorescence from the rocks rising to meet the pale wan starlight. The night air was soft, with a gentle breeze that rippled the distantlake into a great spread of gold and silver light. 

The city was called Orena. I saw at once that we were about normalsize to its houses and people. There were fields beneath our ledge, with farm implements lying in them; no workers, for this was the timefor sleep. Ribbons of roads wound over the country, pale streamers inthe starlight. 

Glora gestured. "The giants are on their island. Everyone sleeps now. You see the island off there?"

Beyond the city, over the low stone roofs of its flat-toppeddwellings, the silver spread of lake showed a green-clad island somethree miles off shore. The distance made its white stone houses seemsmall. But as I gazed, I realized that they were large to theirenvironment, all far larger than those of the little town. The islandwas perhaps a mile in length. Between it and the mainland a boat wascoming toward us. It was a dark blob of hull on the shining water, andabove it a queerly shaped circular sail was puffed out like aballoon-parachute by the wind. 

 * * * * *

"The giants live, there?" said Alan. 

"You mean Polter's men?"

"And women. Yes. "

"Are there many giants?"

"No. "

"How many?" I put in. "How large are they? In relation to us now, Imean. And to your normal size?"

I turned to Alan. "Polter and Babs must be down there now! They musthave arrived only recently. But we must determine what size to bebefore we go any further. We can't be gigantic If he sees us--if weassailed him--well, he'd kill Babs. We're got to plan. Glora tellus--"

"You ask so many questions so fast, George. There are two hundred ormore of the giants. And there are more than that many thousands of ourpeople here. Slaves, because the giants are four times as large. Thislittle city, these fields, these hills of stone and metal, all thiswas ours to have in peace and happiness--until your Polter came. Andthat starlight on the water--"

She gestured. "Everywhere is a great reach of desert and forests. Insects, but there are no wild beasts--nothing to harm us. Nature iskind here. The weather is always like this. We were happy--untilPolter came. "

"And only a few thousand people, " Alan said. "No other cities?"

"What lies off in the great distance we do not know. Our nation is tentimes what is here. A few other cities, though some of our people livein the forests--"

She broke off. "That boat is coming for Polter. He is in the city, nodoubt of that. The boat will take him and that girl you call Babs tothe giant's island. His castle is there. "

 * * * * *

If we could get on that boat and go with him to the island--! But inwhat size? Very small? But then, if we were very small it would takeus hours to get from here to the boat. Glora pointed out where itwould land--just beyond the village where the houses were set in asparse fringe. It would be there, apparently, in ten or fifteenminutes. Polter was probably there now with Babs, waiting for it. 

In our present size we could not get there in time. It was two orthree miles at least. But a trifle larger--the size of one of Polter'sgiants--would enable us to make it. We would be seen, but in the palestarlight, keeping away from the city as much as possible, we mightonly be mistaken for Polter's people. And when we got closer we woulddiminish our size, creep into the boat, get near Babs and Polter andthen plan what to do. 

Futile plans! All of life is so futile, so wind-swept upon the tossingsea of chance!

We climbed down from the ledge and stood at the base of the toweringcliff which reared its jagged wall against the stars. A field and aroad were near us. The road seemed of normal size. A man was acrossthe field. He did not seem to notice us. He was apparently about myheight. He presently discarded his work, went away from us andvanished. 

"Hurry, Glora. " Alan and I stood beside her while she took pelletsfrom her vials. It needed a careful adjustment. We wanted our staturenow to be four times what it was. Glora gave us pellets of both drugs, one of which was slightly more intense than the other. 

"Polter made them this way, " she said. "The two at once gives just thegrowth to take us from this normal size to the stature of the giants. "

Alan and I did not touch our own vials. We had used none of ourenlarging drug upon the journey; the supply she had given us of theother was nearly gone. 

 * * * * *

As I took these pellets which Glora now gave us, standing there by theside of that road, I recall that I was struck with the realizationthat never once upon this journey had I conceived myself to be otherthan normal stature. I am normally about six feet tall. I stillfelt--there in that golden atom--the same height. This landscapeseemed of normal size. There were trees nearby--spreading, fantasticlooking growths with great strings of pods hanging from them. Butstill, as I looked up to see one arching over me with its blue-brownleaves and an air-vine carrying vivid yellow blossoms--whatever thesize of the tree, my consciousness could only conceive myself as of anormal six-foot stature standing beneath it. The human ego always issupreme! Around each man's consciousness of himself the entireuniverse revolves!

We crouched on the ground when this growth now began; it would not doto be observed changing size. Polter's giants never did that. Yearsbefore, he had made them large--his few hundred men and women. Theywere, Glora said, people both of this realm and from our great worldabove--dissolute, criminal characters who now had set themselves uphere as the nucleus of a ruling race. 

In a moment now, we were the size of these giants. Twenty totwenty-five feet tall, in relation to this environment. But I did notfeel so. As I stood up--still myself in normal stature--I saw aroundme a shrunken little landscape. The trees, as though in a Japanesegarden, were about my own height; the road was a smooth level path:the little field near us a toy fence around it. In another road acrossit, the man was walking. In height he would barely have reached myknees. He saw us rise beside the trees. He darted off his road inalarm, and disappeared. 

 * * * * *

I have taken longer to tell all this than the actual time whichpassed. We could see the boat coming from the island, and it was stilla fair distance off shore. We ran along the road, skirting the edge ofthe little town. Its houses were none of them taller than ourselves. The windows and doorways were ovals into which we could only haveinserted a head or an arm. They were most of them dark. Little peopleoccasionally stared out, saw us run past, and ducked back, thankfulthat we did not stop to harass them. 

"This way, " said Glora. She ran like a fawn, hardly winded, with Alanand me heavily panting behind her. "There are trees--thicktrees--quite near where the boat lands. We can get in them and hideand change our size to smallness. But hurry, for we will need so muchtime when we are small!"

The little spread of town and the shining lake remained always to ourright. In five minutes we were past most of the houses. A patch ofwoods, with thick interlacing treetops about our own height, layahead. It extended a few hundred feet over to the lake shore. Thesailboat was heading in close. There was a broad, starlit roadway atthe edge of the lake, and a dock there at which the boat was preparingto land. 

Would we be in time? I suddenly feared not. To get small now, withdistance lengthening between us and the boat, would be disastrous. Andwhere was Polter?

Abruptly we saw him. There had been only little people visible to us;none of our own height. The lake roadway by the dock was brightlystarlit. As we approached the intervening patch of woods it seemedthat a crowd of little people were near the dock. Polter must havebeen sitting. But now he rose up. We could not mistake his hunchedthick figure, the lump on his shoulders clear in the starlight withthe gleaming lake as a background. The crowd of little figures weremilling around his knees. In the silence of the night the murmur oftheir voices floated over to us. 

"There he is!" Alan gasped. We all three checked our running; we wereat the edge of the patch of woods. "By God, there he is! Let's getlarger! Rush him! Why that's only a few hundred feet over there!"

But Babs? Where was Babs?

"Alan! Down!" I crouched, pulling Alan and Glora with me. "Don't lethim see us! He'd know at once--and where is Babs? Can't rush him, Alan. He'd see us coming--kill her--"

 * * * * *

Of all the strange events which had been flung at us, I think thissudden crisis now most confused Alan and me. To get larger, orsmaller? Which? Yet something must be done at once. 

Glora said, "We can get through the woods best in this size. And notbe seen--get closer to the landing. "

We crouched so that the little treetops were always well over us. Thepatch of woods was dark. A soil of black loam was under us, a thicksoft underbrush reached our knees, and lacy, flexible leaves andbranches were at our shoulder height. We pushed them aside, forcingour way softly forward. It was not far. The little murmuring voices ofthe crowd grew louder. 

Presently we were crouching at the other edge of the woods. I softlyshoved the tree branches aside until we could all three get a clearview of the strange scene now directly before us. 

And I saw a toy dock, at which a twenty-foot, barge-like open sailboatwas landing; a narrow starlit roadway, crowded with a milling throngof people all no more than a foot and a half in height. The crowdmilled almost to where we were crouching, unseen in the shrubbery. 

Across the road by the dock. Polter stood with the crowd down aroundhis knees. In height he seemed the old familiar Polter. Bareheaded, with his shaggy black hair shot with white. He was dressed in Earthfashion: narrow black evening trousers and a white shirt and collarwith flowing black tie. I saw at once what Alan had noticed--thechange in him. An abnormality of age. I would have called him nowforty, or older. Beyond even that there was an abnormality. A man oldbefore his time; or younger than he should have been for the years hehad lived. An indescribable mingling of something. The mingling, ofthe two worlds, perhaps. It marked him with a look at once unnaturaland sinister. 

These were instant impressions. Glora was plucking at me. "On thewhite chest of his shirt, something is there. "

 * * * * *

Polter was coatless, with snowy white shirt and cuffs to his thickwrists. He was no more than fifty feet from us. On his shirt bosomsomething golden in color was hanging like a large bauble, anornament, an insignia. It was strapped tightly there with a band abouthis chest, a cord like a necklace chain up to his thick hunched neck, and other chains down to his belt. 

I stared at it. An ornament, like a cube held flat against hisshirt-front--a little golden cube, ornate with tiny bars. 

I heard Alan murmuring, "A cage! Why George, it's--"

And then, simultaneously, realization struck me. It was a golden cagestrapped there. And I seemed to see that there was something in it. Atiny figure? Babs!

"I think he has her there, " Glora murmured. "You see the little boxwith bars? The girl Babs, a prisoner in there. " She spoke swiftly, vehemently. "He will take the boat to the island. "

She suddenly gripped us. "You think really it best to go? I do whatyou say. I had the wish to get to my father with these drugs. "

"No!" exclaimed Alan. "We must keep close to Polter!"

We were ready with our pellets. But a sudden activity in the road madeus pause. The crowd of little people were hostile to Polter. A sullenhostility. They milled about him as he stood there, gazing down atthen sardonically. 

And abruptly he shouted at them in English. "You speak my language, some of you. Then listen. "

The crowd fell silent. 

"Listen. This iss your future Queen. Can you see her? She iss smallnow. But she has the magic power. Soon, she will be large. Like me. "

The crowd was shouting again. It surged forward, but it lacked aleader, and those in advance shoved backward in fear. 

Polter spoke again. "This girl from my world, you will like her. Sheiss kind and very beautiful. When she iss large, you will see howbeautiful. "

A little stone suddenly came up from the throng of little people andstruck Polter on the shoulder. Then another. The crowd, emboldened, made a rush; surged against his legs. 

He shouted, "You do that? Why how dare you? I show to you what giantsdo when you make dem angry!"

From down by his knees he plucked the small figure of a man. The crowdscattered with shouts of terror. Polter had the strugglingeighteen-inch figure by the wrist. He whirled it around his head likea nine-pin and flung it over the canopy of the dock far out into theshimmering lake!

CHAPTER VII

_Within the Golden Cage_

The trees around us expanded to towering forest giants. The underbrushrose up over our heads. We had taken only a taste of the diminishingdrug; Glora showed us how to touch it to our tongue several times, toadjust our size as we became smaller. It was no more than a minute ofdiminishing. We could hear the roar of the crowd, and Polter's voiceshouting. We ran forward through the great forest. It was a fairdistance out to the starlit road. We saw it as a wide shiningesplanade. The people now were giants twice our height! Polter, himself towering with a seeming fifty foot stature, was standing bythe gigantic canopy of the dock. He had dispersed the crowd. There wasan open space on the esplanade--a run for us of about a hundred feet. 

"We've got to chance it!" I murmured. "Make a run of it--now. "

We darted across. In the confusion, with all eyes centered on Polter, we escaped discovery. It was dim under the dock canopy. Polter hadbacked from the road and was walking to the barge. It lay like thelength of an ocean liner, its sail looming an enormous spread aboveit. The gunwale was level with the dock-floor. A dozen or morefifty-foot men were greeting Polter. They were amidships. 

I realize now that in those moments as we scurried aboard like wharfrats, we took wild chances. We made for the stern which momentarilywas unoccupied. To Polter and his men we were eight or nine inchestall. We dropped over the gunwale, slid down the convex thirty orforty-foot incline of the interior and landed on the bottom of theboat. 

There were many places where we could safely hide. A litter ofgigantic rope-strands was around us. We could see the bottom of across-bench looming overhead, and the great curving sides of thevessel with the gunwales outlined against the starlight. 

 * * * * *

The boat left the dock in a moment; the sail bellied out enormous overus. Ten feet forward from us the towering figure of a man sat on abench with the steering mechanism before him. Further on, the othermen were dispersed, with one or two in the distant bow. Polterreclined on a cushioned couch amidships. Looking along the dark widelylevel bottom of the boat there were only the feet and legs of the menvisible. 

Alan whispered, "Let's get closer. "

We were insects soundlessly scuttling unnoticed in the dimness. And itwas noisy down here--the clank of the steering mechanism; the swish, and surge of the water against the hull; the voices of the men. 

We passed the boots of the seated helmsmen, and found another hidingplace nearer Polter. We could see his giant length plainly. None ofthe other men were near him. He was reclining on an elbow, stretchedat ease on the cushion. And at the moment, he was fumbling with thechains that fastened the little golden cage to his chest. The cage wasdouble its former size to us now. A shaft of pale light came down, reflected from the great sail surface overhead. It struck the bars ofthe cage. We could see a small figure in there. 

Babs!

Then we heard Polter's voice. "I will let you out, Babs. You come out, sit on my hand and talk with me. That will be nice? We haf a littletime. "

He unfastened the cage and put it on the cushion beside him. He wasstill propped up on one elbow. 

"I let you out, now. Be careful, Babs. "

My heart was almost smothering me. "Alan! We've got to get stillcloser! Try something! Get large, shall we?"

Alan whispered tensely, "I don't know! Oh, I don't know what to do!This thing--"

This thing so strange. 

"We can get closer, " Glora whispered. "But never larger--not here. They would discover us too soon. "

 * * * * *

We crept forward. We reached the edge of the cushion. Its top surfacewas a trifle lower than our heads--a billowing, wrinkled mass offabric. But I saw that the folds of it were rough enough to afford afoothold. I thought that I could climb it. We stood erect. There was adeep shadow along here, but it was brighter on the cushion top. Wecould see over its edge; an undulating spread of surface with thegiant length of Polter stretched there. The cage was nearer to us. Polter's great fingers fumbled with it; a door in the lattice barsflipped open. 

"Careful, my Babs!" His voice was a throaty, rumbling roar from aboveus. "Careful! I do not want you to be hurt. "

From the little doorway came the figure of Babs! The starlight glowedon her long blue dress; her black hair was tumbling over hershoulders; her face was pale, but she was unhurt. 

Babs! I think that I had never loved her so much as at that moment. Nor ever seen her so beautiful as in that miniature, standing at thedoor of her golden cage, bravely facing the monstrous misshapen figureof her captor. 

We heard her small voice. 

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stand quiet. Now I put my hand for you. "

His monstrous hand bristled with a thatch of heavy black hair. Hebrought it carefully sliding along the cushion. Babs was barely thelength of one of its finger joints. She climbed upon its palm. 

"That iss right, Babs. Now I bring you--hold tight to my finger. Here, I crook the little one. Fling your arms around it. "

With a swoop his hand took her aloft and away. Then we saw her, twentyfeet or so in the air, still on his hand as he held it near his face. 

"Now we haf a little talk, Babs. When we get to the island, I put youback in your cage. "

 * * * * *

I had a sudden flash of realization. Something I could do. I did notplan it. I know now my judgment was bad. I recall it struck me thatAlan would want to do it also. And, perhaps, even Glora. That wouldnot work. My chances, however desperate, were better alone. And Gloraand Alan--in our present size-could doubtless disembark safely. Gloraknew the lay-out of the island. She could follow Polter. 

Alan and Glora were standing beside me, peering over that billowingcushion spread toward the distant giant palm with Babs standing uponit. I gripped Alan's shoulder. 

"See here, Alan, " I whispered vehemently, "whatever happens, we mustfollow Polter. Glora knows the way. Some chance will come. What wewant is an opportunity to get large without discovery. Then rushPolter!"

Alan's white face turned to me. "Yes, that's what we're planning. ButGeorge, here on this boat--"

"Of course. Can't do it here. Tell Glora, be sure and follow Polter. Whatever happens, you think of nothing else: you won't, will you?"

"George, what--"

"We've got to make some opportunity. " I was trembling inside, fearfulthat Alan would be suspicious of me. Yet I had to make sure that heand Glora would stay as close to Polter as possible. 

"Yes, " Alan agreed. "Listen to them. "

Polter was talking to Babs. But I did not hear the words. I moved atrifle away. Rash decision! I hardly decided anything. There was onlythe vision of Babs before me; my love for her. And my desperate needof doing something; getting to her; seeing her, being with her; havingher near my own size again as though the blessed normality of thatwould rationalize and lessen her danger. If only I had been less rash!If only back there in that tunnel I had stopped to see what it was myfoot kicked against!

 * * * * *

I slid away. Alan and Glora did not notice it; they were whisperingtogether and gazing over the cushion at Babs. In the floor shadow Imoved some ten feet. On the undulating top of the cushion the littlegolden cage stood with its lattice door open! It was only a few feetfrom my face. 

I fumbled at my belt for the diminishing vial. I found one pelletleft. Well, that would be enough. I was hurried. Alan might discoverme. Polter might move; put Babs back in the cage and close its door. We might be near the island already, and the confusion, the activityof disembarking would defeat me. A thousand things might happen. 

I touched the pellet to my tongue. In a few seconds the drug actionhad come and passed. The cushion top loomed well over my head. Theside was a ridged, indescribably unnatural vista of cliff-wall. Thefabric was coarse with hairy strands, dented into little ravines andcrevices. I climbed. I came panting to the pillow surface. The goldencage was six or eight feet away and was now two feet high. 

Again I touched the drug to my tongue; held it an instant. The cagedrew away; grew to a normal six-foot height; then larger, until in amoment it stopped. I stood peering at it, trying to gauge its size inrelation to me. I wanted so intensely now to be normal to Babs. Thecage seemed about ten feet high. A little less, possibly. I barelytasted the pellet, and replaced it carefully in the vial. I could onlyhope its efficacy would be preserved. 

I had to chance that I would not be seen now crossing this billowyexpanse. I ran. The rope strands of the fabric now had spaces betweentheir curving surfaces. The cage was a shining golden house, set onthis wide rolling area. Far in the distance there was a blur--Polter'sreclining body. 

I reached the cage. It was a room about ten feet square and equally ashigh. Walled solid, top and bottom, and on three sides. The front wasa lattice of bars, with a narrow six-foot-high doorway, standing opennow. 

I dashed in. The interior was not wholly bare. There was ametal-wrought couch fastened to the wall, with a railing around it andhandles. It suggested a ship's bunk. There was a railing at convenientheight all around the wall. 

I sought a hiding place. I saw just one--under the couch. It wassecluded enough. There was a grille-like lattice extending down fromthe seat to the floor. I squeezed under one end, and lay wedged behindthe grille. 

 * * * * *

How much time passed I do not know. My thoughts were racing. Babswould be coming. 

I heard the distant approaching rumble of Polter's voice. Through thegrille I could see across the floor of the ten-foot cage to the frontlattice bars. Outside, there appeared a huge, pink-white, mottledblob--Polter's hand, a ridged and pitted surface with great bristlingblack stalks of hair. 

The figure of Babs came through the cage doorway. Blessed normality!The same slim little Babs who always stood, since we were bothmatured, with her head about level with my shoulders. 

The latticed door swung shut with a reverberating metallic clank. Babsstood tense, clinging to the wall railing. I heard the blurred rumbleof Polter's voice. 

"Hold tightly, my little Babs!"

The room lurched; went upward and sidewise with a wild dizzying swoop. Babs clung; and I was wedged prone under the couch. Then the movementstopped; there was a jolting, rocking, and outside I heard the clankof metal. Polter was fastening the chains of the cage to his chest. 

A white reflected glow now came through the bars. It was starlightreflected from Polter's shirt bosom. An abyss of distance was outside. I could see nothing but the white glow. 

Momentarily there was very little movement to the room. Only therhythmic sway of Polter's breathing and an occasional jolt as heshifted his position. The floor was tilted at a sharp angle. Babs cametoward the couch, pulling herself along the wall railing. 

I called softly, "Babs! Babs, dear!"

She stopped. I called again, "Babs! Don't cry out! It's George!Here--stand still!"

She gave a little cry. "George--where are you? I don't--"

I slid out from my concealment and stood up, holding to the railing. 

"Babs, dear. "

Blessed normality of size! She cried again, "George! You! George, dear--"

She edged along the railing, a step or two down the tilting floor, then released her hold and flung herself into my waiting arms. 

 * * * * *

"I think we are landing. Hold the railing, George. When the room movesit goes with a rush. "

Babs laughed softly. It must have seemed to her, after being alone inhere, that now our plight was far less desperate. She had told me howshe was captured. A man accosted her on the terrace, saying he wantedto speak to her about Alan. Then a weapon threatened her. Amid allthose people she was held up in old fashioned style, hurried to ataxicar and whirled away. 

She was saying now, "When Polter moves, it is dizzying. You'll see. "

"I have already, Babs. Heavens, that swoop!"

The room was more level now. We carefully drew ourselves to the frontlattice. Polter was standing, and we had the white sheen from hisshirt-front. A sheer drop was outside the bars, but looking down Icould see the outlines of his body with the huge spread of the boatinterior underneath us. 

A confusion of rumbling voices sounded. Blurred giant shapes wereoutside. The room jolted and swayed as the boat landed and Polterdisembarked. 

Babs stood clinging to me. Blessed normality of size! We, at least, were normal--this metal barred room, Babs and I. But outside was theabnormality of largeness. I think that in relation to us, the men wereof over two hundred foot stature, and the hunched Polter a trifleless. It seemed as he walked that we were lurching at least a hundredand fifty feet above the ground. 

"You had better hide, " Babs urged. "He might stop and speak tosomeone. If anyone peered in here you would be seen: no chance then, even to get across the room. "

 * * * * *

It was true. But for a few moments I lingered, though I coulddistinguish vegetation on their flat roof-tops, as thoughflower-gardens were laid there. 

We passed a house with its hundred-foot oval windows all aglow withlight. Music floated out--a distant blare of musical sounds, and theribald laughter of giant voices. I had seen no women among thesegiants of the islands. But now a huge face was at one of the ovals. Adissolute, painted woman of Earth, staring out at Polter as he passed. It was like the enormous close-up image on a large motion picturescreen. She shouted a ribald jest as he went by. 

"George, please go back. Suppose she had seen you?"

We were ascending a hill. A distance ahead a great oblong buildingloomed like a giant's palace, which indeed it was. We headed for it, passed through a vast arching doorway into the greater dimness of anechoing interior. I scurried back across the lurching room and againwedged myself under the couch. Babs stood at the lattice ten feetaway. We dared to talk in low tones; the rumbling voices and footstepsoutside would make our tiny voices inaudible to Polter. 

I was tense with my plans. I had told them to Babs. With the onepartially used remaining pellet of the diminishing drug we could makeourselves small enough to walk out through the bars. Then my blackvial of the enlarging chemicals, as yet unused, would take us up, outto our own world. We could not use the drugs now. But the chance mightcome when Polter would set the cage on the ground, or somewhere sothat we might climb down from it, with a chance to hide and get largebefore we were discovered. I would fight our way upward; all I neededwas a fair start in size. 

 * * * * *

But I lay now with doubts assailing me. This was the first moment Ihad had for calm thoughts, though in truth they were far from calm!Where were Alan and Glora? Following us now? I could only hope so. Once out of this, Babs and I would have to rejoin them. But how? Apanic swept me. I should not have left them. Or at least I should havetold them what I was trying, and given Alan a chance to plan. 

The panic grew upon me, the premonition of disaster. From my belt Itook the opalescent vial with its one partly used pellet. I dumped thepellet out. It was spoiling! The former exposure of the air, themoisture of my tongue, had ruined it! I had no need to guess at thecatastrophe; as I held its crumbling, deliquescing fragments on mypalm it melted into vapor and was gone!

We could not make ourselves smaller! We would have to wait now untilPolter opened the cage. But once outside, the enlarging drug wouldgive us our chance to fight our way upward. My trembling fingerssought the black vial in my belt. It was not there! My mind flungback: in that tunnel, something had dropped and I had kicked it!Accursed chance! My accursed, heedless stupidity!

I had lost the black vial! We were helpless! Caged! Marooned here in asize microscopic!

CHAPTER VIII

_From a Drop of Water_

I lay concealed, and Babs stood at the lattice of our cage room. I wasaware that Polter had entered some vast apartment of this giantpalace. A brighter light was outside; I heard voices--Polter's andanother man's. I could see the distant monster shape of one. He was atfirst so far away that all his outline was visible. A seated man, in ahuge white room. I thought there were great shelves with enormousbottles. The spread of table tops passed under our cage as Polterwalked by them. They held a litter of apparatus, and there was thesmell of chemicals in the air. It seemed that this was a laboratory. 

The man stood up to greet Polter. I had a glimpse of his head andshoulders level with us. He wore a white linen coat, open, soft collarand black tie. He seemed an old man, queerly old, with snow-whitehair. .. . 

I had an instant of whirling, confused impressions. Something wasfamiliar about his face. It was seamed and wrinkled with lines of ageand care. There were gentle blue eyes. 

Then all I could see was the vast spread of his white shirt and coat, a black splotch of his tie outside our bars as Polter faced him. 

Babs gave a low cry. "Why--why--dear God--"

And then I knew! And Polter's words were not needed, though I heardtheir rumble. 

"I am back again, Kent. Are you still rebellious? You haf stilldetermined to compound no more of our drugs? You would rather I killedyou? Then see what I haf here. This little cage, someone--"

It was Dr. Kent, a prisoner here all these years!

Babs turned her white face toward me. "George, it's father! He'salive! Here!"

"Quiet, Babs! Don't let them know I'm here. Remember!"

The old man recognized her. "Babs!" It was an agonized cry. The blurof him was gone as he sank down into his chair. 

Polter continued standing. I could envisage his sardonic grin. Babswas calling:

"Father, dear! Father!"

From over us came Polter's rumble. "She iss glad to see you, Kent. Ihaf her here, safe. You always knew I would nefer be satisfied until Ihad my little Babs? Well, now I haf her. Can you hear me?"

A sudden desperate calmness fell on Babs. She called evenly, "Yes, Ihear you. Father, do not anger him. Do not rebel; do what he commands. Dr. Polter, will you let me be with my father? After all these years, let me be with him, just for a little while. In his size--normal. "

"Hah! My Babs iss scheming. "

"No! I want to talk to him, after so long. These years when I thoughthe was dead. "

"Scheming. You think, my little Babs, that he has the drugs? I am notso much a fool. He makes them. He can do that, and the last secretreactions only he can perform. He iss stubborn. Never would he tell methat one reaction. But he makes no drugs complete, only when I amhere. "

"No, Dr. Polter! I want only to be with him. "

The old man's broken voice floated up to us. "You will not harm her, Polter?"

"No. Fear nothing. But you no longer rebel?"

"I will do what you tell me. " The tones carried hopeless resignation, years of being beaten down, rebelling--but now this last blowvanquished him. Then he spoke again, with a sudden strange fire. 

"Even for the life of my daughter, I will not make your drugs, Polter, if you mean to harm our Earth. "

The golden cage room swooped as Polter sat down. "Hah! Now we bargain. What do you care what I do to your world? You never will see it again. I can lie to you. My plans--"

"I do care. "

"Well, I will tell you, Kent. I am good natured now. Why should I notbe, with my dear little Babs? I tell you. I am done with the Earthworld. It iss so much nicer here. My friends, they haf a good timealways. We like this little atom realm. I am going out once more. Imust hide the little piece of golden quartz so no harm will come toit. "

 * * * * *

Polter was evidently in a high good humor. His voice fell to anintimate tone of comradeship; but still I could not mistake the ironyof it. 

"You listen to me, Kent. There was a time, years ago, when we weregood friends. You liked your young assistant, the hunchback Polter. Iss it not so? Then why should we quarrel now? I am gifing up theEarth world. I wanted of it only the little Babs. .. . You look at me sostrange! You do not speak. "

"There is nothing to say, " retorted Dr. Kent wearily. 

"Then you listen. I haf much gold above, in Quebec. You know that. Sovery simple to take it out of our atom, grow large with it, to what wecall up there the size of a hundred feet. I haf a place, a room, secluded from prying eyes under a dome-roof. I become very tall, holding a piece of gold. It is large when I am a hundred feet tall. SoI haf collected much gold. They think I own a mine. I haf a smelterand my gold quartz I make into ingots, refined to the standard purity. So simple, and I am a rich man. 

"But gold does not bring happiness, my friend Kent. " He chuckledironically at his use of the platitude. "There is more in life thanthe ownership of gold. You ask my plans. I haf Babs, now. I am gifingup our Earth world. The mysterious man they know as Frank Rascor willvanish. I will hide our little fragment of quartz. No one up therewill even try to find it. Then I come down here, with Babs, and wewill haf so nice a little government and rule this world. No more ofthe drugs then will be needed, Kent. When you die, let the secret diewith you. "

Again Polter's voice turned ingratiating, even more so than before. "We will be friends, Kent. Our little Babs will lof me; why shouldshe not? You will tell her--advise her--and we will all three be veryhappy. "

Dr. Kent said abruptly, "Then leave her with me now. That was herrequest, a moment ago. If you expect to treat her kindly, then whynot--"

"I do! I do! But not now. I cannot spare her now. I am very busy, butI must take her with me. "

 * * * * *

Babs had been silent, clinging to the bars of our cage. She called:

"Why? I ask you to put this cage down. "

"Not now, little bird. "

"And let me be with my father. "

It struck a pang through me. Babs was scheming, but not the way Polterthought. She wanted the cage put on the floor, herself out, and achance for me to escape. I had not yet told her of my miserablestupidity in losing the vial. 

Polter was repeating. "No, little bird. Presently; not now. I may takeyou out with me, my last trip out. I want to talk with you in a normalsize when I haf time. "

Our room swooped as he stood up. "You think over what I haf said, Kent. You get ready now to make the fresh drugs I will need to bringdown all my men from the outer world. They will all be glad to come, or, if not--well, we can easily kill those who refuse. You make thedrugs. I need plenty. Will you?"

"Yes. "

"That iss good. I come back soon and gif you the catalyst for thatlast reaction. Will you be ready?"

"Yes. "

The blur outside our bars swung with a dizzying whirl as Polter turnedand left the room, locking its door after him with a reverberatingclank. 

 * * * * *

Left alone in his laboratory, Dr. Kent began his preparations formaking a fresh supply of the drugs. This room, with two smaller onesadjoining, was at once his workshop and his prison. He stood at hisshelves, selecting the basic chemicals. He could not complete thefinal compounds. The catalyst which was necessary to the finalreaction would be brought to him by Polter. 

How long he worked there with his thoughts in a whirl at seeing Babs, he did not know. His movements were automatic; he had done all this somany times before. His mind was confused, and he was trembling fromhead to foot, an old, queerly, unnaturally old man now--unnerved. Hisshaking fingers could hardly hold the test tubes. 

His thoughts were flying. Babs was here, come down from the worldabove. It was disaster--the thing he had feared all these years. 

He suddenly heard a voice. 

"Father!"

And again: "Father!" A tiny voice, down by his shoe-tops. Two smallfigures were there on the floor beside him. They were both panting, winded by running. They were enlarging; they had come from a smallersize. 

It was Alan and Glora, who had followed Polter from the boat, diminished again, and come running through the tiny crack under themetal door of the laboratory. 

They grew to a foot in size, down by Dr. Kent's legs. He was toounnerved; he sat in a chair while Alan swiftly told him what hadhappened. Babs was in the golden cage. Dr. Kent knew that; but none ofthem knew what had happened to me. 

"We must make you small, Father. We have the drugs, here with us. "

"Yes! Yes, Alan. How much have you? Show me. Oh, my boy, that you arehere--and Babs--"

"Don't you worry, we'll get away from him. "

 * * * * *

Glora and Alan had almost reached Dr. Kent's size before their excitedfingers could get out the vials. They took some of the diminishingdrug to check their growth. Alan handed his father a black vial. 

"Yes, lad--"

"No! Wait, Father! That's the wrong drug. This other--"

Dr. Kent had opened the vial. His trembling hand spilled some of thepellets, but none of them noticed it. 

"Father, dear, this one. " Alan held an opalescent vial. "This one. "

Glora said abruptly, "Listen! Is that someone coming?"

They thought they heard approaching footsteps. A moment passed, but noone came into the room. 

"Hurry, " urged Glora. "It is nothing. We wait too long. "

"My boy--Alan, dear, after all these years--"

They were about to take the diminishing drug. From across the roomthere came a very queer sound. A scuttling, scratching, and the droneof wings. 

"Father, good God--look!"

Over by the wall, a giant fly was running across the floor. It wasgrowing larger!

At Dr. Kent's feet the pellets he had dropped were crushed by hisfootsteps and strewn on the floor. A fly had eaten of the sweetishpowder. 

The enlarging drug was loose!

A few drops of water lay mingled with the drug on the floor. And fromthe water nameless hideous things were rising!

CHAPTER IX

_The Doomed Realm_

To Alan the first few moments that followed the escape of the drugwere the most horrible of his life. The discovery struck old Dr. Kent, Glora and Alan into a numb, blank confusion. They stood transfixed, staring with cold terror. The fly was scurrying along the floor closeagainst the wall Already it was as large as Alan's hand. It ran intothe corner, hit the wall in its confused alarm, and turned back. Itswings were droning with an audible hum. It reared itself on its hairylegs, lifted and sailed across the room. 

As though drawn by a magnet Alan turned to watch it. It landed on thewall. Alan was aware of Dr. Kent rushing with trembling steps to ashelf where bottles stood. Glora was stricken into immobility, theblood draining from her face. 

The fly flew again. It passed directly over Alan. Its body, with amembrane sac of eggs, was now as large as his head; its wide-spreadtransparent wings were beating with a reverberating drone. 

Alan flung a bottle which was on the table beside him. It missed, crashed against the ceiling, came down with splintering glass andspilling liquid. Fumes spread chokingly over the room. 

The fly landed again on the floor. Larger now! Expanding with ahorribly rapid growth. Glora flung something--a little wooden rackwith a few empty test-tubes in it. The rack struck the monstrous fly, but did not hurt it. The fly stood with hairy legs braced under itsbulging body. Its multiple-lensed eyes were staring at the humans. Andwith its size must have come a sense of power, for it seemed to Alanthat the monstrous insect had an abnormal alertness as it stoodmeasuring its adversaries, gathering itself to attack them. 

Only a few seconds had passed. Confused thoughts swept Alan. This flywith its growth would soon fill this room. Burst it; burst upwardthrough a wrecked palace; soar out, and by the power of its sizealone, devastate this world. 

He heard himself shouting. "Father, get back! It's too large! I've gotto kill it!"

 * * * * *

Launch himself upon it? Wrestle with it in a hand to hand combat? Alanedged around the center table. He was bathed in cold sweat. This thingso horrible! It was too large! Half the length of his own body, now. In a moment it might be twice that! He was aware of Glora pulling athim; and his father rushing past him with a bottle of liquid, andshouting:

"Alan! Run! You and this girl, get out of here! The other room--"

Then Alan saw the things upon the floor! His foot crushed one with aslippery squash! Nameless, hideous, noisome things grown monstrous, risen from their lurking invisibility in the drops of water! Sodden, gray-black and green-slimed monsters of the deep; palpitating massesof pulp! One lay rocking, already as large as a football withstreamers of ooze hanging upon it, and a black-ink fluid squirting;others were rods of red jelly-pulp, already as large as lead pencils, quivering, twitching. Germs of disease, these ghastly things, enlarging from the invisibility of a drop of water!

