[Illustration:]

 ASTOUNDING

 STORIES

 OF SUPER-SCIENCE

 20˘

 _On Sale the First Thursday of Each Month_

W. M. CLAYTON, Publisher HARRY BATES, Editor DOUGLAS M. DOLD, Consulting Editor

The Clayton Standard on a Magazine Guarantees:

 _That_ the stories therein are clean, interesting, vivid; by leading writers of the day and purchased under conditions approved by the Authors' League of America;

 _That_ such magazines are manufactured in Union shops by American workmen;

 _That_ each newsdealer and agent is insured a fair profit;

 _That_ an intelligent censorship guards their advertising pages. 

 _The other Clayton magazines are_:

ACE-HIGH MAGAZINE, RANCH ROMANCES, COWBOY STORIES, CLUES, FIVE-NOVELSMONTHLY, WIDE WORLD ADVENTURES, ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, RANGELANDLOVE STORY MAGAZINE, WESTERN ADVENTURES, _and_ FOREST AND STREAM

_More Than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demandfor Clayton Magazines. _

 * * * * *

VOL. II, No. 2 CONTENTS MAY, 1930

COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSOLOWSKI

 _Painted in Water-colors from a Scene in_ "_The Atom-Smasher_. "

INTO THE OCEAN'S DEPTHS SEWELL PEASLEE WRIGHT 151

 _To Save Imee's Race of Men-Who-Returned-To-The-Sea, Two Land-Men Answer the Challenge of the Dreaded Rorn, Corsairs of the Under-Seas. _

MURDER MADNESS MURRAY LEINSTER 166

 _Murder Madness! Seven Secret Service Men Had Completely Disappeared. Another Had Been Found a Screaming, Homicidal Maniac, Whose Fingers Writhed Like Snakes. So Bell, of the Secret "Trade, " Plunges into South America After The Master--the Mighty, Unknown Octopus of Power Whose Diabolical Poison Threatens a Continent!_ (_Beginning a Four-part Novel. _)

BRIGANDS OF THE MOON RAY CUMMINGS 195

 _Gregg and Anita Risk Quick, Sure Death in a Desperate Bluff on the Ruthless Martian Brigands. _ (_Part Three of a Four-part Novel. _)

THE JOVIAN JEST LILITH LORRAINE 228

 _There Came to Our Pigmy Planet a Radiant Wanderer with a Message--and a Jest--from the Vasty Universe. _

THE ATOM-SMASHER VICTOR ROUSSEAU 234

 _Four Destinies Rocket Through the Strange Time-Space of the Fourth Dimension in Tode's Marvelous Atom-Smasher. _ (_A Complete Novelette. _)

THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 277

 _A Meeting Place for Readers of Astounding Stories. _

Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents) Yearly Subscription, $2. 00

Issued monthly by Publishers' Fiscal Corporation, 80 Lafayette St. , New York, N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Nathan Goldmann, Secretary. Application for entry as second-class mail pending at the Post Officeat New York, under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a TradeMark in the U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men's List. For advertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co. , Inc. , 25 VanderbiltAve. , New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave. , Chicago. 

 * * * * *

Into the Ocean's Depths

A Sequel to "From the Ocean's Depths"

_By Sewell Peaslee Wright_

[Illustration: The two shark-faced creatures were dragging at my armsand legs. ]

[Sidenote: To save Imee's race of Men-Who-Returned-To-The-Sea, twoLand-Men answer the challenge of the dreaded Rorn, corsairs of theunder-seas. ]

I read the telegram for the second time. Then I folded it up, put itin my pocket, and pressed the little button on my desk. My mind wasmade up. 

"Miss Fentress, I'm leaving this afternoon on an extended trip. TheFlorida address will reach me after Thursday. Tell Wade and Bennett tocarry on. I think you have everything in hand? Is everything clear toyou?"

"Yes, Mr. Taylor. " Miss Fentress was not in the least surprised. Shewas used to my sudden trips. The outfit got along perfectly withoutme; sometimes I think my frequent absences are good for the business. The boys work like the devil to make a fine showing while I'm away. And Miss Fentress is a perfect gem of a secretary. I had nothing toworry about there. 

"Fine! Will you get my diggings on the phone?" I hurriedly put my fewpapers in place, and signed a couple of letters. Then Josef was on thewire. 

"Josef? Pack my bags right away, will you? For Florida. The usualthings. .. . Yes, right away. I'll be leaving by noon. .. . Yes, drivingthrough. "

 * * * * *

That was that. There were a few more letters to sign, a few hastyinstructions to be given regarding one or two matters that werehanging fire. Then, on my way to my bachelor apartments, I read thetelegram through again:

 THINK IT WORTH WHILE IF YOU FEEL ADVENTUROUS AND HAVE NOTHING PRESSING TO COME TO THE MONSTROSITY STOP MAKE YOUR WILL FIRST STOP SHALL LOOK FOR YOU ANY DAY AS I KNOW YOU ARE ALWAYS LOOKING FOR EXCITEMENT AND NEVER HAVE ANYTHING IMPORTANT TO DO SO DON'T BOTHER TO WIRE STOP PERHAPS WE SHALL SEE HER AGAIN

 MERCER

I smiled at Mercer's frank opinion of my disposition and my importanceto my business. But I frowned over the admonition to make my will, andthe last telling statement in the wire: "Perhaps we shall see heragain. " I knew whom he meant by "her. "

Josef had my bags waiting for me. A few hurried instructions, most ofthem shouted over my shoulder, and I was purring down the main drag, my duffel in the rumble, and the roadster headed due south. 

"Perhaps we shall see her again. " Those words from the telegram keptcoming before my eyes. Mercer knew what he was about, if he wanted mycompany, when he put that line in his wire. 

 * * * * *

I have already told the story of our first meeting with the strangebeing from the ocean's depths that, wounded and senseless, had beenflung up on the beach near Warren Mercer's Florida estate. In all thehistory of civilization, no stranger bit of flotsam had ever been castup by a storm. 

Neither of us would ever forget that slim white creature, swathed inher veil of long, light golden hair, as she crouched on the bottom ofMercer's swimming pool, and pictured for us, by means of Mercer'sthought-telegraph (my own name for the device; he has a long andscientific title for it with as many joints as a centipede), the storyof her people. 

They had lived in a country of steaming mist, when the world was veryyoung. They had been forced into the sea to obtain food, and aftermany generations they had gone back to the sea as man once emergedfrom it. They had grown webs on their hands and feet, and theybreathed oxygen dissolved in water, as fishes do, instead of taking itfrom the atmosphere. And under the mighty Atlantic, somewhere, weretheir villages. 

The girl had pictured all these things for us, and then--nearly a yearago, now--she had pleaded with us to let her return to her people. Andso we had put her back into the sea, and she had bade us farewell. Butjust before she disappeared, she had done a strange thing. 

 * * * * *

She had pointed, under the water, out towards the depth, and then, with a broad, sweeping motion of her arm, she had indicated the shore, as though to promise, it seemed to me, that she intended to return. 

And now, Mercer said, we might see her again! How? Mercer, conservative and scientific, was not the man to make rash promises. But how. .. ?

The best way to solve the riddle was to reach Mercer, and I broke thespeed laws of five states three days running. 

I did not even stop at my own little shack. It was only four milesfrom there to the huge, rather neglected estate, built in boom timesby some newly-rich promoter, and dubbed by Mercer "The Monstrosity. "

Hardly bothering to slow down, I turned off the concrete onto thelong, weed-grown gravel drive, and shot between the two massive, stuccoed pillars that guarded the drive. Their corroded bronze plates, bearing the original title of the estate, "The Billows, " were apromise that my long, hard drive was nearly at an end. 

 * * * * *

As soon as the huge, rambling structure was fairly in sight, I pressedthe flat of my hand on the horn button. By the time I came to alocked-wheel halt, with the gravel rattling on my fenders, Mercer wasthere to greet me. 

"It's ten o'clock, " he grinned as he shook hands. "I'd set noon as thehour of your arrival. You certainly must have made time, Taylor!"

"I did!" I nodded rather grimly, recalling one or two narrow squeaks. "But who wouldn't, with a wire like this?" I produced the crumpledtelegram rather dramatically. "You've got a lot to explain. "

"I know it. " Mercer was quite serious now. "Come on in and we'll mixhighballs with the story. "

Locked arm in arm, we entered the house together, and settledourselves in the huge living room. 

Mercer, I could see at a glance, was thinner and browner than when wehad parted, but otherwise, he was the same lithe, soft-mannered littlescientist I had known for years; dark-eyed, with an almost beautifulmouth, outlined by a slim, closely cropped and very black moustache. 

"Well, here's to our lady from the sea, " proposed Mercer, when Carson, his man, had brought the drinks and departed. I nodded, and we bothsipped our highballs. 

"Briefly, " said my friend, "this is the story. You and I know thatsomewhere beneath the Atlantic there are a people who went back towhence they came. We have seen one of those people. I propose that, since they cannot come to us, we go to them. I have made preparationsto go to them, and I wanted you to have the opportunity of going withme, if you wish. "

"But how, Mercer? And what--"

 * * * * *

He interrupted with a quick, nervous gesture. 

"I'll show you, presently. I believe it can be done. It will be adangerous adventure, though; I was not joking when I advised you tomake your will. An uncertain venture, too. But, I believe, mostwonderfully worth while. " His eyes were shining now with all theenthusiasm of the scientist, the dreamer. 

"It sounds mighty appealing, " I said. "But how. .. . "

"Finish your drink and I'll show you. "

I downed what was left of my highball in two mighty gulps. 

"Lead me to it, Mercer!"

He smiled his quiet smile and led the way to what had been thebilliard room of "The Billows, " but which was the laboratory of "TheMonstrosity. " The first thing my eyes fell upon were two gleamingmetal objects suspended from chains let into the ceiling. 

"Diving suits, " explained Mercer. "Rather different from anythingyou've ever seen. "

They were different. The body was a perfect globe, as was thehead-piece. The legs were cylindrical, jointed at knee and thigh withhuge discs. The feet were solid metal, curved rocker-like on thebottom, and at the ends of the arms were three hooked talons, theconcave sides of two talons facing the concave side of the third. Thearms were hinged at the elbow just as the legs were hinged, but therewas a huge ball-and-socket joint at the shoulder. 

 * * * * *

"But Mercer!" I protested. "No human being could even stand up withthat weight of metal on and around him!"

"You're mistaken, Taylor, " smiled Mercer. "That is not solid metal, you see. And it is an aluminum alloy that is not nearly as heavy as itlooks. There are two walls, slightly over an inch apart, braced byinnumerable trusses. The fabric is nearly as strong as that much solidmetal, and infinitely lighter. They work all right, Taylor. I know, because I've tried them. "

"And this hump on the back?" I asked, walking around the odd, danglingfigures, hanging like bloated metal skeletons from their chains. Ihad thought the bodies were perfect globes; I could see now that atthe rear there was a humplike excrescence across the shoulders. 

"Air, " explained Mercer. "There are two other tanks inside theglobular body. That shape was adopted, by the way, because a globe canwithstand more pressure than any other shape. And we may have to gowhere pressures are high. "

"And so, " I said, "we don these things and stroll out into theAtlantic looking for the girl and her friends?"

"Hardly. They're not quite the apparel for so long a stroll. Youhaven't seen all the marvels yet. Come along!"

 * * * * *

He led the way through the patio, beside the pool in which our strangevisitor from the depths had lived during her brief stay with us, andout into the open again. As we neared the sea, I became aware, for thefirst time, of a faint, muffled hammering sound, and I glanced atMercer inquiringly. 

"Just a second, " he smiled. "Then--there she is, Taylor!"

I stood still and stared. In a little cove, cradled in a cunning, spidery structure of wood, a submarine rested upon the ways. 

"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "You're going into this right, Mercer!"

"Yes. Because I think it's immensely worth while. But come along andlet me show you the _Santa Maria_--named after the flagship ofColumbus' little fleet. Come on!"

Two men with army automatics strapped significantly to their beltsnodded courteously as we came up. They were the only men in sight, butfrom the hammering going on inside there must have been quite asizeable crew busy in the interior. A couple of raw pine shacks, somelittle distance away, provided quarters for, I judged, twenty orthirty men. 

"Had her shipped down in pieces, " explained Mercer. "The boat thatbrought it lay to off shore and we lightered the parts ashore. Atremendous job. But she'll be ready for the water in a week; ten daysat the latest. "

"You're a wonder, " I said, and I meant it. 

 * * * * *

Mercer patted the red-leaded side of the submarine affectionately. "Later, " he said, "I'll take you inside, but they're busy as the devilin there, and the sound of the hammers fairly makes your head ring. You'll see it all later, anyway--if you feel you'd like to share theadventure with me?"

"Listen, " I grinned as we turned back towards the house, "it'll takemore than those two lads with the pop-guns to keep me out of the_Santa Maria_ when she sails--or dives, or whatever it is she'ssupposed to do!"

Mercer laughed softly, and we walked the rest of the way in silence. Iimagine we were both pretty busy with our thoughts; I know that I was. And several times, as we walked along, I looked back over my shouldertowards the ungainly red monster straddling on her spindling woodenlegs--and towards the smiling Atlantic, glistening serenely in thesun. 

 * * * * *

Mercer was so busy with a thousand and one details that I found myselfvery much in the way if I followed him around, so I decided to loaf. 

For weeks after we had put our strange girl visitor back into the seafrom whence Mercer had taken her, I had watched from a comfortableseat well above the high-water mark that commanded that section ofshore. For I had felt sure by that last strange gesture of hers thatshe meant to return. 

I located my old seat, and I found that it had been used a great dealsince I had left it. There were whole winnows of cigarette butts, someof them quite fresh, all around. Mercer, cold-blooded scientist as hewas, had hoped against hope that she would return too. 

It was a very comfortable seat, in the shade of a little cluster ofpalms, and for the next several days I spent most of my time there, reading and smoking--and watching. No matter how interesting the book, I found myself, every few seconds, lifting my eyes to search the beachand the sea. 

I am not sure, but I think it was the eighth day after my arrival thatI looked up and saw, for the first time, something besides the smilingbeach and the ceaseless procession of incoming rollers. For an instantI doubted what I saw; then, with a cry that stuck in my throat, Idropped my book unheeded to the sand and raced towards the shore. 

 * * * * *

She was there! White and slim, her pale gold hair clinging to her bodyand gleaming like polished metal in the sun, she stood for a moment, while the spray frothed at her thighs. Behind her, crouching below thesurface, I could distinguish two other forms. She had returned, andnot alone!

One long, slim arm shot out toward me, held level with the shoulder:the well-remembered gesture of greeting. Then she too crouched belowthe surface that she might breathe. 

As I ran out onto the wet sand, the waves splashing around my anklesall unheeded, she rose again, and now I could see her lovely smile, and her dark, glowing eyes. I was babbling--I do not know what. BeforeI could reach her, she smiled and sank again below the surface. 

I waded on out, laughing excitedly, and as I came close to her, shebobbed up again out of the spray, and we greeted each other in themanner of her people, hands outstretched, each gripping the shoulderof the other. 

She made a quick motion then, with both hands, as though she placed acap upon the shining glory of her head, and I understood in an instantwhat she wished: the antenna of Mercer's thought-telegraph, by theaid of which she had told us the story of herself and her people. 

 * * * * *

I nodded and smiled, and pointed to the spot where she stood, tryingto show her by my expression that I understood, and by my gesture, that she was to wait here for me. She smiled and nodded in return, andcrouched again below the surface of the heaving sea. 

As I turned toward the beach, I caught a momentary glimpse of the twowho had come with her. They were a man and a woman, watching me withwide, half-curious, half-frightened eyes. I recognized them instantlyfrom the picture she had impressed upon my mind nearly a year ago. Shehad brought with her on her journey her mother and her father. 

Stumbling, my legs shaking with excitement, I ran through the water. With my wet trousers flapping against my ankles, I sprinted towardsthe house. 

I found Mercer in the laboratory. He looked up as I came rushing in, wet from the shoulders down, and I saw his eyes grow suddenly wide. 

 * * * * *

I opened my mouth to speak, but I was breathless. And Mercer took thewords from my mouth before I could utter them. 

"She's come back!" he cried. "She's come back! Taylor--she has?" Hegripped me, his fingers like steel clamps, shaking me with his amazingstrength. 

"Yes. " I found my breath and my voice at the same instant. "She'sthere, just where we put her into the sea, and there are two otherswith her--her mother and her father. Come on, Mercer, and bring yourthought gadget!"

"I can't!" he groaned. "I've built an improvement on it into thediving armor, and a central instrument on the sub, but the oldapparatus is strewn all over the table, here, just as it was when weused it the other time. We'll have to bring her here. "

"Get a basin, then!" I said. "We'll carry her back to the pool just aswe took her from it. Hurry!"

And we did just that. Mercer snatched up a huge glass basin used inhis chemistry experiments, and we raced down to the shore. As well aswe could we explained our wishes, and she smiled her quick smile ofunderstanding. Crouching beneath the water, she turned to hercompanions, and I could see her throat move as she spoke to them. Theyseemed to protest, dubious and frightened, but in the end she seemedto reassure them, and we picked her up, swathed in her hair as in asilken gown, and carried her, her head immersed in the basin of water, that she might breathe in comfort, to the pool. 

It all took but a few minutes, but it seemed hours. Mercer's handswere shaking as he handed me the antenna for the girl and another formyself, and his teeth were chattering as he spoke. 

"Hurry, Taylor!" he said. "I've set the switch so that she can do thesending, while we receive. Quickly, man!"

 * * * * *

I leaped into the pool and adjusted the antenna on her head, makingsure that the four electrodes of the crossed curved members pressedagainst the front and back and both sides of her head. Then, hastily, I climbed out of the pool, seated myself on its edge, and put on myown antenna. 

Perhaps I should say at this time that Mercer's device for conveyingthought could do no more than convey what was in the mind of theperson sending. Mercer and I could convey actual words and sentences, because we understood each other's language, and by thinking in words, we conveyed our thoughts in words. One received the impression, almost, of having heard actual speech. 

We could not communicate with the girl in this fashion, however, forwe did not understand her speech. She had to convey her thoughts tous by means of mental pictures which told her story. And this is thestory of her pictures unfolded. 

First, in sketchy, half-formed pictures, I saw her return to thevillage, of her people; her welcome there, with curious crowds aroundher, questioning her. Their incredulous expressions as she told themof her experience were ludicrous. Her meeting with her father andmother brought a little catch to my throat, and I looked across thepool at Mercer. I knew that he, too, was glad that we bad put her backinto the sea when she wished to go. 

 * * * * *

These pictures faded hastily, and for a moment there was only thecircular swirling as of gray mist; that was the symbol she adopted todenote the passing of time. Then, slowly, the picture cleared. 

It was the same village I had seen before, with its ragged, warped, narrow streets, and its row of dome-shaped houses, for all the worldlike Eskimo igloos, but made of coral and various forms of vegetation. At the outskirts of the village I could see the gently moving, shadowyforms of weird submarine growths, and the quick darting shapes ofinnumerable fishes. 

Some few people were moving along the streets, walking with oddlyspringy steps. Others, a larger number, darted here and there abovethe roofs, some hovering in the water as gulls hover in the air, lazily, but the majority apparently on business or work to be executedwith dispatch. 

Suddenly, into the midst of this peaceful scene, three figures camedarting. They were not like the people of the village, for they weresmaller, and instead of being gracefully slim they were short andpowerful in build. They were not white like the people of the girl'svillage, but swarthy, and they were dressed in a sort of tight-fittingshirt of gleaming leather--shark-skin, I learned later. They carried, tucked through a sort of belt made of twisted vegetation, two long, slim knives of pointed stone or bone. 

 * * * * *

But it was not until they seemed to come close to me that I saw thegreat point of difference. Their faces were scarcely human. The nosehad become rudimentary, leaving a large, blank expanse in the middleof their faces that gave them a peculiarly hideous expression. Theireyes were almost perfectly round, and very fierce, and their mouthshuge and fishlike. Beneath their sharp, jutting jaws, between theangle of the jaws and a spot beneath the ears, were huge, longitudinalslits, that intermittently showed blood-red, like fresh gashes cut inthe sides of their throats. I could see even the hard, bony cover thatprotected these slits, and I realized that these were gills! Here wererepresentatives of a people that had gone back to the sea ages beforethe people of the girl's village. 

Their coming caused a sort of panic in the village, and the threenoseless creatures strode down the principal street grinning hugely, glancing from right to left, and showing their sharp pointed teeth. They looked more like sharks than like human beings. 

A committee of five gray old men met the visitors, and conducted theminto one of the larger houses. Insolently, the leader of the threeshark-faced creatures made demands, and the scene changed swiftly tomake clear the nature of those demands. 

 * * * * *

The village was to give a number of its finest young men and women tothe shark-faced people; about fifty of each sex, I gathered, to beservants, slaves, to the noseless ones. 

The scene shifted quickly to the interior of the house. The old menwere shaking their heads, protesting, explaining. There was fear ontheir faces, but there was determination, too. 

One of the three envoys snarled and came closer to the five old men, lifting a knife threateningly. I thought for an instant that he wasabout to strike down one of the villagers; then the picture dissolvedinto another, and I saw that he was but threatening them with what hecould cause to happen. 

The fate of the village and the villagers, were the demands of thethree refused, was a terrible one. Hordes of the noseless creaturescame swarming. They tore the houses apart, and with their long, slimwhite weapons they killed the old men and women, and the children. Thevillagers fought desperately, but they were outnumbered. Theshark-skin kirtles of the invaders turned their knives like armor, andthe sea grew red with swirling blood that spread like scarlet smokethrough the water. Then, this too faded, and I saw the old mencowering, pleading with the three terrible envoys. 

The leader of the three shark-faced creatures spoke again. He wouldgive them time--a short revolving swirl of gray that indicated only abrief time, apparently--and return for an answer. Grinning evilly, thethree turned away, left the dome-shaped house, and darted away overthe roofs of the village into the dim darkness of the distant waters. 

 * * * * *

I saw the girl, then, talking to the elders. They smiled sadly, andshook their heads hopelessly. She argued with them earnestly, paintinga picture for them: Mercer and myself, as she viewed us, tall and verystrong and with great wisdom in our faces. We too walked along thestreets of the village. The hordes of shark-faced ones came, like aswarm of monstrous sharks, and--the picture was very vague andnebulous, now--we put them to rout. 

She wished us to help her, she had convinced the elders that we could. She, her mother and father, started out from the village. Three timesthey had fought with sharks, and each time they had killed them. Theyhad found the shore, the very spot where we had put her back into thesea. Then there was a momentary flash of the picture she had calledup, of Mercer and I putting the shark-faced hordes to rout, and then, startlingly, I was conscious of that high, pleading sound--the soundthat I had heard once before, when she had begged us to return her toher people. 

The sound that I knew was her word for "_Please!_"

There was a little click. Mercer had turned the switch. He wouldtransmit now; she and I would listen. 

 * * * * *

In the center of the village--how vaguely and clumsily he picturedit!--rested the _Santa Maria_. From a trap in the bottom two bulging, gleaming figures emerged. Rushing up, a glimpse through theface-plates revealed Mercer and myself. The shark-faced hordesdescended, and Mercer waved something, something like a huge bottle, towards them. None of the villagers were in sight. 

The noseless ones swooped down on us fearlessly, knives drawn, pointedteeth revealed in fiendish grins. But they did not reach us. Bydozens, by scores, they went limp and floated slowly to the floor ofthe ocean. Their bodies covered the streets, they sprawled across theroofs of the houses. And in a few seconds there was not one alive ofall the hundreds who had come!

I looked down at the girl. She was smiling up at me through the clearwater, and once again I felt the strange, strong tug at myheart-strings. Her great dark eyes glowed with a perfect confidence, asupreme faith. 

We had made her a promise. 

I wondered if it would be possible to keep it. 

 * * * * *

In the day following, the _Santa Maria_ was launched. Two days later, trial trips and final adjustments completed, we submerged for thegreat adventure. 

It sounds very simple when recorded thus in a few brief lines. It wasnot, however, such a simple matter. Those three days were full ofhectic activity. Mercer and I did not sleep more than four hours anyof those three nights. 

We were too busy to talk. Mercer worked frantically in his laboratory, slaving feverishly beside the big hood. I overlooked the tests of thesubmarine and the loading of the necessary supplies. 

The girl we had taken back to her parents, giving her to understandthat she was to wait. They went away, but every few hours returned, asthough to urge us to greater haste. And at last we were ready, and thegirl and her two companions seated themselves on the tiny deck of the_Santa Maria_, just forward of the conning tower, holding themselvesin place by the chains. We had already instructed the girl in herduties: we would move slowly, and she should guide us, by pointingeither to the right or the left. 

 * * * * *

I will confess I gave a last long, lingering look at the shore beforethe hatch of the conning tower was clamped down. I was not exactlyafraid, but I wondered if I would ever step foot on solid land again. 

Standing in the conning tower beside Mercer, I watched the sea rise atan angle to meet us, and I dodged instinctively as the first greenwave pelted against the thick porthole through which I was looking. Aninstant later the water closed over the top of the conning tower, andat a gentle angle we nosed towards the bottom of the sea. 

An account of the trip itself, perhaps, does not belong in thisrecord. It was not a pleasant adventure in itself, for the _SantaMaria_, like every undersea craft, I suppose, was close, smelly, andcramped. We proceeded very slowly, for only by so doing could ourguide keep her bearings, and how she found the way was a mystery toall of us. We could see but very little, despite the clearness of thewater. 

It was by no means a sight-seeing trip. For various reasons, Mercerhad cut our crew to the minimum. We had two navigating officers, experienced submarine men both, and five sailors, also experienced inundersea work. With such a short crew, Mercer and I were both keptbusy. 

 * * * * *

Bonnett, the captain, was a tall, dark chap, stooped from years in thelow, cramped quarters of submarines. Duke, our second-officer, was ayoungster hardly out of his 'teens, and as clever as they come. Andalthough both of them, and the crew as well, must have been agog withquestions, neither by word nor look did they express their feelings. Mercer had paid for obedience without curiosity, and he got it. 

We spent the first night on the bottom, for the simple reason that hadwe come to the surface, we might have come down into territoryunfamiliar to our guide. As soon as the first faint light began tofilter down, however, we proceeded, and Mercer and I crowded togetherinto the conning tower. 

"We're close, " said Mercer. "See how excited they are, all three ofthem. "

The three strange creatures were holding onto the chains and staringover the bulging side of the ship. Every few seconds the girl turnedand looked back at us, smiling, her eyes shining with excitement. Suddenly she pointed straight down, and held out her arm inunmistakable gesture. We were to stop. 

 * * * * *

Mercer conveyed the order instantly to Bonnett at the controls, andall three of our guides dived gracefully off the ship and disappearedinto the depths below. 

"Let her settle to the bottom, Bonnett, " ordered Mercer. "Slowly . .. Slowly. .. . "

Bonnett handled the ship neatly, keeping her nicely trimmed. We cameto rest on the bottom in four or five seconds, and as Mercer and Istared out eagerly through the round glass ports of the conningtower, we could see, very dimly, a cluster of dark, roundedprojections cropping out from the bed of the ocean. We were only a fewyards from the edge of the girl's village. 

The scene was exactly as we had pictured it, save that it was notnearly as clear and well lighted. I realized that our eyes were notaccustomed to the gloom, as were those of the girl and her people, butI could distinguish the vague outlines of the houses, and the slowlyswaying shapes of monstrous growths. 

"Well, Taylor, " said Mercer, his voice shaking with excitement, "herewe are! And here"--peering out through the glass-covered portagain--"are her people!"

 * * * * *

The whole village was swarming around us. White bodies hovered aroundus as moths around a light. Faces pressed against the ports and staredin at us with great, amazed eyes. 

Then, suddenly the crowd of curious creatures parted, and the girlcame darting up with the five ancients she had showed us before. Theywere evidently the council responsible for the government of thevillage, or something of the sort, for the other villagers bowed theirheads respectfully as they passed. 

The girl came close to the port through which I was looking, andgestured earnestly. Her face was tense and anxious, and from time totime she glanced over her shoulder, as though she feared the coming ofan enemy. 

"Our time's short, I take it, if we are to be of service, " saidMercer. "Come on, Taylor; into the diving suits!"

I signaled the girl that we understood, and would hurry. Then Ifollowed Mercer into our tiny stateroom. 

"Remember what I've told you, " he said, as we slipped into the heavywoolen undergarments we were to wear inside the suits. "You understandhow to handle your air, I believe, and you'll have no difficultygetting around in the suit if you'll just remember to go slowly. Yourjob is to get the whole village to get away when the enemy is sighted. Get them to come this way from the village, towards the ship, understand. The current comes from this direction; the way thevegetation bends shows that. And keep the girl's people away until Isignal you to let them return. And remember to take your electriclantern. Don't burn it more than is necessary; the batteries are notlarge and the bulb draws a lot of current. Ready?"

 * * * * *

I was, but I was shaking a little as the men helped me into the mightyarmor that was to keep the pressure of several atmospheres fromcrushing my body. The helmet was the last piece to be donned; when itwas screwed in place I stood there like a mummy, almost completelyrigid. 

Quickly we were put into the air lock, together with a large iron boxcontaining a number of things Mercer needed. Darkness and water rushedin on us. The water closed over my head. I became aware of the soft, continuous popping sounds of the air-bubbles escaping from the reliefvalve of the head-piece. 

For a moment I was dizzy and more than a little nauseated. I couldfeel the cold sweat pricking my forehead. Then there was a sudden glowof light from before me, and I started walking towards it. I found Icould walk now; not easily, but, after I caught the trick of it, without much difficulty. I could move my arms, too, and theinterlocking hooks that served me for fingers. When my real fingersclosed upon a little cross-bar at the end of the armored arms, andpulled the bars towards me, the steel claws outside came together, like a thumb and two fingers. 

 * * * * *

In a moment we stood upon the bottom of the ocean. I turned my headinside the helmet, and there, beside me, was the sleek, smooth sideof the _Santa Maria_. On my other side was Mercer, a huge, dim figurein his diving armor. He made an awkward gesture towards his head, andI suddenly remembered something. 

Before me, where I could operate it with a thrusting movement of mychin, was a toggle switch. I snapped it over, and heard Mercer'svoice: "--n't forget everything I tell him. "

"I know it, " I said mentally to him. "I was rather rattled. O. K. Now, however. Anything I can do?"

"Yes. Help me with this box, and then get the girl to put on theantenna you'll find there. Don't forget the knife and the light. "

"Right!" I bent over the box with him, and we both came near falling. We opened the lid, however, and I hooked the knife and the light intotheir proper places outside my armor. Then, with the antenna for thegirl, so that we could establish connections with her, and throughher, with the villagers, I moved off. 

This antenna was entirely different from the one used in previousexperiments. The four cross-members that clasped the head were finer, and at their junction was a flat black circular box, from which rose ablack rod some six inches in height, and topped by a black sphere halfthe size of my fist. 

 * * * * *

These perfected thought-telegraphs (I shall continue to use my owndesignation for them, as clearer and more understandable thanMercer's) did not need connecting wires; they conveyed their impulsesby Hertzian waves to a master receiver on the _Santa Maria_, whichamplified them and re-broadcast them so that each of us could bothsend and receive at any time. 

As I turned, I found the girl beside me, waiting anxiously. Behind herwere the five ancients. I slipped the antenna over her head, andinstantly she began telling me that danger was imminent. 

To facilitate matters, I shall describe her messages as though shespoke; indeed, her pictures were as clear, almost, as speech in mynative tongue. And at times she did use certain sound-words; it was inthis way that I learned, by inference, that her name was _Imee_, thather people were called _Teemorn_ (this may have been the name of thecommunity, or perhaps it was interchangeable--I am not sure) and thatthe shark-faced people were the _Rorn_. 

"The Rorn come!" she said quickly. "Two days past, the three cameagain, and our old men refused to give up the slaves. Today they willreturn, these Rorn, and my people, the Teemorn will all be made dead!"

 * * * * *

Then I told her what Mercer had said: that she and every one of herpeople must flee swiftly and hide, beyond the boat, a distance beyondthe village. Mercer and I would wait here, and when the Rorn came, itwas they who would be made dead, as we had promised. Although how, Iadmitted to myself, being careful to hide the thought that she mightnot sense it, I didn't know. We had been too busy since the girl'sarrival to go into details. 

She turned and spoke quickly to the old men. They looked at medoubtfully, and she urged them vehemently. They turned back towardsthe village, and in a moment the Teemorn were stalking by obediently, losing their slim white forms in the gloom behind the dim bulk of the_Santa Maria_, resting so quietly on the sand. 

They were hardly out of sight when suddenly Mercer spoke through theantenna fitted inside my helmet. 

"They're coming!" he cried. "Look above and to your right! The Rorn, as Imee calls them, have arrived!"

I looked up and beheld a hundred--no, a thousand!--shadowy formsdarting down on the village, upon us. They, too, were just as the girlhad pictured them: short, swart beings with but the suggestion of anose, and with pulsing gill-covers under the angles of their jaws. Each one gripped a long, slim white knife in either hand, and theirtight-fitting shark-skin armor gleamed darkly as they swooped downupon us. 

 * * * * *

Eagerly I watched my friend. In the clasping talons of his left handhe held a long, slim flask that glinted even in that dim, confusingtwilight. Two others, mates to the first, dangled at his waist. Lifting it high above his head, he swung his metal-clad right arm, andshattered the flask he held in his taloned left hand. 

For an instant nothing happened, save that flittering bits of brokenglass shimmered their way to the sand. Then the horde of noseless onesseemed to dissolve, as hundreds of limp and sprawling bodies sank tothe sand. Perhaps a half of that great multitude seemed struck dead. 

"Hydrocyanic acid, Taylor!" cried Mercer exultantly. "Even diluted bythe sea water, it kills almost instantly. Go back and make sure thatnone of the girl's people come back before the current has washed thisaway, or they'll go in the same fashion. Warn her to keep them back!"

 * * * * *

I hurried toward the _Santa Maria_, thinking urgent warnings forImee's benefit. "Stay back! Stay back, Imee! The Rorn are falling tothe sand, we have made many of them dead, but the danger for you andyour people is still here. Stay back!"

"Truly, do the Rorn become dead? I would like to see that with my owneyes. Be careful that they do not make you dead also, and your friend, for they have large brains, these Rorn. "

"Do not come to see with your own eyes, or you will be as the Rorn!" Ihurried around the submarine, to keep her back by force, if that werenecessary. "You must--"

"Help, Taylor!" cut in a voice--Mercer's. "These devils have got me!"

"Right with you!" I turned and hurried back as swiftly as I could, stumbling over the bodies of dead Rorn that had settled everywhere onthe clean yellow sand. 

I found Mercer in the grip of six of the shark-faced creatures. Theywere trying desperately to stab him, but their knives bent and brokeagainst the metal of his armor. So busy were they with him that theydid not notice me coming up, but finding their weapons useless, theysuddenly snatched him up, one at either arm and either leg, and twograsping him by the head-piece, and darted away with him, carrying hisbulging metal body between them like a battering ram, while he kickedand struggled impotently. 

"They are taking him to the Place of Darkness!" cried Imee suddenly, having read my impressions of the scene. "Oh, go quickly, quickly, toward the direction of your best hand--to your right! I shallfollow!"

"No! No! Stay back!" I warned her frantically. All but these six Rornhad fallen victims of Mercer's hellish poison, and while they seemedto be suffering no ill effects, I thought it more than likely thatsome sly current might bring the deadly poison to the girl, did shecome this way, and kill her as surely as it had killed these hundredsof Rorn. 

 * * * * *

To the right, she had said. Towards the Place of Darkness. I hurriedout of the village in the direction she indicated, towards the distantgleam of Mercer's armor, rapidly being lost in the gloom. 

"I'm coming, Mercer!" I called to him. "Delay them as much as you can. You're going faster than I can. "

"I can't help myself much, " replied Mercer. "Doing what I can. Strong--they're devilish strong, Taylor. And, at close range, I cansee you were right. They have true gill-covers; their noses arerudimentary and--"

"The devil take your scientific observations! Drag! Slow them down. I'm losing sight of you. For heaven's sake, drag!"

"I'm doing what I can. Damn you, if I could only get a hand free--" Irealized that this last was directed at his captors, and plunged on. 

 * * * * *

Huge, monstrous growths swirled around me like living things. My feetcrunched on shelled things, and sank into soft and slimy creepingthings on the bottom. I cursed the water that held me back so gentlyyet so firmly; I cursed the armor that made it so hard for me to movemy legs. But I kept on, and at last I began to gain on them; I couldsee them quite distinctly, bending over Mercer, working on him. .. . 

"Do your best, Taylor, " urged Mercer desperately. "We're on the edgeof a sort of cliff; a fault in the structure of the ocean bed. They'retying me with strong cords of leather. Tying a huge stone to my body. I think they--" I had a momentary flash of the scene as Mercer saw itat that instant: the horrid noseless face close to his, the swartbodies moving with amazing agility. And at his very feet, a yawningprecipice, holding nothing but darkness, leading down and down intonothingness. 

"Run quickly!" It was Imee. She, too, had seen what I had seen. "Thatis the Place of Darkness, where we take those whom the Five deemworthy of the Last Punishment. They will tie the stone to him, andbear him out above the Blackness, and then they will let him go!Quickly! Quickly!"

I was almost upon them now, and one of the six turned and saw me. Three of them darted towards me, while the others held Mercer flatupon the edge of the precipice. If they had only realized that byrolling his armored body a foot or two, he would sink . .. Without thestone. .. . But they did not. Their brains had little reasoning power, apparently. The attaching of a stone was necessary, in theirexperience; it was necessary now. 

 * * * * *

With my left hand I unhooked my light; I already gripped my knife inmy right hand. Swinging the light sharply against my leg, I struck thetoggle-switch, and a beam of intense brilliancy shot through thegloom. It aided me, as I had thought it would; it blinded theselarge-eyed denizens of the deep. 

Swiftly I struck out with the knife. It hacked harmlessly into theshark-skin garment of one of the men, and I stabbed out again. Two ofthe men leaped for my right arm, but the knife found, this time, thethroat of the third. My beam of light showed palely red, for a moment, and the body of the Rorn toppled slowly to the bed of the ocean. 

The two shark-faced creatures were hammering at me with their fists, dragging at my arms and legs, but I plunged on desperately towardsMercer. Myriads of fish, all shapes and colors and sizes, attracted bythe light, swarmed around us. 

"Good boy!" Mercer commended. "See if you can break this last flask ofacid, here at my waist. See--"

 * * * * *

With a last desperate plunge, fairly dragging the two Rorn who tuggedat me, I fell forward. With the clenched steel talons of my righthand, I struck at the silvery flask I could see dangling from Mercer'swaist. I hit it, but only a glancing blow; the flask did not shatter. 

"Again!" commanded Mercer. "It's heavy annealed glass--hydrocyanicacid--terrible stuff--even the fumes--"

I paid but slight heed. The two Rorn dragged me back, but I managed tocrawl forward on my knees, and with all my strength, I struck at theflask again. 

This time it shattered, and I lay where I fell, sobbing with weakness, looking out through the side window of my head-piece. 

The five Rorn seemed to suddenly lose their strength. They struggledlimply for a moment, and then floated down to the waiting sandbeneath us. 

"Finish, " remarked Mercer coolly. "And just in time. Let's see if wecan find our way back to the _Santa Maria_. "

 * * * * *

We were weary, and we plodded along slowly, twin trails of air-bubbleslike plumes waving behind us, rushing upwards to the surface. I feltstrangely alone at the moment, isolated, cut off from all mankind, onthe bottom of the Atlantic. 

"Coming to meet you, all of us, " Imee signaled us. "Be careful whereyou step, so that you do not walk in a circle and find again the Placeof Darkness. It is very large. "

"Probably some uncharted deep, " threw in Mercer. "Only the larger oneshave been located. "

For my part, I was too weary to think. I just staggered on. 

A crowd of slim, darting white shapes surrounded us. They swam beforeus, showing the way. The five patriarchs walked majestically beforeus; and between us, smiling at us through the thick lenses of ourheadpieces, walked Imee. Oh, it was a triumphal procession, and had Ibeen less weary, I presume I would have felt quite the hero. 

 * * * * *

Imee pictured for us, as we went along, the happiness, thegratefulness of her people. Already, she informed us, great numbers ofyoung men were clearing away the bodies of the dead Rorn. She was sohappy she could hardly restrain herself. 

A dim skeleton shape bulked up at my left. I turned to look at it, andImee, watching me through the lights of my head-piece, nodded andsmiled. 

Yes, this was the very hulk by which she had been swimming when theshark had attacked her, the shark which had been the cause of theaccident. She darted on to show me the very rib upon which her headhad struck, stunning her so that she had drifted, unconscious andstorm-tossed, to the shore of Mercer's estate. 

I studied the wreck. It was battered and tilted on its beam ends, butI could still make out the high poop that marked it as a very oldship. 

"A Spanish galleon, Mercer, " I conjectured. 

"I believe so. " And then, in pictured form, for Imee's benefit, "Ithas been here while much time passed?"

"Yes. " Imee came darting back to us, smiling. "Since before theTeemorn, my people were here. A Rorn we made prisoner once told us hispeople discovered it first. They went into this strange skeleton, andinside were many blocks of very bright stone. " She pictured quiteclearly bars of dully-glinting bullion. Evidently the captive had toldhis story well. 

 * * * * *

"These stones, which were so bright, the Rorn took to their city, which is three swims distant. " How far that might be, I could not evenguess. A swim, it seemed, was the distance a Teemorn could travelbefore the need for rest became imperative. "There were many Rorn, andthey each took one stone. And of them, they made a house for theirleader. " The leader, as she pictured him, being the most hideoustravesty of a thing in semi-human form that the mind could imagine:incredibly old and wrinkled and ugly and gray, his noseless faceseamed with cunning, his eyes red rimmed and terrible, his teethgleaming, white and sharp, like fangs. 

"A whole house, except the roof, " she went on. "It is there now, andit is gazed at with much admiration by all the Rorn. All this ourprisoner told us before we took him, with a rock made fast to him, outover the Place of Darkness. He, too, was very proud of their leader'shouse. "

"Treasure!" I commented to Mercer. "If we could find the city of theRorn, we might make the trip pay for itself!"

I could sense his wave of amusement. 

"I think, " he replied, "I'd rather stand it myself. These Rorn don'tappeal to me. "

It was over half an hour before we were at last free of our divingsuits. 

The first thing Captain Bonnett said:

"We've got to get to the surface, and that quickly. Our air supply isrunning damnably low. By the time we blow out the tanks we'll be justabout out. And foul air will keep us here until we rot. I'm sorry, sir, but that's the way matters stand. "

 * * * * *

Mercer, white-faced and ill, stared at him dazedly. 

"Air?" he repeated groggily--I knew just how he felt--"We should havelots of air. The specifications--"

"But we're dealing with facts, not specifications, sir, " said CaptainBonnett. "Another two hours here and we won't leave ever. "

"Then it can't be helped, Captain, " muttered Mercer. "We'll go up. Andback. For more compressed air. We must remember to plot our courseexactly. You kept the record on the way out as I instructed you?"

"Yes, sir, " said Captain Bonnett. 

"Just a minute, then, " said Mercer. 

Weakly he made his way forward to the little cubbyhole in which washoused the central station of his thought-telegraph. I didn't eveninspect the gleaming maze of apparatus. I merely watched him dully ashe plugged in an antenna similar to the one we had left with Imee, andadjusted the things on his head. 

 * * * * *

His eyes brightened instantly. "She's still wearing her antenna, " hesaid swiftly over his shoulder. "I'll tell her that something'shappened; we must leave, but that we will return. "

He sat there, frowning intently for a moment, and then dragged theantenna wearily from his head. He touched a switch somewhere, andseveral softly glowing bulbs turned slowly red and then dark. 

"You and I, " he groaned, "had better go to bed. We overdid it. Sheunderstands, I think. Terribly sorry, terribly disappointed. Somesort of celebration planned, I gather. Captain Bonnett!"

"Yes, sir?"

"You may proceed now as you think best, " said Mercer. "We're retiring. Be sure and chart the course back, so we may locate this spot again. "

"Yes, sir!" said Captain Bonnett. 

 * * * * *

When I awoke we were at anchor, our deck barely awash, before thedeserted beach of Mercer's estate. Still feeling none too well, Mercerand I made our way to the narrow deck. 

Captain Bonnett was waiting for us, spruce in his blue uniform, hisshoulders bowed as always. 

"Good morning, gentlemen, " he offered, smiling crisply. "The open airseems good, doesn't it?"

It did. There was a fresh breeze blowing in from the Atlantic, and Ifilled my lungs gratefully. I had not realized until that instant justhow foul the air below had been. 

"Very fine, Captain, " said Mercer, nodding. "You have signaled the menon shore to send out a boat to take us off?"

"Yes, sir; I believe they're launching her now. "

"And the chart of our course--did the return trip check with theother?"

"Perfectly, sir. " Captain Bonnett reached in an inner pocket of hisdouble-breasted coat, extracted two folded pages, and extended them, with a little bow, to Mercer. 

Just as Mercer's eager fingers touched the precious papers, however, the wind whisked them from Bonnett's grasp and whirled them into thewater. 

Bonnett gasped and gazed after them for a split second; then, barelypausing to tear off his coat, he plunged over the side. 

 * * * * *

He tried desperately, but before he could reach either one of thetossing white specks, they were washed beneath the surface anddisappeared. Ten minutes later, his uniform bedraggled and shapeless, he pulled himself on deck. 

"I'm sorry, sir, " he gasped, out of breath. "Sorrier than I can say. Itried--"

Mercer, white-faced and struggling with his emotions, looked down andturned away. 

"You don't remember the bearings, I suppose?" he ventured tonelessly. 

"I'm sorry--no. "

"Thank you, Captain, for trying so hard to recover the papers, " saidMercer. "You'd better change at once; the wind is sharp. "

 * * * * *

The captain bowed and disappeared down the conning tower. Then Mercerturned to me, and a smile struggled for life. 

"Well, Taylor, we helped her out, anyway, " he said slowly. "I'm sorrythat--that Imee will misunderstand when we don't come back. "

"But, Mercer, " I said swiftly, "perhaps we'll be able to find our wayback to her. You thought before, you know, that--"

"But I can see now what an utterly wild-goose chase it would havebeen. " Mercer shook his head slowly. "No, old friend, it would beimpossible. And--Imee will not come again to guide us; she will thinkwe have deserted her. And"--he smiled slowly up into my eyes--"perhapsit is as well. After all, the photographs and the data I wanted woulddo the world no practical good. We did Imee and her people a goodturn; let's content ourselves with that. I, for one, am satisfied. "

"And I, old timer, " I said, placing my hand affectionately upon hisshoulder. "Here's the boat. Shall we go ashore?"

We did go ashore, silently. And as we got out of the boat, and setfoot again upon the sand, we both turned and looked out across thesmiling Atlantic, dancing brightly in the sun. 

The mighty, mysterious Atlantic--home of Imee and her people!

Murder Madness

BEGINNING A FOUR-PART NOVEL

_By Murray Leinster_

[Illustration: _The heads leveled the revolver in spite of him, whilehe flung his head from side to side in a frantic attempt to disturbtheir aim. _]

[Sidenote: Murder Madness! Seven Secret Service men had completelydisappeared. Another had been found a screaming, homicidal maniac, whose fingers writhed like snakes. So Bell, of the secret "Trade, "plunges into South America after The Master--the mighty, unknownoctopus of power whose diabolical poison threatens a continent!]

CHAPTER I

The engines of the _Almirante Gomez_ were going dead slow. Away upbeside her monster funnels her siren blew dismally, _Whoo-oo-oo-oo!_and was silent for the regulation period, and blew desolately againinto the clinging gray mist that ringed her all about. 

Her decks were wet and glistening. Droplets of water stood upon thedeck-stanchions, and dripped from the outer edge of the roof above thepromenade deck. A thin, swirling fog lay soggily upon the water andthe big steamer went dead slow upon her course, sending dismal anddepressing blasts from her horn from time to time. It was barelypossible to see from one side of the ship to the other. It was surelyimpossible to see the bow from a point half astern. 

