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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:20 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:20 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29848-8.txt b/29848-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..03fffe4 --- /dev/null +++ b/29848-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10858 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories of Super-Science, June, +1930, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Astounding Stories of Super-Science, June, 1930 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 30, 2009 [EBook #29848] +Last updated: March 20, 2011 +Last updated: May 26, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + ASTOUNDING + + STORIES + + OF SUPER-SCIENCE + + _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_ 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-NOVELS +MONTHLY, WIDE WORLD ADVENTURES, ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, +RANGELAND LOVE STORY MAGAZINE, WESTERN ADVENTURES, and FOREST AND STREAM. + + +_More Than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demand +for Clayton Magazines._ + + * * * * * + + + + +VOL. II, No. 3 CONTENTS JUNE, 1930 + + +COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSOLOWSKI + + _Painted in Water-colors from a Scene in "The Moon Master."_ + + +OUT OF THE DREADFUL DEPTHS C. D. WILLARD 293 + _Robert Thorpe Seeks Out the Nameless Horror That Is Sucking All Human + Life Out of Ships in the South Pacific._ + + +MURDER MADNESS MURRAY LEINSTER 310 + _Bell, of the Secret "Trade," Strikes into the South American Jungle to + Find the Hidden Stronghold of the Master--the Unknown Monster Whose + Diabolical Poison Swiftly and Surely Is Enslaving the Whole + Continent._ (Part Two of a Continued Novel.) + + +THE CAVERN WORLD JAMES P. OLSEN 340 + + _A Great Oil Field Had Gone Dry--and Asher, Trapped Far under the Earth + Among the Revolting Petrolia, Learns Why._ + + +BRIGANDS OF THE MOON RAY CUMMINGS 352 + + _The Besieged Earth-men Wage Grim, Ultra-scientific War with Martian + Bandits in a Last Great Struggle for Their Radium-ore--and Their + Lives._ (Conclusion.) + + +GIANTS OF THE RAY TOM CURRY 368 + + _Madly the Three Raced for their Lives up the Shaft of the Radium Mine, + for Behind Them Poured a Stream of Hideous Monsters--Giants of the + Ray!_ + + +THE MOON MASTER CHARLES W. DIFFIN 384 + + _Through Infinite Deeps of Space Jerry Foster Hurtles to the Moon--Only + to be Trapped by a Barbaric Race and Offered as a Living Sacrifice to + Oong, their Loathsome, Hypnotic God._ (A Complete Novel.) + + +THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 421 + + _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. +Entered as second-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office at +New York. N.Y., under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a +Trade Mark in the U.S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men's +List. For advertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co., Inc., 25 +Vanderbilt Ave., New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave., Chicago. + + + + +Out of the Dreadful Depths + +_By C. D. Willard_ + +[Illustration: "_Help--help--the eyes--the eyes!_"] + +[Sidenote: Robert Thorpe seeks out the nameless horror that is sucking +all human life out of ships in the South Pacific.] + + +Robert Thorpe reached languidly for a cigarette and, with lazy +fingers, extracted a lighter from his pocket. + +"Be a sport," he repeated to the gray haired man across the table. "Be +a sport, Admiral, and send me across on a destroyer. Never been on a +destroyer except in port. It ... would be a new experience ... enjoy +it a lot...." + +In the palm-shaded veranda of this club-house in Manila, Admiral +Struthers, U. S. N., regarded with undisguised disfavor the young man +in the wicker chair. He looked at the deep chest and the broad +shoulders which even a loose white coat could not conceal, at the +short, wavy brown hair and the slow, friendly smile on the face below. + +A likable chap, this Thorpe, but lazy--just an idler--he had +concluded. Been playing around Manila for the last two months--resting +up, he had said. And from what? the Admiral had questioned +disdainfully. Admiral Struthers did not like indolent young men, but +it would have saved him money if he had really got an answer to his +question and had learned just why and how Robert Thorpe had earned a +vacation. + +"You on a destroyer!" he said, and the lips beneath the close-cut gray +mustache twisted into a smile. "That would be too rough an experience +for you, I am afraid, Thorpe. Destroyers pitch about quite a bit, you +know." + +He included in his smile the destroyer captain and the young lady who +completed their party. The young lady had a charming and saucy smile +and knew it; she used it in reply to the Admiral's remark. + +"I have asked Mr. Thorpe to go on the _Adelaide_," she said. "We shall +be leaving in another month--but Robert tells me he has other plans." + +"Worse and worse," was the Admiral's comment. "Your father's yacht is +not even as steady as a destroyer. Now I would suggest a nice +comfortable liner...." + + * * * * * + +Robert Thorpe did not miss the official glances of amusement, but his +calm complacence was unruffled. "No," he said, "I don't just fancy +liners. Fact is, I have been thinking of sailing across to the States +alone." + +The Admiral's smile increased to a short laugh. "I would make a bet +you wouldn't get fifty miles from Manila harbor." + +The younger man crushed his cigarette slowly into the tray. "How much +of a bet?" he asked. "What will you bet that I don't sail alone from +here to--where are you stationed?--San Diego?--from here to San +Diego?" + +"Humph!" was the snorted reply. "I would bet a thousand dollars on +that and take your money for Miss Allaire's pet charity." + +"Now that's an idea," said Thorpe. He reached for a check book in his +inner pocket and began to write. + +"In case I lose," he explained, "I might be hard to find, so I will +just ask Miss Allaire to hold this check for me. You can do the same." +He handed the check to the girl. + +"Winner gets his thousand back, Ruth; loser's money goes to any little +orphans you happen to fancy." + +"You're not serious," protested the Admiral. + +"Sure! The bank will take that check seriously, I promise you. And I +saw just the sloop I want for the trip ... had my eye on her for the +past month." + +"But, Robert," began Ruth Allaire, "you don't mean to risk your life +on a foolish bet?" + +Thorpe reached over to pat tenderly the hand that held his check. "I'm +glad if you care," he said, and there was an undertone of seriousness +beneath his raillery, "but save your sympathy for the Admiral. The U. +S. Navy can't bluff me." He rose more briskly from his chair. + +"Thorpe...." said Admiral Struthers. He was thinking deeply, trying to +recollect. "Robert Thorpe.... I have a book by someone of that +name--travel and adventure and knocking about the world. Young man, +are you _the_ Robert Thorpe?" + +"Why, yes, if you wish to put it that way," agreed the other. He waved +lightly to the girl as he moved away. + +"I must be running along," he said, "and get that boat. See you all in +San Diego!" + + * * * * * + +The first rays of the sun touched with golden fingers the tops of the +lazy swells of the Pacific. Here and there a wave broke to spray under +the steady wind and became a shower of molten metal. And in the boat, +whose sails caught now and then the touch of morning, Robert Thorpe +stirred himself and rose sleepily to his feet. + +Out of the snug cabin at this first hint of day, he looked first at +the compass and checked his course, then made sure of the lashing +about the helm. The steady trade-winds had borne him on through the +night, and he nodded with satisfaction as he prepared to lower his +lights. He was reaching for a line as the little craft hung for an +instant on the top of a wave. And in that instant his eyes caught a +marking of white on the dim waters ahead. + +"Breakers!" he shouted aloud and leaped for the lashed wheel. He +swung off to leeward and eased a bit on the main-sheet, then lashed +the wheel again to hold on the new course. + +Again from a wave-crest he stared from under a sheltering hand. The +breakers were there--the smooth swells were foaming--breaking in +mid-ocean where his chart, he knew, showed water a mile deep. Beyond +the white line was a three-master, her sails shivering in the breeze. + +The big sailing ship swung off on a new tack as he watched. Was she +dodging those breakers? he wondered. Then he stared in amazement +through the growing light at the unbroken swells where the white line +had been. + + * * * * * + +He rubbed his sleepy eyes with a savage hand and stared again. There +were no breakers--the sea was an even expanse of heaving water. + +"I could swear I saw them!" he told himself, but forgot this +perplexing occurrence in the still more perplexing maneuvers of the +sailing ship. + +This steady wind--for smooth handling--was all that such a craft could +ask, yet here was this old-timer of the sea with a full spread of +canvas booming and cracking as the ship jibed. She rolled far over as +he watched, recovered, and tore off on a long, sweeping circle. + +The one man crew of the little sloop should have been preparing +breakfast, as he had for many mornings past, but, instead he swung his +little craft into the wind and watched for near an hour the erratic +rushes and shivering haltings of the larger ship. But long before this +time had passed Thorpe knew he was observing the aimless maneuvers of +an unmanned vessel. + +And he watched his chance for a closer inspection. + + * * * * * + +The three-master _Minnie R._, from the dingy painting of the stern, +hung quivering in the wind when he boarded her. There was a broken +log-line that swept down from the stern, and he caught this and made +his own boat fast. Then, watching his chance, he drew close and went +overboard, the line in his hand. + +"Like a blooming native after cocoanuts," he told himself as he went +up the side. But he made it and pulled himself over the rail as the +ship drew off on another tack. + +Thorpe looked quickly about the deserted deck. "Ahoy, there!" he +shouted, but the straining of rope and spars was his only answer. +Canvas was whipping to ribbons, sheets cracked their frayed ends like +lashes as the booms swung wildly, but a few sails still held and +caught the air. + +He was on the after deck, and he leaped first for the wheel that was +kicking and whirling with the swing of the rudder. A glance at the +canvas that still drew, and he set her on a course with a few +steadying pulls. There was rope lying about, and he lashed the wheel +with a quick turn or two and watched the ship steady down to a smooth +slicing of the waves from the west. + +And only then did the man take time to quiet his panting breath and +look about him in the unnatural quiet of this strangely deserted deck. +He shouted again and walked to a companionway to repeat the hail. Only +an echo, sounding hollowly from below, replied to break the vast +silence. + + * * * * * + +It was puzzling--inconceivable. Thorpe looked about him to note the +lifeboats snug and undisturbed in their places. No sign there of an +abandonment of the boat, but abandoned she was, as the silence told +only too plainly. And Thorpe, as he went below, had an uncanny feeling +of the crew's presence--as if they had been there, walked where he +walked, shouted and laughed a matter of a brief hour or two before. + +The door of the captain's cabin was burst in, hanging drunkenly from +one hinge. The log-book was open; there were papers on a rude desk. +The bunk was empty where the blankets had been thrown hurriedly +aside. Thorpe could almost see the skipper of this mystery ship +leaping frantically from his bed at some sudden call or commotion. A +chair was smashed and broken, and the man who examined it curiously +wiped from his hands a disgusting slime that was smeared stickily on +the splintered fragments. There was a fetid stench within his +nostrils, and he passed up further examination of this room. + +Forward in the fo'c'sle he felt again irresistibly the recent presence +of the crew. And again he found silence and emptiness and a disorder +that told of a fear-stricken flight. The odor that sickened and +nauseated the exploring man was everywhere. He was glad to gain the +freedom of the wind-swept deck and rid his lungs of the vile breath +within the vessel. + +He stood silent and bewildered. There was not a living soul aboard the +ship--no sign of life. He started suddenly. A moaning, whimpering cry +came from forward on the deck! + +Thorpe leaped across a disorder of tangled rope to race toward the +bow. He stopped short at sight of a battered cage. Again the moaning +came to him--there was something that still lived on board the +ill-fated ship. + + * * * * * + +He drew closer to see a great, huddled, furry mass that crouched and +cowered in a corner of the cage. A huge ape, Thorpe concluded, and it +moaned and whimpered absurdly like a human in abject fear. + +Had this been the terror that drove the men into the sea? Had this ape +escaped and menaced the officers and crew? Thorpe dismissed the +thought he well knew was absurd. The stout wood bars of the cage were +broken. It had been partially crushed, and the chain that held it to +the deck was extended to its full length. + +"Too much for me," the man said slowly, aloud; "entirely too much for +me! But I can't sail this old hooker alone; I'll have to get out and +let her drift." + +He removed completely one of the splintered bars from the broken cage. +"I've got to leave you, old fellow," he told the cowering animal, "but +I'll give you the run of the ship." + +He went below once more and came quickly back with the log-book and +papers from the captain's room. He tied these in a tight wrapping of +oilcloth from the galley and hung them at his belt. He took the wheel +again and brought the cumbersome craft slowly into the wind. The bare +mast of his own sloop was bobbing alongside as he went down the line +and swam over to her. + +Fending off from the wallowing hulk, he cut the line, and his small +craft slipped slowly astern as the big vessel fell off in the wind and +drew lumberingly away on its unguided course. + +She vanished into the clear-cut horizon before the watching man ceased +his staring and pricked a point upon his chart that he estimated was +his position. + +And he watched vainly for some sign of life on the heaving waters as +he set his sloop back on her easterly course. + + * * * * * + +It was a sun-tanned young man who walked with brisk strides into the +office of Admiral Struthers. The gold-striped arm of the uniformed man +was extended in quick greeting. + +"Made it, did you?" he exclaimed. "Congratulations!" + +"All O.K.," Thorpe agreed. "Ship and log are ready for your +verification." + +"Talk sense," said the officer. "Have any trouble or excitement? Or +perhaps you are more interested in collecting a certain bet than you +are in discussing the trip." + +"Damn the bet!" said the young man fervently. "And that's just what I +am here for--to talk about the trip. There were some little incidents +that may interest you." + +He painted for the Admiral in brief, terse sentences the picture of +that daybreak on the Pacific, the line of breakers, white in the +vanishing night, the abandoned ship beyond, cracking her canvas to +tatters in the freshening breeze. And he told of his boarding her and +of what he had found. + +"Where was this?" asked the officer, and Thorpe gave his position as +he had checked it. + +"I reported the derelict to a passing steamer that same day," he +added, but the Admiral was calling for a chart. He spread it on the +desk before him and placed the tip of a pencil in the center of an +unbroken expanse. + +"Breakers, you said?" he questioned. "Why, there are hundreds of +fathoms here, Mr. Thorpe." + + * * * * * + +"I know it," Thorpe agreed, "but I saw them--a stretch of white water +for an eighth of a mile. I know it's impossible, but true. But forget +that item for a time, Admiral. Look at this." He opened a brief case +and took out a log-book and some other papers. + +"The log of the _Minnie R._," he explained briefly. "Nothing in it but +routine entries up to that morning and then nothing at all." + +"Abandoned," mused the Admiral, "and they did not take to the boats. +There have been other instances--never explained." + +"See if this helps any," suggested Thorpe and handed the other two +sheets of paper. "They were in the captain's cabin," he added. + +Admiral Struthers glanced at them, then settled back in his chair. + +"Dated September fourth," he said. "That would have been the day +previous to the time you found her." The writing was plain, in a +careful, well-formed hand. He cleared his throat and read aloud: + +"Written by Jeremiah Wilkens of Salem, Mass., master of the _Minnie +R._, bound from Shanghai to San Pedro. I have sailed the seas for +forty years, and for the first time I am afraid. I hope I may destroy +this paper when the lights of San Pedro are safe in sight, but I am +writing here what it would shame me to set down in the ship's log, +though I know there are stranger happenings on the face of the waters +than man has ever seen--or has lived to tell. + + * * * * * + +"All this day I have been filled with fear. I have been watched--I +have felt it as surely as if a devil out of hell stood beside me with +his eyes fastened on mine. The men have felt it, too. They have been +frightened at nothing and have tried to conceal it as I have +done.--And the animals.... + +"A shark has followed us for days--it is gone to-day. The cats--we +have three on board--have howled horribly and have hidden themselves +in the cargo down below. The mate is bringing a big monkey to be sold +in Los Angeles. An orang-outang, he calls it. It has been an ugly +brute, shaking at the bars of its cage and showing its ugly teeth ever +since we left port. But to-day it is crouched in a corner of its cage +and will not stir even for food. The poor beast is in mortal terror. + +"All this is more like the wandering talk of an old woman muttering in +a corner by the fireside of witches and the like than it is like a +truthful account set down by Jeremiah Wilkins. And now that I have +written it I see there is nothing to tell. Nothing but the shameful +account of my fear of some horror beyond my knowing. And now that it +is written I am tempted to destroy--No, I will wait--" + +"And now what is this?" Admiral Struthers interrupted his reading to +ask. He turned the paper to read a coarse, slanting scrawl at the +bottom of the page. + +"The eyes--the eyes--they are everywhere above us--God help--" The +writing trailed off in a straggling line. + + * * * * * + +The lips beneath the trim gray mustache drew themselves into a hard +line. It was a moment before Admiral Struthers raised his eyes to +meet those of Robert Thorpe. + +"You found this in the captain's cabin?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"And the captain was--" + +"Gone." + +"Blood stains?" + +"No, but the door had been burst off its hinges. There had been a +struggle without a doubt." + +The officer mused for a minute or two. + +"Did they go aboard another vessel?" he pondered. "Abandon ship--open +the sea-cocks--sink it for the insurance?" He was trying vainly to +find some answer to the problem, some explanation that would not +impose too great a strain upon his own reason. + +"I have reported to the owners," said Thorpe. "The _Minnie R._ was not +heavily insured." + +The Admiral ruffled some papers on his desk to find a report. + +"There has been another," he told Thorpe. "A tramp freighter is listed +as missing. She was last reported due east of the position you give. +She was coming this way--must have come through about the same +water--" He caught himself up abruptly. Thorpe sensed that an Admiral +of the Navy must not lend too credulous an ear to impossible stories. + +"You've had an interesting experience, Mr. Thorpe," he said. "Most +interesting. Probably a derelict is the answer, some hull just afloat. +We will send out a general warning." + +He handed the loose papers and the log book to the younger man. "This +stuff is rubbish," he stated with emphasis. "Captain Wilkins held his +command a year or so too long." + +"You will do nothing about it?" Thorpe asked in astonishment. + +"I said I would warn all shipping; there is nothing more to be done." + +"I think there is." Thorpe's gray eye were steady as he regarded the +man at the desk. "I intend to run it down. There have been other such +instances, as you said--never explained. I mean to find the answer." + + * * * * * + +Admiral Struthers smiled indulgently. "Always after excitement," he +said. "You'll be writing another book, I expect. I shall look forward +to reading it ... but just what are you going to do?" + +"I am going to the Islands," said Thorpe quietly. "I am going to +charter a small ship of some sort, and I am going out there and camp +on that spot in the hope of seeing those eyes and what is behind them. +I am leaving to-night." + +Admiral Struthers leaned back to indulge in a hearty laugh. "I refused +you a passage on a destroyer once," he said, "and it was an expensive +mistake. I don't make the same mistake twice. Now I am going to offer +you a trip.... + +"The _Bennington_ is leaving to-day on a cruise to Manila. I'll hold +her an extra hour or two if you would like to go. She can drop you at +Honolulu or wherever you say. Lieutenant Commander Brent is in +command--you remember him in Manila, of course." + +"Fine," Thorpe responded. "I'll be there." + +"And," he added, as he took the Admiral's hand, "if I didn't object to +betting on a sure thing I would make you a little proposition. I would +bet any money that you would give your shirt to go along." + +"I never bet, either," said Admiral Struthers, "on a sure loss. Now +get out of here, you young trouble-shooter, and let the Navy get to +work." His eyes were twinkling as he waved the young man out. + + * * * * * + +Thorpe found himself comfortably fixed on the _Bennington_. Brent, her +commander, was a fine example of the aggressive young chaps that the +destroyer fleet breeds. And he liked to play cribbage, Thorpe found. +They were pegging away industriously the sixth night out when the +first S.O.S. reached them. A message was placed before the commander. +He read it and tossed it to Thorpe as he rose from his chair. + +"S.O.S.," said the radio sheet, "_Nagasaki Maru_, twenty-four +thirty-five N., one five eight West. Struck something unknown. Down at +the bow. May need help. Please stand by." + +Captain Brent had left the room. A moment later, and the quiver and +tremble of the _Bennington_ told Thorpe they were running full speed +for the position of the stricken ship. + +But: "Twenty-four thirty-five North," he mused, "and less than two +degrees west of where the poor old _Minnie R._ got hers. I wonder ... +I wonder...." + +"We will be there in four hours," said Captain Brent on his return. +"Hope she lasts. But what have they struck out there? Derelict +probably, though she should have had Admiral Struthers' warning." + +Robert Thorpe made no reply other than: "Wait here a minute, Brent. I +have something to show you." + + * * * * * + +He had not told the officer of his mission nor of his experience, but +he did so now. And he placed before him the wildly improbable +statement of the late Captain Wilkins. + +"Something is there," surmised Captain Brent, "just awash, +probably--no superstructure visible. Your _Minnie R._ hit the same +thing." + +"Something is there," Thorpe agreed. "I wish I knew what." + +"This stuff has got to you, has it?" asked Brent as he returned the +papers of Captain Wilkins. He was quite evidently amused at the +thought. + +"You weren't on the ship," said Thorpe, simply. "There was nothing to +see--nothing to tell. But I know...." + +He followed Brent to the wireless room. + +"Can you get the _Nagasaki_?" Brent asked. + +"They know we are coming, sir," said the operator. "We seem to be the +only one anywhere near." + +He handed the captain another message. "Something odd about that," he +said. + +"_U. S. S. Bennington_," the captain read aloud. "We are still afloat. +On even keel now, but low in water. No water coming in. Engines full +speed ahead, but we make no headway. Apparently aground. _Nagasaki +Maru._" + +"Why, that's impossible," Brent exclaimed impatiently. "What kind of +foolishness--" He left the question uncompleted. The radio man was +writing rapidly. Some message was coming at top speed. Both Brent and +Thorpe leaned over the man's shoulder to read as he wrote. + +"_Bennington_ help," the pencil was writing, "sinking fast--decks +almost awash--we are being--" + +In breathless silence they watched the pencil, poised above the paper +while the operator listened tensely to the silent night. + + * * * * * + +Again his ear received the wild jumble of dots and dashes sent by a +frenzied hand in that far-off room. His pencil automatically set down +the words. "Help--help--" it wrote before Thorpe's spellbound gaze, +"the eyes--the eyes--it is attack--" + +And again the black night held only the rush and roar of torn waters +where the destroyer raced quivering through the darkness. The message, +as the waiting men well knew, would never be completed. + +"A derelict!" Robert Thorpe exclaimed with unconscious scorn. But +Captain Brent was already at a communication tube. + +"Chief? Captain Brent. Give her everything you've got. Drive the +_Bennington_ faster than she ever went before." + +The slim ship was a quivering lance of steel that threw itself through +foaming waters, that shot with an endless, roaring surge of speed +toward that distant point in the heaving waste of the Pacific, and +that seemed, to the two silent men on the bridge, to put the dragging +miles behind them so slowly--so slowly. + +"Let me see those papers," said Captain Brent, finally. + + * * * * * + +He read them in silence. + +Then: "The eyes!" he said. "The eyes! That is what this other poor +devil said. My God, Thorpe, what is it? What can it be? We're not all +insane." + +"I don't know what I expected to find," said Thorpe slowly. "I had +thought of many things, each wilder than the next. This Captain +Wilkins said the eyes were above him. I had visions of some sky +monster ... I had even thought of some strange aircraft from out in +space, perhaps, with round lights like eyes. I have pictured +impossibilities! But now--" + +"Yes," the other questioned, "now?" + +"There were tales in olden times of the Kraken," suggested Thorpe. + +"The Kraken!" the captain scoffed. "A mythical monster of the sea. +Why, that was just a fable." + +"True," was the quiet reply, "that was just a fable. And one of the +things I have learned is how frequently there is a basis of fact +underlying a fable. And, for that matter, how can we know there is no +such monster, some relic of a Mesozoic species supposed to be +extinct?" + +He stood motionless, staring far out ahead into the dark. And Brent, +too, was silent. They seemed to try with unaided eyes to penetrate the +dark miles ahead and see what their sane minds refused to accept. + + * * * * * + +It was still dark when the search-light's sweeping beam picked up the +black hull and broad, red-striped funnels of the _Nagasaki Maru_. She +was riding high in the water, and her big bulk rolled and wallowed in +the trough of the great swells. + +The _Bennington_ swept in a swift circle about the helpless hulk while +the lights played incessantly upon her decks. And the watching eyes +strained vainly for some signal to betoken life, for some sign that +their mad race had not been quite vain. Her engines had been shut +down; there was no steerage-way for the _Nagasaki Maru_, and, from all +they could see, there were no human hands to drag at the levers of her +waiting engines nor to twirl with sure touch the deserted helm. The +_Nagasaki Maru_ was abandoned. + +The lights held steadily upon her as the _Bennington_ came alongside +and a boat was swung out smartly in its davits. But Thorpe knew he was +not alone in his wild surmise as to the cause of the catastrophe. + +"Throw your lights around the water occasionally," Brent ordered. "Let +me know if you see anything." + +"Yes sir," said the man at the search-light. "I will report if I spot +any survivors or boats." + +"Report anything you see," said Commander Brent curtly. + +"You go aboard if you want to," he suggested to Thorpe. "I will stay +here and be ready if you need help." + +Thorpe nodded with approval as the small boat pulled away in the dark, +for there was activity apparent on the destroyer not warranted by a +mere rescue at sea. Gun-crews rushed to their stations; the tarpaulin +covers were off of the guns, and their slender lengths gleamed where +they covered the course of the boat. + +"Brent is ready," Thorpe admitted, "for anything." + + * * * * * + +They found the iron ladder against the ship's side, and a sailor +sprang for it and made his way aboard. Thorpe was not the last to set +foot on deck, and he shuddered involuntarily at the eery silence he +knew awaited them. + +It was the _Minnie R._ over again, as he expected, but with a +difference. The sailing vessel, before he boarded it, had been for +some time exposed to the sun, while the _Nagasaki Maru_ had not. And +here there were slimy trails still wet on the decks. + +He went first to the wireless room. He must know the final answer to +that interrupted message, and he found it in emptiness. No radio man +was waiting him there, nor even a body to show the loser of an unequal +battle. But there was blood on the door-jamb where a body--the man's +body, Thorpe was sure--had been smashed against the wood. A wisp of +black hair in the blood gave its mute evidence of the hopeless fight. +And the slime, like the trails on the deck, smeared with odorous +vileness the whole room. + +Thorpe went again to the deck, and, as on the other ship, he breathed +deeply to rid his lungs and nostrils of the abhorrent stench. The +ensign in charge of the boarding party approached. + +"What kind of a rotten mess is this?" he demanded. "The ship is filthy +and not a soul on board. Not a man of them, officers or crew, and the +boats are all here. It's absolutely amazing, isn't it?" + +"No," Thorpe told him, "about what we expected. What do you make of +this?" He touched with his foot a broad trail that shone wet in the +_Bennington's_ lights. + +"The Lord knows," said the ensign in wonder. "It's all over and it +smells like a rotten dead fish. Well, we will be going back, sir." He +called to a petty officer to round up the men, and the boat was +brought alongside. + + * * * * * + +Their return to the _Bennington_ again through a pathway of light that +Thorpe knew was safe under the black muzzles of the destroyer's guns. + +Or was it, he asked himself. Safe! Was anything safe from this +devilish mystery that could pluck each cowering human from the lowest +depths of this steel