The fly landed with a thud on the center table. The fumes of theshattered bottle of chemicals were choking Alan. He flung himselftoward the monster fly, but Glora held him. 

"No! Escape! The other room!"

Dr. Kent was stamping the things upon the floor; pouring acids uponthem. Some eluded him. The air in the room was unbreathable. .. . 

They reached the bedroom. The laboratory was a hideous chaos. Theywere aware of its outer door opening, disclosing the figure of Polterwho, undoubtedly, had been attracted by the noise. He shouted astartled oath. Alan heard it above the beating wings of the monsterfly. Things lurched at the opened door; Polter banged it upon them andrushed away, shouting the alarm through the palace. 

Dr. Kent was stammering, "Not the enlarging drug! Glora, child, theother! Hurry!"

Alan helped Glora with the opalescent vial. Things were lurchingtoward this room from the laboratory. Alan with averted face, chokedby the incoming fumes, slammed the door upon the gruesome turmoil. 

They took the diminishing drug. The bedroom expanded. The hideoussounds from the laboratory, and the whole palace now ringing with awild alarm, then faded into the blessed remoteness of distance abovethem. .. . 

 * * * * *

"I think it is this way, Alan. Off there--a doorway from my bedroom. Polter always kept it locked, but it leads into a corridor. We mustget out of here. A crack under the door--is that it, off there?" Dr. Kent pointed into the gloomy blur of distance. "We are horriblysmall--it's so far to run--and I've lost my sense of direction. "

The drug had ceased its action. The wooden floor of the room hadexpanded to a spread of cellular surface, ridged with broken, tube-like tunnels; pits and jagged cave-mouths. A knot-hole yawnedlike a crater a hundred feet away. 

"We are too small, " Gloria protested hurriedly. "The door is where yousay, Dr. Kent, but miles away. "

With the other drug, the room contracted. The floor-surface shrank andsmoothed a little. The door was distinguishable--a square panelseveral hundred feet in width and towering into the upper haze. Theblack line of the crack was visible along its bottom. 

They ran to it. The top of the crack was ten feet above their heads. They ran under, across the wide intervening darkness toward a glow oflight. Then they came from under the door into a corridor--and shrankagainst a cliff-wall as with a rush of wind and pounding tread theblurred shapes of a man's huge feet and legs rushed passed. The upperair was filled with rumbling shouts. 

"We must chance it!" exclaimed Dr. Kent. "Too dangerous, so small!Larger--and if they see us, fight our way out!"

In the turmoil of the doomed palace no one noticed them. They castaside all restraint. It was too dangerous to wait. The excessive dosethey took of the drug made the corridor shrink with dizzying speed. They rushed along its length. Alan hurled a little man aside who wasin their path. Already they were larger than the Polter people. 

 * * * * *

They squeezed out of a shrinking doorway. The dwindling island was aturmoil. Little figures were plunging from the palace. At the edge ofthe water, Alan, Glora and Dr. Kent stood for an instant lookingbehind them. The palace was rocking! Its roof heaved upward thensmashed and fell aside with the clatter of tumbling masonry. Themonstrous fly, its hideous face mashed and oozing, reared itself upand, with broken, torn wings tried to soar away. But it could not. Itslipped back. The drone and buzz of its fright sounded over the chaosof noise. Other things came lurching and twitching upward; slitheringout. .. . 

The expanding body of the fly was pushing the palace walls outward. Ina moment they collapsed and it emerged. .. . 

To Alan and his companions the scene was all shrinking into aminiature chaos of horror at their shoe-tops. A diminuendo of screamsmingled down there. Overhead were the stars, shining peacefullyremote. Nearby lay a rapidly narrowing channel of shining water. Atiny city was across it. Lights were moving. The panic had spread fromthe island to Orena. Beyond the tiny city, a range of mountainsshowed; a cliff, gleaming in the starlight; tunnel mouths. 

Suddenly against the stars off there, Alan saw the enlarging figure ofPolter, his hunched shape unmistakable. He was facing the other way. He lunged and scrambled into a yawning black hole in the mountains. Polter was escaping! None of these people except himself had thedrugs. He was escaping with the golden cage, out of this doomed atomicworld to our Earth above. 

Glora murmured, "There is our way out. Your way. And that is Poltergoing. I think he did not see us. So much is growing gigantic here. "She clung to Alan. "Dear one--"

Dr. Kent muttered, "We will wait a moment--wade across--or leap over, and follow him out. Babs with him--dear God I hope so! This doomedrealm!"

 * * * * *

Alan held Glora close. And suddenly he was laughing--a madness, halfhysteria. "Why, this, all this--why look, Glora, it's funny! Thislittle world all excited, an ant-hill, outraged! Look! There's ourgiant sailboat!"

Down near their feet the inch-long sailboat stood at its dock. Tinyhuman figures were rushing for it; others, floundering in the water, were trying to climb upon it. Dr. Kent had stepped from the shore afoot or two, and tiny, lashing white rollers rocked the boat, almostengulfing it. 

Alan's laugh rang out, "God! It's funny, isn't it? All those littlecreatures, so excited!"

"Steady, lad!" Dr. Kent touched him. "Don't let yourself laugh! Amoment now, then we'll wade across. Polter won't have much start onus. We mustn't get too close to him in size, but try and attack himunawares. We have got to get Babs away from him. "

The narrowing passage rose hardly to their knees. They stepped ashore, well to one side of the toy city. Their growth had almost stopped. Butsuddenly Alan realized that Glora was diminishing! She had taken theother drug. 

"Glora!"

"I must go back, Alan. This is my world, doomed perhaps, but I cannotforsake it now. I must give the enlarging drug to my father. Andothers who can rise and fight these monsters. "

"Glora!"

Dr. Kent said hurriedly, "She's right, Alan. There is a chance theycan save their city. For her to leave them would be dastardly. "

She cried, "You go on up, Alan. You have enough of the drugs. Leaveme, dear one--I am going back!"

"No!" he protested. "You must not! Or if you do, I'll come with you!"

She clung to him. He felt her body diminishing within his encirclingarms. His love for her swept him--this girl who had cajoled Polter, ortricked him, stolen several of the little vials from him heaven knowshow, and followed him up to the other world. This girl whom Alan nowknew he loved, was leaving him. Forever?

 * * * * *

As he stood there, with the miniature landscape at his feet in the wanstarlight, the panic-stricken tiny city, the island with its monstersrising to overwhelm this microscopic world--it seemed to Alan thenthat if he let her go it was the end for him of all life's promisedhappiness. 

"Alan, lad, come. " His father was pulling at him. So horrible achoice! Alan thought that I was back on that island. But Babs, aprisoner in the golden cage, was with Polter, plunging upward in size. And his father was beside him, pleading. 

"Alan--come--I can't get out alone. Nor save Babs. And the maddenedPolter, with the power of this drug, can conquer and enslave our Earthas he has enslaved Orena--just one little city of one tiny goldenatom! Believe me, lad, your duty lies above. "

Glora's head was now down at Alan's waist. He stooped and kissed herwhite forehead; his fingers, just for an instant, smoothed her glossyhair. 

"Good-by, Glora. "

"Dear one, good-by. "

She plunged away, and her tread as she dwindled mashed the forestbehind the city. Alan and his father ran for the cliff. They were toolarge to squeeze into the little hole. But in a moment they madethemselves smaller. They climbed as they dwindled; checked the drugaction and rushed into the tunnel-mouth. 

Alan stopped just for an instant to gaze out over the starlit scene. It was almost the same viewpoint from which he had his first sight ofGlora's world only an hour or two before. The distant island beyondthe city showed plainly with the shining water around it. Thevegetation there was growing! And there were dark, horribly formlessblobs lurching outward and rising with monstrous bulk against thebackground of the stars!

"Alan! Come, lad!"

With a prayer for Glora trembling on his lips, Alan plunged into thedim phosphorescent gloom of the tunnel. 

CHAPTER X

_The Escape_

To Babs and me the ride in the golden cage strapped to Polter's chestas he made his escape outward into largeness was an experience awesomeand frightening almost beyond conception. We heard the alarm in thepalace on the island. Polter rushed to Dr. Kent's laboratory door, looked in, and in a moment banged it shut. Babs and I saw very little. We knew only that something horrible had happened; we could see only ablur with formless things in the void beneath our bars; and there werethe choking fumes of chemicals surging at us. 

Polter rushed through the castle corridor. We heard rumbling distantshouts. 

"The drug is loose! The drug is loose! Monsters! Death for everyone!"

The room swayed with horrible dizzying lurches as Polter ran. We clungto the lattice bars, our legs and arms entwined. There were momentswhen Polter leaped, or suddenly stooped, and our reeling senses allbut faded. 

"Babs! Babs, darling, don't let go! Don't lose consciousness!"

If she should be limp, here in this lurching room, her body to beflung back and forth across its confines--that would be death in amoment. I feared I could not hold her. I managed to get an arm abouther waist. 

"Babs!"

"I'm--all right, George. I can stand it. We're--he is enlarging. "

"Yes. "

I saw water far beneath us, lashed into a turmoil of foam withPolter's wading steps. There was a brief swaying vista of a toy city;starlight overhead; a lurching swaying miniature of landscape asPolter ran for the towering cliffs. Then he climbed and scrambled intothe tunnel-mouth. Had he turned at that instant doubtless he wouldhave seen the rising distant figures of Glora, Alan and Dr. Kent. Buthe did not see them, evidently. Nor did we. 

Polter spoke only very occasionally to Babs. "Hold tightly!" It was arumbling voice from above us. He made no move to touch the cage, except that a few times the great blur of his hand came up to adjustits angle. 

 * * * * *

The lurching and jolting was less violent in the tunnel. Polter'sfrenzy to escape was subsiding into calmness. He traversed the tunnelwith a methodical swinging stride. We were aware of him climbing overthe noisome litter of the dead giant's body which blocked the tunnel'sfurther end. We heard his astonished exclamations. But evidently hedid not suspect what had happened, thinking only that the stupidmessenger had miscalculated his growth and been crushed. 

We emerged into a less dim area. Polter did not stop at the fallengiant. Nothing mattered now to him, quite evidently, save his ownrapid exit with Babs from this atomic realm. His movements seemedcalm, yet hurried. 

We realized now how different was an outward journey from the tripcoming in. This was all only an inch of golden quartz! The stagesupward were frequently only a matter of growth in size; the distancesin this vast desert realm of golden rock always were shrinking. Poltermany times stood almost motionless until the closing dwindling wallsmade him scramble upward into the greater space above. 

It may have been an hour, or less. Babs and I, from our smallerviewpoint, with the landscape so frequently blurred by distance andPolter's movements, seldom recognized where we were. But I realizedthat going out was far easier in every way than coming in. Easier todetermine the route, since usually the diminishing caverns and gulliesmade the upward step obvious. .. . We knew when Polter scrambled up theincline ramp. 

It seemed impossible for us to plan anything. Would Polter make theentire trip without a stop? It seemed so. We had no drugs. Our cagewas barred beyond possibility of our getting out. But even if we hadhad the drugs, or had our door been open, there was no escape. Anabyss of distance was always yawning beyond our lattice--the sheerprecipice of Polter's body from his chest to the ground. 

"Babs, we must make him stop. If he sits down to rest, you might gethim to take you out. I must reach his drugs. "

"Yes. I'll try it, George. "

 * * * * *

Polter was momentarily standing motionless as though gazing aroundhim, judging what to do next. His size seemed stationary. Beyond ourbars we could see the distant circular walls as though this were somegiant crater-pit in which Polter was standing. Then I thought Irecognized it--the round, nearly vertical pit into which Alan hadplunged his hand and arm. Above us then was a gully, blind at one end. And above that, the outer surface, the summit of the fragment ofgolden quartz. 

"Babs! I know where we are! If he takes you out, keep his attention. I'll try and get one of his black vials. Make him hold you near theground. If I see you there, in position where you can jump, I'llstartle him. Oh, Babs, dear, it's desperately dangerous but I can'tthink of anything else. Jump! Get away from here. I'll keep hisattention on me. Then I'll join you if I can--with the drug. "

Polter was moving. We had no time to say more. 

"Yes! Yes, I'll try it, George. " For just an instant she clung to mewith her soft arms about my neck. Our love was sweeping us in thisdesperate moment, and it seemed that above us was a remote Earth worldholding the promise of all our dreams. Or were we star-crossed, doomedlike the realm of the atom? Was this swift embrace now marking the endof everything for us?

Babs called, "Dr. Polter?"

We could feel his movements stopping. 

"Yes? You are all right, Babs?"

She laughed--a ripple of silvery laughter--but there was tragic fearin her eyes as she held her gaze on me. "Yes, Dr. Polter, butbreathless. Almost dead, but not quite. What happened? I want to comeout and talk to you. "

"Not now, little bird. "

"But I want to. " To me it was a miracle that she could call so lightlyand hold that note of lugubrious laughter in her voice. "I am hungry. Don't you think of that? And frightened. Take me out. "

 * * * * *

He was sitting down! "You remind me that I am tired, Babs. And hungry, also. I haf a little food. You shall come out for just a short time. "

"Thank you. Take me carefully. "

Our tilted cage was near the ground as he seated himself. But still itwas too far for me to jump. 

I murmured, "Babs--"

"Wait, George! I'll fix that. You hide! If he looks in he'll see you, where you are now!"

I scrambled back to my hiding place. Polter's huge fingers werefumbling at our bars. The little door sprang open. 

"Come, Babs. "

He held the cupped bowl of his palm to the doorway. "Come out. "

"No!" she called. "It is too far down!"

"Come. That iss foolish. "

"No! I'm afraid. Put the cage on the ground. "

"Babs!" His finger and thumb came reaching in to seize her, but sheavoided them. 

"Dr. Polter! Don't! You'll crush me!"

"Then come out on my hand. "

He seemed annoyed. I had scrambled back to the doorway; I knew hecould not see me so long as the cage remained strapped to his shirtfront. 

I whispered, "I can make it, Babs!"

Polter was apparently on one elbow, half turned on his side. From ourcage, the sloping gleaming white surface of his stiff glossyshirt-bosom went down a steep incline. His belt was down there, andthe outward bulging curve of his lap--a spreading surface where Icould land like a scuttling insect, unobserved, if only Babs couldhold his attention. 

I whispered vehemently. "Try it! Go out! Leave me! Keep talking tohim!"

She called instantly, "Very well, then. Bring your hand! Closer!Carefully! It seems so high up here!"

 * * * * *

She swung herself to his palm, and flung her arms about the greatpillar of his upcrooked finger. The bowl of his hand moved slowlyaway. I heard her calling voice, and his overhead rumble. 

I chanced it! I could not determine the exact position, or which wayhe was looking. 

Again I heard Bab's voice. "Careful, Dr. Polter. Don't let me fall!"

"Yes, little bird. "

I let myself down from the tilted doorway, hung by my hands anddropped. I struck the ramp-like yielding surface of his shirt-bosom. Islid, tumbling, scrambling, and landed softly in the huge folds of histrouser fabric. I was unhurt. The width of his belt, high as my body, was near me. I shrank against it; I found I could cling to its upperedge. 

My hold came just in time. He shifted, and sat up. I was lifted with aswoop of movement. When it steadied I saw above me the top of hisknee. His left leg was crooked, the foot drawn close to him. Babs wasperched up there on the knee summit. His right leg was outstretched. Iwas at the right side of his belt. I could dart off along that curvingexpanse of his leg and leap to the ground. If he would hold thisposition! One of the pouches of his belt was near me. The vial in itwas black. The enlarging drug! I moved toward it. 

But Babs was too high to jump from that summit of his crooked knee! Ithink she saw me at his belt. I heard her voice. 

"I cannot eat up here. It is too high. Oh, please be careful how youmove! I am so dizzy, so frightened! You move with such great jerks!"

He had what seemed a huge surface of bread and meat. He was breakingo£f crumbs to put before her. I reached the pouch of his belt. Thevial was as long as my body. I tugged to try and lift it out. 

 * * * * *

All the giant contours of Polter's body shifted as he cautiouslymoved. I clung. I saw that Babs was being held gently between histhumb and forefinger. He lowered her to the ground, and she stoodbeside the bread and meat he had placed there. 

And she had the courage to laugh! "Why this--this is an enormoussandwich! You will have to break it. "

He was leaning over her, half turned on his left side. The vial camefree. I shoved it; but I could not control its weight. I pusheddesperately. It slid over the round brink of his right hip, and fellbehind him. I heard the tinkling thud of it down on the rocks. 

There was no alarm. I could not chance leaping from his hip. Iscurried along the convex top of his outstretched leg, and beyond hisknee I jumped. 

I landed safely. I could see the black vial back across the brokenrock surface, with the bulge of Polter's hip above it. I ran back andreached the vial; tugged at its huge stopper. The cork began to yieldunder my panting, desperate efforts. In a moment I would have a pelletof the enlarging drug; make away with it; startle Polter so that Babsmight dart off and escape. 

The huge stopper of the vial was larger than my head. It came suddenlyout. I flung it away, plunged in my hand, and seized an enormous roundpellet. 

Then abruptly the alarm came, and I had not caused it! Polter rippedout a startled, rumbling curse and sat upright. Under the curve of hisleg, I saw that Babs had been momentarily neglected. She was running. 

Across the boulder-strewn plain, two tiny men had appeared. Polter hadseen them. 

They were the enlarging figures of Dr. Kent and Alan!

CHAPTER XI

_The Combat of Size_

The astounded Polter was taken wholly by surprise. He could have hadno idea that anyone was following him. He thought he was alone withthe tiny Babs in this rock-strewn metal desert. What he saw as hescrambled to his feet were four insect-size humans, two of them at adistance, and two within reach of him, and all of them scampering indifferent directions. The ground was littered with crags and boulders;was ridged and pitted, pock-marked, with tiny crater-holes and caves. The four scuttling figures almost instantly had disappeared from hissight. 

I did not see where Babs went. I turned from the black vial ofPolter's enlarging drug, and with the huge pellet under my arm I ranleaping over the rough ground and flung myself into a gully. I layprone, flattened against a rock. In the murky distance of a pseudo-skyoverhead, the monstrous head and shoulders of Polter were visible. Icould see down to just below his waist. The empty cage with its doorflapping open hung against his shirt-front. He had stooped to try andrecover Babs. And instinctively his hands went to his belt to seizehis enlarging drug. 

They were fumbling there now. He hauled out an opalescent vial of thediminishing element. But his black vial was gone. His frown spreadinto fear as he searched for it in the other compartments of his belt. I had thought that he had more than one black vial, but now it seemednot. His huge face was swept with the panic of terror. He flung a wildglance around him. 

Through the open end of my gully I saw in the distance, miles away, the enlarging figure of Alan rising up. Then it ducked back of adistant rocky peak. Polter undoubtedly saw it. He was fumbling withhis opalescent vial, and with confused panic upon him he made themistake of taking the diminishing drug. And instantly seemed to regretit. His curse rumbled above me. His glance went down to the rocks athis feet, and there he saw lying his black vial with its stopper out. His body already was beginning to dwindle. He stooped, seized thevial, and took the enlarging drug. The shock of it made him stagger;momentarily he disappeared from my line of vision but I could hear hispanting breath and the unsteady pound of his footsteps. 

 * * * * *

I still held that huge round ball of the drug. I seized a loose stoneand frantically knocked off a chunk--heaven knows how much, I do not. I shoved it into my mouth, chewed and hastily swallowed it. And withthe lurching, swaying, shrinking gully closing in upon me, I ran toget out of its distant open end. 

I was heading toward where Alan and his father were lurking. I camefrom the gully into the open, just as the walls closed behind me. Thewhole scene was a dizzying blurred sway of contracting movement. I sawthat I was in a circular valley now some five miles in diameter, withits jagged enclosing walls rising sheerly perpendicular out of sightin the haze overhead. 

Polter had staggered backward. I saw him a mile or so away. His backat that instant was turned to me. He was now no more than three orfour times my own height. He scrambled against the valley cliff-wallas though trying to find a foothold to climb up it. He went a littleway, but fell back. 

Near me, Alan and old Dr. Kent suddenly appeared. I was larger. Theyflung themselves at my knees. Alan gasped:

"You, George! You got Babs?"

"Yes--Babs is around somewhere! Stay down here! Don't lose her insize! Stay small! Search and--"

"But George--"

"I'll tackle Polter. I've taken--God, I don't know how much I've takenof the drug!"

They were shrinking down by my boot-tops. Alan shouted suddenly, "There's Babs! Thank God, there's Babs!"

She was too small; I could not see her, nor even hear her, though shemust have been calling to them. Alan again screamed up at me with hislittle voice:

"She's here, George! You--go on and get Polter! I can't overtake youyou--haven't enough of the drug!" His tiny voice was fading away. "Goon and get him, George! This time--get him--"

 * * * * *

I swung with a staggering step around to face the open valley. It wasshrunken now to barely half a mile of width. Its smooth walls rosesome two or three thousand feet to an upper circular horizon withmurky distance overhead. Polter stood across from me. He had tried toclimb out but could not. He saw me and came lurching. We were aquarter of a mile from each other. I ran forward through a shiftingscene of shrinking rock walls and crawling, contracting ground. Quarter of a mile? It seemed hardly more than a score of runningstrides before Polter loomed close ahead of me. He was still nearlytwice my size. I stooped, seized a loose boulder, and flung it. Imissed his face, but, as his hand went up carrying a baredknife-blade, by fortunate chance the stone struck his wrist. The knifedropped to the rocks. He stooped to recover it, but I was upon him. AsI felt his huge arms go around me, half lifting me, my foot struck theknife. But in an instant it was swept down into smallness beneath usas we expanded above it. 

Both of us were unarmed in this combat of size. I was a half-grownyouth in Polter's first grip upon me. I heard his panting words, grimly triumphant:

"This--George Randolph, I haf been--waiting for so many many years!The hunchback--takes his revenge--now--"

He lifted me. His great arms were horribly powerful, but I could feelthem dwindling. I was enlarging faster. Just a few moments--if I couldlast a few moments!. .. My feet were off the ground, my chest closepressed against the little golden cage between us. He had a handshoving back my head; his fingers sought my throat. I wound my legsaround him, and then he tried to throw me down and fall upon me. Butwe had twisted and my back was to the cliff. The rocks were shoving atus, insistently pushing with almost a living movement. Polterstaggered with me. His grip on my throat tightened, shutting off mybreath. My senses whirled. His grim sardonic face over me was blurredto my sight. I tore futilely at my throat to break his choking grip. All the world was a roaring chaos to my fading senses. Then in theblur I saw horror sweep his expression. His fingers involuntarilyloosened. I got a breath of blessed air, gasping, and my sightcleared. 

Walls were closing around us! We were in a pit barely ten feet wide, with the top a few feet above Polter's head. The nearer wall shoved usagain. Our bodies almost filled the shrinking pit! Polter lurched andcast me off. I half fell, striking my shoulder against the oppositewall, and I saw Polter leap at the dwindling brink and scramble out. 

I was nearly wedged. As I rose, the top of the pit only reached mywaist. Polter had fallen on the upper ground, and was on hands andknees. Instead of standing up, he lurched at me; tried to shove meback. But I was out. I clutched at him. We were almost of a size now. We rolled on the ground, locked together; rolled to the brink of thepit and over it, as it shrank to a little round hole unnoticed beneathour threshing bodies!

 * * * * *

At the side of the circular valley Alan and Dr. Kent crouched with thesmaller figure of Babs between them. They saw Polter and me as twoswaying gigantic forms locked in a death struggle, towering againstthe sky. Tremendous expanded bodies! They saw us come to grips; sawthe great hunched Polter bend me backward, choking me. 

Our bodies lurched. Our huge legs with a single step brought us to thecenter of the valley. It was a shrinking valley to Alan, Babs and Dr. Kent, for they too, were enlarging. But the fighting giant figureswere growing faster. In only a moment their shoulders were up there inthe sky, pressing against the narrowing cliff-walls. 

Alan gasped. "But George will be crushed! Look at him!"

Horror swept them as they crouched watching. The enormous pillars ofPolter's legs towered straight up from near at hand. Alan was aware ofhimself screaming:

"George--out! You're too large! Too large for in here!"

As though his microscopic voice could reach me--my head hundred offeet above him. But he screamed it again. This was all in a fewhorrible moments, though it seemed to the three watchers an eternity. Alan was helpless to aid me; they had taken all of the enlarging drugthey had. 

Then they saw Polter cast me off. I lurched and struck, with myshoulders wedged against the cliff directly over where they crouched. The overhead sky was darkened as Polter scrambled upward. 

Alan was still screaming futilely, "George--up! Get out!"

Babs huddled with white, horrified face, staring. Then I went outafter Polter. My disappearing legs were great dark blurs in the sky. Alan saw the valley now contracted to a thousand feet of width, withits cliffs equally as high. Then everything was smaller. .. . The skyoverhead went dark again; from cliff to cliff a segment of our rollingbodies momentarily spanned the opening. 

 * * * * *

And presently Alan realized that the valley had narrowed to a pit. Hestood up. "Hurry! Now we can get out after them. Up there!"

The opening above was empty. Polter and I were fighting some distanceaway. .. . 

Dr. Kent was soon large enough to scramble out of the pit. Alan handedthe little Babs up to him and followed. Alan saw that they were now ina long gully, blind at one end with a five hundred-foot perpendicularcliff. Against the wall, the titanic form of Polter stood at bay. AndI was fronting him. The summit of the cliff was lower than our waists. Triumph swept Alan; he saw that I was the larger! As Polter bored intome my backward step crossed the full width of the gully. Alan shouted:

"Down! Babs--Father!"

They had barely time to flatten themselves in a narrow crevice betweenupstanding rocks before my foot crashed down. For an instant the soleof my boot formed a flat black ceiling as it trod and spanned therocks. Then it lifted; was gone with a blurred swoop. They saw thewhite blur of my hand come down and snatch a tremendous boulder, raising it with a great sweep of movement into the sky. They saw mecrash it against Polter; but it only struck his shoulder. He roaredwith anger. The whole sky was roaring and rumbling with our shouts andour panting breathing, and the ground was clattering, pounding withour giant tread. Huge loose boulders were tumbled in an avalancheeverywhere. 

Again it seemed to Alan that our lurching, heedlessly surging bodiesmust be crushed within these contracting walls. Only our locked, intertwined legs were visible; our bodies were lost in the sky. Thenit seemed to Alan that I had heaved Polter upward. And followed him. We disappeared. There was a distant overhead rumble, and the murkysky, with vague patches of far-distant illumination in it, becameempty of movement. .. . 

The walls presently were again closing upon Alan and his companions. They ran out of the open end of the shrinking little gully and came toa new upward vista. .. . 

 * * * * *

I found myself a full head and shoulders taller than Polter. And hewas tiring, panting heavily. His face was cut and bleeding from theblows of my fists. The rock I heaved struck his shoulder. He roared, head down, and bored into me. He was heavier than I. His weight flungme back. My foot slid on the loose stones of the gully floor. I didnot know that Babs, Alan and their father were huddled under thosestones!

My back struck the opposite wall. Polter's upflung knee caught me inthe stomach, all but knocking the breath from me. He was desperate, oblivious to the closing walls. And as he flung his arms with a gripabout my neck, hanging, trying to bear me down, I saw in his blazingdark eyes what seemed the light of suicide. I think that then, with asudden frenzied madness he realized that he was beaten. And tried topull us to the ground and let the walls crush us. 

I summoned all my remaining strength and heaved us forward. I brokehis hold. His body was jammed back against a lowering wall. Its topseemed almost at our knees. I shoved frantically. He fell backward andI jumped after him. 

We were on a great rocky plateau. But it was shrinking, crawling intoitself. Spots of light were in the murk overhead; there seemed adistant circular horizon of emptiness around us. 

Polter was lying in a heap. But it was trickery, for as I incautiouslybent over him his hand crashed a rock against my head. I reeled, withall the world turning black, but did not fall. There was a horribleinstant when my senses were going, but I fought to hold them. Bloodfrom a wound on my forehead was streaming in my eyes. I wasstaggering. Then I realized I was grimly tossing my head, shaking theblood away; and little by little my sight came back. 

Polter was on his feet, rushing me. His fist came with an upward swingat my chin, but I ducked my head aside at the last moment. 

And suddenly, fighting up there in the open, my mind envisaged howgigantic we were! This was a great upland plateau, rounded with milesof distance and a shadowy, dimly radiant abyss beyond its circularhorizon. And I was a thousand feet or more tall! A titan, looming herein the sky!. .. 

 * * * * *

My fist quite unexpectedly caught Polter's jaw. His simultaneous swingwent wild, though I leaped backward from it. He staggered, and hisarms dropped to his sides. I was crouched forward, guarded, watchinghim while I gasped for breath. There was the briefest of instants whenan expression of vague surprise swept his face. But I had not knockedhim out. 

It was death overtaking him. His heart was yielding, overtaxed fromthis strain; and I think there at the last, he realized it. The blooddrained suddenly from his face and lips, leaving them livid. I sawfear, then a wild horror in his eyes. He stood swaying. Then his kneesgave way and he toppled. He fell from his height in the air where Istood gazing at him--fell forward on his face, his titanic lengthspread all across the top of this rocky landscape!

For a moment I did not move. My head was reeling, my ears roaring. Blood streamed into my eyes. I wiped it away with a torn sleeve andstood panting, gazing at the glowing distance around me. 

I was a titan, standing there. The body of Polter was shrinking at myfeet. The circular abyss of emptiness came nearer as this rockyeminence contracted. 

Suddenly my attention went to the sky overhead. Vague distant lightswere there. Then a broad flat blur seemed spread over me. Lighteverywhere was growing. Beyond the nearby brink of the abyss was awhite reflected radiance from beneath. Abruptly I realized there was alevel, flat white plain running far off there in the distance. 

Overhead a radiance contracted into a spot of light. A shape in thesky moved! I heard a far-away rumble--a human voice!

The body of Polter lay at my feet. It was hardly the length of myforearm I stood, a titan. 

And then, with a shock of realization, I saw how tiny I was! This wasthe broken top of that fragment of golden quartz the size of a walnut!I was standing there, under the lens of the giant microscope inPolter's dome-room laboratory, with half a dozen astounded Quebecpolice officials peering down at me!

CHAPTER XII

_Mysterious Little Golden Rock_

I need not detail the aftermath of our emergence from the atom. Dr. Kent and Babs followed me out within a few moments. But Alan was notwith them! He had seen Polter fall. His father and Babs were safe. Thesacrifice he had made in leaving Glora was no longer needed. 

Down there on the rocky plateau, Dr. Kent suddenly realized that Alanwas dwindling. 

"Father, I must! Don't you understand? Glora's world is menaced. Ican't leave her like this. My duty to you and Babs is ended. I did mybest, Dad--you two are safe now. "

"Alan! My boy!"

He was already down at Dr. Kent's waist, Bab's size. He held up hishand. "Dad, good-by. " His rugged, youthful face was flushed, his voicechoked. "You--you've been a mighty good father to me. Always. "

Babs flung her arms about him. "Alan, don't!"

"But I must. " He smiled whimsically as he kissed her. "You wouldn'twant to leave George, would you? Never see him again? I'm not askingyou to do that, am I?"

"But, Alan--"

"You've been a great little pal, Babs. I'll never forget it. "

"Alan! You talk as though you were never coming back!"

"Do I? But of course I'm coming back!" He cast her off. "Babs, listen. Father's upset. That's natural. You tell him not to worry. I'll becareful, and do what I can to save that little city. I must find Gloraand--"

Babs was suddenly trembling with eagerness for him. "Yes! Of courseyou must, Alan!"

"Find her and bring her out here! I'll do it! Don't you worry. " He wasdwindling fast. Dr. Kent had collapsed to a rock, staring down withhorror-stricken eyes. Alan called up to Babs:

"Listen! Have George watch the chunk of gold-quartz. Have it guardedand watched day and night. Handle it carefully, Babs!"

"Yes! Yes! How long will you be gone, Alan?"

"Heavens--how do I know? But I'll come back, don't you worry. Maybe inonly a day or two of your time. "

"Right! Good-by, Alan!"

"Good-by, " his tiny voice echoed up. "Good-by, Babs--Father!"

Babs could see his miniature face smiling up at her. She smiled backand waved her arm as he vanished into the pebbles at her feet. 

The eyes of youth! They look ahead; they see all things so easilypossible! But old Dr. Kent was sobbing. 

 * * * * *

It has broken Dr. Kent. A month now has passed. He seldom mentionsAlan to Babs and me. But when he does, he tries to smile and say thatAlan soon will return. He has been very ill this last week, though heis better now. He did not tell us that he was working to compoundanother supply of the drugs, but we knew it very well. 

And his emotion, the strain of it, made him break. He was in bed aweek. We are living in New York, quite near the Museum of the AmericanSociety for Scientific Research. In a room of the biologicaldepartment there, the precious fragment of golden quartz lies guarded. A microscope is over it, and there is never a moment of the day ornight without an alert, keen-eyed watcher peering down. 

But nothing has appeared. Neither friend nor foe--nothing. I cannotsay so to Babs, but often I fear that Dr. Kent will suddenly die, andthe secret of his drugs die with him. I hinted once that I would makea trip into the atom if he would let me, but it excited him so greatlyI had to laugh it off with the assurance that of course Alan will soonreturn safely to us. Dr. Kent is an old man now, unnaturally old, with, it seems, the full weight of eighty years pressing upon him. Hecannot stand this emotion. I think he is despairingly summoningstrength to work upon his drugs, fearful that he will not be equal toit. Yet more fearful to disclose the secret and unloose so diabolicala power. 

There are nights when with Dr. Kent asleep, Babs and I slip away andgo to the Museum. We dismiss the guard for a time, and in that privateroom we sit hand in hand by the microscope to watch. The fragment ofgolden quartz lies on its clean white slab with a brilliant light uponit. 

Mysterious little golden rock! What secrets are there, down beyond thevanishing point in the realm of the infinitely small! Our humanlongings go to Alan and to Glora. 

But sometimes we are swept by the greater viewpoint. Awed by themysteries of nature, we realize how very small and unimportant we arein the vast scheme of things. We envisage the infinite reaches ofastronomical space overhead. Realms of largeness unfathomable. And atour feet, everywhere, are myriad entrances into the infinitely small. With ourselves in between--with our fatuous human consciousness thatwe are of some importance to it all!

Truly there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of inour philosophy!

INVISIBLE EYES

An invisible eye that can see in the dark and detect the light of aship two miles away on a black foggy night was introduced to newspapermen recently by its inventor, John Baird of television fame. He callsthe invention "Noctovisor. "

It looks like a large camera and can be mounted on a ship or airplane. It was announced that it would soon be tried on trans-Atlantic liners. For the demonstration it was mounted in the garden of Baird's cottage, overlooking the twinkling lights of Dorking. In the dark beyond thoselights an automobile headlight three miles away pointed toward thecottage. 