Charley Bell went forward along the promenade deck. He passed SenorOrtiz, ex-Minister of the Interior of the Argentine Republic. Ortizbowed to him punctiliously, but Bell had a sudden impression that theArgentine's face was gray and ghastly. He checked himself and lookedback. The little man was climbing the companion-ladder toward thewireless room. 

 * * * * *

Bell slipped on toward the bow. He did not want to give an impressionof furtiveness, but the _Almirante Gomez_ was twelve days out of NewYork and Bell was still entirely ignorant of why he was on board. Hehad been called into the office of his chief in the State Departmentand told curtly that his request for leave of absence had beengranted. And Bell had not asked for a leave of absence. But at justthat moment he saw a rubber band on the desk of his immediatesuperior, a fairly thick rubber band which had been tied into acertain intricate knot. And Bell had kept quiet. He went to hisapartment, found his bags packed and tickets to Rio via the _AlmiranteGomez_ in an envelope on his dressing-table, and went out and caught atrain to the ship. 

[Illustration]

And that was all he knew. The siren up above blared dolefully into thefog. It was damp, and soggy, and depressing. The other passengers wereunder cover, and the decks seemed to be deserted. From the saloon camethe sound of music. Bell pulled the collar of his light topcoat abouthis throat and strolled on toward the bow. 

He faced a row of steamer chairs. There was a figure curled up in oneof them. Paula Canalejas, muffled up against the dampness and staringsomberly out into the mist. Bell had met her in Washington and likedher a great deal, but he swore softly at sight of her in his way. 

The afternoon before, he had seen a stoker on the _Almirante Gomez_pick up a bit of rope and absently tie knots in it while he exchangedRabelasian humor with his fellows. He had not looked at Bell at all, but the knots he tied were the same that Bell had last seen tied in arubber band on a desk in the State Department in Washington. And Bellknew a recognition signal when he saw one. The stoker would be offwatch, just now, and by all the rules of reason he ought to be outthere on the forecastle, waiting for Bell to turn up and receiveinstructions. 

 * * * * *

But Bell paused, lit a cigarette carefully, and strolled forward. 

"Mr. Bell. "

He stopped and beamed fatuously at her. It would have been logical forhim to fall in love with her, and it is always desirable to seemlogical. He had striven painstakingly to give the impression that hehad fallen in love with her--and then had striven even morepainstakingly to keep from doing it. 

"Hullo, " he said in bland surprise. "What are you doing out on deck?"

Brown eyes regarded him speculatively. 

"Thinking, " she said succinctly. "About you, Mr. Bell. "

Bell beamed. 

"Thinking, " he confided, "is usually a bad habit, especially in agirl. But if you must think, I approve of your choice of subjects. What were you thinking about me?"

The brown eyes regarded him still more speculatively. 

"I was wondering--" said Paula, glancing to either side, "I waswondering if you happen to be--er--a member of the United StatesSecret Service. "

Bell laughed with entire naturalness. 

"Good Lord, no!" he said amusedly. "I have a desk in the StateDepartment building, and I read consular reports all day long andwrite letters bedeviling the consuls for not including unavailablestatistics in their communications. That's my work. I'm on leave now. "

 * * * * *

She looked skeptical and, it may be, disappointed. 

"You look as if you didn't believe me, " said Bell, smiling. "I giveyou my word of honor I'm not a member of the United States SecretService. Will that do to relieve your suspicions?"

"I believe you, " she said slowly, "but it does not relieve my mind. Ishall think about other people. I have something important to tell amember of the United States Secret Service. "

Bell shrugged. 

"I'm sorry, " he said amiably, "that I can't oblige you by tipping oneof them off. That's what you wanted me to do, isn't it?"

She nodded, and the gesture was very much like a dismissal. Bellfrowned, hesitated, and went on. He was anxious to meet the stoker, but this. .. . 

The siren droned dismally over his head. Fog lay deep about the ship. The washing of the waves and dripping of water on the decks wasdepressing. It seemed to be getting thicker. Four stanchions ahead, the mist was noticeable. He found that he could count five, six, seven. .. . The eighth was indefinite. But a bar materialized in the fogbefore him, and the grayness drew away before him and closed inbehind. When he was at the forward end of the promenade, looking downupon the forecastle deck, he was isolated. He heard footsteps somedistance overhead. The watch officer up on the bridge. Bell glanced upand saw him as an indistinct figure. He waited until the officer pacedover to the opposite side of the bridge. The air throbbed and shookwith the roaring of the siren. 

Bell slipped over the edge of the rail and swung swiftly down thelittle ladder of iron bars set into the ship's structure. In secondshe had landed, and was down upon that terra incognita of allpassengers, the deck reserved for the use of the crew. 

 * * * * *

A mast loomed overhead, with its heavy, clumsy derrick-booms. A winchwas by his side. Oddments of deck machinery, inexplicable to alandsman, formed themselves vaguely in the mist. The fog was thicker, naturally, since the deck was closer to the water's edge. 

"Hey!" growled a voice close beside him. "Passengers ain't alloweddown here. "

An unshaven, soot-smeared figure loomed up. Bell could not see the mansave as a blur in the mist, but he said cheerfully:

"I know it, but I wanted to look. Seafaring's a trade I'd like to knowsomething about. "

The figure grunted. Bell had just given his word of honor that hewasn't a member of the Secret Service. He wasn't. But he was in theTrade--which has no official existence anywhere. And the use of theword in his first remark was a recognition signal. 

"What is your trade, anyways?" growled the figure skeptically. 

"I sharpen serpents' teeth from time to time, " offered Bell amiably. He recognized the man, suddenly. "Hullo, Jamison, you look like thedevil. "

 * * * * *

Jamison drew nearer. He grunted softly. 

"I know it. Listen closely, Bell. Your job is getting some informationfrom Canalejas, Minister of War in Rio. He sent word up to Washingtonthat he'd something important to say. It isn't treachery to Brazil, because he's a decent man. Seven Secret Service men have disappearedin South America within three months. They've found the eighth, andhe's crazy. Something has driven him mad, and they say it's a devilishpoison. He's a homicidal maniac, returning to the United States in astraight-jacket. Canalejas knows what's happened to the Service men. He said so, and he's going to tell us. His daughter brought the newsto Washington, and then instead of going on to Europe as she wassupposed to do, she started back to Rio. You're to get this formationand pass it on to me, then try to keep your skin whole and actinnocent. You were picked out because, as a State Department man, hellcould be raised if you vanished. Understand?"

Bell nodded. 

"Something horrible is going on. Secret Service can't do anything. Theman in Asunción isn't dead--he's been seen--but he's cut loose. AndService men don't often do that. He don't report. That means theService code may have been turned over, and hell to pay generally. It's up to the Trade. "

"I've got it, " said Bell. "Here are two items for you. Miss Canalejasjust said she suspected I was Secret Service. I convinced her Iwasn't. She says she has important information for a Service man. "

 * * * * *

The brawny figure of the stoker growled. 

"Damn women! She was told somebody'd be sent to see her father. Shewas shown a recognition-knot with the outsider's variation. Given one, for father. That'll identify you to him. But she shouldn't havetalked. Now, be careful. As nearly as we know, that chap in thestraight-jacket was given some poison that drove him insane. There arehellish drugs down there. Maybe the same thing happened to others. Look out for yourself, and give me the information Canalejas gives youas quickly as God will let you. If anything happens to you, we wantthe stuff to get back. Understand?"

"Of course, " said Bell. He carefully did not shiver as he realizedwhat Jamison meant by anything happening to him. "The other item isthat Ortiz, ex-Minister of the Interior of the Argentine, is scared todeath about something. Sending radios right and left. "

"Umph, " growled Jamison. "One of our men vanished in Buenos Aires. Watch him. You're friendly?"

"Yes. "

"Get friendlier. See what he's got. Now shoo. "

Bell swung up the ladder again. Mist opened before him and closedagain behind. He climbed over the rail to the promenade deck, and felta little flare of irritation. There was a figure watching him. 

He slipped to the deck and grinned sheepishly at Paula Canalejas. Shestood with her hands in the pockets of her little sport coat, regarding him very gravely. 

 * * * * *

"I suppose, " said Charley Bell sheepishly, "that I look like a fool. But I've always wanted to climb up and down that ladder. I supposeit's a survival from the age of childhood. At the age of seven Ilonged to be a fireman. "

"I wonder, " said Paula quietly. "Mr. Bell"--she stepped close tohim--"I am taking a desperate chance. For the sake of my father, Iwish certain things known. I think that you are an honorable man, andI think that you lied to me just now. Go and see Senor Ortiz. Yourgovernment will want to know what happens to him. Go and see himquickly. "

Bell felt the same flare of irritation as before. Women do not followrules. They will not follow rules. They depend upon intuition, whichis sometimes right, but sometimes leads to ungodly errors. Paula wasright this time, but she could have been wholly and hopelessly wrong. If she had talked to anyone else. .. . 

"My child, " said Bell paternally--he was at least two years older thanPaula--"you should be careful. I did not lie to you just now. I am notSecret Service. But I happen to know that you have a tiny piece ofstring to give your father, and I beg of you not to show that toanyone else. And--well--you are probably watched. You must not talkseriously to me!"

He lifted his hat and started astern. He was more than merelyirritated. He was almost frightened. Because the Trade, officially, does not exist at all, and everybody in the Trade is working entirelyon his own; and because those people who suspect that there is a Tradeand dislike it are not on their own, but have plenty of resourcesbehind them. And yet it is requisite that the Trade shall succeed inits various missions. Always. 

 * * * * *

The Government of the United States, you understand, will admit thatit has a Secret Service, which it strives to identify solely with thepursuit of counterfeiters, postal thieves, and violators of theprohibition laws. Strongly pressed, it will admit that some members ofthe Secret Service work abroad, the official explanation being thatthey work abroad to forestall smugglers. And at a pinch, and inconfidence, it may concede the existence of diplomatic secret agents. But there is no such thing as the Trade. Not at all. The funds whichmembers of the Trade expend are derived by very devious bookkeepingfrom the appropriations allotted to an otherwise honestly conductedDepartment of the United States Government. 

Therefore the Trade does not really exist. You might say that there isa sort of conspiracy among certain people to do certain things. Someof them are government officials, major and minor. Some of them areprivate citizens, reputable and otherwise. One or two of them are injail, both here and abroad. But as far as the Government of the UnitedStates is concerned, certain fortunate coincidences that happen nowand then are purely coincidences. And the Trade, which arranges forthem, does not exist. But it has a good many enemies. 

 * * * * *

The fog-horn howled dismally overhead. Mist swirled past the ship, andan oily swell surged vaguely overside and disappeared into a grayoblivion half a ship's length away. Bell moved on toward the stern. Itwas his intention to go into the smoking-room and idle ostentatiously. Perhaps he would enter into another argument with that Brazilian airpilot who had so much confidence in Handley-Page wing-slots. Bell had, in Washington, a small private plane that, he explained, had beengiven him by a wealthy aunt, who hoped he would break his neck in it. He considered that wing-slots interfered with stunting. 

He had picked out the door with his eye when he espied a small figurestanding by the rail. It was Ortiz, the Argentine ex-Cabinet Minister, staring off into the grayness, and seeming to listen with all hisears. 

Bell slowed up. The little stout man turned and nodded to him, andthen put out his hand. 

"Senor Bell, " he said quietly, "tell me. Do you hear airplane motors?"

Bell listened. The drip-drip-drip of condensed mist. The shuddering ofthe ship with her motors going dead slow. The tinkling, muted notes ofthe piano inside the saloon. The washing and hissing of the wavesoverside. That was all. 

"Why, no, " said Bell. "I don't. Sound travels freakishly in fog, though. One might be quite close and we couldn't hear it. But we're ahundred and fifty miles off the Venezuelan coast, aren't we?"

 * * * * *

Ortiz turned and faced him. Bell was shocked at the expression on thesmall man's face. It was drained of all blood, and its look wasghastly. But the rather fine dark eyes were steady. 

"We are, " agreed Ortiz, very steadily indeed, "but I--I have receiveda radiogram that some airplane should fly near this ship, and it wouldamuse me to hear it. "

Bell frowned at the fog. 

"I've done a good bit of flying, " he observed, "and if I were flyingout at sea right now, I'd dodge this fog bank. It would bepractically suicide to try to alight in a mist like this. "

Ortiz regarded him carefully. It seemed to Bell that sweat was comingout upon the other man's forehead. 

"You mean, " he said quietly, "that an airplane could not land?"

"It might try, " said Bell with a shrug. "But you couldn't judge yourheight above the water. You might crash right into it and dive under. Matter of fact, you probably would. "

Ortiz's nostrils quivered a little. 

"I told them, " he said steadily, "I told them it was not wise torisk. .. . "

 * * * * *

He stopped. He looked suddenly at his hands, clenched upon the rail. Adepth of pallor even greater than his previous terrible palenessseemed to leave even his lips without blood. He wavered on his feet, as if he were staggering. 

"You're sick!" said Bell sharply. Instinctively he moved forward. 

The fine dark eyes regarded him oddly. And Ortiz suddenly took hishands from the railing of the promenade deck. He looked at his fingersdetachedly. And Bell could see them writhing, opening and closing in ahorribly sensate fashion, as if they were possessed of devils andaltogether beyond the control of their owner. And he suddenly realizedthat the steady, grim regard with which Ortiz looked at his hands wasexactly like the look he had seen upon a man's face once, when thatman saw a venomous snake crawling toward him and had absolutely noweapon. 

Ortiz was looking at his fingers as a man might look at cobras at theends of his wrists. Very calmly, but with a still, stunned horror. 

 * * * * *

He lifted his eyes to Bell. 

"I have no control over them, " he said quietly. "My hands are uselessto me, Senor Bell. I wonder if you will be good enough to assist me tomy cabin. "

Again that deadly pallor flashed across his face. Bell caught at hisarm. 

"What is the matter?" he demanded anxiously. "Of course I'll helpyou. "

Ortiz smiled very faintly. 

"If any airplane arrives in time, " he said steadily, "something may bedone. But you have rid me of even that hope. I have been poisoned, Senor Bell. "

"But the ship's doctor. .. . "

Ortiz, walking rather stiffly beside Bell, shrugged. 

"He can do nothing. Will you be good enough to open this door for me?And"--his voice was hoarse for an instant--"assist me to put my handsin my pockets. I cannot. But I would not like them to be seen. "

Bill took hold of the writhing fingers. He saw sweat standing out uponOrtiz's forehead. And the fingers closed savagely upon Bell's hands, tearing at them. Ortiz looked at him with a ghastly supplication. 

"Now, " he said with difficulty, "if you will open the door, SenorBell. .. . "

Bell slid the door aside. They went in together. People were makingthe best of boresome weather within, frankly yawning, most of them. But the card-room would be full, and the smoking-room steward would bebusy. 

"My cabin is upon the next deck below, " said Ortiz through stiff lips. "We--we will descend the stairs. "

 * * * * *

Bell went with him, his face expressionless. 

"My cabin should be unlocked, " said Ortiz. 

It was. Ortiz entered, and, with his hands still in his pockets, indicated a steamer-trunk. 

"Please open that. " He licked his lips. "I--I had thought I would havewarning enough. It has not been so severe before. Right at thetop. .. . "

Bell flung the top back. A pair of bright and shiny handcuffs lay ontop of a dress shirt. 

"Yes, " said Ortiz steadily. "Put them upon my wrists, please. Thepoison that has been given to me is--peculiar. I believe that one ofyour compatriots has experienced its effects. "

Bell started slightly. Ortiz eyed him steadily. 

"Precisely. " Ortiz, with his face a gray mask of horror, spoke with asteadiness Bell could never have accomplished. "A poison, Senor Bell, which has made a member of the Secret Service of the United States ahomicidal maniac. It has been given to me. I have been hoping for itsantidote, but--Quick! Senor Bell! Quick! The handcuffs!"

CHAPTER II

The throbbing of the engines went on at an unvarying tempo. There wasthe slight, almost infinitesimal tremor of their vibration. Theelectric light in the cabin wavered rhythmically with its dynamo. Fromthe open porthole came the sound of washing water. Now and then adisconnected sound of laughter or of speech came down from the mainsaloon. 

Ortiz lay upon the bed, exhausted. 

"It is perhaps humorous, Senor Bell, " he said presently, in the samesteady voice he had used upon the deck. "It is undoubtedly humorousthat I should call upon you. I believe that you are allied with theSecret Service of your government. "

Bell started to shake his head, but was still. He said nothing. 

"I am poisoned, " said Ortiz. He tried to smile, but it was ghastly. "It is a poison which makes a man mad in a very horrible fashion. If Icould use my hands--and could trust them--I would undoubtedly shootmyself. It would be entirely preferable. Instead, I hope--"

He broke off short and listened intently. His forehead beaded. 

"Is that an airplane motor?"

Bell went to the port and listened. The washing of waves. Thethrobbing of the ship's engines. The dismal, long-drawn-out moaningof the fog-horn. Nothing else. .. . Yes! A dim and distant muttering. Itdrew nearer and died away again. 

"That is a plane, " said Bell. "Yes, It's out of hearing now. "

Ortiz clamped his jaws together. 

"I was about to speak, " he said steadily, "to tell you--many things. Which your government should know. Instead, I ask you to go to thewireless room and have the wireless operator try to get in touch withthat plane. It is a two-motored seaplane and it his a wireless outfit. It will answer the call M. S. T. R. Ask him to use his directionalwireless and try to guide it to the ship. It brings the antidote tothe poison which affects me. "

Bell made for the door. Ortiz raised his head with a ghastly smile. 

"Close the door tightly, " he said quietly. "I--I feel as if I shall beunpleasant. "

 * * * * *

Closing the door behind him, Bell felt rather like a man in anightmare. He made for the stairway, bolted for the deck, and fairlydarted up the ladder to the wireless room. 

"Ortiz sent me, " he said to the operator. "You heard that plane justnow. See if you can get it. "

The operator looked up at him beneath a green eyeshade and grinnedcrookedly. 

"Talking to 'em now, " he said. 

The key flicked up and down, and a tiny dancing spark leaped intobeing and vanished beneath its contact-point. The wireless room wasdark save for the bright, shaded light above the sending table. A fileof sent messages by an elbow. A pad for messages received was by ahand. Stray wreaths of tobacco smoke floated about the room, leapinginto view as they drifted beneath the lamp. 

"Is he bad?" asked the operator fascinatedly, his eyes fixed on hiskey. 

Bell felt his eyelids flicker. 

"Very bad, " he said shortly. 

"They tell me, " said the operator and shuddered, "your hands getworking and you can't stop 'em. .. . I'm playing, I am! I'm playing TheMaster's game!"

 * * * * *

The key stopped. He listened. 

"They're going to try to swoop over the ship and drop it, " he said amoment later. "I don't think they can. But tell Ortiz they're going totry. "

Bell's eyes were narrow. It is not customary for a radio operator on apassenger ship to speak of an ex-Cabinet Minister of the ArgentineRepublic by his surname only. It bespeaks either impertinence or acertain very peculiar association. Bell frowned imperceptibly for aninstant, thinking. 

"You've--had it?" he asked sharply. 

"God, no! I never took the chance! I saw the red spots once, and Iwent to Rib--Say! You got a password?"

He was staring up at Bell. Bell shrugged. 

"I'm trying to help Senor Ortiz now. "

The operator continued to stare, his eyes full of suspicion. Then hegrimaced. 

"All right. Go tell him they're going to drop it. "

 * * * * *

Bell went out. Gray fog, and washing seas, and the big ship ploughingsteadily on toward the south. .. . The horn blared, startlingly loud andunspeakably doleful. Bell listened for other sounds. There were none. 

Down the steep ladder to the promenade deck. Paula Canalejas nodded tohim. 

"I saw you speak to Senor Ortiz, " she said quietly. "You see?"

Bell was beginning to have a peculiar, horrible suspicion. It wasincredible, but it was inevitable. 

"I think I see, " he said harshly. "But I don't dare believe it. Keepquiet and don't speak to me unless I give you some sign it's safe!It's--hellish!"

He went inside and swiftly down the stairs. He found a stewardhesitating outside the door of Ortiz's cabin. He touched Bell's armanxiously as he was about to go in. 

"Beg pardon, sir, " he said, and stammered. "I--I heard Mr. Ortizmaking some--very strange noises, sir. I--I thought he was sick. .. . "

"He is, " said Bell grimly. "He told me he does not want a doctor, though. I'm looking after him. "

He closed the door behind him, and Ortiz grinned at him. It was ahorrible, a terrible grin, and Ortiz fought it from his face with aterrific effort of will. There was foam about his lips. 

 * * * * *

"_Dios!_ It was--it was devilish!" he gasped. "Senor Bell, _amigomio_, for the love of the good God get my revolver from my trunk. Giveit to me. .. . "

Bell said shortly: "The airplane just radioed that it's going to tryto swoop overhead and drop a package on board the steamer. It doesn'tdare alight in this fog. "

"I think, " gasped Ortiz, "I think it would be well to tie my feet. Tiethem fast! If--if the package comes, if I--if I am unpleasant, knockme unconscious and pour it into my mouth. I fear it is too late now. But try it. .. . "

Through the port came the muttering of a seaplane's engines. The noisedied away. Almost instantly the siren boomed hoarsely. 

"Ah, _Dios!_" said Ortiz unsteadily. "There it is! Senor Bell, I thinkit is too late. Would you--would you assist me to go out on deck, where I might fling myself overboard? I--think I can control my legsso long. "

"Steady!" said Bell, wrenched by the sight of the man before himfighting against unnameable horror. "Tell me--"

"It is poison, " said Ortiz, his features fixed in a terrible effort ofwill. "A ghastly, a horrible poison of the _Indios_ of Matto Grosso, in Brazil. It drives a man mad, murder mad. It is as if he werepossessed by a devil. His hands first refuse to obey him. His feetnext. And then his body. It is as if a devil had seized hold of hisbody and carried it about doing murder with it. A part of the brain isdriven insane, and a man goes about shrieking with the horror of whatcrimes his body commits until the poison reaches that portion of hisbrain as well. Then he is mad forever. That is what I face, _amigomio_. That is why I beg you, I implore you, to kill me or assist me tothe side of the ship so that I may fling myself overboard! The Masterhad it administered to me secretly, and demanded treason as the priceof the antidote. He deman--"

 * * * * *

Steady and strong, rising from a muttering to a steady roar, the soundof airplane motors came through the port. Bell started up. 

"Hold fast, " he snapped savagely. "I'll go get that package when itlands. Hold fast, I tell you! Fight it!"

He flung out of the cabin and raced up the stairs. The door to thedeck was open. He crowded through a group of passengers who haddiscounted the dampness for the sake of a novelty--an airplane far outat sea--and raced up to the upper deck. The roaring noise wasreceding. The siren roared hoarsely. Then the noise came back. 

For minutes, then, the ship seemed to play hide-and-seek with theinvisible fliers. The roaring noise overhead circled about, now near, now seeming very far away. And the siren sent its dismal blasts outinto the grayness all about. Then, for an instant, a swiftly scuddingshadow was visible overhead. It banked steeply and vanished, andseemed to have turned and come lower when it reappeared a momentlater. It was not distinct, at first. It was merely a silhouette ofdarker gray against the all-enveloping mist. But its edges sharpenedand became clear. One could make out struts, an aileron's trailingedge. 

"Got nerve, anyhow, " said Bell grimly. 

It swept across the ship and disappeared, but the noise of its enginesdid not dwindle more than a little. The blast of the siren seemed tosummon it back again. Once more it came in sight, and this time itdived steeply, flashed across the forecastle deck amid a hideousuproar, desperately, horribly close to the dangling derrick-cables, and was gone. 

 * * * * *

Bell had seen it more clearly than anyone else on the ship, perhaps. He saw a man in the pilot's cockpit between wings and tail reach highand fling something downward, something with a long streamer attachedto it. Bell had an instant's glimpse of the goggled face. Then he wasdarting forward, watching the thing that fell. 

It took only a second. Two at most. But the thing seemed to fall withinfinite deliberation, the streamer shivering out behind it. It fellat a steep slant, the forward momentum of the plane's speed added toits own drop. It swooped down, slanting toward the rail. .. . 

Bell groaned. It struck the rail itself, and bounced. A sailor flunghimself toward it. The streamer slipped from his fingers and slitheredover the side. 

Bell was at the railing just in time to see it drop into the water. Heopened his mouth to shout, and saw it sink. The last of the streamerfollowed the dropped object down into the green water when it wasdirectly below him. 

His hands clenched. Bell stared sickly at the spot where it hadvanished. An instant later he had whirled and was thrusting wide thewireless room door. The operator was returning to his key, grinningcrookedly. He looked up sidewise. 

"Tell them it went overside, " snapped Bell. "Tell them to try itagain. Ortiz is in hell! To try again! He's dying!"

 * * * * *

The operator looked up fascinatedly, his fingers working his key. 

"Is he--bad?" he asked with a shuddering interest. 

"He's dying!" snarled Bell, in a rage because of his helplessness. Hehad forgotten everything but the fact that a man below decks wasfacing the most horrible fate that can overtake a man, and facing itwith a steadfast gameness that made Bell's heart go out to him. 

"They don't die, " said the operator. He shuddered. "They don't die ofit. "

His key stopped. He listened. His key clicked again. 

"They only had two packages, " he said a moment later. "They don't darerisk the other one. They say the fog ends twenty miles farther on. They're going to land up there and taxi back on the surface of thewater. It shouldn't be more than half an hour. "

He pushed himself back from the table with an air of finality. 

"That's all. They've signed off. "

Bell felt rage sweeping over him. The operator grinned crookedly. 

"Better go down and tie him up, " he said, and licked his lips with thefascinated air of one thinking of a known and terrifying thing. "Better tie him up tight. It'll be half an hour more. "

 * * * * *

Bell went down the companion-ladder. The promenade was crowded withpassengers now, asking questions of each other. Some, frowningportentously, thought the plane an unscheduled ocean flier who hadlost his way in the fog. 

Paul Canalejas was close to Bell as he shouldered his way through thecrowd. 

"That was for him?" she asked, without moving her lips. 

Bell nodded. 

"Tell him, " she said quietly, "I--pray for him. "

Bell nodded abruptly and went into the saloon. It was nearly empty. Hewiped the sweat off his face. It was horrible to have to go down toOrtiz and tell him that at best it would be half an hour more. .. . 

Then there was a sudden scream below him, and then a shot. Bell jumpedfor the stairs, his heart in his throat, and saw Ortiz coming out ofhis stateroom door. His eyes were wide and agonized. His body. .. . 

Even in the incredibly short time before he reached the bottom of thesteps, Bell had time to receive the ghastly impression that Ortiz wassane, but that his body had gone mad. Ortiz's face was white andhorrified. His hands and arms were writhing savagely, working at thehandcuffs on his wrists. His legs were carrying him at a curious, padding trot down the hallway. One of the hands held a glitteringrevolver. A steward was crouched behind a couch, his face white andfilled with stark terror. And Ortiz held his head back, as ifstruggling to hold back and control his body, which was under thecontrol of a malignant demon. 

"Out of the way!" cried Ortiz in a voice of terrible despair. "Getsomeone to shoot me! Kill me! I cannot--ah, _Dios!_"

 * * * * *

The hands leveled the revolver in spite of him, while he flung hishead from side to side in a frantic attempt to disturb their aim. 

"Close your eyes!" panted Bell, and hurled himself upon--whom? It wasnot Ortiz. It was Ortiz's body, gone mad and raging. The manacled armsflailed about frenziedly. The gun went off. Again. Again. .. . 

Bell struck. He knocked the Thing that possessed Ortiz's body off itsfeet. The hands groped for him. They clubbed at him with the revolver. The feet kicked. .. . 

"Keep your eyes closed, " gasped Bell, struggling to get the gun awayfrom those horrible hands. "It--it can't see when you keep your eyesclosed!"

Fighting insanely as the Thing was fighting, he could not identify itwith Ortiz himself. One of the hands unclosed from about the revolverand clawed at his throat. It seemed to abandon that effort andattacked Ortiz's face in a frenzy of rage, struggling to claw his eyesopen. The other held the weapon fast with maniacal strength. 

At the horror of feeling one of his own manacled hands attacking hisface savagely as if it were itself a sensate thing, Ortiz opened hiseyes. They were wide with despair. 

The hand with the revolver made a sudden movement, and Bell flung hisweight upon it as the clutching hand pulled the trigger. There was adeafening report. .. . 

 * * * * *

The body seemed to weaken suddenly in Bell's grip. It fought less andless terribly, though with no lessening of its savagery. He managed toget the revolver away from the hands that shook with unspeakable rage. He flung it away and stood panting. 

There was a crowd of people suddenly all about the place. Staring, stunned, incredulous people who regarded Bell with a dawning, damningsuspicion. 

Ortiz spoke suddenly. His voice was weak, but it was steady, and itwas full of a desperate relief. 

"I wish to make a statement, " he said sharply. "I--I wished to commitsuicide for personal reasons. Senor Bell tried to dissuade me. Thehandcuffs upon my wrists were placed there with my consent. Senor Bellis my friend and has done me no wrong. I shot myself, with intention. "

Bell beckoned to the ship's doctor. 

"Get him bandaged up, " he ordered harshly. "There's no need for him todie. "

The body was writhing only feebly, now. Ortiz looked up at him, andmanaged a smile. Again there was that incredible impression of thebody not belonging to Ortiz, or Ortiz as a sane and whole andhonorable, admirable man, and the feebly writhing body with itsclutching hands as some evil thing that had properly been defeated andkilled. 

 * * * * *

The doctor bent down. It was useless, of course. He made futilemovements. 

"I wish to speak to my friend, Senor Bell, " said Ortiz weakly. "I--Ihave not long. "

Bell knelt beside him. 

"The Master's--deputy in Rio, " panted Ortiz weakly, almost in awhisper, "is--is Ribiera. In Buenos Aires I--I do not know. There wasa man--the one who poisoned me--but I killed him. Secretly. I do notthink--the Master knows. I pray that--"

He stopped. He could not speak again. But he smiled, and a few secondslater Bell clenched his hands. Ortiz was gone. 

Someone touched his arm. Paula Canalejas. He stared down at her andmanaged to smile. It was not a very successful smile. He drew a deepbreath. 

"I would like, " said Bell wryly, "to think that, when I die, I willdie as well as this man did. But I'm afraid I shan't. "

But Paula said:

"The airplane can be heard outside. It seems to be moving on thesurface. "

 * * * * *

And ten minutes later the plane loomed up out of the mist, queerlyungainly on the surface of the water. Its motors roared impatiently asif held in leash. It swung clumsily about, heading off out of sight inthe fog to turn. It came back, sliding along the top of the water withits wing-tip floats leaving alternate streaks of white foam behindthem. A man stood up in its after cockpit. 

Bell crowded to the rail. The man--goggled and masked--held up apackage as if to fling it on board. Bell watched grimly. But he sawthat the pilot checked himself and looked up at the upper deck. Bellcraned his neck. The wireless operator was waving wildly to theseaplane. He writhed his hands, and held his hand to his head is ifblowing out his brains, and waved the plane away, frantically. 

The pilot of the plane sat down. A moment later its motors roared morethunderously. It is not safe to alight on either land or water whenfog hangs low, but there is little danger in taking off. 

The seaplane shot away into the mist, its motors bellowing. The soundof its going changed subtly. It seemed to rise, and grow moredistant. .. . It died away. 

Bell halted at the top of the companion-ladder and saw the wirelessoperator, with a crooked, nervous grin upon his face. 

CHAPTER III

Bell saw what he was looking for, out in the throng of traffic thatfilled the Avenida do Acre, in Rio. He'd seen it over the heads of thecrowd, which was undersized, as most Brazilian crowds are, and hemanaged to get through the perpetual jam on the mosaic sidewalk andreach the curb. 

He stood there and regarded the vehicles filling the broad avenue, wearing exactly the indifferent, half-amused air of a tourist with noplace in particular to go and a great deal of time in which to gothere. Taxis chuffed past, disputing right of way with private carswhich were engaged in more disputes with other cars, all in the ratherextraordinary bad temper and contentiousness which comes to theLatin-American when he takes the wheel of an automobile. 

As if coming to an unimportant decision, Bell raised his hand to anapproaching cab. It had two men on the chauffeur's seat. Of course. All taxis in Rio carry two men in front. One drives, and the otherlights his cigarettes, makes witty comments upon passing ladies, andhelps in collecting the fares from recalcitrant passengers. The extraman is called the "secretary, " and he assists materially in giving animpression of haughty pride. 

The taxi ground to the curb. The secretary reached behind himindifferently and opened the door. Bell did not glance at him. Hestepped inside and settled down languidly. 

"The Beira Mar, " he said listlessly. 

The taxi started off with a jolt. It is the invariable custom in Riode Janeiro. And besides, it reminds the passenger that he is merely acustomer, admitted to the cab on suffrance, and that he must besuitably meek to those who will presently blandly ignore the amountregistered by the meter and demand a fare of from eight totwenty-seven times the indicated amount. 

 * * * * *

The cab went shooting down the Avenida do Acre toward the harbor. TheAvenida do Acre is officially the Avenida Rio Blanco, and it should becalled by that name, only people forget. The Beira Mar, however, isnamed with entire propriety. It is actually the edge of the sea, andit is probably one of the two or three most beautiful driveways in theworld. 

The cab whirled past the crowded sidewalks. Incredible numbers ofpeople, with an incredible variation in the shades of theircomplexions, moved to and from with the peculiar aimlessness of aBrazilian crowd. A stout and pompous negro politician from Bahia, wearing an orchid in his button-hole, rubbed elbows with a strikingblonde lady of the sidewalks on his left, and forced a wizened littlesilk-hatted _parda_--approximately an octoroon--to dodge about him inorder to progress. A young and languid person, his clothes the verylast expiring gasp of fashion, fingered his stick patiently. He worethe painstakingly cultivated expression of bored disillusionment youryoung Brazilian dandy considers aristocratic. It was very probablethat he shared a particularly undesirable bedroom with four or fiveother young men in order to purchase such clothing, but then, _farendafita_--making a picture--is the national Brazilian sport. 

Bell lighted a cigarette. It was not wise to regard the secretary ofthis particular taxi too closely, but if his face had been thicklysmeared with coal dust, and if he had had a two weeks' beard, and ifhe had been seen on the forecastle of the _Almirante Gomez_, one wouldhave deduced him to be a stoker who had not used the name of Jamison. 

 * * * * *

The cab reached the Beira Mar, and turned to take the long route aboutthe bay. It it one of the most beautiful views to be found anywhere, and tall apartment houses have been built along its whole length tocapitalize the scenery. True, the more brightly-colored ladies of thecapital have established themselves in vast numbers among theseapartment houses, but in their languid promenades they add--let ussay--the beauties of art to those of nature. 

A voice spoke from the chauffeur's seat. 

"Bell. "

"Right, " said Bell without moving. His eyes flickered, however, and hefound the device Jamison had inserted. A speaking-tube of sorts. Notespecially efficient, but inconspicuous enough. He stirred listlesslyand got his lips near it. 

"All right to talk?" he asked briefly. 

"Shoot, " said Jamison from the secretary's seat beside the chauffeur. "This man doesn't understand English, and he thinks I'm in a smugglinggang. He expects to make some money out of me eventually. "

Bell spoke curtly, while the taxi rolled past the Morro da Gloria withits quaint old church and went along the winding, really marvelousdriveway past many beaches, with the incredibly blue water beyond. 

"Canalejas is out of town, " he said. "It isn't known when he'll beback. I met his daughter at a dance at our Embassy here, and she toldme. We didn't dare to talk much, but she's frightened. Especiallyafter what happened to Ortiz. And I've met Ribiera, whom Ortiz named. "

"I've been looking him up, " growled Jamison through the speaking-tube. 

 * * * * *

Bell flicked the ash from his cigarette out the door, and went onquietly. 

"He's trying to get friendly with me. I've promised to call at hishouse and have him take me out to the flying field. He has two planes, he tells me, a big amphibian and a two-seater. Uses them for commutingbetween Rio and his place back inland. He went out of his way tocultivate me. I think he suspects I'm trying to find out something. "

"Which you are, " said Jamison dryly. "You've found out that Ortiz wasright at least about--"

Bell nodded, and frowned at himself for having nodded. He spoke intothe mouthpiece by his head with an expressionless face. 

"He's practically fawned upon by a bunch of important officials andseveral high ranking army officers. Suspecting what I do, I think he'sgot hold of a devil of a lot of power. "

Jamison scowled in a lordly fashion upon a mere pedestrian whothreatened to impede the movement of the taxicab by making it run overhim. 

 * * * * *

"Ortiz, " said Bell quietly, "told me he'd been poisoned, and treasonasked as the price of the antidote. I've heard that the BrazilianMinister for Foreign Affairs went insane six months ago. I heard, also, that it was homicidal mania--murder madness. And I'm wonderingif these people who fawn upon Ribiera aren't paying a pricefor--well--antidotes, or their equivalent. The Minister for ForeignAffairs may have refused. "

"You're improving, " said Jamison dryly. The taxi rounded a curve anda vista of sea and sand and royal palms spread out before it. "Yes, you're improving. But Ortiz spoke of Ribiera only as a deputy of TheMaster. Who is The Master?"

"God knows, " said Bell. He stared languidly out of the window, for allthe world to see. A tourist, regarding the boasted beauties of theBiera Mar. 

"A deputy, " said Jamison without emotion, "of some unknown personcalled The Master poisoned Ortiz in Buenos Aires. And Ortiz was animportant man in the Argentine. Ribiera is merely the deputy of thatsame unknown Master in Rio, and he has generals and state presidentsand the big politicians paying court to him. If deputies in twocountries that we know of have so much power, how much power has TheMaster?"

 * * * * *

Silence. The taxi chugged steadily past unnoticed beauties andcolorings. Rio is really one of the most beautiful cities in theworld. 

"It's like this, " said Jamison jerkily. "Seven Service men vanish andone goes mad. You get two tips that the fate of Ortiz is the fate ofthe seven men--eight, in fact. We find that two men dispense a certainghastly poison in two certain cities, at the orders of a man they callThe Master. We find that those two men wield an astounding lot ofpower, and we know they're only deputies, only subordinates of theMaster. We know, also, that the Service men vanished all over thewhole continent, not in just those two cities. How many deputies hasThe Master? What's it all about? He wanted treason of Ortiz, we know. What does he want of the other men his deputies have enslaved? Why didhe poison the Service men? And why--especially why--do two honorablemen, officials of two important nations, want to tip off the UnitedStates Government about the ghastly business? What's it got to do withour nation?"

Bell flung away his cigarette. 

"That last question has occurred to me too, " he observed, andcarefully repressed a slight shiver. "I have made a guess, which isprobably insane. I'm going to see Ribiera this afternoon. "

"He already suspects you know too much, " said Jamison withoutexpression. 

"I am"--Bell managed the ghost of a mirthless smile--"I amuncomfortably aware of it. And I may need an antidote as badly asOrtiz. If I do, and can't help myself, I'll depend on you. "

 * * * * *

Jamison growled. 

"I simply mean, " said Bell very quietly, "that I'd really rather notbe--er--left alive if I'm mad. That's all. But Ortiz knew what was thematter with him before he got bad off. I know it's a risk. I'mgoose-flesh all over. But somebody's got to take the risk. The guessI've made may be insane, but if it's right one or two lives will becheap enough as a price for the information. Suppose you chaps turnaround and take me to Ribiera's house?"

There was a long pause. Then Jamison spoke in Portuguese to hiscompanion. The taxi checked, swerved, and began to retrace its route. 

"You're a junior in the Trade, " said Jamison painstakingly. "I can'torder you to do it. "

Bell fumbled with his cigarette case. 

"The Trade doesn't exist, Jamison, " he said dryly. "And besides, nobody gives orders in The Trade. These are only suggestions. Now shutup a while. I want to try to remember some consular reports I readonce, from the consul at Puerto Pachecho. "

"What?"

"The consul there, " said Bell, smiling faintly, "was an amateurbotanist. He filled up his consular reports with accounts of nativeIndian medicinal plants and drugs, with copious notes and clinicalobservations. I had to reprove him severely for taking up space withsuch matters and not going fully into the exact number of hides, wetand dry, that passed through the markets in his district. Hisinformation will be entirely useless in this present emergency, butI'm going to try to remember as much of it as I can. Now shut up. "

 * * * * *

When the taxi swung off the Biera Mar to thread its way through manytree-lined streets--it is a misdemeanor, punishable by fine, to cutdown a tree in Rio de Janeiro--it carried a young American with theair of an accomplished idler, who has been mildly bored by theincomparable view from the waterside boulevard. When it stopped at thefoot of one of the slum covered _morros_ that dot all Rio, and aliveried doorman came out of a splendid residence to ask the visitorhis name, the taxi discharged a young American who seemed to feel theheat, in spite of the swift motion of the cab. He wiped off hisforehead with his handkerchief as he was assured that the SenhorRibiera had given orders he was to be admitted, night or day. When thetaxi drove off, it carried two men on the chauffeur's seat, of whomone had lost, temporarily, the manner of haughty insolence which isnormally inseparable from the secretary of a taxicab chauffeur. 

But though he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, Bell actuallyfelt rather cold when he followed his guide through ornately furnishedrooms, which seemed innumerable, and was at last left to wait in anespecially luxurious salon. 

There was a pause. A rather long wait. A distinctly long wait. Belllighted a cigarette and seemed to become mildly bored. He regarded avoluptuous small statuette with every appearance of pleased interest. A subtly decadent painting seemed to amuse him considerably. He didnot seem to notice that no windows at all were visible, and thatshaded lamps lit this room, even in broad daylight. 

 * * * * *

Two servants came in, a footman in livery and the major-domo. Youraverage _Carioca_ servant is either fawning or covertly insolent. These two were obsequious. The footman carried a tray with a bottle, glass, ice, and siphon. 

"The Senhor Ribiera, " announced the major-domo obsequiously, "begsthat the Senhor Bell will oblige him by waiting for the shortest ofmoments until the Senhor Ribiera can relieve himself of a businessmatter. It will be but the shortest of moments. "

Bell felt a little instinctive chill at sight of the bottle andglasses. 

"Oh, very well, " he said idly. "You may put the tray there. "

The footman lifted the siphon expectantly. Bell regarded itindifferently. The wait before the arrival of this drink had beenlonger than would be required merely for the announcing of a callerand the tending of a tray, especially if such a tray were a custom ofthe place. And the sending of a single bottle only, without inquiryinto his preferences. .. . 

"No soda, " said Bell. He poured out a drink into the tinier glass. Helifted it toward his lips, hesitated vaguely, and drew out hishandkerchief again. 

He sneezed explosively, and the drink spilled. He swore irritably, putdown the glass, and plied his handkerchief vigorously. A moment laterhe was standing up and pouring the drink out afresh, from the bottlein one hand to the glass in the other. He up-tilted the glass. 

"Get rid of this for me, " he said annoyedly of the handkerchief. 

 * * * * *

He saw a nearly imperceptible glance pass between the footman and themajor-domo. They retired, and Bell moved about the room exactly like ayoung man who has been discomfited by the necessity of sneezing beforeservants. Anywhere else in the world, of course, such a pose would nothave been convincing. But your Brazilian not only adopts _fazendafita_ as his own avocation, but also suspects it to be everybodyelse's too. And a young Brazilian of the leisure class would behorribly annoyed at being forced to so plebeian an exhibition inpublic. 

He moved restlessly about the room, staring at the picture. Presentlyhe blinked uncertainly and gazed about less definitely. He went ratheruncertainly to the chair he had first occupied and sat down. Hepoured--or seemed to pour--another drink. Again he sneered, and lookedmortified. He put down the glass with an air of finality. But helooked puzzledly about him. Then he sank back in his chair andgradually seemed to sink into a sort of apathetic indifference. 

 * * * * *

He looked, then, like a very bored young man on the verge of dozingoff. But actually he was very much alert indeed. He had the feeling ofeyes upon him for a while. Then that sensation ceased and he settledhimself to wait. And meantime he felt a particular, peculiar gratitudeto the late American consul at Puerto Pachecho for his interest inmedicinal plants. 

That gentleman had gone into the subject with the passionateenthusiasm of the amateur. He had described _icus_, _uirari_ and_timbo_. He had particularized upon _makaka-nimbi_ and _hervamoura_. And he had gone into a wealth of detail concerning _yagué_, on accountof its probable value if used in criminology. As consul at PuertoPachecho he was not altogether a success in some ways, but he hadinvented an entirely original method of experimentation upon thosedrugs and poisons which did not require to be introduced into theblood-stream. His method was simplicity itself. An alcoholic solution"carried" a minute quantity of the drug in its vapor, just as analcoholic solution carries a minute quantity of perfuming essentialoil. He inhaled the odor of the alcoholic solution. The effect wasimmediately, strictly temporary, and not dangerous. He was enabled todescribe the odors, in some cases the tastes, and in a few instancesthe effects of the substances he listed, from personal experience. 

 * * * * *

And Bell had used his method as an unpromising but possible test for adrug in the drink that had been brought him. He inhaled the stranglingodor of the spilled liquor on his handkerchief. And there was a druginvolved. For an instant he was dizzy, and for an instant he saw theroom through a vivid blue haze. And something clicked in his brain andsaid "It's _yagué_. " And the relief of dealing with something which heknew--if only at second-hand--was so enormous that he felt almostweak. 

_Yagué_, you see, is an extract from the leaves of a plant which isnot yet included in materia medica. It has nearly the effect ofscopolamine--once famous in connection with twilight sleep--andproduces a daze of blue light, an intolerable sleepiness, andpractically all the effects of hypnotism. A person under _yagué_, asunder scopolamine or hypnosis, will seem to slumber and yet will obeyany order, by whomever given. He will answer any question withoutreserve or any concealment. And on awakening he will remember nothingdone under the influence of the potion. The effects are notparticularly harmful. 

Bell then, sat in an apparent half-daze, half-slumber, in the salon inwhich he waited for Ribiera to appear. He knew exactly what he wasexpected to do. Ribiera wanted to find out what he knew or suspectedabout Ortiz's death. Ribiera wanted to know many things, and he wouldbelieve what Bell told him because he thought Bell had taken enough_yagué_ to be practically an hypnotic subject. Let Ribiera believewhat he was told!

When he came into the room, bland and smiling, Bell did not stir. Hewas literally crawling, inside, with an unspeakable repulsion to theman and the things for which he stood. But he seemed dazed and dull, and when Ribiera began to ask questions he babbled his answers in atoneless, flat voice. He babbled very satisfactorily, in Ribiera'sview. 

 * * * * *

When Ribiera shook him roughly by the shoulder he started, and let hiseyes clear. Ribiera was laughing heartily. 

"Senhor! Senhor!" said Ribiera jovially. "My hospitality is at fault!You come to be my guest and I allow you to be so bored that you dropoff to sleep! I was detained for five minutes and came in to find youslumbering!"

Bell stared ruefully about him and rubbed his eyes. 

"I did, for a fact, " he admitted apologetically. "I'm sorry. Up latelast night, and I was tired. I dropped in to see those planes yousuggested I'd be interested in. But I daresay it's late, now. "

Ribiera chuckled again. He was in his late and corpulent forties andwas something of a dandy. If one were captious, one might object tothe thickness of his lips. They suggested sensuality. And there was ashade--a bare shade--more of pigment in his skin than the Americanpasses altogether unquestioned. And his hair was wavy. .. . But he couldbe a charming host. 

"We'll have a drink, " he said bluntly, "while the car's coming aroundto the door, and then go out to the flying field. "

"No drink, " said Bell, lifting his hand. "I feel squeamish now. I say!Haven't you changed the lamps, or something? Everything looksblue. .. . "

That was a lie. Things looked entirely normal to Bell. But he lookedabout him as if vaguely puzzled. If he had drunk the liquor Ribierahad sent him, things would have had a bluish tinge for some timeafter. But as it was. .. . 

Ribiera chaffed him jovially on the way to the flying field. Andintroducing him to fliers and officials of the field, he told withgusto of Bell's falling asleep while waiting for him. A very jollycompanion, Ribiera. 