freighter, that could drag her down in the water +till the radio man sent his cry: "We are sinking!..." + +He told Brent quietly, after the ensign had reported, of the struggles +in the wireless room and its few remaining traces. And he watched with +the commander through the hour of darkness while the _Bennington_ +steamed in slow circles about the abandoned hulk, while her +search-lights played endlessly over the empty waters and the men at +the guns cast wondering glances at their skipper who ordered such +strange procedure when no danger was there. + +With daylight the scene lost its sense of mysterious threat, and +Thorpe was eager to return to the abandoned ship. + +"I might find something," he said, "some trace or indication of what +we have to fight." + +"I must leave," said Commander Brent. "Oh, I'm coming back, never +fear," he added, at the look of dismay on Thorpe's face. The thought +of leaving this mystery unsolved was more than that young seeker after +adventure could accept. + +"I'm coming back," Brent repeated. "I've been in communication with +the Admiral--Honolulu has relayed the messages through. All code, of +course; we mustn't alarm the whole Pacific with our nightmares. The +old man says to stick around and get the low-down on this damn thing." + +"Then why leave?" objected Thorpe. + + * * * * * + +"Because I am coming around to your way of thinking, Thorpe. Because I +am as certain as can be that we have a monster of some sort to deal +with ... and because I haven't any depth charges. I want to run up to +the supply station at Honolulu and get a couple of ash-cans of TNT to +lay on top of the brute if we sight him." + +"Glory be!" said Thorpe fervently. "That sounds like business. Go and +get your eggs and perhaps we can feed them to this devil--raw.... And +I think I'll stay here, if you will be back by dark." + +"Better not," the other objected; but Thorpe overruled him. + +"This thing attacks in the dark," he said. "I will lay a little bet on +that. It left the orang-outang on the _Minnie R._--quit at the first +sign of daylight. I will be safe through the day, and besides, the +beast has gutted this ship. It won't return, I imagine. And if I stay +there for the day--live as they lived, the men who manned that ship--I +may have some information that will be of help when you get back. But +for Heaven's sake, Brent, don't stop to pick any flowers on the way." + +"It's your funeral," said Brent not too cheerfully. "The old man said +to give you every assistance, and perhaps that includes helping you +commit suicide." + +But Robert Thorpe only laughed as Commander Brent gave his orders for +a small boat to be lowered. A ship's lantern and rockets for night +signals were taken at the officer's orders. "We'll be back before +dark," he said, "but take these as a precaution." + +One favor Thorpe asked--that the ship's carpenter go over with him and +help him to make a strong-barred retreat of the wireless cabin. + +"And I'll talk to you occasionally," he told Brent. "I tried the key +while I was aboard; the wireless is working on its batteries." + +He waved a cheery good-by as the small boat pulled away. "And hurry +back," he called. The destroyer commander nodded an emphatic assent. + + * * * * * + +On board the _Nagasaki Maru_, Thorpe directed the carpenter and his +helpers in the work he wanted done. The man seemed to know +instinctively where to put his hands on needed supplies, and the +result was a virtual cage of strong oak bars enclosing the wireless +room, and braces of oak to bar the single door. Thorpe was not +assuming any bravado in his feeling of safety, but he was doing what +he had done in many other tight corners, and he prepared his defences +in advance. + +These included weapons of offense as well. As the boat with the +destroyer's men pulled back to the _Bennington_, he placed in easy +reach in a corner of the room a heavy calibered rifle he had taken +from his belongings. + +And, still, with all his feeling of security, there was a strange +depression fell upon him when the _Bennington's_ narrow hull was small +upon the horizon, and then that, too, was gone and only the heaving +swells and the wallowing hulk were his companions. + +Only these? He shivered slightly as he thought of that unseen watcher +with the devil-eyes whose presence Captain Wilkins had felt--and his +men, and the poor terrified ape! He deliberately put from his mind the +thought of this; no use to start the day with morbid fears. He went +below to examine the cabins. But he carried the heavy elephant gun +with him wherever he went. + + * * * * * + +Below decks the signs of the marauder were everywhere, yet there was +little to be learned. The slimy trails dried quickly and vanished, but +not before Thorpe had traced them to the uttermost depths of the ship. + +There was not a nook or corner that had gone unsearched in the +horrible quest for human food. And one thing impressed itself forcibly +upon the man's mind. He found a lantern, and he used it of necessity +in his explorations, but this thing had gone through the dark and with +unerring certainty had found its way to every victim. + +"Can it see in the dark?" Thorpe questioned. "Or...." He visioned +dimly some denizen of the vast depths, living beyond the limits of the +sun's penetration, far in the abysmal darkness where its only light +must be self-made. But his mind failed in the attempt to picture what +manner of horror this thing might be. + +Even in the hold its evil traces were found. There were tiers of metal +drums that still shone wet in his lantern's light. Calcium +carbide--for making acetylene, he supposed--marked "Made in U.S.A." +The _Nagasaki_ must have been westward bound. + + * * * * * + +He went, after an hour or so, to the wireless room, and only when he +relaxed in the safety of his improvised fortress did he realize how +tense had been every nerve and muscle through his long search. He +tried the wireless and got an instant response from the destroyer. + +"Don't shoot it too fast," he spelled out slowly to the distant +operator: "I am only a dub. Just wanted to say hello and report all +O.K." + +"Fine," was the steady, careful response. "We have had a little +trouble with our condensers--" There was a short pause, then the +message continued, this portion dictated by the commander. "Delay not +important. We will be back as agreed. Have picked up _S. S. Adelaide_ +bound east in your latitude. Warned her to take northerly course +account derelict. See you later. Signed, Brent, commanding _U. S. S. +Bennington_." + +The man in the barred room tapped off his acknowledgement and closed +the key. He suddenly realized he had had no breakfast, and the hours +had been slipping past. He took his gun again and went down to the +galley to prepare some coffee. It was not the time or place for an +enjoyable meal, but he would have relished it more had he not pictured +the _Adelaide_ and her lovely owner steaming across these threatening +seas. + +He knew the captain of the _Adelaide_. "Obstinate pigheaded old +Scotchman!" "Hope he takes Brent's advice. Of course Brent couldn't +tell him the truth. We can't blat this wild yarn all over the air or +the passenger lines would have our scalps. But I wish the _Adelaide_ +was safe in Manila." + + * * * * * + +His explorations in the afternoon were half-hearted and perfunctory. +There was nothing more to be learned. But he had seen in his mind some +vague outline of what they must meet. He saw a something, mammoth, +huge, that could grasp and hold an ocean freighter--against whose +great body he had seen the waves dash in a line of white spray. Yet a +something that could force its way down narrow passages, could press +with terrific strength on bolted doors and crush them inward, wrecked +and splintered. Some serpentine thing that felt and saw its way and +crawled so surely through the dark--found its prey--seized it--and +carried off a man as easily as it might a mouse. + +No octopus, no matter what proportions, filled the description. He +gave up trying to see too clearly the awful thing. And he kept away +from the ship's rail when once he had ventured near. For there had +come to him a feeling of fear that had sent the waves of cold +trickling and prickling up his spine. Was there something really +there?... A waiting lurking horror in the depths? + +"The eyes," he thought, "the eyes!..." And he went more quickly than +he knew to his barred retreat where again he might breathe quietly. + + * * * * * + +The position of the deserted ship was south of the regular steamer +lanes on the TransPacific run. Only a trace of smoke on the northern +horizon marked through the afternoon the passage of other craft. It +was a long and lonely vigil for the waiting man. But the _Bennington_ +would return, and he listened in at intervals hoping to hear her +friendly signal. + +The batteries operating the _Nagasaki's_ wireless were none too +strong; Thorpe saved their strength, though he tried at times to raise +the _Bennington_ somewhere beyond his reach. + +The sun was touching the horizon when he got his first response. "Keep +up the old nerve," admonished the slow, careful sending of the +_Bennington's_ operator. "We have been delayed but we are on our way. +Signed, Brent." + +The man in the wireless room placed the oak bars across the door, and +tried to believe he was nonchalant and unafraid as he laid out extra +clips of cartridges. But his eyes persisted in following the sinking +sun, and he watched from within his cage the coming of the quick dark. + +The protecting glare of day must be unbearable to this monster from +the lightless depths, and daylight was vanishing. Thorpe's mind was +searching for additional means of defense. He found it in the cargo he +had seen. The drums of carbide! He could scatter it on the deck--it +reacted with water, and those slimy arms, if they came and touched it, +could find the contact hot. He took his lantern and went hastily below +to stagger back with a drum upon his shoulder. + +In the half-light that was left him he forced the cover and then +rolled the drum about the swaying deck. The gray, earthly lumps of +carbide formed erratic lines. Useless perhaps, he admitted, but the +threatening dark forced the man to use every means at his command. + + * * * * * + +He was scattering the contents of a second drum when he stiffened +abruptly to rigid attention. + +The ship, thrown broadside to the wide-spaced swells, had rolled +endlessly with a monotonous motion. But now the deck beneath him was +steadying. It assumed an abnormal levelness. The boat rose and fell +with the waves, but it no longer rolled. There was something beneath +holding, drawing on it. + +Thorpe knew in that frozen second what it meant. The drum clattered to +the rail as he dashed for his room. Gun in hand, he watched with +staring eyes where the deserted deck showed dim and vague in the light +of the stars and the bow of the ship was lost in the uncertain dark of +night. + +Wide-eyed he watched into the blackness, and he listened with +desperate attention for some slightest sound beyond the splashing of +waves and the creaking of spars. + +Far in the west a light appeared, to glow and vanish and glow again in +the tumbling waters. The _Bennington_! His heart leaped at the +thought, then sank as he knew the destroyer's lights would not appear +from that direction. + +Through a slow hour that seemed an eternity the oncoming ship drew +near, and he knew with a sudden, startling certainty that it was the +_Adelaide_--and Ruth Allaire--coming on, through into the horror +awaiting. + +He leaned forward tensely as a sound reached his ears. A ghostly echo +of a sound, like the softest of smooth, slipping fabric upon hard +steel. And as he listened, before his staring eyes, a something came +between him and the lighted yacht. + +It wavered and swung in the darkness. It was formless, uncertain of +outline, and it swung in the night out beyond the ship's rail till it +suddenly neared, waved high overhead, and the cold light of the stars +shone in pale reflection from an enormous, staring eye. + +It surmounted a serpentine form that took shape in the dim radiance +without and came lower in undulating folds to crash heavily upon the +deck. + + * * * * * + +Thorpe's hand was upon the wireless key. He had wanted to warn off the +yacht, but not till the thud of the creature on the bare deck proved +its reality could he force his cold fingers to press the key. + +Then, fast as his inexperience allowed, he called frantically for the +_Adelaide_. He spelled her name, over and over.... Would the sleepy +operator never answer? + +The _Bennington_ broke in one. "Is that you, Thorpe? What is up?" they +demanded. + +But Thorpe kept up his slow spelling of the yacht's name. He must get +a warning to them! Then he realized that the _Bennington_ could do it +better. + +"_Bennington_," he called, "_Adelaide_ approaching. I am attacked. +Warn them off. Warn them--" His frantic, hissing dots and dashes died +immediately. Beneath his feet the _Nagasaki Maru_ was rolling again, +swinging free to the lift and thrust of the swells beneath. + +"Good God!" he shouted aloud in his lonely cabin. "It's gone for the +yacht. _Adelaide_--turn north--full speed--" he clicked off on a slow, +stuttering key. "Head north. You are being attacked!" He groaned again +as he saw the _Adelaide's_ shining ports swing away from the safety of +the north; the ship broached broadside to the waves and came slowly to +a stop. + +"_Bennington_," he radioed. "Brent--it has got the _Adelaide_. +Help--hurry! I am going over." + +He tore wildly at the barred door, and he made a dash across the deck +to slip sprawling in a heap against the rail where the slimy traces of +the recent visitor stretched glistening on the deck. + + * * * * * + +How he lowered the boat Thorpe never knew. But he knew there was one +that the men from the _Bennington_ had swung over the side, and tore +madly at the tackle to let the boat crash miraculously upright into +the sea. He slung the rifle about his neck with a rope end--there were +cartridges in his pocket--and he went down the dangling lines and cast +off in a frenzy of haste. + +What could he do? He hardly dared form the question. Only this stood +clear and unanswerable in his mind: The yacht was in the monster's +grip, and Ruth Allaire was there on board. Ruth Allaire, so smiling, +so friendly, so lovable! Food for that horror from the depths.... He +rowed with super-human strength to drive the heavy boat across the +wave-swept distance that separated them. + +Between gasping breaths he turned at times to glance over his shoulder +and correct his course. And now, as he drew near, he saw though +indistinct the unmistakable, snakelike weaving of horrible tenuous +fingers, rolling and groping about the yacht. + +They were plain as he drew alongside. The trim ship rose and fell with +the water, while over her side where Thorpe approached swung a long, +white monstrous rope of flesh. It retreated like the lash of a whip, +and the horrified watcher saw as it went the struggling figure of a +man in the grasp of flabby lips. And above them a single eye glared +wickedly. + +Another vile, twisting arm rose from the afterdeck with a screaming +figure in its grasp and vanished into the water beyond the yacht. +There were others writhing about the decks. Thorpe saw them as he made +his boat fast and clambered aboard. + + * * * * * + +A wave of reeking air enveloped him as he reached the deck; the +nauseous stench from the monster's tentacles was horrible beyond +endurance. He gagged and choked as the stifling breath entered his +lungs. + +A huge rope of slippery, throbbing flesh stretched its twisted length +toward the stern. It contracted as he watched into bulging muscular +rings and withdrew from the afterdeck. The deadly end of it stopped in +mid-air not twenty feet from where he stood. The jawlike pincers on it +held the limp form of an officer in its sucking grip, while above, in +a protuberance like a gnarled horn, a great eye glared into Thorpe's +with devilish hatred. + +The beak opened sharply to drop its unconscious burden upon the deck, +and the watching man, petrified with horror, saw within the gaping maw +great sucking discs and beyond them a brilliant glow. The whole +cavernous pit was aflame with phosphorescent light. Dimly he knew that +this light explained the ability of the beastly arms to grope so +surely in the dark. + +The eye narrowed as the gaping, fleshy jaws distended, and Robert +Thorpe, in a flash that galvanized him to action, was aware that his +fight for life was on. He fired blindly from the hip, and the recoil +of the heavy gun almost tore it from his hands. But he knew he had +aimed true, and the toothless, seeking jaws whipped in agony back into +the sea. + +There were other arms whose eyes were searching the stern of the +yacht. Thorpe plunged frenziedly down a companionway for the cabin he +knew was Ruth Allaire's. Was he in time? Could he save her if he found +her? His mind was in a turmoil of half-formed plans as he rushed madly +down the corridor to find the body of the girl a limp huddle across +the threshold of her cabin. + + * * * * * + +She was alive; he knew it as he swung her soft body across one +shoulder and staggered with his burden up the stairs. If he could only +breathe! His throat was tight and strangling with the reeking +putrescence in the air. And before his eyes was a picture of the +strong oak bars of his own retreat. Somehow, some way, he must get +back to the abandoned ship. + +An eye detected him as he came on deck, and he dropped the limp body +of the girl at his feet as he swung his rifle toward the glowing light +within the opening jaws. The sucking discs cupped and wrinkled in +dread readiness in the fleshy, toothless opening. He emptied the +magazine into the head, though he knew this was only a feeler and a +feeder for a still more horrible mouth in the monstrous body that rose +and fell tremendously in the dark waters beyond. But it was typical of +Robert Thorpe that even in the horror and frenzy of the moment he +rammed another clip of cartridges into his rifle before he stooped to +again raise the prostrate figure of Ruth Allaire. + +The forward deck for the moment was clear; it rose high with the +weight of the writhing, twisting arms that weighed down the stern of +the yacht where the crew had taken refuge. + +To think of helping them was worse than folly--he dismissed the +thought as another great eye came over the rail. Once more he used the +gun, then lowered the girl to the waiting boat, and cast off and rowed +with the stealthiest of strokes into the dark. + + * * * * * + +Behind him were whipping points of light above the white brilliance of +the yacht _Adelaide_. The boat was tossing in great waves that came +from beyond, where a body, incredibly huge, was tearing the waters to +foam. There were ghostly arms that shone in slimy wetness, that lashed +searchingly in all directions, as the monster gave vent to its fury at +Thorpe's attack. There were screaming human figures grasped in many of +the jaws, and the man was glad with a great thankfulness that the +girl's stupor could save her from the frightful sight. + +He dared to row now, and his breath was coming in great choking sobs +of sheer exhaustion when at last he pulled the senseless form of Ruth +Allaire to the deck of the _Nagasaki_ and drew her within the frail +shelter of the wireless room. + +Stout had the oaken bars appeared, and safe his refuge in the +barricaded room, but that was before he had seen in horrible reality +the fearful fury of this monster from the deep. He placed the braces +against the door and turned with hopeless haste to seize the wireless +key. + +"_Bennington_," he called, and the answer came strong and clear. +"Where are you.... Help--" His fingers froze upon the key and the +answering message in his ears was unheeded as he watched across the +water the destruction of the yacht. + +This craft that had dared to resist the onset of the brute, to fight +against it, to wound it, was feeling the full fury of the monster's +rage. The gleaming lights of the doomed ship were waving lines that +swept to and fro in the grip of those monstrous arms. The boat beneath +Thorpe's feet was tossing in the waves that told of the titanic +struggle. He had meant to look south for some sign of the oncoming +destroyer, but in fearful fascination he stared spellbound where the +masts of the trim yacht swept downward into the waves, where the green +of her star-board lantern glowed faintly for an instant, then +vanished, to leave only the darkness and the starlit sea. + + * * * * * + +A voice aroused him from his stupefaction. "Where am I ... where am +I?" Ruth Allaire was asking in a frightened whisper. "That terrible +thing--" She shuddered violently as memory returned to show again the +horror she had witnessed. "Where are we, Robert? And the +_Adelaide_--where is it?" + +Thorpe turned slowly. The insane turmoil of the past hour had numbed +his brain, stunned him. + +"The _Adelaide_--" he mumbled, and groped fumblingly for coherent +thoughts. He stared at the girl. She was half-risen from the floor +where he had laid her, and the sight of her quivering face brought +reason again to his mind. He knelt tenderly beside her and raised her +in his arms. + +"Where is the yacht?" she repeated. "The _Adelaide_?" + +"Gone," Thorpe told her. "Lost!" A thought struck him. + +"Was your father on board, Ruth?" + +Ruth was dazed. + +"Lost," she repeated. "The _Adelaide_--lost!... No," she added in +belated response to Thorpe's question. "Daddy was not there. But the +men--Captain MacPherson ... that horrible monster...." She buried her +face in her hands as she realized what Thorpe's silence meant. + +He held the trembling figure close as the girl whispered: "Where are +we, Robert? Are we safe?" + +"We may win through yet," he told her through grim, set lips. He +realized abruptly that he was seeing the face of Ruth Allaire in the +light. He had left a lantern burning! He withdrew his arms from about +her and sprang quickly to his feet to put out the tell-tale light. In +darkness and quiet was their only safety. And he knew as he sprang +that he had waited too long. A soft body crashed heavily on the deck +outside. + + * * * * * + +The girl's voice was shrill with terror as she began a question. +Thorpe's hand pressed upon her lips in the dark where he stood +waiting--waiting. + +A luminous something was glowing outside the cabin. It searched and +prodded about the deserted deck to whip upward at the audible hiss of +wet carbide. Another appeared; the rifle came slowly to the man's +shoulder as a pair of jaws gaped glowingly beyond the windows and an +eye stared unblinkingly from its hornlike sheath. It crashed madly +against the walls of the wireless room to shatter the glass and make +kindling of the woodwork of the sash. Thorpe fired once and again +before the specter vanished, and he knew with sickening certainty that +the wounds were only messages to some central brain that would send +other ravening tentacles against them. But the oak bars had held. + +He reached in the brief interval for the key, and he sent out one +final call for help. He strained his ears against the head-set for +some friendly human word of hope. + +"--rocket," the wireless man was saying. "Fire rockets. We can't +find--" A swift, writhing arm wrapped crushingly about the cabin as +the message ceased. + + * * * * * + +Thorpe seized his rifle and fired into the gray mass that bulged with +terrible muscular contractions through the window. He fired again to +aim lengthways of the arm and inflict as damaging a wound as his +weapon would permit. + +The arm relaxed, but a score of others took up the attack. Again the +sickening stench was about them as gaping jaws gleamed fiery beneath +the hateful eyes and tore at the flimsy structure. Thorpe jammed more +cartridges into the gun and fired again and again, then dropped the +weapon to fumble for the rockets that Brent had given him. + +He lighted one with trembling fingers; the first ball shot straight +into a waiting mouth. Another ignited a searing flame of acetlylene +gas where a wet arm writhed in the hot carbide trail. The man leaned +far out through the broken window. + +No time to look around. He let the red flares stream upward high into +the air, then dropped the rocket hissing on the deck to seize once +more the rifle. + +A mass of muscle crashed against the door; it went to splinters under +the impact, and only the two oak bars remained to hold in check the +horrible tentacles and the darting heads. One mouth closed to a +pointed end that forced its way between the bars. The oak gave under +the strain as Robert Thorpe pulled vainly at an empty gun. Beside him +rose shrieks of terror as the monstrous thing came on, and Thorpe beat +with frantic fury with his clubbed rifle at the fleshy snout. + +He knew as he swung the weapon that the shrieks had ceased, then +smiled grimly in the numbing horror as he realized that Ruth Allaire +was beside him. A piece of oak was in her hands, and she was striking +with desperate and silent fury at the slimy flesh. + + * * * * * + +It was the end, Thorpe knew, and suddenly he was glad. The nightmare +was over, and the end was coming with this girl beside him. But Robert +Thorpe was fighting on to the last, and he tried to make his blows +reach outward to the hateful devilish eye. + +He saw it plainly now, for the deck was a glare of white light. He saw +the eye and the thick arm behind it and the score of others that made +a heaving, knotted mass were brilliant and wetly shining. He could see +now how best to strike, and he turned his gun to thrust with the +barrel at the eye. + +It withdrew before his stroke--the jaws slid backward to the deck. +There were sounds that hammered at his ears. "The guns! The guns!" a +girl was screaming. Across the deck, where a search-light played, +huge arms were lashing backward toward the sea. The waves beyond had +vanished where a monstrous body shone wetly black in a blinding glare. + +And the man hung panting, helpless, on the one remaining bar across +the doorway to look where, beyond, her forward guns a spitting stream +of staccato flashes, the _Bennington_ tore the waves to high-thrown +spray. Her four clean funnels swung far over as the slim ship, with +her stabbing, crashing guns, swung in a sweeping circle to bear down +upon the black bulk slowly sinking in the search-light's glare. + +The vast body had vanished as the destroyer shot like one of her own +projectiles over the spot where the beast had lain. And then, where +she had passed, the sea arose in a heaving mound. The big ship beneath +the watching man shuddered again as another depth charge grumbled its +challenge to the master of the deeps. + + * * * * * + +The warship went careening on an arc to return and throw the full +glare of her search-lights on the scene. They lighted a vast sea, +strangely stilled. An oily smoothness leveled waves and ironed them +out to show more clearly the convulsions of a torn mass that rose +slowly into sight. + +Thorpe in some way found himself outside the cabin. And he knew that +the girl was again beside him as he stared and stared at what the +waters held. A bloated serpent form beyond believing was struggling in +the greasy swell. Its waving tentacles again were flung aloft in +impotent fury, and, beneath them, where their thick ends jointed the +body, a head with one horrible eye rose into the air. A thick-lipped +mouth gaped open, and the gleam of molars shone white in the blinding +glare. + +The twisting body shuddered throughout its vast bulk, and the waving +arms and futile staring eyes dropped helpless into the splashing sea. +Again the revolting head was raised as the destroyer sent a rain of +shells into its fearful mass. Once more the oily seas were calm. They +closed over the whirling vortex where a denizen of the lightless +depths was returning to those distant, subterranean caverns--returning +as food for what other voracious monsters might still exist. + +The man's arm was about the figure of the girl, trembling anew in a +fresh reaction from the horror they had escaped, when a small boat +drew alongside. + +"They're safe," a hoarse voice bellowed back to the destroyer, and a +man came monkeywise up a rope where Thorpe had launched his boat. + +And now, as one in a dream, Thorpe allowed the girl to be taken from +him, to be lowered to the waiting boat. He clambered down himself and +in silence was rowed across to the destroyer. + +"Thank God!" said Brent, as he met them at the rail. "You're safe, old +man ... and Miss Allaire ... both of you! You let off that rocket just +in time; we couldn't pick you up with our light-- + +"And now," he added, "we're going back; back to San Diego. The Admiral +wants a word of mouth report." + +Thorpe stilled him with a heavy gesture. "Give Ruth an opiate," he +said dully. "Let her forget ... forget!... Good God, can we ever +forget--" He stumbled forward, heedless of Brent's arm across his +shoulders as the surgeon took the girl in charge. + + * * * * * + +Admiral Struthers, U.S.N., leaned back from his desk and blew a cloud +of smoke thoughtfully toward the ceiling. He looked silently from +Thorpe to Commander Brent. + +"If either one of you had come to me with such a report," he said +finally, "I would have found it incredible; I would have thought you +were entirely insane, or trying some wild hoax." + +"I wish it were a damn lie," said Thorpe quietly. "I wish I didn't +have to believe it." There were new lines about the young-old eyes, +lines that spoke what the lips would not confess of sleepless nights +and the impress of a picture he could not erase. + +"Well, we have kept it out of the papers," said the Admiral. "Said it was a +derelict, and the wild messages floating about were from an inexperienced +man, frightened and irresponsible. Bad advertising--very--for the passenger +lines." + +"Quite," Commander Brent agreed, "but of course Mr. Thorpe may want to +use this in his next book of travel. He has earned the right without +doubt." + +"No," said Thorpe emphatically. "No! I told you, Brent, there was +often a factual basis for fables--remember? Well, we have proved that. +But sometimes it is best to leave the fables just fables. I think you +will agree." A light step sounded in the corridor beyond. "Nothing of +this to Miss Allaire," he said sharply. + +The men rose as Ruth Allaire entered the room. "We were just +speaking," said the Admiral with an engaging smile beneath his +close-cut mustache, "of the matter of a bet. Mr. Thorpe has won +handily, and he has taught me a lesson." + +He took a check book from his desk. "What charity would you like to +name, Miss Allaire? That was left to you, you remember." + +"Some seamen's home," said Ruth Allaire gravely. "You will know best, +if you two are really serious about that silly bet." + +"That bet, my dear," said Robert Thorpe with smiling eyes, "was very +serious ... and it has had most serious consequences." He turned to +the waiting men and extended a hand in farewell. + +"We are going to Europe, Ruth and I," he told