At a signal from the inventor a sheet of ebonite, as a substitute fora supposed fog, two miles thick, was placed in front of the headlight. Not a glimmer was then visible to the human eye, but it appeared onthe noctovisor screen as a bright red disc. It was supposed to haveparticular value in permitting a navigator in a fog to tell the exactdirection of a beacon and to estimate roughly its distance. 

The device is a combination of camera lens, television transmitter andtelevision receiver. The lens throws a distant image on the exploringdisc of the transmitter, through which it acts on a photo-electriccell sensitive to invisible infra-red rays. The receiver amplifies itfor the observer. 

MOON ROCKETS

Seventeen years of experimenting on a rocket designed by Prof. AlbertH. Goddard of Clark University, to shriek its way from the earth tothe moon, came to a glorious climax recently in an isolated andclosely guarded section of Worcester when the rocket tore its flamingway through the air for a quarter-mile with a roar heard for adistance of two miles. 

Prof. Goddard said the rocket was shot out of its cradle, careenedthrough the air a mass of flame, and landed about where it wasdirected to land, beyond the Auburn town line. Test of a newpropellant was the object of his demonstration, Prof. Goddard said. 

Two or three times a week a small rocket goes up into the air a shortdistance, not enough to attract great attention. But the latest was anine-foot rocket, shot out of a forty-foot tower. Near the tower is asafety post built of stone, with slits for peepholes. The experimentalparty stepped into the safety zone when the rocket was started. 

The forty-foot tower is built much like an oil well derrick. Inside itare two steel rails to fill grooves in the rocket. These guide therocket much as rifling in a gun barrel guides a bullet. Prof. Goddard, when teaching at Princeton in 1912, evolved the idea of shooting arocket to the moon by means of successive charges of explosive much asthe new German rocket motor racers are powered. In this most recentexperiment he used a new powder mixture. 

Prof. Goddard issued a statement after the demonstration, which said:

"My test was one of a series of experiments with rockets using anentirely new propellant. There was no attempt to reach the moon oranything of such a spectacular nature. The rocket is normally noisy, possibly enough to attract considerable attention. The test wasthoroughly satisfactory, nothing exploded in the air, and there was nodamage except possibly that incidental to landing. "

Terrors Unseen

_By Harl Vincent_

[Illustration: _"Eddie!" Lisa screamed suddenly. "Look out!"_]

[Sidenote: One after another the invisible robots escape Shelton'scontrol--and their trail leads straight to the gangster chiefCadorna. ]

Something about the lonely figure of the girl caused Edward Vail tobring his car to a sudden stop at the side of the road. When first hehad glimpsed her off there on that narrow strip of rock-bound coast hewas mildly surprised, for it was a desolate spot and seldom frequentedby bathers so late in the season. Now he was aroused to startledattention by the unnatural posture of the slender body that had justbeen erect and outlined sharply against the graying September sky. Heswitched off the ignition and sprang to the ground. 

Bent backward and twisted into the attitude of a contortionist, thelittle figure in the crimson bathing suit was a thing at which tomarvel. No human being could maintain that position without falling, yet the girl did not fall to the jagged stones that lay beneath her. She was rigid, straining. Then suddenly her arm waved wildly and shescreamed, a wild gasping cry that died in her throat on a note ofdespairing terror. It seemed that she struggled furiously with anunseen power for one horrible instant. Then the tortured body lurchedviolently and collapsed in a pitiful quivering heap among the stones. 

Eddie Vail was running now, miraculously picking his way over thetreacherous footing. The girl had fainted, no doubt of that, andsomething was seriously wrong with her. 

A mysterious mechanical something whizzed past; something that buzzedlike a thousand hornets and slithered over the rocks in a series ofmetallic clanks. Then it was gone--or so it seemed in the confusion ofEddie's mind; but he had seen nothing. Probably a fantasy of hisoverworked brain, or only the surf breaking against the sea wall. Heturned his attention to the girl. 

 * * * * *

She was moaning and tossing her head, returning painfully toconsciousness. He straightened her limbs and placed his folded coatunder the restless head, noting with alarm that vicious red weltsmarred the whiteness of her arms and shoulders. It was as if she hadbeen beaten cruelly; those marks could never have resulted from herfall. Poor kid. Subject to fits of some sort, he presumed. She was agood looker, too, and no mistake. He smoothed back the rumpled mass ofgolden hair and studied her features. They were vaguely familiar. 

Then she opened her eyes. Stark terror looked out from theirultra-marine depths, and her lips quivered as if she were about tocry. He raised her to a more comfortable position and supported herwith an encircling arm. She did cry a little, like a frightened child. Then, with startling abruptness, she sprang to her feet. 

"Where is it?" she demanded. 

"Where's what?" Eddie was on his feet, peering in all directions. Heremembered the queer sounds he had heard or imagined. 

"I--I don't know. " The girl passed a trembling hand before her eyes asif to wipe away some horrifying vision. "Perhaps it's my imagination, but I felt--it was just as real--one of father's iron monsters. Beating me; bending me. I'd have snapped in a moment. But nothing wasthere. I--I'm afraid. .. . "

Eddie caught her as she swayed on her feet. "There now, " he saidsoothingly, "you're all right, Miss Shelton. It's gone now, whateverit was. " Iron monsters! In a flash it had come to him that this girlhe held in his arms was Lina Shelton, daughter of the robot wizard. Nowonder she was afflicted with hallucinations! But those bruises werereal, as was the forcible twisting of her lithe young body. And he_had_ heard something. 

 * * * * *

"You know me?" The girl was calmer now and faced him with a surprisedlook. 

"Yes, Miss Shelton. At least I recognize you from the pictures. Society page, you know. And I'm Edward Vail--Eddie for short--onvacation and at your service. "

The girl smiled wanly. "You know of father's break with UniversalElectric? Of his private experiments?"

"I heard of the scrap and of how he walked out on the outfit, butnothing further. " Eddie thought grimly of how nearly he had come tolosing his own job when David Shelton broke relations with hisemployers. He had been too enthusiastic in support of some of theolder man's claims. 

"It's been terrible, " the girl whispered. She clung nervously to hisarm as he picked the way back to the road. "The loneliness, and all. No servants will stay out here now, and father spends all of his timein the laboratory. Then--this fear of the mechanical men--they hauntme. I--I guess they've got me a little goofy. "

Eddie laughed reassuringly. "Perhaps, " he suggested, "you will let mehelp you. Your father, I believe, will remember me, and I'll be veryglad to--"

"No, no!" The girl seemed frightened at the thought. "I'm sure hewouldn't welcome you. He's changed greatly of late and is suspiciousof everyone, even keeping things from me. But it's awfully nice of youto offer your assistance, and you've been a perfect peach to take careof me this way. I--I'd better go now. "

They had reached the road and Eddie looked uncertainly at hisroadster. He hated to think of leaving the girl in this lonely spot. She was obviously in a state of extreme nervous tension and, to him, seemed pathetically helpless, and afraid. 

"That the house?" he asked, pointing in the direction of the gloomyold mansion whose dilapidated gables were barely visible over the treetops. 

"Yes. " The girl shivered and drew closer to him. 

The ensuing silence was broken by the slam of a door. His car! Eddielooked toward it in amazement; he was hearing things again. Thesprings sagged on the driver's side as under the weight of a veryheavy occupant, but the seat was empty. Then came the whine of thestarter and the motor purred into life. The gears clashed sickeninglyand the car was jerked into the road with a violence that should havestripped the differential. He pulled the girl aside just as it roaredpast and disappeared around the bend in a cloud of dust. The sound ofthe exhaust died away rapidly and left them staring into each other'seyes in awed silence. 

 * * * * *

David Shelton was prowling around in the shrubbery when theyapproached the house--a furtive, unkempt creature whom Eddie wouldhardly have recognized. He straightened up and peered at hisdaughter's companion with obvious disapproval. 

"Lina, " he said severely, "I've told you we want no visitors. "

"Yes, Dad, I know, but Mr. Vail's car was stolen out in front andthere is no way for him to go on. We must look after him. "

"His car--stolen? Who stole it?" David Shelton drew close and glaredsuspiciously at his unwelcome visitor. 

"One of your monsters, I think, " she replied shakily, "though we couldsee nothing. And the same thing attacked me and beat me. Look at mybruises!"

Shelton was examining the marks, and his fingers trembled as hetouched his daughter's shoulder. He looked piteously into her eyes. "Are you sure, Lina? Sure? Did you see it?"

"No, no. But I felt and heard--the iron arms and the clamps and thebuzzing. Oh, it was horrible!" The girl's voice rose hysterically. 

"Oh, Lord! What have I done?" groaned Shelton. "It's true, then. Lina, listen: I've succeeded in making them invisible, and one got away thismorning. But I thought--I thought--" He looked at Eddie, rememberinghis presence suddenly. "But I'm talking too much. It seems to me Iremember having seen you before, young man. "

"You have, sir, " Eddie stated. "In the research laboratory ofUniversal Electric. I work with Borden. "

"They've sent you to find me?" Shelton stiffened perceptibly. 

"Indeed, not, sir. I'm on vacation and was merely passing by when Isaw your daughter in danger, a danger I still do not understand. "

"Yes, and he helped me to the road, " Lina interposed, "and then losthis car at the hands of--"

"Silence!" the father thundered. But his eyes fell before the firethat instantly flashed in those of the girl. 

"Now, you listen to me!" she returned angrily, "I've stayed on herewith you until I'm nearly crazy with your everlasting puttering andexperimenting--hearing your uncanny machines walking around in themiddle of the night--seeing impossible sights--then, this thing Icouldn't see but could feel. And you've gotten into such a state thatyou'll go crazy yourself, if you continue. Something's got to be done, I tell you. I can't stand it!"

 * * * * *

Her voice broke on a choked sob. 

"But Lina--"

"Don't but me, Father. I mean it. Mr. Vail discovered your hideoutquite by accident and he's been very nice to me. I tell you he meansno harm and I want him to stay. If you're not decent to him, if yousend him away, I swear I'll go too. I will--I will!"

Shelton's eyes misted and something of the hardness left hisexpression. A look of haunting fear took its place and he staredpleadingly at Eddie. 

"Br-r! I'm cold!" Lina exclaimed irrelevantly. "And--and I believe I'mgoing to cry. " She turned away and raced for the shelter of the gloomyold house without another word. 

Eddie turned inquiring eyes on his unwilling host. 

"Just like her mother before her, " Shelton muttered softly. Then hefaced the younger man squarely and his shoulders straightened. "Mr. Vail, " he said sheepishly, "I've been a fool and I ask your pardon. But Lina doesn't know. There's something tremendous behind all this, something that's gotten beyond me. I'll send her away for her ownsafety, but I must stay on. If--if only there was someone I couldtrust--"

"You can trust me, sir, " Eddie stated simply. 

The older man paced the ground nervously, and Eddie could see that hewas under a most severe mental strain. Several times he halted in histracks and peered anxiously at his guest. Then he seemed to make asudden decision. 

"Vail, " he said sharply, "I need help badly. I want you to stay, ifyou will. You swear you'll not reveal what I am about to show you?"

"I swear it, sir. "

"You'll not report to Universal?"

"Never. "

 * * * * *

They surveyed each other appraisingly. Eddie was mystified by thehappenings of the day and was curious to learn more concerning thesemythical invisible creations. It was inconceivable that the scientisthad spoken truly of his accomplishment. Yet, he had done somemarvelous things with Universal and, maybe--well, anyway, there wasthe girl. 

"Come with me, " Shelton was saying: "I believe you're a squareshooter, Vail. " He was leading the way along the gravel path at theside of the house. Before them loomed the squat brick building thatwas the laboratory. 

The door crashed open before Shelton's hand had reached the knob, andone of those buzzing, unseen, monstrosities rushed clanking by, knocking the scientist from his feet in its passage. Ponderous, speeding footsteps crunched the gravel of the path, and then, with awild thrashing of the underbrush alongside, the thing was gone. 

Eddie bent over the prostrate man and saw that he was unconscious. Athin trickle of blood ran from a cut in the side of his head. 

"Lina! Lina!" called Eddie frantically. For the first time in his lifehe was genuinely frightened. 

 * * * * *

He half carried, half dragged the limp body through the door of thelaboratory and propped it in a chair. It required but a moment for himto see that Shelton's injury was inconsequential. He had only beenstunned and already showed signs of recovering. 

"What is it, Mr. Vail? What's happened?" came the voice of LinaShelton breathlessly. She was framed in the doorway, dressed now andpanting from her exertions in responding to his call. "Oh, it'sfather, " she wailed, dropping to her knees at his side. "He's beenhurt. Badly, too. "

"No, not badly, Miss Shelton. He'll be around in a minute. I'm sorryto have excited you, but when I called I feared it was worse than itis. " He was washing the blood from her father's small wound as hespoke. 

She took the basin from his hand, spilling some of the water in hereagerness. "Here, let me have that cloth, " she demanded. 

Eddie admired her as her deft fingers took up the task. She was asexquisite in a simple sport outfit as she had been in her bathingsuit. 

The scientist opened his eyes after a moment. Remembrance came at onceand he sat erect in the chair, staring. 

"Lina!" he exclaimed, grasping her hand conclusively. "You're here, thank God! I dreamed--oh, it was horrible--I dreamed they had you. " Heclung to her closely. 

"They?" she murmured inquiringly. 

"Yes. Two of them are loose now. It's danger for you, my dear. Youmust leave at once. No, no--I can't let you out of my sight until theyare captured or destroyed. " He rose to his feet in his agitation andshook his head to clear it. He looked pleadingly at Eddie as ifexpecting him to offer a solution of the difficulty. 

"Vail!" he exploded, then, pointing a shaking forefinger at anelaborate short-wave radio transmitter which occupied a corner of thelarge room. "I ask you to bear witness. That is the source of energyfor these creations of mine and it's shut down. How on earth can theykeep going? I ask you. "

"Perhaps someone else, sir, " Eddie suggested doubtfully. "Have you anyenemies who might be able to duplicate the impulses of thatapparatus?"

"Bah! Enemies, yes--with Universal--but none who could duplicate thecomplicated frequencies I use. My secrets are my own. I've never evenput them on paper. "

 * * * * *

Eddie was examining the intricate apparatus. "You knew of the firstone's escape, didn't you?" he asked. "How did it happen?"

Shelton again became the enthusiastic scientist. "Here, " he said, "I'll show you and you can judge for yourself. " He strode to thegleaming figure of a seven-foot robot of startlingly human-likeappearance. 

Lina let forth an exclamation of repugnance and fear. 

"No, Mr. Shelton, " Eddie objected. "The same thing will occur again. Then there will be three. "

"We'll fix that, my boy. " The scientist was removing cover plates fromthe hip joints of the mechanical man. "I'll disconnect the cables thatfeed the locomotors. He _can't_ walk then. "

Eddie was still doubtful but dared offer no further objection, especially since Lina Shelton was watching in wide-eyed silence. Heexamined the monster and saw that it was quite similar in outsideappearance to those supplied by Universal for heavy manual labor, excepting that this one was armed as were those used for prisonguards. There were the same articulated limbs and the various clampsand hooks for lifting and heavy hauling; the tentacles for grasping;machine guns front and back. Under the helical headpiece that was theantenna this robot seemed to have two eyes--a new feature--but closerexamination showed these to be the twin lenses of a stereoscopicmotion picture camera. This robot, then, could see. Or at least itcould record what the lenses saw for its masters. 

"There, " Shelton grunted when he had finished his tinkering, "he'sparalyzed from the waist down. Let this one try and get away from us. "

"Guns aren't loaded, are they?" Eddie asked. 

"Lord, no! Never have any of them loaded. That _would_ be a foolstunt. " Shelton had pulled the starting handle of a motor-generatorand its rising whine accompanied his words. 

 * * * * *

The vacuum tubes of the transmitter glowed into life and the scientistmanipulated the controls rapidly. Lina was watching the robot withfascinated awe. Its arms moved in obedience to the controls, tentacleswaved and coiled; the humming of its internal mechanisms filled theroom. The locomotion controls had no effect, as the scientist hadpredicted. Eddie drew a sigh of relief. 

"Now, Vail, watch, " Shelton exulted. "I'll show you what I was doingwith the first one. " He closed a switch that lighted another bank ofvacuum tubes behind the control panel. 

"You can make this one invisible?" Eddie asked incredulously. 

"Certainly--from the waist up. This ought to be good. "

"Mind telling me the principle?"

"Not at all--now. I've your promise of secrecy. It's a simple matter, Vail, really. Just a problem of wave motions--light. Invisible light;the ultra-violet, you know. My robots are built of specially alloyedmetals which permit great freedom of molecular vibration. Theinsulating materials and even the glass of the camera lenses arepossessed of the same property. Get it? I merely set up a wave motionin the atoms of the material that is in synchronism with the frequencyof ultra-violet light, which is invisible to the human eye. Allvisible colors are absorbed, or more accurately, none are reflectedexcepting the ultra-violet. Perfect transparency is obtained sincethere is neither refraction nor diffraction of the visible colors. Andthere you are!"

Eddie stared at the upper half of the robot and saw that it waschanging color as Shelton tuned the transmitted wave. Then suddenly itwas gone. The entire upper portion of the mechanism had vanished; hadjust snuffed out like the flame of a candle. He could see down intothe tops of the thing's hollow legs. Shelton laughed at him as hestretched forth his hand and hesitatingly felt for the invisiblemid-section and upper body. It was there all right, unyielding andcold, that metal body. But no trace of it was visible to the eye. Hedrew back his fingers as if they had touched a hot stove. The thingwas positively uncanny. 

"Dad! Turn it off--please, " Lina begged. "It's getting on my nerves. Please!"

Obligingly, Shelton pulled the switch. "Now you'll see, " he said toEddie, "whether the same thing happens. Watch. "

 * * * * *

Mistily at first, the outlines of the monster's torso and arms cameinto view, semi-transparent but clouding rapidly to opacity. Then itglinted with the barely visible violet, a solid once more, rigid andmotionless. It was a lifeless mechanism, for the source of its energyhad been cut off. Eddie had an almost irresistible impulse to pinchhimself. 

Then he gasped audibly, as did Shelton, for the thing snuffed out ofsight again without warning, and the hum of its many motors resumed. There came a terrific clanking as it waved arms and tentacles andviolently threshed with its upper body. But the visible portion, itslegs, remained rooted to the floor of the laboratory. Lucky it wasthat the scientist had disconnected those wires; lucky too that themachine guns were empty of ammunition. 

"There now--see?" Shelton's voice rose excitedly. "It's been no faultof mine. The power is off but it moves--it moves. What on earth do yousuppose--"

Eddie's shout interrupted him. He had seen something at the window: aface pressed against the pane and contorted with unutterable malice. Then it was gone. With the shout of warning still in his throat, Eddiebounded through the door in pursuit of the intruder. Lina's cry ofrecognition followed him into the twilight. "Carlos!" she had called. 

He saw a stocky figure slink around the corner of the laboratory andmake for the underbrush beyond. In a flash he was after him. No, hethought grimly, Shelton hadn't any enemy clever enough to duplicatehis transmitter! The hell he didn't! Who the devil was this fellowCarlos anyway? He tore savagely at the impeding branches as he plungeddeeper and deeper into the thicket. 

 * * * * *

It was a fruitless chase and Eddie soon retraced his steps to thelaboratory. Swell mess he'd gotten himself into! His car was gone:probably wrapped around a tree by this time. And here was a situationthat spelled real danger, a thing with which Shelton was utterlyunable to cope. As a matter of fact, he was so impractical--such avisionary cuss, after the fashion of all geniuses--that he'd never beconvinced of the seriousness of the matter until it was too late. Whatto do? The girl was a corker, though, and game as they made 'em. Justthe sort a fellow could tie to. .. . 

Lina's firm clear voice came to him through the open door of thelaboratory. "Dad, " she was saying, "why don't you give it up? Let's goback to New York where it is safe for you and for me. Let the thingsgo and forget about them. What do they amount to, after all? We'veplenty of money and you already have earned enough fame to last therest of your life. Come on now--please--for me. "

"What do they amount to?" Shelton reiterated, his voice risingquerulously. "Lina, it's the most tremendous thing I've ever done. Think for a moment of what my robots could accomplish in the next war. And there'll be a next war as sure as you're alive. Think of it! Nosending of our young manhood into the bloody fields of battle; nomanning of our air fleets with the cream of our youth; no bloodshed onour side whatsoever. Instead, these robots will fight the war. They'llfight other robots too, no doubt, but the property of invisibilitywill be an invincible weapon. It will be a war that will end war onceand for all. You can't--"

"Nonsense, Father, " the girl returned sharply. "You've let yourenthusiasm run away with your judgment. See what's happenedalready?--someone's figured it out before you've even perfected thething. An enemy of our country could do the same in wartime. Maybeit's a foreign spy who has done what's been done to-day. "

 * * * * *

Eddie walked into the laboratory. "Couldn't find him, " he announcedbriefly. 

"No difference, " said Shelton. "He doesn't count in this. We called toyou when you rushed out, but couldn't make you hear. "

"Who is he?" Eddie asked shortly. What he had overheard made him morethan ever impatient with the older man. So clever and yet so dense, Shelton was. 

Lina avoided his gaze. 

"Only Carlos--Carlos Savarino, " said Shelton, carelessly, "a Chilean, I think. He worked for me for two months during the summer and I firedhim for getting fresh with Lina. Good mechanic, but dumb as an ox. Hadto tell him every little detail when he was doing something in theshop. I'd have saved time if I'd done it myself. "

The girl looked at Eddie squarely now. She was flushing hotly. "And Ihorsewhipped him, " she added. 

"Yes, " Shelton laughed; "it was rich. He sneaked away like a whippedpuppy, and this is the first time we've seen him since. "

Eddie whistled. "And you think he doesn't count in this?" he asked. 

"Of course not. Too dumb, I tell you. Doesn't know the firstprinciples of science. He thinks the only wave motion is that of theocean. " Shelton chuckled over his own jest. 

"I wouldn't be too sure, " Eddie snapped. "And I want to tell yousomething, Mr. Shelton. Through no fault of my own, I heard some ofyour conversation with Li--with your daughter, before I returned here. I was puzzled over your reasons for working so absorbedly on thisthing, but now I know them and I think you're wasting your time andkeeping your daughter in needless danger. "

"You dare talk to me like this!" Shelton roared. 

"I do, sir, and you'll thank me later. " Eddie returned the older man'sglare with one equally savage. 

Lina's gurgle of laughter broke the tension. "He's right, Dad, and youknow it, " she interposed. "Let him finish. "

Eddie needed no such encouragement, though it warmed his heart. AndShelton listened respectfully when he continued, "I'm into this now, sir, and I intend to see it through to the end. I'll keep your secret, too, though I doubt if it'll ever be of much value to you. Know what Ithink? I think this Carlos is a damn clever fellow instead of the assyou took him to be. He probably just pretended he was ignorant ofscience. Why shouldn't he? That way he got a liberal education fromyou in the very things he wanted to find out. Since you tied the canto him he's had plenty of chances to build a duplicate of your controlapparatus--with the aid of some foreign government, no doubt--and nowthey've stolen two of your machines to complete the job. Your secretalready is out and in the very hands you've tried to keep it from. "

 * * * * *

Shelton paled visibly as Eddie talked. "But--but how--" he stammered. 

"How should I know how they did it?" the younger man countered. "Here--let's take a look around. I'll bet they've left their trailright here in this room. "

He walked from one end of the laboratory to the other, peering intocorners and under work benches as he passed. Shelton trailed him likea shadow, squinting through the square lenses of his spectacles. 

They carefully avoided the partially invisible robot, for the hummingof its upper motors continued and clanking sounds occasionally issuedfrom the unseen upper portion. The enemies of David Shelton were stillat work on their hidden controls. 

"Here--what's this?" Eddie exclaimed suddenly, pointing out a glintingobject in a dark corner of the laboratory. 

Shelton examined it closely, looking over his shoulder. The object hehad located seemed to be a mounted and hooded lens, a highly polishedglass of about two inches diameter with its mounting attached rigidlyto the wall. 

"Never saw that before, " Shelton stated with conviction. "And--why--itlooks like an objective such as those used in the latest automatictelevision transmitters. "

"Just what it is, " Eddie grunted. He picked up a pinch bar from anearby tool rack and drove its end through the glass as he spoke thewords. 

A violent wrench tore the thing loose and broke away a section of thethin plastered wall. There, in the cleverly concealed cavity behind, was revealed the mechanism of the radio "eye. " Somewhere, someone badbeen watching their every move. And abruptly the thrashings of therobot ceased and its upper portion again became visible. 

 * * * * *

"Well, " said David Shelton. "Well! Looks as if you're right, youngman. I'm astonished. " His watery eyes looked sheepishly over the rimsof his glasses. 

Lina watched their every move. She seemed to sense the seriousness ofthe situation far more than did her father. 

Then the lights went out. It had darkened to night outside and theblackness and silence in the laboratory was like that of a tomb. 

"They've cut the wires, " Eddie whispered hoarsely. "Got any weaponshere, Shelton?"

"Yes. A couple of automatics. I'll get them. " The scientist was nocoward, anyway. His whispered words came calmly through the silence. 

Eddie heard him shuffle a few steps and fumble with a drawer of thedesk. In a moment the cold hard butt of a pistol was thrust into hishand. It had a comforting feel. 

"Stay here with Lina, " he commanded. "I'll go out and see if I canfind them. This looks nasty to me. "

"No, " came the girl's voice, "I'm going too. "

"You are not, " Eddie hissed. "You'll stay here or I'll know thereason. It's dark as a pocket outside and my eyes are as good astheirs. I'll get 'em if they're around here. You hear me?"

"Yes, " she whispered meekly. 

Edward Vail, only that morning headed for rest and quiet, was now outin the night, stalking an unknown and vicious enemy. And--for what? Ashe asked himself the question, the smile of Lina seemed to answer himfrom the blackness. Cherchez la femme! He was getting dotty as heneared his thirties. Maybe it was the hard work that had affected hismind. 

 * * * * *

The black hulk of the old house loomed against the scarcely less darksky. There was no moon, and in only one tiny portion of the heavenswere the stars visible. Mighty few of them at that. The swish-swish ofthe surf came to his ears faintly. Or was it someone creeping alongthe wall of the house? He held his breath and waited. 

They wouldn't use the robots at night. Couldn't follow their movementsin the teleview, if such an attachment had been built into theircontrol transmitter. No, the devils would be here in person. 

A muttered Teutonic curse sounded close at hand. That wouldn't beCarlos. God! Were the heinies mixed up in this thing? Just like 'em tobe swiping a new war machine; but hadn't they gotten enough in 1944?Without warning he was catapulted from his feet by the impact of aheavy body. He struck the ground so violently that the pistol wasjarred from his hand. Disarmed before the fight had started!

Then he was rolling over and over, battling desperately with anassailant who was much larger and heavier than himself. He was dazedand weakened from his initial dive to the hard ground. All rules ofboxing and wrestling were forgotten. Biting, kicking, gouging, allwere the same to this silent and powerful antagonist. It wascatch-as-catch-can in the darkness, and mostly the other fellow couldand did. He had a grip like the clamp of a robot. Trying to dig outone of his eyes? Eddie saw stars--and lashed out with all his might, his flying fists playing a tattoo on the others ribs. Short arm jabsthat brought grunts of agony from his big assailant. Try to blind him, would he?

Eddie somehow managed to get on top; his clutching fingers found theother's collar. Then he let loose with terrific rights and lefts thatsmacked home to head and face. Those outlanders don't like the goodold American fist, and Eddie had room to bring them in from way back, now. The fellow had ceased struggling and Eddie's hands were gettingslippery. Blood! Must be, for the stuff was warm and sticky. He restedfor a moment, breathing heavily. The other was quiet beneathhim--knocked cold. He staggered to his feet triumphantly; wondered howmany more of them there were. 

 * * * * *

He looked around in the darkness, straining his eyes in vain to pierceits thick veil. There was a glimmer of light over there, through awindow. The laboratory! The light flickered a second and vanished. Acold fear gripped him and he stumbled through the grounds blindly, finally colliding painfully with the brick wall. He felt his waytoward the door, or where he thought it should be. 

He dared not call out for fear the others would hear. Where was thatdamned door? He rested again and listened. Not a sound was to beheard from within or without. He clawed his way frantically along theunsympathetic wall. It was a mile wide, that laboratory of Shelton's. Ah--at last! Weakly, he staggered within. 

"Lina!" he whispered, "Lina! Shelton!"

There was no reply. He fumbled for a match. Funny how slowly his mindworked . .. Thoughts coming jerkily like a sound film running at quarterspeed . .. Fingers shaking so he could scarcely strike a light. The flareshowed the laboratory empty of human beings . .. Lina gone . .. That crazyrobot . .. Quiet now, and visible . .. But grinning at him . .. Thendarkness. .. . 

 * * * * *

What a headache! Eddie rolled over and groaned. Astounded by thehardness of his bed and the stiffness of his joints, he roused toinstant wakefulness; sat up and stared. Where the devil was he? Thelaboratory--Shelton's--Lina. He jumped to his feet. Dawn was breakingand its first faint radiance lighted the robot with eery shiftingcolors. He berated himself: he'd passed out. 

He dashed through the door and made a wild circuit of the grounds. Empty! No--there was his automatic, where it had fallen. Blood stainson the grass showed where the encounter had taken place last night. Must have smashed the Dutchman's nose. But he was gone. Everybody wasgone. He rushed into the house and from room to room, upstairs anddown. The place was deserted. 

This was something to think about. Not an automobile around, noneighbors, not even a telephone. When Shelton went into seclusion, hedid it thoroughly. Eddie returned to the laboratory and hunchedhimself in the scientist's chair. Maybe he could think better here. 

They had Shelton and his daughter, all right. Kidnapped them. Therewas probably some detail of his discovery they couldn't dope out, andhad decided to force him into telling them. The devils would useLina's safety as a threat to force him into anything. Horrible, thatthought. And Carlos already had made advances to her. 

Startled by a sharp click, he turned around. The robot was whirringinto life. Fast workers, whoever Shelton's enemies were, and up early!He found the pinch bar with which he had wrecked the televisionapparatus and, with a few mighty blows, destroyed the antenna andheadpiece of the mechanical man. They'd not pull off any devilmentwith this one, anyway. 

A wave meter on one of the benches attracted his attention and hetwirled its knob. It gave strong indication at one and a half meters. The wave length of their control transmitter! If only he couldfind--but there it was: a direction finder. Hastily, he lighted itstubes and tuned to the frequency shown by the meter. He rotated theloop over the compass dial and carefully noted maximum and minimumsignals. He had a line on the transmitter! And it must be close by, for the intensity of the carrier wave was tremendous. 

 * * * * *

Slipping the automatic into his pocket, he left the laboratory andstruck out through the underbrush in the direction Carlos had takenthe day before. Fighting his way through the tangled shrubbery, hekept his eyes constantly on the needle of the magnetic compass he hadwrenched from the direction finder. It was tough going through thethicket, and just as bad across a swampy clearing where he was miredto the knees before he got across. Up the hill and into the woods heforged, keeping doggedly to the direction he had determined. This wasrough country, less than a hundred miles from New York butuncultivated and unsettled excepting for the few summer places alongthe shore. He'd heard that these backwoods were infested withrum-runners and hijackers, a cutthroat gang. 

There was a cabin off there through the trees, almost on the line hewas following. Must be what he was looking for. He advancedcautiously, creeping stealthily from tree to tree. 

Voices came to his ears, and the throb of a motor-generator. It wasthe place, all right. He crept closer, and, circling the house, sawthat an almost impassable road led to it from the rear. A heavylimousine was parked there in the trees, and another car, a yellowroadster--his own. A feeling of grim satisfaction was quicklydispelled by the sound of a familiar humming. Within a foot of hisear, it seemed to be, and instinctively he ducked. 

Click! A powerful clamp had fastened itself to his wrist. One ofShelton's invisible robots! He struck blindly at the unseen monsterand was rewarded by a shooting pain up his wrist as one of hisknuckles was driven backward by the impact with the hard metal. Bandsof writhing metal encompassed his body, pinning his arms to his sideand lifting him bodily from the ground. There he hung, kicking andstruggling in mid-air, supported by nothing he could see. He closedhis eyes and felt of the thing that held him. Cold, hard metal itwas--implacable and unyielding. 

Clank, clank. The monster was walking with long, jerky strides. Thepressure against his ribs brought a gasp of agony from his lips. Eachjarring step was an individual and excruciating torture. His breathwas cut off by the relentless constriction of one of the tentacleswhich now encircled his neck. It wouldn't be long now. 

 * * * * *

Then, when everything had turned black and he had given up hope, hewas dumped unceremoniously on the hard floor of the cabin. A harshlaugh greeted him as he struggled weakly to his knees. 

"Thought you could put one over on Al Cadorna, did you?" a voicerasped. 

The room spun round as he tried to regain his feet. A mist swambefore his eyes. Al Cadorna! The most picturesque figure in gangland. Credited with a dozen killings and with ill-gotten wealth untold, thisleader of the underworld openly boasted that the police had nevergotten anything on him. And they hadn't. So it was a criminal who hadlaid hands on Shelton's robots, not a foreign spy. Worse and worse. Hethought of what they might be able to do with these invisiblemechanical things: make gunmen out of them; safe blowers; housebreakers. Why, society would be at their mercy; banks defenceless; themints, even--

"Stand up on your pins, you worm! Let's have a look at you!" Themuzzle of an automatic was thrust in his abdomen, proddinginsistently. Things stabilized in the room and he looked up into thecruelest face he had ever seen, and recognizable from the manypictures which had appeared in the yellow press. 

Eddie took in the surroundings at a glance. He was in a low-ceilingedroom that was almost unfurnished. In one corner there was a replica ofShelton's robot control, teleview disc and all. Carlos had just pulledthe switch and the robot was taking visible form. The man who proddedhim with the automatic was Cadorna, no doubt of that. His evil leerand yellow eyes marked him at once. The other occupant of the room wasa big square-built man with a patch over one eye and strips ofadhesive tape across his nose--his antagonist of the night before. Must have sneaked off after he came to; it was safer to send one ofthe robots after the _verdammt Amerikaner_. Eddie restrained a chuckleat the thought. 

"Nothing to laugh at, kid!" Cadorna snarled. "You're goin' for a nicelong ride pretty quick. Know that?"

Eddie's head was clearing rapidly, but he pretended to sway on hisfeet. Lina and her father were not in sight. If only he could spar fora little time. 

"What's the idea?" he asked. "Haven't you guys got enough?"

"That's our business. We know what we're doin', and when you butted inyou just signed your own papers. Dead men don't talk, you know, kid!"

 * * * * *

There was a door at the other side of the room. If only he could seewhether Lina was in there; whether she was alive. 

"Tie him up, Gus!" Cadorna kept the pistol pressed into the pit ofEddie's stomach as he gave the order. "Hands and feet--and make it agood job, you wiener. "

Eddie shouted then. "Lina!" Resistance was useless, but it would givehim some satisfaction to know she still lived even though Cadornapulled that trigger in the next instant. No reply came from beyondthat door. 

"So!" Cadorna grinned maliciously. "Another victim! Carlos first, thenyou, and now--Al Cadorna. If you're worrying about her, kid, youneedn't. She'll be perfectly safe with me. "

Eddie's roar of rage shook the rafters. Heedless of consequences, hebrought his knee up suddenly and violently. Cadorna sank to the floorwith a groan, his pistol clattering harmlessly on the rough planks. Ina flash Eddie retrieved it, dropping behind the prostrate form of thestricken gangster. Gus had fired and missed. Now he dared not shootfor fear of hitting his chief. Eddie's gun spat fire and the bigGerman clapped his hands over his heart, his good eye widening insurprise. Then he reeled and pitched forward on his face. A femininecry sounded from the adjoining room and Eddie's heart skipped a beatwhen he heard it. 