But Bell saw two or three men looking at him very queerly. Almostsympathetically. And he noticed, a little later, that a surprisingnumber of fliers and officials of the airport seemed to be concealingan abject terror of Ribiera. One or two of them seemed to hate him aswell. 

CHAPTER IV

Bell stepped out of a tall French window to a terrace, and from theterrace to the ground. There was a dull muttering in the sky to theeast, and a speck appeared, drew nearer swiftly, grew larger, andbecame a small army biplane. It descended steeply to earth behind atall planting of trees. Bell lighted a cigarette and movedpurposelessly down an elaborately formalized garden. 

"More victims, " he observed grimly to himself, of the plane. 

Ribiera lifted a pigmented hand to wave languidly from a shaded chair. There were women about him, three of them, and it sickened Bell to seethe frightened assiduity with which they flattered him. Bell had metthem, of course. Madame the wife of the State President of Bahia--inthe United States of Brazil the states have presidents instead ofgovernors--preferred the title of "Madame" because it was more foreignand consequently more aristocratic than Senhora. And Madame the wifeof the General--

"Senhor, " called Ribiera blandly, "I have news for you. "

Bell turned and went toward him with an air of pleased expectancy. Henoticed for the first time the third of the women. Young, in the firstflush of youthful maturity, but with an expression of stark terrorlingering behind a palpably assumed animation. 

"An acquaintance of yours, Senhor, " said Ribiera, "is to be myguests. "

Bell steeled himself. 

"The Senhor Canalejas, " said Ribiera, beaming, "and his daughter. "

 * * * * *

Bell seemed to frown, and then seemed to remember. 

"Oh, yes, " he said carelessly, "I met her in Washington. She was onthe _Almirante Gomez_, coming down. "

The next instant he saw Ribiera's expression, and cursed himself for afool. Ribiera's eyes had narrowed sharply. Then they half-closed, andhe smiled. 

"She is charming, " said Ribiera in drowsy contentment, "and I hadthought you would be glad to improve her acquaintance. Especiallysince, as my friend, you may congratulate me. A contract of marriageis under discussion. "

Bell felt every muscle grow taut. The fat, pigmented man beforehim. .. . 

"Indeed, " said Bell politely, "I do congratulate you. "

Ribiera looked at him with an expression in which a sardonicadmiration mingled with something else less pleasant. 

"You are clever, Senhor Bell, " he said heavily, seeming to sink moredeeply into his chair. "Very clever. " He shifted his eyes to the womenwho stood about him. "You may go, " he said indifferently. His tone wasexactly that of a despot dismissing his slaves. Two of them coloredwith instinctive resentment. His eyes lingered an instant on thethird. Her face had showed only a passionate relief. "You, Senhora, "he said heavily, "may wait nearby. "

The terror returned to her features, but she moved submissively to aspot a little out of earshot. Bell found his jaws clenched. There is acertain racial taint widespread in Brazil which leads to anintolerable arrogance when there is the slightest opportunity for itsexercise. Ribiera had the taint, and Bell felt a sickening wrath atthe terrified submission of the women. 

"_Si_, " said Ribiera, suddenly adverting to insolence. "You areclever, Senhor Bell. Where did you learn of _yagué_?"

 * * * * *

Bell inhaled leisurely. His muscles were tense, but he gave no outwardsign. Instead, he sat down comfortably upon the arm of a chair facingRibiera's. The only way to meet insolence is with equal insolence anda greater calm. 

"Ah!" said Bell pleasantly. "So you found out it didn't work, afterall!"

Ribiera's eyes contracted. He became suddenly enraged. 

"You are trifling with me, " he said furiously. "Do you know thepenalty for that?"

"Why, yes, " said Bell, and smiled amiably. "A dose of--er--poison ofThe Master's private brand. "

It was a guess, but based on a good deal of evidence. Ribiera turnedcrimson, then pale. 

"What do you know?" he demanded in a deadly quietness. "You cannotleave this place. You are aware of that. The people here--guests andservants--are my slaves, the slaves of The Master. You cannot leavethis place except also as my slave. I will have you bound and given_yagué_ so that you cannot fail to tell me anything that I wish toknow. I will have you tortured so that you will gladly say anythingthat I wish, in return for death. I will--"

"You will, " said Bell dryly, "drop dead with seven bullets in yourbody if you give a signal for anyone to attack me. "

 * * * * *

Ribiera stared at him as his hand rested negligently in his coatpocket. And then, quite suddenly Ribiera began to chuckle. His ragevanished. He laughed, a monstrous, gross, cackling laughter. 

"You have been my guest for two days, " he gasped, slapping his fatknees, "and you have not noticed that your pistol his been tamperedwith! Senhor Bell! Senhor Bell! My uncle will be disappointed in you!"

It seemed to impress him as a victory that Bell had been dependingupon an utterly futile threat for safety. It restored his good humormarvelously. 

"It does not matter, " he said jovially. "Presently you will tell meall that I wish to know. More, perhaps. My uncle is pleased with you. You recall your little talk with the wireless operator on the_Almirante Gomez_? You tried to learn things from him, Senhor. Hereported it. Of course. All our slaves report. He sent his report tomy uncle, The Master, and I did not have it until to-day. I will admitthat you deceived me. I knew you had talked with Ortiz, who was afool. I thought that in his despair he might have spoken. I gave you_yagué_, as I thought, and informed my uncle that you knew nothing. And he is very much pleased with you. It was clever to deceive meabout the _yagué_. My uncle has high praise for you. He has told methat he desires your services. "

Bell inhaled again. There was no question but that Ribiera was totallyunafraid of the threat he had made. His gun must have been tamperedwith, the firing-pin filed off perhaps. So Bell said placidly:

"Well? He desires my services?"

 * * * * *

Ribiera chuckled, in his gross and horrible good humor. 

"He will have them. Senhor. He will have them. When you observe yourhands writhing at the ends of your wrists, you will enter his service, through me. Of course. And he will reward you richly. Money, muchmoney, such as I have. And slaves--such as I have. The Senhora. .. . "

Ribiera looked at the terrified girl standing thirty or forty feetaway. He chuckled again. 

"My uncle desires that you should be induced to enter his service ofyour own will. So, Senhor, you shall see first what my uncle's serviceoffers. And later, when you know what pleasures you may some daypossess as my uncle's deputy in your own nation, why, then the factthat your hands are writhing at the ends of your wrists will be merelyan added inducement to come to me. And I bear you no ill will fordeceiving me. You may go. "

Bell rose. 

"And still, " he said dryly, "I suspect that you are deceived. But nowyou deceive yourself. "

He heard Ribiera chuckling as he walked away. He heard him call, amusedly, "Senhora. " He heard the little gasp of terror with which thegirl obeyed. He passed her, stumbling toward the gross fat man withthe light brown skin and curly hair. Her eyes were literally pools ofanguish. 

 * * * * *

Bell threw away his cigarette and began to fumble for another. He wasbeginning to feel the first twinges of panic, and fought them down. Ribiera had not lied. Bell had been at this _fazenda_ of his--whichwas almost a miniature Versailles three hundred miles from Rio--fortwo days. In all that time he had not seen one person besides himselfwho did not display the most abject terror of Ribiera. Ribiera hadmade no idle boast when he said that everyone about, guests andservants, were slaves. They were. Slaves of a terror vastly greaterthan mere fear of death. It--

"Senhor!. .. _Oh, Dios!_" It was the girl's voice, in despair. 

Ribiera laughed. Bell felt a red mist come before his eyes. 

He deliberately steadied his hands and lighted his cigarette. He heardstumbling footsteps coming behind him. A hand touched his arm. Heturned to see the girl Ribiera had pointed out, her cheeks utterly, chalky white, trying desperately to smile. 

"Senhor!" she gasped. "Smile at me! For the love of God, smile at me!"

In the fraction of a second, Bell was mad with rage. He understood, and he hated Ribiera with a corrosive hatred past conception. And thenhe was deathly calm, and wholly detached, and he smiled widely, andturned and looked at Ribiera, and Ribiera's whole gross bulk quiveredas he chuckled. Bell took the girl's arm with an excessive politenessand managed--he never afterward understood how he managed it--to grinat Ribiera. 

"Senhora, " he said in a low tone, "I think I understand. Stop beingafraid. We can fool him. Come and walk with me and talk. The idea isthat he must think you are trying to fascinate me, is it not?"

She spoke through stiffened lips. 

"Ah, that I could die!"

Bell had a horrible part to play while he walked the length of theformal garden with her, and found a pathway leading out of it, and ledher out of sight. He stopped. 

"Now, " he said sharply, "tell me. I am not yet his slave. He hasordered you. .. . "

She was staring before her with wide eyes that saw only despair. 

"I--I am to persuade you to be my lover, " she said dully, "or I shallknow the full wrath of The Master. .. . "

 * * * * *

Bell asked questions, crisply, but as gently as he could. 

"We are his slaves, " she told him apathetically. "I and _miArturo_--my husband. Both of us. .. . " She roused herself little underBell's insistent questioning. "We were guests at his house at dinner. Our friends, people high in society and in the Republic, were allabout us. We suspected nothing. We had heard nothing. But two weekslater Arturo became irritable. He said that he saw red spots beforehis eyes. I also. Then Arturo's hands writhed at the ends of hiswrists. He could not control them. His nerves were horrible. And mine. And we--we have a tiny baby. .. . And Senhor Ribiera called upon myhusband. He was charming. He observed my husband's hands. He had aremedy, he said. He gave it to my husband. He became normal again. Andthen--my hands writhed. Senhor Ribiera told my husband that if hewould bring me to him. .. . And I was relieved. We were grateful. Weaccepted the invitation of the Senhor Ribiera to this place. And heshowed us a man, in chains. He--he went mad before our eyes. He was amember of the United States Secret Service. .. . And then the SenhorRibiera told us that we faced the same fate if we did not servehim. .. . "

 * * * * *

Bell had thrust aside rage as useless, now. He was deliberately cold. 

"And so?"

"It is a poison, " she said unsteadily. "A deadly, a horrible poisonwhich drives men murder mad in two weeks from the time of itsadministration. The Senhor Ribiera has an antidote for it. But mixedwith the antidote, which acts at once, is more of the horrible poison, which will act in two weeks more. So that we are entrapped. If wedisobey him. .. . "

Bell began to smile slowly, and not at all mirthfully. 

"I think, " he said softly, "that I shall gain a great deal of pleasurefrom killing the Senhor Ribiera. "

"_Dios_--" She strangled upon the word. "Do you not see, Senhor, thatif he dies we--we--" She stopped and choked. "We--have a tiny baby, Senhor. We--we would. .. . "

Again sick rage surged up in Bell. To kill Ribiera meant to drive hisslaves mad, and mad in the most horrible fashion that can be imagined. To kill Ribiera meant to have these people duplicate the death ofOrtiz, as their greatest hope, or to fill madhouses with snarlinganimals lusting to kill. .. . 

"It is--it is not only I, Senhor, " said the girl before him. She wasutterly listless, and in the agony of despair. "It is Arturo, also. The Senhor Ribiera has said that if I do not persuade you, that bothArturo and I. .. . And our little baby, Senhor!. .. Our families alsowill be entrapped some day. He has said so. .. . He will give thatpoison to our baby. .. . And it will grow up either his slave, or--"

Her eyes were pools of panic. 

"Oh, God!" said Bell very quietly. "And he's offering me this power!He's trying to persuade me to become like him. He's offering mepleasures!"

 * * * * *

He laughed unpleasantly. And then he went sick with helplessness. Hecould kill Ribiera, perhaps, and let only God know how many people gomad. Perhaps. Or perhaps Ribiera would merely be supplanted by anotherman. Ortiz had said that he killed The Master's deputy in BuenosAires, but that another man had taken his place. And the thing wenton. And The Master desired a deputy in the United States. .. . 

"Somehow, " said Bell very softly, "this has got to be stopped. Somehow. Right away. That devilish stuff! Can you get hold of a bit ofthe antidote?" he asked abruptly. "The merest drop of it?"

She shook her head. 

"No, Senhor. It is given in food, in wine. One never knows that onehas had it. It is tasteless, and we have only Senhor Ribiera's wordthat it has been given. "

Bell's hands clenched. 

"So devilish clever. .. . What are we going to do?"

The girl stuffed the corner of her handkerchief into her mouth. 

"I am thinking of my little baby, " she said, choking. "I must persuadeyou, Senhor. I--I have been tearful. I--I am not attractive. I willtry. If I am not attractive to you. .. . "

 * * * * *

Bell cursed, deeply and savagely. It seemed to be the only possiblething to do. And then he spoke coldly. 

"Listen to me, Senhora. Ribiera talked frankly to me just now. Heknows that so far I am not subdued. If I escape he cannot blame you. He cannot! And I am going to attempt it. If you will follow me. .. . "

"There is no escape for me, " she said dully, "and if he thinks that Iknew of your escape and did not tell him. .. . "

"Follow me, " said Bell, smiling queerly. "I shall take care that hedoes not suspect it. "

He gazed about for an instant, orienting himself. The plane that hadjust landed--the last of a dozen or more that had arrived in the pasttwo days--had dipped down on the private landing field to the north. 

There was a beautifully kept way running from the landing field to thehouse, and he went on through the thick shrubbery amid a labyrinth ofpaths, choosing the turnings most likely to lead him to it. 

 * * * * *

He came out upon it suddenly, and faced toward the field. There weretwo men coming toward the house, on foot. One was a flying pilot, still in his flying clothes. The other was a tall man, for aBrazilian, with the lucent clarity of complexion that bespeaksuncontaminated white descent. He was white-haired, and his face wasqueerly tired, as if he were exhausted. 

Bell looked sharply. He seemed to see a resemblance to someone he knewin the tall man. He spoke quickly to the girl beside him. 

"Who is the man to the left?"

"Senhor Canalejas, " said the girl drearily. "He is the Minister ofWar. I suppose he, too. .. . "

Bell drew a deep breath. He walked on, confidently. As the two othersdrew near he said apologetically:

"Senhores. "

They halted with the instinctive, at least surface, courtesy of theBrazilian. And Bell was fumbling with his handkerchief, rathernervously tying a knot in it. He held it out to Canalejas. 

"Observe. "

It was, of course, a recognition-knot such as may be given to anoutsider by one in the Trade. The tall man's face changed. And Bellswung swiftly and suddenly and very accurately to the point of theother man's jaw. 

He collapsed. 

 * * * * *

"Senhor Canalejas, " said Bell politely, "I am about to go and steal anairplane to take what I have learned to my companion for transmission. If you wish to go with me. .. . "

Canalejas stared for the fraction of a second. Then he said quietly:

"But of course. "

He turned to retrace his steps. Bell turned to the girl. 

"If you are wise, " he said gently, "you will go and give the alarm. Ifyou are kind, you will delay it as much as you dare. "

She regarded him in agonized doubt for a moment, and nodded. She fled. 

"Now, " said Bell casually, "I think we had better hasten. And I hope, Senhor Canalejas, that you have a revolver. We will need one. Mine hasbeen ruined. "

Without a word, the white-haired man drew out a weapon and offered itto him. 

"I had intended, " he said very calmly, "to kill the Senhor Ribiera. His last demand is for my daughter. "

They went swiftly. The plane Bell had seen alight some fifteen ortwenty minutes before was just being approached by languid mechanics. It was, of course, still warm. Canalejas shouted and waved his armimperiously. It is probable that he gave the impression of a manreturning for some forgotten thing, left in the cockpit of the plane. 

 * * * * *

What happened then, happened quickly. A few crisp words in a low tone. A minor hubbub began suddenly back at the house. Canalejas climbedinto the passenger's seat as if looking for something. And Bellpresented his now useless automatic pleasantly at the head of thenearest staring mechanic, and while he froze in horror, scrambled upinto the pilot's cockpit. 

"Contact!" he snapped, and turned on the switch. The mechanic remainedfrozen with fear. "Damnation!" said Bell savagely. "I don't know thePortuguese for 'Turn her over'!"

He fumbled desperately about in the cockpit. Something whirred. Thepropeller went over. .. . Canalejas shot with painstaking accuracy, twice. The motor caught with a spluttering roar. 

As a horde of running figures, servants and guests, running with thesame desperation, came plunging out on the flying field from theshrubbery. Bell gave the motor the gun. The fast little plane's tailcame up off the ground as she darted forward. Faster and faster, withmany bumpings. The bumpings ceased. She was clear. 

And Bell zoomed suddenly to lift her over the racing, fear-riddencreatures who clutched desperately at the wheels, and then the littleship shot ahead, barely cleared the trees to the east of the field, and began to roar at her topmost speed toward Rio. 

CHAPTER V

The Trade--which does not exist--has its obligations and its code, butalso it has its redeeming features. When a man has finished his job, he has finished it. And as far as the Trade was concerned, Bell hadbut little more to do. But after that--and his eyes burned smokily intheir depths--there was much that he intended to do. He sat in one ofthe _bondes_ of the Botanical Garden half of the street railway systemof Rio, and absent mindedly regarded the scenery. This particular_bonde_ was headed out toward the Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas, by whichsalty mass of water Bell would meet Paula Canalejas. He would receivea package from her, which he would deliver to Jamison. And then hewould be free, and it was his private intention to engage in anenterprise which was very probably a form of suicide. But there aresome things one cannot dismiss with a sage reflection that they arenot one's business. This matter of Ribiera was definitely one of them. 

 * * * * *

The escape from Ribiera's _fazenda_ had been relatively easy, becauseso thoroughly unexpected. The little plane had climbed to fivethousand feet and found a stratum of cloud that stretched for verymany miles. Bell had emerged from it only twice in the first hour offlight, and the second time the sky was clear all about him. That hewas pursued, he had no doubt. That Ribiera had wireless communicationswith Rio, he knew. And he knew that instant, and imperative orderswould have gone out for his capture. 

Rio would not be a healthy place for him. If Ribiera had power overhigh government officials, he had surely indirect power over thepolice, and a search for Bell would be in order at once. Yet Canalejasassuredly expected to return to Rio. 

A shouted question with the motor cut out, and a nodded answer. Bellheaded for Petropolis, which is Rio's only real summer resort and ishigh in the hills and only an hour and a half from it by train. It wassurprisingly satisfactory to be handling a swift plane again, and Bellallowed himself what he knew was about the only pleasure he was likelyto have for some time to come. 

Something of his hatred of Ribiera, however, came back as he preparedto land. He managed to crack the plane up very neatly, so that itwould be of no use to Ribiera any more. And at the same time, ofcourse, the cracking-up provided an excellent excuse for Canalejas tocontinue on by train. 

 * * * * *

They talked very briefly by the puffing engine. 

"It is best, " said Canalejas, "for you, Senhor, to remain hereovernight. I believe Senhor Ribiera has given orders for us both to belooked for, yet as a Cabinet Minister I am still immune from arrest bythe ordinary police. If I reach my home I shall be able to do all thatis necessary. "

"And you will prepare a message for me to carry, " said Bell. 

"It is ready, " said Canalejas. He smiled faintly. "No, Senhor. I haveinstructions to give my daughter. She will deliver the information toyou to-morrow. Let me see. At the edge of the Lagao Rodrigo deFeitas, at nine o'clock. She is the only messenger I can trust. Ithink that is all. "

Bell hesitated uncomfortably. 

"But you, sir, " he said awkwardly. "You have been poisoned, as SenorOrtiz was. "

"But certainly, " said Canalejas. His smile was ironic as before. "But, unlike Senor Ortiz, I have no hope. I have arranged for my daughter toconceal herself and escape from Brazil. I have prepared foreverything, Senhor. As you know, I had intended to kill SenhorRibiera. In returning with you I have merely delayed my own death by afew hours. "

Still smiling, and with the air of one entering a train for the mostcasual of journeys, Canalejas entered the coach. 

 * * * * *

And Bell, sitting in the _bonde_ next morning, saw with an uncannyclarity the one weak point in Ribiera's hold upon his subjects. Whenthey had courage to fear nothing more than death, they could defy him. And not many could attain to that courage. But a few. .. . 

"I'll have some help, anyway, " muttered Bell savagely to himself. 

It it a long ride to the Botanical Gardens, from which one half thesurface lines of Rio take their name. On the way out to the LagaoRodrigo de Feitas, which, is close by the Garden itself, Bell had timeto work over for the thousandth time the information he possessed, andrealize its uselessness. Two things, only, might be of service. Onewas that Ribiera was the nephew of the person referred to as TheMaster, and yet was evidently as much subjected to him as his ownvictims to himself. The other was that the ultimate end of all theghastly scheme was in some fashion political. If wealth alone had beenRibiera's aim, the gathering of his slaves would have had a differentaspect. The majority of them would have been rich men, men ofbusiness, men who could pay out hundreds of thousands a month in thedesperate hope of being permitted to remain sane. There would not havebeen politicians and officials and officers of the army. 

"The key men of the country, " growled Bell inaudibly, "enslaved toRibiera. They give him the power he's after more than cash. And it'sthose key men who have more to lose than money. There's such a thingas honor. .. . "

Three times the conductor stopped beside him and suggestively rattledthe coins in his box. Three times Bell absent mindedly paid the farefor the zone. But the ride is a long one, and he had had time torealize the hopelessness of any single-handed attack upon the thing hefaced long before the end. 

Then he absently moved through the amazing collection of tropic andnear tropic growths that is the Botanical Garden until he came at onceto Paula and the Lagoa Rodrico de Freitas. 

 * * * * *

It was alive with birds, and they hopped and pecked and squabbledwithout acrimony within feet of her seated figure. Bell knew that shehad been waiting for a long time. He looked quickly at her face. Itwas quite pale, but entirely tearless. 

"Here is the message, Senhor Bell, " she said quietly, "but I think Ihave been followed. "

Bell growled in his throat. 

"I did not discover it until I reached this spot, " she said evenly. "And I did not know what to do. If I left, I would be seized and themessage taken--and I think that someone would have waited here foryou. So, in part to gain time, and in part because I hoped you mighthave some resource, I remained. "

"How many of them?" asked Bell shortly. 

"Two, " she said quietly. She looked at him, her large eyes entirelycalm and grave. 

"Give me the package, " said Bell briefly. "They'll be more anxious toget it back than to bother you. And I'll either knock them cold orhold them in a scrap until you get away. "

She reached in her pocket and handed him a small thick envelope. Hestuffed it in the side pocket of his coat. 

"I will walk away, " he observed, "and they'll follow me. Can youarrange to give me some sign that you're safe?"

"By the gateway, " she told him. "My handkerchief. I shall start assoon as you have vanished. If I am followed, I will drop thishandkerchief, as it is. If I am not followed, I will tie a knot. Butwhat can you do?"

"I'll do something, " said Bell coldly. "Something!"

 * * * * *

She smiled, with the same odd bitterness her father had shown. 

"My father--shot himself, " she said briefly. "I have no particularhope of doing better. But I shall not be Ribiera's slave. "

She remained quite still. Bell moved away. He hurried. There was thickjungle ahead, a section of the Gardens that is painstakingly preserveduntouched and undisturbed, that visitors to the capital of Brazil mayobserve a typical sample of the virgin interior. He dived into thatjungle as if in flight. 

And very shortly after, two men dived in after him. They hesitated, these men, because your policeman of Rio does not like to injure hisuniform, and there are many thorns in jungle growths. But they enteredit, having first drawn small glittering weapons. And then from thejungle came silence. 

 * * * * *

It seemed to be silence. But there may have been some small unusualnoises. It would not be easy to tell if they were unusual or not, because there are peculiar flashes of charm in certain Brazilianinstitutions. The preservation of the spot of jungle itself is one. Another is the fact that in the Gardens all manner of wild thingslive at large and provide unexpected and delightful surprises to theusually foreign visitors. 

So there were noises, after a bit. Such noises as some grunting wildthing might have made, perhaps. But they might also have been thegasping of a man as breath was choked out of him. .. . And there was acracking sound a little later, which might--of course--have been anyone of any number of accidental and perfectly natural causes. And itmight have been a man upon whom another man had hurled himself, whenthe second man landed on his jaw. And thrashing noises a little latermight have been anything. 

But after what seemed a long time, Bell emerged. Alone. He wasbreathing quickly, and there were scratches on his face and handswhich--well, which might have been made by thorns. He went swiftlyback toward the spot where Paula had waited. He looked cautiously. Shewas gone. 

And then Bell went leisurely, in the studious fashion of a persongoing through the Botanical Gardens because it was the thing to do, toward the gateway and the surface cars. As he neared the gate hiseyes roved with apparent casualness all about. He saw a tiny speck ofwhite on the edge of the roadway. It looked as if it had been flungfrom a car. Bell picked it up. It was Paula's handkerchief, and therewas no knot whatever in it. In fact, its lacy edge was torn. 

"They've got her, " said Bell, apparently unmoved. 

 * * * * *

He waited for a car. A bulky figure wearing thick spectacles cameplacidly from the Gardens. It waited, also, for the car. The cararrived, in its two sections of first and second class; the firstreserved for _cavalhieros_, which is to say persons wearing coat, shirt, collar, necktie, hat, shoes and socks, and carrying no parcellarger than a brief case. Lesser folk who lacked any of the sartorialrequirements for admission to the first class section, or wore_tomancos_ instead of shoes, heaped themselves into the second sectionand paid one-third of the fare in the first. 

Ball took his seat in the first section. It was comfortably filled. The bulky person with the thick spectacles wedged himself carefullyinto the space beside Bell. He unfolded a copy of the _Jornal doCommercio_ and began to regard the advertisements. Presently he foundwhat he was looking for. "_O Bicho_, " said medium-sized type. Besideit was a picture of a kangaroo. The gentleman with the thickspectacles resignedly fished into his pockets and found a lotteryticket. He tore it into scraps and threw them away. Then he began togaze disinterestedly at the scenery and the other passengers in thecar. 

 * * * * *

Bell drummed on his knee. With one's forefinger representing a dot, and one's second finger serving as a dash, it is surprising hownaturally and absentmindedly one may convey a perfectly intelligiblemessage to a man sitting within a reasonable distance. When the man isalongside, the matter is absurdly simple. 

Presently the man with the thick lenses got out his paper again, as ifbored by vistas such as no other city in the world can offer. Hispaper was in the pocket which pressed against Bell. If in getting outhis newspaper he also abstracted a thick fat envelope from Bell'spocket and placed it in his own, and if all this took place under asign--even in the section reserved for _cavalhieros_ of approvedraiment--solemnly warning passengers against "_batadores decarteiras_, " or pickpockets--well, it was an ironical coincidencewhose humor Bell did not see. 

He was busily tapping out on his knee the briefest possible account ofwhat he had learned at Ribiera's _fazenda_ up country. 

"_One chance for me_, " he tapped off at the end. "_If I can kidnapRibiera I can make him talk. Somehow. He has big amphibian plane keptfueled and ready for long trip. I think he is back in Rio to directhunt for me. Paula kidnapped. My job finished. On my own now. _"

The man with thick spectacles did not nod. He seemed to be lookingidly at his paper, but it was folded at an article very discreetlyphrased, beneath a photograph of Senhor Teixeira Canalejas, Ministerof War, who had very unfortunately been found dead that morning. Hehad been depressed, of late, but there were certain circumstanceswhich made it as yet impossible to determine whether he had killedhimself or was the victim of an assassin. 

"_Getting set for me_, " tapped Bell grimly on his knee. "_Ribiera toldme too much. _"

 * * * * *

The man with thick spectacles yawned and turned the paper over. Undera smaller headline--which would only find a place on a Braziliansheet--"A Regrettable Incident"--an item of more direct importance wasprinted. It told of an unnamed Senhor from the United States of theNorth America, who as the guest of a widely known Brazilian gentlemanhad behaved most boorishly, had stolen an airplane from his host andbroken it to bits on landing unskilfully, and had vanished withpriceless heirlooms belonging to his host. It read, virtuously:

 No names are mentioned because the American Senhor has been widely introduced in Rio society as a person with an official status in Washington. It is understood that an inquiry is to be made of the Ambassador as to the status of the young man, before any action is taken by the police. It is to be expected, however, that he will at least be requested to leave the country. 

Bell managed the barest flicker of a smile. Arrest, of course. Detention, most courteously arranged, while the Ambassador wascommunicated with. And Ribiera. 

"_Give me dismiss_, " he tapped on his knee. 

The gentleman in the thick spectacles ran his finger thoughtfullyabout the edge of his collar. In the Trade that is a signal of manyvaried meanings. A hand across the throat in any fashion means, "Clearout, your job is finished, " "Save your skin as best you can, " and "Getaway without trying to help me, " according to circumstances. In thiscase it relieved Bell of all future responsibility. 

He yawned, tapping his lips with the back of his hand, signaled for astop of the car, and got out. Five minutes later he had signaled ataxicab and given Ribiera's address. In six minutes he was beingwhirled toward the one house in all Rio de Janeiro from which hischance of a safe departure was slightest. In little more than half anhour he had dismissed the cab and was gazing placidly into thestartled eyes of the doorman. The doorman, like all of Rio whereRibiera was known and feared, knew that Bell was being hunted. 

Bell handed over his card with an inscrutable air. 

"The Senhor Ribiera, " he said drily, "returned to the city last night. Present my card and say that I would like to speak to him. "

 * * * * *

The doorman ushered him inside and summoned the major-domo, stillblinking his amazement. And the major-domo blinked again. But Bellfollowed with the air of an habitué, as he was again ushered into theluxurious salon in which he had once been offered a drugged drink. 

Again he sank down in a softly padded chair and surveyed the picturesand the minor objects of decadent art about him. Again he lighted acigarette with every appearance of ease, and again had the impressionof eyes upon him. The major-domo appeared, somewhat agitated. 

"The Senhor Ribiera, " he said harshly, "will see you only if you arenot armed. He requires your word of honor. "

Bell smiled lazily. 

"I'll do better than that, " he said languidly. "I haven't had time tobuy a revolver. But the automatic he had put out of commission is inmy pocket. Present it to him with my compliments. "

He handed over the weapon, butt first. The major-domo blinked, andtook it. Bell sat down and smiled widely. He had been expected to beuproarious, to attempt to force the major-domo to lead him to Ribiera. And, of course, he would have been led past a perfectly planned ambushfor his capture--but he might have killed the major-domo. Which wouldnot disturb Ribiera, but had disturbed the servant. 

 * * * * *

Bell smoked comfortably. And suddenly hangings parted, and Ribieracame into the room. He smiled nervously, and then, as Bell blew a puffof smoke at him and nodded casually, he scowled. 

"I came, " said Bell deliberately, "to make a bargain. Frankly, I donot like to break my word. I was under obligations to deliver apackage from Senhor Canalejas to a certain messenger who will take itto my government. I have done it. But I am not, Senhor Ribiera, amember of the Secret Service. I am entirely a free agent now, and I amprepared to consider your proposals, which I could not in honor dobefore. "

He smiled pleasantly. Effrontery, properly managed, is one of the mostvaluable of all qualities. Especially in dealing with people whothemselves are arrogant when they dare. 

 * * * * *

Ribiera purpled with rage, and then controlled it. 

"Ah!" he rumbled. "You are prepared to consider my proposals. Thereare no proposals. The Master may be amused at your cleverness inescaping. I do not know. I do know that I am ordered to make you myslave and send you to The Master. That, I shall do. "

"Perhaps, " said Bell blandly: "but I can go without food and drink forseveral days, which will delay the process. And while I cannothonorably tell you how to stop the man bearing Senhor Canalejas'package to my government, still . .. If I willingly accepted a dose of_yagué_ in token of my loyalty to The Master. .. . "

Ribiera's good humor returned. He chuckled. 

"You actually mean, " he said jovially, "that you think you were givensome of The Master's little compound, and that you wish to make termsbefore your hands begin to writhe at the ends of your wrists. Is notthat your reason?"

Bell's eyes flickered. He had been horribly afraid of just that. ButRibiera's amusement was reassuring. 

"Perhaps, " said Bell. "Perhaps I am. "

 * * * * *

Ribiera sat down and stretched his fat legs in front of him. Hesurveyed Bell with an obscene, horrible amusement. 

"Ah, Senhor, " he chuckled, "some day we will laugh together over this!You yet hope, and do not yet know how much better it will be for youif you cease to hope, and cultivate desires! The Master is pleasedwith you. You have just those qualities he knows are necessary indealing with your nation. He is not angry with you. It is hisintention to use you to extend his--ah--influence among the officialsof your nation. You know, of course, that in but a little more time Iwill hold all Brazil--as I now hold this city--in the hollow of myhand. Four of the republics of this continent are already completelyunder the control of The Master's deputies, and of the rest, Brazil isnot the most nearly subdued. A year or two, and The Master willbecome Emperor, and his deputies viceroys. And it is his whim to giveyou the opportunity of becoming the first deputy and the first viceroyof North America. And you come to me and offer--you, Senhor!--to maketerms! I believe even The Master will laugh when he hears of it. "

"But, " said Bell practically, "do you accept my terms?"

Ribiera chuckled again. 

"What are they, Senhor?"

"That you release the daughter of the Senhor Canalejas and pledge yourword of honor that she will not be enslaved. "

 * * * * *

Ribiera's word of honor, of course, would be worth rather less thanthe breath that was used to give it. But his reception of the proposalwould be informative. 

He chuckled again. 

"No, Senhor. I do not accept. But I will promise you as a favor, because my uncle The Master admires you, that within a few weeks youshall enjoy her charms. I do not, " he added with amused candor, "findthat any one woman diverts me for a very long time. "

"Oh, " said Bell, very quietly. 

He sat still for an instant, and then shrugged, and looked about as iffor an ash tray in which to knock the ashes from his cigarette. Hestood up, carrying the tube of tobacco gingerly, and moved toward oneby Ribiera's elbow. He knocked off the ash, and crushed out the tinycoal. He fumbled in his pockets. 

The next instant Ribiera choked with terror. 

"Let me explain, " said Bell softly. "I did not give your major-domo myword that I was unarmed. I merely gave him a weapon. I got these fromtwo policemen who tried to arrest me an hour or so ago. And I alsoremind you, Senhor, that if the armed men you have posted to preventmy escape try to shoot me, that the inevitable contraction of mymuscles will send two bullets into your heart--even if I am dead. Iam a dead man, Senhor, if you give the word, but so are you if yougive it. "

Ribiera gasped. His eyes rolled in his head. 

"Send for her, " said Bell very gently. "Send for her, Senhor. Iestimate that she has been in this house for less than half an hour. Have her brought here at once, and if she has been harmed the three ofus will perish very promptly, and half of Rio will go mad after ourdeath. "

And the muzzles of two revolvers bored into the fat flesh of Ribiera'sbody, and a gasp that was almost a wail of terror came from thewatchers--armed watchers--who dared not kill the man they had beenposted to guard Ribiera against. 

Ribiera lifted his hand and croaked an order. 

(_To be continued. _)

[Advertisement:]

Brigands of the Moon

(The Book of Gregg Haljan)

PART THREE OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL

_By Ray Cummings_

[Illustration: Light-rays and silent flashes seemed to envelop us. ]

[Sidenote: Gregg and Anita risk quick, sure death in a desperate bluffon the ruthless Martian brigands. ]

_WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE_

One day in 2075 the Interplanetary Space-Ship _Planetara_ left theEarth for Mars. I, Gregg Haljan, was third officer. 

It was destined to be a tragic voyage. For in our midst wereunscrupulous brigands, masquerading as harmless passengers, intent onseizing the secret treasure of radium ore Johnny Grantline of theGrantline Expedition had dug from the Moon. The _Planetara_ was tostop on the Moon and pick the treasure up on her return trip fromMars. 

Miko, a giant Martian, and his sister, Moa, were the ringleaders. Withthem were, as passengers, Sir Arthur Coniston and Ob Hahn, a Venusmystic. The whole crew was in their pay. 

Miko struck. The captain was killed, as were the officers. Only SnapDean, the radio-helio operator, Venza, a girl of Venus, and I wereleft. And, of course, Anita Prince, who had captivated my heart uponmy first glimpse of her. 

The brigands abandoned the other passengers on a small asteroid, andMiko signaled his space-ship far off on Mars to meet him on the Moon. I was forced to guide the _Planetara_ to the Moon. We sighted the hutsof the Grantline Expedition, and suddenly, just as we started todescend, the controls, snapped, and the _Planetara_ tumbled like aspent rocket! Desperately I tried to check her, but only partiallysucceeded. We crashed horribly against the barren gray rock of theMoon. Anita, Venza, Snap and I lived through it, but we could not findthe bodies of Miko and Moa in the wreckage. Evidently they were stillalive, somewhere. 

We reached Johnny Grantline. The _Planetara_ was a complete wreck. And, speeding to us from Mars, was Miko's brigand ship. 

We were powerless--without means of leaving the Moon--and completelyat the mercy of Miko's fast approaching brigands!

CHAPTER XXIII

_The Prowling Watchman_

"Try it again, " Snap urged. "Good God, Johnny, we've got to raise someEarth station! Chance it! Use your power--run it up to the full. Chance it!"

We were gathered in Grantline's instrument room. The duty-man, withblanched grim face, sat at his senders. The Grantline crew shovedclose around us, tense and silent. 

Above everything we must make some Earth station aware of our plight. Conditions were against us. There were very few observers, in thehigh-powered Earth stations who knew that an exploring party was onthe Moon. Perhaps none of them. The Government officials who hadsanctioned the expedition--and Halsey and his confrčres in theDetective Bureau--were not anticipating trouble now. The _Planetara_was supposed to be well on her course to Ferrok-Shahn. It was when shewas due to return that Halsey would be alert. 

And it seemed, too, that nature was against us. The bulginghalf-Earth[1] hung poised near the zenith over our little crater. Itsrotation through the hours was clearly visible. We timed our signalswhen the western hemisphere was facing us. But nature was against us. No clouds, no faintest hint of mist could fog the airless Lunarsurface. But there were continuous clouds over the Americas. 

[Footnote 1: Between the half and the full illumined disc, thecomplete Earth now was some ten days old. ]

"Try it again, " Snap urged. 

 * * * * *

These bulging walls! Grantline used his power far beyond the limits ofsafety. He cut down his lights; the telescope intensifiers werepermanently disconnected; the ventilators were momentarily stilled, sothat the air here in the little room crowded with men rapidly grewfetid. All to save power pressure, that the vital Erentz system mightsurvive. 

Even so it was strained to the danger point. The walls seemed to bulgeoutward with the pressure of the room, the aluminite braces strainingand creaking. And our heat was radiating away; the deadly chill ofspace crept in. 

"Again!" ordered Grantline. 

The duty-man flung on the power in rhythmic pulses. In the silence thetubes hissed. The light sprang through the banks of rotating prisms, intensified up the scale until, with a vague, almost invisible beam, it left the last swaying mirror and leaped through our overhead domeinto space. 

"Commander!" The duty-man's voice carried an appeal. These bulgingwalls! If they cracked, or even sprung a serious leak, the camp wouldbe uninhabitable. .. . 

"Enough, " said Grantline. "Switch it off. We'll let it go at that fornow. "

It seemed that every man in the room had been holding his breath inthe darkness. The lights came on again: the Erentz motors acceleratedto normal. The strain on the walls eased up, and the room beganwarming. 

Had the Earth caught our signal? We did not want to waste the power tofind out. Our receivers were disconnected. If an answering signalcame, we could not know it. One of the men said:

"Let's assume they saw us. " He laughed, but it was a high-pitched, tense laugh. "We don't dare even use the telescope. Our rescue shipwill be right overhead, visible to the naked eye before we see it. Three days more--that's what I'll give it. "

 * * * * *

But the three days passed, and no rescue ship came. The Earth wasalmost at the full. We tried signaling again. Perhaps it gotthrough--we did not know. But our power was weaker now. The wall ofone of the rooms sprang a leak, and the men were hours repairing it. Idid not say so, but never once did I feel that our signals were seenon Earth. Those cursed clouds! The Earth almost everywhere seemed tohave poor visibility. 

Four of our eight days of grace were all too soon passed. The brigandship must be half-way here by now. 

They were busy days for us. If we could have captured Miko and hisband, our danger would have been less imminent. With the treasureinsulated so that its Gamma rays could not betray us, and our camp indarkness, the arriving brigand ship might never find us. But Miko knewour location: he would signal his encoding ship when it was close andlead it to us. 

Three times during those days--and the days which followedthem--Grantline sent out searching parties. But it was unavailing. Miko, Moa and Coniston, with their five underlings, could not befound. We searched all the territory from the camp to the _Planetara_, and off to the foot-crags of Archimedes, and a score of miles into theflatness of the Mare Imbrium. There was no sign of the brigands. Yetwe knew they could be near here--it was so easy to hide amid thetumbled crags, the ravines, the gullies, the numberless craters andpit-holes: or underground in the vast honeycombed subterraneanrecesses. 

 * * * * *

We had at first hoped that the brigands might have perished. But thatwas soon dispelled! I went--about the third day--with the party thatwas sent to the _Planetara_. We wanted to salvage such of itsequipment, its unbroken power units, as might be available. And Snapand I had worked out an idea which we thought might be of service. Weneeded some of the _Planetara's_ smaller gravity-plate sections. Thosein Grantline's wrecked little _Comet_ had stood so long that theirradiations had gone dead. But the _Planetara's_ were stillefficacious. 

We secured the fragments of Newtonia. [2] But our hope that Miko mighthave perished was dashed. He too had returned to the _Planetara_! Theevidence was clear before us. The vessel was stripped of all its powerunits save those which were dead and useless. The last of the food andwater stores was taken. The weapons in the chart-room--the Bensoncurve-lights, bullet projectors, and heat-rays--had vanished. 

[Footnote 2: An allusion to the element Newtonia, named in memory ofthe great founder of celestial mechanics, Sir Isaac Newton. Artificially electronized, this metal element may be charged eitherpositively or negatively, thus to attract or repell other masses ofmatter. The gravity plates of all space-ships were built of it. ]

Other days passed. The Earth reached the full, and began waning. Thetwenty-eight day Lunar night was in its last half. No rescue ship camefrom Earth. We had ceased our efforts to signal, for we needed all ourpower to maintain ourselves. The camp would be in a state of siege. That was the best we could hope for. We had a few short-range weapons, such as Bensons, heat-rays and rifles. A few hundred feet of effectiverange was the most any of them could obtain. The heat-rays--in giantform one of the most deadly weapons on Earth--were only slowlyefficacious on the airless Moon. Striking an intensely cold surface, their warming radiations, without atmosphere to aid them, were slowto act. Even in a blasting heat-beam a man in his Erentz helmet-suitcould withstand the ray for several minutes. 

 * * * * *

We were, however, well equipped with explosives. Grantline had broughta large supply for his mining operations, and much of it was stillunused. We had, also, an ample stock of oxygen fuses, and a variety ofoxygen light flares in small fragile glass-globes. 

It was to use these explosives against the brigands that Snap and Iwere working out our scheme with the gravity-plates. The brigand shipwould come with giant projectors and with some thirty men. If we couldhold out against them for a time, the fact that the _Planetara_ wasmissing would bring us help from Earth. 

"A month, " said Grantline. "A month at the most. If we can hold themoff that long--even in a week or two help may come. "

Another day. A tenseness fell on us all, despite the absorption of ourfeverish activities. To conserve the power, the camp was almost dark, we lived in dim, chill rooms, with just a few weak spots of lightoutside to mark the watchmen on their rounds. We did not use thetelescope, [3] but there was scarcely an hour when one or the other ofthe men was not sitting on a cross-piece up in the dome of the littleinstrument room, casting tense searching gaze into the black, starryfirmament. A ship might appear at any time now--a rescue ship fromEarth, or the brigands from Mars. 

 * * * * *

Anita and Venza during these days could aid us very little save bytheir cheering words. They moved about the rooms, trying to inspireus; so that all the men, when they might have been humanly sullen andcursing their fate, were turned to grim activity, or grim laughter, making a joke of this coming siege. The morale of the camp now wasperfect. An improvement indeed over the inactivity of the formerpeaceful weeks!

[Footnote 3: An old-fashioned telescope, of limited field and needingno electronic power, would have been immensely serviceable toGrantline, but his was of the more modern type. ]

Grantline mentioned it to me. "We'll put up a good fight, Haljan. These fellows from Mars will know they've had a task before they eversail off with this treasure. "

I had many moments alone with Anita. I need not mention them. Itseemed that our love was crossed by the stars, with an adverse fatedooming it. And Snap and Venza must have felt the same. Among the menwe were always quietly, grimly active. But alone. .. . I came upon Snaponce with his arms around the little Venus girl. I heard him say:

"Accursed luck! That you and I should find each other too late, Venza. We could have a mighty lot of fun in Great-New York together. "

"Snap, we will!"

As I turned away, I murmured: "And, pray God, so will Anita and I. "

The girls slept together in a small room of the main building. Oftenduring the time of sleep, when the camp was stilled except for thenight watch, Snap and I would sit in the corridor near the girls'door-grid, talking of that time when we would all be back on ourblessed Earth. 

 * * * * *

Our eight days of grace were passed. The brigand ship was due--now, to-morrow, or the next day. 

I recall, that night, my sleep was fitfully uneasy. Snap and I had acubby together. We talked, and made futile plans. I went to sleep, butawakened after a few hours. Impending disaster lay heavily on me. Butthere was nothing abnormal nor unusual in that!

Snap was asleep. I was restless, but I did not have the heart toawaken him. He needed what little repose he could get. I dressed, leftour cubby and wandered out into the corridor of the main building. 

It was cold in the corridor, and gloomy with the weak blue light. Aninterior watchman passed me. 

"All as usual, Haljan. "

"Nothing in sight?"

"No. They're looking. "

I went through the connecting corridor to the adjacent building. Inthe instrument-room several of the men were gathered, scanning thevault overhead. 

"Nothing, Haljan. "

I stayed with them awhile, then wandered away. The outside man met menear the admission lock-chambers of the main building. The duty-manhere sat at his controls, raising the air-pressure in the locksthrough which the outside watchman was coming. The relief sat here inhis bloated suit, with his helmet on his knees. It was Wilks. 

"Nothing yet, Haljan. I'm going up to the peak of the crater to see ifanything is in sight. I wish that damnable brigand ship would come andget it over with. "

Instinctively we all spoke in half whispers, the tenseness bearing inon us. 

The outside man came out of his helmet. He was white and grim, but hegrinned at Wilks. 

"All is usual. " He tried the familiar jest at Wilks, but his voice wasflat: "Don't let the Earthlight get you!"

Wilks went out through the portes--a process of no more than a minute. I wandered away again through the corridors. 

 * * * * *

I suppose it was half an hour later that I chanced to be gazingthrough a corridor window. The lights along the rocky cliff-edge weretiny blue spots. The head of the stairway leading down to the abyss ofthe crater floor was visible. The bloated figure of Wilks was justcoming up. I watched him for a moment making his rounds. He did notstop to inspect the lights. That was routine; I thought it queer thathe passed them. 

Another minute passed. The figure of Wilks went with slow bounds overtoward the back of the ledge where the glassite shelter housed thetreasure. It was all dark off there. Wilks went into the gloom, butbefore I lost sight of him he came back. As though he had changed hismind he headed for the foot of the staircase which led up thecliff-face to where, at the peak of the little crater, five hundredfeet above us, the narrow observatory platform was perched. He climbedwith easy bounds, the light on his helmet bobbing in the gloom. 

I stood watching. I could not tell why there seemed to be somethingqueer about Wilks' actions. But I was struck with it, nevertheless. Iwatched him disappear over the peak of the summit. 

Another minute went by. Wilks did not reappear. I thought I could makeout his light on the platform up there. Then abruptly a tiny whitebeam was waving from the observatory platform! It flashed once ortwice, then was extinguished. And now I saw Wilks plainly, standing inthe Earthlight, gazing down. 

Queer actions! Had the Earthlight touched him? Or was that a localsignal-call which he had sent out? Why should Wilks be signalling?What was he doing with a hand-helio? Our watchmen, I knew, had noreason to carry one. 

And to whom could Wilks be signalling across this Lunar desolation?The answer stabbed at me: to Miko's band!

I waited another moment. No further light. Wilks was still up there!

 * * * * *

I went back to the lock entrance. Spare suits and helmets were herebeside the keeper. He gazed at me inquiringly. 