them. "Just rambling +around a bit. Our honeymoon, you know. Look us up if you're cruising +out that way." + + + + +Murder Madness + +PART TWO OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL + +_By Murray Leinster_ + +[Illustration: "_As the madness grew, the two men fought. They were +murder mad. The local sub-deputy gave his guests the thrill of +watching maniacs battling to the death._"] + +[Sidenote: Bell, of the secret "Trade," strikes into the South +American jungle to find the hidden stronghold of The Master--the +unknown monster whose diabolical poison swiftly and surely is +enslaving the whole continent.] + + +Seven United States Secret Service men have disappeared in South +America. Another is found--a screaming homicidal maniac. It is rumored +that they are victims of a diabolical poison which produces "murder +madness." + +Charley Bell, of the "Trade"--a secret service organization that does +not officially exist--discovers that a sinister system of slavery is +flourishing in South America, headed by a mysterious man known only as +The Master. This slavery is accomplished by means of a poison which +causes its victims to experience a horrible writhing of the hands, +followed by a madness to do murder, two weeks after the poison is +taken. + +The victims get relief only with an antidote supplied through Ribiera, +The Master's Chief Deputy; but in the antidote there is more of the +poison which again in two weeks will take effect. And so it is that a +person who once receives the poison is forever enslaved. + +[Illustration] + +Bell learns that Ribiera has kidnapped Paula Canalejas, daughter of a +Brazilian cabinet minister--himself a victim--who has killed himself +on feeling the "murder madness," caused by the poison, coming over +him. Bell corners Ribiera in his home, buries the muzzles of two +six-guns in his stomach, and demands that he set Paula free. + + +CHAPTER VI + +In this room the electric lights were necessary at all times. And it +occurred to Bell irrelevantly that perhaps there were no windows +because there might be sometimes rather noisy scenes within these +walls. And windows will convey the sound of screaming to the outside +air, while solid walls will not. + +He stood alert and grim, with his revolvers pressing into Ribiera's +flabby flesh. His fingers were tensed upon the triggers. If he killed +Ribiera, he would be killed. Of course. And men and women he had known +and liked might be doomed to the most horrible of fates by Ribiera's +death. Yet even the death or madness of many men was preferable to the +success of the conspiracy in which Ribiera seemed to figure largely. + +Ribiera looked up at him with the eyes of a terrified snake. There was +a little stirring at the door. + +"Your friends," said Bell softly, "had better not come close." + +Ribiera gasped an order. The stirrings stopped. Paula came slowly into +the room quite alone. She smiled queerly at Bell. + +"I believed that you would come," she said quietly. "And yet I do not +know that we can escape." + +"We're going to try," said Bell grimly. To Ribiera he added curtly, +"You'd better order the path cleared to the door, and have one of your +cars brought around." + + * * * * * + +Ribiera croaked a repetition of the command. + +"Now stand up--slowly," said Bell evenly. "Very slowly. I don't want +to die, Ribiera, so I don't want to kill you. But I haven't much hope +of escape, so I shan't hesitate very long about doing it. And I've got +these guns' hammers trembling at full cock. If I get a bullet through +my head, they'll go off just the same and kill you." + +Ribiera got up. Slowly. His face was a pasty gray. + +"Your major-domo," Bell told him matter-of-factly, "will go before us +and open every door on both sides of the way to the street. Paula"--he +used her given came without thought, or without realizing it--"Paula +will go and look into each door. If she as much as looks frightened, I +fire, and try to fight the rest of the way clear. Understand? I'm +going to get down to a boat I have ready in the harbor if I have to +kill you and every living soul in the house!" + +There was no boat in the harbor, naturally. But the major-domo moved +hesitantly across the room, looking at his master for orders. For +Ribiera to die meant death or madness to his slaves. The major-domo's +face was ghastly with fear. He moved onward, and Bell heard the sound +of doors being thrust wide. Once he gave a command in the staccato +fashion of a terrified man. Bell nodded grimly. + +"Now we'll move. Slowly, Ribiera! Always slowly.... Ah! That's better! +Paula, you go on before and look into each room. I shall be sorry if +any of your servants follow after you, Ribiera.... Through the +doorway. Yes! All clear, Paula? I'm balancing the hammers very +carefully, Ribiera. Very delicate work. It is fortunate for you that +my nerves are rather steady. But really, I don't much care.... Still +all clear before us, Paula? With the servants nerve-racked as they +are, I believe we'll make it through, even if I do kill Ribiera. +There'll be no particular point in killing us then. It won't help +them. Don't stumble, please, Ribiera.... Go carefully, and very +slowly...." + + * * * * * + +Ribiera's face was a gray mask of terror when they reached the door. A +long, low car with two men on the chauffeur's seat was waiting. + +"Only one man up front, Ribiera," said Bell dryly. "No ostentation, +please. Now, I hope your servants haven't summoned the police, because +they might want to stop me from marching you out there with a gun in +the small of your back. And that would be deplorable, Ribiera. Quite +deplorable." + +With a glance, he ordered Paula into the tonneau. He followed her, +driving Ribiera before him. There seemed to be none about but the +stricken, terrified servant who had opened the door for their exit. + +"My friend," Bell told the major-domo grimly, "I'll give you a bit of +comfort. I'm not going to try to take the Senhor Ribiera away with me. +Once I'm on board the yacht that waits for me, I'll release him so he +can keep you poor devils sane until my Government has found a way to +beat this devilish poison of his. Then I'll come back and kill him. +Now you can tell the chauffeur to drive us to the Biera Mar." + +He settled back in his seat. There were beads of perspiration on his +forehead, but he could not wipe them off. He held the two revolvers +against Ribiera's flabby body. + + * * * * * + +The car turned the corner, and he added dryly: + +"Your servants, Ribiera, will warn your more prominent slaves of my +intention of going on board a yacht. Preparations will be made to stop +every pleasure boat and search it for me. So ... tell your chauffeur +to swing about and make for the flying field. And tell him to drive +carefully, by the way. I've still got these guns on a very fine +adjustment of the trigger-pressure." + +Ribiera croaked the order. Bell was exactly savage enough to kill him +if he did not escape. + +For twenty minutes the car sped through the residential districts of +Rio. The sun was high in the air, but clouds were banking up above the +Pao d'Assucar--the Sugarloaf--and it looked as if there might be one +of the sudden summer thunderstorms that sometimes sweep Rio. + +Then the clear road to the flying field. Rio has the largest +metropolitan district in the world, but a great deal of it is piled on +end, and Rio itself built on most of the rest. The flying field is +necessarily some miles from even the residential districts, for the +sake of a level plain of sufficient area. + +The car shot ahead through practically untouched jungle, interspersed +with tiny clearings in which were patchwork houses that might have +been a thousand miles in the interior instead of so near the center of +all civilization in Brazil. Up smooth gradients. Around beautifully +engineered curves. + + * * * * * + +Bell put aside one revolver long enough to search Ribiera carefully. +He found a pearl-handled automatic, and handed it to Paula. + +"Worth having," he said cheerfully. "I wonder if you'd mind searching +the chauffeur: with that gun at his head I think he'd be peaceful. You +needn't have him stop." + +Paula stood up, smiling a little. + +"I did not think I lacked courage, Senhor," she observed, "but you +have taught me more." + +"_Nil desperandum_," said Bell lightly. He relaxed deliberately. +Matters would be tense at the flying field, and he would need to be +wholly calm. There was little danger of an attempt at rescue here, and +the necessity of being ready to shoot Ribiera at any instant was no +longer a matter of split seconds. + +He watched, while, bent over the back of the front seat, she extracted +two squat weapons from the chauffeur's pockets. + +"Quite an arsenal," said Bell as he pocketed them. He turned +pleasantly to Ribiera. "Now, Ribiera, you understand just what I want. +That big amphibian plane of yours is fairly fast, and once when I was +merely your guest you assured me that it was always kept fueled and +even provisioned for a long flight. When we reach the flying field I +want it rolled out and warmed up, over at the other end of the field +from the flying line. We'll go over to it in the car. + +"And I've thought of something. It worried me, before, because +sometimes if a man's shot he merely relaxes all over. So while we're +at the flying field I'm going to be holding back the triggers of these +guns with my thumbs. I don't have to pull the trigger at all--just let +go and they'll go off. It isn't so fine an adjustment as I had just +now, but it's safer for you as long as you behave. And you might urge +your chauffeur to be cautious. I do hope, Ribiera, that you won't look +as if you were frightened. If there's any hitch, and delay for letting +some fuel out of the tanks or messing up the motors, I'll be very +sorry for you." + + * * * * * + +The car swooped out into bright sunshine. The flying field lay below, +already in the shadow of the banking clouds above. Hangars lay +stretched out across the level space. + +Through the gates. Ribiera licked his lips. Bell jammed the revolver +muzzles closer against his sides. The chauffeur halted the car. Paula +spoke softly to him. He stiffened. Bell found it possible to smile +faintly. + +Ribiera gave orders. There was a moment's pause--the revolver muzzles +went deeper into his side--and he snarled a repetition. The official +cringed and moved swiftly. + +"You have chosen your slaves well, Ribiera," said Bell coolly. "They +seem to occupy all strategic positions. We'll ride across." + +The gears clashed. The car swerved forward and went deliberately +across the wide clear space that was the flying field. It halted near +the farther side. In minutes the door of a hangar swung wide. There +was the sputtering of a not-yet-warmed-up motor. The big plane came +slowly out, its motors coughing now and then. It swung clumsily across +the field, turned in a wide circle, and stopped some forty or fifty +feet from the car. + +"Send the mechanic back, on foot," said Bell softly. + +Again Ribiera found it expedient to snarl. And Bell added, gently, +while the throttled-down motors of the big amphibian boomed on: + +"Now get out of the car." + +Tiny figures began to gaze curiously at them from the row of hangars. +The mechanic, starting back on foot, the four people getting out of +the car, the big plane waiting.... + + * * * * * + +With his revolver ready and aimed at Ribiera's bulk, Bell reached in +the front of the car and turned off the switch. The motor died +abruptly. He put the key in his pocket. + +"Just to get a minute or two extra start," he said dryly. "Climb up in +the plane, Paula." + +She obeyed, and turned at the top. + +"I will cover them until you are up," she said quietly. + +Bell laughed, now. A genuine laugh, for the first time in many days. + +"We do work together!" he said cheerfully. + +But he backed up the ladder. There was a stirring over by the hangars. +The mechanic who had taxied the plane to this spot was a dwindling +speck, no more than a third of the way across the field. But even from +the distant hangars it could be seen that something was wrong. + +"Close the door, Paula," said Bell. He had seated himself at the +controls, and scanned the instruments closely. + +This machine was heavy and large and massive. The boat-body between +the retractable wheels added weight to the structure, and when Bell +gave it the gun it seemed to pick up speed with an irritating +slowness, and to roll and lurch very heavily when it did begin to +approach flying speed. The run was long before the tail came up. It +was longer before the joltings lessened and the plane began to rise +slowly, with the solid steadiness that only a large and heavily loaded +plane can compass. + + * * * * * + +Up, and up.... Bell was three hundred feet high when he crossed the +hangars and saw tiny faces staring up at him. Some of the small +figures were pointing across the field. The big plane circled widely, +gaining altitude, and Bell gazed down. Ribiera was gesticulating +wildly, pointing upward to the soaring thing, shaking his fist at it, +and making imperious, frantic motions of command. + +Bell took one quick glance all about the horizon. Toward the sea the +sun shone down brilliantly upon the city. Inland a broad white wall of +advancing rain moved toward the coastline. And Bell smiled frostily, +and flung the big ship into a dive and swooped down upon Ribiera as a +hawk might swoop at a chicken. + +Ribiera saw the monster thing bearing down savagely, its motors +bellowing, its nose pointed directly at him. And there is absolutely +nothing more terrifying upon the earth than to see a plane diving upon +you with deadly intent. A panic that throws back to non-human +ancestors seizes upon a man. He feels the paralysis of those ancient +anthropoids who were preyed upon by dying races of winged monsters in +the past. That racial, atavistic terror seizes upon him. + +Bell laughed, though it sounded more like a bark, as Ribiera flung +himself to the ground and screamed hoarsely when the plane seemed +about to pounce upon him. The shrill timbre of the shriek cut through +the roaring of the motors, even through the thick padding of the big +plane's cabin walls that reduced that roaring to a not intolerable +growl. + + * * * * * + +But the plane passed ten feet or more above his head. It rose, and +climbed steeply, and passed again above the now buzzing, agitated +hangars, and climbed above the hills behind the flying field as some +men went running and others moved by swifter means toward the shaken, +nerve-racked Ribiera, on whose lips were flecks of foam. + +Bell looked far below and far behind him. The incredible greenness of +tropic verdure, of the jungle which rings Rio all about. The many +glitterings of sunlight upon glass, and upon the polished domes of +sundry public buildings, and the multitudinous shimmerings of the +tropic sun upon the bay. The deep dark shadow of the banking clouds +drew a sharp line across the earth, and deep in that shadow lay the +flying field, growing small and distant as the plane flew on. But +specks raced across the wide expanse. In a peculiar, irrational +fashion those specks darted toward a nearly invisible speck, and +encountered other specks darting away from that nearly invisible +speck, and gradually all the specks were turned about and racing for +the angular, toy-block squares which were the hangars of the +aeroplanes of the city of Rio de Janeiro. + +Little white things appeared from those hangars--planes being thrust +out into the open air while motes of men raced agitatedly about them. +One of them was suddenly in motion. It moved slowly and clumsily +across the ground, and then abruptly moved more swiftly. It seemed to +float upward and to swing about in mid-air. It came floating toward +the amphibian, though apparently nearly stationary against the sky. +Another moved jerkily, and another.... + + * * * * * + +Just before the big plane dived into the wide white wall of falling +water, the air behind it seemed to swarm with aircraft. + +In the cabin of the amphibian, of course, the bellowing of the motors +outside was muffled to a certain degree. Paula clung to the seats and +moved awkwardly up to the place beside Bell. She had just managed to +seat herself when the falling sheet of water obliterated all the +world. + +"Strap yourself in your seat," he said in her ear above the persistent +tumult without. "Then you might adjust my safety-belt. Well be flying +blind in this rain. I hope the propellers hold." + +She fumbled, first at the belt beside his upholstered chair, and only +afterward adjusted her own. He sent a quick glance at her. + +"Shouldn't have done that," he said quietly. "I can manage somehow." + +The plane lurched and tumbled wildly. He kicked rudder and jerked on +the stick, watching the instrument board closely. In moments the wild +gyrations ceased. + +"The beginning of this," he said evenly, "is going to be hectic. +There'll be lightning soon." + +Almost on his words the gray mist out the cabin windows seemed to +flame. There was thunder even above the motors. But the faint, +perceptible trembling of the whole plane under the impulse of its +engines kept on. Bell kept his eyes on the bank and turn indicator, +glancing now and then at the altimeter. + +"We've got to climb," he said shortly, "up where the lightning is, +too. We want to pass the Serra da Carioca with room to spare, or we'll +crash on it." + +There was no noticeable change in the progress of the plane, of +course. Rain was dashing against the windows of the cabin with an +incredible velocity. Rain at a hundred miles an hour acts more like +hail than water, anyhow, and Bell was trusting grimly to the hope that +the propellers were of steel, which will withstand even hail, and a +hope that the blast through the engine cowlings would keep the wiring +free of water-made short circuits. + + * * * * * + +But the air was bad beyond belief. At times the plane spun like +thistledown in a vast and venomous flood that crashed into the +windows with a vicious rattling. Lightning began and grew fiercer. It +seemed at times as if the plane were whirling crazily in sheer +incandescent flame. The swift air-currents at the beginning of a +tropic thunderstorm were here multiplied in trickiness and velocity by +the hills of the Serra da Carioca, and Bell was flying blind as well. +The safety-belts were needed fifty times within twenty minutes, as the +big ship was flung about by fierce blasts that sometimes blew even the +rain upward for a time. And over all, as the amphibian spun madly, and +toppled crazily and fought for height, there was the terrific, +incessant crashing of thunder which was horribly close, and the +crackling flares of lightning all about. + +"I'm going to take a chance," said Bell curtly above the uproar, with +the windows seeming to look out upon the fires of hell. "I think we're +high enough. The compass has gone crazy, but I'm going to risk it." + +Again there was no perceptible alteration in the motion of the ship, +but he fought it steadily toward the west. And it seemed that he +actually was passing beyond the first fierce fringe of the storm, +because the lightning became--well, not less frequent, but less +continuous. + + * * * * * + +And suddenly, in a blinding flare of light that made every separate +raindrop look like a speck of molten metal, he saw another airplane. +It was close. Breath-takingly close. It came diving down out of +nowhere and passed less than twenty yards before the nose of the +amphibian. It glistened with wet, and glittered unbearably in the +incredible brightness of the lightning. Every spot and speck and +detail showed with an almost ghastly distinctness. But it dived on +past, its pilot rigid and tense and unseeing, plunging like a meteor +straight downward. The golden, iridescent mist of rain closed over its +body. And it was gone. + +Ten minutes later Bell was driving onward through a gray obscurity, +which now was no more than tinted pink by receding lightning-flashes. +The air was still uneven and treacherous. The big plane hurtled +downward hundreds of feet in wild descending gusts among the hills, +and was then flung upward on invisible billows of air for other +hundreds of feet. But it was less uncontrollable. There were periods +of minutes when the safety-belts did not come into use. + + * * * * * + +And later still, half an hour perhaps, the steadiness of the air gave +assurance that the plane was past the range of the Serra da Carioca +and was headed inland. He drove on, watching his instruments and +flying blind, but with a gathering confidence in an ultimate escape +from the swarm of aircraft Ribiera had sent aloft in the teeth of the +storm to hunt for him. The motors hummed outside the padded cabin. The +girl beside him was very quiet and very still and very pale. + +"We want to get out of this before long," he said in her ear, "and +then we can find out where we are, and especially begin to make some +plans for ourselves." + +Her eyes turned to him. There was a curious stiffness in her manner. +It might have seemed reserve, but Bell recognized the symptoms of a +woman whose self-control is hanging by a thread. He smiled. + +"Hold on a while yet," he said gently. "I know you want to cry. But +please hold on a while yet. When we reach friends...." + +Her hands went to her throat, and he could feel the effort of will +that kept her voice steady. + +"Friends? We have no friends." She managed a smile. "The Senhor +Ribiera explained to me when I arrived at his house how it was that no +questions would be asked about my disappearance. My father is dead. +The newspapers this morning said that it was not known whether he +killed himself or was assassinated. The Senhor Ribiera has given +orders to his slaves. The newspapers of this afternoon will inform a +horrified world that you and I, together, murdered my father that we +might flee together with such of his riches as he had actually +gathered together for me to take away. We are murderers, my friend. +Cables and telegraph wires are reporting the news. The daughter of the +Minister of War of the Republic of Brazil was assisted by her lover to +murder her father. She has fled with him. Now--where are we still to +find friends?" + + * * * * * + +Bell stared, for the fraction of an instant. One thought came to him, +and was checked. The Trade does not exist, anywhere. The Trade would +not help. And murderers are always duly handed over when the +Government of the United States is requested politely to do so by +another nation. Always. And so far as the whole civilized world was +concerned they were murderers. Even the employees of the flying field +who were not subject to The Master would swear to the strictly +accurate story of their escape together. + +"It is just scandalous enough and horrible enough," said Bell quietly, +"to be reprinted everywhere as news. You're right. We haven't any +friends. We're up against it. And so I think we'll have to hunt down +and kill The Master. Then we'll be believed. And there are just two of +us, with what weapons we have in our pockets, to attack. How many +thousands of slaves do you suppose The Master has by now?" + +And, quite suddenly, he laughed. + + +CHAPTER VII + +The sun was sinking slowly when the plane appeared above the valley. +There was only jungle below. Jungle, and the languid river which now +flowed sluggishly into a wide and shallow pool in which drowned trees +formed a mass of substance neither land nor marsh nor river. The +river now contracted to a narrow space and showed signs of haste, and +even foaming water, and then again flowed placidly onward, sometimes +even a hundred yards in breadth. Shadows of the mountains to the west +were creeping toward the opposite hill-flanks, darkening the thick +foliage and sending flocks of flying things home to their chosen +roosts. + +The sound of the plane was a buzzing noise, which grew louder to a +sharp drone as it seemed to increase in size, and became a dull +monotonous roar as it dipped toward the waters of the stream. It +floated downward, very gently, and circled as if regarding a certain +spot critically, and resumed its onward flight. Again it circled, +anxiously, now, as if the time for alighting were short. + +It seemed to hesitate in mid-air, and dived, and circled up-stream and +came down the valley again. It sank, and sank, lower and lower, until +the white of its upper wings was hidden by the tall trees on either +side. + +A _jabiru_ stork saw it from downstream, solemnly squatting on four +eggs which eventually would perpetuate the race. The _jabiru_ was +about forty feet above the water and had a clear view of the stream. +The stork squatted meditatively, with its long, naked neck projecting +above the edge of its nest. + + * * * * * + +The plane dipped ever lower, its reflection vivid and complete upon +the waveless stream below it. Ten feet above the water. Five--and +swift ripples from the rush of air disturbed the unbroken reflections +behind. It was almost a silhouette against the mirrored appearance of +the sunset sky. And then a clumsy-seeming boat body touched water with +a vast hissing sound, and settled more and more heavily, while the +speed of the plane checked markedly and its motors roared on +senselessly. + +Then, abruptly, the plane checked and partly swung around. The +_jabiru_ half-rose from its eggs. The motors were bellowing wildly +again. As if tearing itself free, the plane sheered off from some +invisible obstacle, one of its wing tip floats splashed water wildly, +and, with the motors thundering at their fullest speed, it went toward +the shore with a dragging wing, like some wounded bird. + +It beached, and the _jabiru_ heard a sudden dense silence fall. A man +climbed out of the boatlike body. He walked to the bow and dropped to +the shore. He peered under the upward slanting nose of the boat-thing. +The _jabiru_, listening intently, heard words. + +Then, quite suddenly and quite abruptly, and generally with the +unostentatious efficiency with which Nature manages such things in the +tropics, night fell. It was dark within minutes. + + * * * * * + +The noise of Bell's scrambling back onto the deck of the amphibian's +hull could be heard inside the cabin. He opened the door and slipped +down inside. + +"There ought to be some lights," he said curtly. "Ribiera did himself +rather well, as a rule." + +He struck a match. Paula's eyes shone in the match-flame, fixed upon +his face. He looked about, frowning. He found a switch and pressed it, +and a dome-light came into being. The cabin of the plane, from a place +of darkness comparable to that of the jungle all about, became +suddenly a cosy and comfortable place. + +"Well?" said Paula quietly. + +Bell hesitated, and took a deep breath. + +"We're stuck," he said wryly. "We must have struck a snag or perhaps a +rock, just under water. Half the bottom of the hull's torn out. +There's no hope of repair. If I hadn't given her the gun and beached +her, we'd have sunk in mid-stream." + +Paula said nothing. + +"Things are piling on us," said Bell grimly. "In the morning I'll try +to make a raft. We can't stay here indefinitely. I'll hunt for maps +and we'll try to plan something out. But I'll admit that this business +worries me--the plane being smashed." + + * * * * * + +He passed his hand harassedly over his forehead. To have escaped from +Rio was something, but since Paula had told him Ribiera's plans, it +was clearly but the most temporary of successes. Cabinet ministers are +not so commonplace but that the scandalous and horrifying crime that +was imputed to Bell and Paula would be printed in every foreign +country. Newspapers in Tokio would include the supposed murder in +their foreign news, and in Bucharest and even Constantinople it would +merit a paragraph or two. Assuredly every South American country would +discuss the matter editorially, even where The Master's deputies did +not order it published far and wide. There would be pictures of Bell +and of Paula, labeled with an infamy. In every town of all Brazil +their faces would be known, and those who were The Master's slaves +would hunt them desperately, and all honorable men would seek them for +a crime. Even in America there would be no safety for them. The Trade +does not exist, officially, and a member of the Trade must get out of +trouble as he can. As an accused murderer, Bell would be arrested +anywhere. As worse than a mere murderess, Paula.... + +She was watching his face. + +"This morning," she said queerly, "you--you quoted '_Nil +desperandum_.'" + +Bell ground his teeth, and then managed to smile. + +"If I looked like I needed you say that," he said coolly, "I deserve +to be kicked. Let's look for something to eat, and count up our +resources. The thing to do is, when you fall down--bounce!" + +He managed a nearly genuine grin, then, and to his intense amazement, +she sobbed suddenly and bent her head down and began to weep. He +stared at her in stupefaction for an instant, then swore at himself +for a fool. Her father.... + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later he roused her as gently as he could. It was +helplessness, as much as anything else, that had made him leave her +alone; but a woman needs to weep now and then. And Paula assuredly had +excuse. + +"Here's a cup of coffee," he said practically, "which you must drink. +You can't have had anything to eat all day. Have you?" + +That question had haunted him too. She had been a prisoner in +Ribiera's house for half an hour, possibly more. And Ribiera had in +his possession, and used, a deadly, devilish poison from some unknown +noxious plant. Its victim took the poison unknowingly, in a morsel of +food or a glass of water or of wine. And for two weeks there was no +sign of evil. And then the poison drove its victim swiftly mad--unless +the antidote was obtained from Ribiera. And Ribiera administered the +antidote with a further dose of poison. + +If Paula had eaten one scrap of food or drunk one drop of water while +Ribiera's captive.... + +She understood. She looked up suddenly, and read the awful anxiety in +his eyes. + +"No. Nothing." She caught her breath and steadied herself with an +effort of the will. "I understand. You tried not to let me fear. But I +ate nothing, touched nothing. I have not that to fear, at least." + +"Drink this coffee," said Bell, smiling. "Ribiera was a luxurious +devil. There's canned stuff and so on in a locker. He was prepared for +a forced landing anywhere. Flares and rockets will do us no good, but +there are a pair of machetes and a sporting rifle with shells. We +don't need to die for a bit, anyhow." + + * * * * * + +Paula obediently took the coffee. He watched her anxiously as she +drank. + +"Now some soup," he urged, "and the rest of this condensed stuff. And +I've found some maps and there's a radio receiving outfit if--" + +Paula managed to smile. + +"You want to know," she said, "if I can endure listening to it. Yes. +I--I should not have given way just now. But I can endure anything." + +Bell still hesitated, regarding her soberly. + +"I've heard," he said awkwardly, "that in Brazil the conventions...." + +She