Carlos was padding across the floor, trying to get into a positionwhere he could fire without endangering Cadorna. Eddie swung hispistol around and pulled the trigger. A miss! He fired again, but toolate. Fingers of steel had gripped his wrist and the king of ganglandrolled over on him, twisting the gun from his hand. Clubbed now, thepistol was raised high over that distorted, malicious face. Eddietried to twist away from under the blow as it started its downwardswing, then a thousand steam hammers hit him all at once and . .. Blackness. .. . 

 * * * * *

Something was pounding insistently at the doors of his consciousness. He must pull himself together! They'd left him for dead and hewas--almost. But voices as loud and raucous as those would waken thedead. He groaned with pain when he attempted to move his head. 

"That for you, you rat. " It was Cadorna's voice. "Try to take mywoman, will you?"

The pounding resolved itself into the angry barking of an automatic. Someone squealed with mortal agony. Eddie opened his eyes cautiouslyand saw that the room was full of people. The pungent odor of burnedpowder assailed his nostrils. There was Cadorna and Carlos, DavidShelton and Lina. An undersized, dapper youth stood over the body ofthe big German, his hands outstretched before his horror-strickenface. A moment he stood thus, like a statue. Then his knees gave waybeneath him and he crumpled into a grotesque heap beside the man whohad been called Gus. Such was the manner of Cadorna's dealing withthose who displeased him. 

The door to the adjoining room was open. Lina and her father had beenkept in there, with the little thug as their guard. Evidently Cadornahad caught him trying to force his attentions on the girl. Good thinghe'd killed him. 

Lina was sobbing and the sound brought increased agony to the helplessEddie. He lay still where they had placed him, beside the table whichsupported the robot control apparatus. His cheek was against the floorand he saw that a little pool of blood was forming there, blood drawnby the butt of Cadorna's pistol when it contacted with his skull. Hewas bound hand and foot. They hadn't thought him dead, after all. Keeping him for that ride and a watery grave. Couldn't afford to leavehis body around where it might be found. 

"What are you going to do with us?" Shelton was asking, his voicebravely defiant. Game old sport at that, he was. 

"Don't fret over your daughter. Al Cadorna's her protector now, andshe'll be taken care of better'n she's ever been. But you--that'ssomethin' else again. First off, you're goin' to give Carlos the dopeon these trick metals in your machines. He couldn't analyze 'em, orwhatever you call it. Then you're goin' to have a nice long ride withyour friend over there. "

"You'll go to the chair for this, Cadorna. And I'll never tell you thesecret of the alloys. "

"Tell him, Dad, " Lina was crying. "He'll let us go if you do. "

"The hell I will, girlie. What I said, goes. We'll make him talkfirst, too, " Cadorna snarled. 

"Never!" Shelton shouted. 

 * * * * *

Lina had seen Eddie and, with a little cry, she bounded across theroom. Carlos was after her like a panther. 

"Hands off that dame!" Cadorna yelled. "Let her cry over the boyfriend if she wants to. Won't do her any good. You get busy and setone of the tin soldiers goin'. Make the old buzzard talk. "

Carlos muttered sullenly as he started the motor-generator. Give him achance and he'd knife Cadorna in the back--for Lina. 

The girl was kneeling at Eddie's side now, examining his bleedingscalp. He opened one eye and gazed at her solemnly, pursing his lipsin a warning to silence. She caught her breath and nodded inunderstanding. 

Cadorna was shouting like a madman. "Keep the damn thing so I can seeit, you spig! They make me bug-house when you blink 'em off. Besides, I don't trust you. "

The bold Cadorna was afraid of something he couldn't see! An ideaflashed across Eddie's quickening mind. But he was helpless--bound sotightly that the cords cut his wrists. 

One of the robots was clanking across the room. Lina looked up inmomentary terror and Eddie saw her eyes stray over the table top whereCarlos was working. 

"Want to grab the old one?" the Chilean called. 

"Yes. Pick him up and squeeze him till his ribs crack. He'll talk. "

Lina let a little moan escape her lips. Eddie was watching as the ironmonster approached the scientist and flung its tentacles around hismadly struggling form. Lina was fussing with him, trying to turn himover. Cadorna's back was to them, his face thrust into that ofShelton, who was fighting desperately to avoid the crushing grip ofthe robot. 

"Give him a squeeze, Carlos. "

 * * * * *

Shelton's yell brought another low moan from the girl's set lips. Shewas working furiously at Eddie's bonds. Lord, she had a knife! Goodgirl! Must have found it on the table. His hands were free and hewriggled his fingers to bring them to life. Then his feet. He was ableto move. Lina whispered in his ear. 

"All right?" she asked anxiously. 

"Yes, " he whispered. Somehow their lips touched and Eddie felt hisheart pound at his temples. New life came to him with a rush ofexaltation. 

Shelton was crying out in pain and Lina sprang to her feet. "Youbeast!" she shouted at Cadorna. "Let him go. "

Then she was across the room, tearing at the unyielding metal bandsthat pinioned her father and slowly crushed him. Cadorna laughedmirthlessly. 

"Tell him to give me the dope, " he retorted. "Then I'll let himgo--for a while. "

Shelton's head hung on his chest, rolling weakly from side to side. Eddie doubted whether he could speak if he wished to. The Chilean wasworking at the controls, increasing the tension of those terribletentacles. Eddie raised himself to his knees, watching Cadornanarrowly. He fingered the knife Lina had used in freeing him. No, hecouldn't use that. The Chilean would cry out and queer everything. Helaid it on the floor, within easy reach. 

Cadorna was cursing now, first Shelton and then the girl. His rage wasmaniacal. "Another notch!" he bellowed. 

Eddie rose silently and clamped his fingers on the Chilean's windpipe. Lina's eyes widened as she saw. She did everything in her power tokeep Cadorna's attention occupied as Eddie sunk those fingers intoCarlos' throat. The Chilean's eyes popped from his head as hestruggled furiously to tear away the steel-sinewed hand that hadstopped off his breath. Death was staring him in the face, and hecould not cry out. His strength left suddenly as the fingers dug indeeper, and Eddie shook him as he would a rat. In a surprisingly shorttime he had slumped to the floor, and not until his squirmings ceaseddid Eddie loose that awful grip. 

"Another notch, you spiggoty!"

 * * * * *

Eddie bent over the controls. Lina's pleadings mingled with the cursesof Cadorna. She was cajoling now--telling the brute she'd go with himgladly if only he'd free her father; promising anything, everything, in the desperate attempt to keep him from discovering that his lasthenchman was out of the picture. But her words served only to spurEddie to swifter action. He twirled the knobs of the dual control. Thesecond robot was fading from view. He'd give Cadorna a dose of thething he really feared. He eased off a little on the other control, releasing the pressure on poor Shelton's ribs as much as he dared. 

The position indicator of the second robot moved slightly as Eddiestarted the invisible monster toward the yelling gangster. He watchedthe screen closely. It was quite a trick, at that, controlling thesethings you couldn't see. All you had to go by were these sketchyrepresentations in the teleview; tiny flecks of light that outlinedthe various movable members of the robot. 

"Eddie!" Lina screamed suddenly. "Look out!"

But he had seen Cadorna wheel around as he watched his image on thescreen. At that moment a tentacle was writhing its way around histhick neck. A bullet whistled past Eddie's ear and buried itselfharmlessly in the wall. 

Then from the blasphemous mouth of the king of gangland there came ashriek of awful fear. The tightening tentacle shut it off in a chokinggurgle. Cadorna was captured at last--by a monster he could not see, amonster that struck terror to his craven soul. 

It was the work of but a moment to free David Shelton from the grip ofthe other robot. The tortured man tottered into Lina's arms forsupport. 

Eddie played with Cadorna now, releasing the grip from his throat andpinioning his arms instead. With rapid fingers he manipulated thecontrols until the screaming gangster was raised high in the air bythe unseen arms of the robot. 

"Another notch, Al, " he chortled. 

Cadorna yelled anew as the clamps tightened, "For God's sake, kid, quit it! Let me down. I'll do anything you say. "

"Yeah?" Eddie moved one of the rheostat knobs a trifle. 

The prince of racketeers was whimpering now, like a baby. The sharpsnap of a rib punctured his outcries. 

"Another notch, " said Eddie grimly. 

But the king of the underworld had fainted. 

 * * * * *

An hour later Eddie Vail surveyed the scene complacently. Lina hadwashed the blood from his head and face and bandaged his wound. Luckily, Cardorna's blow had been a glancing one. The girl was fussingover her father, now, and the scientist was on the point of resentingher attentions; swore he could take care of himself; he wasn't a baby. Carlos and his chief were trussed up like mummies, and had beensnarling at each other ever since the Chilean recovered his senses, each blaming the other for their predicament. The robots stoodmotionless by the wall. 

This would be a big haul for the police. Plenty of evidence to sendCadorna to the chair now. The murder of Butch Collins, the undersizedthug, had been witnessed by three of them. No, four: Carlos wouldsqueal. He was that kind. There would be rejoicing in the underworldtoo, for Cadorna had many enemies. They'd be killing each other off indroves though, for the leaders of rival gangs would be battling forhis place. 

"Guess we'll have to dump them in the limousine, " he remarked toShelton. "Drive them to the nearest town and turn them over to theauthorities. "

"Yes. Then they can come back for the bodies of the other two. "Shelton grimaced as he contemplated the sprawled figures. 

"What about your robots?" Eddie asked. 

"Why, I'll go ahead with my original plans, of course. " The scientistlooked surprised. 

"Dad!" Lina turned beseeching eyes on Eddie and his heart performedamazingly as he looked into their depths. 

"And why not?" asked her father dolefully. "They'll insure the peaceof the world. They'll--"

"Listen, Mr. Shelton, " Eddie interrupted. "If you'll think a littleyou'll realize that they'll do no such thing. Has any new and terribleengine of destruction ever accomplished that result? No--the enemyalways finds a way of combating the new weapon and of devising anotherstill more terrible. You've discovered a marvelous thing, but itsvalue is quite problematical. "

"How can they ever combat a thing they cannot see?"

"Easily. Why, I could devise a teleview attachment in two days thatwould make them visible. Photo-electric cells are capable of detectingultra-violet light as you well know. Radium glows under its rays. Whynot coat a teleview screen with some radio-active material?"

 * * * * *

Shelton frowned thoughtfully. "You're right. Vail, " he said, after amoment of silence; "absolutely right. It was only a dream. "

With dragging feet he walked to the transmitter, his expression grimin the realization of failure. He started the motor-generator with agesture of finality. 

"What are you going to do?" Eddie asked fearfully. 

"Watch me! At least I can demonstrate another phase of the basicprinciple I have discovered. "

The motors of both robots whirred. 

"Don't!" Cadorna wailed. "For God's sake, don't blink 'em out!"

Carlos cursed his chief for a coward. 

Shelton was talking rapidly as he manipulated the controls. Instead ofbuilding up the wave motion to the frequency of invisible light he wasreducing it. Past the other end of the spectrum and into theinfra-red. The heat ray! Both monsters were changing color as hemarched them through the door and into the open. But now they glowedwith a visible red that rapidly intensified to the dazzling whitenessof intense heat. Cadorna babbled in superstitious terror. Then, in aninstant, both mechanisms were reduced to shapeless blobs of moltenmetal. Lina clapped her hands gleefully. 

Shelton looked up with enthusiasm once more shining in his face. "Vail, my boy, " he said, "we can find some use for that in industry. Let the next war take care of itself. "

"You bet!" Eddie was lost in contemplation of the girl--the flush ofpleasure that came at her father's words; the shining eyes. 

"Then you'll leave the old place down here?" she asked eagerly. 

"Yes, as soon as we get rid of these crooks and the other robot. Vailis to spend the rest of his vacation with us, too--if he will. "

Would he? Eddie gazed at the girl in rapt admiration and with aninward thrill over his astounding good fortune. Her eyes droppedbefore the intensity in his and her flush heightened. 

David Shelton was wiping his glasses and peering at them with anunderstanding smile. Good sport, Shelton--and in some ways as wise asthey made them. Eddie waited breathlessly for the girl to speak. 

"Oh, that's wonderful, Dad, " she approved; "and I'm sure that Mr. Vailwill agree. "

She turned those glorious eyes on Eddie once more and her inquiringsmile spoke volumes. He opened his mouth to accept the invitation butthe words would not come. He could only nod his head vigorously likean abashed schoolboy. 

Some vacation!

[Illustration: Advertisement. ]

Phalanxes of Atlans

_By F. V. W. Mason_

CONCLUSION

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE

[Illustration: _Yes, there came a strange, but welcome sight. _]

[Sidenote: Never did an aviator ride a more amazing sky-steed thanAlden on his desperate dash to the great Jarmuthian Ziggurat. ]

Victor Nelson and Richard Alden are forced down on a flight over anunexplored Arctic region. Returning from a hunt for food, Nelson findshis companion gone; but many footprints and blood splashes establish aclear trail to a tunnel, passing beneath a range of very highmountains on the edge of the unexplored area. In following the trail, Nelson encounters and slays an allosaurus, a terrible, carnivorousspecies of dinosaur surviving from the Cretaceous era. 

Then he presses on to presently emerge in an almost tropical valleyand encounter a remnant of the long lost Atlantean race, who are ruledby a dynasty of English-speaking kings--descendants of Sir HenryHudson, who had wandered into Atlans after being abandoned by his men. 

This valley in the Arctic owes its existence to the thinness of theearth's crust, which permits the interior heat to warm the surface. 

The Atlanteans are on the verge of war with another race, theJarmuthians, descended from the Lost Tribes of Israel, when Nelson istransported to Heliopolis, the Atlantean Capital, for trial. Allstrangers must prove their value to the State or be condemned to feedthe war monsters. 

Nelson soon discovers that Alden had been captured from the Atlanteansby the Jarmuthians. He strikes a bargain with Altorius, Emperor ofAtlans. He will undertake to fight any six of the enemy on conditionhe and Alden will be released if successful. 

Altorius agrees to Nelson's suggestion and makes a proposal to theJarmuthians. Heretofore he had been paying them an annual tribute ofsix maidens, as price for the safety of Altara, Sacred Virgin ofAtlans, whom Jarmuth had captured in a previous war. With Nelson'sbargain in mind he offers an increase of six maidens to the annualtribute, if the American fails to defeat six Jarmuthian champions. Onthe other hand, if Nelson wins, all tribute will cease, Altara willnot be sacrificed, and Alden is to be returned unharmed. 

On a dueling ground between the rival armies Nelson, armed with hisWinchester rifle, sallies out to battle with the enemy, who, on theirside, are armed with retortii--curious weapons hurling livesteam--fungus bombs, swords and lances. 

The tricky Jarmuthians, however, mount their men on a diplodocus, ahuge dinosaur some eighty-seven feet in length. All seems lost; but byblinding the colossal creature, Nelson destroys its usefulness, andone by one kills the six Jarmuthians. 

Stung with rage, the enemy disregard the terms of the contest andattack with their whole army. They are, however, defeated, and theconquered Jarmuthians sullenly turn over Alden and the captivemaidens; though Altara still remains in their possession. 

After making much of the Americans, Altorius reluctantly allows hispreservers to depart for their plane--unconscious that the priestlyparty is planning rebellion against his authority because he did notinsist on Altara's return. 

CHAPTER VII

"That's one of the fixed retortiis I was speaking about, " remarkedVictor Nelson as he paused to point out a tapering brass tube whichwas mounted on a platform above the long staircase up which he andAlden were toiling. "It's a big brute: see how small the gunners lookbeside it? These steam guns are wonderful things. "

The younger aviator sighed. "I've had enough of miracles, " he saidwiping his flushed features and hitching a small pack higher on hisleather-clad shoulders. "All I want to do is to lay my weary eyes onthe plane again. What with these ghastly allosauri, diplodocuses andother monsters, I'm damn well fed up with this place. "

Nelson settled his Winchester rifle more comfortably into the hollowof his arm. "Correct. So am I. But we can't say Altorius didn't doright by our Nell. Good Lord, what a triumph he gave us!" The darkpilot's smile flashed from beneath his neat, close-clipped blackmustache. "Wait till Cartier gets a peep at those diamonds he gaveus. "

Panting, the two halted by mutual consent. "Ever see so many stairs?"grunted Nelson. "Three more flights and we'll be into the tunnel; ah, there's the opening. I only hope these blighters haven't hurt theplane. "

Before resuming the climb Nelson shifted his rifle, idly regarding thearmored gunners just above; then suddenly he stiffened his wiry bodywith a sharp cry. "Look out, Dick! What the devil? Those damn foolsahead are swinging the retortii across our--"

 * * * * *

The dark haired aviator's words were drowned out in a deafening, hissing roar that burst from the great retortii's throat, and hisheart gave a great convulsive leap at the sight. Was this anaccident--or treachery? An accident of course. Somehow he could notbring himself to think that Altorius would break his pledged word. Projected in a shimmering white arm the scalding death vapor shotacross the staircase, its hot breath licking the faces of the startledand angry Americans, and quickly forcing them to turn and rundownwards to avoid being scalded. 

"What the devil are these idiots trying to do?" gasped Nelson, anxiously eyeing the red-crested warriors who, peering down throughthe blue lenses of their helmets, watched the khaki-clad aviators butmade no effort to realign their retortii. "Hero Giles'll skin thosefools alive if he hears of this. Guess we'd better wait a minute:they'll soon shut off the steam. "

Shielding his face from the steam clouds that obliterated all view ofthe staircase above, Alden stood watching the billowing steam cloudsin silent awe. 

"Terrible, aren't they, Vic?" he remarked. "I've never seen those bigfellows in action. They make the portable variety look like waterpistols. "

 * * * * *

As the steam barrier showed no signs of abating, an uneasy gleam creptinto Nelson's dark eye, and with jaw grimly set, he cocked theWinchester and turned with the intention of lodging a complaint at thenext station below; but, to his utter dismay, he beheld bronze armoredfigures on the next platform now training their long-muzzled steam gunacross the stair. Even as he sprang back, the deadly white vaporhissed forth from the second retortii, completely barring furtherretreat down the stair. Like an icy flood the chill of impending doominvaded Nelson's soul. This was no accidental discharge, for with theslightest change of direction in the deflection of either retortii, death would descend upon him and his companion. 

Swiftly speech became impossible, as the roar of the huge retortii wasdeafening; the two were lost in the heart of an opaque cloud whichcompletely blotted out the copper-hued Atlantean sky. Hot blood surgedinto Nelson's head while he became aware of ghostly and stealthyfigures advancing through the shimmering billows of vapor. Up, up, they came, like dream men, their eyes weird and unreal. Cursing thetreachery of their late host, Nelson and Alden watched dozens upondozens of hoplites come swarming up the stairs in solid, dully-gleaming ranks. Apparently intent to take them prisoners, theforemost Atlanteans made a rush, giving the American time to fire justtwice. 

Unable to retreat, the helpless aviators stood to meet the engulfingwave of hoplites. Nelson struck out as hard as he could at thoseyelling, red-bearded faces, though he knew the effort was hopeless. Hewas dimly conscious that Alden, not far away, also fought with thevigor of despair. 

With a sense of savage satisfaction, the dark haired aviator felt hisfist impact solidly into a yelling, sweating face; then somethingstruck his head and, amid a miniature sunburst, his senseless formsank limply on the damp stones of the great staircase. 

 * * * * *

After an interval, the length of which he did not know, Victor Nelsonopened his eyes slowly, for his head throbbed like a savage's wardrum. Uttering a stifled groan he shut the lids to still anoverpowering sense of nausea which gripped him, but a moment later hemade another attempt to discover in what sort of place he foundhimself. Gradually, his eyes became accustomed to a curious orange-redglare beyond a series of bars. Bars? The idea fixed itself in hisbenumbed brain; bars meant prison! Yes, those grim blank walls boreout the assumption. He lay on the damp stone floor of what must be afairly spacious cell. Beneath his leather aviator's jacket heshuddered. "Jail, eh? What a nice place to wake up in!"

A groan from behind him prompted Nelson to painfully raise his headand look about. He blinked dazedly, meanwhile trying to focus hiseyes, then he heaved a faint sigh of relief as his gaze encounteredthe muscular, well-proportioned figure of Richard Alden, who half sat, half reclined, against one of the grey stone walls, burying a ghastlypale face between trembling hands. 

"You hurt?" To speak, Nelson drew a slightly deeper breath and at oncebecame conscious of a horrible, throat-wrenching stench. Dimly, herecalled having once before encountered such an odor; when was it? Oh, yes; during the Great War when he'd stumbled into a dugout tenanted bylong unburied corpses. A cold finger stabbed at his brain. Corpses. 

"Are you hurt, Dick?" he repeated hoarsely. 

 * * * * *

The lax figure stirred and Alden's blonde head was raised slowly. "Idon't know. " His voice came very thickly. "I--I'm still dizzy. What'shappened?"

"Damned if I know; but those bright boys have evidently heaved us intoa calaboose of some kind!"

Nelson, on peering about, had discovered that one end of the cell wasclosed only by a series of massive bronze bars; the two other wallswere solid masonry; while the fourth was also solid but fitted with asmall oval door of bronze. 

"Calaboose? The hell you say!" Alden coughed feebly. "My God, but thatsteam was terrible stuff. I nearly smothered before I got knockedout. "

Slowly, the younger aviator looked about, and suddenly his eyeswidened in an expression of indescribable horror. 

"Look!" Alden's voice had died to a shaken whisper. "My God, Nelson, we're finished! Look at that allosaurus!"

 * * * * *

Following the line indicated by the pilot's shaking forefinger, Nelsonpeered out through the series of great bars while a shudder shook hisaching body. Though he had seen these fearful monsters on manyoccasions, yet it was never from such a position as that in which henow found himself. To his ears came a sibilant hissing like that of athousand serpents; and, quivering in every nerve, he forced his eyesopen once again, to discover that the cell which he and his companionoccupied was but one of a series of cells surrounding a huge square inwhich were imprisoned perhaps twenty or thirty of those horrible, gargoylesque creatures which were the Atlantean dogs of war. Somethirty-four feet in length, the enormous, slate-grey monsters hoppedleisurely about, their warty hides and huge luminous eyes betrayingtheir reptilian origin. In shape the allosauri resembled loathsome andtitanic kangaroos as they lumbered awkwardly to and fro, pickingviciously at what appeared to be fragments of human flesh and bones. 

While the two prisoners crouched paralyzed with horror, one of thenightmarish creatures came hopping over and, pressing a head as big asa steam scoop against the bars, stared in with huge, pale green eyes. A long minute the ghastly creature remained looking in, clearlyoutlined by the orange glow from outside. 

 * * * * *

The doomed aviators found something fearfully fascinating about thosenarrow vertical irises set in pupils the size of dinner plates. Uttering a deep growl, the allosaurus shuffled nearer, and impatientlyrubbed its huge, bullet head against the bars; then gripped theponderous bronze bars with its ridiculously small front legs to shakethe whole grille-work with a savagery that dislocated bits of plasterand made the metal reverberate. While Nelson and Alden shrank flatagainst the far wall, a scarlet tongue at least four feet longflicked the air but a few feet from their bloodless, sweating visages. Becoming irritated at the sturdiness of the barrier, the mountainousreptile tugged harder and hissed, filling the cell with a foulexhalation that stank like the reeks of smoldering rags. 

Nelson's wavering consciousness reeled, and a mad, dreadful fear, likethat a dreamer suffers in the grip of nightmare, invaded his being. Hefelt the hairs rising on the nape of his neck. 

But, with a squall of rage, the monster abandoned its futile effortsand leaped away. Feigning indifference, the allosaurus picked up ahalf-gnawed skull with its tiny forelegs; and, while the prisonerswatched, it stuffed the head into a maw twice the size of anelephant's and crunched the gruesome tidbit as easily as a boy would awalnut. Presently it shuffled off to rejoin the hideous herd in thecenter of the court. 

"Nice kind of a jail we've been thrown into. Wish I could understandwhat's happened. " Alden buried his face in his hands. "It kind oflooks as though Altorius had a change of heart. "

 * * * * *

Nelson replied nothing, but sat staring fixedly out into the horriblecourt. 

"Somehow, I don't think Altorius would do such a thing, " he said atlast. "Let's think back and see if we can't piece this treacherytogether. "

"Wish I had your faith in the Emperor--but I haven't. " Alden'shandsome face twisted itself into a wry smile. 

"Let's see, now, " persisted Nelson, fingering a square jaw upon whichsprouted a thick growth of reddish bristles. "There was a deputationof priests to see Altorius yesterday. They were clamoring for thereturn of Altara--the Sacred Virgin--and looked pretty mad when he putthem off. "

"Maybe this is the private doing of the priests, " admitted Alden. "Anyway, we're in one devil of a fix. There's certainly no way out ofthis calaboose--and those damned brutes out there look hungry. "

Nelson frowned, deep in thought. "Wish I could find a reasonableexplanation. I really don't think it's Altorius; still, that's whatyou get for mixing in on the politics of these forgotten kingdoms. "

"But, " reminded the other, "you had no choice, old lad. Remember, youmixed in to save me. "

From across the courtyard rang a loud, penetrating shriek of fear thatmade the two aviators spring to their feet and rush to the bars. Peering across the court, they discovered three naked men shriekingand clinging frantically to the bars of an exactly similar cell. 

"What's wrong with them?" demanded Alden as the agonized screams ranglouder still. 

"I don't know, " was Alden's breathless reply. "But what's that noise?"

A curious metallic clanking sound filled the poisoned air, and for amoment Nelson remained utterly puzzled. Then, as the noise grewlouder, the allosauri commenced to betray a strange restlessness. Theyceased basking and feeding, and their hideous heads commenced to dartquickly this way and that. 

 * * * * *

While the terrific shrieks of the wretches across the court rang tothe copper-hued sky, the two Americans remained in doubt; then all atonce the chill of death gripped their hearts, as they saw the bars ofthat cell directly opposite slowly but surely rising! Utteringheart-rending cries, the doomed prisoners clung frantically to staythe vanishing barrier separating them from those appalling man-eaters. But, disdainful of their pitiful efforts, the bronze bars roserelentlessly with metallic rattlings and janglings from some unseenmechanism. 

Rooted to the floor, both Americans watched the distant grille vanishinto the upper stone-work and heard the ghastly hissing as theallosauri herd commenced to move forward. Sick and shaken, Nelsonbeheld one of the doomed men cling in desperation to the bars; he waslifted clear of the floor and borne towards the ceiling, meanwhileventing his terror with such screams as could otherwise have risenonly from an inquisitor's torture chamber. 

The tragedy was swiftly completed. Half a dozen of the nearestallosauri, taller than any giraffes, suddenly sprang forward, theirlong, naked tails rising as their gait increased. Snarling horribly, the vast slate-colored beasts plunged into the cell, terminatingshrieks of mortal terror. Backs broader than bus tops squirmed andtugged, then one of the loathsome monsters reappeared carrying in itsdripping jaws a mangled, yet struggling victim much as a cat carries amouse. In a trice the other allosauri came rushing eagerly up, seekingto snatch the prey from the first monster. 

Nelson stiffened. "Great God! And that's what'll happen to us!"

 * * * * *

Weakened by his head wound, and blind with nausea, he stumbled to therear of the cell to collapse upon a pile of foul straw, littered withequipment which the superstitious captors must have condemned togetherwith the owners. 

Nelson sank upon them, then stiffened, for his outflung hand hadencountered a hard, familiar outline. It was a . 45 automatic pistol. 

A moment's furious search revealed that the captors had missed or notunderstood the use of the weapon in Alden's leather flying coat. 

"God, but we're lucky, " Nelson panted. "The Atlanteans never saw thispistol of yours. They're only used to my rifle. "

Hope lit Alden's features, then faded. "But what good is a . 45against brutes like those? Might at well have a pop gun!"

"Still we're lucky, " grunted Nelson, delighted to find the magazineyet filled. "Can't tell what's ahead. Yes, we're the luckiest--"

He broke off in quick alarm. From overhead had come a premonitoryclang! Somewhere a tackle whined and, with a sense of suffocation, both men realised that now the bars of _their_ prison were beginningto creep up into a long slit in the stone ceiling!

Cold fingers of fear clutched Nelson's heart as the terribleallosauri, their jaws yet dripping redly, wheeled about at thefamiliar sound--to stand listening. Up and up crept the ponderousgrille, while the allosauri commenced to shuffle forward, fixing ontheir next victims enormous, unblinking green eyes. 

 * * * * *

While the whole loathsome cell spun about, Victor Nelson forced stifffingers to throw off the safety catch as the nearest allosaurus openedits cavernous mouth in anticipation, displaying an array of curvedteeth, as long and sharp as bayonets. Standing some fifteen feet highat the shoulder the horrible creature's body was; it all but blottedout the light. The bars rose inexorably. Now they were waist high. .. . Now above Nelson's head. .. . In a moment would come the rush. 

Richard Alden stood up straight and squared his shoulders. "Good-by, Vic, " he said, in clear, unafraid tones. "I don't imagine that . 45will even tickle those ghastly brutes. "

Nelson nodded. "All over but the cheering, " he replied with thatstrange, macabre humor which often comes to solace men about to die. 

"See you in church. " There was an equally gallant lightness to Alden'sreply. 

The dark haired pilot, with a curious, detached sense of unreality, stepped into the middle of the room, the automatic in his hand seemingno more potent than a water pistol, for a ponderous, lambent eyedmonster was now hopping forward. While minute particles of dust anddirt rained down from the disappearing barrier, the foremostallosaurus opened its enormous jaws, uttered an eery scream andcharged straight at the unbarred cell. 

Drawing a deep breath, Nelson raised the . 45, sighted, and, remembering his former experience, fired at the enormous right eye. Asin a dream, he felt the recoil. The monster neither slowed nor swervedin the least, though its great, saucer-like eye disintegratedhorribly. Immediately Nelson swiftly sighted at the other eye andfired, just as the allosaurus' shadow filled the threshold. 

_Crack!_ A swirl of bitter smoke stung the aviator's staring eyes. He'd hit; he knew it!

 * * * * *

Cyclopean moments followed as the blinded monster dashed forward, missed the circular door, and, butting his head against the stone wallto the left, fell completely stunned, effectively blocking the doorwaywith its huge body. One enormous hind leg, fully ten feet long, andequipped with three razor-like claws, projected into the cell andlashed aimlessly back and forth, forcing the two prisoners to dodgewildly. 

There ensued that indescribable kind of a moment when men go mad. Outside the cell the ravenous herd pounced upon their fallen mate andwith hideous grunts and snarls promptly commenced to tear it apart. The shaken prisoners realized that the rending jaws would before longundoubtedly remove the temporary obstacle; but meanwhile the hideoushissing and the fetid stench of the allosauri breath made the cell amad-house. 

Gradually, the gigantic carcass at the door commenced to quiver androll violently under the ferocious tugs of the eager feasters. A gapof light appeared over the huge haunches, and, all at once, anotherof those terrible heads slipped over the carcass and into the cell. 

Again the . 45 thundered, lighting the darkened cell with a brieforange flame. A noise like the furious trumpeting of a dozen elephantsnearly blew Nelson flat as the wounded monster drew back its head, butthe respite promised to be short, for the other reptiles onlyre-doubled their horrid, cannibalistic rending of the carcass. Whenthe barrier was removed there would be a general rush which the shakenaviators could not hope to stay. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly, Alden uttered a low shout and pointed to the small, ovaldoor which had, up to this point, remained securely bolted and shut. It was swinging gradually open, rimmed with a strong reddish light. 

Wide-eyed, and with black hair streaming lank over his forehead, Nelson, in the act of reloading, swung about to meet this new menace. Hell! What point was there in prolonging the pitiful struggle? Whatwas happening?

Slowly, the door swung back, and a rosy glow lit the opening, a glowthat became as strong as the gleam of a spotlight. Then, slowly, aglittering, green-crested helmet of highly polished bronze appeared, and, under it, Hero Giles' familiar features, now distorted by aterrible fear. The blue eyes seemed enormous. "Quickly!" he called. "Quick or ye are lost!"

Unbelieving of the reprieve, both the aviators stared an instant atthat martial figure clad in brazen armor liberally studded withenormous diamonds and emeralds, then leaped forward with the speed ofdesperation, for from behind came a fierce squalling from theallosauri. As he darted towards the door Nelson had a glimpse of thecarcass blocking the door commencing to slip sidewise. 

Alden was already out and Nelson sped through the door barely in timeto escape the razor-sharp talons of the foremost allosaurus as itscrambled into the deserted cell with a resounding bellow ofdisappointed fury. 

CHAPTER VIII

As the door clanged shut, drowning out the allosauri's furiousscreams, both aviators, shaken to the depths of their beings, could donothing but stare about them in surprise. Completely surrounding andprotecting the exit stood a double rank of hoplites in bronze armor. Like unreal automata, they remained utterly motionless, fixed in thevarious postures of an ancient Macedonian phalanx, their broad backsgleaming dully in the light of the neon flares. As in a dream, Nelsonrecognized on top of each spearsman's casque the graceful Atlanteanmilitary crest--a metal dolphin from the back of which sprouted aseries of bright blue feathers, arranged like a dorsal fin. 

"Thank Poseidon, ye still live!" cried Hero Giles, gripping theirhands eagerly. "I had fear for ye, oh my friends. "

Nelson grinned. "You cut the rescue act pretty fine, but of coursewe're damned grateful. And now, "--eagerly seizing the Hero'ssplendidly muscled arm--"in God's name tell us what's happened. Why wewere arrested and--nearly made into allosaurus fodder?"

Hero Giles turned from snapping an order to a subaltern who waspeering down a great, shadowy hallway with a distinctly uneasy manner. 

"Much, " he said. "Scarcely had ye two departed from Heliopolis thanthe priests, mad with rage over Altara's continued captivity, dared toseize the person of His Splendor and proclaim a regency. Herakles, thearch-priest is--"

 * * * * *

From far down the gloomy, vaulted corridor came a faint sound, ratherlike the distant cheering of a crowd. The hoplites, standing about, turned their helmeted heads and stared uneasily, their brazen armorglowing dully with each movement. 

"I'll tell ye more later, but now--"--Hero Giles' voice took on aringing quality like the clash of steel--"there is work to be done. Torescue ye, oh Hero Nelson, I slew the guards at the lower gate, forthis prison lies in the hands of a caitiff rogue, Hero Edmund, one whoclings to the priestly party. We had best be off lest we be trappedand slaughtered like rats in a pit. "

Very distinctly to the ears of the aviator now came the dull clash ofequipment and the tread of feet. 

"Forward! We must hasten to reach the podokos waiting below, " criedHero Giles, settling his ponderous helmet more squarely on his leoninehead. 

At once the escort of fifteen-odd hoplites commenced to move down thecorridor to the left, their hands tightly gripping the butts of theirretortii pistols. At their head ran Hero Giles, and by his side Aldenand Victor Nelson, who gripped his . 45 vowing never again to return tothat ghastly cell. 

A long ringing cry from the rear brought home the dread realizationthat the enemy had appeared. Looking back, Nelson could see the farend of the great corridor filled with menacing figures. Then his heartleaped like a deer in a thicket, for _from ahead_ sounded the clash ofweapons! The rescue party's retreat was cut off!