"I'm going out, Franck, just for a minute. " It struck me that perhapsI was a meddlesome fool. Wilks, of all Grantline's men, was, I knew, most in his commander's trust. The signal could have been some part ofthis night's ordinary routine, for all I knew. 

I was hastily donning an Erentz suit. I added, "Let me out. I just gotthe idea Wilks is acting queerly. " I laughed. "Maybe the Earthlighthas touched him. "

With my helmet on I went through the locks. Once outside, with theouter panel closed behind me, I dropped the weights from my belt andshoes and extinguished my helmet-light. 

Wilks was still up there. Apparently he had not moved. I bounded offacross the ledge to the foot of the ascending stairs. Did Wilks see mecoming? I could not tell. As I approached the stairs the platform wascut off from my line of vision. 

I mounted with bounding leaps. In my flexible gloved hand I carried myonly weapon, a small bullet projector with oxygen firing caps for usein this outside near-vacuum. The leaden bullet with its slight masswould nevertheless pierce a man at the distance of twenty feet. 

I held the weapon behind me. I would talk to Wilks first. 

I went slowly up the last hundred feet. Was Wilks still up there? Thesummit was bathed in Earthlight. The little metal observatory platformcame into view above my head. 

Wilks was not there. Then I saw him standing on the rocks nearby, motionless. But in a moment he saw me coming. 

I waved my left arm with a gesture of greeting. It seemed to me thathe started, made as though to leap away, then changed his mind andwaited for me. 

I sailed from the head of the staircase with a twenty-foot leap andlanded lightly beside him. I gripped his arm for audiphone contact. 

"Wilks!"

Through the visors his face was visible. I saw him, and he saw me. AndI heard his voice. 

"You, Haljan! How nice!"

It was not Wilks, but the brigand Coniston!

CHAPTER XXIV

_Imprisoned!_

The duty-man at the exit locks of the main building stood at hiswindow and watched me curiously. He saw me go up the spider-stairs. Hecould see the figure he thought was Wilks, standing at the top. He sawme join Wilks, saw us locked together in combat. 

For an instant the duty-man stood amazed. There were two fantastic, misshapen figures swaying in the Earthlight five hundred feet abovethe camp, fighting desperately at the very brink. They were small, dwarfed by distance, alternately dim and bright as they swayed in andout of the shadows. Soon the duty-man could not tell one from theother. Haljan and Wilks--fighting to the death!

The duty-man recovered himself and sprang into action. An interiorsiren-call was on the instrument panel near him. He rang it, alarmingthe camp. 

The men came rushing to him, Grantline among them. 

"What's this? Good God, Franck!"

They saw the silent, deadly combat up there on the cliff. The twofigures had fallen together from the observatory platform, droppedtwenty feet to a lower landing on the stairs. They lay as thoughstunned for a moment, then fought on. 

Grantline stood stricken with amazement. "That's Wilks!"

"And Haljan, " the duty-man gasped. "Went out--something wrong withWilks--acting strangely--"

The interior of the camp was in a turmoil. The men awakened fromsleep, ran out into the corridors, shouted questions. 

"An attack?"

"Is it an attack?"

"The brigands?"

 * * * * *

But it was Wilks and Haljan in a fight out there on the cliff. The mencrowded at the bulls'-eye windows. 

And over all the confusion the alarm siren, with no one thinking toshut it off, was screaming with its electrical voice. 

Grantline, stricken for that moment of inactivity, stood gazing. Oneof the figures broke away from the other, bounded up to the summitfrom the stair-platform to which they had fallen. The other followed. They locked together, swaying at the brink. For an instant it seemedto Grantline that they would go over; then they surged back, momentarily out of sight. 

Grantline found his wits. "Stop them! I'll go out to stop them! Whatfools!"

He was hastily donning one of the Erentz suits which stood at the lockentrance. "Shut off that siren, Franck!"

Within a minute Grantline was ready. The duty-man called from thewindow:

"Still at it! By the infernal, such fools! They'll kill themselves!"

The figures had swayed back into view, then out of sight again. 

"Franck, let me out. "

Grantline was ready. He stood, helmet in hand. 

"I'll go with you, Commander. "

But the volunteer was not equipped. Grantline would not wait. 

"I'm going at once. Hurry, Franck. "

The duty-man turned to his panel. The volunteer shoved a weapon atGrantline. "Here, take this. "

Grantline jammed on his helmet. 

 * * * * *

He moved the few steps into the small air-chamber which was the firstof the three pressure locks. Its interior door-panel swung open forhim. But the door did not close after him!

Cursing the duty-man's slowness, he waited a few seconds. Then heturned to the corridor. The duty-man came running. 

Grantline took off his helmet. "What in hell--"

"Broken! Dead!"

"What!"

"Smashed from outside, " gasped the duty-man. "Look there--my tubes--"

The control-tubes of the portes had flashed into a close-circuit andburned out. The admission portes would not open!

"And the pressure controls smashed! Broken from outside--!"

There was no way now of getting out through these pressure-locks. Thedoors, the entire pressure-lock system, was dead. Had it been tamperedwith from outside?

As though to answer Grantline's amazed question there came a chorus ofshouts from the men at the corridor windows. 

"Commander! By God--look!"

A figure was outside, close to the building! Clothed in suit andhelmet, it stood, bloated and gigantic. It had evidently been lurkingat the porte-entrance, had ripped out the wires there. 

It moved past the windows, saw the staring faces of the men, and madeoff with giant bounds. Grantline reached the window in time to see itvanish around the building corner. 

It was a giant figure, larger than a normal Earthman. A Martian?

 * * * * *

Up on the summit of the crater the two small figures were stillfighting. All this turmoil had taken no more than a minute or two. 

A lurking Martian outside? The brigand, Miko? More than ever, Grantline was determined to get out. He shouted to his men to don someof the other suits, and called for some of the hand bullet projectors. 

But he could not get out through these main admission portes. He couldhave forced the panels open perhaps; but with the pressure-changingmechanisms broken, it would merely let the air out of the corridor. Arush of air, probably uncontrollable. How serious the damage was noone could tell as yet. It would perhaps take hours to repair it. 

Grantline was shouting. "Get those weapons! That's a Martian outside!The brigand leader, probably! Get into your suits, anyone who wants togo with me! We'll go by the manual emergency exit!"

But the prowling Martian had found it! Within a minute Grantline wasthere. It was a smaller, two-lock gateway of manual control, so thatthe person going out could operate it himself. It was in a corridor atthe other end of the main building. But Grantline was too late! Thelever would not open the panels!

Had someone gone out this way and broken the mechanisms after him? Atraitor in the camp? Or had someone come in from outside? Or had theskulking Martian outside broken this lock as he had broken the other?

The questions surged on Grantline. His men crowded around him. Thenews spread. The camp was a prison. No one could get out. 

And outside, the skulking Martian had disappeared. But Wilks andHaljan were still fighting. Grantline could see the two figures up onthe observatory platform. They bounded apart, then together again. Crazily swaying--bouncing--striking the rail. 

 * * * * *

They went together in a great leap off the platform onto the rocks, and rolled in a bright patch of Earthlight. First one on top, then theother, they rolled, unheeding, to the brink. Here, beyond the midwayledge which held the camp, it was a sheer drop of a thousand feet, ondown to the crater-floor. 

The figures were rolling: then one shook himself loose, rose up, seized the other and, with a desperate lunge, shoved him--

The victorious figure drew back to safety. The other fell, hurtlingdown into the shadows past the camp-level--down out of sight in thedarkness of the crater-floor. 

Snap, who was in the group near Grantline at the windows, gasped. 

"God! Was that Gregg Haljan who fell?"

No one could say. No one answered. Outside, on the camp-ledge, anotherhelmeted figure now became visible. It was not far from the mainbuilding when Grantline first noticed it. It was running fast, bounding toward the spider-staircase. It began mounting. 

And now still another figure became visible--the giant Martian again. He appeared from around the corner of the main Grantline building. Heevidently saw the winner of the combat on the cliff, who now wasstanding in the Earthlight, gazing down. And he saw, too, no doubt, the second figure mounting the stairs. He stood quite near the windowthrough which Grantline and his men were gazing, with his back to thebuilding, looking up to the summit. Then he ran with tremendous leapstoward the ascending staircase. 

Was it Haljan standing up there on the summit? Who was it climbing thestaircase? And was the third figure Miko?

Grantline's mind framed the questions. But his attention was torn fromthem, and torn even from the swift silent drama outside. The corridorwas ringing with shouts. 

"We're imprisoned! Can't get out! Was Haljan killed? The brigands areoutside!"

And then an interior audiphone blared a call for Grantline. Someone inthe instrument room of the adjoining building was talking:

"Commander, I tried the telescope to see who got killed--"

But he did not say who got killed, for he had greater news. 

"Commander! The brigand ship!"

Miko's reinforcements from Mars had come. 

CHAPTER XXV

_The Combat on the Crater-top_

Not Wilks, but Coniston! His drawling, British voice:

"You, Gregg Haljan! How nice!"

His voice broke off as he jerked his arm from me. My hand with thebullet-protector came up, but with a sweeping blow he struck mywrist. The weapon dropped to the rocks. 

I fought instinctively, those first moments; my mind was whirling withthe shock of surprise. This was not Wilks, but the brigand Coniston. 

His blow wrenched him around. Awkward, fighting in the air-puffedsuits, with only a body-weight of some thirty pounds! Conistonstumbled over the rocks. I had still scarce recovered my wits, but Iavoided his outflung arms, and, stooping, tried to recover myrevolver. It lay nearby. But Coniston followed my scrambling steps andfell upon me. My foot struck the weapon; it slid away and fell down acrag into a six-foot pit. 

We locked together, and when I rose erect he had me around the middle. His voice jangled with broken syllables in my receiver. 

"Do for you now, Haljan--"

It was an eery combat. We swayed, shoving, kicking, wrestling. Hishold around my middle shut off the Erentz circulation; the warningbuzz rang in my ears to mingle with the rasp of his curses. I flunghim off, and my tiny Erentz motors recovered. He staggered away, butin a great leap came at me again. 

I was taller, heavier and far stronger than Coniston. But I found himcrafty, and where I was awkward in handling my lightness, he seemedmore skilfully agile. 

 * * * * *

I became aware that we were on the twenty-foot square grid of theobservatory platform. It had a low metal railing. We surged againstit. I caught a dizzying glimpse of the abyss. Then it receded as webounced the other way. And then we fell to the grid. His helmet bashedagainst mine, striking as though butting with the side of his head topuncture my visor-panel. His gloved fingers were trying to rip at thefabric around my throat. 

As we regained our feet, I flung him off, and bounded, like a diver, head-first into him. He went backward, but skilfully kept his feet, gripped me again and shoved me. 

I was tottering at the head of the staircase--falling. But I clutchedat him. 

We fell some twenty or thirty feet to the next lower spider landing. The impact must have dazed us both. I recall my vague idea that we hadfallen down the cliff--my Erentz motors smashed--my air shut off. Thenthe air came again. The roaring in my ears was stilled; my headcleared, and I found that we were on the landing--fighting. 

He presently broke away from me, bounded to the summit, with me afterhim. In the close confines of the suit I was bathed in sweat, andgasping. I had had no thought to increase the oxygen content of myair. But I sorely needed more oxygen for my laboring, pounding heartand my panting breath. I fumbled for the oxygen control-lever. I couldnot find it; or it would not operate. 

I realized I was fighting sluggishly, almost aimlessly. But so wasConiston!

 * * * * *

It seemed dreamlike. A phantasmagoria of blows and staggering steps. Anightmare with only the horrible vision of this goggled helmet alwaysbefore my eyes. 

It seemed that we were rolling on the ground, back on the summit. Theunshadowed Earthlight was clear and bright. The abyss was beside me. Coniston, rolling, was now on top, now under me, trying to shove meover the brink. It was all like a dream--as though I were asleep, dreaming that I did not have enough air. 

I strove to keep my senses. He was struggling to roll me over thebrink. Ah, that would not do! But I was so tired. One cannot fightwithout oxygen!

I suddenly knew that I had shaken him off and gained my feet. He roseup, swaying. He was as tired, confused, half-asphyxiated as I. 

The brink of the abyss was behind us. I lunged, desperately shoving, avoiding his clutch. 

He went over, and fell soundlessly, his body whirling end over enddown into the shadows, far down. 

I drew back. My senses faded as I sank panting to the rocks. But withinactivity, my thumping heart quieted. My respirations slowed. TheErentz circulation gained on my poisoned air. It purified. 

That blessed oxygen! My head cleared again. Strength came to me. Ifelt better. 

Coniston had fallen to his death. I was victor. I went to the brink, cautiously, for I was still dizzy. I could see, far down there on thecrater-floor, a little patch of Earthlight in which a mashed humanfigure was lying. 

 * * * * *

I staggered back again. A moment or two must have passed while I stoodthere on the summit, with my senses clearing and my strength renewedas the blood-stream cleared in my veins. 

I was victor. Coniston was dead. I saw now, down on the lowerstaircase below the camp-ledge, another goggled figure lying huddled. That was Wilks, no doubt. Coniston had doubtless caught him there, surprised him, killed him. 

My attention, as I stood gazing, went down to the camp-buildings. Another figure was outside! It bounded along the ledge, reached thefoot of the ascending staircase at the top of which I was standing. With agile leaps, it came mounting at me!

Another brigand! Miko? No, it was not large enough to be Miko, notnearly large enough. I was still confused. I thought of Hahn. But thatwas absurd. Hahn was in the wreck of the _Planetara_. One of thestewards then. .. . 

The figure came up the staircase recklessly, to assail me. I took astep backward, bracing myself to receive this new antagonist. 

And then I saw Miko! Unquestionably he: for there was no mistakinghis giant figure. He was down on the camp-ledge, running toward thefoot of the staircase, coming up to help this other man in advance ofhim. 

I thought of my revolver. I turned to try and find it. I was awarethat the first of my assailants was at the stairhead. I could notlocate at once where the revolver had fallen. I would be caught, leaped upon from behind. Should I run?

I swung back to see what the oncoming brigand was doing. He hadreached the summit. His arms went up, legs bent under him. With asailing leap he launched for me. I could have bounded way, but with alast look to locate the revolver, I braced myself for the shock. 

The figure hit me. It was small and light in my clutching arms. Irecall I saw that Miko was half-way up the staircase. I gripped myassailant. The audiphone contact brought a voice. 

"Gregg! Is it you?"

It was Anita clutching at me!

CHAPTER XXVI

_At Bay_

"Gregg, you're safe!"

She had heard the camp corridors resounding with the shouts that Wilksand Haljan were fighting. She had come upon a suit and helmet by themanual emergency lock, had run out through the lock, confused, withher only idea to stop Wilks and me from fighting. Then she had seenone of us killed. Impulsive, barely knowing what she was doing, shemounted the stairs, frantic to find if I were alive. 

"Anita!"

Miko was coming! She had not seen him: for she had no thought ofbrigands--only the belief that either Wilks or I had been killed. 

But now, as for an instant we stood together on the rocks near theobservation platform, I could see the towering figure of Miko nearingthe top of the stairs. 

"Anita, that's Miko! We must run. "

Then I saw my bullet projector. It lay in a bowl-like depression quitenear us. I jumped for it. And as I tore loose from Anita, she leapeddown after me. It was a broken bowl in the rocks, some six feet deep. It was open on the side facing the staircase--a narrow, ravinelikegully, full of gray, broken, tumbled rock-masses. The little gully waslittered with crags and boulders. But I could see out through it. 

Miko had come to the head of the staircase. He stopped there, hisgreat figure etched sharply by the Earthlight. I think he must haveknown that Coniston was the one who had fallen over the cliff, as myhelmet and Coniston's were different enough for him to recognize whichwas which. He did not know who I was, but he did know me for an enemy. 

 * * * * *

He stood now at the summit, peering to see where we had gone. He wasno more than fifty feet from us. 

"Anita, lie down. "

I pulled her down on the rocks. I took aim with the bullet projector. But I had forgotten our helmet-lights. Miko must have seen them justas I pulled the trigger. The flying bullet missed him as he jumpedsidewise. He dropped, but I could see him moving in the shadows towhere a jutting rock gave him shelter. I fired again. 

"Gregg. "

I had stood up to take aim. I saw the bullet chip a bit of rock. Anitapulled me sharply down beside her. 

"Gregg, he's armed!"

It was his turn to fire. It came--the familiar vague flash of theparalyzing ray. It spat its tint of color on the rocks near us, butcould not reach us. 

Miko rose a moment later and bounded to another rock. I scrambled up, and shot at him, but missed. Then he crouched and returned my firefrom his new angle; but Anita and I had shifted. 

Time passed--only a few moments. I could not see Miko momentarily. Perhaps he was crouching; perhaps he had moved away again. He was, orhad been, on slightly higher ground than the bottom of our bowl. Itwas dim down here where we were lying, but I feared that every momentMiko might appear and strike at us. His ray at any short range wouldpenetrate our visor-panes, even though our suits might temporarilyresist it. 

"Anita--it's too dangerous here. "

Had I been alone, I might perhaps have leaped up to lure Miko. Butwith Anita I did not dare chance it. 

"We've got to get back to the camp, " I told her. The audiphone broughther comment:

"Perhaps he has gone. "

 * * * * *

But he had not. We saw him again, out in a distant patch ofEarthlight. He was further from us than before, but on still higherground. We had extinguished our small helmet-lights. But he knew wewere here, and possibly he could see us. His projector flashed again. But we had again shifted, and were untouched. He was a hundred feet ormore away now. His weapon was of longer range than mine. I did notanswer his fire, for I could not hope to hit him at such a distance, and the flash of my weapon would help him with his aim. 

I murmured to Anita, "We must get out of here. "

Yet how did I dare take Anita from these concealing shadows? Mikocould reach us so easily as we bounded away, in plain view in theEarthlight of the open summit! We were caught, at bay in this littlebowl. 

The camp from here was not visible. But out through the broken gully, beyond the staircase top, a white beam of light suddenly came up frombelow. 

"_Haljan. _"

It spelled the signal. 

"_Haljan. _"

It was coming from the Grantline instrument room, I knew. 

I could answer it with my helmet-light, but I did not dare. Ihesitated. 

"Try it, " urged Anita. 

 * * * * *

We crouched where we thought we might be safe from Miko's fire. Mylittle light-beam shot up from the bowl. It was undoubtedly visible tothe camp. 

"_Yes? I am Haljan. _"

And I added:

"_Help! Send us help. _"

I did not mention Anita. Miko could doubtless read these signals. Andin the camp they must have missed Anita by now. They answered:

"_Cannot_--"

I lost the rest of it. There came a flash from Miko's weapon. But itgave us confidence. He could not reach us at the moment. 

The Grantline beam repeated:

"_Cannot come out. Portes broken. You cannot get in. Stay where youare--an hour or two. We may be able to repair portes. _"

The portes were broken! Stay here an hour or two! But I could not holdthis position against Miko that long! Sooner or later he would find aplace from where he could sweep this bowl beyond possibility of ourhiding. I saw him running now, well beyond my range, to ferret outanother point of vantage. 

I extinguished my light. What use was it to tell Grantline anythingfurther? Besides, my light was dangerous. 

But the Grantline beam spelled another message:

"_The brigand ship is coming! It will be here before we can get out toyou! No lights! We will try and hide our location. _"

And the signal-beam brought a last appeal to me:

"_Miko and his men will divulge where we are. Unless you can stopthem_--"

The beam vanished. The lights of the Grantline camp made a faint glowthat showed above the crater-edge. The glow died, as the camp now wasplunged into darkness. 

CHAPTER XXVII

_Anita's Plan_

We crouched in the shadows, the Earthlight filtering down to us. Theskulking figure of Miko had vanished; but he was out there somewhereon the crags I was sure, lurking, maneuvering to where he could strikeus with his ray. Anita's metal-gloved hand was on my arm; in my eardiaphragm her voice sounded eager and unmistakable:

"What was the signal, Gregg?"

She could not read the semaphore lights. I told her. 

"Oh Gregg, the Martian ship coming!"

Her mind clung to that as the most important thing. But not so myself. To me there was only the realization that Anita was caught out here, almost at the mercy of Miko's ray. Grantline's men could not get outto help us, nor could I get Anita into the camp. 

She added, "Where do you suppose the ship is? In telescopic view?"

"Yes--twenty or thirty thousand miles up, probably. "

The stars and the Earth were visible over us. Somewhere up theredisclosed by Grantline's instrument but not yet discernible to thenaked eye, Miko's reinforcements were hovering. 

I stood up cautiously to try and locate Miko. Immediately I saw him. He jumped as though fearing my coming bullet, and I dropped back, barely avoiding his flash, which swept across the top of our bowl. 

"Gregg--Gregg, don't take such a chance!"

We lay for a moment in silence. It was horribly nerve-straining. Mikocould be creeping up on us. Would he dare chance my sudden fire?Creeping--or would he make a swift, unexpected rush?

The feeling that he was upon us abruptly swept me. I jumped to myfeet, against Anita's effort to hold me. But again Miko had vanished. Where was he now?

 * * * * *

I sank back. "That ship will be here in a few hours. "

I told her what Grantline's signal had suggested: the ship washovering overhead. It must be fairly close; for Grantline's telescopehad revealed its identity as a bandit flyer, unmarked by any of thestandard code-identification lights. It was doubtless too far away asyet to have located the whereabouts of Grantline's camp. The Martianbrigands knew that we were in the vicinity of Archimedes, but no morethan that. Searching this glowing Moon surface, our little lights, thetiny local semaphore beams we had momentarily been using, could easilypass unnoticed. 

But as the brigand ship approached now--dropping close to Archimedesas it probably would--our danger was that Miko and his men would thensignal it, join it, and reveal the camp's location, and the brigandattack would be upon us. 

I told this now to Anita. "The signal said, '_Unless you can stopthem_. '"

It was an appeal to me. But how could I respond to it? What could Ido, alone out here with Anita, to cope with this enemy?

Anita made no comment. 

I added, "That ship will land near Archimedes I imagine, within anhour or two! If Grantline can repair his portes, and I can get youinside--"

Again she made no comment. Then suddenly she gripped me. "Gregg, lookthere!"

Out through the gully break in our bowl the figure of Miko showed! Hewas running. But not at us. Circling the summit, leaping to keephimself behind the upstanding crags. He passed the head of thestaircase; he did not descend it, but headed off along the summit ofthe curving crater-rim. 

 * * * * *

I stood up to watch him. He was making off. Abandoning us!

"He's going!"

I let her stand up beside me; cautiously, at first, for it occurred tome that this might be a ruse to cover some other of Miko's men whomight be lurking up here. 

But the summit seemed clear. The figure of Miko was a thousand feetaway now. We could see the tiny blob of it bobbing over the rocks. Then it plunged down--not into the crater-valley, but out toward theopen Moon surface. 

Miko had abandoned his attack on us. The reason seemed plain. He hadcome here from his encampment with Coniston, had sent Coniston aheadto lure and kill Wilks. When this was done, Coniston had flashed hisbrief signal to Miko, who was hiding nearby. 

It was not like the brigand leader to remain in the background. Mikowas no coward. But Coniston could impersonate Wilks, whereas Miko'sgiant stature at once would reveal his identity. Miko had been engagedin smashing the portes. He had looked up and seen me kill Coniston. Hehad come up to assail me. And then he had read Grantline's signal tome. It was his first knowledge that his ship was at hand. With thecamp exits inoperative, Grantline and his men were imprisoned. Mikomade an effort to kill me. He did not know my companion was Anita. Theeffort was taking too long: with the Grantline camp imprisoned and hisship at hand, it was Miko's best move to return to his own camp, rejoin his men, and await their opportunity to signal the ship. 

At least, so I reasoned it. Anita and I stood alone. What could we do?

 * * * * *

We went to the brink of the cliff. The unlighted Grantline buildingsshowed vaguely in the Earthlight. 

I said, "We'll go down, I'll leave you there. You can wait at theporte. They'll repair it soon, perhaps, and let you in. "

"And what will you do?" she demanded. 

I was hurrying her down the stairs. But suddenly she stopped. "Whatare you going to do, Gregg?"

I had not intended to tell her. "Hurry, Anita!"

"Why?" She stood stock still. Through the visors I could see her whiteface gazing at me rebelliously. 

"Why should I hurry, Gregg?"

"Because I want to leave you at the porte. I'm going after Miko--tryand locate where he and his men are camping. "

I had indeed no specific plan as yet. But it seemed useless for me tosit at the porte waiting to be let in. 

"But he's gone, Gregg. "

She was right on that. Miko was already a mile or more away, down onthe outer surface, making off. He would soon be out of sight. It wouldbe impossible to follow him. 

"Gregg, let me go with you. "

She jerked away from me and bounded back up the staircase. I caughther on the summit. 

"Anita!"

"I'm going with you. "

"You're going to stay here. "

"I'm not!"

This exasperating controversy! And time was so precious!

"Anita, please. "

"I'll be safer with you than waiting here, Gregg. "

 * * * * *

It almost decided me. Perhaps she would. It was only my intention tofollow Miko at a distance. And with much more of this delay here, hewould be lost to me. 

And she added, "Besides, I won't stay, and you can't make me. "

We ran along the crater-top. At its distant edge the lower plainspread before us. Far down, and far away on the distant brokensurface, the leaping figure of Miko showed. 

We plunged down the broken outer slope, reached the level. Soon, as weran, the little Grantline crater faded behind us. 

Anita ran more skillfully than I. Ten minutes or so passed. We had seenMiko, and the direction he was taking, but down here on the plain wecould no longer see him. It struck me that this was purposeless--anddangerous. Suppose Miko were to see us following? Suppose he stopped andlay in ambush to fire at us as we came leaping heedlessly by?

"Anita, wait, " I said, checking her. 

I drew her down amid a group of tumbled boulders. And then abruptlyshe clung to me. 

"Gregg, I know what we can do! Gregg, don't tell me you won't let metry it!"

 * * * * *

I listened to her plan. Incredible! Incredibly dangerous! Yet, as Ipondered it, the very daring of the thing seemed the measure of itspossible success. The brigands would never imagine we could be sorash!

"But Anita--"

"Gregg, you're stupid!" It was her turn to be exasperated. In truth, Iwas indeed in no mood for daring, for my mind was obsessed withAnita's safety. I had been planning that we might see the glow ofMiko's encampment, and then return to Grantline and hope that he wouldhave the portes repaired. 

"But Gregg--the safety of the treasure--of all the Grantline men. .. . "

"To the infernal with that! It's you--your safety. "

"My safety, then! If you put me in the camp and the brigands attack itand I am killed--what then? But this plan of mine, if we can do it, Gregg . .. Safety, in the end, for all of us. "

And it seemed possible. We crouched, discussing it. So daring a thing!

The brigand ship would come down near Archimedes. That was fifty milesfrom Grantline. The brigands from Mars would not have seen the darkGrantline buildings hidden in the little crater-pit. They would waitfor Miko and his men to make their whereabouts known. 

 * * * * *

Miko's encampment was ahead of us now, undoubtedly. We had beenfollowing him toward the Mare Imbrium; we were at its borders now. Archimedes from here was also about fifty miles. 

And Anita proposed that we go to Archimedes, climb in slope and awaitthe coming of the brigand ship. Miko would be off in the Mare Imbrium. Or at least, we hoped so. He would signal his ship. But Anita and I, closer to it, would also signal it--and, posing as brigands, couldjoin it!

"Remember, Gregg, I am Anita Prince, George's sister. " Her voicetrembled as, she mentioned her dead brother. "They know that Georgewas in Miko's pay, and I am his sister. .. . It will help convincethem. "

This daring scheme! If we could join the ship, we might be able topersuade its leader that Miko's distant signals were merely a ruse ofGrantline to lure the brigands in that direction. A long-rangeprojector from the ship would kill Miko and his men as they cameforward to join it! And then we could falsely direct the brigands, lead them away from Grantline and the treasure. 

"Gregg, we must try it. "

Heaven help me, I yielded to her persuasion!

We turned at right angles and ran toward where the distant frowningwalls of Archimedes loomed against the starlit sky. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

_The Ascent of Archimedes_

The broken shaggy ramparts of the giant crater rose above us. Wetoiled upward, out of the foothills, clinging now to the crags andpitted terraces of the main ascent. An hour had passed since we turnedfrom the borders of the Mare Imbrium. Or was it two hours? I could nottell. I only know that we ran with desperate frantic haste. 

Anita would not admit that she was tired. She was more skilful than Iin this leaping over the broken rock masses. Yet I felt that herslight strength must give out. It seemed miles up the undulatingslopes of the foothills with the black and white ramparts of themassive crater close before us. 

And then the main ascent. There were places where, like smooth blackfrozen ice, the walls rose sheer. We avoided them, toiling aside, plunging into gullies, crossing pits where sometimes we perforce wentdownwards, and then up again; or sometimes we stood, hot andbreathless, upon ledges, recovering our strength, selecting the bestroute upward. 

This tumbled mass of rock! Honeycombed everywhere with caves andpassages leading into darkness impenetrable. There were pits intowhich we might so easily have fallen; ravines to span, sometimes witha leap, sometimes by a long and arduous detour. 

Endless climb! We came to a ledge, with the plains of the Mare Imbriumstretching out beneath us. We might have been upon this main ascentfor an hour; the plains were far down, the broken surface down theresmoothed now by the perspective of our height. And yet still above usthe brooding circular wall went up into the sky. Ten thousand feetstill above us--I think it was at least that, or more. 

"You're tired, Anita. We'd better stay here. "

"No! If we could only get to the top--the ship may land on the otherside--they would see us if we were at the top. "

 * * * * *

There was as yet no sign of the brigand ship. With every stop for restwe searched the starry vault. The Earth hung over us, flattened beyondthe full. The stars blazed to mingle with the Earthlight and illuminethese massive crags of the Archimedes walls. But no speck appeared totell us that the ship was up there. 

We were on the curving side of the Archimedes wall which fronted theMare Imbrium to the North. The plains lay like a great frozen sea, congealed ripples shining in the light of the Earth, with darkpatches to mark the hollows. Somewhere down there--six or eightthousand feet below us now, or even more than that, for all I couldtell--Miko's encampment lay concealed. We searched for lights of it, but could see none. 

Or had Miko rejoined his party, left his camp and come here likeourselves to climb Archimedes? Or was our assumption whollywrong--perhaps the brigand ship would not land near here at all?

Sweeping around from the Mare Imbrium, the plains were lesssmooth--the shattered, crag-littered, crater-scarred region beyondwhich the distant Apennines raised their terraced walls. The littlecrater which concealed the Grantline camp was off that way. There wasnothing to mark it from here. 

"Gregg, do you see anything up there? There seems to be a blur. "

 * * * * *

Her sight, sharper than mine, had picked it out. The descendingbrigand ship! A faintest tiny blur against the stars, a few of themocculted as though strangely an invisible shadow were upon them. Agrowing shadow, materializing into a blur--a blob, a shape faintlydefined. Then sharper until we were sure of what we saw. It was thebrigand ship. It came dropping slowly, silently down. 

We crouched on the little ledge. A cave-mouth was behind us. A gullywas beside us, a break in the ledge; and at our feet the wall droppedsheer. 

We had extinguished our little lights. We crouched, silently gazing upinto the stars. 

The ship, when first we distinguished it was central over Archimedes. We thought for a while that it might descend into the crater. But itdid not; it came sailing forward. 

I whispered into the audiphone--whispering by instinct, as though outhere in all this airless desolation someone might overhear us!

"It's coming over the crater. "

Her hand pressed my arm in answer. 

I recalled that when, from the _Planetara_, Miko had forced Snap tosignal this brigand band on Mars, Miko's only information as to thewhereabouts of the Grantline camp was that it lay between Archimedesand the Apennines. That was Grantline's first message to us, and Mikohad relayed it to his men. The brigands from Mars now were followingthat information. 

A tense interval passed. We could see the ship plainly above us now, agray-black shape among the stars up beyond the shaggy, toweringcrater-rim. The vessel came upon a level keel, hull-down, slowlycircling, looking for Miko's signal, no doubt, or for possible lightsof Grantline. They were also picking a landing place. 

 * * * * *

We saw it soon as a cylindrical, cigarlike shape, rather smaller thanthe _Planetara_, but similar of design. It bore lights now. The portsof its hull were tiny rows of illumination, and the glow of lightunder its rounding upper dome was faintly visible. 

A bandit ship, no doubt of that. Its identification keel-plate wasempty of official pass-code lights. These brigands had not attemptedto secure official sailing lights when leaving Ferrok-Shahn. It was anoutlawed ship, unmistakably. And here upon the deserted Moon there wasno need for secrecy. Its lights were openly displayed, that Miko mightsee it and join it. 

It went slowly past us, only a few thousand feet higher than ourlevel. We could see the whole outline of its pointed cylinder-hull, with the rounded dome on top. And under the dome was its opendeck-space, with a little cabin superstructure in the center. 

I thought for a moment that by some fortunate chance it might landquite near us. There was a wide ledge a quarter of a mile away. 

"Anita, look. "

But it went past. And then I saw that it was heading for a level, plateau-like surface a few miles further on. It dropped, cautiouslyfloating down. 

There was still no sign of Miko. But I realized that haste wasnecessary. We must be the first to join the brigand ship. 

I lifted Anita to her feet. "I don't think we should signal fromhere. "

"No. Miko might see it. "

We could not tell where he was. Down on the plains, perhaps? Or uphere, somewhere in these miles of towering rocks?

"Are you ready, Anita?"

"Yes, Gregg. "

 * * * * *

I stared through the visors at her white, solemn face. 

"Yes, I'm ready, " she repeated. 

Her hand-pressure seemed to me suddenly like a farewell. Were weplunging rashly into what was destined to mean our death? Was this afarewell?

An instinct swept me not to do this thing. Why, in an hour or two Icould have Anita back to the comparative safety of the Grantlinebuildings. The exit portes would doubtless be repaired by now. I couldget her inside. 

She had bounded away from me, leaped down some thirty feet into thebroken gully, to cross it and then up on the other side. I stood foran instant watching her fantastic shape, with the great rounded, goggled, trunked helmet and the lump on her shoulders which held thelittle Erentz motors. Then I made after her. 

It did not take us long--two or three miles of circling along thegiant wall. The ship lay only a few hundred feet above our level. 

We stood at last on a buttelike pinnacle. The hull-porte lights of theship were close over us. And there were moving lights up there, tinymoving spots on the adjacent rocks. The brigands had come out, prowling around to investigate their location. 

No signal yet from Miko. But it might come at any moment. 

"I'll flash now, " I whispered. 

"Yes. "

The brigands had probably not yet seen us. I took the lamp from myhelmet. My hand was trembling. Suppose my signal were answered by ashot? A flash from some giant projector mounted on the ship?

Anita crouched behind a rock, as she had promised. I stood with mytorch, and flung its switch. 

My puny light-beam shot up. I waved it, touched the ship with itsfaint glowing circle of illumination. 

They saw me. There was a sudden movement among the lights up there. 

 * * * * *

I semaphored:

"_I am from Miko. Do not fire. _"

I used the open Universal Code. In Martian first, and then in English. 

There was no answer, but no attack. I tried again. 

"_This is Haljan, once of the_ Planetara. _George Prince's sister iswith me. There has been disaster to Miko. _"

A small light-beam came down from the brink of the overhead cliffbeside the ship. 

"_We read you. _"

I went steadily on: "_Disaster--the_ Planetara _is wrecked. All killedbut me and George Prince's sister. We want to join you. _"

I flashed off my light. The answer came: "_Where is the Grantlinecamp?_"

"_Near here. The Mare Imbrium. _"

As though to answer my lie, from down on the Earthlit plains, tenmiles or so from the crater-base, a tiny signal-light shot up. Anitasaw it and gripped me. 

"There is Miko's light!"

It spelled in Martian, "_Come down. Land Mare Imbrium. _"

Miko had seen the signalling up here and was joining it! He repeated, "_Land Mare Imbrium. _"

 * * * * *

I flashed a protest up to the ship: "_Beware! That is Grantline!Trickery!_"

From the ship the summons came: "_Come up. _"

We had won this first encounter! Miko must have realized hisdisadvantage. His distant light went out. 

"Come, Anita. "

There was no retreat now. But again I seemed to feel in the pressureof her hand that vague farewell. 

Her voice whispered, "We must do our best, act our best to beconvincing. "

In the white glow of a search-beam we climbed the crags, reached thebroad upper ledge. Helmeted figures rushed at us, searched us forweapons, seized our helmet lights. The evil face of a giant Martianpeered at me through the visors. Two other monstrous, towering figuresseized Anita. 

We were shoved toward the port-locks at the base of the ship's hull. Above the hull bulge I could see the grids of projectors mounted inthe dome-side, and the figures of men standing on the deck, peeringdown at us. 

We went through the admission locks into a hull corridor, up anincline passage, and reached the lighted deck. Our helmets were takenoff. The Martian brigands crowded around us. 

CHAPTER XXIX

_On the Brigand Ship_

Anita's words echoed in my memory: "We must act our best to beconvincing. " It was not her ability that I doubted as much as my own. She had played the part of George Prince cleverly, unmasked only by anevil chance. 

I steeled myself to face the searching glances of the brigands as theyshoved around us. This was a desperate game into which we had plunged!For all our acting, how easy it would be for some small chance thingabruptly to undo us! I realized it, and now, as I gazed into thepeering faces of these men from Mars, I cursed my witless rashnesswhich had brought Anita into this!

The brigands--some ten or fifteen of them here on the deck--stood in aring around us. They were all big men, nearly of a seven-footaverage, dressed in leather jerkins and short leather breeches, withbare knees and flaring leatherboots. Piratical swaggering fellows, knife-blades mingled with small hand-projectors fastened to theirbelts. Gray, heavy faces, some with scraggling, unshaved beard. Theyplucked at us, jabbering in Martian. 

One of them seemed the leader. I said sharply, "Are you the commanderhere? I speak not Ilton[4] well. You speak the Earth English?"

[Footnote 4: Ilton, the ruling race and official language of theMartian Union. ]

"Yes, " he said readily, "I am Commander here. " He spoke English withthe same freedom and accent of Miko. "Is this George Prince's sister?"

"Yes. Her name is Anita Prince. Tell your men to take their hands offher. "

He waved his men away. They all seemed more interested in Anita thanin me. He added:

"I am Set Potan. " He addressed Anita. "George Prince's sister? You arecalled Anita? I have heard of you. I knew your brother--indeed, youlook very much like him. "

He swept his plumed hat to the grid with a swaggering gesture ofhomage. A courtierlike fellow this, debonair as a Venus cavalier!

He accepted us. I realized that Anita's presence was immenselyvaluable in making us convincing. Yet there was about this Potan--aswith Miko--a disturbing suggestion of irony. I could not make him out. I decided that we had fooled him. Then I remarked the steely glitterof his eyes as he turned to me. 

"You were an officer of the _Planetara_?"

 * * * * *

The insignia of my rank was visible on my white jacket-collar whichshowed beneath the Erentz suit, now that my helmet was off. 

"Yes, I was supposed to be. But a year ago I embarked upon thisadventure with Miko. "

He was leading us to his cabin. "The _Planetara_ wrecked? Miko dead?"

"And Hahn and Coniston. George Prince, too--we are the onlysurvivors. "

While we divested ourselves of our Erentz suits at his command, I toldhim briefly of the _Planetara's_ fall. All had been killed on boardsave Anita and me. We had escaped, awaited his coming. The treasurewas here; we had located the Grantline camp, and were ready to leadhim to it. 

Did he believe me? He listened quietly. He seemed not shocked at thedeath of his comrades. Nor yet pleased: merely imperturbable. 

I added with a sly, sidelong glance, "There were too many of us on the_Planetara_. The purser had joined us, and many of the crew. And therewas Miko's sister, the Setta Moa--too many. The treasure dividesbetter among less. "

An amused smile played on his thin gray lips. But he nodded. The fearwhich had leaped in me was allayed by his next words. 

"True enough, Haljan. He was a domineering fellow, Miko. A third of itall was for him alone. But now. .. . "

The third would go to this sub-leader, Potan! The implication wasobvious. 

I said, "Before we go any further--I can trust you for my share?"

"Of course. "

 * * * * *

I figured that my very boldness in bargaining so prematurely wouldconvince him. I insisted, "And Miss Prince? She will have herbrother's share?"

Clever Anita! She put in swiftly, "I give no information until youpromise! We know the location of the Grantline camp, its weapons, itsdefense, the amount and location of the ore. I warn you, if you do notplay us fair. .. . "

He laughed heartily. He seemed to like us. He spread his huge legs ashe lounged in his settle, and drank of the bowl which one of his menset before him. 

"Little tigress! Fear me not--I play fair!" He pushed two of the bowlsacross the table. "Drink, Haljan. All is well with us, and I am gladto hear it. Miss Prince, drink my health as your leader. "

I waved it away from Anita. "We need all our wits; your strong Martiandrinks are dangerous. Look here, I'll tell you just how the situationstands--"

I plunged into a glib account of our supposed wanderings to find theGrantline camp; its location off in the Mare Imbrium--hidden in acavern there. Potan, with the drink, and under the gaze of Anita'seyes, was in a high good humor. He laughed when I told him that we haddared to invade the Grantline camp, had smashed its exit portes, hadeven gotten up to have a look at where the ore was piled. 

"Well done, Haljan! You're a fellow to my liking!" But his gaze was onAnita. "You dress like a man, or a charming boy. "

She still wore the dark clothes of her brother. She said, "I am usedto action--man's garb pleases me. You shall treat me like a man, giveme my share of the gold-leaf. "

 * * * * *

He had already demanded of us the meaning of that signal from the MareImbrium. Miko's signal! It had not come again, though any moment Ifeared it. I told him that Grantline had doubtless repaired hisdamaged portes and sallied out to assail me in reprisal. And seeingthe brigand ship landing on Archimedes, had tried to lure it. 

I wondered if my explanation were very convincing. It did not soundso. But he was flushed now with the drink. And Anita added:

"Grantline knows the territory near his camp very well. He is equippedonly for short-range fighting. "

I took it up. "It's like this, Potan: if he could get you to landunsuspectingly near the mouth of his cavern. .. . "

I pictured how Grantline might have figured on a sudden surpriseattack upon the ship. It was his only chance to catch it unprepared. 

We were all three in friendly, intimate mood now. Potan said, "We'llland down there right enough! But I need a few hours for myassembling. "

"He will not dare advance, " I said. "For one thing, he can't leave thetreasure. "

"He knows we have unmasked his lure, " Anita put in smilingly. "Haljanand I joining you--that silenced him. His light went out verypromptly, didn't it?"

She flashed me a side-gaze. Were we acting convincingly? But if Mikostarted up his signals again, they might so quickly betray us! Anita'sthoughts were upon that, for she added:

"Grantline will not dare show his light! If he does, Set Potan, we canblast him with a ray from here! Can't we?"

"Yes, " Potan agreed. "If he comes within ten miles, I have onepowerful enough. We are assembling it now. "

"And we have thirty men?" Anita persisted. "When we sail down toattack him it should not be very difficult to kill all the Grantlineparty. Thirty of us--that's enough to share in this treasure. I'm gladMiko is dead. "

"By Heaven, Haljan, this girl of yours is small, but veryblood-thirsty!"

"That accursed Miko murdered her brother, " I explained. 

 * * * * *

Acting! And never once did we dare relax! If only Miko's signals wouldhold off and give us time!

We may have talked for half an hour. We were in a small, steel-linedcubby, located in the forward deck-space of the ship. The dome wasover it. I could see from where I sat at the table that there was aforward observatory tower under the dome quite near here. The ship waslaid out in rather similar fashion to the _Planetara_, thoughconsiderably smaller. 

Potan had dismissed his men from his cubby so as to be alone with us. Out on the deck I could see them dragging apparatus about--bringingthe mechanisms of giant projectors up from below, beginning toassemble them. Occasionally some of the men would come to our cubbywindows to peer in at us curiously. 

My mind was roaming as I talked. For all my manner of casualness, Iknew that haste was necessary. Whatever Anita and I were to do must bequickly done. But to win this fellow's utter confidence first wasnecessary, so that we might have the freedom of the ship, might moveabout unnoticed, unwatched. 

I was horribly tense inside. Through the dome windows across the deckfrom the cubby the rocks of the Lunar landscape were visible. I couldsee the brink of this ledge upon which the ship lay, the descendingcrags down the precipitous wall of Archimedes to the Earthlit plainsfar below. Miko, Moa, and a few of the _Planetara's_ crew were downthere somewhere. 

 * * * * *

Anita and I had a fairly definite plan. We were now in Potan'sconfidence. With this interview at an end, I felt that our statusamong the brigands would be established. We would be free to moveabout the ship, join in its activities. It ought to be possible tolocate the signal-room, get friendly with the operator there. 

Perhaps we would find a secret opportunity to flash a signal to Earth. This ship, I was confident, would have the power for a long-rangesignal, if not of too sustained a length. It was a desperate thing toattempt but our whole procedure was desperate! And I felt--if Anitaperhaps could cajole the guard or the duty-man from the signal-room--Imight send a single flash or two that would reach the Earth. Just adistress call, signed "Grantline. " If I could do that and not getcaught. 

Anita was engaging Potan in talking of his plans. The brigand leaderwas boasting of his well-equipped ship, the daring of his men, andquestioning her about the size of the treasure. My thoughts were freeto roam. 

A signal to Earth. And while we were making friends with thesebrigands, the longest range electronic projector was being assembled. Miko then could flash his signal and be damned to him! I would be onthe deck with that projector. Its operator, and I would turn it uponMiko--one flash of it and he and his little band would be wiped out. 

But there was our escape to be thought of. We could not remain verylong with these brigands. We could tell them that the Grantline campwas on the Mare Imbrium. It would delay them for a time, but our liewould soon be discovered. We must escape from them, get away and backto Grantline. With Miko dead--a distress signal to Earth--and Potan inignorance of Grantline's location, the treasure would be safe untilhelp arrived from Earth. 

It all fitted together so nicely! It seemed possible of success. 

Our futile plans! Star-crossed always, doomed, fated always to beupset by such unforeseen evil chances!

"By the infernal, little Anita, you look like a dove, but you're atigress! A comrade after my own heart--blood-thirsty as afire-worshipper!"

 * * * * *

Her laugh rang out to mingle with his. "Oh no, Set Potan! I amtreasure-thirsty. "

"We'll get the treasure, never fear, little Anita. "

"With you to lead us, Potan, I'm sure we will. "

A man entered the cubby. Potan looked frowningly around. "What is it, Argle?"

The fellow answered in Martian, leered at Anita and withdrew. 

Potan stood up. I noticed that he was unsteady with the drink. 

"They want me with the work at the projectors. "

"Go ahead, " I said. 

He nodded. We were comrades now. 

"Amuse yourself, Haljan. Or come out on deck if you wish. I will tellmy men you are one of us. "

"And tell them to keep their hands off Miss Prince. "

He stared at me. "I had not thought of that--a woman among so manymen. "

His own gaze at Anita was as leeringly offensive as any of his mencould have given. He said, "Have no fear, little tigress. "

Anita laughed. "I am afraid of nothing. "

But when he had lurched from the cabin she touched me. Smiled with hermannish swagger, for fear we were still observed, and murmured:

"Oh, Gregg, I am afraid!"

We stayed in the cubby a few moments, whispering--trying to plan. 

"You think the signal room is in the tower, Gregg? This tower outsideour window here?"

"Yes, I think so. "

"Shall we go out and see?"

"Yes. Keep near me always. "

"Oh, Gregg. I will!"

We deposited our Erentz suits carefully in a corner of the cubby. Wemight need them so suddenly! Then we swaggered out to join thebrigands working on the deck. 

CHAPTER XXX

_Desperate Plans_

The deck glowed lurid in the queer blue-greenish glare of Martianelectro-fuse lights. It was in a bustle of ordered activity. Sometwenty of the crew were scattered about, working in little groups. Apparatus was being brought up from below to be assembled. There was apile of Erentz suits and helmets, of Martian pattern, but still verysimilar to those with which Grantline's expedition was equipped. Therewere giant projectors of several kinds, some familiar to me, othersof a fashion I had never seen before. It seemed there were six oreight of them, still dismantled, with a litter of their attendantbatteries and coils and tube-amplifiers. They were to be mounted hereon the deck, I surmised; I saw in the dome-side one or two of themalready rolled into position at the necessary pressure portes. 