waited, looking at him with her large eyes. + +"I hoped," said Bell, still more unhappily, "to find this place +Moradores, where you said you had some relatives. I hoped to find it +before dark. But before I landed I knew I'd missed it and couldn't +hope to locate it to-night. I thought--" + +"You thought," said Paula, smiling suddenly, "that my reputation would +be jeopardized. And you were about to offer--" + +Bell winced. + +"Of course I don't mean to act like an ass," he said apologetically, +"but some people...." + +"You forget," said Paula, with the same faint smile, "what the +newspapers will say of us, Senhor. You forget what news of us the +cables have carried about the world. I think that we had better forget +about the conventions. As the daughter of a Brazilian, that remark is +heresy. But did you know that my mother came from Maryland?" + +"Thank God!" said Bell relievedly. "Then you can believe that I'm not +thinking exclusively of you, and maybe we'll get somewhere." + +Paula put out her hand. He grasped it firmly. + +"Right!" he said, more cheerfully than ever before. "Now we'll turn on +the radio and see what news we get." + + * * * * * + +Into the deep dark jungle night, then, a strange incongruity was +thrust. Tall trees loomed up toward the stars. A nameless little +stream flowed placidly through the night and, beached where +impenetrable undergrowth crowded to the water's edge, a big amphibian +plane lay slightly askew, while a light glowed brightly in its cabin. +More, from that cabin there presently emerged the incredible sound of +music, played in Rio for _os gentes_ of the distinctly upper strata of +society by a bored but beautifully trained orchestra. + +The _jabiru_ stork heard it, and craned its featherless neck to stare +downward through beady eyes. But it was not frightened. Presently, +instead of music, there was a man's voice booming in the disconnected +sounds of human speech. And still the _jabiru_ was unalarmed. Like +most of the birds whose necks are bald, the _jabiru_ is a useful +scavenger, and so is tolerated in the haunts of men. And if man's +gratitude is not enough for safety, the _jabiru_ smells very, very +badly, and no man hunts his tribe. + + * * * * * + +Bell had been listening impatiently, when a sudden whining, whistling +noise broke into the program of very elevated music, played utterly +without rest. The sound came from the speaker, of course. + +He frowned thoughtfully. The whistling changed in timbre and became +flutelike, then changed again, nearly to its original pitch and tone. + +Paula was not listening. Her mind seemed very far away, and on +subjects the reverse of pleasurable. + +"Listen!" said Bell suddenly. "You hear that whistle? It came on all +at once!" + +Paula waited. The whistling noise went on. It was vaguely discordant, +and it was monotonous, and it was more than a little irritating. Again +it changed timbre, going up to the shrillest of squealings, and back +nearly to its original sound an instant later. + +Bell began to paw over maps. The plane had been intended for flight +over the vast distances of Brazil, and there was a small supply of +condensed food and a sporting rifle and shells included in its +equipment. Emergency landing fields are not exactly common in the back +country of South America. + +"Here," said Bell sharply. "Here is where we are. It must be where we +are! No towns of any size nearby. No railroad. No boat route. Nothing! +Nothing but jungle shown here!" + + * * * * * + +He frowned absorbedly over the problem. + +"What is it?" asked Paula. + +"Someone near," said Bell briefly. "That's another radio receiver, an +old fashioned regenerative set, sensitive enough and reliable enough, +but a nuisance to everyone but its owner--except when it's a godsend, +as it is to us." + +The music ended, and a voice announced in laboriously classic +Portuguese, with only a trace of the guttural tonation of the +_carioca_, that the most important news items of the day would be +given. + +Paula paled a little, but listened without stirring. The voice +read--the rustling of sheets of paper was abnormally loud--a bit of +foreign news, and a bit of local news, and then.... + +She was deathly pale when the announcement of her father's death was +finished, and she had heard the official view of the police +reported--exactly what Ribiera had told her it would be. When the +voice added that a friend of the late Minister of War, the Senhor +Ribiera, had offered twenty contos for the capture of the fugitive +pair, who had escaped in an airplane stolen from him, she bit her lip +until it almost bled. + + * * * * * + +"I know," he said abstractedly. "It's as you said. But listen to that +whistle." + +The news announcement ceased. Music began again. The whistling +abruptly died away. + +"I just found some coils," said Bell feverishly, "that plug in to take +the place of the longer-wave ones. I'm going to try them. It's a +hunch, and it's crazy, but...." + +There were sharp clickings. The radio receiver was one of those +extraordinarily light and portable ones that are made for aircraft. In +seconds it was transformed into a short-wave receiver. Bell began to +manipulate the dials feverishly. Two minutes. Three. Four. + +The speaker suddenly began to whine softly and monotonously. + +"Regeneration," said Bell feverishly, "on a carrier-wave. It can't be +far off, that receiving set." + +Suddenly a voice spoke. It was blurred and guttural. Infinitely +delicate adjustments cleared it up. And then.... + +Bell listened eagerly, at first in triumph, then in amazement, and at +last in a grim satisfaction. Reports from Rio on a short-wave band of +radio frequencies were passing from Ribiera to some other place +apparently inland. It was Ribiera's own voice, which quivered with +rage as he reported Bell's escape. + +"_I do not think_," he snapped in Portuguese, "_that full details +should be spoken even on beam wireless. I shall come to the_ fazenda +_to-morrow and communicate with The Master direct. In the meantime I +have warned all sub-deputies in Brazil. I urge that all deputies be +informed and instructed as The Master may direct._" + + * * * * * + +Another voice replied that The Master would be informed. In the +meantime the deputy for Brazil was notified. + +This list of bits of information chilled Bell's blood. This man, of +Venezuela, had been denied the grace of The Master by the deputy in +Caracas. He would probably use the passwords and demand the grace of +The Master of sub-deputies in the State of Pará. To be seized and +Caracas informed. The deputy in Colombia desired that the son of +Colonel García--upon a hunting-party with friends in the Amazon +basin--should be attached to the service of The Master. His father had +been so attached, and it was believed had smuggled a letter into the +foreign mail warning his son. If possible, that letter should be +intercepted. And from Paraguay the deputy requested that the family of +Senor Gomez, visiting relatives in Rio, should be induced to regard +the service of The Master as desirable.... + +The orders ceased abruptly. Ribiera acknowledged them. The whining +whistle cut off. And Bell turned to Paula very grimly indeed. + +"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked in a vast calmness. "Apparently every +nation on the continent has some devil like Ribiera in charge of the +administration of this fiendish poison. Every republic has some fiend +at work in it. And they're organized. My God! They're organized! The +Master seems to supply them with the mixture of poison and its +antidote, and they report to him...." + + * * * * * + +Paula nodded. + +"That was what my father had written down for you," she said quietly. +"Any man who can be lured to eat or drink anything these men have +prepared is lost. He gains no pleasure, as a drug might give. He is +entrapped into a lifetime of awful fear, knowing that a moment's +disobedience, a moment's reluctance to obey whatever command they +give, will cause his madness." + +"I'm trying to think what we can work out of this," said Bell shortly. +"Some things are clear. There's a radio receiving set nearby, which +listened to those short-wave reports. Within five or six miles, at +most. We're going to find that to-morrow. And there's a central point, +a _fazenda_, where one may talk direct with The Master, whoever and +wherever he may be. And--judging by Ribiera--my guess is that The +Master has the same hold upon them that they have on their underlings. +Ribiera is too arrogant a scoundrel to make obsequious reports if he +were not afraid to omit them." He was silent for a moment, thinking. +Then he said abruptly, "Try to get some sleep, if you can. That pistol +of Ribiera's--you have it handy? Keep it where you can reach it in the +dark. I'm going to watch, though." + +Paula settled herself comfortably, and looked queerly across the dimly +lit little cabin at him. + +"My friend," she said with the faintest of quavering smiles, "Please +do not reassure me. I have the courage of endurance, at least. And--I +do not fear you." + + * * * * * + +It seemed to Bell, listening in the darkness that fell when he turned +off the switch, that she stayed awake for a long time. But when she +did sleep, she slept heavily. + +Bell had a raft of canes afloat beside the amphibian when she waked. +He was sweat-streaked and bitten by many insects. He was tired, and +his clothes were rags. But the raft was nearly twenty feet long, it +would easily float two persons and what small supplies the plane +carried, and it could be handled by a long pole. + +"Hullo," he said cheerfully when she climbed on top of the waterlogged +hull of the plane. "We're nearly ready to start off. I'm sorry I can't +advise you to try to refresh yourself in the river. There are some +fish in it that are fiends. One of them took a slice out of the side +of my hand." + +"_Piranhas!_" she exclaimed, and was pale. "You should have known!" + +_Piranhas_ are small fresh-water fish of the Brazilian rivers, never +more than a foot and a half long, which prove the existence of a +devil. Where they swarm in schools they will tear every morsel of +flesh from a swimmer's body as he struggles to reach shore, and leave +a clean-stripped skeleton of a mule or horse if an animal should essay +to swim a stream. + +"I'll ask, next time," said Bell ruefully. "I'd planned a swim. But if +you'll fix some coffee while I finish up this raft, we'll get going. I +don't think we're far from some place or other. I heard what sounded +suspiciously like a motor boat, about dawn." + + * * * * * + +She looked at him anxiously. + +"Of course," said Bell, smiling, "if the boat belonged to whoever +listened in on the Rio broadcast _and_ the short-wave news, he won't +be especially friendly, though he should be glad to see us. But I've +been studying the map, and I have a rather hopeful idea. Let's have +coffee." + +He grinned as long as she was in sight, and when he went into the +cabin of the plane he seemed more cheerful still. But the idea of +floating down this nameless little jungle stream upon a raft of canes +was not one that he would have chosen. It was forced upon him. To +travel through the jungle itself was next to impossible with a girl, +especially as they were dressed for city streets and not at all for +battling with dense and thorn-studded undergrowth. And to stay with +the plane was obviously absurd. Sooner or later they had to abandon +it, though the moment they did desert it they would be encountering +not only the impersonal menace of the jungle, but the actual enmity of +all the human race. The raft was the only possibility. + + * * * * * + +It floated smoothly enough when they started off, with Bell working +inexpertly with his long pole to keep it in mid-stream. He was, of +course, acutely apprehensive. In country like this a rapid could be +expected anywhere. The jungle life loomed high above their heads on +either side, and the life of the jungle went on undisturbed by their +passage. Monkeys gaped at them and exchanged undoubtedly witty +comments upon their appearance. Birds flew overhead with raucous and +unpleasant cries. Toucans, in particular, made a most discordant din. +Once they disturbed a tiny herd of peccaries, drinking, which regarded +them pugnaciously and trotted sturdily out of sight as they came +abreast. + +But for one mile, for two, the stream flowed smoothly. A third.... And +Paula pointed ahead in silence. A dug-out projected partly from the +shoreline. Bell wielded his long pole cautiously now, and drew closer +and ever closer to the stream bank. Paula pointed again. There was +even a small dock--luxury unthinkable in these wilds. + +The raft touched bottom. And suddenly from somewhere out of sight +there came a horrible and a bestial sound. It was a scream of +blood-lust, of madness, of overpowering and unspeakable rage. +Following it came cackling laughter. + +Paula went white. + +"The _fazenda_," said Bell softly, "of the sub-deputy who was +listening in on Ribiera last night. And it sounds as if someone were +very much amused. Some poor devil...." + +Paula shuddered. + +"I'm going ashore," said Bell, smiling frostily. "There's nothing else +to do." + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Crouched at the edge of the jungle, where the clearing began, Paula +heard four shots. Two in quick succession, and a wait of minutes. Then +a third, and another long wait, and then the last. Then silence. Paula +began to shiver. Bell had helped her ashore from the raft and insisted +on her waiting at the edge of the jungle. + +"Not that you'll be any safer," he had told her grimly, "but that I +may be. One person can move more quickly than two. And if I'm chased +I'll plunge for the place you're hidden, and you can open fire. Then +the two of us might hold them off." + +"Why?" Paula said slowly. + +And Bell caught at her wrist. + +"Don't let me hear you talk like that!" he said sharply. "We're going +to beat this thing! We've got to! And being desperate helps, but being +in despair doesn't help a bit. Buck up!" + +He frowned at her until she smiled. + +"I will not despair again without your permission," she told him. +"Really. I will not." + +He found her a hiding-place and went cautiously out into the clearing, +still frowning. + + * * * * * + +He had been gone five minutes before the first shot sounded, and quite +ten before the last rang out dully, and was echoed and re-echoed +hollowly by the jungle trees. And Paula lay waiting by the edge of the +clearing, Ribiera's pearl-handled automatic in her hand--Bell had +carried the rifle from the plane. Small insects moved all about her, +and she heard soft rustlings as the life of the jungle went on over +her head and under her feet, and terror welled up in her throat. + +She was trembling almost uncontrollably when Bell came back. He walked +openly toward her hiding-place. + +"Paula." + +She came out, trying to steady her quivering lips. + +"We're all right," said Bell grimly. "This is the _fazenda_ of a +sub-deputy. I suspect, also, it's an emergency landing field for +Ribiera on the way to that place he talked to last night. There's a +two-place plane here with both wheels and floats, in a filthy little +shed. It seems to be all right. We're going to take off in it and try +to make Moradores, where your people are. What's the matter?" + +Her face was deathly pale. + +"I thought," she said with some difficulty, "when I heard the shots--I +thought you were killed." + +Bell shook his head. + +"I wasn't," he said grimly. "It was four other men who were killed." + + * * * * * + +He led her carefully past the house. It was a fairly typical _fazenda_ +dwelling, if more substantial than most. It was wholly unpretentious, +with whitewashed walls, and the effect of grandeur it would give to +natives of this region would come solely from the number of buildings. +There were half a dozen or more. + +"I killed four men," repeated Bell coldly. "And I'm damned glad of it. +That scream we heard.... I know pretty well what happened here last +night. Remember, Ribiera spoke of using a beam-wireless to make his +report. He must have had a short-wave beam set somewhere on the +outskirts of Rio, aimed at whatever headquarters he reports to. He's +going up to that headquarters some time to-day, by plane, of course. +He needed emergency landing fields along the route, and here he picked +out a native and made him a sub-deputy. Charming...." + +Moving past the buildings, Paula caught sight of massive wooden bars +set in the side of a building. Something crumpled up and limp lay +before them. + +"Don't look over there," said Bell harshly. "There was a woman in this +house and she told me what happened, though I'd guessed it before. The +sub-deputy was here last night with a party of friends. Newly +enslaved, some of them. He entertained them.... Up at Ribiera's place +a girl told me she and her husband had been shown a Secret Service +man. He went mad before their eyes. It was an object-lesson for them, +a clear illustration of what would happen to them if they ever +disobeyed. I imagine that something of the sort is used by all The +Master's deputies to convince their slaves of the fate that awaits +them for disobedience. The local man had brought a party up to watch +two men go mad. After that sight they'll be obedient." + + * * * * * + +He reached a shed, huge, but in disrepair. Monster doors were ajar. +Bell heaved at them and swung them wide. A small, trim, two-seated +plane showed in the shadowy interior. + +"This is for emergency use," said Bell grimly, "and we face an +emergency. I'll get it out and load it up. There's a dump of gas and +so on here. You might look around outside the door, in case the one +man who got away can find someone to help stop me." + +He set to work checking on fuel and oil. He loaded extra gas in the +front cockpit, a huge tin of it. Another would crowd him badly in the +pilot's cockpit in the rear, but he stowed it as carefully as he +could. + +"The local sub-deputy," he added evenly, "has added to the thrill by +having the two men put in one cage. He let his guests observe the +progress of the madness the damned poison produces. And presently, as +the madness grew, the two men fought. They were murder mad. The local +sub-deputy gave his guests the thrill of watching maniacs battling to +the death. He left early this morning with his party, and I imagine +that everyone was suitably submissive to his demands for the future. +There were four men and a woman left as caretakers here. I found the +four men before the cage, baiting the poor devil who'd killed the +other last night. That's why we heard the scream. When I came up with +my rifle they stared at me, and ran. + + * * * * * + +"I got one then, and as a matter of mercy I put a bullet through the +man who'd gone murder mad. The"--Bell sounded as if he were acutely +nauseated--"the man he'd killed was still in the cage. My God!... Then +I went looking for the other three men. Wasting time, no doubt, but I +found them. I was angry. I got one, and the others ran away again. A +little later the third man jumped me with a knife. He slit my sleeve. +I killed him. Didn't find the fourth man." Bell moved to the front of +the plane. "I'll see if she catches." + +He swung on the stick. It went over stiffly. Again, and again. With a +bellow, the motor caught. Bell shouted in Paula's ear. + +"We'll get in. Use the warming-up period to taxi out. We want to get +away as soon as we can." + +He helped her up into the seat, then remembered. He rummaged about and +flung a tumbled flying suit up in the cockpit with her. + +"If you get a chance, put it on!" he shouted. He stepped into a +similar outfit, reached up and throttled down the motor, and kicked +away the blocks under the wheels. He vaulted up into place. And slowly +and clumsily the trim little ship came lurching and rolling out of the +shed. + + * * * * * + +The landing field was not large, but Bell took the plane to its edge. +He faced it about, and bent below the cockpit combing to avoid the +slip stream and look at his maps again, brought from the big +amphibian. Something caught his eye. Another radio receiving set. + +"Amphibian planes," he muttered, "for landing on earth or water. And +radios. I wonder if he has directional for a guide? It would seem +sensible, and if a plane went down the rest of them would know about +where to look." + +Paula reached about and touched his shoulder. She pointed. There was a +movement at the edge of the jungle and a puff of smoke. A bullet went +through the fusilage of the plane, inches behind Bell. He frowned, +grasped the stick, and gave the motor the gun. + +It lifted heavily, like all amphibians, but it soared over the group +of buildings some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wireless +mast and went on, rising steadily, to clear even the topmost trees on +the farther side of the stream by a hundred feet or more. + +It went on and on, roaring upward, and the jungle receded ever farther +below it. The horizon drew back and back. At two thousand feet the +earth began to have the appearance of a shallow platter. At three +thousand it was a steep sided bowl, and Bell could look down and trace +the meandering of the stream on which he had landed the night before. +Not too far downstream--some fifteen miles, perhaps--were the squalid, +toy sized structures of a town of the far interior of Brazil. He never +learned its name, but even in his preoccupation with the management +of the plane and a search for landmarks, he wondered very grimly +indeed what would be the state of things in that town. If in Rio, +where civilization held sway, Ribiera exercised such despotic though +secret power, in a squalid and forgotten little village like this the +rule of a sub-deputy of The Master could be bestial and horrible +beyond belief. + + * * * * * + +Eastward. Bell had overshot the mark the night before. Before he had +located himself he was quite fifty miles beyond the spot Paula had +suggested as a hiding place. Now he retraced his way. A peak jutting +up from far beyond the horizon was a guiding mark. He set the plane's +nose for it, and relaxed. + +The motor thundered on valorously. Far below was a vast expanse of +thick jungle, intercepted but nowhere broken by occasional small +streams and now and then the tiny, angular things which might be +houses. But houses were very infrequent. In the first ten miles--with +a view of twenty miles in every direction--Bell picked out no more +than four small groups of buildings which might be the unspeakably +isolated _fazendas_ of the folk of this region. + +"Ribiera was coming this way," he muttered. + +He fumbled the headphone of the radio set into place. The set seemed +to be already arbitrarily tuned. He turned it on. There was a +monotonous series of flashes, with the singing note of a buzzer in +them. A radio direction signal. + +"Ribiera's on the way." + +Bell stared far ahead, without reason. And it seemed to him that just +then, against that far distant guiding peak, he saw a black speck +floating in mid-air. + + * * * * * + +He pulled back the joy stick. Detached, feathery clouds spread across +the sky, and he was climbing for them. Paula looked behind at him, and +he pointed. He saw her seem to stiffen upon sight of the other +aircraft. + +In minutes Bell's plane was tearing madly through sunlit fleecy +monsters which looked soft and warm and alluring, and were cold and +damp and blinding in their depths. Bell kept on his course. The two +planes were approaching each other at a rate of nearly two hundred +miles an hour. + +And then, while the harsh, discordant notes of the radio signal +sounded monotonously in his ears, Bell stared down and, through a rift +between two clouds, saw the other plane for an instant, a thousand +feet below. + +The sun shone upon it fiercely. Its propeller was a shimmering, +cobwebby disk before it. It seemed to hang motionless--so short was +Bell's view of it--between earth and sky: a fat glistening body as of +a monstrous insect. Bell could even see figures in its cockpits. + +Then it was gone, but Bell felt a curious hatred of the thing. Ribiera +was almost certainly in it, headed for the place to which he had +spoken the night before. And Bell was no longer able to think of +Ribiera with any calmness. He felt a personal, gusty hatred for the +man and all he stood for. + + * * * * * + +His face was grim and savage as his own plane sped through the clouds. +But just as the two aircraft had approached each other with the +combined speed of both, so they separated. It seemed only a moment +later that Bell dipped down below the clouds and the other plane was +visible only as a swiftly receding mote in the sunlight. + +"I wonder," said Bell coldly to himself, with the thunder of the motor +coming through the singing of the air route signal, "I wonder if he'll +see the ship I cracked up last night?" + +Paula was pointing. The shoulder of a hill upthrust beneath the +jungle. The tall trees were cleared away at its crest. Small, +whitewashed buildings appeared below. + +"Good landing field," said Bell, his eyes narrowing suddenly. "On the +direct route. Fifty miles back there's another landing field. I +wonder...." + +He was already suspicious before he flattened out above the house, +while dogs fled madly. He noticed, too, that horses in a corral near +the buildings showed no signs of fright. And horses are always afraid +of landing aircraft, unless they have had much opportunity to grow +accustomed to them. + +The little plane rolled and bumped, and gradually came to a stop. Bell +inconspicuously shifted a revolver to the outer pocket of his flying +suit. Figures came toward them, with a certain hesitating reluctance +that changed Bell's suspicions even while it confirmed them. + + * * * * * + +"Paula," he said grimly, "this is another landing field for Ribiera's +emergency use. It sticks out all over the place. Relatives or no +relatives, you want to make sure of them. You understand?" + +Her eyes widened in a sudden startled fear. She caught her breath +sharply. Then she said quietly, though her voice trembled: + +"I understand. Of course." + +She slipped out of the plane and advanced to meet the approaching +figures. There were surprised, astounded exclamations: A bearded man +embraced her and shouted. Women appeared and, after staring, embraced. +Paula turned to wave her hand reassuringly to Bell, and vanished +inside the house. + +Bell looked over his instruments, examined the gas in the tank, and +began to work over his maps in the blaring sunlight. He cut out the +switch and the motor stopped with minor hissings of compression. The +maps held his attention, though he listened keenly as he worked for +any signs of trouble that Paula might encounter. + +He was beginning to have a definite idea in his mind. Ribiera had +talked to a headquarters somewhere, by beam radio from Rio. Beam +wireless, of course, is nothing more or less than a concentration of +a radio signal in a nearly straight line, instead of allowing it to +spread about equally on all sides of the transmitting station. It +makes both for secrecy and economy, since nearly all the power used at +the sending apparatus is confined to an arc of about three degrees of +a circle. Directed to a given receiving station, receiving outfits to +one side or the other of that path are unable to listen in, and the +signal is markedly stronger in the chosen path. Exactly the same +process, of course, is used for radio directional signals, one of +which still buzzed monotonously in Bell's ears until he impatiently +turned it off. A plane in the path hears the signal. If it does not +hear the signal, it is demonstrably off the straight route. + + * * * * * + +Bell, then, was in a direct line from Rio to the source of a radio +direction signal. Fifty miles back, where the big amphibian had +crashed, he was in the same air line. To extend that line on into the +interior would give the destination of Ribiera, and the location of +the headquarters where direct communication with The Master was +maintained. + +He worked busily. His maps were in separate sheets, and it took time +to check the line from Rio. When he had finished, he computed grimly. + +"At a hundred miles in hour...." He was figuring the maximum distance +which could plausibly be accepted as a day's journeying by air. He +surveyed the maps again. "The plateau of Cuyaba, at a guess. Hm.... +Fleets of aircraft could practise there and never be seen. An army +could be maneuvered without being reported. Certainly the headquarters +for the whole continent could be there. Striking distance of Rio, +Montevideo, Buenos Aires, La Paz, and Asunción. Five republics." + + * * * * * + +Certainly, from his figures, it seemed plausible that somewhere up on +the Plateau of Cuyaba--where no rails run, no boats ply, and no +telegraph line penetrates; which juts out ultimately into that +unknown region where the Rio Zingu and the Tapajoz have their +origins--certainly it seemed plausible that there must lie the +headquarters of the whole ghastly conspiracy. There, it might be, the +deadly plants from which The Master's poison was brewed were grown. +There the deadly stuff was measured out and mixed with its temporary +antidote.... + +Paula came back, a young man with her. Her eyes were wide and staring, +as if she had looked upon something vastly worse than death. + +"He--Ribiera," she gasped. "My uncle, he owned this place. They--have +him here--alive--and mad! And all the rest...." + +Bell fumbled in the pocket of his flying suit. The young man with +Paula was looking carefully at the plane. And there was a revolver in +a holster at his side. An air of grim and desperate doggedness was +upon him. + +"This is--my cousin," gasped Paula. "He--and his wife--and--and--" + + * * * * * + +The young man took out his weapon. He fired. There was a clanging of +metal, the screech of tortured steel. Bell's own revolver went off the +fraction of a second too late. + +"You may kill me, Senhor," said the young man through stiff lips. His +revolver had dropped from limp fingers. He pressed the fingers of his +left hand upon the place where blood welled out, just above his right +elbow. "You may kill me. But if you and my cousin Paula escaped.... I +have a wife, Senhor, and my mother, and my children. Kill me if you +please. It is your right. But I have seen my father go mad." Sweat, +the sweat of agony and of shame, came out upon his face. "I fought +him, Senhor, to save the lives of all the rest. And I have spoiled +your engine, and I have already sent word that you and Paula are here. +Not for my own life, but...." + +He waited, haggard and ashamed and desperate and hopeless. But Bell +was staring at the motor of the airplane. + +"Crankcase punctured," he said dully. "Aluminum. The bullet went right +through. We can't fly five miles. And Ribiera knows we're here--or +will." + + +CHAPTER IX + +There was the sound of weeping in the house, the gusty and hopeless +weeping of women. Bell had been walking around and around the plane, +staring at it with his hands clenched. Paula watched him. + +"I am thinking," she said in an attempt at courage, "that