 * * * * *

Hero Giles acted with the speed of a veteran accustomed toemergencies. "Forward!" he roared, making the bare walls reverberateand rumble with his voice. "_Halor vàn! Ula Storr!_"[1]

[Footnote 1: Make ready for your retortii. ]

As by magic, there appeared before the retreating force a double rankof blue-crested hoplites who debouched from a side passage into thehall and clawed desperately for fungus bombs and retortii. Evidentlythey had not expected to come upon the invaders so abruptly. 

"_Storr!_" Like a brazen trumpet's call, the voice of Hero Giles rangout the order to fire--which was instantly drowned out in the furioushissing of the retortii of his followers. 

Ever watchful, Nelson fired at a gigantic officer who, avoiding thefirst steam jets, flung back his arms to hurl one of the deadly fungusbombs among the rescuers. Shattering the bronze helmet, the American'sbullet struck the Atlantean squarely between the eyes, butnevertheless the stricken officer's grenade rolled forward and burstamong the hindermost of Hero Giles' followers. Instantly, the deadlygreen mold flung itself upon the nearest hoplites and in a moment theycrashed to the smooth granite floor, the yellowish growths alreadysprouting from nose, mouth and ears. 

In the corridor reigned chaos, for Hero Giles' followers were nowturning the full fury of their retortii upon the rank of men barringfurther flight. With dreadful ease, the scalding steam struck dead theopposing warriors, stripping the flesh from their bones as easily as aboy peels a banana. 

Amid the swirling white clouds, Nelson had ghastly visions of yellowskulls, of steaming accoutrement, of limp heaps of disintegratingbodies; then silence fell, and, before he quite realized it, he, together with Alden and three hoplites who had survived the disastrousfungus grenade, were bounding along after Hero Giles' glitteringfigure as he led the way down one passage after another. 

 * * * * *

Louder than ever rang the fierce cry from the rear. Behind him Nelsoncould see dozens upon dozens of yelling pursuers, and knew that if hewere to live he must run as never before. 

Into a succession of spacious rooms dashed the fugitives; on throughdeserted armories where hundreds of bronze helmets dangled in orderlyrows; and across silent barrack halls. 

Closer and closer sounded the pursuing feet, spurring the runners toan even more headlong gait. 

All at once a door loomed to the right; into this darted Hero Gilesand after him pounded the two Americans and three hoplites. In aninstant the six men set their shoulder to the ponderous bronze doorand swung it to, just as the hiss of a retortii on the other side roseabove the mad, blood-hungry clamor of the momentarily baffled rebels. Gasping and sweat-bathed, the fugitives paused only an instant. 

"We've gained a short passage, " gasped the Atlantean wrenching off hishelmet and breast plate. The veins stood out in great blue cords onhis forehead, for the weight of the armor could not have beeninconsiderable. "Below wait our podokos. "

Nelson stripped off his leather coat, following the example of thehoplites, who swiftly divested themselves of such cumbersome equipmentas could readily be removed. Then, while the shouts of the thwartedpursuers swelled like a demonic chorus, and while feathers of steamcrept under the great door, Hero Giles spun about and, with his shortyellow hair gleaming bright, led on down another series of passages. 

 * * * * *

All at once the fugitives, now reduced by exhaustion to five, foundthemselves on a balcony overlooking the great valley of Atlans. Beforethem opened an enormous staircase and down this they dashed at topspeed, infinitely relieved to be once more in the open air. 

Running like hunted stags, the fugitives had descended but a third ofthe great staircase, when, from behind, came a sudden, menacing crythat warned Nelson that the pursuers had, after going a longer wayaround, come once more in sight. 

"Ah! Poseidon blast the traitorous Edmund and his varlets! See?"panted Hero Giles pointing to a huge arch from beneath which wasissuing a glittering column of shouting, swift running warriors atwhose head dashed a splendidly-proportioned figure that must be HeroEdmund. 

With the speed of the hunted, Hero Giles bounded forward, taking threeand four steps at a stride, his jade green cloak snapping out behind. Down, ever downwards over the endless flight of stairs the aviatorsfollowed him until, spent and panting, the hard pressed five plungeddown a final circular staircase and so gained a courtyard where waiteda detachment of armored lancers whose yellow plumes and pennons shonebright in the glare of the flame suns. Staring anxiously upwards, thetroopers nevertheless stood to attention in an orderly rank besidethose curious Atlantean mounts called podokos. 

During all his sojourn in Atlans, Nelson had never become used to thehideous and awe-inspiring podokos which closely resembled theallosauri but were only eighteen feet long. Like the other monsters, they had tremendously developed hind legs which promised the speed nowso vital for escape and safety. Ready in the tooth-studded jaws ofeach podoko was fitted a bronze bit together with a bridle and reins;and cinched up on each creature's back was one of those curiousAtlantean saddles, which was built up at the cantle to overcome thedownward slope of the podokos' spines. 

Need for vital haste was but too obvious and, as he drew near, HeroGiles gasped the command to be off. 

"Quick, " he shouted, his scarred visage flushed and sweat-bathed. "Saddles! Speed! Speed! Cling fast as your beasts arise!"

 * * * * *

All five literally hurled themselves into gorgeously caparisonedsaddles. Instantly, the urging squatting podokos leaped to their feet. 

It was the work of a moment for Nelson to wrench his reptile around, for already Alden and the Atlantean cavalrymen were speeding acrossthe wide paved court, their lance pennons fluttering bravely in theorange-hued glare. 

At top speed the rescuers dashed for a great, oval gateway while thepodokos increased their gait; like aero-planes gathering speed, thefaster the weird creatures traveled, the higher arose their tails. 

Then, following the frightened, backward glances of the hard-riding, red-haired lancers, Nelson suddenly discovered a new and terriblecause for this headlong flight, for, issuing from an unbarred gateway, came perhaps a dozen of _the terrible and enormous allosauri_, which, spying the fleeing cavalry, instantly gave chase. 

With a sense of despair, the aviators heard the ferocious bellowsbooming from behind and watched the appallingly swift progress ofthose uncouth monsters as, leaping high into the air, the allosauricovered between fifty and sixty feet at a single bound. 

"They'll get you, " cried an inner voice in Nelson's being. "They'llcatch you sure. " But the small and lithe podokos, sensing deathleaping up from the rear, stretched out their slender, snake-likeheads, stood on tiptoe, and, pressing their small forelegs tightagainst their chests, commenced to run far faster than any horse couldgallop. Nevertheless, the allosauri came bounding up like colossalkangaroos, uttering weird, screaming roars that brought a chill ofimminent death to the fugitives. 

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, Nelson's blood froze to findan allosaurus not more than seventy yards behind, and making terribleexertions to close that slender gap! Nearer and nearer coursed theincredible monster, body rocking in its terrific stride, dreadful jawswide apart--jaws that could, without an effort, cut a horse in half. 

 * * * * *

A fear such as he had never known racked Nelson's consciousness as hefound he was hindermost of the cavalcade, which was strung out like afield of racers. The other riders crouched low in their saddles likejockeys, lances held straight out before them, and furiously goadedtheir strange mounts with curious hooks. Nelson was vastly relieved toget a glimpse of Alden far in the lead, almost beside the AtlanteanPrince. His podoko was evidently better than the average. 

Faster and faster pursuers and pursued raced across level meadows, over straight, white roads and rolling grain fields. Wind whistledmadly in Nelson's ears, filled his eyes with tears, and made hisshort, dark hair snap, but two huge allosauri were now not twentyyards behind and _gaining with appalling speed!_

On the verge of madness, Nelson hammered his heels into the podoko'sscaly side and wished he dared let go the saddle horn to draw hispistol, but to loose his grip was to risk falling off. 

Closer and closer! Two enormous nightmarish heads were actuallysnapping at the fleeing podoko's tail. Then fear must have inspiredthe reptile Nelson bestrode, for it put on a sudden desperate burst ofspeed which carried it past the next two lancers. In passing heglimpsed the doomed wretches, pale-faced and horrified, as theyfrantically goaded their failing podokos. 

A moment later, piercing screams from just behind assailed Nelson'sears, but when he looked to the rear once more it was to find that awide gap had opened between him and the great monsters behind. Evidently, the heavy-built allosauri were unable to long maintain theterrific pace set by the smaller and more agile podokos whose maximumspeed Nelson judged to be well over sixty miles an hour. 

 * * * * *

The pilot's eyes narrowed on beholding, in clear relief and not faraway, the majestic, whitish outline of mighty Heliopolis, whose loftytowers, graceful domes and frowning citadels shone pink under theleaping, blinding glare on Mount Pelion. 

"We certainly picked a nice time to drop in on this God-forsakencountry, " grunted Alden as the walls of Heliopolis loomed near. "Weseem to have crashed into the busiest days they've had in centuries. How many shots you got?"

Nelson, swaying to the steady trot of his podoko, hesitated. 

"Only five. Damned if I know what's going to happen next. I suppose itall depends on Hero Giles. Looks as though the nobles were bent onrestoring Altorius--if he's not dead by now. "

Alden tugged powerfully at the strange bridle which controlled hisbeast. "The priests wouldn't dare kill him, but it surely looks liketheir rebellion has gained a lot of headway. "

A moment Alden's clear, blue eyes swept the towering battlements, gorgeously-sculptured temples and curious stepped pyramids, which nowloomed near at hand and cast their rugged outlines sharp against thecopper-colored heavens. 

"Maybe there's some way we can work this revolution trouble to helpus, " suggested Nelson, without enthusiasm. "If we could play off onecrowd against the other--"

His remarks were cut short as the foremost lancers slowed before anenormous bronze gate looming ahead. On the vast main panel was abeautifully-wrought dolphin curling about a trident--symbol of theimperial power now so sorely tried. Beyond that gate, breathlesslymused Nelson, lay Heliopolis and an unknown fate. 

CHAPTER IX

It would have taken no trained eye to observe that something veryunusual had happened in Atlans. Some of Heliopolis' many wide streetswere quite deserted save for several small, bright-red cat-likereptiles that the Atlanteans sheltered as pets, but in otherthoroughfares large throngs of people milled uneasily about, whilelistening to the impassioned harangue of black-robed priests. Everywhere business was at a standstill, shops were closed and marketstenantless. 

Riding at an easy hopping gallop, the aviators urged their green, scaly mounts to the side of Hero Giles, for here and there somewandering citizens, spying the Americans, would yell shrill curses andshake their fists. Reining in, Nelson demanded to know the reason forthis unaccountable hostility. 

"'Tis the work of our gentle and holy priests, " explained Hero Gileswith a hard laugh. "They have told the populace ye are magiciansseeking to set other gods above Poseidon. "

"Nonsense, " rapped the American, looking about uneasily. "We've nevergiven two thin damns about anything except getting back to our plane. "

"So I know, " was the Atlantean's preoccupied reply; "but this spawn ofHerakles' temples speak loud, and the loutish populace hearkens totheir lies!"

"But what the devil is all this revolt about?" broke in Alden. "Whywere we arrested? You started to tell us at the prison. "

 * * * * *

Hero Giles frowned as he pulled his podoko into a gracefully carvedgateway of green marble. "There's but little to add, for 'tis all verysimple. The priests have laid impious hands on His Splendor, Altorius, and imprisoned him in the great temple of Poseidon. We nobles havedefied the arch-priest, for the dog-conceived Jereboam alreadymarshals his forces for a fresh attack, knowing that Atlans is sorebeset by internal strife. Have patience for now we go to the councilchamber, where ye shall hear everything. "

To say that the newcomers found the council of nobles in a furorewould be to put it mildly. Their angry voices carried far down thebeautifully ornamented corridors of the Imperial Palace, which wasused as headquarters. 

"Sounds like a dog-fight going on in there, " muttered Alden anxiously. "Don't like the sound of it a bit. I hope they feel kindly towardsus. "

Nelson, swinging along with his ragged shirt fluttering like ascarecrow's, nodded. "Yes, so do I. But I guess they need our help orHero Giles wouldn't have risked his life to save us. "

Conscious of the value of appearances, the dark-haired aviatorunconsciously straightened his frayed black tie, buttoned the sleevesof his khaki flannel shirt and otherwise made pathetic attempts atimproving his appearance as the clamor of wrangling voices grew louddown the corridor. 

His wide shoulders swinging to his stride, Hero Giles flung open adoor, beautifully wrought with leaping podokos, and halted on thethreshold. 

"Death!" rumbled a voice from inside. "I say death to the Wanderers!Let us make our peace with the priests, lest they slay His Splendorforthwith. "

"And that's what I call a nice friendly greeting, " was Alden'smurmured comment. "Better get your gat handy, Vic. I'll bet they'vegot a reception committee of retortii men behind the door. "

 * * * * *

There was no time for Nelson to reply because now the threshold was athand. Inside, seated at a table, he had an impression of perhaps tenor fifteen scarred and angry-looking veteran nobles whose green cloaksand bejeweled armor revealed their high rank. 

In mid-dispute they halted, eyeing the three figures in the doorwaywith curiously conflicting expressions. Some smiled a relievedwelcome, some stared in surprise, but not a few greeted the Americanswith lowering brows and angry, threatening eyes. 

"Harken, " Hero Giles greeted them. "By Poseidon's grace the Wandererswere saved from a vile death. Rise Heroes, and bid them welcome!"

"Ah, the Wanderers!" In an instant Hero John was wringing Nelson'shand. "Oh blessed hour! I had feared for ye both. Welcome, HeroAlden!"

A faint flush crept over the young man's wan and trouble-lined face. "'Tis well ye've come, " he whispered. "The council was prepared tochange their intent towards ye. "

A grizzled, one-eyed prince arose, and leveling an accusing forefingerat Nelson shouted, "'Tis he hath caused the rebellion. Slay him!"

"Nay!" thundered the Hero Giles, "and forget not, Hero Paul--_I_ amsenior Prince of Atlans!"

 * * * * *

In the great white marble council chamber silence fell, while fromwonderfully carved ivory and gold chairs the harassed, yellow-beardedprinces regarded the two uneasy Americans. 

"Hearken, Hero Giles!" rasped another dark-browed officer in a plain, much-dented red breast plate. "I side with Paul. Away with them, Isay! Time is too precious. Do not the dark hordes of Jereboam beatback our frontiers?"

Hero Giles glowered and sat bolt upright in his chair--a strangedisordered figure among his gorgeously robed and armored peers. "Thouwert ever a hothead! I prithee pause a moment! Remember how thedark-haired Wanderer once aided our imprisoned Emperor, whom Poseidonprotect! Perchance, Hero Nelson and his friend once more can aid us inthis, our hour of need. "

A chorus of variously opined voices broke out, while Nelson with aneye to possible violence stood ready. 

"Silence! Sirrah!" The fierce old veteran banged a powerful fist on agolden dolphin head forming his chair arm. "This idle wranglingaccomplishes naught, and a thousand weighty matters await ourattention. Is it true the phalanxes at Tricca have risen for thepriests?"

 * * * * *

[Illustration: _Map of Jarmuth and Atlans_]

Before Hero Giles could reply, a stalwart guard at the door flung itopen to admit a dust and sweat-bathed courier who, darting forward, flung himself at Hero Giles' no less dusty feet. While theyellow-haired Prince started back muttering in amazement, the runnerraised a shaking hand. 

"Woe, woe to Atlans!" he panted. "Jarmuthian retortii men have crossedthe boiling river. Cierum is fallen! Its garrison is drenched inclouds of fungus gas. But a handful escaped!"

"Speak on: is that all?" A terribly intent expression crept over theaquiline faces around the council table. 

"Nay, spare thy servant!" begged the green kilted courier, raisingsweaty, imploring hands. "I--I dare not--"

"Speak!" snarled Hero Giles, his blue eyes terribly lit. "Speak!--elsethy carcass shall be flung to the pteranodons. "

Wild-eyed, the fellow blinked fearfully about. The grim-lipped noblesedged closer. Nelson, realizing all that lay at stake, watchedintently, conscious that Alden was now by his side. 

"I--I, Her Sacred Holiness, Altara--. " The messenger's red facetwitched and he choked as in terror. 

"Altara!" The name reechoed weirdly from a dozen dry throats, andNelson saw the skin suddenly pale and tighten over Hero John's face. 

"What of the divine Altara, fool?" he thundered in a dreadful, shakenmonotone. "Have those foul swine of Jarmuth dared--?"

"Forgive, oh Hero!" cried the groveling courier, his long red hairsweeping the marble floor. "The dog-sired Jereboam hath madeproclamation in Jezreel that the Sacred Virgin is doomed to perish onthe altar of Beelzebub, their demon god, in two days' time!"

"What?" The great marble-walled chamber was shaken by an unearthlyoutcry as horror and rage struggled for mastery in the circle of tensefaces surrounding the momentarily forgotten aviators. 

Bedlam broke loose, while Hero Giles sat as though stunned, staring onthe shivering runner at his feet. 

Nelson, very much on the alert, could see that the announcement ofAltara's impending death had produced nothing short of a cataclysm inthe plans of the council. 

 * * * * *

Like men paralyzed by electric shocks, the yellow bearded veterans andnobles sat stupefied, frozen in their last gesture. Then, in the midstof their silent despair, came the sound of a curious, high-pitchedhorn that had in its note something of the eery wail of a fire siren. The effect was magical, for the nobles sprang up, hands on sword hiltsand eyes searching the corridor. 

"The priests!" gasped a short, broad-shouldered noble at Altorius'left. "By Poseidon! 'Tis the fanfare of the Herakles himself. "

Then indeed did the council glower, for, as Nelson soon learned, Herakles was the moving spirit and evil genius of that priestly partywhich had dared to imprison the Emperor. 

Again the horn wailed its warning of the arch-priest's approach, whereat a stalwart hoplite in green painted armor clanked in, salutedstiffly and waited for Hero Giles' instructions. 

"Bid the old man enter, " directed the Prince at last. "Tell thegraybeard he has naught to fear if he comes alone. Otherwise, bid himreturn to his kennel in the temples. "

A moment after the hoplite had vanished, there appeared in the doorwaya tall, emaciated old man on whose silvery head was set a curiousgolden mitre ending in the shape of a wondrously bejewelled trident. The curious Americans noted that the arch-priest's robes were as blackas his evilly glittering eyes, and were embroidered with curiouscabalistic symbols done in silver thread. In his withered handHerakles carried a ceremonial trident--the mark of the Head Priest ofPoseidon. 

As though wary of advancing, the arch priest paused in the doorway, not three feet from where Nelson stood poised for action. 

 * * * * *

All at once the gaunt figure in black raised thin hands to the domefar overhead and cried in high-pitched prophetic tones:

"Woe to Atlans! When perishes Altara, virgin of Poseidon the God-head, then shall a darkness fall on Atlans! Her cities shall be cast down, there will be a weeping and wailing in the land, for Beelzebub and hisfollowers shall prevail! Woe to Atlans and woe to ye all, blasphemousnobles!"

Gripped by a superstitious awe, the generals and nobles fell into anuneasy silence, fearfully lowering their eyes and then glancingaskance at the plain khaki clad figures standing alert in theircorner. 

Nelson, defiantly meeting their eyes, beheld Hero Giles staringfixedly before him, his powerful shoulders bowed as though bearing anoverwhelming burden. 

Deeper grew the silence of disaster while the American furiouslysearched his mind for some means of thwarting the death in store forhim and his companion. By chance, a word of Hero Giles recurred, the"pteranodons. " What in the devil was a pteranodon? He turned sidewiseto Alden who stood, hands in the pocket of his leather jacket, alsothinking deeply. 

"Dick, " he whispered. "You studied paleontology at college. Do youremember what a pteranodon was?"

"A what?" The younger aviator seemed to make a definite effort toreturn to the present. "A pteranodon? I'm not sure, Vic, but I thinkit was a kind of flying reptile related to the pterodactyl group. "

 * * * * *

He could go on no further, for Herakles, the arch-priest, raised hissnowy head suddenly, his eyes blazing. "To save Atlans in her hour oftrial, we demand that ye deliver to us the Wanderers. They shall dieas an offering to Ares, God of War. Perchance he will preserve us. "The arch-priest's deep-set and glittering eyes swept with venomoushatred the two calm-featured aviators, who looked very plain andunromantic in their flying jackets and khaki serge. "We, familiars ofthe Gods, herewith demand that the blasphemers perish on the War God'saltar! Else shall ye all die unbeloved of the Gods!"

"And we do your bidding, will ye give us back His Splendor?" demandedHero Giles. 

"Nay--we priests do not bargain like hucksters. "

Risking all, Nelson muttered a swift aside to Alden. "How big werethose pteranodons?"

"Some species had a wing spread of twenty-five feet. "

The muscular pilot's mouth closed into a firm, colorless line as henodded and glanced at the vindictive old man who was by now white withfury. 

Up sprang a good three-quarters of the nobles present and turned onthe grim figure at the head of the board. 

"Surrender the Wanderers!" they shouted. "We demand it!"

 * * * * *

In another instant the death sentence would have been forced on HeroGiles, but Victor Nelson leaped forward, pistol menacing the raginggray-bearded priest. 

"Listen, all of you!" he shouted in deep tones that were strangelyauthoritative. "Beware, foolish Princes, how you threaten us. Great isour knowledge and power: you've seen that already. Even now, the otherWanderer and I can save or ruin Atlans, as we wish! Have ye forgottenthe battle by Lake Copias?"

The Princes, furious at the American's defiance, half rose, hand onsword hilt, but sank back at a swift, menacing gesture from Nelson'spistol. 

"What sayest thou, mad fellow?" screeched the arch-priest, his blackeyes bright as knife points. "Save Atlans--?" Fierce questioning wasin his sombre, sunken eyes. 

"I said, " repeated Nelson, "that, if we choose, we can yet save yourAltara and the Emperor from death. "

"Impossible! He is mad!" shouted Paul, the one-eyed Hero. "Not theGods themselves could rescue Altara from the claws of the demonBeelzebub!" The nearest nobles flung themselves back in their chairsand snarled threats of all kinds as they gripped their sword hilts. 

Sensing an inescapable climax, the khaki-clad American raised hispistol, covering Hero Paul, the speaker. "Silence!" he rasped. "You're a thick-headed idiot not to see the truth. Can this priestsave Altara? No! You know damned well he can't! And yet you'd have uskilled. "

"Now, Herakles, " he swung on the priest, "about this Altara matter--ifyou'll restore Altorius unharmed, guarantee our safety, and punishthose liars who condemned us to death, the other Wanderer and I willundertake to not only prevent the sacrifice of Altara, but to bringthe Princess back as well!"

 * * * * *

To all this Alden listened with increasing and indescribable dismay, his blue eyes round as marbles. "My God!" he whispered in anundertone. "What in the devil is Vic doing? _Undertake_ is _right_, the crazy fool!"

"How will ye accomplish this mad boast?" demanded the arch-priest indeep suspicion. "Know ye that the Sacred Virgin lies captive in thedungeons of the great temple of Beelzebub? Know ye that this temple isin the center of Jezreel, capitol of Jarmuth?"

"I had some idea that was the case. "

"Know ye, " continued, the graybeard priest, "that Altara is everguarded by two thousand picked priests and warriors? Know ye, moreover, that this vile sacrifice will be made but two days hence?"

The aviator's lean, dark head inclined with a serenity he far fromfelt. 

At this point the scarred veteran officer who had spoken before brokein, his face menacing. "Believe not this liar, oh Hero Giles! Hespeaks with a tongue made bold by fear. He promises that which hecannot accomplish!"

Had Victor Nelson had time to reflect upon the weirdness of the planhe had evolved, he would probably have silently admitted that hisgrizzled accuser was more than a little justified, but as it was hesmiled serenely. 

From all sides rose a threatening shout. "Let the blasphemers besacrificed. Ares will protect us!"

 * * * * *

His yellow brows knit, Hero Giles wavered, but as he hesitated thereran through a great circular window a distant yet menacing shout. "Down with Altorius, the Unlucky! Down with the sons of Hudson! Giveback to the ancient Gods their Sacred Virgin. Hail to Ares! Death tothe Wanderers! Death! Death!"

Drowning out these ominous cries there came from below the window thebrazen clang of trumpets and the clank of many armored men hurryingforward. Presently the mob's outcry grew fainter, but still the criesof "Death" could be heard. 

It was a tense moment. Would Hero Giles remain friendly? With poignantanxiety, Nelson watched that dishevelled martial head sink forward inperplexity. 

"Hero Giles, " he warned, in a low voice. "You'd better trust us. You're risking nothing. "

Slowly, the fierce blue eyes of the veteran rose, and, meeting thelevel gray ones of the aviator, lingered there as though asking aquestion. Suddenly reaching a determination, he rose to his feet andaddressed the triumphantly grinning arch-priest, who tightly clutchedhis trident wand with thin, blue-veined fingers. 

"Hearken, black crow of a priest, who has dared lay foul hands on HisSplendor, the Emperor. This is my reply: show me how ye will rescueAltara; otherwise begone! My hand itches for the sword. "

 * * * * *

A deep silence fell while Herakles glowered helplessly, then shrewdlyavoided the trap. "This is blasphemy!" he croaked and raised aquivering forefinger in solemn warning. "Woe to thee, Hero Giles. Woeto the people! Fear the wrath of the Gods!

"Jeer not, ye nobles!" Herakles stormed on. "Be not deceived by lies!I bid thee deliver these magicians to Ares, God of War!"

A nasty moment; Nelson's heart drummed as he gazed down at the row ofuneasy, war-like faces, but Hero Giles proved the strength of hisheritage. Back went his patrician head; he drew himself up to fullheight and stared coldly upon the black robed priest, who, nothingdaunted, gave back look for look. 

"Nay! We keep them: they will bear out their promise. I give ye goodday, oh Holiness!"

Quivering with rage Herakles raised his withered hand in anathema. "Then perish, blind spawn of Hudson! Verily shall ye all die under thetorture. Woe! Woe! Woe!"

Then, amid a strained silence, pregnant of distrust and disaster, theold man wheeled and stalked out. 

As he watched the departure, color drained from the Atlantean prince'shaggard features. "Ah, " he observed bitterly, "ever have these blackcrows feasted on our land, and ever as birds of ill omen. " He turnedand, with a weary sigh, surveyed the group of loyal, but anxioussouls. "I thank ye. Will ye still do my bidding and help to save oursovereign lord?"

Out flashed the swords of a dozen-odd nobles as they raised thehoarse, ringing cry of "Altorius! Altorius! Supreme!"

 * * * * *

A little later Nelson, before a very mistrustful gathering composed ofHero Giles, Hero John and two or three other veterans, traced thebarest outline of his plan. 

"You understand? I'm to be taken to the border as a prisoner; then, inplain sight of the enemy lines, the guards must maltreat me and turnme loose. "

The aviator searched one after another of the brutal, war-like faces, while Hero Giles translated for the benefit of two Atlantean generalswho did not speak the royal language. 

"Are you positive, " Alden demanded of Hero John, "that this revolutionin Atlans will die out if Altara is returned?"

"Yes! A thousand times yes!" The prince's fine eyes gleamed withsavage enthusiasm. "With the Sacred Virgin restored to Atlans, newcourage will come into the phalanxes! The priests will cease theiroutcries against them. Then, with the help of the blue maxima vapor, we will rend the dog-begotten followers of Jereboam limb from limb!"

"All right. " Nelson's wiry khaki-clad body bent far over the table. "Remember, Hero Giles, that part of the fighting's up to you. When I'mgone, you'll do exactly what Alden tells you. Now, one thing more:what part of the border is still unquestionably loyal?"

Hero Giles frowned and shrugged his armor-clad shoulders a littlehelplessly beneath the splendid cloak of imperial green. "The godsalone know; but at the third division of this morning, Mayda andThebes still vowed their loyalty. 'Tis there are quartered thephalanxes of the Imperial guards. They alone can I trust to thedeath. "

"All right. " Bending over a huge parchment map of the valley, Nelsonnodded, and his keen black eyes became very serious. "I want you toconcentrate every man you can muster in each of those cities. Meanwhile tell the populace, "--he drew a deep breath--"that Altarawill certainly be returned to them. "

"Art thou sure?" broke in the scarred veteran in the dented breastplate; then, his brow dark with doubt, he engaged Hero Giles and therest in a heated, low-voiced colloquy. 

 * * * * *

Alden stepped near, an anxious frown on his unshaven features. "Thinkthis idea of yours is sure-fire?"

"No, " Nelson's lean head shook. "I'm far from sure. It's a wild gambleat best, but we can't be any worse off than we are now. If the priestswin out, we're sunk and no mistake about it; but there's a fightingchance my idea could be brought off. "

"Now look here, " objected the younger pilot tensely. "What's this rotabout your going into Jarmuth alone? How d'you know they won't skinyou alive once you're over the border?"

"I don't, " admitted his friend, shrugging slightly. "But I don't seethere's anything but to take the risk. If I don't go over there, sureas shooting we're going to feed some damn unpleasant kind of beasthere in Atlans. 

"Another thing, " Nelson said, turning to the Hero who, surrounded bythe others, was bent in deep consultation over a map. "How am I toknow Altara if I see her? Is there a statue, a painting orsomething--?"

The Hero's aquiline features lit in a slow smile. "Nay, we have betterthan that. Come, thou shalt see the Sacred Virgin as she now is. "

The members of the conference followed Hero Giles down a shortcorridor, through a couple of doors and into a chamber where a hugedisc of crystal stood on edge fixed upon an axis above a bewilderingarray of wires, pipes and gauges. 

 * * * * *

Hero John, who seemed familiar with the mechanism, turned a lever, whereupon the disc commenced to spin like a pie plate on a dancefloor. Faster and faster it spun, silently gathering speed each secondwhile a low humming sound filled the chamber. Gradually the outline ofthe whirling disk commenced to brighten, tinting the scar-seamed, craggy features of the Atlantean generals and picking glorious, glowing lights from the jewels on Hero Giles' wonderfully engravedbreastplate. 

"Ah. " Hero John turned a small dial. "The crystal warms. Look, ohWanderers!"

Nelson rubbed his eyes incredulously, for in the heart of theshimmering circle had materialized the outline of a room with walls ofyellow marble. 

"Well, I'm damned!" gasped Alden. "See how it flickers!"

As the revolving disc of crystal gained top speed, the flickeringsubsided and a picture, clearer than most photographs, could be seenin the center. A wondrously slender, yellow-haired young girl clad inGrecian robes of pale blue sat in deep despond upon a plain woodencouch, with a black haired servant kneeling before her, apparentlylacing sandals on her tiny, pink-hued feet. 

"Bring closer the face, " snapped Hero Giles gruffly. 

Gradually the focus changed, like the close-up of a movie camera, until in the center of the madly whirling disc could be seen in minutedetail and living color the face of an indescribably lovely girl. 

"Whew, " muttered Nelson, staring in silent amazement. "No wonder theywant her back! She makes Ziegfeld's little girls look like Armenianrefugees. " He cast a sidewise glance, but Alden had apparently notheard him; the younger American stood gazing with rapturous joy at thegirl. 

"Aye! Aye!" The two veteran generals uttered stifled groans and one ofthem drew a hand across his eyes. "Poseidon save her! Aye! Preservethe fair Altara. "

"Wouldst thou not doubly save her, now?" demanded Hero John in a lowvoice that bespoke his anguish. He seemed suddenly older than thegrim, helmeted veterans to either side. 

"You bet! I guess a man sees a face like that only once is a lifetime. And now, " Nelson continued with an effort to return to the practical, "there's no time to be lost--so I'd just like to take a look at thosepteranodons of yours. "

 * * * * *

A few minutes later, the two aviators found themselves nearing a loftystructure which adjoined the imperial palace. It was constructed alongthe lines of an immense aviary. Between beautiful, glistening Ioniccolumns of white marble, gleamed bronze bars, set at regular intervalsto prevent the escape of the most appalling creatures which could everhave skimmed the air. 

"What in the devil is your idea?" demanded Alden, taken aback. "God, look at the loathsome brutes!"

Some of these huge, flying reptiles were hopping awkwardly over theground picking at bones and refuse littering the floor with longpelican-like bills, which were, however, very much thicker than thoseof pelicans, and set with sharp teeth at least six inches long. 

"Not very pretty are they? Kind of look like huge bats, " commentedNelson thoughtfully. "Wonder if they could be handled?"

"Yes, their wings are leathery. Look at 'em up yonder. " Alden pointedto the roof of that immense aviary where, hanging head downwards likegigantic bats, must have been hundreds upon hundreds of thepteranodons. One of them, whistling oddly, fluttered up to the bars, affording the Wanderers an excellent view of a loathsome head, theback of which ended in a curious sort of horn, that, projectingbackwards, jutted far above its rear. Fierce, vermillion eyes withgreen irises glared at the Americans through the bars, and great wingsof greasy-looking leather fanned a disgusting stench from the interiorof the aviary. 

 * * * * *

"Sweet little things, " was Alden's comment. "God! Imagine having oneof those great things swooping down on you. Hey, Alden, look at thatbig devil over there! He must have a wing spread of thirty feet. Bigas a Moth plane, isn't he?"

For answer the pteranodon clattered its vast beak savagely. One of thegenerals stooped and, catching up a huge slab of meat from a basketnearby, hurled it through the bars into the gaping jaws. 

"What would ye with these creature?" demanded Hero Giles withundisguised curiosity. 

"You'd be surprised. " Nelson was not deliberately rude, but his mindwas wrapped up in the daring project he had evolved. "I want a coupleof the biggest of these caught and set aside in a courtyard wherethere will be no one looking on. If your people can train and handlepodokos and allosauri--I guess a couple of Yanks ought to be able tomanage these flying nightmares. So don't you worry about us. "

Hero Giles uttered grim, significant laugh. "Thou hadst best managethem. I note yonder pteranodon is in need of nourishment. "

CHAPTER X

With sharp anxiety, Victor Nelson kept watching the towers of Jezreelrise ever clearer above the great, warm plain of Jarmuth, but, for allthat, he noted how distinctly Jezreel differed from Heliopolis. TheJarmuthian capital was predominantly amber-yellow instead of white incolor; its towers were flat-topped, angular, hideous structures thatcompared not at all favorably with the graceful Grecian architectureof Atlantean public buildings. 

The populace, he decided, as he strode along in the midst of half adozen silent guards, were as harsh and graceless as theirarchitecture. Whereas the Atlanteans had been white skinned anduniformly red haired--save for those of Hudsonian blood--theinhabitants of Jarmuth almost without exception were black haired andhad dark, olive-hued skins. 

"They're the lost tribes of Israel, all right, " Nelson decided after abrief sojourn in that savage land lying beyond Apidanus--the greatboiling river, whose bubbling and scalding currents had for centuriesserved as a natural boundary between the two realms. But now theJarmuthian armies had crossed it and were steadily pushing back thedemoralized and despairing Atlanteans with savage energy that heapedthe dead in hillocks. 

"Their armor, " mused the ragged, barefoot prisoner, studying hissilent guards, "looks a lot like a Roman legionnaire's, but that sixpointed star on their helmets is pure Semitic. Yes, this sure is anAsiatic outfit. "

His eyes wandered from one fierce, big-nosed infantryman to anotherand noted the splendid physical structure of the majority. Evidentlyhardier, much less refined and luxury-loving than the Atlanteans, these swart warriors disdained robes and other garments. Save forhelmet, armor and brief black kilts, they were quite naked. Like theAtlantean hoplites the infantrymen carried spears, steam retortii andquantities of grenades. 