Anita and I stood outside Potan's cubby, gazing around us curiously. The men looked at us, but none of them spoke. 

"Let's watch from here a moment, " I whispered. She nodded, standingwith her hand on my arm. I felt that we were very small, here in themidst of these seven-foot Martian men. I was all in white, the costumeused in the warm interior of the Grantline camp. Bareheaded, whitesilk _Planetara_ uniform jacket, broad belt and tight-laced trousers. Anita was a slim black figure beside me, somber as Hamlet, with herpale boyish face and wavy black hair. 

The gravity being maintained here on the ship we had found to bestronger than that of the Moon--rather more like Mars. 

"There are the heat-rays, Gregg. "

 * * * * *

A pile of them was visible down the deck-length. And I saw caskets offragile glass globes, bombs of different styles; hand-projectors ofthe paralyzing ray; search-beams of several varieties; the Bensoncurve-light, and a few side-arms of ancient Earth-design--swords anddirks, and small bullet projectors. 

There seemed to be some mining equipment also. Far along the deck, beyond the central cabin in the open space of the stern, steel railswere stacked; half a dozen small-wheeled ore-carts; a tiny motorengine for hauling them--and what looked as though it might be thedismembered sections of an ore-shute. 

The whole deck was presently strewn with this mass of equipment. 

Potan moved about, directing the different groups of workers. Thenews had spread that we knew the location of the treasure. Thebrigands were jubilant. In a few hours the ship's armament would beready, and it would advance to attack Grantline. 

I saw many glances being cast out the dome side-windows toward thedistant, far-down plains of the Mare Imbrium. The brigands believedthat the Grantline camp lay in that direction. 

Anita whispered, "Which is their giant electronic projector, Gregg?"

I could see it amidships of the deck. It was already in place. Potanwas there now, superintending the men who were connecting it. The mostpowerful weapon on the ship, it had, Potan said, an effective range ofsome ten miles. I wondered what it would do to a Grantline building!The Erentz double walls would withstand it for a time, I was sure. Butit would blast an Erentz fabric-suit, no doubt of that. Like alightning bolt, it would kill--its flashing free-stream of electronsshocking the heart, bringing instant death. 

I whispered, "We must smash that before we leave! But first turn it onMiko, if he signals now. "

 * * * * *

I was tensely watchful for that signal. The electronic projectorobviously was not yet ready. But when it was connected, I must be nearit, to persuade its duty-man to fire it on Miko. With this done wewould have more time to plan our other tasks. I did not think Potanwould be ready for his attack before another time of sleep here in theship's routine. Things would be quieter then--I would watch my chanceto send a signal to Earth, and then we would escape. 

With my thoughts roving, we had been standing quietly at the cubbydoor-oval for perhaps fifteen minutes. My hand in my side pouchclutched the little bullet projector. The brigands had taken it fromme and given it to Potan. He had placed it on the settle with myErentz suit; and when we gained his confidence he had forgotten itand left it there. I had it now, and the feel of its cool sleek handlegave me a measure of comfort. Things could go wrong so easily--but ifthey did, I was determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. Anda vague thought was in my mind: I must not use the last bullet. Thatwould be for Anita. 

I shook myself free from such sinister fancy. 

"That electronic projector is remote-controlled. Look, Anita--that'sthe signal room over us. The giant projector will be aimed and firedfrom up there. "

It seemed so. A thirty-foot skeleton tower stood on the deck near us, with a spiral ladder leading up to a small square steel cubby at thetop. Through the cubby window-ovals I could see instrument panels. Asingle Martian was up there; he had called down to Potan concerningthe electronic projector. 

 * * * * *

The roof of this little tower room was close under the dome--a spaceof no more than four feet. A pressure lock-exit in the dome was upthere, with a few steps leading up to it from the roof of the towersignal-room. We could escape that way, perhaps. In the event of direnecessity it might be possible. But only as a desperate resort, for itwould put us on the top of the glassite dome, with a sheer hundredfeet or more down its sleek bulging exterior side, and down theoutside bulge of the ship's hull, to the rocks below. There might be aspider ladder outside leading downward, but I saw no evidence of it. If Anita and I were forced to escape that way, I wondered how we couldmanage a hundred foot jump to the rocks and land safely. Even with theslight gravity of the Moon it would be a dangerous fall. 

"You are Gregg Haljan?"

I started as one of the brigands, coming up behind us, addressed me. 

"Yes. "

"Commander Potan tells me you were chief navigator of the_Planetara_?"

"Yes. "

"You shall pilot us when we advance upon the Grantline camp. I amcontrol-commander here--Brotow, my name. "

He smiled. A giant fellow, but spindly. He spoke good English. Heseemed anxious to be friendly. 

"We are glad to have you and George Prince's sister with us. " He shotAnita an admiring glance. "I will show you our controls, Haljan. "

"All right, " I said. "Whatever I can do to help. .. . "

"But not now. It will be some hours before we are ready. "

I nodded, and he wandered away. Anita whispered:

"Did he mean that signal room up here in the tower? Oh, Gregg, maybeit's only the ship's control room!"

"I don't know. But the projector range-finders are up there, and Ithink it's the signal room. "

"Suppose we go up and see? Gregg, Miko's signals might start anyminute. "

 * * * * *

And the electronic projector now seemed about ready. It was time forme to act. But a reluctant instinct was upon me. Our Erentz suits werehere close behind us in Potan's cubby. I hated to leave them: ifanything happened and we had to make a sudden dash, there would be notime to garb ourselves in the suits. To adjust the helmets was badenough. 

I whispered swiftly, "We must get into our suits--find some pretext. "I drew her back through the cubby doorway where we would be moresecluded. 

"Anita, listen: I've been a fool not to plan our escape morecarefully! We're in too great a danger here. "

It seemed to me suddenly that we were in desperate plight. Was itpremonition?

"Anita, listen: if anything happens and we have to make a dash--"

"Up through that dome-lock, Gregg? It's a manual control; you can seethe levers. "

"Yes. It's a manual. But up there--how would we get down?"

She was far calmer than I. "There may be an outside ladder, Gregg. "

"I don't think so. I haven't seen it. "

"Then we can get out the way they brought us in. The hull-porte--it'sa manual, too. "

"Yes, I think I can find our way down through the hull corridors. Imean, for a quick run. If we have to run, you stay close behind me. I've this bullet projector, and evidently there aren't many men in thelower corridors. "

"There are guards outside on the rocks. "

We had seen them through the dome windows. But there were notmany--only two or three. A surprise rush at them would turn the trick. 

 * * * * *

We donned our Erentz suits. 

"What will we do with the helmets?" Anita demanded. "Leave them here?"

"No--take them with us. I'm not going to get separated from them; it'stoo dangerous. "

"We'll look strange going up to that signal room equipped like this, "she commented. 

"I can't help it. We'll figure out something to explain it. "

She stood before me, a queer-looking little figure in the nowdeflated, bagging suit with her slim neck and head protruding abovethe metal circle of its collar. 

"Carry your helmet, Anita. I'll take mine. "

We could adjust the helmets and start the Erentz motors all within afew seconds. 

"I'm ready, Gregg. "

"Come on, then. Let me go first. "

I had the bullet projector in an outer pouch of the suit where I couldinstantly reach it. This was more rational: we had a fighting chancenow. The fear which had swept me so suddenly began to recede. I wascalm. 

"We'll climb the tower to the signal room, " I whispered. "Do itboldly. "

We stepped from the cubby. Potan was not in sight; he was on thefurther deck beyond the central cabin structure perhaps, or had gonebelow. 

On the deck, we were immediately accosted. This was different--ourappearance in the Erentz suits!

"Where are you going?"

This fellow spoke in Martian. I answered in English. 

"Up there. "

 * * * * *

He stood before us, towering over me. I saw a group of nearby workersstop to regard us. In a moment we would be causing a commotion, and itwas the last thing I desired. 

I said in Martian, "Commander Potan told me, what I wish I can do. From the dome we look around--see where is the Grantline camp--I ampilot of this ship to go there. "

The man who had called himself Brotow passed near us. I appealed tohim. 

"We put on our suits. I thought we might go up on the dome for aminute and look around. If I'm to pilot the ship. .. . "

He hesitated, his glance sweeping the deck as though to ask Potan. Someone said in Martian:

"The commander is down in the stern storeroom. "

It decided Brotow. He waved away the Martian who had stopped me. 

"Let them alone. "

Anita and I gave him our most friendly smiles. 

"Thanks. "

He bowed to Anita with a sweeping gesture. "I will show you over thecontrol room presently. "

His gaze went to the peak of the bow. The little hooded cubby therewas the control room. Satisfaction swept me. Then this, above us inthe tower, must surely be the signal room. Would Brotow follow us up?I hoped not. I wanted to be alone with the duty-man up there, givingme a chance to get at the projector controls if Miko's signal shouldcome. 

I drew Anita past Brotow, who had stood aside. "Thanks, " I repeated. "We won't be long. "

We mounted the little ladder. 

CHAPTER XXXI

_In the Tower Cubby_

"Hurry, Anita!"

I feared that Potan might come up from the hull at any moment and stopus. The duty-man over us gazed down, his huge head and shouldersblocking the small signal room window. Brotow called up in Martian, telling him to let us come. He scowled, but when we reached the trapin the room floor-grid, we found him standing aside to admit us. 

I flung a swift glance around. It was a metallic cubby, not much overfifteen feet square, with an eight-foot arched ceiling. There wereinstrument panels. The range-finder for the giant projector was here;its little telescope with the trajectory apparatus and the firingswitch were unmistakable. And the signalling apparatus was here! Not aMartian set, but a fully powerful Botz ultra-violet helio sender withits attendant receiving mirrors. The _Planetara_ had used the Botzsystem, so I was thoroughly familiar with it. I saw, too, what seemedto be weapons: a row of small fragile glass globes, hanging on clipsalong the wall--bombs, each the size of a man's fist. And a broad beltwith bombs in its padded compartments. 

My heart was pounding as my first quick glance took in these details. I saw also that the room had four small oval window openings. Theywere breast-high above the floor; from the deck below I knew that theangle of vision was such that the men down there could not see intothis room except to glimpse its upper portion near the ceiling. Andthe helio set was banked on a low table near the floor. 

In a corner of the room a small ladder led through a ceiling trap tothe cubby roof. This upper trap was open. Four feet above theroom-roof was the arch of the dome, with the entrance to the upperexit-lock directly above us. The weapons and the belt of bombs werenear this ascending ladder, evidently placed here as equipment for usefrom the top of the dome. 

 * * * * *

I turned to the solitary duty-man. I must gain his confidence at once. Anita had laid her helmet aside. She spoke first. 

"We were with Set Miko, " she said smilingly, "in the wreck of the_Planetara_. You heard of it? We know where the treasure is. "

This duty-man was a full seven feet tall, and the most heavy-setMartian I had ever seen. A tremendous, beetling-browed, scowlingfellow. He stood with hands on his hips, his leather-garbed legsspread wide; and as I fronted him I felt like a child. He was silent, glaring down at me as I drew his attention from Anita. 

"You speak English? We are not skilled with Martian. "

I wondered if at the next time of sleep this fellow would be on dutyhere. I hoped not; it would not be easy to trick him and find anopportunity to flash a signal. But that task was some hours away asyet; I would worry about it when the time came. Just now I wasconcerned with Miko and his little band, who at any moment mightarrive in sight. If we could persuade this scowling duty-man to turnthe projector on them. .. . 

He answered me in ready English:

"You are the man Gregg Haljan? And this is the sister of GeorgePrince--what do you want up here?"

"I am a navigator. Brotow wants me to pilot the ship when we advanceto attack Grantline. "

"This is not the control room. "

"No, I know it isn't. "

I put my helmet carefully on the floor-grid beside Anita's. Istraightened to find the brigand gazing at her. He did not speak; hewas still scowling. But in the dim blue glow of the cubby I caught thelook in his eyes. 

 * * * * *

I said hastily, "Grantline knows your ship has landed here onArchimedes. His camp is off there on the Mare Imbrium. He sent up asignal--you saw it, didn't you?--just before Miss Prince and I cameaboard. He was trying to pretend that he was your Earth-party, Mikoand Coniston. "

"Why?"

The fellow turned his scowl on me, but Anita brought his gaze back toher. She put in quickly:

"Grantline, as Brother always said, has no great cunning. I believehe's planning now to creep up on us, catch us unaware by pretendingthat he is Miko. "

"If he does that, " I said, "we will turn this electronic projector onhim and annihilate him. You have its firing mechanism here. "

"Who told you so?" he shot at me. 

I gestured. "I see it here. It's obvious. I'm skilled attrajectory-firing. If Grantline appears down there now, I'll helpyou--"

"Is it connected?" Anita demanded boldly. 

"Yes, " he said. "You have on your Erentz suits: are you going to thedome-roof? Then go. "

But that was what we did not want to do. Anita's glance seemed to tellme to let her handle this. I turned toward one of the cubby windows;she said sweetly:

"Are you in charge of this room? Show me how that projector isoperated; it will be invincible against the Grantline camp. "

"Yes. "

 * * * * *

I had my back to them for a moment. Through the breast-high oval Icould see down across the deck-space and out through the side domewindows. And my heart suddenly leaped into my throat. It seemed thatdown there in the Earthlit shadows, where the spreading base of thegiant crater joined the plains, a light was bobbing. I gazed, stricken. Miko's lights? Was he advancing, preparing to signal? Itried to gauge the distance; it was not over two miles from here. 

Or was it not a light at all? With the naked eye, I could not be sure. Perhaps there was a telescopic finder here in the cubby. .. . 

I was subconsciously aware of the voices of Anita and the duty-manbehind me. Then abruptly I heard Anita's low cry. I whirled around. 

The giant Martian had gathered her into his huge arms, hisheavy-jowled gray face with a leering grin close to hers!

He saw me coming. He held her with one arm: his other flung at me, caught me, knocked me backward. He rasped:

"Get out of here! Go up to the dome, leave us. "

Anita was silently struggling with her little hands at his thickthroat. His blow flung me against a settle. But I held my feet. I waspartly behind him. I leaped again, and as he tried to disengagehimself from Anita to front me, her clutching fingers impeded him. 

My bullet projector was in my hand. But in that second as I leaped, Ihad the sense to realize I should not fire it and with its noise alarmthe ship. I grasped its barrel, reached upward and struck with itsheavy metal butt. The blow caught the Martian on the skull, andsimultaneously my body struck him. 

We went down together, falling partly upon Anita. But the giant hadnot cried out, and as I gripped him now, I felt his body limp. I laypanting. Anita squirmed silently from under us. Blood from the giant'shead was welling out, hot and sticky against my face as I lay sprawledon him. 

 * * * * *

I cast him off. He was dead, his fragile Martian skull split open bymy blow. 

There had been no alarm. The slight noise we made had not been hearddown on the busy deck. Anita and I crouched by the floor. From thedeck all this part of the room could not be seen. 

"Dead!"

"Oh, Gregg--"

It forced our hand. I could not wait now for Miko to come. But I couldflash the Earth signal now, and then we would have to make our run toescape. 

Abruptly I remembered that light down at the crater-base! I kept Anitaout of sight on the floor and went cautiously to a window. The deckwas in turmoil with brigands moving about excitedly. Not because ofwhat had happened in our tower signal room; they were unaware of that. 

Miko's signals were showing! I could see them now plainly, down at thecrater-base. A group of hand-lights and a small waving helio-beam. 

And they were being answered from the ship! Potan was on the deck--ababble of voices, above which his rose with roars of command. At oneof the dome windows a brigand with a hand search-beam was sending itsanswering light. And I saw that Potan was working over a decktelescope-finder. 

It had all come so suddenly that I was stunned. But I did not wait toread the signals. I swung back at Anita. 

"It's Miko! And they are answering him! Get your helmet; I'll tryfiring the projector. "

Or would I instead try to send a brief flash-signal to Earth? Therewould be no time to do both: we must escape out of here. The route upthrough the dome was the only feasible one now. 

This range mechanism of the projector was reasonably familiar, and Ifelt that I could operate it. The range-finder and switch were on aledge at one of the windows. I rushed to it. As I swung the littletelescope, training it down on Miko's lights, I could see the hugeprojector on the deck swinging similarly. Its movement surprised themen who were attending it. One of them called up to me, but I ignoredhim. 

 * * * * *

Then Potan looked up and saw me. He shouted in Martian at theduty-man, whom he doubtless thought was behind me: "Be ready! We mayfire on them, whoever they are. I'll give you the word. "

The signals were proceeding. It had only been a moment. I caughtsomething like, "_Haljan is impostor. _"

I was aiming the projector. I was aware of Anita at my elbow. I pushedher back. 

"Put on your helmet!"

I had the range. I flung the firing switch. 

At the deck window the giant projector spat its deadly electronicstream. The men down there leaped away from it with surprise. I heardPotan's voice, his shout of protest and anger. 

But down in the Earthglow at the crater-base, Miko's lights had notvanished! I had missed! An error in the range? Abruptly I knew it wasnot that. Miko's lights were still there. His signals still coming. And I remarked now a faint distortion about them, the glow of hislittle group of hand-lights faintly distorted and vaguely shot with agreenish cast. Benson curve-lights! I realized it. 

My thoughts whirled in the few seconds while I stood there at thetower window. Miko had feared he might summarily be fired upon. He hadgone back to his camp, equipped all his lights with the Benson curve. He was somewhere at the crater-base now. But not where I thought I sawhim! The Benson curve-light changed the path of the light-raystraveling from him to me--I could not even approximate his trueposition!

Anita was plucking at me. "Gregg, come. "

"I can't hit him!" I gasped. 

Should I try the flash-signal to Earth? Did we dare linger here? Istood another few seconds fascinated at the window. I saw Potan downin the confusion of the deck, training a telescope. He had shouted upviolently at his duty-man here not to fire again. 

And now he suddenly let out a roar. "I can see them! It's Miko! By theAlmighty--his giant stature--Brotow, look! That's not an Earthman!"

He flung aside his little telescope finder. "Disconnect thatprojector! It's Miko down there! This Haljan is a trickster! Where ishe? Braile--Braile, you accursed fool! Are Haljan and the girl upthere with you?"

But the duty-man lay weltering in his blood at our feet. 

I had dropped back from the window. Anita and I crouched for aninstant in confusion, fumbling with our helmets. 

The ship rang with the alarm. And amid the turmoil we could hear theshouts of the infuriated brigands swarming up the tower ladder afterus!

CHAPTER XXXII

_A Speck Amid the Stars_

I was only inactive a moment. I had thought Anita would have on herhelmet. But she was reluctant, or confused. 

"Gregg. "

"We've got to get out of here! Up through the overhead locks to thedome. "

"Yes--" She fumbled with the helmet. Under the floor-grid the climbingmen on the ladder were audible. They were already nearing the top. Thetrap door was closed: Anita and I were crouching on it. There was athick metal bar set in a depressed groove of the grid. I slid it inplace--it would seal the trap for a time, at any rate. 

A degree of confidence came to me. We had a few moments before therecould be any hand-to-hand conflict. That giant electronic projectorwould eventually be used against Grantline: it was the brigands' mostpowerful weapon. Its controls were here--by Heaven, I would smashthem! That at least I could do!

I jumped for the window. Miko's signals had stopped, but I caught aglimpse of his distant moving curve-lights. 

A flash came up at me, as in the window I became visible to thebrigands on the ship's deck. It was a small hand-projector, hastilyfired, for it went wide of the window. It was followed by a rain ofsmall beams, but I was warned and I dropped my head beneath the highsill. The rays flashed diagonally upward through the oval opening, hissed against our vaulted roof. The air snapped and tingled with ashower of blue-red sparks, and the acrid odor of the released gasessettled down upon me. 

 * * * * *

The trajectory controls of the projector were beside me. I seizedthem, ripped and tore at them. There was a roar down on the deck. Theprojector had exploded. A man's agonized scream split the confusion ofsounds. 

It silenced the brigands on the deck. Under our floor-grid those onthe ladder had been pounding at the trap-door. They stopped, evidentlyto see what had happened. The bombardment of our windows ceasedmomentarily. 

I cautiously peered out the window again. In the wreck of theprojector three men were lying. One of them was screaming horribly. The dome-side was damaged. Potan and other men were franticallyinvestigating to see if the ship's air were hissing out. 

A triumph swept me. They had not found me so meek and inoffensive asthey might have thought!

Anita clutched at me. She still had not donned her helmet. 

"Put it on!"

"But Gregg--"

"Put it on!"

"I--I don't want to put it on until you put yours on. "

"I've smashed the projector! We've stopped them coming up for awhile. "

But they were still on the ladder under our floor. They heard ourvoices; they began thumping again. Then pounding. They seemed now tohave some heavy implement. They rammed with it against the trap. 

But the floor seemed holding. The square of metal grid trembled, yielded a little. But it was good for a few minutes longer. 

I called down, "The first one who comes through will be shot. " Mywords mingled with their oaths. There was a moment's pause, then theramming went on. The dying man on the deck was still screaming. 

 * * * * *

I whispered, "I'll try an Earth-signal. "

She nodded. Pale, tense, but calm. "Yes, Gregg. And I was thinking--"

"It won't take a minute. Have your helmet ready. "

"I was thinking--"

She hurried across the room. I swung on the Botz signaling apparatus. It was connected. Within a moment I had it humming. The fluorescenttubes lighted with their lurid glare; they painted purple the body ofthe giant duty-man who lay sprawled at my feet. I drew on all theship's power. The tube-lights in the room quivered and went dim. 

I would have to hurry. Potan could shut this off from the main hullcontrol room. I could see, through the room's upper trap, the primarysending mirror mounted in the peak of the dome. It was quivering, radiant with its light-energy. I sent the flash. 

The flattened, past-full Earth was up there. I knew that the westernhemisphere faced the Moon at this hour. I flashed in English, with theopen Universal Earth-code:

"_Help! Grantline. _"

And again: "_Send help! Archimedes region near Apennines. Attacked bybrigands. Send help at once! Grantline!_"

If only it would be received! I flung off the current. Anita stoodwatching me intently. "Gregg, look!"

She had taken some of the glass globe-bombs which lay by the foot ofthe ascending ladder. She held some of them now. 

"Gregg. I threw some. "

 * * * * *

At the window we gazed down. The globes she flung had shattered on thedeck. They were occulting darkness bombs. [5]

[Footnote 5: Filled with an odorless, harmless gas, these bombs wereused in warfare, taking the place of the old-fashioned smoke screens. The diffusing gas was of such a nature that, when released, itabsorbed within itself all the color inherent to the light-raysstriking it, thus creating a temporary darkness. ]

Through the blackness of the deck, the shouts of the brigands came up. They were stumbling about. But the ramming of our trap went on, and Isaw that it was beginning to yield. One corner of it was bent up. 

"We've got to go, Anita!"

"Yes. "

From out of the darkness which hung like a shroud over the deck anoccasional flash came up, unaimed--wide of our windows. But thedarkness was dissipating. I could see now the dim glow of the decklights, blurred as through a heavy fog. 

I dropped another of the bombs. 

"Put on your helmet. "

"Yes--yes, I will. You put on yours. "

We had them adjusted in a moment. Our Erentz motors were pumping. 

I gripped her. "Put out your helmet-light. "

She extinguished it. I handed her my bullet projector. 

"Hold it a moment. I'm going to take that belt of bombs. "

The trap-door was all but broken under the ramming blows of the men onthe ladder. I leaped over the body of the duty-man, seized the belt ofbombs and strapped it about my waist. 

Anita stood with me. 

"Give me the projector. "

She handed it to me. The trap-door burst upward! A man's head andshoulders appeared. I fired a bullet into him--the little leadenpellet singing down through the yellow powder-flash that spat from theprojector's muzzle. 

 * * * * *

The brigand screamed, and dropped back out of sight. There wasconfusion at the ladder-top. I flung a bomb at the broken trap. A tinyheat-ray came wavering up through the opening, but went wide of us. 

The instrument room was in darkness. I clung to Anita. 

"Hold on to me! You go first--here is the ladder. "

We found it in the blackness, mounted it and went through the cubby'sroof-trap. 

I took a hasty look and dropped another bomb beside us. The four-footspace up here between the cubby roof and the overhead dome went black. We were momentarily concealed. 

Anita located the manual levers of the lock-entrance. 

"Here, Gregg. "

I shoved at them. Fear leaped in me that they would not operate. Butthey swung. The tiny porte opened wide to receive us. We clamberedinto the small air-chamber; the door slid closed, just as a flash frombelow struck at it. The brigands had seen our little cloud of darknessand were firing up through it. 

We were through the locks in a moment, out on the open dome-top. A sleek, rounded spread of glassite, with broad aluminite girders. There werecross-ribs which gave us footing, and occasional projections--streamlinefin-tips, the casings of the upper rudder shafts, and the upstandingstubby funnels into which the helicopters were folded. 

We moved along the central footpath and crouched by a six-foot casing. The stars and the glowing Earth were over us. The curving dome-top--ahundred feet or so in length, and bulging thirty feet wide beneathus--glistened in the Earthlight. It was a sheer drop down thesecurving sides past the ship's hull, a hundred feet to the rocks onwhich the vessel rested. The towering wall of Archimedes was besideus; and beyond the brink of the ledge the thousands of feet down tothe plains. 

 * * * * *

I saw the lights of Miko's band down there. He had stopped signaling. His little lights were spread out, bobbing as he and his men advancedup the crater's foothills, coming to join their ship. 

I had an instant's glimpse. Anita and I could not stay here. Thebrigands would follow us up in a moment. I saw no exterior ladder. Wewould have to take our chances and jump. 

There were brigands down there on the rocks. I saw three or fourskulking helmeted figures, and they saw us! A bullet whizzed by us, and then came the flash of a hand-ray. 

I touched Anita. "Can you make the leap? Anita, dear. .. . "

Again it seemed that this must be farewell. 

"Gregg, dear one--oh, we've got to do it!"

Those waiting figures would pounce on us. 

"Anita, lie here a moment. "

I jumped up and ran twenty feet toward the bow; then back, toward thestern, flinging down the last of my bombs. The darkness was like acloud down there, enveloping the outer brigands. But up here we wereabove it, etched by the starlight and Earthglow. 

I came back to Anita. 

"We'll have to chance it now. "

"Gregg. .. . "

"Good-by, dear. I'll jump first, down this side--you follow. "

To leap into that black patch, with the rocks under it. .. . 

"Gregg--"

She was trying to tell me to look overhead. She gestured. "Gregg, see!"

I saw it out over the plains--a little speck amid the stars. A movingspeck, coming toward us!

"Gregg, what is it?"

 * * * * *

I gazed, held my breath. A moving speck out there. A blob now. 

And then I realized that it was not a large object, far away, butsmall, and already very close--only a few hundred feet off, droppingtoward the top of our dome. A narrow, flat, ten-foot object, like awingless volplane. There were no lights on it, but in the Earthlight Icould see two crouching, helmeted figures riding it. 

"Anita! Don't you remember!"

I was swept with dawning comprehension. Back in the Grantline campSnap and I had discussed how to use the _Planetara's_ gravity plates. We had gone to the wreck and secured them, had rigged this littlevolplane flyer. .. . 

The brigands on the rocks saw it now. A flash went up at it. One ofthe figures crouching on it opened a flexible fabric like a wing overits side. I saw another flash from below, harmlessly striking theinsulated shield. 

I gasped to Anita, "Light your helmet! It's from Grantline! Let themsee us!"

I stood erect. The little flying platform went over us, fifty feet up, circling, dropping to the dome-top. 

I waved my helmet-light. The exit-lock from below--up which we hadcome--was near us. The advancing brigands were already in it! I hadforgotten to demolish the manuals. And I saw that the darkness down onthe rocks was almost gone now, dissipating in the airless night. Thebrigands down there began firing up at us. 

It was a confusion of flashing lights. I clutched at Anita. 

"Come this way--run!"

The platform barely missed our heads. It sailed lengthwise of thedome-top, and crashed silently on the central runway near thestern-tip. Anita and I ran to it. 

The two helmeted figures seized us, shoved us prone on the metalplatform. It was barely four feet wide: a low railing, handles withwhich to cling, and a tiny hooded cubby in front, with banks ofcontrols. 

"Gregg!"

"Snap!"

It was Snap and Venza. She seized Anita, held her crouching in place. Snap flung himself face down at the controls. 

The brigands in the lock were out on the dome now. I took a last shotas we lifted. My bullet punctured one of them; he fell, slidscrambling off the rounded dome and dropped out of sight. 

Light-rays and silent flashes seemed to envelop us. Venra held theside-shields higher. 

We tilted, swayed crazily, and then steadied. 

The ship's dome dropped away beneath us. The rocks of the open ledgewere under us. Then the abyss, with the moving climbing specks ofMiko's lights far down. 

I saw, over the side-shield, the already distant brigand ship restingon the ledge with the massive Archimedes' wall behind it. A confusionback there of futile flashing rays. 

It all faded into a remote glow as we sailed smoothly up into thestarlight and away, heading for the Grantline camp. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

_Besieged!_

"Wake up, Gregg! They're coming!"

I forced myself to consciousness. "Coming--"

"Yes. Wake up!"

I leaped from my bunk, followed Snap with a rush into the corridor. Wehad returned safely to the Grantline Camp. Anita and I found ourselvesexhausted from lack of sleep, our arduous climb of Archimedes and thattense time on the brigand ship. On the flight back Snap had explainedhow the landing of the ship on Archimedes was observed through theGrantline telescope, using but little of its power for this localrange. They had read with amazement my signals to the brigands. Snaphad rushed to completion the first of our contemplated flyingplatforms. Then he had seen Miko's signals from the crater-base, seenthe lights of the fight to capture Anita and me in the cubby, and hadcome to rescue us. 

Back at the camp we were given food, and Grantline forced me to tryand sleep. 

"They'll be on us in a few hours, Gregg. Miko will have joined them bynow. He'll lead them to us. You must rest, for we need everyone at hisbest. "

And surprisingly, in the midst of the camp's turmoil of last minuteactivities, I slept soundly, until Snap called me that the ship wascoming. 

The corridor echoed with the tramp of Grantline's busy crew. But therewas no confusion now; a grim calmness had settled upon everyone. 

Anita and Venra rushed up to join us. "It's in sight!"

 * * * * *

There was no need of going to the instrument room. From the windowsfronting the brink of the cliff the brigand ship was plainly visible. It came sailing from Archimedes, a dark shape blurring the stars. Allits lights were extinguished save a single white search-beam in thebow-peak, slanting diagonally down. 

The beam presently caught our little group of buildings; its glareshone in the windows as it clung for a moment. I could envisage thetriumphant curiosity, of Potan and his fellows up there, gazing alongthe beam. 

Then it swung away. The ship was at an altitude of no more than threethousand feet when I first saw it, coming upon a level keel. Would itcircle over us, firing at us? Or sail past, after inspecting us? Orland, perhaps, boldly crowded upon our little ledge?

We were ready--as ready as we could be with our meager equipment. Thecamp was in a state of siege. The cliff-lights were extinguished: theinterior lights were dim, save in the workshops of the main building, where the final assembling of Snap's other flying platforms and theirinsulated protective shields was still in progress. 

We had dimmed the lights to conserve our power, and to enable theErentz motors to run at full capacity. Our buildings would have towithstand the brigand rays which soon would be upon us. 

Outside on our dim, Earthlit cliff, the tiny lights showed where ourfew guards were lurking. As I stood at the window watching theoncoming ship, Grantline's voice sounded:

"Call in those men! Ring the call-lights, Franck!"

The siren buzzed over the camp's interior; the warning call-lights onthe roof brought in the outer guards. They came running to theadmission portes, which had been repaired after Miko disabled them. 

 * * * * *

The guards came in. We dimmed our lights further. The treasure shedswere black against the cliff behind us. No need for guards there--thebulk of the ore was such that we reasoned the brigands would notattempt to move it until our buildings were captured. But, if theyshould try it, we were prepared to sally out with our hand-weapons anddefend it. 

In the dim lights we crouched. A silence was upon us, save for theclanging in the workshop down the corridor. Most of us wore our Erentzsuits, with helmets ready, though I am sure there was not a man of usbut who prayed he might not have to go out. At many of thewindows--our weakest points to withstand the rays--insulated fabricshields were hung like curtains. 

The brigand ship slowly advanced. It was soon over the opposite rim ofour little crater. Its search-beam swung about the rim and down intothe valley. 

My thoughts ran like a turgid stream as I stood tensely watching. 

Four hours ago I had sent that flash-signal to Earth. If it werereceived, a patrol-ship could come to our rescue and arrive here inanother eight hours--or perhaps even less. 

Ah, that "if!" _If_ the signal were received! _If_ the patrol-shipwere immediately available! _If_ it started at once. .. . 

Eight hours at the very least. I tried to assure myself that we couldhold out that long. .. . 

The brigand ship crossed the opposite crater-rim. It dropped lower. Itseemed poised over the crater-valley, almost at our own level and lessthan two miles from us. Its search-beam vanished. For a moment ithung, a sleek, cylindrical silver shape, gleaming in the Earthlight. 

Snap looked at me and murmured, "It's descending. "

It slowly settled, cautiously picked its landing-place amid the cragsand pits of the tumbled scarred valley floor. It came to rest, a vaguesilver menacing shape lurking in the lower shadows, close at the footof the inner opposite crater-wall. 

A few moments of tense waiting passed. Soon tiny lights were movingdown there, some out on the rocks near the ship, others up under itsdeck-dome. 

A stab of searchlight shot across the valley, swung along our ledgeand clung with its glaring ten-foot circle to the front of our mainbuilding. Then a ray flashed. 

The assault had begun!

(_To be concluded_)

[Advertisement:]

The Jovian Jest

_By Lilith Lorraine_

[Illustration: _The object shot forth another tentacle. _]

[Sidenote: There came to our pigmy planet a radiant wanderer with amessage--and a jest--from the vasty universe. ]

Consternation reigned in Elsnore village when the Nameless Thing wasdiscovered in Farmer Burns' corn-patch. When the rumor began to gaincredence that it was some sort of meteor from inter-stellar space, reporters, scientists and college professors flocked to the scene, desirous of prying off particles for analysis. But they soondiscovered that the Thing was no ordinary meteor, for it glowed atnight with a peculiar luminescence. They also observed that it waspractically weightless, since it had embedded itself in the soft sandscarcely more than a few inches. 

By the time the first group of newspapermen and scientists had reachedthe farm, another phenomenon was plainly observable. The Thing wasgrowing!

Farmer Burns, with an eye to profit, had already built a picket fencearound his starry visitor and was charging admission. He also flatlyrefused to permit the chipping off of specimens or even the touchingof the object. His attitude was severely criticized, but he stubbornlyclung to the theory that possession is nine points in law. 

 * * * * *

It was Professor Ralston of Princewell who, on the third day after thefall of the meteor, remarked upon its growth. His colleagues crowdedaround him as he pointed out this peculiarity, and soon theydiscovered another factor--pulsation!

Larger than a small balloon, and gradually, almost imperceptiblyexpanding, with its viscid transparency shot through with opalescentlights, the Thing lay there in the deepening twilight and palpablyshivered. As darkness descended, a sort of hellish radiance began toooze from it. I say hellish, because there is no other word todescribe that spectral, sulphurous emanation. 

As the hangers-on around the pickets shudderingly shrank away from theweird light that was streaming out to them and tinting their faceswith a ghastly, greenish pallor, Farmer Burns' small boy, moved bysome imp of perversity, did a characteristically childish thing. Hepicked up a good-sized stone and flung it straight at the namelessmass!

 * * * * *

Instead of veering off and falling to the ground as from an impactwith metal, the stone sank right through the surface of the Thing asinto a pool of protoplastic slime. When it reached the central core ofthe object, a more abundant life suddenly leaped and pulsed fromcenter to circumference. Visible waves of sentient color circled roundthe solid stone. Stabbing swords of light leaped forth from them, piercing the stone, crumbling it, absorbing it. When it was gone, onlya red spot, like a bloodshot eye, throbbed eerily where it had been. 

Before the now thoroughly mystified crowd had time to remark upon thisinexplicable disintegration, a more horrible manifestation occurred. The Thing, as though thoroughly awakened and vitalized by its unusualfare, was putting forth a tentacle. Right from the top of theshivering globe it pushed, sluggishly weaving and prescient of doom. Wavering, it hung for a moment, turning, twisting, groping. Finally itshot straight outward swift as a rattler's strike!

Before the closely packed crowd could give room for escape, it hadcircled the neck of the nearest bystander, Bill Jones, a cattleman, and jerked him, writhing and screaming, into the reddish core. Stupefied with soul-chilling terror, with their mass-consciousnesspractically annihilated before a deed with which their minds couldmake no association, the crowd could only gasp in sobbing unison andawait the outcome. 

 * * * * *

The absorption of the stone had taught them what to expect, and for amoment it seemed that their worst anticipations were to be realised. Thesluggish currents circled through the Thing, swirling the victim's body tothe center. The giant tentacle drew back into the globe and became itselfa current. The concentric circles merged--tightened--became one gleamingcord that encircled the helpless prey. From the inner circumference ofthis cord shot forth, not the swords of light that had powdered the stoneto atoms, but myriads of radiant tentacles that gripped and cupped thebody in a thousand places. 

Suddenly the tentacles withdrew themselves, all save the ones thatgrasped the head. These seemed to tighten their pressure--to swell andpulse with a grayish substance that was flowing from the cups into thecord and from the cord into the body of the mass. Yes, it was agrayish something, a smokelike Essence that was being drawn from thecranial cavity. Bill Jones was no longer screaming and gibbering, butwas stiff with the rigidity of stone. Notwithstanding, there was novisible mark upon his body; his flesh seemed unharmed. 

Swiftly came the awful climax. The waving tentacles withdrewthemselves, the body of Bill Jones lost its rigidity, a heaving motionfrom the center of the Thing propelled its cargo to the surface--andBill Jones stepped out!

Yes, he stepped out and stood for a moment staring straight ahead, staring at nothing, glassily. Every person in the shivering, paralysedgroup knew instinctively that something unthinkable had happened tohim. Something had transpired, something hitherto possible only in theabysmal spaces of the Other Side of Things. Finally he turned andfaced the nameless object, raising his arm stiffly, automatically, asin a military salute. Then he turned and walked jerkily, mindlessly, round and round the globe like a wooden soldier marching. Meanwhilethe Thing lay quiescent--gorged!

 * * * * *

Professor Ralston was the first to find his voice. In fact, ProfessorRalston was always finding his voice in the most unexpected places. But this time it had caught a chill. It was trembling. 

"Gentlemen, " he began, looking down academically upon the motley crowdas though doubting the aptitude of his salutation. "Fellow-citizens, "he corrected, "the phenomenon we have just witnessed is, to the laymind, inexplicable. To me--and to my honorable colleagues (added as anafterthought) it is quite clear. Quite clear, indeed. We have beforeus a specimen, a perfect specimen, I might say, of a--of a--"

He stammered in the presence of the unnamable. His hesitancy causedthe rapt attention of the throng that was waiting breathlessly for anexplanation, to flicker back to the inexplicable. In the fraction of asecond that their gaze had been diverted from the Thing to theprofessor, the object had shot forth another tentacle, gripping himround the neck and choking off his sentence with a horrid rasp thatsounded like a death rattle. 

Needless to say, the revolting process that had turned Bill Jonesfrom a human being into a mindless automaton was repeated withProfessor Ralston. It happened as before, too rapidly forintervention, too suddenly for the minds of the onlookers to shake offthe paralysis of an unprecedented nightmare. But when the victim wasthrown to the surface, when he stepped out, drained of the grayishsmokelike essence, a tentacle still gripped his neck and anotherrested directly on top of his head. This latter tentacle, instead ofabsorbing _from_ him, visibly poured into him what resembled athreadlike stream of violet light. 

 * * * * *

Facing the cowering audience with eyes staring glassily, still in thegrip of the unknowable, Professor Ralston did an unbelievable thing. He resumed his lecture at the exact point of interruption! But hespoke with the tonelessness of a machine, a machine that pulsed to thewill of a dictator, inhuman and inexorable!

"What you see before you, " the Voice continued--the Voice that nolonger echoed the thoughts of the professor--"is what you would callan amoeba, a giant amoeba. It is I--this amoeba, who am addressingyou--children of an alien universe. It is I, who through this capturedinstrument of expression, whose queer language you can understand, amexplaining my presence on your planet. I pour my thoughts into thisspecialised brain-box which I have previously drained of its meagerthought-content. " (Here the "honorable colleagues" nudged each othergleefully. ) "I have so drained it for the purpose of analysis and thatthe flow of my own ideas may pass from my mind to yours unimpeded byany distortion that might otherwise be caused by their conflict withthe thoughts of this individual. 

"First I absorbed the brain-content of this being whom you call BillJones, but I found his mental instrument unavailable. It wastechnically untrained in the use of your words that would best conveymy meaning. He possesses more of what you would call 'innateintelligence, ' but he has not perfected the mechanical brain throughwhose operation this innate intelligence can be transmitted to othersand, applied for practical advantage. 

 * * * * *

"Now this creature that I am using is, as you might say, full of soundwithout meaning. His brain is a lumber-room in which he has hoarded aconglomeration of clever and appropriate word-forms with which todisguise the paucity of his ideas, with which to express nothing! Yetthe very abundance of the material in his storeroom furnishes adiscriminating mind with excellent tools for the transportation of itsideas into other minds. 

"Know, then, that I am not here by accident. I am a Space Wanderer, anexplorer from a super-universe whose evolution has proceeded withoutvariation along the line of your amoeba. Your evolution, as I perceivefrom an analysis of the brain-content of your professor, _began_ itsunfoldment in somewhat the same manner as our own. But in your smallersystem, less perfectly adjusted than our own to the cosmic mechanism, a series of cataclysms occurred. In fact, your planetary system wasitself the result of a catastrophe, or of what might have been acatastrophe, had the two great suns collided whose near approachcaused the wrenching off of your planets. From this colossal accident, rare, indeed, in the annals of the stars, an endless chain ofaccidents was born, a chain of which this specimen, this professor, and the species that he represents, is one of the weakest links. 

"Your infinite variety of species is directly due to the variety ofadaptations necessitated by this train of accidents. In thesuper-universe from which I come, such derangements of the celestialmachinery simply do not happen. For this reason, our evolution hasunfolded harmoniously along one line of development, whereas yourshas branched out into diversified and grotesque expressions of theLife-Principle. Your so-called highest manifestation of thisprinciple, namely, your own species, is characterized by a greatnumber of specialized organs. Through this very specialization offunctions, however, you have forfeited your individual immortality, and it has come about that only your life-stream is immortal. Theprimal cell is inherently immortal, but death follows in the wake ofspecialization. 

 * * * * *

"We, the beings of this amoeba universe, are individually immortal. Wehave no highly specialized organs to break down under the stress ofenvironment. When we want an organ, we create it. When it has servedits purpose, we withdraw it into ourselves. We reach out our tentaclesand draw to ourselves whatsoever we desire. Should a tentacle bedestroyed, we can put forth another. 

"Our universe is beautiful beyond the dreams of your most inspiredpoets. Whereas your landscapes, though lovely, are stationary, unchangeable except through herculean efforts, ours are Protean, eternally changing. With our own substance, we build our minarets oflight, piercing the aura of infinity. At the bidding of our wills wecreate, preserve, destroy--only to build again more gloriously. 

"We draw our sustenance from the primates, as do your plants, and weconstantly replace the electronic base of these primates with our ownemanations, in much the same manner as your nitrogenous plantsrevitalize your soil. 

"While we create and withdraw organs at will, we have nothing tocorrespond to your five senses. We derive knowledge through one senseonly, or, shall I say, a super-sense? We see and hear and touch andtaste and smell and feel and know, not through any one organ, butthrough our whole structure. The homogeneous force of ouromni-substance subjects the plural world to the processing of apowerful unity. 

 * * * * *

"We can dissolve our bodies at will, retaining only the permanent atomof our being, the seed of life dropped on the soil of our planet byInfinite Intelligence. We can propel this indestructible seed on lightrays through the depths of space. We can visit the farthest universewith the velocity of light, since light is our conveyance. In reachingyour little world, I have consumed a million years, for my world is amillion light-years distant: yet to my race a million years is as oneof your days. 

"On arrival at any given destination, we can build our bodies from theelements of the foreign planet. We attain our knowledge of conditionson any given planet by absorbing the thought-content of the brains ofa few representative members of its dominant race. Every well-balancedmind contains the experience of the race, the essence of the wisdomthat the race-soul has gained during its residence in matter. We makethis knowledge a part of our own thought-content, and thus theUniverse lies like an open book before us. 

"At the end of a given experiment in thought absorption, we return theborrowed mind-stuff to the brain of its possessor. We reward oursubject for his momentary discomfiture by pouring into his body oursplendid vitality. This lengthens his life expectancy immeasurably, byliterally burning from his system the germs of actual or incipientills that contaminate the blood-stream. 

 * * * * *

"This, I believe, will conclude my explanation, an explanation to whichyou, as a race in whom intelligence is beginning to dawn, are entitled. But you have a long road to travel yet. Your thought-channels arepitifully blocked and criss-crossed with nonsensical and inhibitorycomplexes that stand in the way of true progress. But you will work thisout, for the Divine Spark that pulses through us of the Larger Universe, pulses also through you. That spark, once lighted, can never beextinguished, can never be swallowed up again in the primeval slime. 

"There is nothing more that I can learn from you--nothing that I canteach you at this stage of your evolution. I have but one message togive you, one thought to leave with you--forge on! You are on thepath, the stars are over you, their light is flashing into your soulsthe slogan of the Federated Suns beyond the frontiers of your littlewarring worlds. Forge on!"

The Voice died out like the chiming of a great bell receding intoimmeasurable distance. The supercilious tones of the professor hadyielded to the sweetness and the light of the Greater Mind whoseinstrument he had momentarily become. It was charged at the last witha golden resonance that seemed to echo down vast spaceless corridorsbeyond the furthermost outposts of time. 

 * * * * *

As the Voice faded out into a sacramental silence, the strangelyassorted throng, moved by a common impulse, lowered their heads asthough in prayer. The great globe pulsed and shimmered throughout itssentient depths like a sea of liquid jewels. Then the tentacle thatgrasped the professor drew him back toward the scintillating nucleus. Simultaneously another arm reached out and grasped Bill Jones, who, during the strange lecture, had ceased his wooden soldier marching andhad stood stiffly at attention. 

The bodies of both men within the nucleus were encircled once more bythe single current. From it again put forth the tentacles, cuppingtheir heads, but the smokelike essence flowed back to them this time, and with it flowed a tiny threadlike stream of violet light. Then camethe heaving motion when the shimmering currents caught the two men andtossed them forth unharmed but visibly dowered with the radiance ofmore abundant life. Their faces were positively glowing and their eyeswere illuminated by a light that was surely not of earth. 

Then, before the very eyes of the marveling people, the great globebegan to dwindle. The jeweled lights intensified, concentrated, merged, until at last remained only a single spot no larger than apin-head, but whose radiance was, notwithstanding, searing, excruciating. Then the spot leaped up--up into the heavens, whirling, dipping and circling as in a gesture of farewell, and finally soaringinto invisibility with the blinding speed of light. 

 * * * * *

The whole wildly improbable occurrence might have been dismissed as aqueer case of mass delusion, for such cases are not unknown tohistory, had it not been followed by a convincing aftermath. 

The culmination of a series of startling coincidences, both ridiculousand tragic, at last brought men face to face with an incontestablefact: namely, that Bill Jones had emerged from his fiery baptismendowed with the thought-expressing facilities of Professor Ralston, while the professor was forced to struggle along with the meagereducational appliances of Bill Jones!

In this ironic manner the Space-Wanderer had left unquestionable proofof his visit by rendering a tribute to "innate intelligence" andplaying a Jovian Jest upon an educated fool--a neat transposition. 

A Columbus from a vaster, kindlier universe had paused for a moment tolearn the story of our pigmy system. He had brought us a message fromthe outermost citadels of life and had flashed out again on his aeonicvoyage from everlasting unto everlasting. 