you said I +must not despair without your permission. But--" + +"Hush!" said Bell impatiently. He stared at the engine. "I'd give a +lot for a car. Bolts.... How many hours have we?" + +"Four," said Paula drearily. "Perhaps five. You have smashed the radio +in the house?" + +Bell nodded impatiently. He had smashed the radio, a marvelously +compact and foolproof outfit, arbitrarily tuned to a fixed short +wave-length. It was almost as simple to operate as a telephone. There +had been no opposition to the destruction. Paula's cousin had disabled +their plane and reported their presence. He was inside the house now, +sick with shame--and yet he would do the same again. In one of the +rooms of the house, behind strong bars, a man was kept who had been an +object-lesson.... + +"Is there any machinery?" asked Bell desperately. "Any at all about +the place?" + +Paula shook her head. + +"It may be that there is a pump." + +Bell went off savagely, hunting it. He came back and dived into the +cockpit of the plane. He came out with a wrench, and his jaws set +grimly. He worked desperately at the pump. He came back with two +short, thick bolts. + +He crawled into the plane again, tearing out the fire wall +impatiently, getting up under the motor. + +"We have one chance in five thousand," he said grimly from there, "of +getting away from here to crash in the jungle. Personally, I prefer +that to falling into Ribiera's hands. If your cousin or anybody else +comes near us, out here, call me, and I'll be much obliged." + + * * * * * + +There was the sound of scraping, patient, desperate, wholly +unpromising scraping. It seemed to go on for hours. + +"The wrench, please, Paula." + +She passed it to him. The bullet had entered the aluminum crankcase of +the motor and pierced it through. By special providence it had not +struck the crankshaft, and had partly penetrated the crankcase on the +other side. Bell had cut it out, first of all. He had two holes in the +crankcase, then, through which the cylinder oil had drained away. And +of all pieces of machinery upon earth, an aircraft motor requires oil. + +Bell's scraping had been to change the punctured holes of the bullet +into cone shaped bores. The aluminum alloy was harder than pure +aluminum, of course, but he had managed it with a knife. Now he fitted +the short bolts in the bores, forced the threads on them to cut their +own grooves, and by main strength screwed them in to a fit. He +tightened them. + +He came out with his eyes glowing oddly. + +"The vibration will work them loose, sooner or later," he observed +grimly, "and they may not be oil tight. Also, the crankshaft may clear +them, and it may not. If we go up in the ship in this state we may get +five miles away, or five hundred. At any minute it may fail us, and +sooner or later it will fail us. Are you game to go up, Paula?" + + * * * * * + +She smiled at him. + +"With you, of course." + +He began to brush off his hands. + +"There ought to be oil and gas here," he said briefly. "Another thing, +there'll probably be some metal chips in the crankcase, which may +stop an oil line at any minute. It's a form of committing suicide, I +imagine." + +He went off, hunting savagely for the supplies of fuel and lubricant +which would be stored at any emergency field. He found them. He was +pouring gasoline into the tanks before what he was doing was noticed. +Then there was stunned amazement in the house. When he had the +crankcase full of oil the young man came out. Bell tapped his revolver +suggestively. + +"With no man about this house," he said grimly, "Ribiera will put in +one of his own choice. And you have a wife and children and they'll be +at that man's mercy. Don't make me kill you. Ribiera may not blame you +for my escape if you tell him everything--and you're hurt, anyway. +Either we get away, and you do that, or you're killed and we get away +anyhow." + +He toppled two last five gallon tins of gasoline into the +cockpits--crowding them abominably--and swung on the prop. The engine +caught. Bell throttled it down, kicked away the stones with which he +had blocked its wheels, and climbed up into the pilot's cockpit. With +his revolver ready in his lap he taxied slowly over to a favorable +starting point. + + * * * * * + +The ship rose slowly, and headed west again. At three thousand feet he +cut out the motor to shout to Paula. + +"One place is as good as another to us, now. The whole continent is +closed to us by now. I'm going to try to find that headquarters and do +some damage. Afterwards, we'll see." + +He cut in the motor again and flew steadily westward. He rose +gradually to four thousand feet, to five.... He watched his +instruments grimly, the motor temperature especially. There were +flakes of metal in the oil lines. Twice he saw the motor temperature +rise to a point that brought the sweat out on his face. And twice he +saw it drop again. Bits of shattered metal were in the oiling system, +and they had partly blocked the stream of lubricant until the engine +heated badly. And each time the vibration had shifted them, or +loosened them.... + +They had left the big amphibian no earlier than nine o'clock. It was +noon when they took off for the _fazenda_ of Paula's kin. But it was +five o'clock and after when they rose from there with an engine which +might run indefinitely and might stop at any second. + +Bell did not really expect it to run for a long time. He had worked as +much to cheat Ribiera of the satisfaction of a victory as in hopes of +a real escape. But an hour, and the motor still ran. It was +consistently hotter than an aero engine should run. Twice it had gone +up to a dangerous temperature. One other time it had gone up for a +minute or more as if the oiling system had failed altogether. But it +still ran, and the sun was sinking toward the horizon and shadows were +lengthening, and Bell began to look almost hopefully for a clearing in +which to land before the dark hours came. + +Then it was that he saw the planes that had been sent for him and for +Paula. + + * * * * * + +There were three of them, fast two-seaters very much like the one he +drove. They were droning eastward, with all cockpits filled, from that +enigmatic point in the west. And Bell had descended to investigate a +barely possible stream when they saw him. + +The leader banked steeply and climbed upward toward him. The others +gazed, swung sharply, and came after him, spreading out as they came. +And Bell, after one instant's grim debate, went into a maple leaf dive +for the jungle below him. The others dived madly in his wake. He heard +a sharp, tearing rattle. A machine-gun. He saw the streaks of tracers +going very wide. Gunfire in the air is far from accurate. A +machine-gun burst from a hundred yards, when the gun has to be aimed +by turning the whole madly vibrating ship, is less accurate than a +rifle at six hundred, or even eight. Most aircraft duels are settled +at distances of less than a hundred yards. + +It was that fact that Bell counted on. With a motor that might go dead +at any instant and a load of passengers and gas at least equaling that +of any of the other ships, mere flight promised little. The other +ships, too, were armed, at any rate the leader was, and Bell had only +small arms at his disposal. But a plane pilot, stunting madly to dodge +tracer bullets, has little time to spare for revolver work. + + * * * * * + +Bell had but one advantage. He expected to be killed. He looked upon +both Paula and himself as very probably dead already. And he +infinitely preferred the clean death of a crash to either the life or +death that Ribiera would offer them. He flattened out barely twenty +yards above the waving branches that are the roof of the jungle. He +went scudding over the tree tops, rising where the jungle rose, +dipping where it dropped, and behind him the foliage waved wildly as +if in a cyclone. + +The other planes dared not follow. To dive upon him meant too much +chance of a dash into the entrapping branches. One plane, indeed, did +try it, and Bell scudded lower and lower until the wheels of the small +plane were spinning from occasional, breath taking contacts with the +feathery topmost branches of jungle giants. That other plane flattened +out not less than a hundred feet farther up and three hundred yards +behind. To fire on him with a fixed gun meant a dive to bring the gun +muzzle down. And a dive meant a crash. + + * * * * * + +A stream flashed past below. There was the glitter of water, +reflecting the graying sky. A downward current here dragged at the +wings of the plane. Bell jerked at the stick and her nose came up. +There was a clashing, despite her climbing angle, of branches upon the +running gear, but she broke through and shot upward, trying to stall. +Bell flung her down again into his mad careering. + +It was not exactly safe, of course. It was practically a form of +suicide. But Bell had not death, but life to fear. He could afford to +be far more reckless than any man who desired to live. The plane went +scuttling madly across the jungle tops, now rising to skim the top of +a monster _ceiba_, now dipping deliberately. + +The three pursuing planes hung on above him helplessly while the +short, short twilight of the tropics fell, and Bell went racing across +the jungle, never twenty feet above the tree top and with the boughs +behind him showing all the agitation of a miniature hurricane. As +darkness deepened, the race became more suicidal still, and there were +no lighted fields nearby to mark a landing place. But as darkness grew +more intense, Bell could dare to rise to fifty, then a hundred feet +above the tops, and the dangers of diving to his level remained +undiminished. And then it was dark. + + * * * * * + +Bell climbed to two hundred feet. To two hundred and fifty. With more +freedom, now, he could take one hand from the controls. He could feel +the menace of the tumultuously roaring motors in his wake, but he was +smiling very strangely in the blackness. He reached inside his flying +suit and tore away the front of his shirt. He reached down and +battered in the top of one of the five gallon gasoline tins in the +cockpit with the barrel of his revolver. He stuffed the scrap of cloth +into the rent. It was wetted instantly by the splashing. Another +savage blow, unheard in the thunder of the motor. In the peculiarly +calm air of the cockpit the reek of gasoline was strong, but cleared +away. And Bell, with the frosty grim smile of a man who gambles with +his life, struck a light. The cloth flared wildly, and he reached his +hands into the flame and heaved the tin of fuel overside. + +The cloth was burning fiercely, and spilled gasoline caught in +mid-air. A fierce and savage flame dropped earthward. Spark on the +cloth, and the cloud of inflammable vapor that formed where the +leaking tin fell plummetlike, carried the flame down when the wind of +its fall would have blown it out. + +The following planes saw a flash of light. They saw a swiftly +descending conflagration tracing a steep arch toward the tree tops. +They saw that flaming vanish among the trees. And then they saw a vast +upflaring of fire below. Flames licked upward almost to the tree +tops.... + +Bell looked back from two thousand feet. Wing-tip lights were on, +below, and disks of illumination played upon the roof of the jungle +above the fire. The three planes were hovering over the spot. But a +thick dense column of smoke was rising, now. Green things shriveling +in the heat, and dried and rotted underbrush. Altogether, the volume +of smoke and flame was very convincing evidence that an airplane had +burst into flame in mid-air and crashed through the jungle top to burn +to ashes beneath. + + * * * * * + +But Bell climbed steadily to five thousand feet. He cut out the motor, +there, and in the shrieking and whistling of wind as the plane went +into a shallow glide, he spoke sharply. + +"Paula?" + +"I am all right," she assured him unsteadily. "What now?" + +"There's a seat pack under you," said Bell. "It's a parachute. You'd +better put it on. God only knows where we'll land, but if the motor +stops we'll jump together. And I think we'll have to jump before dawn. +This plane won't fly indefinitely. There's just one chance in a +million that I know of. There'll be a moon before long. When it comes +up, look for the glitter of moonlight on water. With the wing-tip +lights we may--we may--manage to get down. But I doubt it." + +He moved his hand to cut in the motor again. She stopped him. + +"If we head south," she said unsteadily, "we may reach the Paraguay. +It is perhaps two hundred miles, but it is broad. We should see it. +Perhaps even the stars...." + +"Good work!" said Bell approvingly. "_Nils desperandum!_ That's our +motto, Paula." + +He swung off his course and headed south. He was flying high, now, and +an illogical and incomprehensible hope came to him. There was no hope, +of course. He had had, more than once, a despairing conviction that +the utmost result of all his efforts would be but the delaying of +their final enslavement to The Master, whose apparent impersonality +made him the more terrible as he remained mysterious. So far they +seemed like struggling flies in some colossal web, freeing themselves +from one snaring spot to blunder helplessly into another. + +But the moon came up presently, rounded and nearly full. The sky took +on a new radiance, and the jungle below them was made darker and more +horrible by the contrast. + +And when there were broad stretches of moonlit foliage visible on the +rising slopes beneath, Bell felt the engine faltering. He switched on +the instrument board light. One glance, and he was cold all over. The +motor was hot. Hotter than it had ever been. The oil lines, perhaps +the pump itself.... + + * * * * * + +Paula's hand reached back into the glow of the instrument board. He +leaned over and saw her pointing. Moonlight on rolling water, far +below. He dived for it, steeply. The wing-lights went on. Faint disks +of light appeared far below, sweeping to and fro with the swaying of +the plane, bobbing back and forth. + +It seemed to Bell that there had been nothing quite as horrible as +the next minute or two. He felt the over-heated, maltreated motor +laboring. It was being ruined, of course--and a ruined motor meant +that they were marooned in the jungle. But if it kept going only until +they landed. And if it did not.... + +White water showed below in the disks of the landing lights' glow. It +tumbled down a swift and deadly _raudal_--a rapid. And then--black, +deep water, moving swiftly between tall cliffs of trees. + +Bell risked everything to bank about and land toward the white water. +The little plane seemed to be sinking into a canyon as the trees rose +overhead on either side. But the moonlit rapid gave him his height, +approximately, and the lights helped more than a little. + + * * * * * + +He landed with a terrific crash. The plane teetered on the very verge +of a dive beneath the surface. Bell jerked back the stick and killed +the engine, and it settled back. + +A vast, a colossal silence succeeded the deafening noise of twelve +cylinders exploding continuously. There were little hissing sounds as +the motor cooled. There was the smell of burnt oil. + +"All right, Paula?" asked Bell quietly. + +"I--I'm all right." + +The plane was drifting backward, now. It spun around in a stately +fashion, its tail caught in underbrush, and it swung back. It drifted +past cliffs of darkness for a long time, and grounded, presently, with +a surprising gentleness. + +"Do you know," said Bell dryly, "this sort of thing is getting +monotonous. I think our motor's ruined. I never knew before that +misfortunes could grow literally tedious. I've been expecting to be +killed any minute since we started off, but the idea of being stuck in +the jungle with a perfectly good plane and a bad motor...." + +He fished inside his flying suit and extracted a cigarette. Then he +lit it. + +"Let's see.... We haven't a thing to eat, have we?" + + * * * * * + +There was a little slapping noise. Bell became suddenly aware of a +horde of insects swarming around him. Smoke served partially to drive +them off. + +"Look here," he said suddenly, "we could unfold a parachute and cover +the cockpits for some protection against these infernal things that +are biting me." + +"We may need the parachute," said Paula unsteadily. "Does--does that +smoke of yours drive them away?" + +"A little." Bell hesitated. "I say, it would be crowded, but if I came +up there, or you here...." + +"I--I'll come back there," she said queerly. "The extra cans of +gasoline here...." + +She slipped over the partition, in the odd flying suit which looks so +much more odd when a girl wears it. She settled down beside him, and +he tried painstakingly to envelope her in a cloud of tobacco smoke. +The plague of insects lessened. + +There was nothing to do but wait for dawn. She was very quiet, but as +the moon rose higher he saw that her eyes were open. The night noises +of the jungle all about them came to their ears. Furtive little +slitherings, and the sound of things drinking greedily at the water's +edge, and once or twice peculiar little despairing small animal cries +off in the darkness. + + * * * * * + +The jungle was dark and sinister, and all the more so when the moon +rose high and lightened its face and left them looking into weird, +abysmal blackness between moonlit branches. Bell thought busily, +trying not to become too conscious of the small warm body beside him. + +He moved, suddenly, and found her fingers closed tightly on the sleeve +of his flying suit. + +"Frightened, Paula?" he asked quietly. "Don't be. We'll make out." + +She shook her head and looked up at him, drawing away as if to scan +his face more closely. + +"I am thinking," she said almost harshly, "of biology. I wonder--" + +Bell waited. He felt an intolerable strain in her tensed figure. He +put his hand comfortingly over hers. And, astoundingly, he found it +trembling. + +"Are all women fools?" she demanded in a desperate cynicism. "Are we +all imbeciles? Are--" + +Bell's pulse pounded suddenly. He smiled. + +"Not unless men are imbeciles too," he said dryly. "We've been through +a lot in the past two days. It's natural that we should like each +other. We've worked together rather well. I--well"--his smile was +distinctly a wry and uncomfortable one--"I've been the more anxious to +get to some civilized place where The Master hasn't a deputy +because--well--it wouldn't be fair to talk about loving you while--" +he shrugged, and said curtly, "while you had no choice but to listen." + + * * * * * + +She stared at him, there in the moonlight with the jungle moving about +its business of life and death about them. And very, very slowly the +tenseness left her figure. And very, very slowly she smiled. + +"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you are lying to me, Charles. Perhaps. +But it is a very honorable thing for you to say. I am not ashamed, +now, of feeling that I wish to be always near you." + +"Hush!" said Bell. He put his arm about her shoulder and drew her +closer to him. He tilted her face upward. It was oval and quite +irresistibly pretty. "I love you," said Bell steadily. "I've been +fighting it since God knows when, and I'm going to keep on fighting +it--and it's no use. I'm going to keep on loving you until I die." + +Her fingers closed tightly upon his. Bell kissed her. + +"Now," he said gruffly, "go to sleep." + +He pressed her head upon his shoulder and kept it there. After a long +time she slept. He stirred, much later, and she opened her eyes again. + +"What is it?" + +"Damn these mosquitos," growled Bell. "I can't keep them off your +face!" + + +CHAPTER X + +For four hours after sunrise Bell worked desperately. With the few and +inadequate tools in the plane he took apart the oiling system of the +motor. It was in duplicate, of course, like all modern air engines, +and there were three magnetos, and double spark plugs. Bell drained +the crankcase beneath a sun that grew more and more hot and +blistering, catching the oil in a gasoline can that he was able to +empty into the main tanks. He washed out innumerable small oil pipes +with gasoline, and flushed out the crankcase itself, and had at the +end of his working as many small scraps of metal as would half fill a +thimble. He showed then to Paula. + +"And the stars in their courses fought against Sisera," he quoted +dryly. "Any one of these, caught in just the right place, would have +let us down into the jungle last night." + +She smiled up at him. + +"But they didn't." + +"No.... God loves the Irish," said Bell. "What's that thing?" + +Paula was fishing, sitting on a fallen tree in the cloud of smoke from +a smudge fire Bell had built for her. She was wearing the oily flying +suit he had found in the shed with the plane, and had torn strips from +her discarded dress to make a fishing line. The hook was made out of +the stiff wire handle of one of the extra gasoline tins. "Hook and +leader in one," Bell had observed when he made it. + + * * * * * + +He was pointing to a flat bodied fish with incredible jaws that lay on +the grass, emitting strange sounds even in the air. It flapped about +madly. Its jaws closed upon a stick nearly half an inch thick, and cut +it through. + +"It is a _piranha_," said Paula. "The same fish that bit your hand. It +can bite through a copper wire fastened to a hook, but this hook is so +long...." + +"Pleasant," said Bell. Something large and red passed before his eyes. +He struck at it instinctively. + +"Don't!" said Paula sharply. + +"Why?" + +"It's a _maribundi_ wasp," she told him "And its sting.... Children +have died of it. A strong man will be ill for days from one single +sting." + +"Still more pleasant," said Bell. "The jungle is a charming place, +isn't it?" He wiped the sweat off his face. "Any more little pets +about?" + +She looked about seriously. + +"There." She pointed to a sapling not far distant. "The _palo santo_ +yonder has a hollow trunk, and in it there are usually ants, which are +called fire-ants. They bite horribly. It feels like a drop of molten +metal on your flesh. And it festers afterwards. And there is a fly, +the _berni_ fly, which lays its eggs in living flesh. The maggot eats +its way within. I do not know much about the jungle, but my father +has--had a _fazenda_ in Matto Grosso and I was there as a child. The +_camaradas_ told me much about the jungle, then." + +Bell winced, and sat down beside her. She had Ribiera's pearl handled +automatic within easy reach. She saw him looking at it. + +"I do not think there is any danger," she said with a not very +convincing smile, "but there are _cururus_--water snakes. They grow +very large." + +"And I asked you to fish!" said Bell. "Stop it!" + + * * * * * + +She hauled the line ashore, with a flapping thing on the end of it. +Bell took the fish off and regarded her catch moodily. + +"I'd been thinking," he said moodily, "that Ribiera suspects we're +dead. I'd been envisioning ourselves as marooned, yes, but relatively +safe as long as we were thought to be dead. And I'd thought that if we +lived a sort of castaway existence for a few weeks we'd be forgotten, +and would have a faint chance of getting out to civilization without +being noticed. But this...." + +"I will stay," she said steadily. "I will stay anywhere or go +anywhere, with you." + +Bell's hand closed on her shoulder. + +"I believe it," he said heavily. "And--if you noticed--I had been +thinking of letting down the Trade. I'd been thinking of not trying to +fight The Master any longer, but only of getting you to safety. In a +sense, I was thinking of treason to my job and my government. I +suspect"--he smiled rather queerly--"I suspect we love each other +rather much, Paula. I'd never have dreamed for anyone else. Go over to +the plane and don't fish any more. I'll rustle the food for both of +us." + +She stood up obediently, smiling at him. + +"But kill that _piranha_ before you try to handle it," she advised +seriously. + +Bell battered the savage thing until it ceased to move. He picked it +up, then, and sniffed the air. Paula had been in a cloud of acrid +smoke. She could not have detected the taint in the air he discovered. +He went curiously, saw a broken branch overhead, and then saw +something on the ground. + + * * * * * + +He came back to the plane presently, looking rather sick. + +"Give me one of the machetes, Paula," he said quietly. "We brought +them, I think." + +"What is the matter?" + +He took the wide-bladed woods knife. + +"A man," he said, nauseated. "He either fell or was thrown from +somewhere high above. From a plane. He was United States Secret +Service. There's a badge in his clothes. Don't come." + +He went heavily over to the spot beyond the smudge fire. He worked +there for half an hour. When he came back there were earth stains on +his hands and clothing, and he carried a very small brown package in +his hand. + +"He had a report ready to send off," said Bell grimly. "I read it. +It's in code, of course, but in the Trade...." + +He set to work savagely on the engine, reassembling it. As he worked, +he talked in savage, jerky sentences. + +"The Service man at Asunción. One of the seven who vanished. He'd +learned more than we have. He was caught--poisoned, of course--and +pretended to surrender. Told a great deal that he shouldn't, in order +to convince The Master's deputy. The key men in nearly every republic +in South America are in The Master's power. Paraguay belongs to him, +body and soul. Bolivia is absolutely his. Every man of the official +class from the President down knows that he has two weeks or less of +sanity if The Master's deputy shuts down on him--and he knows that at +the crook of the deputy's finger he'll be assassinated before then. If +they run away, they go murder mad. If they stay, they have to obey +him. It's hellish!" + + * * * * * + +He stopped talking to make a fine adjustment. He went on, somberly. + +"Chile's not so bad off, but the deputy has slaves nearly everywhere. +Ecuador--well, the President and half of Congress have been poisoned. +The man I found was trying to get a sample of the poison for analysis. +He'd learned it was unstable. Wouldn't keep. The Master has to send +fresh supplies constantly all over the continent. That accounts for +the deputies remaining loyal. If The Master had reason to suspect +them, he had only to stop their supply.... They couldn't stock up on +the deadly stuff for their own use. So they're as abjectly subject to +The Master as their slaves are to them. No new slaves are to be made +in Paraguay or Bolivia, except when necessary. It's believed that in +six months the other republics will have every influential man +subjected. Every army officer, every judge, every politician, every +outstanding rich man.... And then, overnight, South America will +become an empire, with that devil of a Master as its overlord." + +He lifted one of the oil pumps in place and painstakingly tightened +the bolts that held it. + +"Picture it," he said grimly. "Beasts as viceroys, already taking +their pleasure. Caligulas, Neros, on viceregal thrones all over the +continent.... And every man who shows promise, or shows signs of honor +or courage or decency, either killed or sent mad or...." + + * * * * * + +Paula was watching his face closely. + +"I think," she said soberly, "that there is something worse." + +Bell was silent for an instant. + +"For me," he said bitterly, "it is. Before The Master dares to make +his coup public, he must be sure that there will be no foreign +interference. So, he must establish a deputy in Washington. A +relatively few chosen men, completely enslaved, could hold back our +Government from any action. Leaders in Congress, and members of the +Cabinet, working, in defense of The Master because his defeat would +mean their madness.... He would demand no treason of them at first. He +would require simply that he should not be interfered with. But his +plans include the appointment of deputies in the United States later +on. I don't think he can subdue America. I don't think so. But he +could--and I think he would--send whole cities mad. And if you think +of that...." + + * * * * * + +He was silent, working. A long, long time later he swung on the +propeller. The motor caught. He throttled it down and watched it +grimly. The motor warmed up to normal, and stayed there. + +"It will run," he said coldly. "Those two plugs in the crankcase may +come out at any time. I've tightened them a little. They'd worked +loose from the vibration. But--well.... That Service man was heading +for Asunción. He'd been found out. They probably shot him down in +mid-air after he'd gotten away. His plane may be crashed anywhere in +the jungle within a mile or so. And I've two bearings on the _fazenda_ +where Ribiera went, now. One from Asunción through here and one from +Rio. I want to go back there to-night and dump burning gasoline on the +buildings, to do enough damage to disorganize things a little. Then +I'm going to try to make it to a seaport. We can stow away, perhaps." + +He shut off the motor. + +"We'll start at dusk. There'll be lights there. This report says it's +nearly a city--of slaves. We want the darkness for our getaway." + +Paula looked at the sky. + +"We have three hours," she said quietly. "Let us cook and eat. You +must keep up your strength, Charles." + +She said it in all seriousness, with the air of one who has entire +confidence and is merely solicitous. And Bell, who knew of at least +three excellent reasons why neither of them should survive until +dawn--Bell looked at her queerly, and then grinned, and then took her +in his arms and kissed her. She seemed to like it. + +And they lunched quite happily on _piranha_ and _pacu_--which is +smaller--and drank water, and for dessert had more _piranha_. + + * * * * * + +The long afternoon wore away slowly. It was hot, and grew blistering. +Insects came in swarms and tormented them until Bell built a second +and larger smudge fire. But they fastened upon his flesh when he went +out of its smoke for more wood. + +They talked, as well as they could for smoke, and looked at each other +as well as they could for smarting eyes. It was not at all the +conventional idea of romantic conversation, but it was probably a good +deal more honest than most, because they both knew quite well that +their chance of life was small. A plane whose motor was precariously +patched, flying over a jungle without hope of a safe landing if that +patched-up motor died, was bad enough. But with the three nearest +nations subservient to The Master, whose deputy Ribiera was, and all +those nations hunting them as soon as they were known to be yet +alive.... + +"Would it not be wise, Charles," asked Paula wistfully, "just for us +to try to escape, ourselves, and not try--" + +"Wise, perhaps," admitted Bell, "but I've got to strike a blow while I +can." He was staring somberly at the little plane, fast upon a mud +bank, with the tall green jungle all about. "The deputies and all +their slaves have their lives hanging by a thread--the thread of a +constant supply of the antidote