The country side through which the prisoner passed had a holiday air, for garlands of flowers hung in every doorway, and naked, pot-belliedchildren squatted by the roadside, industriously weaving crowns andstreamers of gay blossoms. 

"Look, Atlantean dog!" commanded the black-bearded leader of theescort. "Let thine infidel eyes gaze upon the mightiest city of theworld. Seest thou yonder Ziggurat which o'er towers all others?"

Nelson raised eyes red-rimmed from sleeplessness and deep anxiety--forthe crafty Jarmuthians had proved unexpectedly unwilling to credit himas the Atlantean outcast and would-be renegade he had pretended to be. 

"Yes, " he said in reply to the English-speaking_jehar's_--captain's--question. "What's it for?"

"'Tis the temple of the almighty Beelzebub, Steam God of Jarmuth. Without his hot breath no wheel would turn, our armies would bepowerless and this land would perish under the ice of the outerworld. " The dark eyed officer's eye fell speculatively upon his boundand dust-covered prisoner. "Perchance, dog of a spy, thou wilt dieduring to-day's fourth division[2] together with Altara, pale daughterof the feeble, false god Poseidon. "

[Footnote 2: The Atlantean day was divided into six divisions of fourhours each; due to the flame suns there was no sunrise or sunset. ]

 * * * * *

This afternoon?

Nelson could not realize that the time had flown so quickly. Fourshort hours separated him from the crisis of his life. A thousanddoubts assailed him. What if Alden or Hero Giles failed in their shareof the great scheme for rescue? Narrowly, the aviator's eye searchedthe great, rich plain, then swept the amber-hued sky where, far abovethe plain, Jilboa, the nearest flame sun, beat off the Arctic chilland darkness. 

The great, black-bearded jehar eased the straps from which wassuspended the brass coil of his retortii. "Aye, " he chuckled, histhick lips parted in a crafty smile. "Ere long will the fair flesh ofAltara grace the ceremonial board of His Exaltation, the King, and hispriests and princes. "

Nelson gasped in horror. The divinely beautiful Altara--butchered formeat like a calf? Grotesque! Ghastly! "What! You eat your prisoners?"He felt sick, nauseated. 

For answer, the swart Jarmuthian raised an enormous hand and dealt thecaptive American a stinging cuff which made his teeth rattle. 

"Peace!" he snarled. "Else I slit thy spying throat ere we pass yonderwalls. "

Fingering a short blue-black beard that was frizzed into tight curlsin the Assyrian manner, the jehar lengthened his stride as the littledetachment clanked into the shadow of a great wall surroundingJezreel, and through a huge gate guarded by two hideous, jackal-headedeffigies. 

Hurrying into the city were throngs of eager men, women and children, interspersed with muscular, black bearded soldiers who castthreatening, baleful eyes on the pale-skinned prisoner. 

 * * * * *

At first the great metropolis of Jezreel seemed boundless, foreverywhere arose tall, massive monuments of yellow marble whosefacades were engraved with Sanskrit characters, thus bearing outNelson's surmise that this was indeed a race of Semitic origin. 

Here and there hurried grey-bearded, vulture-eyed priests oddly garbedin corrupt Occhive and Tyrian regalia. Nelson found it odd to see theTablet of the Laws, which Jarmuth so openly ignored, swaying on theiryellow robed breasts; and none cried out more menacingly nor moreloudly against the limping, wan-faced captive, than these sameecclesiastics, who must have long since forgotten all worship ofJehovah in the foul service of a bestial golden effigy. 

A stone sailed through the air, narrowly missing the American; thenanother, which struck his shoulder. 

"God, what a rough looking crowd, " thought Nelson, as the guards, cursing, held back the screaming mob. "At this rate I won't live toeven reach the temple!"

Every second his life stood in great danger. Unkempt, sloe-eyed womenhurled themselves, shrieking with fury, against the armored chests ofthe guards, who were hard pressed to beat them off with their spearhafts. 

Nelson's one small ray of comfort in this evil hour was the fact thathis . 45 pistol remained untouched in a food wallet. At the border thejehar had cast one contemptuous glance at the weapon, but, no doubtdeeming it some strange culinary tool, he had made no effort to removeit. 

It was a continual struggle for the guards to win their way up a longflight of stairs, for ever the great stream of humanity grew denserand more menacing. 

 * * * * *

Nelson felt a violent sense of revolt grip his being. "I must winfree, " he thought. "If I fail, Alden dies, and--and--" For the firsttime he realised how much he wanted to actually see Altara. Like aclear cameo, an image of her had remained fresh in his memory. Exceptfor her Grecian garments she might have been a lovely, carefreeEnglish or American girl. 

"And these decadent swine would sacrifice her!" The thought wassickening. Yet how could he prevent the pitiful tragedy?

Fortunately, a detachment of troops--tall, sinewy fellows with conicalhelmets, crested with six-pointed stars--reenforced the guards just asclawing hands began to snatch and tug at the prisoner's raggedAtlantean chiton of blue cotton. 

Almost before he realized it, Nelson was dragged inside a great gloomybuilding and into a circular chamber where four eagle-featured elderssat in council beneath the six-pointed star of Sem. On approaching, the jehar in command sank on one knee and in humble salute raised bothhands to the tribunal. 

"A tough looking desk sergeant they've got, " muttered the prisoner tohimself as his eye met the chilling regard of a lean, yellow-facedpriest. "Wonder what I'm booked for?" Idiotically, he recalled beingsummoned before a traffic court, years back. "Guess I don't get offwith vagrancy; it'll probably be everything from speeding to mayhem, with maybe arson and well-poisoning thrown in. "

The deliberations of this ominous court proved to be appallinglyshort. The dour-faced elders merely put their heads together, muttereda few sentences, then straightened up almost immediately. The chiefpriest--he with the yellow face--thrust out his fist and made theimmemorial signal of death by jerking his thumb at the black marblefloor. 

 * * * * *

Before the outraged and astounded aviator could utter a word ofprotest, powerful guards seized and hauled him off down a dark, narrowpassageway in which the fetid prison smell was very strong. Too wiseto struggle against overwhelming odds, yet appalled at the thought ofhis impending doom, Nelson was dragged into a room where four or fivefurtive, enslaved Atlanteans, made dumb by the removal of theirtongues, were engaged in a curious occupation. 

On a bare stone bench, five other Atlantean captives were sitting inmiserable silence. They made a grotesque array, for their heads werecrowned with gay yellow and blue flowers, and the upper half of theirperfectly formed bodies gleamed with an application of asweet-smelling oil. About their wrists and waists were twined fragrantgarlands of yellow roses which hid the leather straps confining theirhands. 

Struggling, Nelson was forced on to the bench, whereupon slaves, skipping to avoid the lash of a scarred, olive-hued slave driver, hurried to wash the newly arrived prisoner's limbs, face and hands. Aweary-looking old slave with sunken, rheumy eyes listlessly pulled theblue chiton from Nelson's broad shoulders, and would have removed thefood pouch had not the prisoner winked vigorously. The ministeringslave glanced swiftly sidewise and, discovering the slave driver'sattention directed to another corner, pulled the upper folds of thechiton over the food pouch and its precious contents, then set a crownof yellow roses more or less askew on the American's head. For all theperil of the situation Nelson could not suppress a fleeting smile asthe phrase, "For I'm to be Queen of the May, Mother, " leapednonsensically into his brain. 

 * * * * *

"Yes, I guess they are getting us all dolled up for a sacrifice ofsome kind. " Nelson's heart began to pound at the thought. Then hefought for self control. It must be a hideously realistic nightmare!He, Victor Nelson, American citizen, a quiet birdman, member of theCaterpillar Club and ex-flight commander of the A. E. F. Was about tobe offered as a sacrifice to some hideous, pagan god? Nonsense! He'dwake up in a minute and hear the drone of a ship on the line. 

He blinked, staring fixedly at a single ray of light that camestreaming in through a small, barred window, then glanced sidewise athis fellow victims, who with Spartan indifference sat waiting for theend of all things. It was no dream!

From the tiny window came the shrill discordant braying of manytrumpets, and a roar like that of a football crowd arose surprisinglynear. In response, the slave driver lashed the gaudily bedeckedsacrificial victims to their feet with vicious cuts of his pliantwhip, and herded them like a drove of calves down a very long passage, lit at intervals by those strange column lamps of incandescent gas. Intheir red glare the doomed six seemed as though already bathed inblood. 

"Must be some crowd of people outside, " muttered Nelson as a greatgale of sound deafened him. Yonder the amber glare of the flame sunsglimmered, and now it was his turn to step into the open!

 * * * * *

On a sort of spiral roadway he paused, breathless, awed, bewildered, for there, eddying restlessly about the bases of towers and other hugestructures, was a great sea of up-turned faces. To his surprise hefound the passage he had followed opened perhaps halfway up what mustbe the great Ziggurat of Beelzebub. He judged the tower's height mustbe immense, for already the crowd was a good hundred feet below. 

"_Zarotoa! Zarotoa! ù Wlanka!_"[3]

Nelson shivered. How terrible was the wild, bloodthirsty clamor ofthat vast throng, when they beheld the six flower-decked prisonersappear upon the circular winding road which led to the lofty andwind-swept summit of the great conical pyramid of the people ofJezreel. 

[Footnote 3: Death to the victims!]

Behind the victims marched perhaps eighteen or twenty spearmengorgeously uniformed in yellow and black painted armor. Theirretortii were plated with gold, and in the center of a star formingthe crest of each helmet was set a diamond large as a hickory nut. 

Preceding the despairing prisoners marched a squad of tall, clean-shaven priests with great gold hoops in their ears. They blewmightily upon long, curved horns, and were followed by perhaps a dozenlithe, posturing girls, half clothed in diaphanous yellow robes. Thesepriestesses swung golden censers which flung bluish clouds of aromaticsmoke high into the humid air above. 

 * * * * *

Up and up, around and around the great tower temple, Nelson wasdragged, while the vast city of Jezreel, palaces, towers, courts, dwellings and all, lay like a great panorama below. Up and up, and thewind grew stronger while Nelson marvelled at the great height of thestructure he was mounting. Immediately in front of him swayed thenaked shoulders of the three captive Atlanteans; he could see rosepetals from their crowns fluttering in the strong warm breeze sweepingthat man-made pinnacle for the worship of a heathen god. 

Despairingly, the American's eyes searched the horizon, to discovernothing but a few great birds wheeling lazily in the bronze-hued sky. Very clearly he could discern three of the flame suns, casting flamehigh from their peaks. 

"Alden!" he groaned. "Oh God, Alden, don't fail me!"

Chilled by the fate in store, he scanned the dark and hostile facesbelow, but found no friendly visage. 

Up and up. The procession was now nearing the summit. 

There were hosts of poignant problems before him, each vital if Altaraand the Empire of Atlans were to be saved; but one primary questionimmediately confronted him. How could he get his hands free? Heventured a few words in English to the stolid Atlantean at his side, whereat the fellow only stared dully and shook his red, flower-crownedhead. 

He next tried to cautiously work loose his hands, but to no avail. Therope of plaited skin binding his aching wrists together was tough asany rawhide. Cursing, he abandoned the effort, and, as his eyes oncemore swept the great bloodthirsty throng below, he felt himself doomedindeed. 

CHAPTER XI

Standing at last on the summit of the great Ziggurat, Nelson foundhimself staring up at the fearsome golden image of the dread demonBeelzebub. The god stood some twelve feet in height and had a hideoushuman face, but, in place of hair and beard, countless golden tubeswrithed in all directions. From the end of one, the puzzled prisonerbeheld several tiny feathers of steam creeping forth, indicating thatthese hairs were a species of steam vent. 

When, with the other captives, he was made to halt near its base, hefurther discovered that the idol sat upon a throne of yellow marble, the sides of which were carved with Sanskrit characters, necessarilyquite meaningless to the doomed aviator. 

In a grim and silent rank before Beelzebub's feet, stood some six oreight priest-executioners bending their black-robed bodies against thestrong wind which swept that ghastly pinnacle. 

Just below the base of the image, Nelson noted several great, coppercoils, no doubt conducting steam from the interior of the Ziggurat. Between the knees of Beelzebub rested a huge, shallow bowl, the use ofwhich puzzled the American not a little, for he saw that the base ofthis ornate receptacle was also wrapped with a number of steam coils. Two great hands, ending in cruel-looking claws, were stretchedhorizontally above the demon's knees, seeming to plead for victims. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly a deep toned brazen gong sounded somewhere below; thetrumpeters blew an ear-piercing note; and, at a gesture from the highpriest, four of the brawny executioner-priests leaped forward, seizedone of the Atlantean victims, hurled him to the stone platform and, inan unbelievably short interval, strapped the shrieking wretch bywrists, elbows, knees and ankles to a long, brass rod. Slung like adead deer from a rail, they lifted the helpless Atlantean, and, whilefive hundred thousand voices roared in acclaim the priests fitted thepole ends into notches above the hands of the idol with the effectthat the idol actually seemed to be clutching its victim. 

Then, from all the pipes composing the hair and beard of Beelzebub, sprang forth hissing spouts of snowy steam which, whipped by therising wind, went whirling madly down the lee of the Ziggurat. At thesame time, from the half open mouth of the demon issued a fearful, screaming howl, a thousand times louder than the whistle of a speedinglocomotive. Deafening and barbaric, it was reechoed from a hundredtowers and battlements. 

A dreadful, exultant well burst from the multitude below as thered-robed priest drew from beneath his garments a sickle-shaped knifethat glittered evilly in the light of the flaming suns. Stillchanting, he stooped and quickly made a deep incision over the heartof the victim. While a piercing, agonized shriek burst from the ashenlips of the doomed Atlantean, his bright life-blood began to splashinto the golden bowl below where, due to the presence of the steamcoils, it swiftly commenced to hiss and bubble. Very quickly the lastscarlet drops had fallen. 

Then while Nelson, sick and horrified, stood watching, the dead bodyon its pole was taken down, unstrapped, and hurled, limp andred-spattered, to the next lower platform where other priests waitedto dismember it for the ceremonial cannibalism soon to follow. 

 * * * * *

In rapid succession two more victims were slaughtered amid theblood-hungry cheers of the Jarmuthian populace. Now the great bowlhissed and bubbled with a generous supply of the dark red fluid, fromwhich rose clouds of evil-smelling steam that fanned the hideousfeatures above. 

From below suddenly arose an excited shout far mightier than any whichhad preceded it, when the executioners, sweating from their exertions, now turned and, spying Nelson, hurried forward. Coincidently, theAmerican's bound hands disappeared beneath the chiton. Squaring hisshoulders, he gripped the pistol, prepared to make a good end. 

"They'll get me, but before I die I'll send at least two or three ofthese devils to hell, " he thought. "Come on--"

But, for an inexplicable reason, the arch-priest beckoned back hissatellites, while roar upon roar of terrific excitement swelled fromthe swarming mob below, and a shout which at last becamedistinguishable bid fair to split the heavens. "Altara! Altara!Altara!"

Slowly, the temporarily reprieved victim's muscles stiffened. Heunderstood. The next victim was to be the fair Altara, sister ofAltorius and Sacred Virgin of Atlans. 

"Altara! Altara!" A rising hurricane of impassioned human voicesthundered the name. 

Suddenly, the desire to live burned doubly strong in the American'sbreast. He must somehow prevent this inhuman catastrophe. But how?How?

Stealing a quick glance over his shoulder, Nelson stifled a groan. Thesouthern horizon remained clear, and put an end to hope. No help! Hemust fight it out to the end alone. 

 * * * * *

A rank of exultant, black-bearded priests now appeared at the head ofthe stairway, then a quartet of olive skinned, semi-naked priestessesjoyfully clashing brass cymbals. 

There came an interval--and Nelson's heart stood still as thereappeared the lovely head and shoulders of her whom he had first seenin the heart of the revolving crystal. Even more fiercely, mad revoltat fate gripped him. 

Through hot, strained eyes the American saw that the stately Altarawas beautiful beyond all possible comparison, and that she seemedutterly unafraid in the hour of her dreadful death. The Atlanteanmaiden's large, clear blue eyes were fixed with calm resignation onthe distant flame sun of Jilboa. On her curling golden hair had beenset a circlet of ceremonial yellow roses, while her white, slenderbody was thinly covered with a scanty robe of yellow silk. 

Slowly, and moving her small bare feet in a regal stride, Altaraclimbed the last few steps and stood straight and unafraid before thehideous demon god of Jarmuth. 

Thousands of frantic inner voices assailed the aviator'sconsciousness. "Save her! You must save her! She's too young, toobeautiful to die!"

Like a vast maelstrom of sound, so swelled the lustful cry of the darkmultitude at the base of the Ziggurat, while the arch-priest chantedhis litany in a sort of triumphant exultation. Then, all at once, oneof the executioners roughly tripped the golden haired girl, sprawlingher helpless on the bloody stones; and, before Nelson could quiterealize it, the slender, silver hued form lay limp and helplessbetween Beelzebub's bloody claws. 

 * * * * *

Like a dynamo furiously gathering speed, so buzzed Nelson's brain. Hewas going to save her--if only for a brief interval! One man against anation. Through a raging mist of fury he saw the red-robed priestraise his lean arms; then the American's bound hands darted beneaththe blue chiton to reappear immediately. No one saw the pistol, forevery eye was rivetted upon the gleaming, sickle-knife of the redpriest. Like a voice from hell, that eery scream burst again fromBeelzebub's throat as his priest stepped near, the knife raised. 

Amid a deafening roar the sickle-knife flashed higher; but it neverfell, for the red priest suddenly reeled, clutched his chest and, staring wildly, staggered sidewise, while the assembled priests staredthunderstruck. The deafening roar of Beelzebub, the clamor of hornsand cymbals had drowned out the report. In superstitious awe theJarmuthians leaped back, panic-stricken, from the convulsivelywrithing body of the red priest, which rolled crazily down the stepsbefore the idol; but a high shout of terror rang out as he toppled offthe summit and, like a discarded puppet, plunged down the precipitousside of the cone-like tower. 

Again Nelson's pistol spat, and two of the executioners collapsed inkicking agony. Like an avenging fury, the American raged about thesummit, the pistol in his bound bands dealing death right and leftuntil panic seized the remaining priests, who, with one accord, abandoned their weapons to rush headlong down the dizzy, windingroadway. In a trice, none but Altara, Nelson, the two Atlanteans andthe fallen priests remained on the summit. 

 * * * * *

It was the work of a moment for the Atlanteans to cast loose Nelson'sbound wrists, and he theirs; time was precious, for, from below, afurious cohort of spearmen were charging up the stairs, their darkfeatures terrible in their wrath. 

"Only four more shots!" The sickening realization dashed into Nelson'sbrain. "That'll never stop them. " Then in the midst of his despair hesaw an answer. Stepping back he fired twice full into the great steamcoil circling the base of the idol. 

_Spang! Spang!_ His bullets smacked through the copper coil topuncture neat, round holes. As he fervently hoped, jets of live steamrushed through these vents with terrible force and bathed the head ofthe stairs with a scalding, blinding vapor. Howling like mad beasts, the agonized Jarmuthian hoplites fell back, while overhead Beelzebubbellowed incessantly, shaking the sky with his hideous voice. 

"That's better. " But Nelson knew his triumph to be brief. "_Where inhell is Alden?_" he raged as with shaking hands be released thebewildered girl from the death bar after the two Atlanteans had liftedit and its fair burden from the claws of Beelzebub. 

Picking up the swords and other weapons of the fallen priests the twoAtlanteans uttered their deep-toned war cry of _Halor vàn!_ andjoyously prepared to die fighting, as furious roar on roar of wratharose from the populace, infuriated at being cheated of their prey. But the black-armored temple guards dared not charge those twin steamjets barring their approach. Accordingly they tried other means. 

 * * * * *

Nelson's heart stopped as a small, dark object sailed up from belowand clattered on the platform. It was a grenade. With the speed ofthought, the American kicked it to the landing below, where itexploded, annihilating a detachment of Jarmuthians by drenching themwith the terrible fungus gas. Heart bounding with savage joy, Nelsonwatched the deadly green fog leap from the broken grenade and of itsown accord settle on the nearest soldiers. With the usual astonishingspeed there formed on the stricken soldiery that poisonous yellowmould, whose fungus-like shoots sprouted through nostrils and mouths. On the dense crowd below the bomb's effect was appalling, and no moregrenades were hurled. .. . 

During the respite Nelson's anguished eyes once more swept the skies. He started. Was it true or was it a mirage? Far to the southward asmall, black speck materialized in the orange-hued heavens. Good oldAlden! Hope wavered in the American's breast. Could he and his twofellows beat off the infuriated Jarmuthians long enough? He doubtedit. 

A shower of spears sailed up, but because of the angle, theirtrajectory was too great, and like rays of death the lances flashedharmlessly overhead to plunge over the summit and wreak death amongthose on the other side. 

Nearer and nearer came the black speck while from the populace a lowshout of amazement arose. Coincidently Nelson's heart stopped; aghast, he saw that the steam was no longer hissing from the holes at theidol's feet! Evidently, the steam current had been shut off from belowto allow the raging priests to lead their followers in a desperatecharge up the stairs. 

Marshalling an Atlantean to either side, Nelson sprang to the head ofthe stair and fired full in the face of gorgeously robed priests whostaggered back screaming. But the others wavered only an instant. 

"_Halor vàn!_" Both Atlanteans hurled spears retrieved from theabandoned weapons--and each struck down his man. 

 * * * * *

The American's eye flickered up. Yes, there came a strange, butwelcome sight: a great creature with enormous, leathery pinions wascircling down towards the tower top! A clashing of weapons broughtNelson's eyes earthwards. He joined in a furious melée at the stairtop, like the Atlanteans, using a captured bronze sword. There came adeep groan as the right-hand Atlantean collapsed with a bloodiedbronze spear point standing far out from between his naked shoulderblades. 

A swooping shadow fell across the slowly advancing attackers. Beholding that awesome creature the Jarmuthians cowered, hesitated;then in headlong panic they darted below, uttering howls of fear andpursued by the surviving Atlantean, who, gone berserk, must haveshortly paid for his folly. 

The pteranodon was now quite recognizable, and seated on a doublesaddle was Alden, skillfully guiding the ungainly monster by means ofa curious bridle, by shifting his weight and by pressing certain nervecenters between the great reptile's leathery shoulders. 

Down, down circled Alden until the great wings skimmed just aboveBeelzebub's ugly golden head. 

Her courage strained beyond endurance, Altara screamed shrilly in fearas Alden guided the huge reptile to the summit and forced it to light. 

"Quick!" shouted Alden. "They're coming back up!"

"All right!" Catching up the fainting girl, Nelson hurdled two orthree fallen bodies, and, while Alden showered fungus bombs upon thereturning Jarmuthians, he laid his precious burden across the saddleand secured her with straps specially designed for the purpose. 

"All right, Dick, " he snapped. "Get going!"

"But you?" Alden's brown face was terribly intent. 

"I'm not going! This creature could never carry the three of us. Itcan't, I tell you! Hurry, those devils are coming!"

Alden folded his arms. "If you don't go, I don't. "

"All right then, " snarled Nelson, vaulting into the saddle aftercasting loose the inert, yellow-robed girl. "Be a damned fool! We'llall die now. "

 * * * * *

It was a near thing, for the pteranodon, scenting the fresh blood, wasvery loath to obey its master, and scuffed awkwardly around the towertop two or three times, while Nelson, clutching Altara to him, expended his last shot in driving back the enemy. 

At last, the pteranodon spread its huge brown pinions and took off. Then Nelson gasped in alarm, for, unaccustomed to the heavy weight itnow bore, the pteranodon scaled earthwards with the speed of a meteor, wildly flapping its bat-like-wings. Down! Down! Nelson had animpression of people scattering like frightened ants. 

Alden cursed, tugged furiously on the bridle, and set his weight backin the saddle, but to no avail. Down! Ever down! The pteranodon nowstruggled among the tall buildings. 

A sickening sense of defeat gripped Nelson as a long jet of steam shotout from a huge brass retortii mounted on the roof of an arsenal. Thescalding fingers of steam just missed its target, but fortunatelyserved to sting the descending pteranodon. With a convulsive shudderand a whistling scream, the hideous reptile commenced to flap itsgigantic wings faster, and, slowly but surely, began to rise over theyellow temples and towers of the barbarous city of Jezreel. 

 * * * * *

What followed is now a matter of Atlantean history. On its pages isset forth in full detail how the giant pteranodon barely crossed theboiling river to sink exhausted in the outskirts of Tricca. 

There, also, is described the series of tremendous battles in whichthe Atlanteans, led by Altorius and inspired by the return of theirSacred Virgin, employed the terrible fungus gas to overwhelm theJarmuthian invaders, driving them back with great slaughter to thesteaming plains of their own land. 

At even greater length is described the great triumph Altoriusaccorded the victorious aviators on the occasion of Victor Nelson'smarriage to Altara. 

"Doth it not seem strange, " she whispered as they stood looking outover the great, sleeping city of Heliopolis, "that thou of the NewWorld and I of the Lost World, should stand man and wife?"

The American's tanned face softened. "My darling, " he whispered, "there are lots of strange things in the new Atlantis--but this isn'tone of them. "

_(The End. )_

The Meteor Girl

_By Jack Williamson_

[Illustration: _She seemed to scream, though we could hear nothing. _]

[Sidenote: Through the complicated space-time of the fourth dimensiongoes Charlie King in an attempt to rescue the Meteor Girl. ]

"What's the good in Einstein, anyhow?"

I shot the question at lean young Charlie King. In a moment he lookedup at me; I thought there was pain in the back of his clear browneyes. Lips closed in a thin white line across his wind-tanned face;nervously he tapped his pipe on the metal cowling of the _GoldenGull's_ cockpit. 

"I know that space is curved, that there is really no space or time, but only space-time, that electricity and gravitation and magnetismare all the same. But how is that going to pay my grocery bill--oryours?"

"That's what Virginia wants to know. "

"Virginia Randall!" I was astonished. "Why, I thought--"

"I know. We've been engaged a year. But she's called it off. "

Charlie looked into my eyes for a long minute, his lips stillcompressed. We were leaning on the freshly painted, streamlinefuselage of the _Golden Gull_, as neat a little amphibian monoplane asever made three hundred miles an hour. She stood on the glisteningwhite sand of our private landing field on the eastern Florida coast. Below us the green Atlantic was running in white foam on the rocks. 

In the year that Charlie King and I had been out of the Institute ofTechnology, we had built the nucleus of a commercial airplanebusiness. We had designed and built here in our own shops several verysuccessful seaplanes and amphibians. Charlie's brilliant mathematicalmind was of the greatest aid, except when he was too far lost in hisabstruse speculations to descend to things commercial. Mathematics ispainful enough to me when it is used in calculating the camber of anairplane wing. And pure mathematics, such as the theories ofrelativity and equivalence, I simply abhor. 

I was amazed. Virginia Randall was a girl trim and beautiful as ourshining _Golden Gull_. I had thought them devotedly in love, and hadbeen looking forward to the wedding. 

"But it isn't two weeks, since Virginia was out here! You took her upin our _Western Gull IV_!"

 * * * * *

Nervously Charlie lit his pipe, drew quickly on it. His face, lean anddrawn beneath the flying goggles pushed up on his forehead, soughtmine anxiously. 

"I know. I drove her back to the station. That was when--when wequarreled. "

"But why? About Einstein? That's silly. "

"She wanted me to give it up here, and go in with her father in hisWall Street brokerage business. The old gent is willing to take me, and make a business man of me. "

"Why, I couldn't run the business without you, Charlie!"

"We talked about that, Hammond. I don't really do much of the work. Just play around with the mathematics, and leave the models andblueprints to you. "

"Oh, Charlie, that's not quite--"

"It's the truth, right enough, " he said, bitterly. "You designaircraft, and I play with Einstein. And as you say, a fellow can't eatequations. "

"I'd hate to see you go. "

"And I'd hate to give up you, and our business, and the math. Reallyno need of it. My tastes are simple enough. And old 'Iron-clad'Randall has made all one family needs. Virginia's not exactly apauper, herself. Two or three millions, I think. "

"And where did Virginia go?"

"She took the _Valhalla_ yesterday at San Francisco. Going to join herfather at Panama. He cruises about the world in his steam yacht, youknow, and runs Wall Street by radio. I was to telegraph her if I'dchanged my mind. I decided to stick to you, Hammond. I telegraphed acorsage of orchids, and sent her the message, 'Einstein forever!'"

"If I know Virginia, those were not very politic words. "

"Well, a man--"

 * * * * *

His words were cut short by a very unusual incident. 

A thin, high scream came suddenly from above our neat stuccoed hangarsat the edge of the white field. I looked up quickly, to catch aglimpse of a bright object hurtling through the air above our heads. The bellowing scream ended abruptly in a thunderous crash. I felt atremor of the ground underfoot. 

"What--" I ejaculated. 

"Look!" cried Charlie. 

He pointed. I looked over the gleaming metal wing of the _GoldenGull_, to see a huge cloud of white sand rising like a fountain at thefarther side of the level field. Deliberately the column of debrisrose, spread, rained down, leaving a gaping crater in the earth. 

"Something fell?"

"It sounded like a shell from a big gun, except that it didn'texplode. Let's get over and see!"

We ran to where the thing had struck, three hundred yards across thefield. We found a great funnel-shaped pit torn in the naked earth. Itwas a dozen yards across, fifteen feet deep, and surrounded with apowdery ring of white sand and pulverized rock. 

"Something like a shell-hole, " I observed. 

"I've got it!" Charlie cried. "It was a meteor!"

"A meteor? So big?"

"Yes. Lucky for us it was no bigger. If it had been like the one thatfell in Siberia a few years ago, or the one that made the Winslowcrater in Arizona--we wouldn't have been talking about it. Probably wehave a chunk of nickel-iron alloy here. "

"I'll get some of the men out here with digging tools, and we'll seewhat we can find. "

Our mechanics were already hurrying across the field. I shouted atthem to bring picks and shovels. In a few minutes five of us were atwork throwing sand and shattered rock out of the pit. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly I noticed a curious thing. A pale bluish mist hung in thebottom of the pit. It was easily transparent, no denser than tobaccosmoke. Passing my spade through it did not seem to disturb it in theleast. 

I rubbed my eyes doubtfully, said to Charlie, "Do you see a sort ofblue haze in the pit?"

He peered. "No. No. .. . Yes. Yes, I do! Funny thing. Kind of a bluefog. And the tools cut right through it without moving it! Queer! Musthave something to do with the meteor!" He was very excited. 

We dug more eagerly. An hour later we had opened the hole to a depthof twenty feet. Our shovels were clanging on the gray iron of the rockfrom space. The mist had grown thicker as the excavation deepened; welooked at the stone through a screen of motionless blue fog. 

We had found the meteor. There were several queer things about it. Thefirst man who touched it--a big Swede mechanic named Olson--wasknocked cold as if by a nasty jolt of electricity. It took half anhour to bring him to consciousness. 

As fast as the rugged iron side of the meteorite was uncovered, awhite crust of frost formed over it. 

"It was as cold as outer space, nearly at the absolute zero, " Charlieexplained. "And it was heated only superficially during its quickpassage through the air. But how it comes to be charged withelectricity--I can't say. "

He hurried up to his laboratory behind the hangars, where he hadequipment ranging from an astronomical telescope to a delicateseismograph. He brought back as much electrical equipment as he couldcarry. He had me touch an insulated wire to the frost-covered stonefrom space, while he put the other end to one post of a galvanometer. 

I think he got a current that wrecked the instrument. At any rate, hegrew very much excited. 

"Something queer about that stone!" he cried. "This is the chance of alifetime! I don't know that a meteor has ever been scientificallyexamined so soon after falling. "

 * * * * *

He hurried us all across to the laboratory. We came back with a truckload of coils and tubes and batteries and potentiometers and otherassorted equipment. He had men with heavy robber gloves lift thefrost-covered stone to a packing box on a bench. The thing wasirregular in shape, about a foot long; it must have weighed twohundred pounds. He sent a man racing on a motorcycle to the drug storeto get dry ice (solidified carbon dioxide) to keep the iron stone atits low temperature. 

In a few hours he had a complete laboratory set up around themeteorite. He worked feverishly in the hot sunshine, reading thevarious instruments he had set up, and arranging more. He contrived tokeep the stone cold by packing it in a box of dry ice. 

The mechanics stopped for dinner, and I tried to get him to take timeto eat. 

"No, Hammond, " he said. "This is something big! We were talking aboutEinstein. This rock seems energized with a new kind of force: allmeteors are probably the same way, when they first plunge out ofspace. I think this will be to relativity what the falling apple is togravity. This is a big thing. "

He looked up at me, brown eyes flashing. 

"This is my chance to make a name, Hammond. If I do something bigenough--Virginia might reconsider her opinion. "

Charlie worked steadily through the long hot afternoon. I spent mostof the time helping him, or gazing in fascination at the curious hazeof luminous blue mist that clung like a sphere of azure fog about themeteoric stone. I did not completely understand what he did; thereader who wants the details may consult the monograph he is preparingfor the scientific press. 

He had the men string up a line from our direct current generator inthe shops, to supply power for his electrical instruments. He mounteda powerful electromagnet just below the meteorite, and set up an X-raytube to bombard it with rays. 

 * * * * *

Night came, and the fire of the white sun faded from the sky. In thedarkness, the curious haze about the stone became luminescent, distinct, a dim, motionless sphere of blue light. I fancied that I sawgrotesque shapes flashing through it. A ball of blue fire, shimmeringand ghost-like, shrouded the instruments. 

Charlie's induction coil buzzed wickedly, with purple fire playingabout the terminals. The X-ray tube flickered with a greenish glow. Hemanipulated the rheostat that controlled the current through theelectromagnet, and continued to read his instruments. 

"Look at that!" he cried. 

The bluish haze about the stone grew brighter; it became a ball ofsapphire flame, five feet thick, bright and motionless. A great sphereof shimmering azure fire! Wisps of pale, sparkling bluish mist ringedit. The stone in its box, the X-ray bulb and other apparatus werehidden. The end of the table stuck oddly from the ball of light. 

I heard Charlie move a switch. The hum of the coils changed a note. 

The ball of blue fire vanished abruptly. It became a hole, a window inspace!

Through it, we saw another world!

The darkness of the night hung about us. Where the ball had been was acircle of misty blue flame, five feet across. Through that circle Icould see a vast expanse of blue ocean, running in high, white-cappedrollers, beneath a sky overcast with low gray clouds. 

It was no flat picture like a movie screen. The scene had vast depth;I knew that we were really looking over an infinite expanse of stormyocean. It was all perfectly clear, distinct, real!

 * * * * *

Astounded, I turned to find Charlie standing back and looking into thering of blue fire, with a curious mixture of surprise and delightedsatisfaction. 

"What--what--" I gasped. 

"It's amazing! Wonderful! More than I had dared hope for! Thecomplete vindication of my theory! If Virginia cares for scientificreputation--"

"But what is it?"

"It's hard to explain without mathematical language. You might saythat we are looking through a hole in space. The new force in themeteorite, amplified by the X-rays and the magnetic field, is causinga distortion of space-time coordinates. You know that a gravitationalfield bends light; the light of a star is deflected in passing thesun. The field of this meteorite bends light through space-time, through the four-dimensional continuum. That scrap of ocean we can seemay be on the other side of the earth. "

I walked around the circle of luminous smoke with the marvelouspicture in the center. It seemed that the window swung with me. Isurveyed the whole angry surface of that slate-gray, storm-beaten sea, to the misty horizon. Nowhere was it broken by land or ship. 