FOR VACATION ADVENTURERS

Truth is stranger than fiction. Ask the Regular Army man who hassoldiered in the far-off corners of the earth, gone "over the top" inaction, and has experienced the thrill of service in the tropics orthe sub-arctic. 

Better yet, get an earful of real Astounding Stories yourself, atfirst hand this summer, as one of the thirty thousand young menbetween the ages of seventeen and twenty-four enjoying those thirtyglorious days and nights as a student-camper at one of Uncle Sam'sCitizens' Military Training Camps. 

All of these Camps are pitched at Regular Army posts, and it is thecustom for grizzled old-timers who have followed the Flag for manylong years to drift down to "the boys" around campfire time each nightand regale the student campers with thrilling, real life yarns ofaction and adventure in many strange and unusual circumstances. 

It is not necessary for one to be a rich man's son in order to enjoythe manifold benefits of their Camps. Uncle Sam pays all the necessarybills including transportation, the best of food, bedding, laundryservice and medical treatment if needed. And there is no obligationfor future military service entailed by attendance at any of theseNation-wide CMT camps. Their primary mission is the upbuilding ofAmerican youth in health and good citizenship. 

Detailed information, together with illustrated literature about theCitizens' Military Training Camp, may be obtained by addressing theCMTC Officer at the U. S. Army post nearest your home. 

[Advertisement:]

The Atom-Smasher

_By Victor Rousseau_

[Illustration: _It was sublime and terrible, and on the result of thatconflict depended--what?_]

[Sidenote: Four destinies rocket through the strange Time-Space of theFourth Dimension in Tode's marvelous Atom-Smasher. ]

CHAPTER I

_The "Vanishing Place"_

"Look at that plane! That fellow's crazy! Took off with the windbehind him! He'll nose dive before he clears the clubhouse! He'llcrash into those trees along the edge of the golf course!"

The group on the field at Westbury, Long Island, held their breaths asthey watched James Dent take off in the wildest, most erratic flightthat they had ever seen. Under lowering storm clouds, with the windroaring half a hurricane behind him, Dent spiraled upward as ifunconscious of the laws of Earthly gravity. 

"I told you so! You ought to have stopped him, even if it is hisprivate plane! A feller's got no business trying to break his neck!Look there! He's cleared those trees after all!"

James Dent had cleared them, and the clubhouse too, and was alreadydisappearing across the Hempstead Plains, looking like a leaf whirlingup in a winter storm. At a height of five hundred feet he spedeastward. 

"Didn't tell you where he was going?"

"Nope, acted like a crazy man. Something on his mind sure. Whereverhe's bound for, he'll never get there!"

 * * * * *

But James Dent was already out of sight, and the little groupdispersed. And Dent, winging his way due east, over the oak barrens ofcentral Long Island, was conscious neither of the storm that howledabout him nor of the excitement that his rash take-off had occasioned. 

The rain lashed him in the open cockpit, the ground fog swirled abouthim, and, though it was still afternoon, there brooded a sombertwilight over the wastes. But in his mind Dent was alreadyanticipating his descent at the "Vanishing Place, " as the nativescalled it near Peconic Bay. 

The "Vanishing Place" was so called because of the terrible andinexplicable catastrophe that had occurred there five yearspreviously. In the two-century-old farmhouse, Miles Parrish, theworld's greatest authority on physical chemistry, had been conductinginvestigations into the structure of the atom. 

James Dent and Lucius Tode had been associated with old Parrish inthis work, which, carried to a successful issue, would revolutionizethe social organization of the world. The energy locked up in the atomis so stupendous that, as Eddington indicated, a thimbleful of coal, disintegrated, would carry the _Mauretania_ from England to Americaand back again. To unlock this energy would be to set man free frombondage, to restore the pristine leisure and happiness of Eden. 

 * * * * *

And because the three men were playing with deadly forces, ofincalculable power, this deserted spot had been selected for thecarrying on of the investigations. The old farmhouse had beenconverted into a laboratory. For days together the three had bent overtheir tubes and laboratory apparatus, hardly eating or sleeping. Andthe day had come when success had seemed almost within their grasp. 

Dent had received six months' leave of absence from his duties atColumbia University in order to prosecute the experiments. As theweeks went by, and the blind track that the three were followingopened into a clear road, a sort of madness settled upon every one ofthem. 

The Planck-Bohr quantum theory that the energy of a body cannot varycontinuously, but only by a certain finite amount, or exact multiplesof this amount, had been the key that unlocked the door. But always ithad been Lucius Tode who led the way. Tode was a graduate of theUniversity of Virginia, and accounted one of the most brilliant mindsof his generation. At thirty, he stood head and shoulders above hiscontemporaries. 

Dark, handsome, fearless, with a will power that nothing seemed ableto subdue, he had taken the leadership away from old Miles Parrish, who eagerly and without thought of his own reputation followed in hisassistant's footsteps. 

There were the three men--and there was the girl, Lucille Parrish, thechild of Miles's old age. Seventeen, when the catastrophe occurred, she had come out to the deserted spot sometimes of a Sunday from herboarding school at Garden City. 

And Tode had found time to make love to her when he rushed her back toher school in his high-powered foreign car!

Jim Dent had known nothing of that until after the catastrophe. Lucille had been afraid of him, afraid to open her mouth upon thesubject even to her father. And she had been fascinated too, as ayoung girl may well be, when a fascinating man of thirty uses his artsto win her. 

 * * * * *

It was only by chance that Jim had failed to be involved in thehideous catastrophe that had stamped the old farmhouse with the nameof "Vanishing Place" whenever the natives spoke of it. 

"Two Killed in Laboratory Explosion!" was the heading in the nextmorning's paper which gave Jim his first intimation of the accident. He had been to Columbia overnight to look up a new publication thatcontained an article on the hydrogen spectrum. 

It was only a long paragraph, and the names of Parrish and Tode meantnothing to the man who had written it. But Jim had taken train toHempstead, taxied to the flying fields, and essayed his first planeride to Peconic Bay, in the charge of a pilot. 

A group of natives, three newspaper men and a Suffolk County policemanwere near the spot where the farmhouse had been--near the spot, not onit. 

For where the farmhouse had been was a great pool of stagnant water, black as ink, covering an expanse of perhaps three-quarters of anacre. 

"No, sir, there was no explosion, " said the officer. "At least, noneof these fellows heard anything. Just a--you tell the Professor, Mr. Lumm. "

"It was about half-past eight last night, Mr. Dent, " said Andrew Lumm, who kept the village store a mile away. "Ground seemed to rock. Earthquake, I says to myself, holdin' on to the door. But it wasn't noearthquake. Too gentle for that. Nothin' broke, not even a plate. ThenI says to Mrs. Lumm, 'They're gone, poor fellers, and I allus knowedit would be that way. It's lucky young Mr. Dent went out last night onthe 7. 15. '

"We hurried here, but there wasn't no sign of the place, jest a holeon the ground with a sort of sticky mud in it. Water's been fillin' insince then, but I guess it's reached its level now. They jest blowedthemselves to bits, Mr. Dent. "

"Tell him about the vi'let light, Andy, " put in one of thebystanders. 

"Yeah, like a pillar of vi'let fire that were, Mr. Dent. We seed itthrough the trees, but by the time we got here it was 'most gone. Gosh, that throwed a scare into some of us!"

"It was Mr. Tode's soul a-burnin', " squeaked Granpop Dawes. "I allussaid that feller'd come to no good end. "

The group shook their heads and remained silent. It was clear that, ifthey did not share Granpop Dawes's opinion, at least they consideredit not without the bounds of plausibility. Lucius Tode had created abad impression among the natives. 

 * * * * *

Jim Dent stooped and picked up something lying imbedded in the mud atthe edge of the black pool, and slipped it into his pocket. He hadbeen present at the inquest and had gone back to Columbia. That hadbeen five years before. 

Professor McDowd, the palaeontologist, had identified the object Jimhad found as the milk molar of _merychippus insignis_, the miocenerepresentative of the modern horse. And that had made Jim Dent thinkfuriously. 

The catastrophe must have been a gigantic one to have flung up thatfossil tooth from strata far beneath the level of the earth's surface. More, there were even traces of archaean deposits around the bordersof the pool, whose depth, in the center, was ascertained to be 164feet. 

Black, silent, uninhabited, unstirred save by a passing breeze, thepool had remained those five years past. The spot was shunned ashaunted or accursed by the superstitious country folks. Denseunderbrush had grown up around it. 

Periodically, Jim had gone out to visit it. That was how he had cometo invest in a private plane. It was only an hour to theflying-fields, and less than an hour from there to Peconic Bay. Whathe expected to achieve he did not know. In the back of his mind wasthe belief that some day he would light upon some clue that wouldtell something of the unusual catastrophe. 

And then that afternoon he had been shaken to the depths when amessage came to him in Lucille's voice over the telephone:

"I've heard from dad!"

 * * * * *

Winging his way eastward through the storm, Jim Dent was mentallyreconstructing all that had led up to the present moment. 

Lucille had finished her high school course and gone into businesslife. Jim had found a position for her as secretary to a small groupof physicists, who were conducting private investigations, a positionfor which her training well fitted her. She had done well. He had keptin touch with her. 

Six months before, their relations had altered. They had realized thatthey were in love with each other. In the months that followed theyhad discovered all sorts of things about each other that neither hadsuspected, which might be summed up by saying that they had become allin all to each other. 

It was so amazing, this transformation of ordinary friendship intoradiant love, that they were still bewildered over it. They were to bemarried at the end of the year. 

It was then that Lucille had first told Jim about Lucius's wooing, andher fear of the man. Apart from that, both had refrained, by tacitagreement, from making reference to the past. 

And then, that afternoon, there sounded Lucille's voice over thetelephone, "I've heard from dad!"

"From--your father? You're mistaken, dear!"

"No, Jim, I'm not mistaken. He called me on the 'phone two hours ago. I couldn't mistake his voice, and, besides, he called me "Lucy, " likehe used to do. He told me to come at once to the Vanishing Place, butnot to tell a soul unless I wished to do him a great evil. Then herang off. "

"Where are you now?" asked Jim. 

"I'm 'phoning from Amityville. I took the train immediately, but Iwas so frightened, and--and at last I decide I must tell you. I didn'tthink dad would have minded my telling you. So I got out. There'sanother train in a few minutes, and I shall go on to Hampton Bays andwalk the two miles to the Vanishing Place. I--I'll meet you there. "

"Lucille, wait! Can't you meet me somewhere else, and we'll go ontogether. I'll get my plane and--"

"Oh, I just can't wait, Jim! I'm in such terror that I won't find dadwhen I get there. And he told me to tell nobody. I--I'll meet you atthe Vanishing Place, Jim. "

And so great had been her agitation that with that arrangement Jim hadhad to rest content. He had taken a taxi out to the flying fields atonce. 

 * * * * *

In half an hour he would know what had happened. And he was obsessedby the terror that he would not find Lucille or anything except thelonely pool. 

That was why he opened the throttle and drove on wildly through thescurrying wraiths of mist, pierced by the tops of trees that at timesrose dangerously near the spreading wings. 

That gap in the trees was Lake Ronkokoma. Not far now! Jim would knowsoon. But as he flew, vague fears that had beset his mind since he hadreceived Lucille's message began to crystallize into the single fearof Tode. If Parrish was really alive--why not Tode too?

Beneath the polish and the surface comradeship, Jim had always beenconscious of some _diablerie_ about the man, of some inner life ofwhich he knew nothing. Something unscrupulous and relentless, something infinitely cruel--as when he had tested the Atom Smasher ona stray cur that had run into the laboratory, not for experimentation, but in mere ruthless savagery, converting the living beast instantlyinto a shapeless mass of flesh and bone. 

And Tode had known more about the Atom Smasher--as they affectionatelycalled the mechanism for releasing atomic energy--than old Parrish andhe together. Suppose Lucille's story were true! Suppose old Parrishwere actually alive, suppose Tode were responsible for some designedscheme which would, in the end place Lucille in his power!

Wild thoughts and fears--but Jim would soon know. And with throttlestretched to the limit he went roaring over the scrub oak towardPeconic Bay. 

 * * * * *

It was beginning to grow dark, almost too dark for landing. But nowJim could feel the tang of the salt wind upon his face. He sloweddown. The fog was as thick as ever, but the scrub oak had given placeto more open country. In a minute or two he ought to sight somelandmark. Yes, he had overshot his mark, for suddenly, through a gapin the mists, he saw the line of breakers forming a white ridge uponthe sand. 

A mile southward! Jim knew where he was now, for he knew every curveof that shore. He banked and turned. And then he saw something thatfor an instant chilled his blood. 

Not far away, and not far beneath him, a ghostly violet haze wasspreading through the fog, and the fog itself was coiling back from ituntil it formed a dense white wall. 

For a moment Jim's hand was paralysed upon the stick. The next, hisdecision was made. He closed his throttle and went down in a slowdescent right toward the heart of that column of lavender smoke thatseemed to be springing straight up out of the ground. "A pillar ofviolet fire!" It could not have been described better. 

The plane dived through the dense wall of fog, which for a moment shutout the violet fire completely. Then Jim was through, and almostimmediately beneath him lay the black and glassy surface of the pool. Out of the very heart of it rose the fire, burning like some infernalflame that consumed nothing, and between it and the fog was a space ofalmost translucent air, extending to the borders of the pool. 

Jim began to circle the pool to find a landing-place. But as he lookeddown, the surface of the pool began to change its aspect. 

 * * * * *

In place of the unruffled calm, it began to work with some devil'syeast all around the central pillar of flame, until its depths seemedto be churned up in frothy masses and the movement extended almost tothe circumference. Then the whole surface of the water began to tiltand sway with a slow, shimmering, undulatory movement, as if it was agiant roulette wheel in rotation. 

And something was materializing out of the heart of the violet flameitself. 

It was a face--a human face, with bestial features, distorted andenormously magnified through the substance in which it was. Such aface as might look back upon an observer out of one of thosedistorting mirrors at Coney Island, or some other place of popularamusement, but twisted and enlarged beyond conception, so that itcovered half the area of a city block. 

Curiously blurred, too, as if each atom of that face was in isolatedmotion on its own account. And beneath the face appeared the vagueoutlines of a hand, apparently manipulating some sort of infernalmechanism. 

And that face, enlarged as it was out of all proportion, filled Jim'sheart with greater horror than any face he had ever known. 

For it was the visage of Lucius Tode, and on those huge and distortedfeatures was something that looked like a diabolical smile. 

 * * * * *

Everything vanished. Jim was back in the surrounding wall of fog. Instinctively he banked again. He strove to drive the horror from hisbrain. He must circle, circle incessantly, in the hope of findingLucille. She must have already arrived. But if she had not falleninto Tode's power, she would hear the roaring of the plane and manageto signal him. 

He circled back into the clear space between the white and the violet, and now he saw that the effect upon the pool was still morepronounced. The waters were rising up in a rim all around, and yet notoverflowing. They were standing up like a bowl of clay upon thepotter's wheel, and down in the depths Jim could see the head andshoulders of Tode, much less magnified, more natural in appearance, and less blurred. And Tode was looking up at him and pointing thatinfernal mechanism at him--something that looked like the tube of atelescope. 

Suddenly the plane shivered and stood still. The motor died abruptly. The stick went dead. And yet the plane did not fall. As if upheld bythe same repulsive force that drove back the white fog, it simply hungsuspended three hundred feet above the heart of the violet flame. 

Then--there was no longer any plane. The stick had melted in Jim'shand, the wings dissolved like wreaths of mist. The entire body haddisintegrated into nothingness. Jim sat suspended in the void, andfelt himself very slowly descending into the violet column. 

Down into the vortex of that bubbling pool, which rimmed him on allsides . .. Down into the central aperture out of which emerged theleering face of Tode! And as he dropped Jim heard, thin, faint, andvery far away, the despairing cry of Lucille. .. . 

CHAPTER II

_Old Friends--and Foes_

Jim must have lapsed into unconsciousness, for when he opened his eyesthere was a gap in his consciousness of the passage of time, thoughnone in his memory. He opened his eyes, and instantly he rememberedeverything. 

Only a brief interval could have elapsed, for it was not quite dark. The fog and the violet flame had cleared away. Overhead a few starstwinkled. Jim was lying on his side, half-buried in the black, slimymud of the dried up pool. 

There was nothing but the smooth, shelving mud basin, with the scruboak surrounding it. Tode and the machine had vanished. 

Jim pulled himself with an effort out of the sucking mud, and, heavilyclogged with it, began to make his way toward the margin. 

Stumbling, struggling through the viscid ooze, he shouted Lucille'sname despairingly. But no answer came, and his cries only made theutter silence all about him seem more fearsome. 

Exhausted by his efforts, he gained the edge of the pool at last, andstopped, trying to orientate himself. As he did so, he saw a humanface peering at him out of a clump of scrub oak. 

It was the face of an aged man, with a long white beard and rags ofclothes that were festooned about him. Jim took a step toward it, shouting a challenge. Next moment it had hurled itself out of itsshelter toward him, and two skeletonlike arms were twined about hisshoulders, while the fingers worked upward toward his throat. 

The face was that of a madman, crazed by fear. And Jim recognized it. It was the face of Professor Parrish. 

Parrish, the trim, immaculate, clean-shaven, urbane old man, whoselectures, imbued with wit and scholarship, had always been the delightof his classes--Parrish reduced to this gibbering maniac! And yetParrish himself, returned to the site of their experiments after fiveyears!

 * * * * *

So fierce was the old man's onset, so desperate his clutch, that for ahalf-minute or more Jim was reduced to fighting for his life. Theclawing fingers, armed with long nails, furrowed Jim's throat, therewas a terrific strength in the body, wasted though it was almost to askeleton. 

But it was only for a half-minute that old Parrish's endurance lasted. Suddenly the old man went limp and tottered forward, dropped upon theground. Jim bent over him. 

"Parrish, you know me! I'm Jim Dent!" he cried. "I came here to saveyou. "

Parrish was muttering something. Jim caught the words "Tode, " and "Godhelp Lucille!"

"Parrish, I'm Jim Dent!" Jim cried again, and the old man, shuddering, opened his eyes and recognized him. 

"Jim!" he muttered. "Jim Dent! Then where is she? I got away from thatdevil, found farmhouse empty, got telephone book, found her and'phoned her. Told her to come. Save--Lucille!"

He fell back, his eyes closed. Jim crouched over the unconscious oldman. He was in a state of utter perplexity. He could not quite gatherwhat Parrish had been trying to tell him, and it was with difficultythat he could focus his mind upon the situation, so great had been theshock of finding his former chief in that condition. 

What had become of his plane, and where was Lucille? Jim was positivethat he had heard her cry for help out of the vortex in the water. 

But there was no water, only the circle of black mud extended in thestarlight. 

Again and again Jim shouted Lucille's name, and his cries went echoingaway through the scrub without result. 

Jim looked down at the unconscious old man beside him. He must getParrish away, get him to Andy Lumm's. He bent over him again andraised him in his arms. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly he heard two familiar sounds behind him, two dull thumps thatsounded less like explosions than echoes, long drawn out, and recedinginto infinity. There was no other sound quite like them that he hadever heard. 

They were the snap of the electrical discharge as the Atom Smasherbegan to operate, and why the snap had sounded like a heavy bodyfalling a long distance away, was not known. 

Tode had said one day, with what Jim had taken for sarcasm, that theyrepresented the wave series of a single sound extended in time to makefour-dimensional action, but Jim had never considered the explanationseriously. 

That sound, bringing back all Jim's memories of their experiments, brought him to his feet sharply. He swung around. The surface of thepool was a bubbling, seething mass of mud and water. And over itssurface that faint violet haze was beginning to spread. 

In the center where the light was thickest, something like a gyroscopeappeared to be revolving. Out of the gyroscope something was beginningto project--that infernal tube of Lucius Tode. And Jim knew that inthe heart of the flame that enormous, distorted face of Lucius Todewould again be visible. 

The human nervous system can only endure a certain amount of impact. The sight of that ghastly flame, already condensing into a violetpillar, was more than Jim could stand. He dragged old Parrish to hisfeet and started off with him into the thickest part of theundergrowth. 

A fearful scream behind him stopped him at the very edge of the scrub. He looked back, still supporting the half-conscious old man in hisarms. The violet flame was shooting up in a straight pillar, the wholecentral portion of the pool was dry, and the waters were heaped up allaround it. 

From the slightly elevated spot where Jim stood, he could see Todeholding Lucille in his arms in the very heart of the fire, which threwa pale, fluorescent light over their faces. Tode was wearing a spottedskin, like that of a leopard, and Lucille was in the blue frock thatshe had worn when Jim and she had dinner together two eveningsbefore. 

Jim dropped old Parrish, shouted in answer, and dashed back like amadman down the slope into the solid wall of water. 

 * * * * *

He fought his way desperately through that wall, which seemed of theconsistency of soft rubber or treacle, as if some subtle change hadtaken place in its molecular isomers. It adhered to him withoutwetting him, and he plunged through it, hearing Lucille cry out again, and yet again. 

And now he was through, and once more struggling over the viscidsurface of the pond. Behind him he heard old Parrish blundering, andscreeching at the top of his voice, but he paid no attention to him. 

He could see Lucille more clearly, and the large, hazy outlines ofTode's features were beginning to assume the proper proportions. Therewas a diabolical leer upon Tode's face, unchanged during the fiveyears since Jim had seen him last, except that it had become moreevil, more powerful. The enormous and distorted face that Jim had seenhad been simply due to the presence of some refracting medium. 

The pillar of violet light was thinning, spreading out over the pool, but Jim could now see the scene more clearly than before, even as herushed onward. 

The machine was inside what looked like a flat boat, but more circularthan a boat, and apparently was made of some metal resemblingaluminum. Either from the metal hull or from the mechanism inside itthere was emitted a pungent odor resembling chlorine. 

The mechanism itself bore some resemblance to the old Atom Smasher offive years before, but it appeared to be immensely more complicated. Wheels of various sizes were set at every conceivable angle around thecentral tube, from which the violet light was emanating, and all wererotating and gyrating so fast that they looked like discs of light. The boat itself was trembling, and this movement appeared to becommunicated to the boiling mud in the central part of the pool. 

 * * * * *

As Jim tried to leap down through the sucking mud to snatch Lucillefrom Tode, the latter stopped, straightened himself, and pointed ashort tube at Jim's heart. 

Jim felt as if an enormous, invisible force had struck him in thechest. It was apparently the same repulsive force that had driven backthe waters. The shock was not a violent one. It did not throw him offhis feet. It merely pushed him slowly and irresistibly backward. 

And the whole picture was beginning to fade. Etched sharply in theviolet light one moment, it now looked like a drawing that had beencovered with tissue paper. 

The outlines were dissolving into a haze--or, rather, each line seemedreproduced an infinite number of times, as the edge of a vibrating sawshows an infinitude of edges. The violet fire was becoming still morediffused. It hovered over the waters, a pale, flickering glow. Andsimultaneously the walls of water began to break and come surgingforward. 

Jim saw Lucille stretching out her arms toward him, and tried tostruggle forward, but in vain. She cried out his name, and he put allhis strength into that desperate futile struggle to reach her. But hewas being borne backward by the invisible power in the tube. Therushing torrent was surging about his knees; grew waist deep: inanother moment Jim was swimming for his life against the furiousflood. 

Suddenly, however, the tremendous pressure on his chest was relaxed. Tode had turned the tube away from him. He was leaning forward out ofthe boat and grasped old Parrish, who had been flung violently againstit by the dissolving waters. 

The same flood carried Jim to the boat's side. Here, however, theflood was only knee deep, owing to the repulsion still being exercisedby the violet light, which was glimmering feebly. Jim found his feetand leaped into the craft. He grasped Lucille in his arms. 

 * * * * *

He turned to confront Tode, who had just dragged old Parrish over theside. The three men confronted one another. 

"Turn that tube on me, and I'll jump into your damn machinery and bustit!" Jim shouted. 

An ironical expression came on Tode's face. It was clear that he stillconsidered himself master of the situation. "At the immediate moment, Dent, the lives of all of us depend upon your keeping absolutelystill, " he answered. "Take my advice and sit down!"

Jim saw Lucille's face, ghastly in the faint violet light that playedabout it. The girl had fainted. She was lying unconscious, her feetagainst the circular metal plate that protected the machinery, herhead upon the rail that ran around the boat's upper edge. Tode, without waiting for Jim's answer, stepped over the plate and took hisseat at a sort of instrument board with control levers and thumbscrews that apparently controlled the needles on four dials. Hetouched a button, and instantly the violet light disappeared. 

With its vanishing, the waves came surging forward, and lappedviolently against the hull, as if about to overwhelm the vessel, which, however, seemed immovable. It simply rose higher in the water. 

Jim understood the cause of this. Those gyroscopes would retain thehull in the same position against anything but a mechanical forcestrong enough to ruin it. He watched Tode as he sat at the instrumentboard, which was illuminated by two tiny lights of what looked likemercury-vapor. His face, handsome and cruel as ever, was tense as hemanipulated the thumb screws. Beside him lay Parrish, faintlywhimpering. The old man had evidently abandoned all hope of effectinghis escape, or of rescuing his daughter. 

It was unbearable to have to sit there, knowing that the three ofthem were absolutely at Tode's mercy, and yet there was nothing elseto do. 

 * * * * *

Tode looked up with a saturnine smile. "It's a delicate operation toblur the present without shooting out a hundred years or so in time, "he said, "but my micrometer's pretty accurate, Dent. Don't move, Icaution you!" He smiled again. "Yes, Dent, time is something like thefourth dimension of space, as we believed in the old days, and I'veproved it. "

Jim saw Tode touch the screw that controlled the fourth dial, andinstantly it was borne in on him that each of the dials controlled onespatial dimension. This fourth, then, was the time dimension!

Could it be true that Tode had solved the practical problem oftraveling in time, theoretically implied since the discoveries ofEinstein?

He had known in the old days that the Atom Smasher might be adapted tothis purpose, but neither Parrish nor he had dreamed of turning asidefrom their endeavor to utilize it for the purpose of releasing atomicenergy. 

Thump! Thump! The familiar old sound, rushing back into memory afterall those years, the release of the electrical discharge, echoingthrough infinity! The scrub around the pool blurred and was gone. Avast gray panorama extended itself on either side of them. 

They were travelling--in space--and time too. Jim no longer doubted. And, chilled with horror, he sat there, his arm about Lucille'sunconscious form. 

CHAPTER III

_Into the Infinite_

How long he sat there he did not know. Minutes or hours seemed all thesame to him. Nothing but that gray monochrome, of neither light nordarkness, that endless panorama of miles and years, blended togetherinto this chaos!

But suddenly there came a shout from Tode. The blur ceased, the lightsflickered. Again there sounded the two thumps of the electricaldischarge. The vibrating mechanism grew steady. Above them, out of thegrayness, a moon disclosed itself, then the pin-points of stars. Allabout them was an immense, sandy waste. 

"Know where we are, Dent?" came Tode's chuckle. 

Jim was not sufficiently master of himself to attempt to answer. 

"We are on what will be the Russian steppes some fifty thousand yearsahead of us in time, " grinned Tode. "This is an interlude between twoice ages. Observe how pleasantly warm the climate is, for Russia. Unfortunately the receding glaciers carried off the top-soil, whichaccounts for the barrenness of the district, but in another centurythis country will be overgrown with ferns, and inhabited by themastodon and wild horse, and a few enterprising palaeolithic hunters, who will come in to track them down and destroy them with their stoneaxes. "

 * * * * *

"I think you're the same sort of damn liar you always were, Tode, "answered Jim--but without conviction. There was something terrificabout that desolation. Nothing within a thousand miles of Long Islandcorresponded to it. 

"You'll be convinced pretty quickly, when you see my specimen, "answered Tode. "I let him off here on the way to the pool. He's notexactly presentable, and when I got the idea of picking up Lucille andtaking her back with me, I thought it best not to let her see him. Hedidn't want to be let off. Was afraid I wouldn't pick him up again, and I'll admit it was a matter of pretty careful reckoning. But thisis the place, almost to the yard. 

"Yes, I've done some close reckoning, Dent, but the cleverest part ofthe business was letting old Parrish think he'd got away from me. Iknew he'd telephone Lucille. You know, I always had the brains of theoutfit, Dent, " he continued, with a smirk of self-satisfaction. 

He looked out of the boat. "And here, if I'm not mistaken, comes myspecimen, " he added. 

 * * * * *

Something was running across the steppes toward them. It came nearer, took human form. It was human! A man--but such a man as Jim had neverseen before outside the covers of a book. And he recognised the raceimmediately. 

It was a Neanderthal man, one of the race that co-existed with thehighly developed Cro-Magnons some thirty thousand years ago. Man andnot ape, though the face was bestial, and there were huge ridges abovethe eyebrows. 

And if Jim had needed conviction, the sight of this gibberingcreature, now climbing into the boat and fawning upon Tode, convincedhim. For the Neanderthal man vanished from the scene long before thebeginning of recorded history. 

For a few moments a deathly faintness overcame him . .. His eyesclosed, he felt unconsciousness rushing in upon him like a blackcloud. 

"It's all right, Dent--don't look so scared!" came Tode's mockingvoice. 

Jim opened his eyes, shook off that cloud of darkness with an immenseeffort. The boat was throbbing violently as the wheels gyrated, theviolet light had become a pillar as thick as a man, and shot straightup to a height of fifty feet, before it rolled away. Lucille was lyingwhere she had been, her eyes still staring up unseeing at the stars. Old Parrish was whining and whimpering as he crouched in his place. 

And at Tode's feet crouched the Neanderthal man, repulsive, bestial, even though hardly formidable, and filling the last vacant spot insidethe boat. He was gibbering and mouthing as he fawned upon Tode andpressed his hand to his hairy face. He continued to crouch and lookedup at his master with doglike eyes. 

 * * * * *

Repulsive, and yet man, not ape. Distinctly human, perhaps a littlelower than the Australian aborigine, the Neanderthal showed by hisreverence that the human faculty of worship existed in him. 

"Meet Cain, one of my Drilgoes, " said Tode, with a grin. "A faithfulservant. I left him here to wait for me on the return journey. Cain'sjust my pet name for him because he subsists on the fruits of theearth, don't you, Cain?"

The Drilgo grunted, and pressed Tode's hand to his repulsive lips, which were fringed with a reddish beard. Suddenly Tode began to laughuproariously. "Feel anything wrong with your head, Dent?" he asked. 

Dent put up his hand and pulled away a quantity of charred hair. Hisforehead began to itch, and, rubbing his finger across it, he realizedthat his eyebrows were gone. Tode laughed still louder. 

"You've kept your teeth by about two seconds' grace, Dent, but Ishouldn't be surprised if you needed dental attention shortly, " hesaid. "What a pity dentists won't be invented for another forty orfifty thousand years. "

"You're a devil!" cried Jim. 

"You see, the human body is very resistant to the Ray, " Tode went on. "It almost seems as if there is an organizing principle within it. Even the animal tissues are resistant, though not to the same extentas the human ones. It takes about twenty seconds for the organizedhuman form to be disintegrated. But hair and beaks and claws, beingsuperficial matter, vanish almost as soon as the Ray is turned onthem. Ten seconds more, and you'd have been obliterated, Dent, just asyour plane was. 

"Yes, rub your head. Your hair will probably grow again--if I decideto let you live. It rather depends upon what impression you make uponLucille as a bald-headed hero. After all, I didn't invite you toaccompany us. It's your own lookout. "

 * * * * *

Jim could find nothing to say to that. He was discovering more andmore that they were all helpless in Tode's hands. 

"Sit back!" snarled Tode suddenly. He gave the Drilgo a push that senthim sprawling into the bottom of the boat. "Dent, your life dependsupon your absolute acquiescence to my proposals. I didn't like youparticularly in the old days, any more than you liked me. I thoughtyou were a fool. On the other hand, I've no active reason to hate you, at present. It may be that I can use you. 

"Meanwhile we've got a longish journey before us, ten thousand yearsmore, multiplied by the fourth power of two thousand miles. Seemssimple? Well, I had to invent the mathematical process for it. Reckonin the gravitational attraction of the planets, and you'll begin toget an idea of the complexity of it. So, in vulgar parlance, we're notlikely to arrive till morning. "

He glanced at Lucille, who was still lying unconscious with Jim's armabout her. Then his eyes rose to meet Jim's, and a sneering smileplayed about his lips. That smile was the acknowledgment of theirrivalry for the girl's affections. And it was more--it was achallenge. 

Tode welcomed that rivalry because, Jim could see, he meant to keephim alive under conditions of servitude, to demonstrate to Lucille hissuperiority. 

Tode turned his thumbscrews, and the two thuds resounded. The violetcolumn sank down, the boat vibrated, the level stretch of land becamea blur again. The moon and stars vanished. Once more the four were offon that terrific journey. 

 * * * * *

At first they seemed to be traversing space that was shot through byalternate light and darkness, so that at times Jim could see the otheroccupants of the boat clearly, while at other times there was onlyTode visible at the instrument board, with the dark outlines of theDrilgo, Cain, sprawled at his feet. But soon these streaks seemed tocome closer and closer together, until the duration of each was only afraction of a second. And closer, until light and darkness blendedinto a universal gray. These, Jim knew, were the alternations of nightand day. 

They were traveling--incredible as it was--in time as well as space, though whether backward or forward Jim could not know. From thepresence of the Neanderthal man, however, Jim was convinced that Todewas taking them back more thousands of years, into the beginnings ofhumanity. 

A fearful journey! A madder journey than Jim could have conceived of, had he not been a participant in it. He was losing all sense ofreality. He was hardly convinced that he would not awaken in New York, to discover that the whole episode had been a dream. 

Was this Lucille, the girl he loved . .. With whom he had dined in NewYork only a day or two before . .. This unconscious form, stretched outon the deck of the weird ship that was rushing through eternity? Or, rather, it was they who were rushing through space and time upon astationary ship! What was reality, and what was dream, then?

Tode called "Come over here, Dent! I want to talk to you!"

 * * * * *

Jim picked his way over the metal floor of the round boat, came up toTode, and sat down beside him above the sprawling form of the Drilgo, Cain. 

"You were a fool to come here, Dent. " Tode turned with a malicioussmile from his seat at the instrument board. "You didn't have to come. I take it that you are in love with Lucille, you poor imbecile, andstill cherish dreams of winning her. We'll take up that matter in duecourse. 

"Do you think I've been idle during these five years of my exile? I'vebeen too busy even to come back for the woman I was in love with. Anddo you know what I've been doing during all this hellish period?Charting courses, Dent! Mapping out all the planetary movements backfor uncounted ages--roughly, crudely, of course, but the best I wasable to. These are difficult seas to navigate, though they may notseem so. You fool, " he added savagely, "why didn't you come in with mein the old days? I told you that the Atom Smasher could be used totravel through time, and you mocked at me as a dreamer. 

"I chose my hour. When everything was ready, I set forth on the mostdesperate journey ever attempted by man. Talk of Columbus!--he hadnothing on me. I tell you, Dent, I've been back to the Archaean Age, back to the time when nothing but crawling worms moved on the face ofthe earth. And I've been forward to the time when an errant planetwill disrupt the earth into a shower of lava--and I nearly wrecked theboat. Dent. 

"I've won, Dent! I've won! I've solved the problem that gives manimmortality! All the epochs that have existed since God first formedthe world are mine to play with! I have seen myself as a pulinginfant, and as a greybeard. I have made myself immortal, because, withthis machine, I can set back the clock of time. I have found a landwhere I am worshipped as a god. "

 * * * * *

Tode's eyes glittered with maniacal fires. He went on in a voice ofindescribable triumph:

"I'm a god there, Dent. Do you want to know where that land is? It isAtlantis, sunk beneath the waves nine thousand years before recordedhistory opened. It is Atlantis, from which the Cro-Magnons fled intheir ships, to land on the coasts of Spain and France, and become theancestors of modern man. 

"In old Atlantis, still not wholly submerged, I have made myself agod. I have mastered the savage Drilgoes whom the Atlanteansoppressed. All the spoils of their ruined cities are at my disposal. And I came back to get Lucille, whom I had never ceased to love. Together Lucille and I will rule like god and goddess. 

"Join me, Dent. I'm a god in Atlantis--a god, I tell you. The lesserraces fear me as a supernatural being. Only the city remainsuncaptured, but it is mine whenever I choose to take it. A god--agod--a god!"

Jim saw now what he had not realized before, that Tode was insane. Itwould, indeed, have been a miracle if he had been able to retain hissanity under such circumstances as he had described. His voice roseinto a wild scream. Yes, Tode was mad--just such a madman as any ofthe old Roman emperors, drunk with power, each in his turn the soleruler of the world. 

"The Earth is mine!" Tode screamed. "Before the modern world wasdreamed of, before the nations were created, Atlantis was the solepower that held dominion over the scattered tribes of mankind. And sheis in my hand whenever I strike. 

"Wealth incalculable, treasures such as man has never since seen, marvels of scientific discovery, flying machines that would make ourslook foolish, paintings grander than have since been executed--allthese things exist in the proud city that will shortly be at mycommand. And I have my Drilgoes, the inferior race, to serve me. Theyworship me because they know I am a god. Join me, Dent, and taste thejoys of being one of the supreme rulers of the world. "

 * * * * *

In spite of his undoubted madness, there was such power in Tode'svoice that Jim could not help believe what he had said. 

"Well, " snarled Tode. "You hesitate to give me your answer, Dent?"

"Lucille and I are engaged to be married, " answered Jim, and the wordswere drawn from his lips almost against his will. "We love each other. I am not going to lie to you and then betray you, Tode. "

The expression on Tode's face was demoniacal. He snatched up thedeadly tube that contained the violet fire and turned it upon Jim. Again Jim felt that repulsive force pushing him back. He gasped forbreath, and tensed his whole body in supreme resistance, while hetried to grapple with Tode in vain. 

But suddenly Tode dropped the tube, and a roar of laughter broke fromhis lips. 

"You fool!" he shouted. "I tell you I am a god, the one god, supremeabove all. Do you think to match your puny will against my own? I tellyou Lucille is mine. And for ever, Dent. Whenever we two have reachedold age, all that will be necessary for us to do will be to turn thisscrew a hair's breadth back into the past, and we are both youngagain. By holding this vessel steady in four-dimensional space, I canachieve immortality. "

"Yes, Tode, " answered Jim, "but, you see, that's the one thing thatyou haven't been able to work out yet. "

The words seemed to come automatically from Jim's lips. It was onlyafter he had spoken them that he realized they were true. For a momentTode glared at him; then suddenly, with a shriek of insane rage, heleaped from the instrument board and swung the ray tube with all hismight. 

Jim felt the blow descend with stunning force upon his head. Hereeled, flung out his arms, and toppled forward, unconscious. .. . 

CHAPTER IV

_Escape_

An intolerably bright light that seemed to sear his eyeballs was thefirst thing of which Jim was conscious. Then he became aware of hisaching head, of a sense of utter lassitude, as if he had been bruisedall over in some machine that had caught him up and held him in itsgrip for endless aeons. 

At last, despite the pain in his eyes, he managed to get his eyelidsopen. He tried to struggle to his feet, only to discover that he wasfirmly bound with what appeared to be tough creepers, pliant as ropes. 

After the lapse of a few minutes, during which he struggled with thereceding waves of unconsciousness, he came to a realization of hissurroundings. That light that had so distressed him--though theeffects were now beginning to pass off--was a pillar of smoke andflame, shooting out of the crater of a volcano about a mile away, across a valley. 

He was lying in the entrance to a cave, pegged out on his back, andbound by the tough creepers to the stakes driven into the ground. Upto the mouth of the cave grew huge tree-ferns, cattails, cycads, andsuch growths as existed in earlier ages in the warm, moist regions ofthe world. 

Beneath the level of the cave a heavy white fog completely shroudedthe valley, extending up to within a short distance of the volcanoopposite. But on the upper slopes of the volcano the sunlight played, making its crater a sheen of glassy lava, intolerably bright. 

Beyond the volcano Jim could see what looked like an expanse of ocean. 

 * * * * *

He groaned, and at the sound a creature came shambling forward, carrying what looked like a huge melon in either hand. Jim recognizedthe Drilgo, Cain. 

Chattering and mumbling, Cain placed one of the fruits to Jim's mouth. It was a sort of bread-fruit, but he was too nauseated to eat, andrejected it with disgust. Cain offered him the second fruit. 

It was a hollow gourd, the interior filled with a clear fluid. Jimdrank greedily as the Drilgo put it to his lips. The contents werelike water, but slightly acid. Jim felt refreshed. He looked abouthim. 

The Drilgo uttered a chattering call, and immediately a host of thesavages swarmed into the cave. Men--undoubtedly men, in spite of thebrow ridges and the receding foreheads, carrying long spears, consisting of chipped and pointed heads of stone, with holes bored inthem, through which long bands of creepers passed, fastening themfirmly to the shaft. 

Chattering and gesticulating, the Drilgoes surrounded Jim as he layhelpless on the ground. Their savage faces, their rolling eyes, thethreatening gestures that they made with their spears, convinced Jimthat his end was a foregone conclusion. 

But suddenly a distant rumbling sound was heard, increasing rapidly involume. The floor of the cave vibrated; masses of rock dropped fromthe walls. The light of the volcano across the valley was suddenlyobscured in an immense cloud of black smoke. The twilight within thecave was succeeded by almost impenetrable darkness. 

Shrieking in terror, the Drilgoes bolted, while Jim lay straining athis ropes, expecting each moment to be crushed by the masses of rockthat were falling all about him. 

Suddenly a soft whisper came to Jim through the darkness: "Jim! Areyou safe! Where are you? I can't see you! Speak to me!"

It was Lucille's voice, and Jim called back, husky and tremulous inthe sheer joy that had succeeded his anticipation of instant death. 

 * * * * *

Then he felt the girl kneeling at his side, and heard her hacking athis bonds. A whole minute passed before the stone knife was able tosever the last of the stout withes, however. 

Then Jim was swaying on his feet, and Lucille's arms were about him, and for a few moments their fears were forgotten in the renewal oftheir love. 

"I heard what that devil said to you last night, " the girl said. "Hemeans to kill you with awful tortures. He is away now, on some task orother, but he'll be back at any moment. We must get away at once--wethree. Dad's in another cave not far away, and his guards bolted afterthe earthquake. "

The earth was still rumbling, and the cavern still vibrating, but itwas clear that there was no time to lose. As soon as the quakesubsided the Drilgoes would return. Guided by Lucille, Jim groped hisway through the cavern. The girl called softly at intervals, andpresently Jim heard old Parrish's answering call. Then the old man'sform appeared in silhouette against the dark. 

"I've got Jim, " Lucille whispered. "Are you ready, dad?"

"Yes, yes, I'm ready, " chattered the old man. "Now's our chance. Iknow a place where we can hide in the thick forests, where the Ray ofthe Atlanteans cannot penetrate the mists. Let's go! Let's go!"

Gripping hands, the three started back toward the point where a faintpatch of darkness showed out the entrance to the cavern. They werenearing it when another and more violent shock flung them upon theirfaces. 

Huge masses of rock came hurtling down from the roof and sides of thecavern, and again the three seemed to escape by a miracle. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly a huge shaft of fire shot from the crater opposite, evolvinginto an inverted cone that made the whole land dazzlingly bright. Itpierced the mists in the valley underneath, and by that light Jimcould see a great wave of lava streaming down the mountain sides, likesoup spilled out of a bowl. 

A gush of black smoke followed, and the light went out. 

"Now!" gasped Parrish, and, clinging to one another, the three dartedout of the cavern's entrance. Another terrific shock sent themstumbling and reeling and sprawling down the side of the mountain. Jimheard old Parrish wailing, and, as the shock subsided, groped his wayto his side. 

"You hurt?" he shouted. 

"Lucille, Lucille, " moaned the old man. "She's dead! A big rockcrushed her. I wish I was dead too. "

Jim called Lucille's name frantically, and to his immense reliefheard her crying faintly out of the darkness. He rushed to her sideand held her in his arms. 

"Where are you hit, darling?"

"I'm--all right, " she panted. "I was stunned for a moment. I--can--goon now. "

But she went limp in Jim's arms, and Jim picked her up and stoodirresolute, until he heard Parrish shambling toward him over theheaving ground. 

"She's not hurt, I think, only fainted, " said Jim. "Which way, Parrish? You lead us. "

"Down the slope, " panted Parrish. "We'll be in the ferns in a minute. We can hide there for a while, till she's able to walk. God help usall! And I was once Professor of Physical Chemistry at Columbia!"

The outcry might have seemed comical under other circumstances; as itwas, Jim heartily re-echoed old Parrish's sentiments in his heart. 

The last shock was subsiding in faint earth tremors. The two menplunged down into the heavy fog, which quickly covered them, Jimcarrying Lucille in his arms. He felt the ferny undergrowth all abouthim, the thick boles of tree-ferns emerged out of the mist. 

"We can stop here for a while, " panted Parrish. "Crouch down! They'llnever find us in this fog, and in a few minutes, when Lucille'sbetter, we can go on. "

 * * * * *

"You must tell me where we are and what our chances are, " said Jim, after again ascertaining that Lucille was unharmed. 

"I'll tell you, Dent, as quick as I can. It's the place where I'vespent five years of hell as the slave of that devil, Tode. I neverdreamed, when we were working on the old Atom Smasher, that he hadadapted it to travel in the fourth dimension. He's taken us backtwelve thousand years or so to the island of Atlantis. History hasn'tbegun yet. Atlantis is the only civilization in the world. The restare Drilgoes, Neanderthal men, wandering in the forests, and still intheir stone age. 

"It's true, Dent, what old Plato learned from the Egyptian priests. Atlantis has been slowly sinking for thousands of years, and allthat's left now is the one great island that we're on. Nearly all theAtlanteans, the Cro-Magnon men, have perished, except for a few whohave crossed in ships to the coasts of France and Spain. They'll bethe founders of modern Europe--Basques and Iberians, and Bretons andWelshmen. Our ancestors! It makes my brain reel to think of it!"

"Go on! Go on!" said Jim. 

"There's a great city on the island, known as Atlantis too. As big asLondon or New York. With flying-machines and temples and art galleriesand big ships that they're building to carry them away when the nextsubsidence comes. They know they're doomed, for every few days there'san eruption now. 

"Tode means to make himself master of Atlantis, and transport it intoanother epoch by means of the Atom Smasher. But he's never managed toenter. He's made himself a god in the eyes of the Drilgoes, thesavages who inhabit these forests. He's planning to lead them againstthe city, and he's got an army of thousands from all parts of theinterior, who worship him as divine. 

 * * * * *

"The Atlanteans are unwarlike. They've forgotten how to fight in theirthousands of years of peace. But they've got a Ray ten times as strongas Tode's, that brings instant death to everything it touches. Itshrivels it up. It's a different principle. I don't understand it, butit's this Ray that keeps the Drilgoes from capturing the city. 

"Tode's got a laboratory inside the cave, fitted up with apparatusthat he brought from Chicago, the world capital of the year 3000 A. D. , after disintegrating the atoms and recombining them. But he hasn'tsucceeded altogether. He hasn't learned everything. The future isn'tquite clear, like the past. There's a dark cloud moves across thespectral lines and blurs them. I think it's the element of freewill--or God!"

"I know, " Jim answered. "He can't hold that boat steady infour-dimensional space, as he pretends he can. If he could, it wouldmean that man was wholly master of his destiny. He can't and he neverwill. 

"There's an unknown quantity comes in, Parrish. It is God, and that'swhat's going to beat him in the end. "

"I've not been as idle as Tode thinks, " said Parrish, with a senileleer. "I know more about the Atom Smasher than he dreams of. He thinksme just an old fool, the remnants of whose brains are useful to him inhis laboratory. That's why he's kept me alive so far. He'll find outhis mistake, " he chuckled. "I have something Tode doesn't dream of. "

Suddenly Parrish's air of intense seriousness vanished. He chuckledand fumbled in his rags. Jim felt a small object like a lever pressedinto his hand and then withdrawn. 