to the poison that's administered with +the antidote. The deputies--Ribiera, for instance--don't realize that. +Else they wouldn't dare do the things they do. But let them realize +that the thread can be broken, and what their slaves would do to them +before they all went mad.... You see? Let them learn that a blow has +been struck at the center of all the ghastly thing, and they'll be +frightened. They'll be close to mutiny through sheer panic. And there +may be slip-ups." + + * * * * * + +It was vague, perhaps, but it was true. The subjection of the poisoned +men and women was due not only to terror of what would happen if they +disobeyed the deputies, but to a belief that that thing would not +happen if they did obey. If Bell could do enough damage to the +_fazenda_ of The Master to shake the second belief, he would have +shaken the whole conspiracy. And a conspiracy that is not a complete +success is an utter failure. + +It was close to sunset when they heard a droning noise in the +distance. Bell went swiftly to the cockpit of the plane and searched +the sky. + +"Don't see it," he said grimly, "and it probably doesn't see us. We're +all right, I suppose." + +But he was uneasy. The droning noise grew to a maximum and slowly died +away again. It diminished to a distant muttering. + +"What say," said Bell suddenly, "we get aloft now? We'll follow that +damned thing home. It's going from Asunción to that place we want to +find. This is on that route. Whoever's in it won't be looking behind, +and it's close to darkness." + + * * * * * + +Paula stood up. + +"I am ready, Charles." + +Bell swung out on the floats and tugged at the prop. The motor caught +and roared steadily. While it was warming up, he stripped off the rest +of his shirt and tore it into wide strips, and tied the rags in the +handles of the gasoline tins in the two cockpits. + +"For our bombs," he explained, smiling faintly. "You'll want to wear +your chute pack, Paula. You know how to work it? And we'll divide the +guns and what shells we have, and stick them in the flying suit +pockets." + +He made her show him a dozen times that she knew how to pull out the +ring that would cause the parachute to open. She climbed into the +front cockpit and smiled down at him. He throttled down the motor to +its lowest speed and shoved off from the mud bank. Clambering up, +while the plane moved slowly over the water under the gentle pull of +the slow-moving propeller, he bent over and kissed her. + +"For luck," he said in her ear. + +The next instant he settled down at the controls, glanced a last time +at the instruments, and gave the motor the gun. + + * * * * * + +The plane lifted soggily but steadily and swept up-stream toward the +rolling water of the _raudal_, which tumbled furiously about an +obstacle half of stones and shallows, and half of caught and rotting +tree trunks. It rose steadily until the trees dropped away on either +side and the jungle spread out on every hand. It rose to a thousand +feet and went roaring through the air to northward, while Bell +strained his eyes for the plane on ahead. + +It was ten minutes or more before he sighted it, winging its way +steadily into the misty distance above the jungle. Bell settled down +to follow. The engine roared valorously. For half an hour Bell watched +it anxiously, but it remained cool and had always ample power. Paula's +head showed above the cockpit combing. Mostly she looked confidently +ahead, but once or twice she turned about to smile at him. + +The sun seemed high when they rose from the water, but as it neared +the horizon its rate of descent seemed to increase. They had been in +the air for no more than three-quarters of an hour when it was twice +its own disk above the far distant hills. Almost immediately, it +seemed, it had halved that distance. And then the lower limb of the +blaring circle was sharply cut off by the hill crests and the sun sank +wearily to rest behind the edge of the world. + +It seemed as if a swift chill breeze blew over the jungle, in warning +of the night. The trees became dark. A shadowy dusk filled the air +even up to where the plane flew thunderously on. And then, quite +abruptly, stars were shining and it was night. + + * * * * * + +Bell remembered, suddenly, and switched on the radio as an experiment. +The harsh, discordant dashes sounded in his ears through the roaring +of the motor. A beam of short waves was being sent out from his +destination. While he was on the direct path the monotonous signals +could be heard. When they weakened or died he would have left the way. + +But they continued, discordant and harsh and monotonous, while the +last faint trace of the afterglow died away and night was complete, +and a roof of many stars glittered overhead, and the jungle lay dark +and deadly below him. + +For nearly half an hour more he kept on. Twice he switched on the +instrument board light to glance at the motor temperature. The first +time it appeared a little high. The second time it was normal again. +But there was little use in watching instruments. If the motor failed +there was no landing field to make for. + +A sudden faint glow sprang into being, many miles ahead. The pinkish +glare of many, many lights turned on suddenly. As the plane thundered +on the glow grew brighter. An illuminated field, for the convenience +of messengers who carried the poison for The Master to all the nations +which were to be subjected. + +The glow went out as Bell was just able to distinguish long rows of +twinkling bulbs, and he saw the harsher, fiercer glow of floodlights. +He reached forward and touched Paula's shoulder. Conversation was +impossible over the motor's roar. Her hand reached up and pressed his. + +Then he saw other lights. Bright lights, as from houses. Arc lights as +from storage warehouses, or something of the sort. A long, long row of +lighted windows, which might be dormitories or perhaps sheds in which +The Master's enslaved secretaries kept the record of his victims. + + * * * * * + +The earth flung back the roaring of the little plane's motor. Bell had +but little time to act before other planes would dart upward to seek +him out. He dived, and the wing tip landing lights went on, sending +fierce glares downward. Twin disks of light appeared upon the earth. +Sheds, houses, a long row of shacks as if for laborers. A drying +field, on which were spread out plants with their leaves turning +brown. A wall about it.... + +"The damned stuff," said Bell grimly. + +He swept on. Jungle, only jungle. He banked steeply as lights flicked +on and off below and as--once--the wing tip lights showed men running +frantically two hundred feet below. + +Then a stream of fire shot earthward, and Bell held up his hand and +arm into the blast of the slip stream. It blew out the blaze that had +licked at his flesh. He stared down. The gas can had left a trailing +stream of fluid behind it as it went spinning down to earth. All that +stream of inflammable stuff was aflame. The can itself struck earth +and seemed to explode, and the trailing mass of fire was borne onward +by the wind and lay across a row of thatch-roofed buildings. An +incredible sheet of fire spread out. The stuff in the drying yard was +burning. + +Bell laughed shortly, and flung over another of his flaming bombs, and +another, and the fourth.... + + * * * * * + +He climbed for the skies, then, as rectangles of light showed below +and planes were thrust out of their lighted hangars. Four huge +conflagrations were begun. One was close by a monster rounded tank, +and Bell watched with glistening eyes as it crept closer. Suddenly--it +seemed suddenly, but it must have been minutes later--flame rushed up +the sides of that tank, there was a sudden hollow booming, and fire +was flung broadcast in a blazing, pouring flood. + +"Their fuel tank!" said Bell, his eyes gleaming in the ruddy light +from below. He shut off his landing lights and went upward, steeply. +"I've played hell with them now!" + +A thousand feet up. Two thousand. Two thousand five hundred.... And +suddenly Bell felt cold all over. The instrument board! The motor was +hot. Hot! Burning! + +He shut it off before it could burst into flames, but he heard the +squealing of tortured, unlubricated metal grinding to a stop. He +leveled out. It was strangely, terribly silent in the high darkness, +despite the roaring of wind about the gliding plane. The absence of +the motor roar was the thing that made it horrible. + +"Paula," said Bell harshly, "one of those plugs came out, I guess. The +motor's ruined. Dead. The ship's going to crash. Ready with your +parachute?" + + * * * * * + +It was dark, up there, save for the glare of fires upon the under +surface of the wings. But he saw her hand, encarmined by that glare, +upon the combing of the cockpit. A moment later her face. She turned, +light-dazzled, to smile back at him. + +"All right, Charles." Her voice quavered a little, but it was very +brave. "I'm ready. You're coming, too?" + +"I'm coming," said Bell grimly. Below them was the city of The Master, +set blazing by their doing. If their chutes were seen descending.... +And if they were not.... "Count ten," said Bell hoarsely, "and pull +out the ring. I'll be right after you." + +He saw the slim little black-clad figure drop, plummetlike, and prayed +in an agony of fear. Then a sudden blooming thing hid it from sight. +Thick clouds of smoke lay over the lights and fires below. + +Bell stepped over the side and went hurtling down toward the earth in +his turn. + +(_To be continued_) + +[Advertisement: ] + + + + +The Cavern World + +_By James P. Olsen_ + +[Illustration: _He aimed it, and the Thing gripping him was hurled +back upon the others._] + +[Sidenote: A great oil field had gone dry--and Asher, trapped far +under the earth among the revolting Petrolia, learns why.] + + +"Impossible! What sort of creatures would they be, that could live two +miles beneath the surface of the earth? Surely, Asher, you are +joking!" + +R. Briggs Johns, mighty power back of Stan-America Oil Corporation, +looked at Blaine Asher closely, expecting to see the chief geologist +and scientist of the company laugh. But Blaine Asher did not laugh. +Serious, his rather thin face grave as he leaned his tall, muscular +body above a torsion machine he was adjusting, there was nothing to +indicate he had the faintest idea of a joke. + +"Why damn it, Asher!" Johns insisted wrathfully, "you don't really +mean that. And"--he took a nervous turn around the laboratory--"if +such a wild thing were possible, what has that to do with our trouble? +You haven't led me on to spend a million dollars drilling a +thirty-six-inch hole, just so you could test a fantastic theory?" + +"You know better than that." Asher wiped his hands and leaned against +a table. Johns, looking into the cool gray eyes of the man before him, +did know better. Blaine Asher was more than just a geologist or +scientist. Well he might be termed a master geo-metallurgist. Johns +nodded, wiping beads of perspiration from his brow. + +"You say impossible--and want to know how those creatures cause this +field, the largest oil field in the world, to start going bone dry +over night. All right: + +"Remember how you laughed when I told you that oil would some day be +mined instead of pumped or flowed from the earth? You couldn't see how +one central shaft could be sunk, then tunnels run back underneath the +oil strata, tapping the sand from the bottom and letting the oil run +down to be pumped out one shaft. Yet, that way, we would get _all_ the +oil, instead of the possible one-eighth of the total amount as we get +by present methods. + +"Now, you have seen that done. And you said that was impossible." + + * * * * * + +"Yes," Johns objected, "but those test wells we mined were only a few +hundred feet deep. Wells in this field are eight thousand feet deep! +Think of the heat, man! You can't do it. And as for people--" + +"Your great field has suddenly gone dry, almost in a month's time," +Asher stopped him. "What is happening here can happen elsewhere. Only, +formations in this field are more suited to there being life--or +something--below us. Stan-America is going broke. Many others have +already gone broke. Still, that oil couldn't have gotten away. + +"As for heat--yes, we know that oil is hot when it comes up from the +oil sand at eight thousand feet, or from ordinary wells at three to +six thousand feet. But"--Asher lit a cigarette and inhaled +deeply--"gas coming out of the same well is _cold_! So cold it forms +frost inches thick on pipes and tanks. + +"Rock pressure--the pressure of the earth--forcing up the gas, causes +that. Why couldn't that same pressure cool great caverns below the +granite cap below the oil sands? It could. For that matter, I know +that same pressure will generate useful power. I'll show you that in a +minute." + +"All right!" Johns chewed his cigar almost savagely. "Say, then, that +you can work down there, nearly two miles underground; granted that we +can tunnel from beneath the sands and pump more oil from one central +shaft than we now do from fifty wells--what has that to do with this +tosh about a race of people?" + +"They are not people, perhaps." Asher grinned at the "there, I've +stuck you!" look on Johns' face. "Let's say, rather, creatures. Have +you ever met Lee Wong, the great Chinese scientist, or his Russian +geological collaborator, Krenski? No? + + * * * * * + +"Well, I have. I met them in Paris in 1935--five years ago. They're +brilliant men, and they've prepared some wonderful papers. Brilliant, +I said: they are also dangerous. They claim, you know, that the +fossils we now drill up come from a lost race--people who went _into_ +the earth while man, like us, was coming up onto the earth from the +water. Some claim those fossils have been on the surface at one time, +and were silted over. But eight thousand feet is a lot of silt, Johns: +ever thought of that?" + +"Good God!" Johns gasped hoarsely. "You almost make me believe you are +right. But, supposing there is such a race of things--what will you +do?" + +"This." Asher drew back a curtain that was stretched across one end of +the laboratory. "You know I was working on a cage in which to descend +into that eight-thousand-foot well you've drilled--the well you're +going to use to try and find why this field is suddenly gone dry. This +it it." + +Johns stared, shook his head wonderingly and stared again. Before him, +ready to be transported to the well that was larger than any ever +drilled before, stood what Blaine Asher called his Miner, for want of +a better name. + +A thick steel tube, it was. Twelve feet long and large enough around +that a man might stand inside of it. The top was welded on in much the +manner a top is welded on an ordinary hot-water heater, and had +connections for hose in it. At the height of a man's eyes heavy +windows were set in, and in one side was a door just large enough to +admit a man's body. This door sealed tight the minute it closed. + +"It looks like--like some sort of a deep sea diving outfit," Johns +said as he walked around the braces that held the Miner upright. "But +all those gadgets inside and on the bottom--?" He indicated the +strange instruments that could be seen when the door was opened, and +the queer glass tubes that projected from the very bottom. + + * * * * * + +"Pressure-power units--my own invention," Asher told him. "For ten +years I've been working on this. I knew that some day I would want to +explore the oil caverns beneath the earth, so I made ready. + +"As I told you, rock pressure, or earth pressure, is a tremendous +thing. It is power, so I figured how to use it. Under artificial +pressure, I have tried out my Miner and its equipment. + +"Those tubes sticking from the bottom contain something you are +familiar with: non-burning and non-explosive helium gas. I have +discovered a way, by their use, to create power that will melt away +rock or iron--literally dissolve it into nothing! Not in an hour, or +minutes. In seconds, Johns! + +"The pressure of the earth acts as my generator. The pressure action +on the filaments of platinum, and several compositions I have no time +to explain now, causes heat. Call it friction of compressed air, if +you wish. As neon gases carry an electric spark, so does this helium +carry the power generated by earth pressure. The pressure below earth +acts on the delicate coils and points of my generator. This bit of +power is carried into the helium tubes, and by a system of vacuum +power, is increased millions of times. Thus, the tiny spark of a cigar +lighter would electrocute a hundred men!" + +"I--you mean somewhat like a violet ray is increased in the lightning +tubes?" Johns strove to grasp the foundation of the thing. + +"Yes, the foundation of it all--with the earth's pressure the power +motive," Asher nodded. "So, after my Miner is on the bottom of our +well, I can burn--or dissolve--a room as large as this laboratory in a +few minutes. The whole thing is no mystery after you learn it--not +nearly so much as radium, or radio, was. Merely creating a spark of +electricity and fanning it through a vacuum and a conductor of massed +gases." + +"But"--Johns had unconsciously dropped his voice to a whisper--"what +of these strange creatures? How would you deal with them? Damn it, +Asher, I think I'm beginning to believe this nutty idea of yours. Any +man who can generate power with the pressure of air as it is packed by +earth must know what he is talking about!" + +"I have but one protection against anything down there that tries to +harm me," Asher said simply. "That is this--see?" + + * * * * * + +What he held up looked like an old-fashioned six shooter. It was +fitted with a platinum-sealed box in the place where a cylinder would +have been. The barrel looked like some queer, blue glass. + +"Do you see that test tube?" Asher pointed to a glass tube on a table +a few feet away. "Now watch." + +He pressed a tiny ratchet under his thumb. A snapping, buzzing noise +filled the laboratory. Johns gave an exclamation of wonder and awe. +Quickly, the test tube started to melt into a pool of molten glass. +Asher increased the pressure of his ratchet trigger. The tube was +knocked to the floor. + +"Static electricity--always some form of electricity," said Asher +grinning at the astonished oil baron. "Conductor coils here," he +continued as he tapped the sealed cylinder, "are charged much as a +flash-lamp battery. The charged conductors attract the static +electricity of the air, and, in a manner similar to the action of the +power generator, increase power. There is a slight difference: by +turning quick power on my static gun, I can cause the charge to knock +down and merely electrocute, as I knocked the half-melted tube from +the table." + +"I can understand that, a little," Johns sighed profoundly. "It's the +same juice that causes a gasoline truck to catch fire if you don't +have a ground chain on it somewhere. But, just the same, I claim it's +remarkable." + +"Not half as remarkable as what I expect to find two miles down when I +descend to-morrow." Asher had a dreamy look in his eyes. "I wonder: +new ways to get petroleum wealth ... a strange people...." + + * * * * * + +"Men,"--Asher, a tight-fitting asbestos composition suit covering him +from foot to neck, spoke tersely--"when you get me on bottom, stop +every bit of machinery, and don't dare pull up until I give the +signal. If I'm down there the entire day, all right. But"--he smiled, +trying to make light of the danger--"if I don't signal within +thirty-six hours, pull up anyhow." + +From the bull-wheels of the drilling rig Asher spooled out some of the +air-hose cable through which air blown over ice would be pumped into +the Miner; then when the long steel cylinder was over the hole and +ready, he turned to the company officials and government scientists +and engineers around him in the boarded-up derrick. + +"Possibly I can get a survey in an hour. Perhaps I'll have to come +back to the surface and make adjustments to my equipment. That remains +to be seen.... Now, let's get low." + +He adjusted a helmet over his head. It looked much like the helmet +worn by a sea diver, except that it had no connecting hose for air. +The windows in the helmet, which contained pressure lights, worked on +the same principle as the disintegrating rays of the Miner. When Asher +turned the ratchet that set the little pressure machine into motion, a +violet tinged green ray of great lighting power shot out and +increased, by weight of air, or atmosphere beneath the earth, the +power of one tiny spark a million times. + +Without ceremony or farewell, Asher crawled inside his tube. The door +was closed and he fastened it from inside. For a moment, wild panic +assailed him. But he fought it off, becoming again less the feeling +human and more the cold calculator of advanced science. The light from +outside, coming in through the windows of the Miner, was shut off. The +long steel cage clanked against the sides of the special casing in the +well, and Blaine Asher was on his trip into a lower world never before +visited by man. + +That was what Asher believed. But, had he known what waited for him, +two miles into the bowels of the earth.... + + * * * * * + +At five hundred feet, the descent stopped, giving him time to adjust +himself to the pressure change. The gas and oil had been eased out of +the hole. That is, the casing had been run on through the producing +strata, shutting it off. Asher signaled by buzzer, and a stream of the +ice-washed air flowed down to him. + +Three thousand feet! Six thousand feet! More than a mile down! Sweat +poured from his body in streams, and the air coming into the Miner +through the hose did not relieve him. It was hot--almost unbearably +so. His ears were roaring. The dark of his tube was relieved as he +turned on his pressure lamps. He adjusted the pressure discs over his +ears by twisting a thumbscrew on his helmet, and the pounding of his +ear-drums ceased. + +Gasping, he watched the depth meter in front of him. It did not seem +as if he was moving, but the indicator now showed more than seven +thousand feet. It moved around slowly and more slowly; trembled at +eight thousand--and stopped. + +Like the snapping of a man's fingers, the temperature inside the Miner +changed. Asher was now fifty feet below the bottom of the oil and gas +sands, and if his theory about rock pressure worked.... It _was_ +working. Frost was forming on the inside of the Miner! + +"I'm right--right--right!" Asher thought, elated, sending his buzzer +signal up to those so far above. The icy air through his hose changed +to air of normal temperature. He signaled for slack in the lowering +cable, then prepared for the greatest test of all. + +Cramped, with hardly room to move, he studied his gages. Helium tubes +at the proper pressure for compressing the tiny spark of the pressure +generator, so it would flare a million times stronger under the action +of the vacuum tubes: diamond and cut-glass tubes in the bottom of the +Miner, thermoed with layers of quicksilver: everything cleared, +everything ready. + + * * * * * + +His hand shaking, Asher pushed the tiny switch that brought his +filament points trembling together under the atmospheric pressure so +far underground. A tiny spark danced and throbbed through the tiny +glass tube before him, beginning to buzz as it started the circuit of +increasing coils, and soon humming and vibrating as the helium and +vacuum tubes swelled it to full power. Spark after spark, increased +almost beyond imagination, followed one after another. The Miner +throbbed and shook. + +White-faced, Asher touched the little lever that opened the blasting +outlets in the bottom. Almost instantly the Miner dropped a full six +inches--went on, down to a foot. Asher, pride of success choking him, +pulled the lever hard over, which brought some of the tubes beneath +him spreading out, to blast away the earth on each side of him. + +He signaled for more and more slack as the depth indicator showed he +had burned, or disintegrated, his way down to thirty feet beyond the +original bottom of the hole. He was below the bottom of the protecting +wall of casing now--at the mercy of the pressure of two miles of +earth. + +Slowly, setting all his bottom tubes to cutting away on all sides of +him, he started hollowing out enough room to step out into. His +lights, when he looked through the windows, showed ghostly on earth +ten feet on each side of him. Ten more minutes and he had created a +room nearly twenty-five feet square--a man-made cave, two miles below +the surface. + +There was something akin to awe in the feelings of Asher when he +opened the little door, crawled out and stood erect. The pressure +lamps in his helmet lit up the room he had made. There were no sounds, +just a vague, ringing silence. + +Then so quickly that it robbed him of his senses, two things happened. +A hundred yards away from the well in which he had descended, another +well, drilled by another oil company, was shot. Three hundred quarts +of nitro-glycerine were set off in the hole. + + * * * * * + +Asher screamed and clamped his ear discs down tight. It seemed the +very gods of thunder were shrieking and raging in his head; every +nerve and fiber in his body throbbed and tingled with the hellish +vibration. + +On his knees, where the shock had thrown him, in darkness beyond +description, Asher realized the lights from the Miner no longer shone +out. Frantically, he adjusted the small lights in his helmet and got +them to sending off their rays again. Then, an icy hand seemed to +squeeze his heart, turning his blood to ice-water in his veins. He +cursed himself for not foreseeing that some company might shoot a well +close by, while he was underground. + +He turned. The Miner was all right, but Blaine Asher was trapped! For +the walls of the hole below the bottom of the casing had caved. Thirty +feet of rock, sand and conglomerate matter were between him and the +bottom of the pipe. + +He was trapped--two miles below the earth. There was no hope of +rescue, the hope that miners feel in deep shafts. There could be no +rescue for Asher. No one could get to him. He cried out his horror, +fighting to keep from swooning. + +The helmet hampered him. He turned on a small pressure lamp attached +to the belt at his waist, and chanced taking the helmet off. Dank and +nauseous was the air that he breathed, since it no longer came through +the filters in his helmet. But it was air that would serve, +nevertheless. + +A crackling, rumbling sound caused him to turn quickly. Eyes wide, he +stared at the long crack that was opening before him. + +Asher was between two layers of granite--one layer under him, and +another above him, just below the oil sands. Now, as the crack between +these two layers widened, he could see it slope downward until it +ended in a great cavern that stretched endlessly away beyond the beams +of his light. + + * * * * * + +It wasn't this crack that caused Blaine Asher, an iron-hearted man of +science, to choke and sag down to a sitting position, his knees +refusing to support him. No--it was the terrible, Godless, +unbelievable _Things_ that scurried around in the smooth rock hall +that stretched away into the cavern. + +Frozen with soul-chilling fear, Asher stared with eyes that bulged. +What were they? Spawned neither of God nor Satan--what could they be? +Black-skinned--or was it skin?--like rubber, with round bodies, like +black basket balls inflated to triple size; bodies that seemed to +ripple, distort, swell and contract with life within life. + +Short, foot-long stems that must have been legs, ending in round balls +that served as feet, no doubt. Tentacles, Asher would have called +them, six feet in length, thick as mighty cables and dotted with +suckers like the tentacles of an octopus. And heads--Asher gagged and +vomited! + +Not heads. Just masses of the black body substance as large as the two +fists of a man. In each head was a crooked black gash for a mouth. +There were no eyes that Asher could see. Yet, these Things seemed to +see one another, and emitted strange, chill, squeaking sounds! + +As Asher watched, the Things sensed his presence. A half hundred of +them rose and started toward him. They did not walk, nor did they +crawl. Undulating, contorting strangely, they came on with incredible +speed, long tentacles waving before them; slithering on the rocky +floor of the cavern; making those odd squeaking noises. + +As they neared him, Asher sprang to his feet, backing up against the +pile of cavings beside the Miner. A long tentacle whipped out and +wrapped around his leg. A short, snout-tentacle quivered toward his +face. There was strength beyond imagining in the grip on him. + + * * * * * + +With an almost animal snarl the man from the earth's surface moved to +protect himself from these creatures, surely of the lowest living +order. He grabbed into the pocket of his loose asbestos composition +suit, and his fingers closed comfortingly around the static gun. + +He aimed it, and the Thing gripping him was hurled back upon the +others. Crackling, snapping viciously, the charges of electricity that +were drawn from the very earth increased in the gun and spumed out +like lightning bolts. The Things squeaked excitedly and surged +forward. Asher's finger pulled the ratchet trigger full force, and +like dew before a strong shaft of sunlight, the gruesome Things were +knocked away. + +Hating the sight, Asher changed the charge of his gun, cutting the +size of the path the volts covered, thereby increasing the potency of +the discharge. The piled bodies sizzled, and to Asher's nose came a +sulphurous smell. Then, there was nothing at all.... + +Sick, he put the gun back into the deep pocket and leaned on the wall. +He turned around again to the pile of cavings that barred his way from +the surface, and dug like a madman with his bare hands. The Miner was +weighed down, and he could not use it anyhow. The blasting tubes were +on the bottom, and could not be shifted to the top. + +Suddenly he stopped his crazed work, raised his head and listened. "My +God!" he gasped hoarsely, "am I stark mad?" He thought he must be, for +the voice of a human being came to his ears. + +"You will be pleased, Blaine Asher, to turn around! And do not make +any foolish moves, I warn you." + +"Lee Wong! Krenski!" Asher turned, face to face with the +super-scientists of whom he had spoken to R. Briggs Johns the day +before. Asher shook his head. More of the terrible dream, this meeting +two humans down in the earth's core. + + * * * * * + +"Most right, honorable Asher." Lee Wong bowed mockingly. He and +Krenski were garbed in loose-fitting garments of much the same style +as Asher. In their hands, they carried static guns. Not the small gun, +such as Asher had concealed in his pocket. More like heavy air drills, +they were. + +Asher frowned at the lamps they carried. He knew by the dazzling +action of the rays that they were pressure lamps. But they gave off +much better light than those of his own invention. They had gone him +one better there. + +"Did--did you see them?" Asher gulped. "And how--how did you get down +here? Tell me!" He took a step toward Lee Wong, intending to lay his +hand on the Chinaman, to make sure he was live flesh and blood, and +not a figment of his disordered brain. + +"Stand where you are!" Lee Wong snapped. He held the heavy static gun +up and Asher felt a light charge tingle his body. "Those Things of +which you speak--I assume you mean the Petrolia. Ah, yes, we see them. +Every day, we see them. For us they work. They work, my dear Blaine +Asher, tapping upward into the oil sands; sands that are burial places +of countless millions of generations of Petrolia; of lost races that +once ruled supreme over these underground worlds. + +"How simple, to take the oil from below--the oil you want so much +above. Someone must do the work. I and Krenski found the Petrolia +ready and willing. Being creatures of feeling, with little sense, we +were able to bend their dying wills to do our work. You see, we made +them feel we would save them, a dying race, from extinction! They do +our bidding." + +Asher was bewildered by the enormity of the thing. "You mean these +Things you have called Petrolia actually work for you? And that you +saved them from becoming extinct?" + + * * * * * + +"Exactly," Lee Wong nodded, seeming to be enjoying himself. "Like +humans of the surface, Petrolia live on the dead. I mean, wherever we +get our living food from the earth, we plant our dead back in that +earth. Petrolia are spawned in beds of petroleum. Just as eels seek +deep water to lay their eggs, so do Petrolia go to the oil strata to +spawn future tribes. + +"When we pump out the oil, they have no--shall we say +"hatching?"