Charlie fell to adjusting his rheostat and switches. 

It seemed that the gray ocean moved swiftly beyond the window. Vaststretches of it raced below our eyes. Faint black stains of steamersmoke appeared against the blue-gray horizon and swept past. Then landappeared--a long, green-gray line. We had a flash of a long coast thatunreeled in endless panorama before us. It was such a view as onemight get from a swift airplane--a plane flying thousands of miles perhour. 

The Golden Gate flashed before us, with the familiar skyline of SanFrancisco rising on the hills behind it. 

"San Francisco!" Charlie cried. "This is the Pacific we've beenseeing. Let's find the _Valhalla_. We might be able to see Virginia!"

 * * * * *

The coast-line vanished as he manipulated his instruments. Staringinto the circle of shining blue mist, I saw the endless ocean racingbelow us again. We picked up a pleasure yacht, running under barepoles. 

"I didn't know there was such a storm on, " Charlie murmured. 

Other vessels swam past below us, laboring against heavy seas. 

Then we looked upon an ocean whipped into mighty white-crowned waves. Rain beat down in sheets from low dense clouds; vivid violetlightnings flashed before us. It seemed very strange to see suchlightning and hear not the faintest whisper of thunder--but no soundcame from anything we saw through the blue-rimmed window in space. 

"I hope the _Valhalla_ isn't in weather like this!" cried Charlie. 

In a few minutes a dark form loomed through the wind-riven mist. Swiftly it swam nearer; became a black ship. 

"Only a tramp, " Charlie said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

It was a dingy tramp steamer, her superstructure wrecked. Her firesseemed dead. She lay across the wind, rolling sluggishly, threateningto sink with every monstrous wave. We saw no living person aboard her;she seemed a sinking derelict. We made out the name _Roma_ on herside. 

Charlie moved his dials again. 

In a few minutes the slender prow of another great steamer camethrough the sheets of rain. It was evidently a passenger vessel. Sheseemed limping along, half wrecked, with mighty waves breaking overher rail. 

Charlie grew white with alarm. "The _Valhalla_!" he gasped. "And she'sheaded straight for that wreck!"

In a moment, as he brought the liner closer below our blue-rimmedwindow, I, too, made out the name. The wet, glistening decks werealmost deserted. Here and there a man struggled futilely against theforce of the storm. 

 * * * * *

In a few minutes the drifting wreck of the _Roma_ came into our view, dead ahead of the limping liner. Through the mist and falling rain, the derelict could not have been in sight of the lookout of thepassenger vessel until she was almost upon it. 

We saw the white burst of steam as the siren was blown. We watched thedesperate effort of the liner to check her way, to come about. But itwas too much for the already crippled ship. Charlie cried out as amighty wave drove the _Valhalla_ down upon the sluggishly driftingwreck. 

All the mad scene that ensued was strangely silent. We heard no crashwhen the collision occurred; heard no screams or shouts while the mobof desperate, white-faced passengers were fighting their way to thedeck. The vain struggle to launch the boats was like a silent movie. 

One boat was splintered while being lowered. Another, already filledwith passengers, was lifted by a great ware and crushed against theside of the ship. Only shivered wood and red foam were left. The shiplisted so rapidly that the boats on the lee side were useless. It wasimpossible to launch the others in that terrible, lashing sea. 

"Virginia can swim. " Charlie said hopefully. "You know she tried theChannel last year, and nearly made it, too. "

He stopped to watch that terrible scene in white-faced, anxioussilence. 

The tramp went down before the steamer, drawing fragments of wreckedboats after it. The liner was evidently sinking rapidly. We saw dozensof hopeless, panic-stricken passengers diving off the lee side, tryingto swim off far enough to avoid the tremendous suction. 

Then, with a curious deliberation, the bow of the _Valhalla_ dippedunder green water; her stern rose in the air until the ship stoodalmost perpendicular. She slipped quickly down, out of sight. 

Only a few swimming humans, and the wrecks of a few boats, were lefton the rough gray sea. Charlie fumbled nervously with his dials, trying to get the scene near enough so that we could see the identityof the struggling swimmers. 

 * * * * *

A long boat, which must have been swept below by the suction of theship, came plunging above the surface, upside down. It drifted swiftlyamong the swimmers, who struggled to reach it. I saw one person, evidently a girl, grasp it and drag herself upon it. It swept on pastthe few others still struggling. 

The wrecked boat with the girl upon it seemed coming swiftly towardour blue-rimmed window. In a few minutes I saw something familiarabout her. 

"It's Virginia!" Charlie cried. "God! We've got to save her, somehow!"

The long rollers drove the over-turned boat swiftly along. VirginiaRandall clung desperately to it, deluged in foam, whipped with flyingspray, the wild wind tearing at her. 

About us, the clear still night was deepening. The air was warm andstill; the hot stars shone steadily. Quiet lighted houses were insight above the beach. It was very strange to look through thefire-rimmed circle, to see a girl struggling for life, clinging to awrecked boat in a stormy sea. 

Charlie watched in an apathy of grief and horror, trembling andspeechless doing nothing except move the controls to keep the floatinggirl in our sight. 

 * * * * *

Hours went by as we watched. Then Charlie cried out in sudden hope. "There's a chance! I might do it! I might be able to save her!"

"Might do what?"

"We are able to see what we do because the field of the meteor bendslight through the four-dimensional continuum. The world line of a rayof light is a geodesic in the continuum. The field I have builtdistorts the continuum, so we see rays that originated at a distantpoint. Is that clear?"

"Clear as mud!"

"Well, anyhow, if the field were strong enough, we could bringphysical objects through space-time, instead of mere visual images. Wecould pick Virginia up and bring her right here to the crater! I'msure of it!"

"You mean you could move a girl through some four or five thousandmiles of space!"

"You don't understand. She wouldn't come through space at all, butthrough space-time, through the continuum, which is a very differentthing. She is four thousand miles away in our three-dimensional space, but in space-time, as you see, she is only a few yards away. She isonly a few yards from us in the fourth dimension. If I can increasethe field a little, she will be drawn right through!"

"You're a wizard if you can do it!"

"I've got to do it! She's a fine swimmer--that's the only reason she'sstill alive--but she'll never live to reach the shore. Not in a sealike that!"

Charlie fell to work at once, mounting another electromagnet besidethe one he had set up, and rigging up two more X-ray bulbs beside thepacking box which held the meteor. The motion of the boat in thefire-rimmed window kept drawing it swiftly away from us, and Charlieshowed me how to move the dial of his rheostat to keep the girl inview. 

 * * * * *

Before he had completed his arrangements, a patch of white foam cameinto view just ahead of the drifting boat. In a moment I made out acruel black rock, with the angry sea breaking into fleecy spray uponit. The boat was almost upon it, driving straight for it. Charlie sawit, and cried out in horror. 

The long black hull of the splintered boat, floating keel upward, wasonly a few yards away. A great white-capped breaker lifted it andhurled it forward, with the girl clinging to it. She drew herself upand stared in terror at the black rock, while another long surgingroller picked up the boat and swept it forward again. 

I stood, paralyzed in horror, while the shattered boat was driven fullupon the great rock. I could imagine the crash of it, but it was allas still as a silent picture. The boat, riding high on a crest ofwhite foam, smashed against the rock and was shivered to splinters. Virginia was hurled forward against the slick wet stone. Desperatelyshe scrambled to reach the top of the boulder. Her hands slipped onthe polished rock; the wild sea dragged at her. At last she got out ofreach of the angry gray water, though spume still deluged her. 

I breathed a sigh of relief, though her position was still far fromenviable. 

"Virginia! Virginia! Why did I let you go?" Charlie cried. 

Desperately he fell to work again, mounting the magnet and tubes. Another hour went by, while I watched the shivering girl on the rock. Bobbed hair, wet and glistening, was plastered close against her head, and her clothing was torn half off. She looked utterly exhausted; itseemed to take all her ebbing energy to cling to the rock against theforce of the wind and the waves that dashed against her. She lookedcold, blue and trembling. 

The water stood higher. 

"The tide is rising!" Charlie exclaimed. "It will cover the rockpretty soon. If I don't get her off in time--she's lost!"

 * * * * *

He finished twisting his wires together. 

"I've got it all ready, " he said. "Now, I've got to find out exactlywhere she is, to know how to set it. Even then it's fearfullyuncertain. I hate to try it, but it's the only chance. 

"You can find out?"

"Yes. From the spectral shift and other factors. I'll have to get someother apparatus. " He ran up to the laboratory, across the level fieldthat lay black beneath the stars. He came back, panting, withspectrometer, terrestrial globe, and other articles. 

"The tide is higher!" he cried as he looked through the blue-rimmedcircle at the girl on the rock. "She'll be swept off before long!"

He mounted the spectrometer and fell to work with a will, takingobservations through the telescope, adjusting prisms and diffractiongratings, reading electrometers and other apparatus, and stopping tomake intricate calculations. 

I helped him when I could, or stared through the ring of shining bluemist, where I could see the waves breaking higher about the exhaustedgirl who clung to the rock. Clouds of wind-whipped spray often hid herfrom sight. I knew that she would not have the strength to hold onmuch longer against the force of the rising sea. 

Although driven almost to distraction by the horror of herpredicament, he worked with a cool, swift efficiency. Only the pale, anxiety-drawn expression on his face showed how great was the strain. He finished the last spectrometer observation, snatched out a pad andfell to figuring furiously. 

"Something queer here, " he said presently, frowning. "A shift of thespectrum that I can't explain by distortion through three-dimensionalspace alone. I don't understand it. "

We stared at the chilled and trembling girl on the rock. 

"I'm almost afraid to try it. What if something went wrong?"

He turned to the terrestrial globe he had brought down and traced aline over it. He made a quick calculation on his pad, then made a finedot on the globe with the pencil point. 

"Here she is. On a rock some miles off Point Eugenia, on the coast ofthe Mexican State of Lower California. Most lonely spot in the world. No chance for a rescue. We must--

"My god!" he screamed in sudden horror. "Look!"

 * * * * *

I looked through the blue-ringed window and saw the girl. Green waterwas surging about her waist. It seemed that each wave almost tore heroff. Then I saw that she was struggling with something. A greatcoiling tentacle, black and leathery and glistening, was thrust upout of the green water. It wavered deliberately through the air andgrasped at the girl. She seemed to scream, though we could hearnothing. She beat at the monster, weakly, vainly. 

"She's gone!" cried Charlie. 

"An octopus!" I said. "A giant cuttlefish!"

Virginia made a sudden fierce effort. With a strength that I had notthought her chilled limbs possessed, she tore away from the dreadfulcreature and clambered higher on the rock. But still a hideous blacktentacle clung about her ankle, tugging at her, drawing her backdespite her desperate struggle to break free. 

"I've got to try it!" Charlie said, determination flashing in hiseyes. "It's a chance!"

He closed a switch. His new coils sung out above the old one. X-raytubes flickered beside the blue fire that ringed the window. Headjusted his rheostats and closed the circuit through the new magnet. 

A curtain of blue flame was drawn quickly between us and the round, fire-rimmed window. A huge ball of blue fire hung, about the meteoriteand the instruments. For minutes it hung there, while Charlie, perspiring, worked desperately with the apparatus. Then it expanded;became huge. It exploded noiselessly, in a great flash of sapphireflame, then vanished completely. 

Meteor, bench, and apparatus were gone!

In the light of the stars we could make out the huge crater themeteorite had torn, with a few odds and ends of equipment scatteredabout it. But all the apparatus Charlie had set up, connected with themeteoric stone, had disappeared. 

He was dumbfounded, staggered with disappointment. 

"Virginia! Virginia!" he called out, in a hopeless tone. "No, sheisn't here. It didn't draw her through. I've failed. And we can't evensee her any more!"

 * * * * *

Desperately I searched for consolation for him. 

"Maybe the octopus won't hurt her, " I offered. "They say that most ofthe stories of their ferocity are somewhat exaggerated. "

"If the monster doesn't get her, the tide will!" he said bitterly. "Imade a miserable failure of it! And I don't know why! I can'tunderstand it!"

Apathetically, he picked up his pad and held it in the light of hiselectric lantern. 

"Something funny about this equation. The shift of the spectrum linescan't be accounted for by distortion through space alone. "

With wrinkled brow, he stared for many minutes at the bit of paper heheld in the white circle of light. Suddenly he seized a pencil andfigured rapidly. 

"I have it! The light was bent through time! I should have recognizedthese space-time coordinates. "

He calculated again. 

"Yes. The scene we saw in that circle of light was distant from us notonly in space but in time. The _Valhalla_ probably hasn't sunk yet atall. We were looking into the future!"

"But how can that be? Seeing things before they happen!"

I have the profoundest respect for Charlie King's mathematical genius. But when he said that I was frankly incredulous. 

"Space and time are only relative terms. Our material universe ismerely the intersection of tangled world lines of geodesics in afour-dimensional continuum. Space and time have no meaningindependently of each other. Jeans says. 'A terrestrial astronomer mayreckon that the outburst on Nova Persei occurred a century before thegreat fire of London, but an astronomer on the Nova may reckon withequal accuracy that the great fire occurred a century before theoutburst on the Nova. ' The field of this meteorite deflected lightwaves so that we saw them earlier, according to our conventionalideas of time, than they originated. We saw several hours into thefuture. 

"And the amplified field of the magnet, though strong enough to moveVirginia through space, was not sufficiently powerful to draw her backto us across time. Yet she must have felt the pull. Some dreadfulthing may have happened. The problem is rather complicated. "

 * * * * *

He lifted his pencil again. In the glow of the little electric lanternI saw his lean young face tense with the fierce effort of his thought. His pencil raced across the little pad, setting down symbols that Icould make nothing of. 

My own thoughts were racing. Seeing into the future was a ratherrevolutionary idea to me. My mind is conservative; I have always beensceptical of the more fantastic ideas suggested by science. ButCharlie seemed to know what he was talking about. In view of themarvelous things he had done that night, it seemed hardly fair todoubt him now. I decided to accept his astounding statement at facevalue and to follow the adventure through. 

He lifted his pencil and consulted the luminous dial of his wristwatch. 

"We saw that last scene some twelve hours and forty minutes before ithappened--to put it in conventional language. The distortion of thetime coordinates amounted to that. "

In the light of dawn--for we had been all night at the meteor pit, andsilver was coming in the east--he looked at me with fierce resolve inhis eyes. 

"Hammond, that gives us over twelve hours to get to Virginia!"

"You mean to go? But just twelve hours! That's better than thetranscontinental record--to say nothing of the time it would take tofind a little rock in the Pacific!"

"We have the _Golden Gull_! She's as fast as any ship we've everflown. "

"But we can't take the _Gull_! Those alterations haven't been made. And that new engine! A bear-cat for power, but it may go dead anysecond. The _Gull_ can fly, but she isn't safe!"

"Safety be damned! I've got to get to Virginia, and get there in thenext twelve hours!"

"The _Gull_ will fly, but--"

"All right. Please help me get off!"

"Help you off? It's a fool thing to do! But if you go, I do!"

"Thanks, Hammond. Awfully!" He gripped my hand. "We've got to makeit!"

 * * * * *

With a last glance into the gaping pit from which we had dug themarvelous stone, we turned and ran across to the hangars. As we ranthe sun came above the sea in the east: its first rays struck us likea fiery lance. The mechanics had not yet appeared. Charlie pushed thedoors back, and we ran out the trim little _Golden Gull_, beautifulwith her slender wing and her graceful, tapering lines. 

I seized the starting crank and Charlie sprang into the cockpit. Icranked until the mechanism was droning dismally, and pulled the leverthat engaged it with the engine. I had been in too much haste to getup the proper speed, and the powerful new engine failed to fire. Charlie almost cried with vexation while I was cranking again. 

This time the motor coughed and fell into a steady, vibrant roar. Withthe wind from the propeller screaming about me, I disengaged the crankand stood waiting while the motor warmed. Charlie gave it scant timeto do so before he motioned me to kick out the blocks. I tumbled intothe enclosed cockpit beside him, he gave the ship the gun, and weroared across the field. 

In five minutes we were flying west, at a speed just under threehundred miles per hour. Charlie was crouched over the stick, scanningthe instrument board, and flying the _Gull_ almost at her top speed. Again and again his eyes went to the little clock on the panel. 

"Twelve hours and forty minutes, " he said. "And an hour gone already!We're got to be there by five minutes after six. "

We were flying over Louisiana when the oil line clogged. The engineheated dangerously. Reluctantly, Charlie cut off the ignition, andfell in a swift spiral to an open field. 

"We're got to fix it!" he said. "Another hour gone! And we neededevery minute!"

"This new engine! It's powerful enough, but we should have had time tooverhaul it, and make those changes. "

 * * * * *

Charlie landed with his usual skill, and we fell to work in desperatehaste. A grizzled farmer, a wad of tobacco in his cheek and threeragged urchins at his heels, stopped to watch us. He had just been tohis mailbox, and had a morning paper in his hand. Charlie questionedhim about the storm. 

"Storm-center nears the American coast, " he read in a nasal drawl. "Greatest storm of year drives shipping upon west coast. Six vesselsreported lost. _S. S. Valhalla_, disabled, sends S. O. S. 

"A thousand lives are the estimated toll to-night of the most terrificstorm of the year, which is sweeping toward the Pacific coast, drivingall shipping before it. Radiograms from the _Valhalla_ at 5 P. M. Report that she is disabled and in danger. It is doubtful that rescuevessels can reach her through the storm. "

We got the engine repaired, took off again. Charlie looked at thelittle clock. 

"Five minutes to ten. Eight hours and ten minutes left, and we've gota darn long ways to go. "

We had to stop at San Antonio, Texas, to replenish gasoline and oil. 

"Ten minutes lost!" Charlie complained as we took off. "And thatmonster--waiting in the future to drag Virginia to a hideous death!"

Two hours later the plane developed trouble in the ignition system. The motor was new, with several radical changes that we had introducedto increase power and lessen weight. As I had objected to Charlie, wehad not done enough experimental work on it to perfect it. 

 * * * * *

We limped into the field at El Paso and spent another pricelesshalf-hour at work. I got some sandwiches at a luncheon counter besidethe field, and listened a moment to a radio loudspeaker there. 

"Many thousands are dead, " came the crisp, metallic voice of theannouncer, "as a result of the storm now raging on the Pacific coast, the worst in several years. The storm-center is spending its force onthe coastal regions to-day. Millions of dollars in damage are reportedin cities from San Francisco to Manzanillo, Mexico. 

"The greatest disaster of the storm is the loss of the passenger liner_Valhalla_, of the Red Star Line. It is believed to have collided withthe abandoned hulk of an Italian-owned tramp freighter, the _Roma_, which was left by its crew yesterday in a sinking condition. Radiograms from the liner ceased three hours ago, when she was said tobe sinking. The officers doubted that her boats could be launched insuch a sea--"

I waited to hear no more. Charlie checked our route while we werestopped. And we took off; we crossed the Rio Grande and flew acrossthe rocky, brush-scattered hills of Mexico, in a direct line for therock in the sea. 

"If anything happens so we have to land again--well, it's just toobad, " Charlie said grimly. "But we've got to go this way. It'ssomething over six hundred miles in a straight line. Fifteen minutesto four, now. We have to average nearly three hundred miles an hour toget there. "

He was silent and intent over his maps and instruments as we flew onover the lofty Sierra Madre Range, and over a long slope down to theGulf of California. Head-winds beset us as we were over the stretchof blue water, and we flew on into a storm. 

"We had hardly time to make it, without the wind against us, " Charliesaid. "If it holds us back many miles--well, it just mustn't!"

 * * * * *

Purple lightning flickered ominously in the mass of blue storm-cloudsthat hung above the mountainous peninsula of Lower California. I had aqualm about flying into it in our untested machine. But Charlie leanedtensely forward and sent the _Golden Gull_ on at the limit of herspeed. Gray vapor swirled about us, rent with livid streaks oflightning. Thunder crashed and rumbled above the roar of our racingengine. Wild winds screeched in the struts; rain and hail beat againstus. The plane rose and fell; she was swirled about like a fallingleaf. The stick struggled in Charlie's hands like a living thing. Withlips tightened to a thin line, he fought silently, fiercely, desperately. 

Suddenly we were sucked down until I had an uneasy feeling at the pitof my stomach. I saw the grim outline of a bare mountain peakdangerously close below us, shrouded in wind-whipped mist. 

In sudden alarm I shouted, "We'd better get out of this, Charlie! Wecan't live in it long!"

In the roar of the storm he did not hear me, and I shouted again. 

He turned to face me, after a glance at the clock. "We've less than anhour, Hammond. We've got to go on!"

I sank back in my seat. The plane rolled and tossed until I thanked mylucky stars for the safety strap. In nervous anxiety I watched Charliebring the ship up again, and fight his way on through the storm. Foran eternity, it seemed, we battled through a chaos of wind-drivenmist, bright with purple lightning and shaken with crashing thunder. 

Charlie struggled with the controls until he was dripping withperspiration. He must have been utterly worn out, after thirty-sixhours of exhausting effort. A dozen times I despaired of life. Thecompass had gone to spinning crazily; we dived through the rain untilwe could pick up landmarks below. Three times a great bare peak loomedsuddenly up ahead of us, and Charlie averted collision only by zoomingsuddenly upward. 

Then slate-gray water was beneath us, running in white-crestedmountains. I knew that we were at last out over the Pacific. 

"We've passed Point Eugenia, " Charlie said. "It can't be far, now. Butwe have only fifteen minutes left. Fifteen minutes to get toher--before the attraction of the meteor jerks her away, perhaps to ahorrible fate. "

 * * * * *

We flew low and fast over the racing waves. Charlie looked over hischarts and made a swift calculation. He changed our course a bit andwe flew on at top speed. We scanned the vast, mad expanse of sea belowthe blue-gray clouds. Here and there were lines of white breakers, butnowhere did we see a rock with a girl upon it. Presently the greenoutline of an island appeared out of the wild water on our right. 

"That's Del Tiburon, " Charlie said. "We missed the rock. "

He swung the plane about and we flew south over the hastening waves. Ilooked at the little clock. It showed two minutes to six. I turned toCharlie. 

"Seven minutes!" he whispered grimly. 

On and on we flew, in a wide circle. The motor roared loud. An endlessexpanse of racing waves unreeled below us. The little hand crawledaround the dial. One minute past six. Only four minutes to go. 

We saw a speck of white foam on the mad gray water. It was miles away, almost on the horizon. We plunged toward it, motor bellowing loud. Five miles a minute we flew. The white fleck became a black rocksmothered in snowy foam. On we swept, and over the rock, withbullet-like speed. 

As we plunged by, I saw Virginia's slender form, tattered, brine-soaked, straggling in the hideous tentacles of the monsteroctopus. It was the same terrible scene that we had viewed, throughthe amazing phenomenon of distortion of light through space-time, fourthousand miles away and twelve hours before. 

In a few minutes the time would come when Charlie had ended our viewof the scene by his attempt to draw the girl through the fourthdimension to our apparatus in Florida. What terrible thing mighthappen then?

Charlie brought the ship about so quickly that we were flung againstthe sides. Down we came toward the mad waves in a swift glide. Insudden apprehension, I dropped my hand on his shoulder. 

"Man, you can't land in a sea like that! It's suicide!"

Without a word, he shook off my hand and continued our steep glidetoward the rock. I drew my breath in apprehension of a crash. 

 * * * * *

I do not blame Charlie for what happened. He is as skilful a pilot asI know. It was a mad freak of the sea that did the thing. 

The gray waste of mountainous, white-crested waves rose swiftly up tomeet us, with the rock with the girl clinging to it just to our right. The _Golden Gull_ struck the crest of a wave, buried herself in thefoam, and plunged down the long slope to the trough. We rose safely tothe crest of the oncoming roller, and I saw the black outline of therock not a dozen yards away. 

Charlie had landed with all his skill. It was not his fault that theblustering wind caught the ship as she reached the crest of the waveand flung her sidewise toward the rock. It is no fault of his that thewhite-capped mountain of racing green water completed what the windhad begun and hurled the frail plane crashing on the rock. 

I have a confused memory of the wild plunge at the mercy of the wave, of my despair as I realized that we were being wrecked. I must havebeen knocked unconscious when we struck. The next I remember I wasopening my eyes to find myself on the rock, Charlie's strong arm on myshoulder. I was soaked with icy brine and my head was aching from aheavy blow. 

Virginia, shivering and blue, was perched beside us. I could see nosign of the plane: the mighty sea had swept away what was left of it. Clinging to the lee side of the rock I saw the black tentacles of thegiant octopus--waiting for a wave to dash us to its mercy. 

"All right, Hammond?" Charlie inquired anxiously. "I'm afraid you gota pretty nasty bump on the head. About all I could do to fish you outbefore the _Gull_ was swept away. "

 * * * * *

He helped me to a better position to withstand the force of the greatroller that came plunging down upon us like a moving mountain. Virginia was in his arms, too exhausted to do more than cling to him. 

"What can we do?" I sputtered, shaking water from my head. 

"Not a thing! We're in a pretty bad fix, I imagine. In a few secondswe will feel the attraction of the meteor's field--the force withwhich I tried to draw Virginia to the crater through the fourthdimension. I don't know what will happen; we may be jerked out ofspace altogether. And if that doesn't get us, the tide and the octopuswill!"

His voice was drowned in the roar of the coming wave. A mountain ofwater deluged us. Half drowned, I clung to the rock against the madwater. 

Then blinding blue light flashed about me. A sharp crash rang in myears, like splintering glass. I reeled, and felt myself fallingheadlong. 

 * * * * *

I brought up on soft sand. 

I sat up, dumbfounded, and opened my eyes. I was sitting on the steepsandy tide of a conical pit. Charlie and Virginia were sprawled besideme, looking as astonished as I felt. Charlie got to his knees andlifted the limp form of the girl in his arms. 

Something snapped in my brain. The sand-walled pit was suddenlyfamiliar. I got to my feet and clambered out of it. I saw that we wereon our own landing field. 

Astonishingly, we were back in the meteor crater. Charlie's vanishedapparatus was scattered about us. I saw the gray side of the roughiron meteorite itself, half-buried in the sand at the bottom of thepit. 

"What--what happened?" I demanded of Charlie. 

"Don't you see? Simple enough. I should have thought of it before. Thefield of the meteorite brought Virginia--and us--through to this pointin space. But it could not bring us back through time; instead, theapparatus itself was jerked forward through time. That is why itvanished. We got here just twelve hours and forty minutes after Iclosed the switch, since we had been looking that far into the future. The mathematical explanation--"

"That's enough for me!" I said hastily. "We better see about a warm, dry bed for Virginia, and some hot soup or something. "

 * * * * *

Now the rough gray meteorite, in a neat glass case, rests above themantel in the library of a beautiful home where I am a frequent guest. I was there one evening, a few days ago, when Charlie King fell silentin one of his fits of mathematical speculation. 

"Einstein again?" I chaffingly inquired. 

He raised his brown eyes and looked at me. "Hammond, since relativityenabled us to find the Meteor Girl, you ought to be convinced!"

Virginia--whom her husband calls the Meteor Girl--came laughingly tothe rescue. 

"Yes, Mr. Hammond, what do you think of Einstein now?"

The Reader's Corner

[Illustration: The Reader's Corner]

_Now--Internationale Scientific Society_

 Dear Editor:

 The genial editor of this "Astounding" publication has granted me a few words directed to all readers who may be interested. 

 The Science Correspondence Club, with the inception of the new year, will operate under an entirely new policy, most important of which is the change of name to Internationale Scientific Society. The archaic and tedious correspondence will be a minor consideration in the new policy. Our publications and form letter methods of communication keep all members fully informed as to up-to-date news of the Society. Affiliation with the "Verein für Raumschiffarht" in Berlin has been accomplished also. This makes available to all "Internationale Scientific" members the latest news from the forefront of science in Germany, with especial reference to latest rocket interplanetary developments. Constant improvements on our monthly journal are always sought for. Contributors of well-known reputation are: Willy Ley, Earl D. Streeter, R. P. Starzl, Robt. A. Wait, Dr. Wm. Tyler Olcott, Lilith Lorraine and Dr. D. W. Morehouse, president of Drake University, Iowa. 

 This society is endeavoring to bring the scientific news and personal contact to all scientifically inclined laymen of the world. Many prominent men in science and Science Fiction are honorary members, as is Mr. Bates, Editor of Astounding Stories. All information may be obtained from the business office at 8834 Michigan Ave. , Chicago, Illinois. Thank you--Walter L. Dennis, Treas. 

_Advice to Advertise_

 Dear Editor:

 Astounding Stories makes me tickle the typewriter keys to tell you what I think about your magazine. Is it absolutely without a doubt the best magazine on the market, and that means something. I have only been acquainted with Astounding Stories since May--since then I have had greater pleasure in reading them than anything else. To my sad disappointment I missed the first four issues, but I've read every story since. 

 The first story I read was "The Atom Smasher, " and I considered this very good. The majority of your stories are very good. Occasionally a poor one will mix in, but I know we all regard this as only a slight error. 

 I suggest that it would be to your advantage to advertise Astounding Stories more than you do because it was by mere accident that I came in contact with it, and it has happened to others the same way. You would see the increased number of copies sold if you make special advertising a part of your business. The reason I suggest this is because I know what your future readers are missing if they don't read Astounding Stories. 

 Here's wishing you success in continuing to publish the best stories. --Walter Oathout, 91 College Ave. , Troy, New York. 

"_Cut That Romantic Stuff_"

 Dear Editor:

 I am accepting your offer to come over to "The Readers' Corner, " and am coming over in two ways, as you will see by my address. 

 First of all, I must say that I raise my hat to you and your coworkers for having brought out another Science Fiction magazine--a real benefaction to readers like myself who thrive, as it were, on such stories. I can tell you my eyes grew big with delight when I saw the first number--to me--of Astounding Stories. Mille mercis. Why don't you try publishing a thick Quarterly?

 My favorite authors are A. Hyatt Verrill, J. W. Campbell, Jr. , Miles J. Breuer, M. D. , Captain S. P. Meek, Ray Cummings, Arthur J. Berks and Edmond Hamilton. If you get stories by these for your magazine it will continue to prosper, as they are excellent writers, and the first four have fine science in their tales. I have had only three copies of Astounding Stories, and the tales I like best are: "Vandals of the Stars, " the serial "Brigands of the Moon, " "Monsters of Moyen"--this was most interesting--"The Ray of Madness, " "The Soul Snatcher, " and "The Jovian Jest. " This last, though short, I thought to be very good, and it gave one furiously to think, too. While I like all kinds of Science Fiction, I have a special preference for interplanetary and fourth dimension stories. 

 Now having handed out one or two bouquets, I am going to sling some brickbats. Doggone it, but why don't you cut out some of that romantic stuff in your stories? Goodness knows, but one has enough of love and the ubiquitous heroine in other tales without this sentimentality entering into Science Fiction. Indeed, that is the biggest criticism I have of Astounding Stories, and I do honestly wish that if you have absolutely got to give the stuff you would confine it to half the stories. Half and half--that's fair, isn't it?

 If you will publish this letter, which I should like you to do, it would draw to the notice of the other readers that I am always very pleased to correspond with any of them on science and science stories. 

 Now I'll dry up, wishing you the very best of sincere wishes for the continued success of your--or rather "our"--little treasure, Astounding Stories. --Glyn Owens, 20, Rugby Rd. , Newport, Man. , Canada. 

_Nossir--No "Half Pints"_

 Dear Editor:

 I have been reading Astounding Stories for some time, although this is the first time I have written, and I want to say it is one swell mag. I like all of its stories, though I like the ones of adventure on other planets and in strange lands best. But listen, I don't want any by a few half pint authors I know of that write for a few other quarter pint magazines. Let's have some more by such as Victor Rousseau, Capt. S. P. Meek, Arthur J. Burks, Murry Leinster and R. P. Starzl. Also Ray Cummings. Here's to them and to the best mag on the market. Remember, no half pints. --Boyd Goodman, 2801 Laclede St. , Dallas, Texas. 

"_Out of Curiosity_"

 Dear Editor:

 Seeing your magazine on the newsstands the other day, I purchased it out of curiosity to see whether it was just another magazine or something out of the ordinary. Being a reader of other Science Fiction magazines, I was surprised to see how much better Astounding Stories turned out to be than the rest. Ever since that first issue I have been a steady reader of "our" magazine. 

 I think that one of the best improvements that could be made is to cut all the pages even. Wesso sure is a dandy artist. Try not to lose him. I, for one, am very much in favor of reprints. I think they would very much increase our circle of readers. 

 Some of your best authors are: S. P. Meek, V. Rousseau, Ray Cummings and S. P. Wright. Let's have some more novels by those authors, please. --E. F. Hittleman, 3400 Wayne Ave. , Bronx, N. Y. 

"_Or What Have You?_"

 Dear Editor:

 I've just finished reading the October issue of Astounding Stories and am convinced that the magazine is getting better and better. 

 I'd like to take back what I said in my first letter about interplanetary stories being ruled out, because I notice they are improving. They seem more realistic and true. 

 I like "Jetta of the Lowlands. " Something different, don't you think? Seems strange to imagine what the ocean bottoms might be like. 

 And how can "Stolen Brains" help but be good when Captain Meek brings his Philo Vance to the rescue--that intelligent Dr. Bird. (This may sound like sarcasm, but it's meant to be praise. ) I always read Dr. Bird first of all. 

 "Prisoners on the Electron" is just what I like. Somewhere I read a story similar to it--that of life on an electron. I don't doubt one bit that there can be life on such minute surfaces, which also gives me an idea that the earth may be an electron to some gigantic planet which is so large that we cannot comprehend its size. Couldn't that be possible?

 I still find that among the contributors there is only one girl besides myself. Letters sent to me from readers are all from men or boys. Am I so different from other girls? Or what have you?--Gertrude Hemken, 5730 So. Ashland Ave. , Chicago, Illinois. 

_Only Fiction_

 Dear Editor:

 I am writing a second letter criticizing some of the later stories you published. I think Astounding Stories is steadily improving. In the June issue, "The Moon Master" takes first place. Other first place stories are: "The Forgotten Planet, " (July); "The Second Satellite, " (August); "Marooned Under the Sea, " (Sept); "The Invisible Empire, " (Oct). 

 I agree with Mr. W. Gelman. You ought to have coupons to fill out on reprints and see whether or not the majority vote for reprints. I saw a mistake in "Prisoners on the Electron. " The author states that four months of time passed on the electron during fifteen seconds Earth time. That is wrong, because electrons revolve several thousand times per second around their nucleus or sun, so by the time Karl Danzig fished out Aaron and Nanette they would be as old as the hills. I would like to know if the story, "Marooned Under the Sea, " was found near New Zealand or is it just fiction? Another thing I want to say is that you have too many serials. --Geo. Brandes, 141 South Church St. , Schenectady, New York. 

_This Is Treason!_

 Dear Editor:

 This is the first time I have written to the "Corner, " but I wished to call your attention to a story I have just finished reading in another magazine--"Skylark Three, " by Edward E. Smith. I think it is by far better than anything I have read in your magazine. I thought you might be able to get something on this line. 