"It's death, Dent, " chuckled old Parrish. "The concentrated essence ofthe destructive principle. It's a lever I fitted into a concealedgroove in the Atom Smasher unknown to Tode. This lever has a universaljoint and connects with a hidden chamber, and when pulled willcatapult the annihilated components of a small quantity of uranium inany direction we desire. The release of the slumbering energy of thisuranium will produce an explosion of proportions beyond the wildestdreams of engineers--perhaps, one great enough to throw the Earth outof its orbit!"

"Uranium!. .. Breaking up its components!" gasped Jim. "You mean youcan actually do that?"

"Yes!" chuckled Parrish. "I'm keeping it for the day when Tode becomesa god. When he's steadied the boat in time-space and halted the marchof the past, and when he's got Lucille--then, Dent, I shall so pullthe lever that it will release the energy straight at Tode--anddestroy the Atom-Smasher, ourselves, and even, perhaps, the wholeEarth!"

And he burst into a peal of such wild laughter that Jim realized theold man's wits were gone. 

 * * * * *

Was it true, that amazing story? It was difficult to know, and yetanything seemed possible in this amazing world into which Jim hadsuddenly been thrown. 

The vast pall of smoke cast out by the volcano was beginning tosubside. Slowly a spectral light began to filter through the valley. Through the fog Jim could see glimpses of the ferny undergrowth, thegiant tree-ferns and cycads that towered aloft. It was like a pictureof the earth when the mastodons, the grass-eaters and the meat-eatersdisputed for its supremacy. 

Jim bent over Lucille. He saw her stir, he heard her murmur his name. Suddenly she sat up, fixed her eyes on his, and shuddered. 

"I'm all right, Jim. Let's go, " she said. "I can walk now. "

She staggered to her feet. Jim put out his hand to support her, butshe shook her head. Jim touched old Parrish on the arm. He started anduttered a wild screech; then seemed to come to himself and rose. 

But that screech of his was re-echoed from the mountainside above. Other voices took up the echoes. Lucille clutched at Jim in a frenzyof fear. 

"The Drilgoes!" she whispered. "They're on our trail!"

Seizing old Parrish by the arm, Jim started to drag him into therecesses of the fern forest. Suddenly the bestial face of a Drilgoappeared. 

A yell broke from the man's throat. The hairy arm shot back. Jim sawthe stone tip of the long spear poised overhead. He leaped forward, delivering a blow in the man's midriff with all the strength of hisright arm. 

 * * * * *

The Drilgo grunted and doubled forward, the spear falling from hishand. The heavy head of stone embedded itself in the soft ground, sothat the spear remained upright. As the man collapsed he yelled at thetop of his voice. 

"This way! This way!" gibbered old Parrish, suddenly alert. 

But now the undergrowth all about them was alive with Drilgoes. Thethree dodged and doubled like hunted hares. High overhead somethingbegan to clack with a sound like that made by a woodpecker drilling atree, but infinitely louder. 

And out of the void above came Tode's voice, shouting commands to theDrilgoes in their own language. 

Suddenly a column of fire shot up from the volcano, infusing the whitemists with a reddish glare. Overhead the three could see Tode. He wasflying with a pair of mechanical wings strapped to his shoulders, notmore than two hundred feet above them. With a shout of triumph heswooped down. In his hand was a small cylinder, about the mouth ofwhich a phosphorescent violet light was beginning to play. 

"I've got you, Dent, " he screamed in triumph, hovering above thethree, while the wings drummed and vibrated till they seemed the mereplay of light and shadow about Tode's shoulders. "Halt, or I'll blastyour body and soul to hell! Halt, or I'll kill _her_!"

The deadly tube was pointing steadily at Lucille's body as Todehovered ten feet overhead, perfectly still save for the whirringwings. The three stopped dead, and Tode, with a shout of triumph, began calling the Drilgoes, who swarmed forward out of theundergrowth. 

Huge brown bodies, nude save for their skins of jungle-cat or serpent, they emerged, quickly forming a ring about the three prisoners. Todefluttered to the ground. 

"Fools, did you think you could escape that way?" he asked. "As for you, Dent. I'm going to convince you of the reality of four-dimensional spaceas you would not be convinced in the old days. Do you know what I'm goingto do with you? I'm going to strip the skin from you with the ray, andtake you into the anatomical room at Columbia University and leave youthere as an exhibit, Dent!"

Tode grinned like a madman. But Jim was looking past him, at somethingthat had suddenly appeared upon the far horizon. 

 * * * * *

It was a round disc of bluish white, a disc like the moon, butslightly smaller, a disc that flickered as if it had an eyelid thatwas being winked repeatedly. Simultaneously screams broke from thethroats of all the Drilgoes. They stampeded. 

Tode whirled about and saw. With a curse he leaped into the air andwhirred away. 

Out of that disc a slender, blue-white beam shot suddenly, driving apathway through the fog, and disclosing the dark depths of the valley. 

"The Eye! The Eye!" screeched Parrish. "Down on the ground! Down!Down!"

He dropped, and Jim caught Lucille and flung himself headlong withher. To and fro overhead, but only a few feet above them, moved thesearchlight. Shrieks broke from the Drilgoes' throats as theyscattered through the jungle. 

Everywhere that ray moved, trees and undergrowth simply disappeared. Abunch of Drilgoes, caught by it, were obliterated in an instant. Greatgaps were left through the undergrowth as the ray passed. 

It faded as quickly as it had come, and instantly old Parrish was onhis feet, dragging at his daughter. 

"Now! Now!" he babbled, heading along one of the burned tracks throughthe undergrowth. 

Jim seized Lucille and the two raced in the wake of old Parrish. Behind them they could hear the Drilgoes shouting, but a dense, impenetrable darkness was already beginning to settle down over thevalley. They lost the track and went crashing through the ferns, onand on until all was silence about them. 

Suddenly Parrish went down like a log. He lay breathing heavily, completely exhausted. When Jim spoke to him a feeble muttering was theonly answer. Jim and Lucille dropped to the ground exhausted besidehim. 

CHAPTER V

_The Eye of Atlantis_

For perhaps half an hour the three lay there, hearing nothing. Itseemed to be night, for the darkness was impenetrable, save for thelurid flashes of fire from the volcano. Parrish, who was slowlyrecovering his strength, was mumbling incessantly. It was withdifficulty that Jim recalled him to a realization of his surroundings. 

"Where is the city of Atlantis?" he asked him. 

"Over there, " mumbled Parrish. "Behind the volcano. Why do you askme?"

"I'm thinking of going there. "

"Eh? Going there? You're mad. The Eye will see you, the Eye that cansee for a hundred miles. They'll turn the Ray on you. Nothing is toosmall for the Eye. And they watch night and day. "

"The Eye is off now. "

"It's never off. The Eye is dark. It grows white only when they areabout to use the Ray. Perhaps the Eye is watching us now. "

"Nevertheless, " said Jim, "I think we would do well to try to enterthe city. We can't live here in the jungle at the mercy of theseDrilgoes. "

"It is impossible to enter. All strangers are killed by theAtlanteans. "

"Dad, " interposed Lucille, "I think we'd better do what Jim suggests. One of us must decide. "

"My idea is that you take us to some place where we can get a view ofthe city, " said Jim. "Then we can make up our minds what to do. We'vegot to get somewhere out of this jungle. "

 * * * * *

Parrish rose to his feet, mumbling. "If we go round the base of thevolcano we can see Atlantis, " he said. "It's always light there. Inthe daytime they drive away the fogs by some means they've got, and atnight they have an artificial sun. But we'll be killed, we'll all bekilled. "

Mumbling and muttering, he began groping his way through theundergrowth in the direction of the volcano, whose flashes were againbecoming more frequent, affording a means of directing their route. Obscure rumblings were again beginning to shake the earth. For an hourthe three picked their way steadily upward through the ferns, untilthe ground became more open. 

They were approaching the base of the volcano, whose side now toweredabove them, the upper part glassy with vitreous lava. 

Suddenly Parrish, who was still leading, stopped and began to tremblewith fear. Stepping to his side, Jim heard the low muttering of voicesnot far away. 

Very cautiously he moved forward through the thin fern scrub, untilthe glow of burning embers caught his sight. He stopped, hearing thevoices more distinctly, and again moved forward. 

Three Drilgoes, huge, bestial men, and evidently an outpost, weresquatting around the ashes, devouring something with noisy gusto. 

Softly as Jim had moved, their acute ears had caught the sound of hisfootsteps. They rose, still holding what they were eating in theirhands, and, grasping their stone spears, moved in three separate waystoward the edge of the clearing. 

The man nearest Jim uttered a guttural exclamation and, after sniffinga moment, began to lope in his direction. Suddenly he stopped short, petrified with astonishment and fear at the sight of a man who, instinct told him, was neither Atlantean nor of his own kind. 

 * * * * *

Jim leaped, tackling him about the knees, and brought him heavily tothe ground. As the Drilgo fell, the spear clattered from his hand, butfrom his snakeskin girdle he pulled a long, curved knife of chippedobsidian, sharp as a razor. 

Jim grasped the Drilgo's wrist, but in a moment he saw that he was nomatch for the creature in strength. He drew back his right arm anddelivered a punch to the solar plexus with all his strength. 

As the Drilgo's hand grew limp he snatched away the knife. There wasno helping what he did for the two others were close upon him. 

A thrust, a slashing blow, and the Drilgo was weltering in hislife-blood. A backward leap, and Jim evaded the flung spear by ahair's breadth. 

Knife in hand he leaped forward, and, dodging in beneath the longshaft of the weapon, got in a slash that almost cut the Drilgo's bodyin two. 

The third Drilgo, seeing his two companions in their death-throes, flung away his spear and fled with loud howls into the jungle. 

Jim stepped back. Lucille and her father were already almost at hisheels. "It's all right, " he called. "Come this way!" He led themthrough the ferny growth in such a manner that they should not see thetwo dead bodies. Nevertheless, he felt that Lucille knew. 

"Let's see what they were cooking, " he said. 

But again he turned quickly. He could not know for sure what fleshthat was, roasting and scorching on the embers, and he had no desireto know. It might have been monkey, but . .. He turned away, and as hedid so, Parrish picked up several round objects that were lying alittle distance away. 

"These are good to eat, " he said. "A sort of bread-fruit. I've livedon it for five years, " he added with a sort of grotesque pathos. 

They munched the fruit as they proceeded up the mountain, and found itsatisfying. Parrish seemed more himself again, though he stillmuttered at intervals. Lucille clung closely to Jim as they proceeded. 

 * * * * *

They were treading on lava now, vitreous, and smooth as glass. It wasimpossible to proceed further in that direction. They turned theirsteps around the base in the direction of the sea. 

After another hour, during which their way was lit by almostcontinuous lurid flashes from the crater, a patch of illumination, apparently out at sea, began to become visible. A half hour more, andthey were rounding the volcano's base, and suddenly it burst uponthem, a stupendous spectacle that drew an exclamation of amazementfrom Jim's lips. 

That low, flat background was the sea, the sound of whose breakers wasfaintly audible. Between sea and land ran a narrow, slender causeway, perhaps a mile in length. And beyond that, set on a small island, wasthe most splendid city that Jim could have imagined. 

Like New York--very like New York, with its mighty towers, but moresymmetrical, sloping upward from the sea toward a towering rampart atthe heart of it, crowned with huge domes and minarets and serpentineramps and mighty blocks of stone that must have sheltered as manyoccupants as New York's highest skyscrapers. 

The whole was snow-white, and gleamed softly in an artificial lightdispensed from an enormous artificial planet that seemed to hoverabove the ramparts. 

"God!" whispered Jim in awe as he gazed at the great city. 

"You cannot cross that causeway, " whimpered old Parrish. "It's deathto try. One sweep of the Ray will blot out every living thing. "

"Hush! Listen!" came from Lucille's lips. "Something's moving downthere!"

 * * * * *

The distant murmur of voices, the indescribable "feel" of theproximity of other human beings told Jim that they were in imminentdanger. He glanced about him. A little overhead was an outcrop ofenormous boulders, standing up like a little fortress above the smoothlava. 

"Get behind there!" Jim whispered. 

They turned and ran, slipping and stumbling up the smooth slope. Reaching the boulders, they ensconced themselves hastily behind them. Jim peered out through a crevice between two of the largest stones. The sound of moving things became more audible. 

Then, as a flash of flame shot from the crater overhead, Jim saw ablack human horde creeping like an array of ants around the base ofthe mountain not far beneath. 

Just like an army of warrior ants it seemed to flow onward, in perfectorder. And in the midst of it a faint violet light began to bevisible. 

Parrish seized Jim's arm, shaking with terror. "You know what that is, Dent?" he whimpered. 

"It's Tode's Drilgoes, moving for a night attack upon Atlantis, "answered Jim. "And that thing in the middle is the Atom Smasher. "

 * * * * *

It seemed hours before the last of the serried ranks of Drilgoes hadpassed. By the light of a lurid flash from the volcano Jim could seethe column winding toward the causeway. Then all was shrouded inimpenetrable darkness, save for the snow-soft city upon the island. 

"What are we going to do?" chattered old Parrish. "I wish I was backin Tode's cave. He gave me food and let me help with his worksometimes. I'll die here. We'll never get away. We'll never getanywhere. "

"We're safer here than anywhere else, " answered Jim. "We'll have tostay till morning, or--God, look at that!"

Out of the ramparts of the city the round, blue-white disc of the Eyehad suddenly disclosed itself. And simultaneously a violet flare shotup above the moving hosts of the Drilgoes in the middle of thecauseway. 

Out of the center of the Eye that blinding searchlight streamed. Andthe pillar of violet fire rose up to counter it, clove it in two, as aman cuts off the tentacle of a cuttlefish, and left it gropinghelplessly above the heads of the Drilgoes. 

 * * * * *

To and fro wavered the blue-white beam, and like a protective wall theviolet column spread and extended, till the air was interlaced withthe play of the two colors. Streaks of white shot through streaks ofpurple and black neutral clouds twirled, swirling in ghostlike forms. It was a scene inconceivably beautiful, and it was impossible torealize what must be happening out there. 

Men must be dying, withering like stubble in the blue-white flames, whenever they caught them. And yet, under that play of colors, Jimcould see the vast host crawling forward to the assault. 

 * * * * *

He held his breath. It was sublime and terrible, and on the result ofthat conflict depended--what? What difference, when all this wasforgotten history, antedating the written records of the human race?

Then of a sudden the blue-white rays were seen to win. They werebeating down the violet light. Like living fingers they pierced thatprotective wall, flinging it back, until only the tall central pillarremained. And then for the first time the sound of combat becameaudible. 

A groan of despair, of defeat, of hopelessness. The black stream wasrecoiling, turning upon itself. In the vivid glare of the white lightit could be seen dissolving, breaking into a thousand pieces, streaming back toward the land. And, as it broke, the blue-white lightpursued, eating its way and blasting all it met. Atlantis hadtriumphed. 

Another sound was audible. From the city it came, a whirring as ofinnumerable grasshoppers, increasing till it sounded once more likethe tapping of innumerable woodpeckers. Suddenly the night broke intowhirling balls of fire. 

Lucille cried out. Jim leaped to his feet to see more clearly. 

"It's men with wings, " he cried. "Scores of them. They're hurlingsomething at the Drilgoes!"

 * * * * *

The clacking of the wing mechanism filled the air. Now the fugitivesfrom the Drilgo host were streaming along the base of the mountainunderneath, seeking the safety of the jungles, and over them, ridingthem, harrying them, flew the Atlantean birdmen, hurling their fieryballs. And where the balls fell, conflagrations of cold fire seemed tostart and run like mercury, and shrivel up everything they touched. 

But the birdmen were not without casualties of their own. Here andthere one could be seen to drop, and then the massed Drilgoes wouldturn savagely upon him with their stone-pointed spears. The fight wascoming very close now. The savage cries of the Drilgoes filled thenight. 

A ball of fire broke hardly fifty yards away from where the three werecrouching. A birdman fluttered down like a wounded hawk and laya-sprawl just underneath the rampart of boulders. Jim surmounted them, ran down the slope of the mountainside, and bent over the dying man. He was hideously wounded by the thrust of a Drilgo spear--whetherbecause the mechanism had failed, or because he had swooped too low, Jim could not determine. As Jim bent over him he looked up at him. 

A youth in his teens, with the face and build of a Greek warrior, aworthy ancestor of European man. Jim looked at him and shuddered. "Mygrandfather four hundred generations removed, " he thought. 

Seeing that this was no Drilgo, with eyes widened by the anticipationof death, the Atlantean smiled, and died. 

Jim detached the straps that held the wings to his shoulders andexamined them. They were multi-hinged, built of innumerable layers oflaminated wood, which seemed to have been subjected to some specialtreatment. In the base of each, just where it fitted to the curve ofthe shoulder-blade, a tiny light was burning. 

 * * * * *

Jim looped the straps about his arms and walked back to the rampart. Old Parrish saw him and screamed. Lucille cried out. 

"I'm going to try to get the Atom Smasher, " said Jim, pointing to thethin spire of violet flame that was still visible in the center of thecauseway. "It's our only chance. You must stay here. If I live, I'llreturn. If I don't return--"

But he knew that he must return. Nothing could kill him, becauseLucille would be waiting for him behind that rampart of stones uponthe bare, vitreous mountainside. 

"I'm going to get the Atom Smasher, " Jim repeated. "In these wingsI'll be taken for Atlantean. I'll--bring it back. " He spoke withfaltering conviction. And yet there was nothing else to do. Everythingdepended upon his being able to bring back the Atom Smasher and takeLucille and her father away. 

"I think you're right, Jim, " answered Lucille. "We'll--wait here tillyou--come--back. "

Her voice died away in a sob. Jim bent and kissed her. Then he beganexamining the mechanism of the wings. It did not appear difficult. Aleather strap fastened around the body. Through this strap ran cordsoperated by levers upon the breast, and there was a knob in a groovethat looked as if it controlled the starting of the mechanism. 

"I'll be back, " said Jim. 

And suddenly the Eye appeared again, and with it there sounded oncemore the whir of wings. 

"Down!" shouted Jim. 

 * * * * *

He was too late. A score of birdmen shot out of the dark and hoveredover them. Next moment they had descended to the ground. Lucille andParrish were seized, and Jim, struggling furiously, quickly foundhimself equally helpless in their grasp. 

The accents of the Atlanteans as they spoke to one another were softand liquid, their faces were refined and gentle, but their strengthwas that of athletes. Jim saw Lucille and Parrish lifted into the air;next moment he himself was raised in the arms of one of the birdmen, who shot upward like an arrow and headed a course back toward thecity, carrying Jim as if he had been as light as a child. 

CHAPTER VI

_Human Sacrifice_

In a great open space, flanked by temples and colonnades, the flighthad come to rest. There, under the soft artificial light that made thewhole city as bright as day, Jim, Lucille, and her father were setdown before a sort of rostrum, on which were gathered the dignitariesof the city. 

Jim's hopes were rising fast, for between the Atlanteans and thesavage Drilgoes there was as much difference as between a modernAmerican and a blackfellow from the Australian bush. These men werecivilized to a degree that even modern America has not attained. 

Nowhere was there a speck of dirt to be seen. Vehicles movedsoundlessly along the wide streets on either side of this centralmeeting-place, and the whole city was roofed with glass, through whichcould be seen the brilliant moon and stars--invisible from themist-filled valley without. 

 * * * * *

Soft garments of white wool clothed men and women alike, fashionedsomething like togas, but cut short at the knee, leaving the lowerpart of the leg bare and disclosing the sandaled feet. The hair waslong and flowed about the shoulders. But what struck Jim most forciblywas the look of utter gentleness and benignity upon these faces. 

"I guess we've fallen into pretty good hands after all, " he whisperedto Parrish. 

But one of the dignitaries upon the platform, an elderly man with aface reminiscent of William Jennings Bryan in his inspired moments, was leaning forward out of his curved chair and addressing the oldman, and, to Jim's astonishment, Parrish was answering. 

But these were not the liquid accents of the Atlanteans. The wordsresembled the barking of a dog, and across Jim's brain there suddenlyflashed the explanation. The dignitary was speaking in the tongue ofthe Drilgoes, which Parrish, of course, would have learned in his fiveyears of captivity. 

Suddenly Parrish turned to Jim. "He wants to know where we come from, "he said. "I've told him from a far country. He thinks we'reambassadors from some of the parts of Europe that the Atlanteans whosailed away some years ago landed at. It's no use trying toexplain--they don't seem to have succeeded in inventing an AtomSmasher for themselves. "

Jim nodded, and the colloquy went on and on, while the Atlanteanslistened with languid interest, their kind and smiling faces seemingto exude benignity. At length the session seemed to have ended. 

Parrish wore a wide grin. "Everything's coming right, dear, " he toldLucille. "The old chap says we are to be the guests of the city eitherfor a night or for a week. It's something to do with the moon, andthere seems to be a full moon to-night. Some quaint superstition orother. And then I guess we'll have a chance to get away in the AtomSmasher. I've learned something of the mechanism, and it won't be hardto operate it. We've fallen into good hands. "

 * * * * *

A squad of four soldiers or policemen, with shorter robes and whatlooked like truncheons in their hands, made signs to the three toaccompany them. Amid mutual bows, the city's guests filled into asmall court-way, closed at the further end, on which a number ofAtlanteans were standing. 

While Jim was wondering what the next move was to be, to hisastonishment the whole courtyard began to rise slowly up the walls ofthe tall buildings on either side. 

"An elevator!" gasped Lucille. "Now I do feel that everything iscoming out all right, Jim, dear. "

Jim did not question the psychology of this. He pressed her handtenderly. Already Tode and the past were becoming a bad dream. 

"Did you say anything about the Atom Smasher, Parrish?" he asked. 

"No, I thought it better not to, " replied the old scientist. "You see, they know it only as a force that neutralizes the blue-white ray. Bestnot to let them know we're sailing for home in it. "

"I think that was wise, " answered Jim, and just then the risingcourt-way came to a stop level with the top story of the greatbuilding at one side. 

Smiling courteously, the guards invited the three to precede theminside an enormous hall, supported on pillars of gleaming stoneresembling alabaster. In the center was a small, low table, triangularin shape, with three of the low, curved chairs. The guards invited thethree to be seated. 

Almost immediately smiling servitors brought in fruits on platters ofporcelain, dishes of cooked vegetables, somewhat like the modern ones, but seasoned and flavored with delicious herbs. The staple dish wassomething like an oval banana, but infinitely more succulent. Thethree fell to and made a hearty meal, which was washed down with finewines. 

"We've certainly fallen into good hands, " said Jim. "All we've got todo is to lie low, and look pleasant, and it won't be long before weget an opportunity to get hold of the Atom Smasher. "

 * * * * *

The guards, seeing that they had finished their meal, smilinglyinvited them to accompany them through a huge bronze door at one endof the hall. It swung back, disclosing complete darkness. 

Jim felt Lucille's hand upon his arm. The girl was hesitating, and fora moment Jim hesitated too, half afraid of a fall into emptiness. Thenhe heard the footsteps of the guards ahead, and went on. 

It was eery, moving there with the sound of feet in front of them, and, apart from that, utter silence. Then Lucille uttered a littlecry. 

"Jim, do you feel something pushing you?" she asked. 

"There is something--" Jim swung around, but some invisible forcecontinued to propel him forward. He moved sidewise, and the forcegently corrected him. The sound of footsteps had ceased. 

"What is it, Jim?" cried the girl. "Help me! Something's got hold ofme!"

Old Parrish was struggling close beside them. Jim panted as hewrestled with the force, but his efforts were absolutely futile. Slowly, as if slid on wires, he was propelled forward, until a cushionof air seemed to block his further progress. 

Dark as it was, and silent, Jim had the consciousness of other humanbeings about him, of a vast, unseen multitude that was watching him. 

Suddenly the droning of a chant began to fill the place, as if apriest were intoning hymns. As that chant rose and fell, voices allabout took up the echoing refrain. Jim tried to reach Lucille, but hecould move his arm only a few inches against that resilient forcepressing in on all sides of him. 

Then, in an instant, a blinding, stabbing light shot through hiseyeballs. He heard Lucille scream, old Parrish yelp, and, with eyelidsscrewed tight against the intolerable glare, fought once moredesperately and ineffectively to reach Lucille's side. 

 * * * * *

Slowly Jim managed to unscrew his eyes. He began to realize that hewas standing in what appeared to be an enormous amphitheatre. But highup, upon a narrow tongue of flooring that ran like a bridge from oneend to the other, with Lucille on his right and Parrish on his left. Nothing visible seemed to be restraining them, and yet they were assecurely held as if fastened with tight chains. 

Jim's brain reeled as he looked down. Imagine a bridge about half-wayup an amphitheatre of a hundred stories, the ground beneath packedwith human beings no larger than ants, the whole of the vast interiorlined with them, tier above tier, faces and forms increasing frompismire size below to the dimensions of the human form upon a level, and, again, fading almost to pin-points at the summit of the vastbuilding, where the soft glow of the artificial light filtered throughthe glass of the roof. 

He clutched at the air, felt the soft pressure of the force that wasrestraining him, looked at Lucille, and saw her half-unconscious withfear, leaning against it, leaning against that soft, resilient, cushionlike, invisible substance; looked at Parrish, whom the shockhad thrown into a sort of semi-catalepsy--Parrish, mouthing andstaring!

He looked forward to where the tongue of flooring ended. Here, upon astage, flanked with huge carven figures, a group was gathered. Atfirst he was unable to discern what was being enacted there, sobrilliant was the light that glared overhead. 

It was the Eye, a round disc perhaps ten feet in diameter, thatall-seeing Eye of Atlantis that guarded the great city, but how itworked Jim was totally unable to discover. He saw, however, that itwas blinking rapidly, the alternations being so swift that it was onlyjust possible to be conscious of them. Perhaps the Eye was opening andclosing ten times a second. 

Jim strained his eyes to see what was taking place on the stage at theend of the tongue on which he stood. What was it? What were they doingthere? And was that the captured Atom Smasher standing between whatlooked like grinning idols? A group of captured Drilgoes near it?

A shrill scream from Lucille echoed through the vast amphitheatre. Hereye had seen what Jim's had not yet seen--something that had shockedher into complete unconsciousness. 

A marble figure, she stood leaning against the invisible force thatkept her on her feet, and in those open, staring eyes was a look ofineffable horror. 

 * * * * *

Jim could see clearly now, for the light from the Eye was slowlydiminishing in brilliancy, or else his own eyes were growing moreaccustomed to it. Those carven figures, forming a semi-circle upon theplatform were figures of gods, squat, huge forms seeming to emerge outof the blocks of rock from which they had been fashioned. 

Hideous, gruesome carvings they were, resembling some futuristicsculpture of to-day, for the artist who had fashioned them had givenhardly more than a hint of the finished representation. It was ratheras if the masses of rock that had been transported there had becomevitalized, foreshadowing the dim yet awful beings that were some dayto emerge from them. 

Only the arms were clearly sculptured, and each of the half-dozenfigures squatting upon its haunches in that semi-circle had four ofthem. Arms that protruded so as to form an interlacing network, andthe fingers were long claws fashioned of some metal. Over the arms theshapeless heads beat down with a leering look, and from each mouthprotruded a curved tongue. 

A masterpiece of horror, that group, like the great stone figures ofthe Aztecs, or some of the hideous Indian gods. Seen under the glareof the Eye, they formed a background of horrible omen. In a flash itdawned upon Jim that these hideous figures might be gods of bloodysacrifice. 

"That's why these people seem so gentle, " he heard himself saying. "It's the--the contrast. "

He pulled himself together. Again he tried to move towards Lucille, and again that invisible force restrained him. 

Yes, it was the captured Atom Smasher upon the platform, and thoseforms grouped in front of the dignitaries were captured Drilgoes, adozen or so of them. And the concealed priest was droning a chantagain. Every other sound was hushed, but from each square foot of thegreat amphitheatre a pair of eyes was watching. 

A myriad of eyes turned upon the platform! What was going to happennext?

 * * * * *

Suddenly the priest's voice died away, and simultaneously the threedignitaries, who seemed to be officiating priests, from their solemngestures, stepped backward, passing beneath the protruding arms of theidols. There sounded the deep whir of some mechanism somewhere, andthe same invisible force that had Jim and his two companions in itscontrol suddenly began to agitate the captive Drilgoes. 

_It was shuffling them!_ It was forcing them into line, pushing hereand pulling there, in spite of the Drilgoes' terrified struggles. Theywrithed and twisted, groaning and clicking in abject terror as theywrestled with that unseen power, and all in vain. Slowly the foremostof the Drilgoes was propelled forward, inch by inch, until he stoodimmediately beneath the interlacing arms. 

And what happened next filled Jim with sick horror and loathing. Forof a sudden the arms began to move, the iron claws cut through theair--a shriek of terror and anguish broke from the Drilgo's mouth . .. And he was no longer a man, but a clawed and pulped mass of humanflesh!

"Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!" broke from the throats of the assembled multitude. 

The weaving arms had stopped. From behind them an attendant wasgathering up what had been the Drilgo in a basket. Then the mechanismhad begun again, and again that shrill cry of the spectators wasringing in Jim's ears. 

Louder still rose the shriek of old Parrish as he understood. Jim putforth all his strength in a mad effort to break free. A child wouldhave had more chance in the grip of a giant. And each time the arms ofthe gods revolved, the unseen force pushed Jim, Lucille, and Parrishnearer the platform. 

Now Jim understood. This horrible sacrifice was a part of the religionof the Atlanteans, and he, Lucille, and Parrish, were being reservedfor the final spectacle. 

And at the sight of Lucille beside him, stonily unconscious, and yetstanding, and moving like a mechanical doll, in little forwardjerks--at the sight of the girl, hardly six feet distant, and yetutterly beyond the touch of his finger-tips, Jim went mad. He wouldnot shout; he closed his lips in pride of race, pride of thatcivilization that he had left twelve thousand years ahead of him. Notlike the shrieking Drilgoes on the platform, howling as each of themin turn was forced into that maze of revolving knives. But he foughtas a madman fights. He hammered at the resilient air, while the sweatran down his face, he braced his feet upon the wooden tongue, andsought to stay his forward progress. And all the while that infernalforce moved him steadily onward. 

 * * * * *

He was on the platform now. He was traveling the same route that theDrilgoes had taken. The unseen force was shuffling him, Lucille, andParrish, pushing and pulling them. And, despite Jim's efforts, it wasLucille who was first of the three . .. And Jim second . .. And oldParrish third. .. . 

Jim heard Parrish's hoarse whisper behind him, "Death! Death! Theuranium!" He was fumbling at his breast, but the significance of thewords and gestures escaped him. He was staring ahead. Only threeliving Drilgoes of the whole number of prisoners remained alive, andsuddenly it was borne in upon Jim that he knew the last of the three. 

It was the Drilgo, Cain, who had been their companion in the AtomSmasher--there, not a dozen feet distant. Cain, his bestial face, withthe ridged eyebrows and great jaws convulsed with terror and drippingsweat. Cain, immediately in front of Lucille. 

"God, let her not wake! Let her never know!" Jim breathed. The agonywould be but momentary. And there was nothing a man could not endureif he must. He could even endure to see Lucille become--what theDrilgoes had become. It would soon be over now. 

The Eye was blinking overhead. The hideous stone faces of theAtlantean gods looked down in leering mockery. Another of the Drilgoeshad gone the same route as the others. Cain was the second now, Lucille the third victim, and he, Jim, would be the fourth. 

Gritting his teeth, Jim saw the next Drilgo propelled forward into thewhirling knives. He saw the man fling up his arms, as if to shield hishead--and then he was a man no longer, and the horrible knivesrevolved, and "Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!" cried the multitude. 

Once more the mechanism whirred. .. . Once more the arms revolved. Ahowl of terror broke from Cain's lips as he was propelled onward. .. . 

Then suddenly the whirring stopped. The arms of the stone gods, withtheir hooked, razorlike claws, to which clung particles of flesh, werearrested in mid-air. Cain, unharmed, was leaning backward, hisfeatures set in a mask of awful fear. 

Simultaneously Jim knew that the force which had held him in thrallwas gone. He flung his arms out. He was free. He grasped Lucille, heldher tightly against his breast, stood there drawing great, laboredbreaths, waiting--for what?

 * * * * *

A film was creeping over his eyes, but he was aware that the Eye hadsuddenly gone out. And out of the dark the priest was chanting. 

Then came a deep-drawn sigh from the spectators, followed by a ringingshout. In place of the Eye the full moon appeared, sailing overhead. And, holding off that deathly weakness, Jim understood. The sacrificehad ended; a new month had begun. .. . 

CHAPTER VII

_Back to Long Island_

Jim, seated beside Lucille, was listening to Cain's gruntings andchucklings as he expounded the situation to old Parrish. 

It was the day following the scene in the amphitheatre. The four hadbeen escorted back along the tongue of flooring into a hall with wallsof fretted stone and sumptuous colorings. The floor was strewn withrich rugs woven of some vegetable fibre. There were divans and lowchairs. At brief intervals, servitors, always smiling, passed carryingtrays with wines and foods. And in the corridors were always glimpsesof the guards. 

"It was the rising of the full moon saved our lives, Dent, " Parrishexplained. "It appears they have this sacrifice at each of the moon'sphases. The victims, captives or criminals, are eaten by the priests. We've got a week's respite, Dent, and then--God help us. "

Jim's arm tightened about Lucille, but the girl turned and smiled intohis face. There was no longer any fear there. And Jim swore to himselfthat he would yet find some way of outwitting their devilish captors. 

"What the devil are we supposed to be, criminals or what?" he askedher father. "Why do they smile at us all the time in that confoundedway?"

Parrish questioned the Drilgo, but apparently he was unable to explainhimself to him. "Maybe they think it an honor for us, Dent, " heanswered, "or maybe it's their idea of etiquette. Anyway, we four areto head the list when the moon's at the three-quarters. God, if onlywe could reach the Atom Smasher, I'm certain I could find out how itworks!"

 * * * * *

Jim had tried more than once to reach it. Through the colonnades atthe end of the hall he could see the mechanism standing on theplatform, always being inspected by half a dozen or so of thedignitaries of Atlantis. But all his attempts to cross that tongue offlooring had been vetoed by the guards. 

They had presented their hands to him, palms outward, and on the palmswere fine steel points, about two inches long, set into leathergauntlets. It had been impossible to try conclusions with them. 

Two days went by. Once a group of dignitaries had entered the halland, with smiles and profuse bows, inspected the prisoners. Then theyhad departed. And Jim had paced the floor, to and fro, thinkingdesperately. 

There was no sort of weapon with which to hazard an attack. Jim knewthat they were under the closest observation. He could only wait andhope. And if all else failed, he meant to hurl himself, with Lucillein his arms, off the tongue of floor into the depths below when theirtime came. 

On the third morning, after a troubled sleep induced by veryweariness, Jim was awakened by one of the guards, and started up tosee one of the bowing dignitaries before him, and Parrish and Lucillesitting up among their rugs. 

Bowing repeatedly, the smiling old man addressed some words to Jim, and then turned to Parrish. 

"He says he wants you to show him the way the Atom Smasher works, "said Parrish. "Now's our chance, Dent. He thinks it's simply anapparatus for neutralizing the blue-white ray. Don't let him guess--"

"I won't let him guess, " Jim answered. "Tell him we'll go and showhim--"

"I've told him, and he says only you are to go. He's suspicious. Saysomething quickly, Dent. "

"Tell him, " said Jim, "that I must have my two assistants and thelady. Tell him I may also need the help of some of his people. Itrequires many men to operate the machine. "

 * * * * *

Parrish translated, speaking in the Drilgo tongue, which was theironly means of communication. The Atlantean considered. Then he spokeagain. 

"He says that we three men may go, but Lucille must be left behind, "groaned Parrish. 

"The answer is no, " said Jim. 

The old dignitary, who seemed somewhat crestfallen, departed with anexpressive gesture. Jim and Parrish looked at each other. 

"That's our end, " groaned Parrish. 

"No, he'll bite, " answered Jim, with the first grin that had appearedon his countenance since their arrival. "Let's make our plans quickly. We must contrive to get Lucille inside the machine, under the pretenseof assisting with the mechanism. And Cain, of course, " he added, glancing at the goggly-eyed Drilgo. "You do your best to locate thestarting mechanism, Parrish, and signal me the moment you're ready. We'll both leap in, and the four of us will sail--God, I don't carewhere we sail to, so long as we get away from here! Into eternity, ifneed be. But I hope it's Long Island!"

Back came the dignitary with two of the guards. Smiling at Jim, heindicated by signs that the three others might accompany him. TheAtlanteans had bitten, as Jim had forecast. 

The four proceeded along the hall and over the tongue of flooring. This time the force that had previously controlled their movements wasnot in action. At the farther end of the bridge they saw the group ofdignitaries gathered about the Atom Smasher, examining it curiously. Over their heads the hooked arms of the hideous gods were raised. TheEye was darkened, as if with a curtain, and through the glass roof, high overhead, the sunlight streamed down upon the empty amphitheatre. 

 * * * * *

In spite of their smiles, the dignitaries of Atlantis were very muchon the alert, as their tense attitudes denoted. Two more guards hadappeared, and Jim saw that they were uncovering some apparatus at thebase of the Eye. They were swinging a camera-like object toward him, its lens focused upon the Atom Smasher. It was not difficult tounderstand what was in the minds of the Atlanteans. The dignitarieswere uneasy and mistrustful, and at the first suspicion of treacherythey meant to loose the blue-white Ray contained in the apparatus, andblow the Atom Smasher and the group about it to destruction. 

Jim intercepted a sign from Parrish, indicating that he was to makepretense of assisting him. He bent over the machine, Lucille besidehim. Parrish was busily examining the wheels and levers. He wasadjusting the thumbscrews, moving the needles along the dials. 

One of the Atlanteans spoke, and Cain translated into "Drilgo" forParrish's benefit. Parrish answered. Then, without raising his head, the old man said quietly, "I've located the starting lever, Dent. Youand Lucille get inside quickly and pretend you're doing something tothe machinery. "

They stepped over the bow of the boat and stood beside Parrish, whocontinued examining the wheels. "We mustn't forget Cain, " whisperedthe girl to her father. "Oh, I hope he understands!"

But there was no direct evidence that Cain did understand, and Parrishdared not warn him in "Drilgo, " for fear one of the Atlanteans mightunderstand the language. Cain was standing close beside the boat. Buthe was not in the boat. 

Again one of the Atlanteans shot a question at Parrish. Parrishbeckoned to Cain, and awaited the translation. He answered. 

Each moment was growing tenser. It was impossible that the Atlanteanscould fail to understand what was being planned. The only savingchance was that they did not realize the possibilities of escape thatthe vessel offered. A full minute went by. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly Parrish raised his head. "I've got it fixed, I think, Dent, "he said. "I'm going to count. When I reach 'three, ' seize Cain andpull him aboard. "

Jim nodded. The uneasiness was increasing. The guards at thecamera-like object were each holding some sort of mechanical accessoryin their hands. It looked like a small sphere of glass, and itconnected with the apparatus by means of a hollow tube of fibre. Jimguessed that in an instant the Ray could be made to dart out of thelens. It would be quick work--as nearly as possible instantaneouswork. 

"Ready, Dent?" asked Parrish in an even voice. In this crisis the oldman had become astonishingly calm. He seemed the calmest of the lot. "One!"

Jim beckoned to Cain, who came toward him, his eyes goggling ininquiry. 

"Two!"

Jim reached out and took Cain by the arm. There was a sharp questionfrom the Atlantean who had spoken before. 

"Three!"

With all his force Jim yanked Cain over the edge of the boat. TheDrilgo stumbled and fell headlong with a howl of terror. Butheadlong--inside. 

What happened was practically instantaneous. A sudden whir of themechanism, a violet glow from the funnel, the smell of chlorine--aflash of blinding blue-white light. The Atlantean guards had fired--aquarter-second too late!

The thump, thump of the electrical discharge died away. The four werein the boat, whirling away through space. Cain was rising to hisknees, a woe-begone expression on his face. And there was a clean cut, with charred, black edges along one side of the boat, showing how nearthe Atlanteans had come to success. 

 * * * * *

The relief, after the hideous suspense of the past days, was almosttoo much for the three white people. "We're free, we're going backhome!" cried Jim exultantly, as he caught Lucille in his arms. And shesurrendered her lips to his, while the tears streamed down her checks. Old Parrish, at the instrument board, looked up, smiling andchuckling. Even Cain, understanding that they were not to be hacked tobits with knives, gurgled and grinned all over his black face. 

"How long will it take us to get back?" Jim asked Parrish after awhile. 

"I--I'm not quite sure, my boy, " the old man replied. "You see--Ihaven't quite familiarized myself with the machine as yet. "

"But we'll get back all right?" asked Jim. 

"Well, we--we're headed in the right direction, " answered Parrish. "You see, my boy, it's rather an intricate table of logarithmiccalculations that that scoundrel has pasted on this board. The greatdanger appears to be that of coming within the orbit of the giantplanet Jupiter. Of course, I'm trying to keep within the orbit of theEarth, but there is a danger of being deflected onto Pallas, Ceres, orone of the smaller asteroids, and finding ourselves upon a rock inspace. "

Jim and Lucille looked at Parrish in consternation. "But you don'thave to leave the Earth, do you?" Jim asked. 

"Unfortunately, it's pretty hard sticking to the Earth, my lad, " saidParrish. "You see, Earth has moved a good many million miles throughspace since the time of Atlantis. "

But both Jim and Lucille noticed that Parrish was already speaking ofAtlantis as if it was in the past. They drew a hopeful augury fromthat. And then there was nothing to do but resign themselves to thatuniversal greyness--and to hope. 

 * * * * *

They noticed that Cain seemed to be watching Parrish's movements withunusual interest. The Neanderthal man seemed fascinated by the play ofthe dials, the whir of the wheels and gyroscopes. 

"Are you setting a course, dad?" asked Lucille presently. "I mean, doyou know just where we are?"

"To tell you the truth, my dear, " answered her father, "I don't. I'mrelying on some markings that Tode made on the chart--certaincombinations of figures. God only knows where they'll take us to. ButI'm hoping that by following them we shall find ourselves back on LongIsland in the year 1930. 

"No, that rascal could hardly have written down those figures to nopurpose. They seem to me to comprise a course, both going andreturning. But the calculations are very intricate, especially in the_time_ dimension. I've nearly reached the last row now. Then, we shallhave arrived, or--we sha'n't. "

Jim and Lucille sat down again. There was nothing that they could do. But somehow their hopes of reaching Long Island in the year of grace1930 had grown exceedingly slim. Everything depended upon whether ornot Tode had meant those figures to represent the course back to thestarting point or not. 

A desperate hope--that was all that remained to them. They watchedParrish as his eyes wandered along the rows of figures, while hisfingers moved the micrometer screws. And then he looked up. 

"We're reaching the end of our course, " he said. "We're going to landsomewhere. God knows where it will be. We must hope--that's all that'sleft us. "

His hands dropped from the dials. He pressed a lever. The blur ofnights and days began to slow. A column of vivid violet light shotfrom the funnel. 

"Grip tight!" shouted Parrish. 

Thump, thump! The Atom Smasher was vibrating violently. A jar threwJim against Lucille. It was coming to a standstill. Trees appeared. Jim uttered a shout. He stepped across to Parrish and wrung his hand. He put his arms about Lucille and kissed her. 

They were back at the Vanishing Place, and all their sufferings seemedto be of the past. .. . 

CHAPTER VIII

_A Fruitless Journey_

"Why don't you stop the boat, Parrish?"

"I'm trying to, lad!"

The Atom Smasher was still vibrating, even more violently than before. A column of violet light was pouring from her funnel. The pool, themud, the walls of heaped up water were discernible, but all quiveringand reproduced, line after line, to infinity. It was like looking intothe rear-view mirror of a car that is vibrating rapidly. It was likeone of those Cubist paintings of a woman descending the stairs, whereone had to puzzle out which is the woman and which is the stairs. 

A dreadful thought shot through Jim's mind. He remembered what he hadsaid to Tode: "You can't hold the boat still in four-dimensionalspace. "

This was not quite the same. By stopping the infernal mechanism, onere-entered three-dimensional space, and landed. Certainly the AtomSmasher could land. They were not like the motorcyclist who got on amachine for the first time, and rode to the admiration of all who sawhim, except that he couldn't find out how to stop. 

Yet there was Parrish still fumbling with the controls, and the boatwas still vibrating at a terrific rate of speed. It is impossible todream of leaping out, for there was no solidity, no continuity in thescenery outside. 

It was not like attempting to leap from a moving train, for instance. In that case one knows that there is solid earth beneath, however hardone lands. Here everything was distorted, a sort of mirror reflection. And Jim noticed a strange thing that had never occurred to him before. Everything was reversed, as in a mirror picture. That clump of trees, for instance, which should have been on the right, was on the left. 

Parrish looked up. "There's some means of stopping her, of course, " hesaid. "There must be a lever--but I don't know where to look for it inall this mess. " He pointed to the revolving wheels. No, it might be amatter of days of experimenting in order to discover the elusiveswitch. 

"It may be a combination of switches, " said Parrish. "I don't knowwhat we're going to do. "

"Suppose I jumped and chanced it, " Jim suggested. 

Lucille caught his arm with a little cry. Parrish shook his head. 

"That devil--Listen: there was a Drilgo he disliked. He threw him outof the boat just before she landed at the cave. Everything was inplain sight, plainer than things are here. But he was never seenagain. For God's sake, lad, sit still. I'll try--"

 * * * * *

Hours later Parrish was still trying. And gradually Jim and Lucillehad ceased to hope. 

Side by side they had sat, watching that glimmering scene about them. Sometimes everything receded into a blur, across which sunlight andshadow, and then moonlight raced, at others the surroundings were soclear that it almost seemed as if, by steadying the boat, they couldleap ashore. And once there happened something that sent a thrill ofcold fear through both of them. 

For where the pool had been there appeared suddenly a hut--and Tode, standing in the doorway, looking about him, a malicious sneer curvinghis lips. 

Jim leaped to his feet, and old Parrish, who had seen Tode too, sprangup in wild excitement. 

"Sit down, lad, " he shouted. "It's nothing. I--I turned the micrometerscrew a trifle hard. I got us back to five years ago, when we wereliving here with Tode. That's just a picture--out of the past, Jim!"

Jim understood, but he sank down again with cold sweat bathing hisforehead. The terrific powers of the Atom Smasher were unveilingthemselves more and more each moment. Jim felt Lucille's hand on hisarm. He looked into her face. 

"Jim, darling, what's going to happen to us if dad can't find how towork the machine?"

"I don't know, dear. I've thought that we might all jump out andchance it. If we held each other tight, we'd probably land in the sameplace--"

 * * * * *

Old Parrish stood up. "I can't work it, Jim, " he said. "Tode's got usbeat. There's only one thing for us to do. You can guess what it is. "

"I think I can, " said Jim, glancing askance at Lucille. Yes, he knew, but he lacked the heart to tell her. "If we were all to jump out, tied together--don't you think we might land--somewhere near where wewant to land?" he asked. 

"Jim, do you realize what each vibration of this boat means?" askedParrish. "There's a table on the instrument-board. It's a wave lengthof four thousand miles in space and nineteen years in time. "

"You mean we're moving to London or San Francisco and back--"

"Further than that, every infinite fraction of a second, " answeredParrish. "No, Jim, we--we wouldn't land. So we must just go back towhere we came from, and--"

He had been speaking in a low voice, calculated not to reach Lucille'sears. The girl had been leaning back, her eyes closed, as if halfasleep. Now she rose and stepped up to her father and lover. "You cantell me the truth, " she said. "I'm not afraid. "

"We've got to go back, Lucille, " answered her father. "It's our onlychance. By following the course in reverse we can expect to makeAtlantis again--"

"Back to that horrible place?"

"No, my dear. The chart will lead us, obviously, back to the cavewhere Tode has his headquarters. We must try to surprise him, andforce him to bring us back to Long Island. "

"And then?" asked Lucille. 

Parrish shrugged his shoulders. "We'll face that problem when we cometo it, " he answered. 

"But how do you expect to be able to land at the other end any morethan this?" asked Jim. "Suppose the machine continues to vibrateinstead of coming to a standstill?"