--beds. But now, by tapping and bringing down the oil, we +have assured them more spawning pits. They will increase, and we have +made them sense it. For that matter, the very oil they breed in, gives +them sustenance. That is why they are black fleshed and blooded, and +have suckers instead of mouths, as a black man is black through ages +beneath hot suns. + +"It's easy for us, who are wiser than other men, to figure what +oilfield might contain such people. We have a rapid elevator +connecting us to the surface. And--" + +"Then," Asher almost shouted, "I'm not trapped!" + +"No?" Lee Wong wrinkled his forehead quizzically. "You should realize +that we cannot allow you to go back to the surface--alive, or any +other way. We intend to increase the Petrolia, spreading them to other +underground, yet uninhabited worlds. You would spoil that. + +"No, you will never return to the surface. They cannot haul your tube +to the top, so they will think you perished in it. And"--Lee Wong +shrugged--"it might have been better if you had, Mr.--" + +"_I wouldn't!_" the yellow man snarled. He rolled the ratchet of his +static gun and Asher was hurled to the floor by the heavy shock. +Wisely, he stood up, keeping his hands well away from the pocket in +which his own gun rested. He doubted whether his little static gun +could compete with the guns of the others, but it was something. They +had not thought to search him--perhaps they might not. It was his only +hope. + + * * * * * + +Lee Wong bowed low again, motioning Asher to go ahead. "Now you shall +see what we have done. We are proud, and we know you can appreciate +our workings. You will be glad to learn why we do as we are doing; you +will be intrigued as a fellow scientist. Then, so sad to say, you must +perish for having gained that very knowledge." + +Asher shrugged, and through half-closed lids he eyed Lee Wong and the +rather small, slender Krenski, of the high brow and large head. Then +he walked ahead of them. Head up, shoulders back, he walked carelessly +down the wide hall--a hall that led into the main cavern of that +underground empire. + +It was large--fully a hundred feet in a rough square. Not fifteen feet +from floor to ceiling at any point, it followed the course of the two +layers of granite between which it was sandwiched. Other long halls, +or crevices, ran in every direction out of this main cavern. In the +walls, in niches and cracks, the superior pressure lamps had been +placed, throwing a bright, eery light over it all. + +Asher recoiled suddenly at the sight of hundreds of Petrolia that +swarmed the hallways, and they seemed to sense another presence beside +that of Lee Wong or Krenski. A choked, gurgling sound came from the +Chinaman, and they disappeared down the halls, squeaking angrily as +they went. + +"Our control room," explained Lee Wong waving his hand about him. He +pointed to a dozen twenty-four inch pipe-lines that ran along the low +ceiling, coming from as many different halls into the room, but all +going out the same large hall, larger than the rest. "There are the +arteries of our system. There is the oil that is so--shall we say +strangely?--missing in your wells." He smiled, a taunting, mocking +light in his eyes. + +"You well understand how we do it. Above us, just below the oil +strata, is a steel, trough-shaped roof. The oil, tapped from below, +drains into these, and then into these pipe-lines. If we were working +from above, now, we would run it to a central shaft, and pump it out. +We do not want it on the surface, however." + + * * * * * + +"Then why in the name of hell do you want it?" Asher barked, a tense +note of anger in his voice. "And what do you do with it?" These two +were humans. At least, they were in man-form, if not in feeling. And +the Petrolia could be handled. Asher was getting mad, and his fear +ebbed. + +"Come." Lee Wong led the way under the pipe-lines, down the large +hall. Krenski, his heavy static gun ready, walked at Asher's back. +They came out into another cavern that stretched beyond the powerful +lights. The sound of their voices echoed like thunder of the drums of +Thor, and Asher realized this cavern might stretch away in Stygian +blackness for hundreds of miles. + +Asher marveled, for the floor of this cavern dropped at least five +feet below the level of the control room or incoming hallways, forming +a natural reservoir. A reservoir for the big streams of oil that were +pouring into it from the pipe-lines. + +The rumble of the oil as it came in and splashed out in a never-ending +stream, and the rumble of the oil streams above them as the precious +fluid flowed down into the plated drain roof, sounded like the tramp +of the weary feet of the damned, as it echoed back and forth across +the mighty cavern. + +"Our storage." Lee Wong stood at the edge and explained. "Also, as you +may see, a concentration incubator, or spawning bed and food storage +for our Petrolia." + +Blaine Asher looked again at the rippling oil at his feet. He choked +brokenly and stepped back a pace. For the oil near the bank was alive! +It rippled and splashed, teeming with life. By the strange alchemy of +breeding in oil and living on oil as man lives on bread, that lake of +oil was a mass of growing Petrolia. Millions--yes, countless +billions--of them! Hideous, foul Things that would be turned loose +with the rest in that nightmare world--that would be taken to other +buried worlds to start new races. + + * * * * * + +"But why--why?" Asher almost screamed the words at Lee Wong. + +"Petrolia will be our armies, protecting our underground wealth," Lee +Wong answered him. "They will be our faithful workers, under no +command but mine. For, even Krenski has not mastered the over-control +it takes to handle them! + +"Gradually, as happened to the field we are now under, all oil fields +will go dry. We will be getting the oil from below, and putting it in +storage in mother earth. Think, Blaine Asher, what it will mean!" +There was a fanatical light in Lee Wong's beady eyes. + +"A world without petroleum is a world without power. No oil for fuel; +no gasoline, lubricants or by-products of any sort. No airplanes could +fly; tanks, tractors, oil-burning trains and ships; mechanical +appliances--nothing could run. We now take the oil from America. +Later, when our Petrolia have increased and we have devised means of +moving them, we will go to all oil-producing countries. + +"We will secrete the oil and paralyze the world. Now, in Russia and +China and India, our societies are organizing and growing. They will +handle the weakened, powerless nations, and I shall be ruler of the +universe, surface and beneath, with Krenski to aid me, you see. It it +wonderful, is it not? And, knowing what you do, having seen what you +have, could you call it impossible?" + +Blaine Asher groaned. It was not impossible, he knew. Unreal; +monstrous--but never impossible. A region of hideous Petrolia; a world +stripped of automotive and mechanical power, its fuel held in the +hands of a few, far underground--it was terrible to think of. + +And Asher the only one who knew. The only one who could avert such a +thing. The fate of an entire world was in his hands. And he would soon +die. + +Die? No! Blaine Asher swore silently to himself that no power in +existence should keep him from destroying these two fiends. It had to +be done! + +He dared not fail. + + * * * * * + +"Wonderful, stupendous thing," he forced himself to smile. "I'd like +to grasp the hand of the genius who devised and carried out such a +wonderful thing." + +He took a step toward Lee Wong, right hand extended, his left slipping +toward the pocket where his own static gun rested. + +Lee Wong extended his own right band. Something in the chill, flint +look of Asher's eyes must have warned him. Even as Asher's fingers +closed around his hand, he tried to jerk back. + +"Destroy him!" he cried out to Krenski. + +Asher dropped to one knee, letting his static gun remain in his +pocket. His left hand closed around Lee Wong's wrist as the Oriental +tried to pull away. Krenski was bringing the heavy, cylinderlike gun +up and aiming it at Asher. + +Asher twisted on one knee, his teeth gritted, braced to receive the +shock from the gun. He jerked Lee Wong's arm down, heaved and came to +his feet. Crying out, arms and legs flailing, the Chinaman catapulted +toward Krenski--and just at the instant Krenski fired! + +The sickening smell of cindered flesh was in Asher's nostrils as he +turned and ran back up the main hallway. He glanced back over his +shoulder as he ran, and shuddered at the black mass lying at Krenski's +feet. Lee Wong was no more. Wide-eyed, the Russian stared at the thing +at his feet. Then, with a fiendish shriek, turned and brought the gun +into line on the fleeing Asher. + +A crackling charge of electricity singed the back of Asher's head as +he dove head first around the corner of the hall into the control +cavern. He reasoned that Krenski had sent a full charge after him, and +hope kindled higher in his breast. For Asher believed his smaller +static weapon was as strong as that of the other. At that, it would be +a test, and Asher dared not take chances. + + * * * * * + +He crouched in the door of another hallway, waiting. Cursing, Krenski +dashed into the control cavern. Asher brought his gun up and fired. +But even as he pulled the trigger, a long tentacle reached from the +dark crevice behind him and jerked his arm. His charge snapped by the +Russian, warning the other that Asher, too, was dealing with powerful +electric rays that meant death should they touch. + +Asher yielded to the tug of the slimy, sulphur-smelling tentacle, +letting it pull him into the crevice, the charges of Krenski's weapon +crackling by him, leaving his skin dry, and a powdery sensation in his +mouth. + +In the shelter of the crevice, Asher turned his gun upon the Petrolia +that gripped him. The tentacles fell away, fading to nothingness +before the charges that showed quivery blue in the dark. Like +catacombs, one crevice opened into another. Asher darted into the next +crevice and edged cautiously toward the control cavern. + +The angry buzzing and snapping of Krenski's weapon caused him to duck +instinctively, although no deadly charges came his way. + +"Oh, God!" he heard the Russian's high-pitched voice, agonized, +wailing, "they're coming in--they're coming in!" + +A squeaking and slithering, now greater than ever, rose above all +other sounds. And Asher realized what Krenski meant. Lee Wong had said +that only he could control the Petrolia. They were swarming into the +control room now. That was what Krenski was shooting at. + +The squeaking sounds came up the crevice in which Asher was and a +cold, clammy sweat broke out all over him. He could blast a thousand +of them into nothing. But by sheer force, more body than his light +static gun could down, they would overwhelm him. + +His mind raced swiftly. He remembered the location, out in the control +room, of the cage elevator that ran to the surface. It had not been +hurt by the glycerine blast that had trapped Asher. The elevator shaft +from the control room was cased clear into the cavern floor, and the +blast had not jarred this far. + + * * * * * + +He wheeled and sent another charge of static electricity into the +crevice back of him, then lunged out into the control room. It would +be his own weapon against Krenski's, and a chance to gain the bottom +of the shaft. + +Krenski--piled, charred heaps of the Petrolia around him, which had +momentarily cleared the attack--was running across the control room. +Like a seething wave, the foul Petrolia undulated from every crevice +and hallway, coming in to fresh attack. The Russian, terror lending +him speed, raced for the cage at the foot of the shaft that led to the +surface. At the same time Asher ran out. + +Nearly a hundred feet apart, on opposite sides of the cavern, they +stopped. Krenski turned his heavy weapon toward Asher at the same time +Asher sent his own gun crackling and snapping out blue, fiery flame. + +Side-stepping, now crouching, now dodging to this side and that, they +fought their strange duel. Asher's right arm was burned, his hair +singed from his head, and his body jarred again and again as Krenski +touched him. Krenski, groaning through gritted teeth, suffered burns +all over his chest and left leg. + +As the Petrolia came on, and the lightning play of deadly electric +charges continued, Asher made a discovery. He noticed that the rays, +or charges, of the two guns, when they met in mid-air, caused blue +flame, and that the charge went no farther. + +It did it again. The two charges met, crackled to explosion in the +air. Krenski, too, noticed it, and he also noticed that the Petrolia +were almost upon them again. Coming on in a wave that could not be +hurled back. + + * * * * * + +He looked at Asher, and met the dare in Asher's eyes. Straight at each +other, neither moving, they shot their static charges. Neither would +move: it was a challenge from Asher that Krenski had to meet. One of +them would have to die before the other would be able to gain the cage +in the shaft. There could be no compromise, and only one man at a time +could go surfaceward. If they continued to dodge and fight, the +Petrolia would overwhelm them. + +Power against power, they fought it out. + +Asher's finger tightened on his trigger release until it seemed the +skin would split; then he caused his hand to tremble just enough to +make his electric charges cover the space in which Krenski's charges +traveled. Hissing, spitting, flashing explosions, giving off sounds +and light like big explosions of flash powder, the charges met. + +Asher tingled from head to foot, and thrilled to the very marvel of +the thing. Two deadly beams of electricity, holding each other off! + +In one long, continuous flash, the contact point of the charges began +to shift. Closer and closer, as the force of superior charges cleaved +through the other, the contact points neared Krenski. He saw death +upon him, for in another instant, Asher's charges would hurl his own +bolts back upon him. The smaller weapon of Blaine Asher, attracting +more static electric currents by reason of having a small attracting +battery inside, where the larger gun of the other depended upon +magnets for attraction, was triumphing. + +Krenski's mustache and light beard singed and curled. He cried out, +stepped back, throwing up his arms as death flashed through his body. + + * * * * * + +His gun playing about him, Asher raced toward the big valves and gates +that shut off the drain of the pipe-lines. Burning, reeking of sulphur +and burned leather, the Petrolia vanished before him. But, as he +turned, the drainage system that was robbing the field shut off. They +had blocked his way again! + +Too many to blast away altogether, they pressed in. Asher leaped +forward, feet kicking, left fist smashing out, static gun crackling as +if to tell him that nothing could stop them. Tentacles gripped at him, +the foul, stinking smell gagged him. But the squeaks of the Petrolia +maddened him. + +"Squeak, damn you!" Asher shouted wildly, kicking, shooting and +hitting, gaining toward the shaft. "Squeak--for all the damned Things +that ever bred below the earth cannot stop one surface man!" + +He burned and fought his way through and jumped into the cage as his +gun electrocuted two of the Petrolia that tried to weave in after him. +As he slammed the door, Asher was conscious that something was +happening. He hesitated, just long enough to see the cavern start +buckling and caving. The pressure of the oil, now shut off, was +filling back toward the surface, creating a mighty pressure downward. +The surface wells would produce man's power-fuel once more. + +Asher slammed the door, turned on the power, and the cage shot upward. + +A half hour later, those waiting on the floor of the derrick above the +hole in which Asher had gone down, started. Asher, burned, wounded, +blood streaming from his battered body, staggered in and collapsed at +their feet. + + * * * * * + +"I can't believe it! Insane! Impossible! Yet, every well in this field +has started producing again! And when we went to that old, abandoned +wildcat well, we found the shaft opening! I had it covered up, as you +ordered." + +R. Briggs Johns paced up and down the laboratory floor, talking to +Asher, who had just arisen from his bed, two weeks after he had +collapsed at their feet in the derrick. Still bandaged, he was a +different Blaine Asher. His face was lined, and the hair next to his +scalp nearly snow white. + +"I'll be able to do some walking around outside in a few days," Asher +declared as he cleaned a test tube and placed it in a rack. "I can +locate several wells over that underground storage cavern, and you can +recover that oil. But you can't mine this field. + +"Twenty years, perhaps, and you can. But it will take that long for +those Petrolia to die out. We've got to get the oil out from below to +a point where they can no longer spawn. We will apply mining in other +fields--but not here!" + +"Not here," Johns repeated, shuddering. + +"It's up to you to see no one else tries it." Asher lit a cigarette +and nodded at Johns. "Get control of the field--anything. Tell the oil +men something. But don't tell then the truth. They wouldn't believe +you. They would call you raving mad. + +"The world does not know. It would not believe. Can we do other than +remain silent?" + +R. Briggs Johns, sick of thinking of the cavern world and horrible +things below them, knew they could not. + + + + +Brigands of the Moon + +(The Book of Gregg Haljan) + +CONCLUSION OF A FOUR PART NOVEL. + +_By Ray Cummings_ + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +_The First Encounters_ + +[Illustration: Like feathers we were blown with it.] + +[Sidenote: The besieged Earth-men wage grim, ultra-scientific war with +Martian bandits in a last great struggle for their radium-ore--and +their lives.] + + +It seemed, with that first shot from the enemy, that a great relief +came to me--an apprehension fallen away. We had anticipated this +moment for so long, dreaded it. I think all our men felt it. A shout +went up: + +"Harmless!" + +It was not that. But our building withstood it better than I had +feared. It was a flash from a large electronic projector mounted on +the deck of the brigand ship. It stabbed up from the shadows across +the valley at the foot of the opposite crater-wall, a beam of vaguely +fluorescent light. Simultaneously the search-light vanished. + +The stream of electrons caught the front face of our main building in +a six-foot circle. It held a few seconds, vanished; then stabbed +again, and still again. Three bolts. A total, I suppose, of nine or +ten seconds. + +I was standing with Grantline at a front window. We had rigged an +oblong of insulated fabric like a curtain: we stood peering, holding +the curtain cautiously aside. The ray struck some twenty feet away +from us. + +"Harmless!" + +The men in the room shouted it with derision. But Grantline swung on +them. + +"Don't think that!" + +An interior signal-panel was beside Grantline. He called the duty-men +in the instrument room. + +"It's over. What are your readings?" + + * * * * * + +The bombarding electrons had passed through the outer shell of the +building's double-wall, and been absorbed in the rarefied, magnetized +air-current of the Erentz circulation. Like poison in a man's veins, +reaching his heart, the free alien electrons had disturbed the motors. +They accelerated, then retarded. Pulsed unevenly, and drew added power +from the reserve tanks. But they had normalized at once when the shot +was past. The duty-man's voice sounded from the grid in answer to +Grantline's question: + +"Five degrees colder in your building. Can't you feel it?" + +The disturbed, weakened Erentz circulation had allowed the outer cold +to radiate through a trifle. The walls had had a trifle extra +explosive pressure from the room-air. A strain--but that was all. + +"It's probably their most powerful single weapon, Gregg." Grantline +said. + +I nodded. "Yes. I think so." + +I had smashed the real giant, with its ten-mile range. The ship was +only two miles from us, but it seemed as though this projector were +exerted to its distance limit. I had noticed on the deck only one of +this type. The others, paralyzing-rays and heat rays, were less +deadly. + +Grantline commented: "We can withstand a lot of that bombardment. If +we stay inside--" + +That ray, striking a man outside, would penetrate his Erentz suit +within a few seconds, we could not doubt. We had, however, no +intention of going out unless for dire necessity. + +"Even so," said Grantline. "A hand-shield would hold it off for a +certain length of time." + + * * * * * + +We had an opportunity a moment later to test our insulated shields. +The bolt came again. It darted along the front face of the building, +caught our window and clung. The double window-shells were our weakest +points. The sheet of flashing Erentz current was transparent: we could +see through it as though it were glass. It moved faster, but was +thinner at the windows than in the walls. We feared the bombarding +electrons might cross it, penetrate the inner shell and, like a +lightning bolt, enter the room. + +We dropped the curtain corner. The radiance of the bolt was dimly +visible. A few seconds, then it vanished again, and behind the shield +we had not felt a tingle. + +"Harmless!" + +But our power had been drained nearly an aeron, to neutralize the +shock to the Erentz current. Grantline said: + +"If they kept that up, it would be a question of whose power supply +would last longest. And it would not be ours.... You saw our lights +fade down while the bolt was striking?" + +But the brigands did not know we were short of power. And to fire the +projector with a continuous bolt would, in thirty minutes, perhaps, +have exhausted their own power-reserve. + +This strange warfare! It was new to all of us, for there had been no +wars on any of the three inhabited worlds for many years. Silent, +electronic conflict! Not a question of men in battle. A man at a +switch on the brigand ship was the sole actor so far in this assault. +And the results were visible only in the movement of the needle-dials +on our instrument panels. A struggle, so far, not of man's bravery, or +skill, or strategy, but merely of electronic power supply. + + * * * * * + +Yet warfare, however modern, can never transcend the human element. +Before this insult was ended I was to have many demonstrations of +that! + +"I won't answer them," Grantline declared. "Our game is to sit +defensive. Conserve everything. Let them make the leading moves." + +We waited half an hour, but no other shot came. The valley floor was +patched with Earthlight and shadow. We could see the vague outline of +the brigand ship backed up at the foot of the opposite crater-wall. +The form of its dome over the illumined deck was visible, and the line +of its tiny hull ovals. + +On the rocks near the ship, helmet-lights of prowling brigands +occasionally showed. + +Whatever activity was going on down there we could not see with the +naked eye. Grantline did not use our telescope at first. To connect +it, even for local range, drew on our precious ammunition of power. +Some of the men urged that we search the sky with the telescope. Was +our rescue ship from Earth coming? But Grantline refused. We were in +no trouble yet. And every delay was to our advantage. + +"Commander, where shall I put these helmets?" + +A man came wheeling a pile of helmets on a little truck. + +"At the manual porte--other building." + +Our weapons and outside equipment were massed at the main exit-locks +of the large building. But we might want to sally out through the +smaller locks also. Grantline sent helmets there; suits were not +needed, as most of us were garbed in them now, but without the +helmets. + + * * * * * + +Snap was still in the workshop. I went there during this first +half-hour of the attack. Ten of our men were busy there with the +little flying platforms and the fabric shields. + +"How is it, Snap?" + +"Almost all ready." + +He had six of the platforms, including the one we had already used, +and more than a dozen hand-shields. At a squeeze, all of us could ride +on these six little vehicles. We might have to ride them! We planned +that, in the event of disaster to the buildings, we could at least +escape in this fashion. Food supplies and water were now being placed +at the portes. + +Depressing preparations! Our buildings uninhabitable, a rush out and +away, abandoning the treasure.... Grantline had never mentioned such a +contingency, but I noticed, nevertheless, that preparations were being +made. + +"Only that one shot, Gregg?" + +Snap's voice was raised over the clang of the workmen bolting the +little gravity-plates of the last platform. + +"Four blasts. But just the one projector. Their strongest." + +He grinned. He wore no Erentz suit as yet. He stood in torn grimy +work-trousers and a bedraggled shirt, with the inevitable red eyeshade +holding back his unruly hair. Around his waist was the weighted belt +and there were weights on his shoes for gravity stability. + +"Didn't hurt us much." + +"No." + +"When I get the tube-panels in this thing I'll be finished. It'll take +another half-hour. I'll join you. Where are you stationed?" + + * * * * * + +I shrugged. "I was at a front window with Johnny. Nothing to do as +yet." + +Snap went back to his work. "Well, the longer they delay, the better +for us. If only your signal got through, Gregg! We'll have a rescue +ship here in a few hours more." + +Ah, that "if!" + +I turned away. "Can't help you, Snap?" + +"No. Take those shields," he added to one of the men. + +"Take them where?" + +"To Grantline. The front admission porte, or the back. He'll tell you +which." + +The shields were wheeled away on a little cart. I followed it. +Grantline sent it to the back exit. + +"No other move from them yet, Johnny?" + +"No. All quiet." + +"Snap's almost finished." + +The brigands presently made another play. A giant heat-ray beam came +across the valley. It clung to our front wall for nearly a minute. + +Grantline got the reports from the instrument room. He laughed. + +"That helped rather than hurt us. Heated the outer wall. Frank took +advantage of it and eased up the motors." + +We wondered if Miko knew that. Doubtless he did, for another interval +passed and the heat-ray was not used again. + + * * * * * + +Then came a zed-ray. I stood at the window, watching it, faint sheen +of beam in the dimness. It crept with sinister deliberation along our +front building-wall, clung momentarily to our shielded windows and +pried with its revealing glow into Snap's workshop. + +"Looking us over," Grantline commented. "I hope they like what they +see." + +I knew he did not feel the bravado that was in his tone. We had +nothing but small hand weapons: heat-rays, electronic projectors, and +bullet projectors. All for very short-range fighting. If Miko had not +known that before, he could at least make a good guess at it after the +careful zed-ray inspection. With his ship down there two miles away, +we were powerless to reach him. + +It seemed that Miko was now testing the use of all his mechanisms. A +light-flare went up from the dome-peak of the ship. It rose in a slow +arc over the valley, and burst. For a few seconds the two-mile circle +of crags was brilliantly illumined. I stared, but I had to shield my +eyes against the dazzling actinic glare, and I could see nothing. Was +Miko making a zed-ray photograph of our interiors? We had no way of +knowing. + +He was testing his short-range projectors now. With my eyes again +accustomed to the normal Earthlight in the valley, I could see the +stabs of little electronic beams, the Martian paralyzing-rays and +heat-beams. They darted out like flashing swords from the rocks near +the ship. + +Then the whole ship and the crater-wall behind it seemed to shift +sidewise as a Benson curve-light spread its glow about the ship, with +a projector curve-beam coming up and touching the window through which +I was peering. + +"Haljan, come look at these damn girls! Commander--shall I stop them? +They'll kill themselves, or kill us--or smash something!" + + * * * * * + +We followed the man into the building's broad central corridor. Anita +and Venza were riding a midget flying platform! Anita, in her boyish +black garb; Venza with a flowing white Venus-robe. They lay on the +tiny, six-foot oblong of metal, one manipulating its side shields, the +other at the controls. As we arrived, the platform came sliding down +the narrow confines of the corridor, lurching, barely missing a +door-grid projection. Up to skim the low vaulted ceiling, then down to +the floor. + +It sailed past our heads, rising over us as we ducked. Anita waved her +hand. + +Grantline gasped, "By the infernal!" + +I shouted, "Anita, stop!" + +But they only waved at us, skimming down the length of the corridor, +seeming to avoid a smash a dozen times by the smallest margin of +chance, stopping miraculously at the further end, hanging poised in +mid-air, wheeling, coming back, undulating up and down. + +Grantline clung to me. "By the gods of the airways!" + +In spite of my astonished horror I could not but share Grantline's +obvious admiration. Three of four other men were watching. The girls +were amazingly skillful, no doubt of that. There was not a man among +us who could have handled that gravity-platform indoors, not one who +would have had the