 Of course, some of the theories are rather far fetched. I think this is the best story I have read for years, and hope that if Smith writes any more, I will be able to read them. --D. R. Guthrie, P. O. Box 23, Copeland, Idaho. 

_Announcement_

 Dear Editor:

 Several months ago an announcement was made in this magazine concerning The Scienceers, an organization of scientifically-minded young men, with headquarters in New York City. 

 We wish to thank you for publishing this notice, which resulted in the acquisition of several new members. We are all readers of Astounding Stories, and consider it the premier magazine in the Science Fiction field. 

 The purpose of our organization, as taken from the constitution, is as follows: To promote informal fellowship among persons interested in science, and to foster discussion and debate on modern discoveries, theories, and projects in the realm of science. 

 The only requirements for membership in The Scienceers are that applicants must be over sixteen years of age, and must show a hearty willingness to cooperate with the other members in discussing theories, etc. , in science. 

 The member of the club has the companionship and friendship of other persons interested in the same activities. He will find a congenial atmosphere upon his arrival and will have a wonderful time in helping the club to be bigger and better. He will be as well informed on the latest events in science as though he were taking a course in it, which in reality he will be doing. He will have access to the club's library, consisting of several hundred books and magazines on science and Science Fiction. In our library are the latest Science Fiction books published, such as "Red Snow, " by F. W. Moxley, "The Monster Men, " by E. R. Burroughs and "The World Below, " by S. Fowler Wright. In our collection we have reprints that we feel sure many of our present Science Fiction fans have not read. We have a great many scientific books and magazines. The club buys regularly Popular Science, Popular Mechanics, Science and Invention, and others. 

 Those who would like to visit the clubroom will be gladly received. The clubroom is at 266 E. Van Cortland Ave. Get off at Mosholu Parkway station on the Jerome Avenue line. Our secretary, Allen Glasser, of 1610 University Ave. , New York City, will receive all inquiries for information. 

 The Scienceers have a branch in Clearwater, Florida, and another in Temple, Texas. The former may be reached by writing to Mr. Guy Cole, Secretary, Clearwater, Florida, and the latter by writing to Mr. Gabriel Kirschner, Box 301, Temple, Texas. --Nathan Greenfeld, Librarian, The Scienceers, 873 Whitlock Ave, New York, N. Y. 

"_Abominable, " "Rotten, " etc. _

 Dear Editor:

 I aim for this letter to represent the hardest and reddest brickbats imaginably possible, excepting perhaps the first paragraph, not counting this prelude (warping). 

 I have classified the stories of all issues out so far, and the results show that Victor Rousseau, Ray Cummings, Murray Leinster, Capt. Meek, Charles W. Diffin, Arthur J. Burks, Harl Vincent, S. P. Wright, R. P. Starzl, Edmond Hamilton, Miles J. Breuer, M. D. , James P. Olsen, Tom Curry, S. W. Ellis and Jackson Gee are your most outstanding authors. The first seven stand head and shoulders above the other authors, though. 

 Now for the brickbats. No kiddin'--where is your Editor's pride? We want a magazine to be proud of, don't we? Its binding is abominable. The edges are terrible: it takes ten minutes to find a certain page. The paper itself is absolutely rotten. What about the poor readers who want to have a Science Fiction library? He wants a magazine that can be bound and will look half good. Please put better grade paper in your magazine. And for goodness sake, answer in the department all questions and inquiries from the readers. Why not have a vote on this? I guarantee you that over 90% of the votes will want your answers to their personal questions. Please answer my request in "The Readers' Corner. "--Ward Elmore, 3022 Avenue K, Fort Madison, Iowa. 

"_Pictures of the Readers_"

 Dear Editor:

 The November Astounding Stories is up to the high standard set by previous issues. For first place I nominate "The Pirate Planet, " which promises to be as good as "Earth, the Marauder. " The last part of "Jetta of the Lowlands" was a fitting conclusion to a great story. "Vagabonds of Space, " "The Wall of Death, " and "The Gray Plague" are all worthy of being ranked with your best stories. 

 The cover illustration is one of Wesso's best, if not the best. It is a marked improvement over the October one. There's also a great improvement in the illustrations inside the book, since all except one were drawn by Wesso. 

 I heartily approve of the suggestion of Jack Darrow, who proposes that you devote a page to your authors. Your writers are the outstanding Science Fiction authors of the day, and we should like to know something about them. If you happen to run out of new authors, you could run the Eves and pictures of some of the readers (Mr. Darrow, Mr. Kirschner, Mr. Wentzler, etc. ), who contribute almost as much material as some of your authors. To be serious, though, the above make many valuable suggestions, especially Mr. Darrow, with whom I agree on almost every point. 

 Those persons who said that the small size of Astounding Stories was insult to Science Fiction can't complain now. After October the majority of the monthly Science Fiction magazines will have the small size. 

 The controversy over the reprint question seems to be getting warm. There are a good many letters on the subject in this issue both pro and con. In fact, there were more "con" letters in this issue than all the previous issues combined. However, the "pros" are more than holding their own, and I believe that if a vote was held they would be in the majority. --Michael Fogaris, 157 Fourth St. , Passaic, N. J. 

_Prefers More Science_

 Dear Editor:

 The size of Astounding Stories now is O. K. Only it would be better if it was thicker than it is, even if you have to raise the price five cents. I like the Edgar Rice Burroughs stories and wish you would have them in your magazine. 

 In the November issue, "The Wall of Death" wasn't any good; "The Pirate Planet" was good: "The Destroyer" was fair; "The Gray Plague" was very good; "Vagabonds of Space" was excellent, but I didn't like the ending. "Jetta of the Lowlands" was fair. I don't like the stories by Victor Rousseau very much. 

 I don't want any reprints and I think you should cut the pages even. I wish you would have some true Science Fiction stories with more science in them. --Alvin Wasserman, 339 N. 6th St. , Allentown, Pa. 

"_Fits Book Case_"

 Dear Editor:

 I have read every issue of Astounding Stories yet produced. Keep the magazine the same size, as it conveniently fits in a book rack or book case. I like stories on chemistry and physics, also stories narrating the exploits of Dr. Bird. I think your November issue is the best one yet. My favorite story so far is "The Gray Plague. " I did not like "Beyond the Heaviside Layer. " The illustrations are fine. Well, I guess it's about time for me to sign off. --Henry Seitz, 1732 Summerfield St. , Brooklyn, N. Y. 

_Suggestions from Australia_

 Dear Editor:

 I have accepted your invitation to join "The Readers' Corner" and give criticism on your magazine. I will criticize the recent stories first, and divide them into three classes: good, medium and bad. 

 August: "The Lord of Space, " "The Second Satellite, " "Silver Dome, " "The Flying City, " good. "The Planet of Dread, " medium. 

 September: "Marooned under the Sea, " "The Terrible Tentacles of L-472, " good. "Problem in Communication, " medium. "Murder Machine, " bad. 

 Serials: "Brigands of the Moon, " good. "Murder Madness, " good, but I don't consider it a suitable story for this type of magazine. "Earth, the Marauder, " good, but the end was too hurried. I wonder why the gnomes of Luar were brought into the story; I don't see that they serve any useful purpose there. 

 There seems to be a hand-rail around the submarines on the cover of the April number. If this is so, it is out of proportion. And don't you think that such monsters as those in "The Moon Master" would need more to eat than just the few herbivorous animals that could exist on the fungus vegetation?

 I think that your magazine would be much better if printed on smoother paper and cut evenly. I am sure that no one would mind the extra cost of the book. And why not call "The Readers' Corner" something more appropriate, such as the "Observatory, " or the "Microscope, " or something, anyway, that deals with science?--P. Leadbeater, Drysdale, Victoria, Australia. 

_Thanks Very Much_

 Dear Editor:

 I would like to shake hands with Mr. P. Schuyler Miller. He has given us such conclusive and unopposable proof for reprints in his letter printed in the November issue, that there is hardly anything more to be said. All we ask (by "we, " I mean those thousands of Readers who are eagerly waiting for a story of which they have heard so much) is one good reprint. That is, one a year. During the year 1930, Astounding Stories has published five novels. Can you not publish four new novels and one reprint in 1931? It amounts to much the same thing. 

 Also, there are other magazines which publish Science Fiction and these would see to it that the good authors did not starve. The bad ones, however, deserve to. Especially when some poor misguided Editor accepts their stuff. No, Mr. Bates, I am not placing you in that category. The stories you publish certainly show that you are not misguided. Quite the opposite. At a vote taken among the members of the Scienceers last week, the results showed that reprints were unanimously wanted. In my opinion, Astounding Stories is best fitted for the publishing of reprints because of the high standard it has preserved throughout the year of its existence. 

 I have been directed, Mr. Bates, because of the great work you have accomplished in popularizing science through Science Fiction, and because of the keen enjoyment you have given the Scienceers during 1930, to inform you that you have been elected an honorary member of the Scienceers. 

 The Scienceers is now taking a vote among all its members to find out their favorite stories of 1930. That is, in Science Fiction. We want to find the five best serials, and the ten best short stories of the year. First returns indicate that Astounding Stories captured most of the honors. "Murder Madness, " "Brigands of the Moon" and "Earth, the Marauder" having places among the serials. About six of the ten short stories were also published in Astounding Stories. 

 I close with best wishes from all Scienceers for a bigger and better year for Astounding Stories. Happy birthday!--Nathan Greenfeld, President, Scienceers, 873 Whitlock Avenue, New York, New York. 

_Words Are Weak_

 Dear Editor:

 It was a terrible storm!

 The thunder roared; the lightning flashed; the wind howled; the tempest beat through the night, bearing on its fleet winds of darkness a torrent of driving, splattering rain. Splintering darts of lightning crackled through the raging storm, their crystalline reflection caught in the driving sheets of watery spray; their swift illumination lighting but dimly a rocky shore beaten and tossed by black lashing waves of the angry ocean. And, upon that ragged, element-swept shore, cowered the Searcher. 

 He crouched there in the darkness, his muffled figure swaying to the fierce tug of the wind and the impact of the driving rain. Water ran in streams from his drenched clothing. The icy breath of the wind pierced through to his soul like so many needles of death. Placing a gaunt, weary hand above his brow he strained his vision to pierce out into the darkness. 

 And suddenly the storm ceased. The rain disappeared with a last futile spray, and the dark clouds overhead parted sullenly to reveal a cold frozen moon of silver. The thousands of tiny aberrations in the tossing wavelets on the ocean's bottom sent steely reflection of the moon's luminescence in sparkling sheens to the Searcher's eyes. For long he hung there motionless, a gaunt shadow peering into the distant darkness of the horizon. But abruptly--

 He started. He has sighted an object floating inward upon the tide. Running swiftly along the shore, he seized it eagerly as it fell to the shore at his feet. With a wild cry of exuberant delight he threw himself down upon the sands to scan its pages. It was a copy of Astounding Stories! Yes!

 Out of the great ocean of magazine fiction it had come to the Searcher's eyes, the magazine supreme--Astounding Stories! A magazine which was new, a magazine which expressed something new in an entirely different way! A thing super-ordinary, it was--a boon to the tired fiction reader. 

 Yessirree! Something new and in a different way! You bet that's what I like, and that's why I halted, hearkened, and hastened to the newsstands to buy that new magazine, Astounding Stories. New authors!--a breath of delicious novelty!--the magazine of to-morrow's romance and the super-science thereof! Why, it's almost too good to be true, and here am I, ready to take that new mag to hand and make it our own. 

 Yes, I think we can call it "our" own, for with the installation of Astounding Stories comes the new epic of the magazine, a magazine which is made by the reader. Sure nuff--our wants and whims rule the magazine; so it's surely "ours, " and I mean possessively!

 So, Readers all, I'm going to take my part of the magazine this day and operate on it, no matter what Mr. Bates thinks or cares about it. Yes, sir. 

 First, I'm creating a new department of a page which prints the picture of the most popular author (as voted for by the reader) and which gives a brief synopsis of his life. Once his picture has been printed, that's enough. Next time a new author. 

 And then I'm filling that magazine with new "different" stories, daring in aspect beyond ordinary Science Fiction, more glorious by far than any predecessors. 

 And now, the rest of you Readers, what are you going to do with your share? As I have said, I am going to do what I want with my part even if we have to split up the magazine and pass a page all around. There's just a lot of you Readers who look at a magazine, and, because it isn't your ideal, pass it up and go down the line passing up all the magazines. Take it from me, you'll never find your ideal. 

 Savvy? The only way to get that ideal is to step in and take a hand. Make your ideal! A magazine must be fashioned to the reader's wants! The fact is our weapon, and believe me I'm beaning Mr. Bates a smacking good one with it. As I said, the magazine is ours, and my part in it surely is going to be more daring in tone, thought and structure than any paltry nowaday Science Fiction! Reach out into the imagination, stretch your faintest and most super-ordinary scientific hypothesis to its vaguest straining point, and produce--

 A real, honest-to-goodness, glorious he-man action magazine of Science Fiction!

 I mean it! And that's how my page is gonna be, and I'll bet that I have made my page of that future idealistic magazine, merely by writing this letter! How about it, Mr. Bates?

 Aren't we all signed up as associate editors for the future "ideal magazine?"--Tom Olog, 940--5th St. , San Bernardino, Calif. 

_Right! One on Us_

 Dear Editor:

 I have been following with great interest Ray Cummings' latest piece, "Jetta of the Lowlands, " which is rather unique in its ideas. In a recent issue Mr. Cummings explained to his readers that the flyer was made invisible by bending the light rays around it. This in itself is quite plausible, but when he tells us he could see the land below them, and the other flyer, we have to draw a line. It is quite plain that if the light is bent away from the hull of the flyer that no light will come to the eyes within, and that the invisibility will be more of a hindrance than an advantage. However, it was a good story and we know that authors cannot be perfect any more than ordinary humans can. 

 I am wishing you the best of luck for your second year, which you will soon enter!--W. Johnston, New York City. 

_A Riddle_

 Dear Editor:

 I have only read two issues of Astounding Stories. These two have determined me to continue reading A. S. Until I grow broke or give up my ghost. 

 The only brickbats that you are going to get are: Use a better grade of paper and bind the magazines more securely. Your stories are O. K. In fact there is only one story in the two issues (October and November), that I did not give a darn about, and that was "The Extra Man, " by Jackson Gee. 

 As I have been a reader of Science Fiction for the past four years I think that I know a little about a good story when I read one. 

 And last but not least, I have a riddle to ask you. 

 Question: What is the difference between an egg and a copy of Astounding Stories?

 Answer: When an egg falls it busts. But when a copy of Astounding Stories falls only the cover comes off. 

 A steady reader from now on. --Edward Anderson, 929 S. Westlake Ave. , Los Angeles, Calif. 

"_High Literary Quality_"

 Dear Editor:

 Just a few words to express my appreciation of the consistently high standard of stories which have so far appeared in Astounding Stories. I was mainly inspired to write to you by those two fine stories, "Brigands of the Moon, " by Ray Cummings and "Murder Madness, " by Murray Leinster. The former was one of the year's best interplanetary stories, and the latter a very fine adventure yarn. As well as being of scientific interest, these stories held my interest to the end by reason of their high literary quality and the fact that they did not lack excitement. I am afraid that these two qualities are lacking in a large number of Science Fiction stories. I would suggest that you accept these stories as a standard for the magazine. --A. M. D. Pender, 201, Red Lion Road, Tolworth, Surbiton, Surrey, England. 

_Expert Testimony_

 Dear Editor:

 We had quite a little discussion at a recent meeting of The Scienceers as to why all of us consider Astounding Stories the best Science Fiction magazine printed to-day. One reason to which all of us agreed was your endless variety of good continued stories. They always have a new twist about them. I read a number of Science Fiction magazines each month. None of them comes anywhere near Astounding Stories as to the quality of the stories printed. On both long and short stories they rank way below the Astounding standard. 

 Your best writer is Ray Cummings, with Harl Vincent and R. F. Starzl close behind. I consider "Vagabonds of space, " by Harl Vincent, as the best story I have read so far. Ask Mr. Vincent to give us a sequel. --Herbert Smith, Sec. , Scienceers, 2791 Grand Concourse, Bronx, New York City. 

"_Heads My List_"

 Dear Editor:

 I'm accepting your kind invitation to come over to "The Readers' Corner" and express my opinion of your magazine. 

 I like it immensely. I read all the Science Fiction I can, and your magazine heads my list. I think the serial "The Pirate Planet, " is as interesting a story as any I've read. Astounding Stories improves with every issue. --Dorothea Cutler, P. O. Box 122, Mesa, Arizona. 

_Two Problems_

 Dear Editor:

 My last letter was entirely commendatory, but this time I am losing the full force of my critical powers (?) on the story "Marooned Under the Sea, " by Paul Ernst. In this story the characters descend to the depths of the ocean by means of a large glass sphere. Mr. Ernst mentions the terrific strain on the supporting cable caused by the weight of the sphere. He quite overlooks the fact that it would float. As a matter of fact the sphere, not counting its contents, weighs about 3, 511, 520 lbs. --less than an equal amount of water. Hard to believe, but true, as the figures show. The formula for the volume of a sphere is V equals pi 1/2 diameter cubed. It is a pretty little problem. Also, there was no need to break the helmets of the Quabos, since the hoses could be cut with an ax. However, it was a fine story. Let's have more like it. 

 Here is another problem. X equals wonderful. Y equals superb. Z equals marvelous. XYZ equals Astounding Stories. Yes? No?

 You are getting many requests to change your size. Don't do it. As it is now, it is just the size to carry conveniently, or put in your pocket. It is easier to read, too. Don't change your grade of paper, either. Glazed paper is hard on the eyes. I join my fervent prayers to those who wish the edges cut smooth, however. It is hard to turn to the page you want, with the deckle edge you now have. 

 "Earth, the Marauder" was wonderful. Too bad it wasn't longer. "The Pirate Planet" is fine. Dr. Bird is keeping up the good work. Some of his stories are a bit far-fetched, but that is no drawback. 

 I notice that some authors repeat themselves. I read "Brigands of the Moon, " by Cummings, and also his story, "Tarrano the Conqueror. " The weapons used in both stories are identical--Hugh M. Gilmore, 11307 N. Orange Drive, Hollywood, California. 

_Concerning "Indisputable Data"_

 Dear Editor:

 From the time Astounding Stories first made its debut, I have been a rabid and enthusiastic reader of your excellent publication. As yet, I have never missed an issue, and only a physical incapability could compel me to. The unlimited amount of pleasure derived from your magazine is beyond compensation. Your selections are varied, interesting and based on cold, scientific logic, barring minor discrepancies. My whole-hearted approval, commendation and good wishes go to you for your remarkably fine work. Continue along the lines you are now pursuing, and I feel assured your magazine will outrival all others in circulation, as it already does in literature. 

 Perhaps I have been a trifle flowery, but I also have a criticism to make. Why do these skeptical and scientifically disposed critics continue to waste your valuable time picking scientific flaws in various stories? Some of the amateur experts' opinions really serve as a comic sequel after a night of interesting reading. If they would only stop to realize that some of their most indisputable data is merely hypothesis, the criticisms might be more lenient. 

 I am certainly enjoying "The Pirate Planet, " by Charles W. Diffin, in the current issue. It is exceptionally well-written, and I am looking forward to more work by his pen. Other stories of merit are "Gray Denim, " by Harl Vincent and "Slaves of the Dust, " by S. W. Ellis. 

 Well, I guess I've unburdened myself enough for one evening. I give you many thanks for hours of enjoyable recreation, and wish everlasting success to your illustrious magazine and the personnel that makes it possible. --Mortimer Weisinger, 266 Van Cortland Ave. , Bronx, N. Y. 

_A Letter from England_

 Dear Editor:

 You will no doubt be surprised at receiving a letter of appreciation of your really stunning magazine from England. And here let me say as an aside, that I think Americans are very fortunate in having publishing concerns who are not afraid of publishing a modern book like Astounding Stories. In England I am considered abnormal minded because of my fondness for Science Fiction. We have nothing like it in our bookshops, where the stereotyped thriller and prosaic life and adventure novels are popular to the majority of English Readers. 

 Unfortunately, my file is incomplete by the June, July, August and September issues. My only kick is that "Brigands of the Moon" remains unfinished for me; and "Murder Madness" whetted my palate for more. Still I am happy to be now in regular contact with the mag and hope for more stories like the above. Now for my only brickbat. Of all the stories I have read, "The Wall of Death" is the only one I dislike; and the worst of it is that it was written by Victor Rousseau, who is one of my favorite authors. The story is horribly reminiscent of the old Greek myth of the Minotaur, which it resembles in many phases. Still, this is an exception that proves Victor Rousseau's stories to be of high average value. And I shall expect to see more of him. 

 As regards bouquets, I can only say that each succeeding magazine is more astounding, more wonderful and of better value than the last. Of your authors I class as favorites S. P. Meek, C. W. Diffin, Murray Leinster, Harl Vincent, Ray Cummings and S. P. Wright among others, not forgetting Victor Rousseau. In the current edition I think "The Pirate Planet" is going strong; and "Gray Denim" is a peach of a story, as is also "The Ape-Men of Xloti. " I like extra-dimensional stories of which I see you have one in your next issue, so roll on, January! I should like to see Astounding Stories printed more often, or else have a brother mag. The mag itself stands pat as it is, and more power to your authors' elbows! You will please excuse my bad penmanship, but since the war, in which I served throughout, I cannot altogether control the nerves of my right hand when writing. 

 I wish you a prosperous future with Astounding Stories!--Leo Greenhill, 5 Market Terrace, St. Leonards on Sea, Sussex, England. 

"_At Last It's Come_"

 Dear Editor:

 I have read all the issues of your magazine from the July issue to the December, and it sure fills a long felt need in Science Fiction. Ever since I knew what an atom was I've been longing for just such a mag, and at last it's come. You sure deserve credit, and lots of it. You were better at the very start than your competitors ever will be, and that's saying a lot, as they're pretty good. By the way, you may have noticed that one of them has come down to your size and price since your mag came out. That's proof against big mags. They're awful. However, I would not mind an Astounding Stories quarterly, and I'd gladly pay fifty cents for one. As to reprints, I'm in favor of them. I think a story by Edgar Rice Burroughs running in your mag each month would make it just about perfect. 

 As to your authors and stories, they're good as a general rule; however, you've made some pretty bad slips at times, such as "The Invisible Death, " by Victor Rousseau, "The Wall of Death, " by the same man, "Slaves of the Dust, " "Gray Denim" and "The Ape-Men of Xloti. " In fact, the December issue was pretty poor for you. I hope you make up for it next month. 

 When it comes to artists I think that Wesso takes the cake, especially in drawing machinery, etc. However, Gould is good on people and inanimate things, and I don't think you should drop him as many seem to wish. I like Wesso's covers very much, and I don't think they are too gaudy for a magazine like yours. 

 I like nearly all Science Fiction stories if they are written well, but especially I lean toward interplanetary, atomic adventure and prehistoric stories. I do not care so much for murders, wars, mind control, etc. I notice that you have never printed a story of prehistoric conditions existing at present on some part of the earth or universe, and I would like to see one of this type. I like serials only if they do not get boresome; and a lot of them do. That is the trouble. I think that the love interest in your stories is a good point, and should be encouraged in your authors. And I also think there should be more interplanetary friendship than hatred, and that the heroes should fight beasts rather than men, as a rule, in your stories. 

 Just one more thing before I close. I think that Astounding Stories should have more than one department. I would like to see a list of scientific terms defined each month; a department for answering scientific questions; and some kind of fraternity of Science Fiction Readers with membership cards, some kind of emblems, and possibly an entrance test of some kind. Seriously, now, why not consider this and take up a vote among your Readers to see what they think? You could cut down on "The Readers' Corner" for them without using much more space, or you could enlarge the mag a little. What say?

 Well, I'm about out of Z-ray so I guess I'll come back to earth and refuel with the January issue, which will be out soon. So long and good luck. --Frank Missman, Jr. , V. E. R. (Very Enthusiastic Reader), 739 N. Alexandria, Los Angeles, Calif. 

_Gr-r-r--She's Mad!_

 Dear Editor:

 Gr-r-r, now I am mad! I do wish that people who want a regular instruction book of a magazine would kindly refrain from spending their valuable pennies on ours. 

 And if Mr. Johnston of Newark believes us who like A. S. To be morons, why let's be morons! for when ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise. I'd like to inform this highly intelligent person that our mag is dealing with pure Science Fiction, and why should any author go into detail describing how cities are made to float and why invisible cloaks are invisible? Why, if every paragraph were broken off to let us know how this or that is possible, I'm sure we'd all be yawning and nodding over the magazine, and finally discard it entirely in search of something more to our liking!

 Why waste your time, Mr. Johnston, telling us you don't like A. S. ? Just don't purchase it, if it isn't to your liking. We're satisfied with what we have. 

 What if the stories are like fairy tales? Isn't all fiction more or less of a fairy tale? I want Mr. Johnston to get this point: what we want is fiction, pure Science Fiction and not instructions. We read A. S. As a pleasure. We do not have to be scientists just because we are interested in science!

 "The Wall of Death" was grand. It's somewhat terrorizing and gruesome, but I get a big "kick" out of such horrors. However, I hope nothing like that would ever happen, 'cause I'm 18 years old, and I'd be among the first ones to be chosen for those mad half-human jelly-fishes, without a doubt. 

 I shudder to think that meteors could be hurled from one planet to another and then have some kind of machine, with people in it, on the inside of the meteor. But the hero of "The Gray Plague" surely proved himself a hero, in spite of his handicap. I relish the idea of that Venusian instrument, by which one can learn all from another within a few minutes. Something for our students who cannot seem to learn anything. 

 Here's one point that I don't like: Why are all those invaders from other planets hostile? Why can't they go on an exploring expedition to our Earth? C'm'on, you Authors--get busy!

 "The Pirate Planet" has me all hot and bothered, and my brain in a muddle how any craft of such dimension can move through space with such speed. As the story has just started, I can't say much about it, but here's hoping the captured hero conquers the hostile invaders and comes home with bells on and colors flying, as all good stories should end. 

 That Sargasso Sea, in "Vagabonds of Space, " reminds me of a Halloween ghost. And it was just as bad as a ghost, too. After having been scattered once, it just coolly collects itself into twice its size. Br-r-r--that gives me the chills. Howsoever, nevertheless, be that as it may, I will say that I liked it so much that I'm asking for more like it. 

 Another word to ye Authors: Please do not always have the girls in your stories such sweet little bundles of humanity. Aren't there any tall girls in your imaginations? Please give us tall girls a break once in a while. It makes me feel better. Thanks. --Gertrude Hemken, 5730 So. Oshland Ave. , Chicago, Ill. 

"_Also Amazed . .. But--_"

 Dear Editor:

 Since my good friend, Forrest Ackerman has undertaken to suggest an author whose works would be enjoyed by your readers, I will add two more to your "should have" list. They are Francis Flagg, an author who is freely engraved in the minds of all Science Fiction lovers as a genius at writing time-traveling and dimensional stories, and Jack Williamson, a shark for new plots and inventions and one who knows how to put romance into a story. 

 Although I doubt whether the Editor himself can secure stories from these two famed authors, (Wrong! At this time we have two or three stories by Jack Williamson waiting their turn to be published!--Ed. ) I hope they may see our wants and favor us with a tale in the near future. 

 I agree with George E. Addison in that Miles J. Bruer is a "wow" in other magazines, but I emphatically disagree in that he does not belong in Astounding Stories. Maybe "A Problem in Communication" wasn't as good as some others he has written, but do you think he will honor us with a real good story if he, himself, gets such a welcome as Mr. Addison gave him? If you have faith in "the good old Doc, " I am sure he will feel encouraged and consequently be spurred to greater heights. 

 As for Mr. C. E. Bush: I am also amazed by some of the letters in "The Readers' Corner, " but not from those who take their literature too seriously. Rather, from those who write letters such as his. If he doesn't care whether a story is scientifically possible or not, why, then, doesn't he read Anderson's Fairy Tales or some of the Oz books?--Jim H. Nicolson, 40 Lunado Way, San Francisco, Calif. 

"_Shrewd, " Yet Somehow Obtuse!_

 Dear Editor:

 I like your magazine. By this, I do not mean that it is the best Science Fiction periodical, for it assuredly is not; but it is the most reliable. I am sure when I pick up your magazine that I shall find therein consistently interesting stories. I have yet to find a story that failed to hold my attention; on the other hand, I have yet to find a masterpiece. Of all the Editors, you have shown yourself the shrewdest judge of public taste, but also the least interested in the advancement of Science Fiction. 

 Your authors are among the leading lights in Science Fiction; yet, strangely, the days when they submit their offerings to Astounding Stories seem to be "off days. " Not one of them has given us a story to equal his best for the other magazines. For instance, Ray Cummings has yet to write a story for you as entertaining as "The Girl in the Golden Atom" or his others. Speaking of Cummings, I wish he would take a course in grammar. His grammatical atrocities--such as sentences without predicates--are eye-wracking. 

 The main purpose of this letter, however, is to offer a fervent plea for reprints. I am unalterably opposed to your short-sighted policy in regard to the reprinting of old Science Fiction tales long out of print. You made an utterly asinine statement when you declared that 99 per cent of your readers have already read these classics. [We did not say that. We said: "Would it be fair to 99 per cent of our Readers to force on them reprint novels they have already read, or had a chance to read?"--Ed. ] I am willing to wager that the percentage is nearer 10 per cent. For instance, can a baby read magazines? You seem to grant them this strange ability. 

 Most of the stories that should be reprinted were published from eight to fifteen years ago, in one other magazine. That automatically excludes all those who have not been constant Readers of that one magazine. In the second place, the average Reader of your magazine is under twenty-one (I am eighteen myself). When the science classics were published, we were anywhere from four to ten years of age. In the third place, relatively few of these stories were published in book form, and these few have for years been out of print. Try to buy "The Moon Pool, " the greatest Science Fiction story ever written, in book form. In the fourth place, even those who were old enough to understand them did not become interested in Science Fiction until several years ago. In the fifth place, the few who have read them--and they are very few--would welcome the chance to re-read them. In the sixth place, and this is the most important reason of all, not one of the stories you have published is worth re-reading, or is even a sixteenth as good as some of the old stories. 

 Take a sporting offer. If you don't, I won't think much of you. Publish just one of the Science Fiction classics, preferably A. Merritt's "Through the Dragon Class, " which so many of your Readers have clamored for and see how gratifying is its reception. If it does receive their acclaim, you could reprint one story in each issue. --J. Vernon Shea, Jr. , 1140 N. Negley Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pa. 

"_Right Formula_"

 Dear Editor:

 I have been a satisfied and silent reader of your magazine, and while I'm still satisfied, I wish to break my silence. 

 A letter by C. E. Bush, of Decatur, Ark. , in the January issue has caught my attention. Miss Bush apparently does not care whether the stories contain science or not. I believe she wants the author to leave out the scientific explanations of the various machines and forces used in the story. To me, an "improbable" story is much more interesting if the author succeeds in making it seem perfectly plausible. The author needs to give technical explanations now and then to do this; and a good author can weave these facts into the fiction in such a manner that they are not dry. 

 For some reason, the letter by M. Clifford Johnston, of Newark, N. J. , antagonizes me. I am willing to admit that there are--or were--one or two stories that showed a definite lack of scientific explanation in certain parts, yet I do not believe that all the issues can be condemned because of these few stories. Mr. Johnston is apparently the opposite of Miss Bush. He, from the "sound" of his letter, revels in scientific explanations. On the whole I've enjoyed practically every story, and am thankful to you for your magazine. I believe that most of the authors have found the right formula for mixing their explanations with the story so that such technical discussions are complete without being dry. 

 I enjoy the novelettes more than either the short stories or the serials. The serials are all right, but a month is too long to let the hero or heroine suffer. Imagine how WE suffer, too, from the suspense!

 If either Miss Bush or Mr. Johnston feel that they have been misunderstood and wronged in any way I shall be glad to either apologize or vindicate myself in a personal letter to them. 

 May Astounding Stories continue to improve!--Ben Smith, Box 1542, Butte, Montana. 

_Fiction's the Thing!_

 Dear Editor:

 Hurrah for Mr. Lorenzo's letter in January's "The Readers' Corner"! For a half year already, all other Science Fiction magazines have had to struggle along without my patronage, also. For the same reason as Mr. Lorenzo gives, I want to heartily congratulate you, Mr. Editor, on your magazine. 

 I have read Science Fiction stories since the first magazine of its kind ever appeared in print. They started out good, but in the last few years have utterly degenerated into a collection of dry, drawn-out lectures. 

 Also, C. E. Bush's letter should be rated as 100 per cent correct. We want FICTION mixed with some science, and above all a good plot and lots of action; and if your authors feel so inclined, let them weave a romance into the stories, too. "We read stories to be amused, not for technical information. " I am a radio operator, but I wouldn't think of reading a story for information on the latest transmitter design. 

 Mr. Editor, your choice of authors is par excellence. I can't too highly emphasize this, because we don't want the authors who write for other Science Fiction magazines. Why? Because they can't even write a story that has a semblance of coherence or plot to it, and never any action. If you should ever use any of these writers, I shall give up Science Fiction altogether. Please, Mr. Editor, continue to run Astounding Stories yourself, and don't heed the request of a minority who want dead authors to write dead stories in our magazine. 

 "The Pirate Planet" is the fastest moving, best written interplanetary story I have ever read, and I've read scores. C. W. Diffin surpasses himself. "Vagabonds of Space" was great. Isn't a sequel possible?

 I have your January issue before me, and although I haven't read it yet, I'm delighted to see Murray Leinster with us again. He's excellent. I can't figure out how you can afford so many top-notch authors in each issue, but keep it up, because it's the life of your magazine. As Mr. Addison says in his letter, "Why ruin a truly great magazine by catering to a misguided minority?" and printing flops by cheap writers, who are ruining other Science Fiction magazines?

 Forgive me for so much repetition, Mr. Editor; run your magazine "as is" and I'll continue to be an interested reader. --P. C. Favre, 124 Columbia Heights, Brooklyn, N. Y. 

_For Blushers_

 Dear Editor:

 I noticed in a letter in the December number of Astounding Stories that one of your Readers thinks your covers too gaudy. In fact, he blushes when he buys it. If he feels that way about it, why doesn't he subscribe to it and take the cover off when he reads it? I believe that the majority of your Readers like your covers and illustrations, and are not afraid to let people see them reading Astounding Stories. 

 I wish that you could have a long novelette like "The Ape-Men of Xloti" in every issue of "our" magazine. The longer stories are most always the more interesting. That is one of the reasons why I like book-length serials. 

 Why should Five-Novels Monthly get all the breaks? I am sure that you as the Editor of "our" magazine think Astounding Stories the best magazine published by Mr. Clayton. I should think that you would like to see it published in as good an edition as F. N. M. I am pretty sure that the majority of your Readers would not mind paying five cents more for many more pages of fiction, smooth-cut edges, and a better grade of paper. --Jack Darrow, 4225 N. Spaulding Avenue, Chicago, Illinois. 

"_The Readers' Corner_"

All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "comeover in 'The Readers' Corner', " and join in our monthly discussion ofstories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities--everythingthat's of common interest in connection with our Astounding Stories. 

Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, thisis a department primarily for _Readers_, and we want you to make fulluse of it. Likes, dislikes, criticisms, explanations, roses, brickbats, suggestions--everything's welcome here; so "come over in'The Readers' Corner'" and discuss it with all of us!

_The Editor. _

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