"I think, " said Parrish, "that we'll be able to strike a bargain withTode. Obviously he will be willing to bring the machine to astandstill in order to parley with us. We'll make terms--the best wecan. After all, he can't afford to remain marooned on the isle ofAtlantis without the Atom Smasher. "

"I hate the idea of bargaining with that wretch, " said Lucille. 

"So do we all, dear, " answered Jim. "But there's nothing else that wecan do. It's just a matter of give and take. And I'd be glad toconsent to any terms that would bring us three safe back to earth, with all this business behind us. "

"I'll start back, then, " said Parrish, turning back to the instrumentboard. 

And, to the familiar thump, thump of the electrical discharge, theAtom Smasher took up its backward journey once more. 

 * * * * *

A long time passed. With her head resting against Jim's breast, Lucille rested. Jim bent over her, trying to discover whether she wasasleep or not. Her eyes were closed, her breathing so soft that shehardly seemed alive. An infinite pity for the girl filled Jim's heart, and, mingled with it, the intense determination to overcome the madmanwho had subjected her to these perils. He glanced across at Parrish, fingering his screws. Old Parrish looked up and nodded. There was anew determination in the old man's face that made him a differentperson from the crazed old man whom Jim had encountered at theVanishing Place. 

"We can beat him, Parrish!" Jim called, and Parrish looked back andnodded again. "We're nearly back to the top of the column, " heanswered. 

Not long afterward Parrish looked up once more. "Stand by, Jim!" hecalled. "And be ready. Tode will be aware of our approach by means ofthe sensitive instruments he keeps in his laboratory. But don't harmhim. We want him aboard, and we want him badly. He won't be able toplay any more tricks with us. I've learned too much about the AtomSmasher. "

He pressed a lever, and the greyness dissolved into its componentparts of light and darkness. A jar. Thump, thump! The violet light!Lucille looked up, raised herself, uttered a low cry and caught atJim's arm, trembling. 

They had run their course truly. The Atom Smasher was vibratingoutside the entrance to Tode's cave. And that was Tode, standingthere, watching them, that devilish grin of his accentuated to theutmost. A blurred figure that appeared and vanished, and a surroundingcrowd of Drilgoes--how many it was impossible to guess, for theylooked like a crowd of apes in motion. 

Suddenly Tode disappeared, and a moment later Lucille uttered aterrified cry as his voice spoke in her ear:

"I thought you'd be back. I knew you'd got away from Atlantis when myrecorder showed the waves of electrical energy proceeding from thecity. You were clever, Dent, but you see, you had to come back to meto get my help. "

"Don't be afraid, dear, " said Jim, trying to soothe the girl. "That'sa wireless receiving apparatus. " He pointed to a sort of cabinetenclosed among the rotating wheels, and then it was evident thatTode's voice was proceeding from it. 

 * * * * *

Tode's figure appeared again, dancing through a haze of lines andpatches. He was holding something in his hand which Jim made out to bethe mouthpiece of a microphone. The voice inside the Atom Smasherspoke again:

"Turn all the micrometer screws until the needles register zero, Parrish. Then turn Dial D to point 3, Dial C to 5, Dial B to 1, andDial A to 2. I'll repeat. .. . Now press the starting lever, Parrish, and you'll find yourself on firm ground again. "

A few moments later the Atom Smasher was pouring out an immense columnof the violet light, and slowly the vibration ceased. The blurredforms of Tode, of the Drilgoes grew clear. They had arrived. 

Tode stepped over the rail. "And now, my friends, we'll have a talk, "he said. 

"No tricks, Tode, " Jim warned him, "You've probably got a number ofdeviltries up your sleeve--"

"One or two, Dent, " grinned Tode. 

"We're willing to negotiate. "

"Of course you are. You see, I hold the trumps, Dent. Those dialdeflections, which are inevitable in the construction of any piece ofmechanism, are not the same for Earth in 1920. Don't think you can usethe same figures to land with. You must remember that there has been aprecession of the equinoxes since the time of Atlantis, with aconsequent shift in the earth's axis. No, Dent, I've got you very muchwhere I want you. But I'm willing to discuss terms with you. First ofall, let's get rid of this useless cargo. I don't believe inoverburdening a ship, " he grinned. 

He picked up Cain bodily and heaved the astonished Drilgo over theside before he knew what was happening to him. Cain picked himself upand rubbed his sides, whimpering mournfully. The Drilgoes crowdedcloser, their faces agape with astonishment. Tode spoke a commandsharply, and they scattered. 

 * * * * *

"Before we come to terms, Dent, I'll give you a piece of news that mayinterest you, " said Tode. "Much has happened during the time you'vebeen away. Ambassadors have been out to see me from Atlantis. With theaid of a Drilgo interpreter, they conveyed to me that they had beengreatly impressed by the disappearance of the Atom Smasher. They havenothing like it, of course, and they think I'm a Number One magician. 

"The upshot is, they want me to accept the supreme rule of the city, and use my arts to restore the lost territory that has sunk beneaththe waves. They swore on an image of their god, Cruk, that they weresincere. I told them that I'd sent the Atom Smasher away on a journey, but that it would be back shortly, and that I'd then give them theiranswer. 

"Now, Dent"--Tode's face took on that look of fanaticism that Jim hadseen on it before--"I'm going to repeat the proposition I made to youbefore. Join me. I'll make you my chief subordinate, and I'll load youand Parrish down with honors. Everything that a human being can desireshall be yours. And in a year or two, when we're tired of being gods, we'll take the Atom Smasher back to Earth and destroy it, and with ourwealth we'll become the supreme rulers of Earth too. I need you, Dent. You don't realize how lonely life can be when one is worshiped as agod. As for Lucille, there are a thousand maidens more beautiful thanshe is, in Atlantis. Come, Dent, your answer! Your last chance, Dent!Don't throw it away!"

He read the answer before Jim could speak it. Jim saw Tode's faceflicker, and hurled himself upon him. Lucille screamed. The two menwrestled together in the narrow confines of the circular boat. Jimstruck Tode a blow that sent him reeling against the rail. Then hefelt himself seized from behind. A giant Drilgo had him in his arms. He lifted him over the side and flung him to the earth. In an instantthe chattering Drilgoes were crowding down upon him. 

Struggling madly, Jim saw Tode fell old Parrish with a blow, push backLucille as she sprang at him, and quickly press the starting lever. The column of violet fire faded, there came the whir of themechanism--the Atom Smasher vanished. .. . 

CHAPTER IX

_The Blinded Eye_

Jim fought with all his strength; he managed to shake off hisassailants and regain his feet. Then one of the Drilgoes poised hisstone-tipped spear, ready to hurl it through his body. 

But the spear never left the Drilgo's hand in Jim's direction. Like agreat black ape, Cain leaped upon the fellow and bore him to theground, his feet twined around his shoulders, his hands gripping histhroat. Not until the Drilgo had been reduced to a heaving, half-strangled hulk did Cain leave him. 

Then Cain, bending until his stomach almost touched the ground, cameworming toward Jim, making signs of obeisance. 

What had happened that Jim had won the Drilgo's faith? Why did Cainnow look upon him, apparently, as his master? It was impossible togauge the processes of the black man's mind, and at the moment Jim wasin no mood to wonder. The stunning disaster that had overtaken himmonopolized his thoughts. 

Lucille and Parrish were once more in Tode's power. That was thedominating fact. The only gleam of comfort in the situation was thatTode had given him the clue to his movements. 

Beyond a doubt Tode had taken his captives into Atlantis with him. Itwas impossible to disbelieve Tode's statement that he had been offeredthe supreme power in the city. Tode's egotism would have compelled himto blurt out that fact. Besides, Tode had certainly not gone back toearth. 

Jim must force his way into Atlantis. He would find and rescue the twoprisoners or die there. 

He turned away from the groveling Cain and the chattering Drilgoes, who, inspired by Cain's example, now seemed animated by the sameinstinct to obey him, and went into the cave. But at the entrance heturned for a moment and looked back. 

 * * * * *

It was night. The valley was swathed in mists, the volcano oppositewas spouting a shaft of lurid fire. On the water was a path ofmoonlight, where the clouds had been dispersed by the Atlanteans. Jimtook in the scene, he raised one arm and shook his fist. Then, withouta word, he passed inside. 

There was a soft light in the cave, streaming out from an innerchamber, access to which was through a narrow orifice in the rock. Jim passed through, and found himself in Tode's laboratory. 

He was astonished at its completeness, still more so at the existenceof numerous pieces of apparatus whose purpose it was difficult tounderstand. There was a radio transmitter and receiver, but improvedout of all recognition from those in use in the prosaic year 1930. Three or four tiny dynamos, little more than toys in appearance, weregenerating as much voltage, from the indicators, as a modern powerstation. And overhead was a dial, with two series of figures in blackand red, and two needles, both of which were swinging briskly, indicating that there was an intense electrical disturbance in thevicinity. 

The Atom Smasher! Jim took heart. Tode could not be far away! Helooked about him, subconsciously trying to discover some implementthat would prove of service to him, but there was nothing that hecould see, not even one of the ray tubes. He looked about uneasily. 

Then his eyes fell upon something so singularly out of place that itlooked, for the moment, like some pre-historic weapon. It was the lastthing Jim would have expected to find there--nothing more nor lessthan a sporting rifle!

Deer shooting had been one of Tode's pastimes in the old days, andmore than one fat buck had been surreptitiously shot for the benefitof the larder at the Vanishing Place. There was something almostpathetic in the sight of that rifle and the fifty cartridges in theircardboard carton. Perhaps Tode had pictured himself shooting big gamein Atlantis at some period or other. It was a human weakness that foran instant lessened Jim's hate and horror of the man. It brought himto a saner view of the situation. Jim had been on the point of losinghis powers of reason. The sight of the rifle restored them. 

 * * * * *

He turned sharply as he heard a sound in the entrance. Cain was comingtoward him, with many genuflexions, and much stomach wriggling. Hestopped, straightened himself. There was a look of singularintelligence on the Drilgo's face. 

He began chattering, pointing in the direction of Atlantis. Jim couldmake nothing of what he was trying to convey. 

"Yes, they're there, " he said bitterly, "but I don't see how that'sgoing to help me. "

"Oh my poor Lucille!" said Cain unexpectedly. 

The words were like a parrot's speech, the intonation so remarkable acopy of old Parrish's that Jim was flabbergasted. Nevertheless it wasevident that Cain knew he was referring to Lucille. 

With a strange, slinking motion he crossed the laboratory and bentbeneath a huge slab of stone, resting on two great hewn rocks. Heemerged, holding in his arms two curious contrivances. He laid them atJim's feet. 

Jim stared at them, and suddenly understood what they were. They weretwo pairs of wings, of the kind the Atlanteans had used when they madetheir aerial sortie against the Drilgoes. 

Cain picked up one pair and began adjusting it about his body. He madefluttering movements with his arms. 

"You mean that you've learned how to fly, you black imp of Satan?"shouted Jim. 

And Cain, as if understanding, nodded and beamed all over his blackface. 

With that Jim's idea was born. If the Drilgoes would follow him, hewould lead them against Atlantis. And, before the assault began, hewould fly to the great Eye that guarded it, and blind it. 

 * * * * *

He thought afterward that it was like a supernatural revelation, thisscheme, that leaped full-fledged into his brain. And Cain haddeveloped extraordinary executive ability. Outside the cave, throughrifts in the swirls of fog, Jim could see innumerable Drilgoes massingin the valley, as if they understood Jim's purpose. From Cain'sgesticulations, and the number of times he rubbed his stomach, it wasevident that he counted upon sacking Atlantis and was imagininginnumerable meals of fat captives. 

Each flash of lurid light from the volcano disclosed further masses ofDrilgoes, armed with their stone spears, apparently assembling for theattack. Whether Tode had summoned them before the Atlanteans offeredhim the rulership of the city, or whether Jim's own plan had beencommunicated to them by some telepathic process, it was impossible toguess, but there was not the least doubt but that they were preparedto follow him. 

Cain nudged Jim and began strapping the other pair of wings about hisbody. Jim saw that the energy was supplied by two tiny, lights burningin the base, cold fire, stored energy whose strength he did not guess. For, when Cain took him by the hand, and motioned to him to slide theknob in the groove, he was hurled skyward like a rocket. 

There followed a delirious hour. Tossing and tumbling like a pigeon ina gale, Jim by degrees acquired mastery over the apparatus. At the endof the hour he could fly almost as well as Cain, who, like a blackguardian angel kept beside him, reaching out a hand when heoverbalanced, and pulling him out of aerial side-slips. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly Cain motioned toward the volcano, and started toward it in arocketlike swoop. Jim understood. The Drilgoes were ready for theattack upon Atlantis. 

Jim dropped to earth, ran back into the cave, and picked up the rifleand the carton of ammunition. He filled the magazine, and, with therifle on his arm, rose into the air again. Cain was circling back, uttering weird cries of distress at finding his master absent. 

"It's all right, Cain, " said Jim. "I'm here. "

Side by side they flew steadily toward the base of the great cone, which was pouring out a fan-shaped stream of fire. Rumblings shook theearth; it was evident that another upheaval was in course ofpreparation. The long column of the Drilgoes could be seen, extendingaround the flank of the mountain. 

Then of a sudden the Eye opened. And across the causeway came theblue-white Ray, carrying death and destruction. 

The Drilgoes, who had learned wisdom, remained concealed out of theRay's path, and escaped, but a great dinosaur, fifty or sixty feet inlength, startled by the light, came blundering out of the ferns, uttered a bellow, and melted into an amorphous mass. Birds droppedfrom their roosting places with a sound like that of falling hail. Black paths were cloven through the midst of the jungle. 

Rifle in hand, Jim soared into the air, and shot forward, high abovethe causeway toward the glowing Eye. 

He had noticed that the blue-white ray appeared in cycles of about twominutes, and had made his plans accordingly. Two minutes in which toaccomplish his task, or take the chance of a hideous death. Somethirty seconds carried him right into the glowing heart of the winkingEye: he hovered and raised his rifle. 

Underneath him the breakers thundered: round the Eye a myriadsea-birds fluttered, dashing themselves against it, falling into thewaves. Huge and high the great city towered into the skies, lit by itssoft incandescence. Jim could see the throngs in the streets, thetraffic. But what was happening in the other side of the Eye?

 * * * * *

Suddenly he saw the moon in her third quarter sailing through theskies, and a hideous fear overcame him. Suppose Tode had met withtreachery; suppose that this very night Lucille were doomed to besacrificed to the terrible god Cruk!

Suppose that even at that moment her tender flesh were beingsacrificed by the awful hooks!

He drew a bead upon the Eye and fired--and missed. The bullet wentwide. But even if it struck, what guarantee had he that it wouldshatter the glass, or whatever substance it was that covered the orb?

He lost position, and knew that the two-minute interval was drawing toa close. He soared and fired again. The Eye still glowed. 

Then of a sudden a blinding ray shot forth from it, so dazzling thatit seemed to sear Jim's eyeballs. The interval was ended. 

It shot beneath him, but no more than a few feet, and turning his eyesshoreward, Jim saw it sweep along the causeway and tear a black paththrough the forest. Frantically he soared, and circled around thetemple. 

The ray went out. Two minutes more. And now the temporary panic hadpassed; Jim's nerves grew steady as a rock. He eased the controls andfloated in toward the glowing orb. Sea-mews, screaming, dashedthemselves against it and fell, wounded and broken, into the breakingseas below. They fluttered past Jim's face, one impacted against hischest with a thud that rocked him where he hovered. 

But Jim knew that he could not fail. At a distance of fifty feet hedrew a bead upon the centre of the Eye and pressed the trigger. 

And instantly the light went out. .. . 

CHAPTER X

_The Fight in the Dark_

He dropped down softly to the causeway. Within the city he heard asound such as he had never heard before, as if some ancient prophecyof doom had been fulfilled, a wailing "Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!" that wascaught up from throat to throat and rose upon the wind in a clamorwild and mournful as that of the sea-birds around the broken Eye. Itwas the death-keening of proud Atlantis, Queen of the Atlantic forfifty thousand years. She was dying in darkness. 

For, with the blinding of the Eye, all the soft lights within the cityhad gone out. Dense, utter, impenetrable darkness reigned, and eventhe gibbous moon, floating overhead, seemed to give no light. 

Jim dropped to the causeway and began running in the direction of thecity. But, feeling the drag of his wings, he unbuckled the strap andflung them away. He might need them, but his one thought was to get toLucille, if she were still alive. And he felt that each moment lostmight mean that he would be too late. 

Through the blackness he raced forward, hearing that sobbing ululationwithin the walls. But behind him he heard another sound, and shudderedat it, all his hopes suddenly reversed. For that sound was theshouting of the Drilgoes as they rushed forward to conquest. And nowit seemed a monstrous thing that proud Atlantis should be at the mercyof these hordes. He had let loose destruction upon the world. But itwas to save Lucille. 

That was his consolation. Yet he hardly checked the racing thoughtswithin his mind even for a moment, to meditate on what he had done. Those thoughts were all of Lucille. He must get to her before theDrilgoes entered. And he ran faster, panting, gasping, till of asudden the portals loomed before him, and he saw a crowd of frenziedAtlanteans struggling to pass through, and a file of soldiersstruggling to keep them back. 

 * * * * *

He could distinguish nothing more than the confused struggle. Hehurled himself into the midst of the crowd and swept it back. He waswithin the walls now, and struggling to pass through the mob of peoplethat was swarming like homeless bees. 

He fought them with flailing fists, he clove a pathway through them, until he found himself in a great shadowy space that he recognized asthe central assembly of the city. More by instinct than design he hitupon the narrow court that was the elevator. But the court was filledwith another mob of struggling people, and in the darkness there wasno possibility of discovering the secret of raising it. 

He blundered about, raging, forcing a path now here, now there. He raninto blind alleys, into small threading streets about the court, whichled him back into the central place of assembly. It was like anightmare, that blind search under the pale three-quarter moon and theblack, star-blotched sky. 

Suddenly Jim found himself wedged by the pressure of the crowd into asort of recess leading off the elevator court. So strong was thepressure here that he was unable to move an inch. Wedged bolt upright, he could only wait and let the frenzied mob stream past him. Andlouder above the sound of wailing came the roars of the Drilgoesswarming along the causeway. 

Suddenly something gave behind him--a door, as it seemed, broken offits hinges by the mob pressure. Jim was hurled backward, and fellheavily down a flight of stone stairs, bringing up against a stonebalustrade. He got up, unconscious of his bruises, ran to the top ofthe flight, and saw the dim square of palest twilight where the doorhad been. 

But over him he could faintly see the stairs and the balustrade, winding away to what seemed immeasurable height. That stairway mustlead to the top of the building, and thence there should be someaccess to the amphitheatre. Jim turned toward it. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly a tremendous uproar filled the streets, yells, the clickinggrunts of the Drilgoes, the screams of the panic-stricken populace. The invaders had arrived, and they were sweeping all before them. Nochance of recognition in that darkness. Lucille! Shouting her name, Jim began to ascend the stairs in leaps of three at a time. 

But long before he reached the top he was ascending one by one, withstraining limbs and laboring breath. Red slaughter down below, a veryinferno of sound; above, that shadowy stairway, still extending almostto the heavens. Step after step, flight beyond flight!

Jim's lungs were bursting, and his heart hammering as if it wouldbreak his chest. One flight more! One more! Another! Suddenly herealized that his task was ended. In place of the stairs stood a vasthall, and beyond that another hall, dim in the faint light thatfiltered through the glass above. 

Jim thought he remembered where he was. Beyond that next hall thereshould be the tongue of flooring, crossing the amphitheatre andjoining the platform of the idols. But he stopped suddenly as heemerged, not upon the tongue, but upon still another stairway. 

He had gone astray, and out of his bursting lungs a cry of rage anddespair went up. For a moment he stood still. What use to proceedfurther?

And then, amazingly, there came what might have been a sign fromheaven. Down through a small, square opening overhead, no larger thana ventilator, it came . .. A glimmer of violet flame!

And Jim hurled himself like a madman against the stairs, andsurmounted them with two bounds. There were no more. Instead, Jimfound himself looking down into the amphitheatre. 

The thick walls had cut off all sound from his ears, save a confusedmurmur, but now a hideous uproar assailed them. The whole floor of theamphitheatre was a mass of moving shadows, of slayers and slain. 

The Drilgoes had broken in and trapped the multitudes that had takenrefuge there. Their fearful stone-tipped spears thrust in and out, tothe accompaniment of their savage howls and the screams of the dying. 

 * * * * *

Never has such a shadow-play been seen, perhaps, as that below, wheredeath stalked in dense darkness, and the slayer did not even see hisvictim. Only the thrust of spears, the soft, yielding flesh that theyencountered, the scream, the wrench of stone from tissue, and theblended howl of triumph and scream of despair. 

Yet only for a moment did Jim turn his eyes upon that sight. For heknew where he was now. He had emerged upon the other side of theamphitheatre, upon the platform where he had seen the priests anddignitaries gathered when he was led forward to be sacrificed. 

There, in the rear, were the hideous, shadowy gods, looming up out ofthe darkness, their outstretched arms interlaced. And there upon theplatform was the Atom Smasher, a little thread of violet light seepingout of the central tube. 

Beside it stood a group of figures, impossible to distinguish in thedarkness, but of a sudden Lucille's scream rang out above the dinbelow. 

With three leaps Jim was at her side. He saw the girl, Tode, andParrish, struggling in the grasp of a dozen priests. They weredragging them toward the idols, and Jim understood what that sceneportended. 

In despair at the irruption of the Drilgoes, the priests were seekingto propitiate their gods by sacrificing the three strangers whom theyheld responsible for all their woes. 

Jim caught Lucille in his arms, shouting her name. She knew him, turned toward him. Then one of the priests, armed with a greatstone-headed club--for no metal is permitted within the precincts ofthe god Cruk--struck at him furiously. 

Jim leaped aside, letting the club descend harmlessly upon the floor. He shot out his right with all his strength behind it, catching thepriest upon the jaw, and the man crumpled. 

 * * * * *

Whirling the club around his head, he fought back the fanatics, allthe while shouting to Tode to start the Atom Smasher. In such a momenthe only remembered that Tode was a white man, and of his owngeneration. 

He struck down three of the priests; then he was seized around theknees from behind, and fell heavily. The club was wrenched from hishand. In another moment Jim found himself helpless in the grasp of theAtlanteans. 

As he stopped struggling for a moment, to gather his strength for asupreme effort, he heard a whir overhead, and saw the arms of thestone gods begin their horrible revolution. The priests had startedthe machinery. And high above the din below rang out the wild chant ofthe high priest. 

Jim saw him now, a figure poised upon a platform behind the arms, hisown arms raised heavenward. 

"Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!"

Jim was being dragged forward, with Lucille beside him, old Parrishfollowing, still making a futile struggle for life, while pitifulscreeches issued from his mouth. 

Jim saw the revolving arms descend within a foot of his head. One morefight--one more, the last. 

Suddenly, with loud yells, a band of Drilgoes leaped forward from thehead of the stairs and rushed upon the struggling priests and victims. And, dark as it was, Jim recognized their leader--Cain. 

And Cain knew Lucille. As the priests rallied for a desperateresistance, Cain hurled his great body through the air, landingsquarely upon the shoulders of the priest nearest the revolving arms, and knocking him flat. 

Then the arms caught priest and Drilgo, and the steel hooks dug deepinto their flesh. A screech of terror, a howl that reverberatedthrough the amphitheatre, and nothing remained of either but a heapof macerated flesh. 

But in that instant Jim had fought free again. He caught Lucille anddragged her back toward the Atom Smasher. 

 * * * * *

Tode had already broken from his captors and was working at itfrantically. 

"Hold on!" screeched old Parrish. "Hold on!"

They had a moment's leeway. The Drilgoes had driven the priests backinto the hooks. With awful shrieks the fanatics were yielding up theirlives, in the place of their selected victims. 

But more Drilgoes were pouring up the stairs. A moment's leeway, andno more, before the savage band would impale the four upon theirstone-pointed spears. There was not the slightest chance that theywould be able to make their identity known. 

"For God's sake hurry!" Jim yelled in Tode's ear. 

The wheels were revolving, a stream of violet light, leaping out ofthe central tunnel, cast a lurid illumination upon the scene. 

But it was too late. A score of Drilgoes, with leveled spears, wererushing on the four. 

"Hold tight!" screeched Parrish. He thrust his arm into his breast, and pulled out a little lever. Jim recognized it and remembered. Itwas the instrument of universal death--the uranium release of untoldforces of cataclysmic depredation. 

"Take that!" screamed the old man, inserting the lever into the secretgroove in the Atom Smasher and jerking it in the direction of thepriests. 

CHAPTER XI

_Tode's Last Gamble_

A roar that seemed to rend the heavens followed. Roar upon roar, asthe infinite momentum of the disintegrating uranium struck obstacleafter obstacle. The Drilgoes vanished, the amphitheatre melted away, walls and roof. .. . Overhead were the moon and stars. 

And proud Atlantis was sinking into the depths of the sea. .. . Not as aship sinks, but piecemeal, her walls and towers crumbling and topplingas a child's sand-castle crumbles under the attack of the lappingwaves. Down they crashed, carrying their freight of black, clinging, human ants, while from the sea's depths a wave, a mile high, rose andbattered the fragments to destruction. From the crater of the volcanoa huge wave of fire fanned forward, and where fire and water met acloud of steam rose up. 

A boiling chaos in which water and earth and fire were blended, spreadover land and sea. And then suddenly it was ended. Where the lastisland of the Atlantean continent had been, only the ocean was to beseen, placid beneath the stars. 

The Atom Smasher was vibrating at tremendous speed. Jim, with one armround Lucille, faced Tode at the instrument board. Near by satParrish, watching him too. 

"That took a whole year, " said Tode. "That pretty little scene ofdestruction we've just witnessed. The good old Atom Smasher has beendoing some lively stunts, or we'd have been engulfed too. We're notlikely to see anything so pretty in history again, unless we go towatch the destruction of Herculaneum and Pompeii by lava fromVesuvius. But that would be quite tame in comparison with this. "

 * * * * *

Tode's jeering tone grated on Jim's ears immeasurably. 

"I don't think any of us are craving any more experiments, Tode, " hesaid, trying to keep his voice steady. "Suppose you take us back toPeconic Bay. We'll dump the Atom Smasher into the pond, and try toforget that we've had anything except a bad nightmare. "

"Don't trust him, Jim, " whispered Lucille. 

Tode heard. "Thank you, " he answered, scowling. "But seriously, Dent, we can't go back with nothing to show for all our trouble. Those foolstried to betray me, and then the Eye went out. Perhaps I have you tothank for that performance? However, the sensible thing is to letbygones be bygones. But we must make a little excursion. How aboutpicking up a little treasure from the hoards of Solomon or GenghisKhan? A few pounds of precious stones would make a world of differencein our social status when we reach Long Island. "

Jim felt a cold fury permeating him. Tode saw his grim look andlaughed malignantly. 

"Well, Dent, I'm ready to be frank with you, " he said. "The game'sstill in my hands. I want Lucille. I'm willing to take you and Parrishback, provided you agree she shall be mine. I'll have to trust you, but I shall have means of evening up if you play crooked. "

"Why don't you ask my girl herself?" piped old Parrish. 

"He needn't trouble. He knows the answer!" cried Lucille scornfully. 

"There's your answer, " said Jim. "Now, what's the alternative?"

"The alternative is, that I have already set the dial to eternity, Dent, " grinned Tode. "Eternity in the fifth dimension. Didn't know I'dworked that out, did you? A pleasant little surprise. No, don't try tomove. My hand is on the lever. I have only to press it, and we'rethere. "

 * * * * *

Jim stood stock still in horror. Tode's voice rang true. He believedTode had the power he claimed. 

"Yes, the fifth dimension, and eternity, " said Tode, "where time andspace reel into functionlessness. Don't ask me what it's like there. I've never been there. But my impression of it is that it's a fairlygood representation of the place popularly known as hell. 

"You fool, Dent, " Tode's voice rang out with vicious, snarlingemphasis, "I gave you your chance to come in with me. Together we'dhave made ourselves masters of Atlantis and brought back her plunderto our Twentieth Century world. You refused because of a girl--a girl, Dent, who loved me long before you came upon the scene. "

"That's a lie, Lucius, " answered Lucille steadily. "And you can doyour worst. There's one factor you haven't reckoned in yourcalculations, and that's called God. "

"The dark blur on the spectral lines, " old Parrish muttered. 

Tode laughed uproariously. "Come, make your choice, Dent, " he mocked. "It's merely to press this lever. You'll find yourself--well, we won'tgo into that. I don't know where you'll find yourself. You'lldisappear. So shall I. But I'm desperate. I must have Lucille. Choose!" His voice rang out in maniac tones. "Choose, all of you!"

"Lucille has answered you, " Jim retorted. 

"And how about you, old man?" called Tode to Parrish. 

Parrish leased forward, making a swift movement with his hand. "Go toyour own hell, you dev--"

A blinding light, a frantic oscillation of the Atom Smasher, a senseof death, awful and indescribable--and stark unconsciousness rushedover Jim. His last thought was that Lucille's arms were about him, andthat he was holding her. Nothing mattered, therefore, even though theytwo were plunged into that awful nothingness of the fifth dimension, where neither space nor time recognizably exists. Love could existthere. 

CHAPTER XII

_Solid Earth_

"He's coming around, Lucille. Thank God for it!"

Jim opened his eyes. For a few moments he looked about him withoutunderstanding. Then the outlines of a room etched themselves againstthe clouded background. And in the foreground Lucille's face. The girlwas bending over Jim, one hand soothing his forehead. 

"Where am I?" Jim muttered. 

"Back on earth, Jim, the good old earth, never again to leave it, "answered Lucille, with a catch in her voice. With an effort shecomposed herself. "You mustn't talk, " she said. 

"But what place is this?"

"It's Andy Lumm's house. Now rest, and I'll explain everything later. "

But the first explanation came from Andy Lumm. "Well, Mr. Dent, mywife and me sure were glad to be on the spot when you and Miss Parrishgot bogged on the edge of the Black Pool, " he said. "Mean, treacherousplace it is. Thar was a cow got mired thar last month, up to herbelly. If us hadn't found her, and dragged her out with ropes, she'dhave gone clear under. Granpop Dawes says thar's underground springsaround the edge, and that it runs straight down to hell, though thatseems sorter far-fetched to me. 

"Yessir, and if I hadn't heard WNYC giving Miss Parrish on the list ofmissing persons, and as having been seen near here, I reckon I'd neverhave found you. Made me and my wife uneasy, that did. 'Andy, ' shesays. 'I got an inkling you oughter go to the Vanishing Place and seeif she ain't there. ' And there I found you two, mired to the waist, and Mr. Parrish dancing around and fretting, and his clothes burned tocinders. 

"It sure seems strange to me, to think Mr. Parrish got away safe afterthat explosion five years ago, and of his wandering around with lossof memory, till you found him, and brung him back here to restore it, but thar's strange things in the world--yes, sir, thar surely is!"

In the happiness of being back on Earth once more, Jim was content tolet further explanations go. The return of Parrish had been dulychronicled in the newspapers, and had provoked a mild interest, butfortunately the public mind was so occupied at the moment with thetrial of a night club hostess that, after the first rush of newspapermen, the three were left alone. 

 * * * * *

Day after day, in the brilliant autumn weather, Jim and Lucille wouldroam the tinted woods, recharging themselves with the feel of Earth, until the memory of those dread experiences grew dim. 

"Well, Jim, I reckon I'd better tell you and get it over, " said oldParrish one morning--Parrish, quite his old, jaunty self again. "Todehad got the dials pointing to the fifth dimension--eternity, he calledit, though actually I believe it's nothing more than annihilation, agrand smash. Well, he pressed that lever. But something had gonewrong. 

"You remember how poor Cain seemed to take great interest in the AtomSmasher. There's no way of telling what had been going on in thatbrain of his, but it looks to me like he'd known that that lever meantdeath. It was sealed up in wax, and Tode had got it free on the wayout of Atlantis. 

"Well--this it what I made out from examining the thing afterward. Cain had been monkeying with the lever. He'd pried loose one of thewires that hooked to the transformer, and short-circuited it, notknowing, of course, just what he was doing. The result was that whenTode pressed that lever, instead of blowing the whole contraption topieces, he got a couple of billion volts of electricity through hisbody, combined with a larger amperage than has ever been imagined. Itburned him to a few grease spots. He simply--vanished. You don'tremember what you did at the moment, boy?"

"I don't seem to remember anything, " said Jim. 

"Well, your response was an automatic one. You jumped him. Luckilyyou were too late, for Tode vanished like that!" Old Parrish snappedhis fingers. "But you must have got into the field of magneticforce--any way, you were almost electrocuted. Lucille and I thoughtyou were dead for hours. 

"We laid you down and set a course for home. I used those dialnumberings Tode had given me. He'd said they wouldn't work, but he'dlied. They did work. They brought us back to the Vanishing Place. 

"We carried you out, and then I saw your eyelid twitch. We worked overyou with artificial respiration till it looked as if there was achance for you. Then I shut off the power and let the waters rush inover the Atom Smasher, and swam ashore. And there it lies at thebottom of the pool, and may it lie there till the Judgment Day. "

 * * * * *

"Tode was a genius, " said Jim, "but he never understood that charactercounts for more than genius. "

"Let's think no more about him, " said Lucille. She had come up tothem, and the two looked at each other and smiled. Love isself-centred; other things it forgets very quickly. 

"To-morrow we go back to New York, " said Jim. "You think you're ableto face the world and take up life again?"

"I think so, Jim, " said Lucille. 

"You're not remembering him after all?"

"No, Jim. I was thinking of poor Cain. He died for me. "

"But that was twelve thousand years ago, my dear, and to-day'sto-day, " said Jim. "And to-morrow a new life begins for you and me. "

He drew her closer to him. No, he would never quite forget, but thatwas twelve thousand years ago . .. And to-morrow was his wedding day. 

_A Meeting Place for Readers of_ Astounding Stories

[Illustration: _The Readers' Corner_]

_An "Astounding" Career_

Dear Editor:

 A friend introduced me to your new magazine, and it is wonderful. The best story in the magazine, or, rather, the one I liked best, outside of the serial, which I didn't read, is "The Cave of Horror, " by Capt. S. P. Meek. Next comes Ray Cummings' story of the Fourth Dimension, "Phantoms of Reality. " Other good ones are, "Tanks, " "Invisible Death, " and "Compensation. "

 I did not like "The Stolen Mind. " It seemed to me to be a mixture of superstition and magic. A fairy tale. I am glad that you are publishing this magazine, and I think that it is worth double its present price. You have my good wishes to the magazine for a long and astounding career. My way of reading a serial is to save copies and to read the story at one time. I do not like to wait a month for a story to end or continue. 

 Your next issue seems to sound quite interesting. "The Spawn of the Stars, " a very interesting and, I am sure, a fit name for the story. "Creatures of the Light" is a very vague name--you don't know what to expect. The others will prove to be as interesting as any that I have named. I prefer interplanetary stories the most, as any amount of science can be injected in them. --Nathan Greenfield, 318 East 78th St. , New York, N. Y. 

_Prefers Long Stories_

Dear Editor:

 I got your first issue of Astonishing Stories, and, although I like the stories, I do not like the way you have it bound. (This is supposed to be criticism, so don't take it to heart. ) The pages are uneven and hard to turn. But the stories in the first copy were good. And you'll have a swell magazine if you have stories by Harl Vincent and Ray Cummings. The aforesaid men are two of the best in the science fiction field. Another thing: don't have any short stories. If you have about 3 or 4 l-o-n-g stories, I'd like it better. I hope your magazine enjoys much success!--Linus Hogenmiller, 502 N. Washington Street, Farmington, Mo. 

_Another Who Likes Interplanetary Stories_

Dear Editor:

 I have read the first issue of Astounding Stories with much pleasure, and if the first issue is any indication of what is to follow I will continue to be a reader. 

 You inquire as to the kind of stories that your readers think should be published. I think you will find the most popular brand to be interplanetary stories and stories along the line of the "Beetle Horde. " Best wishes for success in your new endeavor--F. C. Cowherd, Room 333, L. & N. Railroad, Louisville, Ky. 

_Attention, Joiners!_

Dear Editor:

 I have just finished one of the stories in your magazine, and could not resist the temptation to write and tell you how much I enjoyed it. The stories are great and are just the thing to give one rest and recreation. At the same time they fire imagination and are not trashy love stories. 

 The main purpose of the letter is to revive an old idea and see if I can put it through. I propose to organize a correspondence society for readers interested in science. We would use Astounding Stories as our official medium. Each member would receive a list of members' names and addresses, a quantity of official stationery for inter-correspondence, and a certificate of membership suitable for framing. 

 The object would be the discussion of scientific topics and the latest advances. 

 I would suggest an annual fee of $2. 50 to cover the cost of printing stationery, certificates, application forms, copy of the constitution, lists of members and official pins. 

 All those interested in the formation of such a society are earnestly requested to write me, giving suggestions as to a suitable name, etc. They will receive full information, and a sample of the certificate of membership and an application form. 

 I trust you will publish this letter at your earliest convenience--M. R. Bercovitch, B. Sc. , 4643 St. Urbain Street, Montreal, Canada. 

_Sound Criticism_

Dear Editor:

 You ask for readers to write you regarding types of stories desired. Well, I am an electrical engineer and of course like my yarns to have a touch of science in them. Also I like my authors to make an original contribution to whatever theory of science they develop fictionally. This Ray Cummings doesn't do in his very interesting story, "Phantoms of Reality. " His beginning is palpably borrowed from Francis Flagg's story, "The Blue Dimension, " which appeared in a Science Fiction magazine in 1927. Flagg developed the theory of vibrations, reverberation, etc. , and contributed something new to speculative science. Cummings merely seizes this point and dives into a series of improbable adventures. 

 Now I am not quarrelling with their improbability: I like my stories improbable, but I am asking for something more original than the old rehash of kings and queens, intrigues, and returning princes, etc. Again, Cummings seems to lack enough scientific acumen to make his other world different than this. Even a superficial thinker will readily see that the terrain of the other world would not faithfully follow our own in its salient features. However, forgive me for knocking--the story wasn't so bad, and Cummings doubtless can do better than this--or has. 

 "The Beetle Horde"--so far--is a gem, and holds the interest. Furthermore, its science is splendid. I am looking forward to its conclusion. "The Cave of Horror" is a damn good yarn, well written, interest sustained: but I didn't care for "The Stolen Mind. " The truth is that that particular story didn't hang together very well. It left one up in the air, as it were, and far from satisfied me. Too, the science involved, to say the least of it, was not very sound or plausibly put. In reading the story I felt that the author was one who should be encouraged to write more--nothing wrong with his imagination or ability to fling words--but that he should be gently coerced into writing with better continuity and intelligence. "Compensation" didn't click--too loose--not compact enough. Splendid idea ruined by hasty writing. Another author needing a gentle hint. But "Tanks" was another sure-fire hit with me. Held me to last word. The story sounded real. 

 So for the stories in your first issue. You see, on the whole, I liked all of them. Still, I also like variety. Can't you give us some of the Francis Flagg type of fiction? H. Hyatt Verril is another of my favorites, also Dr. Keller and Clara Harris. I have read mighty good tales by those authors. I believe you could do worse than to run an occasional H. G. Wells story, and if you gave us "The First Men in the Moon" serially, I for one would be delighted. I have tried in vain to get that story and never have. Well, I guess I have said enough. Best wishes for the New Year. May Astounding Stories grow and prosper--and its Editor. --C. Harry Jaeger, 2900 Jeedan Road, Oakland, California. 

_Likes Interplanetary Stories_

Dear Editor:

 Having read the first issue of Astounding Stories, I am about to pronounce a sentence on it. It is guilty of being "Astounding" to the Nth degree!

 I enjoyed all the stories immensely and will be anxiously awaiting the next issue. 

 Now as for some suggestions which I think would improve the magazine. 

 I. Try to have an interplanetary story in each issue. 

 II. Publish a number of interesting letters concerning Astounding Stories in each issue. 

 III. Have several illustrations in long stories. 

 I think this would improve the magazine, although it is perfect just the way it is. 

 Hoping Astounding Stories has a long and successful life!--Forrest Ackerman, 530 Staples Avenue, San Francisco, Cal. 

_Watch the Coming Issues, Miss Miller!_

Dear Editor:

 Saw your new magazine at the newsstand and bought it at once. I like the following stories in this issue: "The Beetle Horde, " "Phantoms of Reality, " "The Stolen Mind. " I did not care much for the others, and least of all for "Tanks. "

 I believe that readers, like myself, who are interested in scientific fantasies, prefer stories of interplanetary travels and fourth dimensional stories, and variations of these themes. Such as various space-ships and vibration machines for visiting other planets and traveling backward and forward in time. Stories of lost continents and of strange races of people living in unknown places on our own Earth are interesting also. 

 A magazine of this kind has unlimited possibilities for stories of the aforementioned types, and I believe that readers who buy magazines of these subjects expect to find therein really Astounding Stories. Best wishes for the success of your magazine!--Ruth Miller, St. Regis Hotel, Cleveland, Ohio. 

"_The Scienceers_"

Dear Editor:

 This is to inform you that we have formed a club which we named "The Scienceers. " The object of this club is to bring together members who are interested in science in general, also to talk the stories of your magazine over. We have no means of reaching those who are interested except through your magazine. We hope you will grant us space to print this letter in your magazine. We would appreciate it if every reader of your magazine living in New York City or nearby towns would drop us a card with his name and address. We then would be able to send him information of our club. We hope you will print this letter, as we are all readers of your magazine. --Louis Wexeler, 1933 Woodbine Street, Brooklyn, New York. 

_We Examine All Science Very Carefully_

Dear Editor:

 In the first edition of your periodical, you invite criticism from its readers. I am extremely pleased to note that Ray Cummings is among its contributors. His short crisp sentences and word pictures are most interesting. As to the type of stories, I would not be particular; but there is one thing which must be observed: Since this magazine is about science every story must be examined to discover any false statements by the author concerning present-day science. 

 I think that discoveries and inventions to be made in the future--by the author, of course--cannot be censored. --James Brodent, New York, N. Y. 

_Young Mr. Wright Writes In_

Dear Editor:

 I am accepting your offer to write and tell you what kind of stories I like. So I did. 

 I prefer stories of the Fourth Dimension. 

 I hope to find plenty of these fascinating stories in your coming issues. --Billy Wright, Age 11, Sheppard Place, Nashville, Tenn. 

_Likes His Science Fiction_

Dear Editor:

 Allow me to congratulate you on your fine magazine, it being one of the seven (more or less) magazines in print that are the best on the market. 

 I am glad to say that I can't throw you any brickbats, only bouquets, and thought I would tell you the kind of stories I would like to see in "our" magazine, if I may take the liberty of calling it that. 

 I like stories of the type A. Merritt and Edgar Rice Burroughs write, particularly A. Merritt, and if you could reprint "Through the Dragon Glass, " by A. Merritt, I wish you would, and give it a cover illustration, as I have everything by him except that one. Please give it a cover illustration as well as any by Merritt and Burroughs you ever print. 

 You certainly have a good title, and in my opinion the magazine need not be changed one iota, except perhaps you might have the background a different color every month; that is, the background of the cover, using every color in the solar spectrum, which might make it sell better, and, at any rate, would make a nice looking magazine in my opinion. Everything in Science Fiction that comes out I have to get, and pretty soon I will have so much that I will probably have to pay storage space for it. I have a pretty good amount now; four stacks two feet high each, but I can't resist it and will keep on buying as long as there is anything in that line to buy, and as long as I can. 

 Put this in the proverbial waste-basket if you don't want to print it, as that is probably its ultimate destination anyway, as my ideas are not worth much or less than that. But I do wish you would read it through and act on my suggestions soon. 

 Thanks--from an ardent devourer of Science Fiction, who reads everything in that line he can get his hands on, your and our magazine being one of the best in that line. --Worth K. Bryant, 406 North Third Street, Yakima, Washington. 

"_A Great Magazine_"

Dear Editor:

 I have just come across a copy of your new magazine Astounding Stories, and to say that it is a great magazine is putting it mild. I enjoy stories of the distant future. The first instalment of "The Beetle Horde" by Victor Rousseau was great. I hope to hear more of this author in coming issues. I would like to see stories by such authors as Edgar Rice Burroughs, Harl Vincent, Otis Adelbert Kline, Garret Smith, also Ray Cummings. I wish Astounding Stories a long life. --Wilbert Moyer, 533 N. 7th Street, Allentown, Pa. 

_Mr. Anderson's Favorites_

Dear Editor:

 Just a word referring to your "What kind of stories do you like?" in Astounding Stories. I like stories with some facts based on true science of to-day, but let the author's imagination wander a little, because anything might be possible to-morrow. I do not like love stories or much humor in this type of stories. 

 Stories of other worlds or of the Fourth Dimension always interest me, because there is no limit to the imagination there. 

 Why not have a discussion column and print some of the letters? It would encourage more to write, and give you their opinion: and, whether good or bad, should help you please the majority. 

 Some will maybe say the cover is too vivid--but that was what attracted my eye when I picked it out from among many others. 

 Most of your stories in the first edition were good. I liked "The Beetle Horde" and "Phantoms of Reality" best. Also noticed the "Spawn of the Stars" next issue, which sounds O. K. Hoping you all success in this type of stories. --C. E. Anderson, 3504 Colfax Avenue, Minneapolis, Minn. 

_A Young Reader's Favorites_

Dear Editor:

 I am writing you, per your request in your first issue of Astounding Stories. They are most entertaining. I have read three of the stories and they are excellent. You asked the readers to tell you the kind of stories we liked best. I like stories that concern the future of aviation. I like interplanetary stories, also the stories about the Fourth Dimension. I like Cummings', Rousseau's, Leinster's Meek's, Vincent's and Starzl's writing. Your magazine is sure worth twenty cents. You could put more science in your stories. 

 Please hold H. Wesso, your artist. He can really draw. I have seen his drawings in other magazines. And you may console yourself with the thought that you have one continuous reader. I feel that your magazine is going to be a success. I am also expressing the thoughts of other readers. I am only 15 years old, but I like to read good science stories, nevertheless. I hope to see you in next month's magazine. --Ward Elmore, 2912 Avenue J. Ft. Madison, Iowa. 

_A Contented Reader_

Dear Editor:

 Congratulations on your new publication, Astounding Stories. I certainly enjoyed reading the January issue. I believe that this magazine is the answer to the prayer of those readers who are desirous of something different, something unique. Another feature is that you are charging only 20˘ a copy for a magazine that is really worth several times that amount. You may count on me as a steady buyer of the Astounding Stories as long as future issues are up to the standard of the January issue. 

 Let me urge you that you give us the magazine on time every month. I do not want to postpone my enjoyment of reading the Unique Magazine on the first Thursday of each month. 

 Keep up the good work, and remember me as a contented reader of your publication--T. J. Creaff, Jr. P. O. Box 734, Phoenix Arizona. 

"_A Lallapaloozer_"!

Dear Editor:

 Well, I've got to say something, and I might as well get it over with. Your new magazine, Astounding Stories, is a Lallapaloozer. I'm sorry I didn't get the first edition of the new magazine, but I suppose you have some in stock and I'm sending in my twenty cents in stamps to get one. I might as well tell you how I found out about this new wonder. 

 One dreary, dreary night I walked into my newsdealer's store to get a paper. While there I happened to glance upon the bookstand--I saw the word Astounding and, my curiosity aroused, I walked over to the stand and pulled the magazine out. Imagine my surprise and delight when I found out what it was! Well, I bought the book then and there without even taking a look inside. When I got home I opened the book, and the first story that caught my eye was "Old Crompton's Secret, " by Harl Vincent. I knew the story was good before I read it, because I've read quite a few of Mr. Vincent's novels and they were all excellent. The best stories I like are interplanetary stories. 

 Why not have a "Reader Talks" in Astounding Stories, where each reader gives his point of view on the stories in the magazine? I know everyone would enjoy that, as it gives the readers a chance to comment on stories and, also, see what the other reader thinks about any story in particular. 

 I wish you success in your new enterprise and hope my first edition of Astounding Stories arrives soon. --Joseph Kankowsky, 35 Columbia Street, West Orange, New Jersey. 

"_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. _

 * * * * *