brash temerity to try it. + +The platform landed with the grace of a humming bird at our feet, the +girls dexterously balancing so that it came to rest swiftly, without +the least bump. + +I confronted them. "Anita, what are you doing?" + +She stood up, flushed and smiling. + +"Practising." + +Imperturbable girls! The product of their age. Oblivious to the +brigand attack, they were in here practising! + +"What for?" I demanded. + +Venza's roguish eyes twinkled at me. Her hands went to her slim hips +with a gesture of defiance. + +She asked, "Are you speaking for yourself or the commander?" + + * * * * * + +I ignored her. "What for?" I reiterated. + +"Because we're good at it," Anita retorted. "Better than any of you +men. If you should need us...." + +"We don't. We won't." I said shortly. + +"But if you should...." + +Venza put in, "If Snap and I hadn't come for you, you wouldn't be +here, Gregg Haljan. I didn't notice you were so horrified to see me +holding that shield up over you!" + +It silenced me. + +She added, "Commander, let us alone. We won't smash anything." + +Grantline laughed, "I hope you won't!" + +A warning call took us back to the front window. The brigand's +search-beam was again being used. It swept slowly along the length of +the cliff. Its circle went down the cliff steps to the valley floor, +and came sweeping up again. Then it went up to the observatory +platform at the summit above us, then back and crept over to the +ore-sheds. + +We had no men outside, if that was what the brigand wanted to +determine. The search-beam presently vanished. It was replaced +immediately by a zed-ray, which darted at once to our treasure sheds +and clung. + +That stung Grantline into his first action. We flung our own zed-ray +down across the valley. It reached the brigand ship; this zed-ray and +a search-light were our only two projectors of long range. + +The brigand ray vanished when ours flashed on. I was with Grantline at +an image grid in the instrument room. We saw the deck of the brigand +ship and the blurred interior of the cabins. + +"Try the search-beam, Franck. We don't need the other." + +The zed-ray went off. We gazed down our search-light which clung to +the dome of the distant enemy vessel. We could see movement there. + +"The telescope," Grantline ordered. + + * * * * * + +The little dynamos hummed. The telescope-finder glowed and clarified. +On the deck of the ship we saw the brigands working with the +assembling of ore-carts. A deck landing-porte was open. The ore-carts +were being carried out through a porte-lock and down a landing +incline. And on the rocks outside, we saw several of the carts--and +rail-sections and the sections of an ore-shute. + +Miko was unloading his mining apparatus! He was making ready to come +up for the treasure! + +The discovery, startling as it was, nevertheless was far overshadowed +by an imperative danger alarm from our main building. Brigands were +outside on our ledge! Miko's search-beam, sweeping the ledge a moment +before, had carefully avoided revealing them. It had been done just +for that purpose, no doubt--making us sure that the ledge was +unoccupied and thus to guard against our own light making a search. + +But there was a brigand group here close outside our walls! By the +merest chance the radiating glow from our search-ray had shown the +helmeted figures scurrying for shelter. + +Grantline leaped to his feet. + +We rushed for the rear exit-porte which was nearest us. The giant +bloated figures had been seen running along the outside of the +connecting corridor, in this direction. But before we ever got there, +a new alarm came. A brigand was crouching at a front corner of the +main building! His hydrogen heat-torch had already opened a rift in +the wall! + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +_Desperate Offensive_ + +"In with you!" ordered Grantline. "Get your helmets on! How many? Six? +Enough--get back there, Williams--you were last. The lock won't hold +any more." + +I was one of the six who jammed into the manual exit lock. We went +through it: in a moment we were outside. It was less than three +minutes since the prowling brigands had been seen. + +Grantline touched me just as we emerged. "Don't wait for orders! Get +them!" + +"That fellow with the torch, the most dangerous--" + +"Yes! I'm with you." + +We went out with a rush. We had already discarded our shoe and belt +weights. I leaped, regardless of my companions. + +The scurrying Martians had disappeared. Through my visor bull's-eye I +could see only the Earthlit rocky surface of the ledge. Beside me +stretched the dark wall of our building. + +I bounded toward the front. The brigand with the torch had been at +this front corner. I could not see him from here: he had been +crouching just around the angle. + +I had a tiny bullet projector, the best weapon for short range +outdoors. I was aware of Grantline close behind me. + +It took only a few of my giant leaps. I landed at the corner, +recovered my balance, and whirled around to the front. + +The Martian was here, a giant misshapen lump as he crouched. His torch +was a little stab of blue in the deep shadow enveloping him. Intent +upon his work, he did not see me. Perhaps he thought his fellows had +broken our exits by now. + + * * * * * + +I landed like a leopard upon his back and fired, my weapon muzzle +ramming him. His torch fell hissing with a silent rain of blue fire +upon the rocks. + +As my grip upon him made audiphone contact, his agonized scream +rattled the diaphragms of my ear-grids with horrible, deafening +intensity. + +He lay writhing under me, then was still. His scream choked into +silence. His suit deflated within my encircling grip. He was dead; my +leaden, steel-tipped pellet had punctured the double surface of his +Erentz-fabric, penetrated his chest. + +Grantline's following leap landed him over me. + +"Dead?" + +"Yes." + +I climbed from the inert body. The torch had hissed itself out. +Grantline swung on our building corner, and I leaned down with him to +examine it. The torch had fused and scarred the surface of the wall, +burned almost through. A pressure-rift had opened. We could see it, a +curving gash in the metal wall-plate like a crack in a glass +window-pane. + +I went cold. This was serious damage! The rarefied Erentz-air would +seep out. It was leaking now: we could see the magnetic radiance of it +all up the length of the ten-foot crack. The leak would change the +pressure of the Erentz system, constantly lower it, demanding steady +renewal. The Erentz motors would overheat; some might go bad from the +strain. + +Grantline stood gripping me. + +"Damn bad!" + +"Yes. Can't we repair it, Johnny?" + +"No. Have to take that whole plate-section out, shut off the Erentz +plant and exhaust the interior air of all this bulkhead of the +building. Day's job--maybe more." + + * * * * * + +And the crack would get worse, I knew. It would gradually spread and +widen. The Erentz circulation would fail. All our power would be +drained struggling to maintain it. This brigand who had unwittingly +committed suicide by his daring act had accomplished more than he +perhaps had realized. I could envisage our weapons, useless from lack +of power. The air in our buildings turning fetid and frigid: ourselves +forced to the helmets. A rush out to abandon the camp and escape. The +buildings exploding--scattering into a litter on the ledge like a +child's broken toy. The treasure abandoned, with the brigands coming +up and loading it on their ship. + +Our defeat. In a few hours now--or minutes. This crack could slowly +widen, or it could break suddenly at any time. Disaster, come now so +abruptly upon us at the very start of the brigand attack.... + +Grantline's voice in my audiphone broke my despairing rush of +thoughts. "Bad. Come on, Gregg; nothing to do here." + +We were aware that our other four men had run along the building's +other side. They emerged now--with the running brigands in front of +them, rushing out toward the staircase on the ledge. Three giant +Martian figures in flight, with our four men chasing. + +A bullet projector spat, with its queer stab of exploding powder fed +by the burning oxygen fumes of its artificial air-chamber--one of our +men firing. A brigand fell to the rocks by the brink of the ledge. The +others reached the descending staircase, tumbled down it with reckless +leaps. + +Our men turned back. Before we could join them, the enemy ship down in +the valley sent up a cautious search-beam which located its returning +men. Then the beam swung up to the ledge, landed upon us. + +We stood confused, blinded by the brilliant glare. Grantline stumbled +against me. + +"Run, Gregg! They'll be firing at us." + +We dashed away. Our companions joined us, rushing back for the porte. +I saw it open, reinforcements coming out to help us--half a dozen +figures carrying a ten-foot insulated shield. They could barely get it +out through the porte. + + * * * * * + +The Martian search-ray abruptly vanished. Then almost instantly the +electronic ray came with its deadly stab. Missed us at first, as we +ran for the shield. It vanished, and stabbed again. It caught us, but +now we were behind the shield, carrying it back to the porte, hiding +behind it. + +The ray stabbed once or twice more. + +Whether Miko's instruments showed him how serious that damage was to +our front wall, we never knew. But I think that he realized. His +search-beam clung to it, and his zed-ray pried into our interiors. + +The brigand ship was active now. We were desperate: we used our +telescope freely for observation. And used our zed-ray and +search-light. Miko's ore-carts and mining apparatus were unloaded on +the rocks. The rail-sections were being carried a mile out, nearly to +the center of the valley. A subsidiary camp was being established +there, only a mile from the base of our cliff, but still far beyond +reach of our weapons. We could see the brigand lights down there. + +Then the ore-shute sections were brought over. We could see Miko's men +carrying some of the giant projectors, mounting them in the new +position. Power tanks and cables. Light-flare catapults--little +mechanical cannons for throwing the bombs. + +The enemy search-light constantly raked our vicinity. Occasionally the +giant electronic projector flung up its bolt as though warning us not +to dare leave our buildings. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour went by. Our situation was even worse than Miko could +know. The Erentz motors were running hot--our power draining, the +crack widening. When it would break we could not tell; but the danger +was like a sword over us. + +An anxious thirty minutes for us, this second interlude. Grantline +called a meeting of all our little force, with every man having his +say. Inactivity was no longer a feasible policy. We recklessly used +our power to search the sky. Our rescue ship might be up there; but we +could not see it with our disabled instruments. No signals came. We +could not--or, at least, did not--receive them. + +"They wouldn't signal," Grantline protested. "They'd know the Martians +would be more likely to get the signal than us. Of what use to warn +Miko?" + +But he did not dare wait for a rescue ship that might or might not be +coming! Miko was playing the waiting game now--making ready for a +quick loading of the ore when we were forced to abandon our buildings. + +The brigand ship suddenly moved its position! It rose up in a low flat +arc, came forward and settled in the center of the valley where the +carts and rail-sections were piled, and the outside projectors newly +mounted on the rocks. But the projectors only shot at us occasionally. + +The brigands now began laying the rails from the ship toward the base +of our cliff. The chute would bring the ore down from the ledge, and +the carts would take it to the ship. + +The laying of the rails was done under cover of occasional stabs from +the electronic projector. + +And then we discovered that Miko had made still another move. The +brigand rays, fired from the depths of the valley, could strike our +front building, but could not reach all our ledge. And from the ship's +new and nearer position this disadvantage was intensified. Then +abruptly we realized that under cover of darkness-bombs an electronic +projector and search-ray had been carried to the top of the +crater-rim, diagonally across and only half a mile from us. Their +beams shot down, raking all our vicinity from this new angle. + + * * * * * + +I was on the little flying platform which sallied out as a test to +attack these isolated projectors. Snap and I and one other volunteer +went. He and I held the shield; Snap handled the controls. + +Our exit-porte was on the lee side of the building from the hostile +search-beam. We got out unobserved and sailed upward; but soon a light +from the ship caught us. And the projector bolts came up.... + +Our sortie only lasted a few minutes. To me, it was a confusion of +crossing beams, with the stars overhead, the swaying little platform +under me, and the shield tingling in my hands when the blasts struck +us. Moments of blurred terror.... + +The voice of the man beside me sounded in my ears: "Now, Haljan, give +them one!" + +We were up over the peak of the rim with the hostile projectors under +us. I gauged our movement, and dropped an explosive powder bomb. + +It missed. It flared with a puff on the rocks, twenty feet from where +the two projectors were mounted. I saw that two helmeted figures were +down there. They tried to swing their grids upward, but could not get +them vertical to reach us. The ship was firing at us, but it was far +away. And Grantline's search-beam was going full-power, clinging to +the ship to dazzle them. + +Snap circled us. As we came back I dropped another bomb. Its silent +puff seemed littered with flying fragments of the two projectors and +the bodies of the men. + +We flew swiftly back and got in. + + * * * * * + +It decided Grantline. For an hour past Snap and I had been urging our +plan to use the gravity platforms. To remain inactive was sure defeat +now. Even if our buildings did not explode--if we thought to huddle in +them, helmeted in the failing air--then Miko could readily ignore us +and proceed with his loading of the treasure under our helpless gaze. +He could do that now with safety--if we refused to sally out--for we +could not fire our weapons through our windows.[1] + +[Footnote 1: To fire a projector through the walls or windows would at +once wreck the protective Erentz system. The enemy ship has pressure +portes, constructed for the emission of the weapon-rays. Grantline's +only weapons thus mounted were his search-beam and zed-ray.] + +To remain defensive would end inevitably in our defeat. We all knew it +now; it was obvious. The waiting game was Miko's--not ours! And he was +playing it. + +The success of our attack upon the distant isolated projectors +heartened us. Yet it was a desperate offensive indeed upon which we +now decided! + +We prepared our little expedition at the larger of the exit portes. +Miko's zed-ray was watching all our interior movements. We made a +brave show of activity in our workshop with abandoned ore-carts which +were stored there. We got them out, started to recondition them. + +It seemed to fool Miko. His zed-ray clung to the workshop, watching +us. And at the distant porte we gathered the little platforms, the +shields, helmets, bombs, and a few hand-projectors. + +There were six platforms--three of us upon each. It left four people +to remain indoors. + + * * * * * + +I need not describe the emotion with which Snap and I listened to +Venza and Anita pleading to be allowed to accompany us. They urged it +upon Grantline, and we took no part. It was too important a decision. +The treasure--the life or death of all these men--hung now upon the +fate of our venture. Snap and I could not intrude our personal +feelings. + +And the girls won. Both were undeniably more skilful at handling the +midget platforms than any of us men. Two of the six platforms could be +guided by them. That was a third of our little force! And of what use +to go out and be defeated, leaving the girls here to meet death almost +immediately afterward? + +We gathered at the porte. A last minute change made Grantline order +six of his men to remain guarding the buildings. The instruments--the +Erentz system--all the appliances had to be attended. + +It left four platforms, each with three men, with Grantline at the +controls of one of them. And upon the other two of the six Venza rode +with Snap, and I with Anita. + +We crouched in the shadows outside the porte. So small an army, +sallying out to bomb this enemy vessel or be killed in the attempt! +Only sixteen of us. And thirty or so brigands. + +I envisaged then this tiny Moon-crater, the scene of this battle we +were waging. Struggling humans, desperately trying to kill. Alone here +on this globe. Around us, the wide reaches of Lunar desolation. In all +this world, every human being was gathered here, struggling to kill! + +Anita drew me down to the platform. "Ready, Gregg." + +The others were rising. We lifted, moved slowly out and away from the +protective shadows of the building. + +In a tiny queue the six little platforms sailed out over the valley +toward the brigand ship. + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +_The Battle in the Crater_ + +Grantline led us. We held about level. Five hundred feet beneath us +the brigand ship lay, cradled on the rocks. When it was still a mile +away from us I could see all its outline fairly clearly in the +dimness. Its tiny hull-windows were now dark; but the blurred shape of +the hull was visible and above it the rounded cap of dome, with a dim +radiance beneath it. + +We followed Grantline's platform. It was rising, drawing the others +after it like a tail. I touched Anita where she lay beside me with her +head half in the small hooded control-bank. + +"Going too high." + +She nodded, but followed the line nevertheless. It was Grantline's +command. + +I lay crouched, holding the inner tips of the flexible side-shields. +The bottom of the platform was covered with the insulated fabric. +There were two side-shields. They extended upward some two feet, +flexible so that I could hold them out to see over them, or draw them +up and in to cover us. + +They afforded a measure of protection against the hostile rays, though +just how much we were not sure. With the platform level, a bolt from +beneath could not harm us unless it continued for a considerable time. +But the platform, except upon direct flight, was seldom level, for it +was a frail, unstable little vehicle! To handle it was more than a +question of the controls. We balanced, and helped to guide it, with +the movement of our bodies--shifting our weight sidewise, or back, or +forward to make it dip as the controls altered the gravity-pull in its +tiny plate-sections. + +Like a bird, wheeling, soaring, swooping. To me, it was a precarious +business. + + * * * * * + +But now we were in straight flight diagonally upward. The outline of +the brigand ship came under us. I crouched tense, breathless; every +moment it seemed that the brigands must discover us and loose their +bolts. + +They may have seen us for some moments before they fired. I peered +over the side-shield down at our mark, then up ahead to get +Grantline's firing signal. It seemed long delayed. We were almost over +the ship. An added glow down there must have warned Grantline that a +shot was coming. The tiny red light flared bright on his platform. + +I hissed on our Benson curve-light radiance. We had been dark, but a +soft glow now enveloped us. Its sheen went down to the ship to reveal +us. But its curving path showed us falsely placed. I saw the little +line of platforms ahead of us seem to move suddenly sidewise. + +It was everyone for himself now; none of us could tell where the other +platforms actually were placed or headed. Anita swooped us sharply +down to avoid a possible collision. + +"Gregg--?" + +"Yes. I'm aiming." + +I was making ready to drop the little explosive globe-bomb. Our +search-light ray at the camp, answering Grantline's signal, shot down +and bathed the ship in a white glare, revealing it for our aim. +Simultaneously the brigand bolts came up at us. + +I held my bomb out over the shield, calculating the angle to throw it +down. The brigand rays flashed around me. They were horribly close; +Miko had understood our sudden visible shift and aimed, not where we +appeared to be, but where we had been a moment before. + + * * * * * + +I dropped my bomb hastily at the glowing white ship. The touch of a +hostile ray would have exploded it in my hand. I could see its +blue-sizzling fuse as it fell. I saw the others also dropping from our +nearby platforms. The explosions from them merged in a confusion of +the white glare--and a cloud of black light-mist as the brigands out +on the rocks used their occulting darkness bombs. + +We swept past in a blur of leaping hostile beams. Silent battle of +lights! Darkness bombs down at the ship struggling to bar our camp +search-ray. The Benson radiance-rays from our passing platforms +curving down to mingle with the confusion. The electronic rays sending +up their bolts.... + +Our platforms dropped some ten dynamitrine bombs in that first +passage over the ship. As we sped by, I dimmed the Benson's radiance. +I peered. We had not hit the ship. Or if we had, the damage was +inconclusive. But on the rocks I could see a pile of ore-carts +scattered--broken wreckage, in which the litter of two or three +projectors seemed strewn. And the gruesome deflated forms of several +helmeted figures. Others seemed, to be running, scattering--hiding in +the rocks and pit-holes. Twenty brigands at least were outside the +ship. Some were running over toward the base of our camp-ledge. The +darkness bombs were spreading like a curtain over the valley floor; +but it seemed that some of the figures were dragging their projectors +away. + +We sailed off toward the opposite crater-rim. I remember passing over +the broken wreckage of Grantline's little space-ship, the _Comet_. +Miko's bolts momentarily had vanished. We had hit some of his outside +projectors; the others were abandoned, or being dragged to safer +positions. + + * * * * * + +After a mile we wheeled and went back. I suddenly realized that only +four platforms were in the re-formed line ahead of us. One was +missing! I saw it now, wavering down, close over the ship. A bolt +leaped up diagonally from a distant angle on the rocks and caught the +disabled platform. It fell, whirling, glowing red--disappeared into +the blur of darkness like a bit of heated metal plunged into water. + +One out of six of our platforms already lost! Three men of our little +force gone! + +But Grantline led us desperately back. Anita caught his signal to +break our line. The five platforms scattered, dipping and wheeling +like frightened birds--blurring shapes, shifting unnaturally in flight +as the Benson curve-angles were altered. + +Anita now took our platform in a long swoop downward. Her tense, +murmured voice sounded in my ears: + +"Hold off: I'll take us low." + +A melee. Passing platform shapes. The darting bolts, crossing like +ancient rapiers. Falling blue points of fuse-lights as we threw our +bombs. + +Down in a swoop. Then rising. Away, and then back. This silent warfare +of lights! It seemed that around me must be bursting a pandemonium of +sound. Yet I heard nothing. Silent, blurred melee, infinitely +frightening. A bolt struck us, clung for an instant; but we weathered +it. The light was blinding. Through my gloves I could feel the tingle +of the over-charged shield as it caught and absorbed the hostile +bombardment. Under me the platform seemed heated. My little Erentz +motors ran with ragged pulse. I got too much oxygen; my head roared +with it. Spots danced before my closed eyes. Then not enough oxygen. I +was dully smothering.... + +Then the bolt was gone. I found us soaring upward, horribly tilted. I +shifted over. + +"Anita! Anita, dear!" + +"Yes. Gregg. All right." + + * * * * * + +The melee went on. The brigand ship and all its vicinity was enveloped +in darkness-mist now--a turgid sable curtain, made more dense by the +dissipating heavy fumes of our exploding bombs which settled low over +the ship and the rocks nearby. The search-light from our camp strove +futilely to penetrate the cloud. + +Our platforms were separated. One went by high over us; I saw another +dart close beneath my shield. + +"God, Anita!" + +"Too close! I did not mean that--I didn't see it." + +Almost a collision. + +"Oh, Gregg, haven't we broken the ship's dome yet?" + +It seemed not. I had dropped nearly all my bombs. This could not go on +much longer. Had it been only five minutes? Only that? Reason told me +so, yet it seemed an eternity of horror. + +Another swoop. My last bomb. Anita had brought us into position to +fling it. But I could not. A bolt stabbed up from the gloom and +caught us. We huddled, pulling the shields up and over us. + +Blurred darkness again. Too much to the side now. I had to wait while +Anita swung us back. Then we seemed too high. + +We swooped. But not too low! Down in the darkness-mist we would +immediately have lost direction, and crashed. + +I waited with my last bomb. The other platforms were occasionally +dropping them: I had been too hasty, too prodigal. + +Had we broken the ship's dome with a direct hit? It seemed not. + + * * * * * + +The brigands were occasionally sending up catapulted light-flares. +They came from positions on the rocks outside the ship. They mounted +in lazy curves and burst over us. The concealing darkness, broken only +by the flares of our explosions, enveloped the enemy. Our camp +search-light was still struggling with it. But overhead, where the few +little platforms were circling and swooping, the flares gave an almost +continuous glare. It was dazzling, blinding. Even through the smoked +pane which I adjusted to my visor I could not stand it. + +But there were thoughts of comparative dimness. In a patch where the +Earthlight struck through the darkness of the rocks, I saw another of +our fallen platforms! Snap and Venza! Dear God.... + +It was not they, but three figures of our men. One was dead. Two had +survived the fall. They stood up, staggering. And in that instant, +before the turgid black curtain closed over them, I saw two brigands +come rushing. Their hand projectors stabbed at close range. Our men +crumpled and fell. + +And now I saw why probably we had never yet hit the ship. + +Its outline was revealed. "Now, Gregg--can you fling it from here?" + +We were in position again. I flung my last missile, watched its light +as it dropped. On the dome-roof two of Miko's men were crouching. My +bomb was truly aimed--perhaps one of the few in all our bombardment +which would have landed directly on the dome-roof. But the waiting +marksmen fired at it with short-range heat projectors and exploded it +harmlessly while it was still above them. + +We swung up and away. I saw, high above us, Grantline's platform, +recognizing its red signal light. There seemed a lull. The enemy fire +had died down to only a very occasional bolt. In the confusion of my +whirling impressions I wondered if Miko were in distress? Not that! We +had not hit his ship; perhaps we had done little damage indeed! It was +we who were in distress. Two of our platforms had fallen--two out of +six. Or more, of which I did not know. + + * * * * * + +I saw one rising off to the side of us. Grantline was over us. Well, +we were at least three. And then I saw the fourth. + +"Grantline is calling us up, Gregg." + +"Yes." + +Grantline's signal-light was summoning us from the attack. He was a +thousand or two thousand feet above. + +I was suddenly shocked with horror. The search-ray from our camp +abruptly vanished! Anita wheeled us to face the distant ledge. The +camp-lights showed, and over one of the buildings was a distress +light! + +Had the crack in our front wall broken, threatening explosion of all +the buildings? The wild thoughts swept me. But it was not that. I +could see light-stabs from the cliff outside the main building. Miko +had dared to send some of his men to attack our almost abandoned camp! + +Grantline realized it. His red helmet-light semaphored the command to +follow him. His platform soared away, heading for the camp, with the +other two behind him. + +Anita lifted us to follow. But I checked her. + +"No! Off to the right, across the valley." + +"But Gregg!" + +"Do as I say, Anita." + +She swung us diagonally away from both the camp and the brigand ship. +I prayed that we might not be noticed by the brigands. + +"Anita, listen: I've an idea!" + +The attack on the brigand ship was over. It lay enveloped in the +darkness of the powder-gas cloud and its own darkness bombs. But it +was uninjured. + +Miko had answered us with our own tactics. He had practically unmanned +the ship, no doubt, and had sent his men to our buildings. The fight +had shifted. But I was now without ammunition, save for two or three +small bullet projectors. + +Of what use for our platform to rush back? Miko expected that. His +attack on the camp was undoubtedly made just for that purpose. + +"Anita, if we can get down on the rocks somewhere near the ship, and +creep up on it unobserved in that blackness...." + + * * * * * + +I might be able to open its manual hull-lock, rip it open and let the +air out. If I could get into its pressure chamber and unseal the inner +slide.... + +"It would wreck the ship, Anita, exhaust all its air. Shall we try +it?" + +"Whatever you say, Gregg." + +We seemed to be unobserved. We skimmed close to the valley floor, a +mile from the ship. We headed slowly toward it, sailing low over the +rocks. + +Then we landed, left the platform. + +"Let me go first, Anita." + +I held a bullet projector. With slow, cautious leaps, we advanced. +Anita was behind me. I had wanted to leave her with the platform, but +she would not stay. And to be with me seemed at least equally safe. + +The rocks were deserted. I thought there was very little chance that +any of the enemy would lurk here. We clambered over the pitted, +scarred surface. The higher crags, etched with Earthlight, stood like +sentinels in the gloom. + +The brigand ship with its surrounding darkness was not far from us. +Then we entered the cloud. + +No one was out here. We passed the wreckage of broken projectors, and +gruesome, shattered human forms. + +We prowled closer. The hull of the ship loomed ahead of us. All dark. + +We came at last close against the sleek metal hull-side, slid along it +toward where I was sure the manual-porte was located. + +Abruptly I realized that Anita was not behind me! Then I saw her at a +little distance, struggling in the grip of a giant helmeted figure! +The brigand lifted her--turned, and, carrying her, ran the other way! + +I did not dare fire. I bounded after them along the hull-side, around +under the curve of the pointed bow, down along the other side. + +I had mistaken the hull-porte location. It was here. The running, +bounding figure reached it, slid the panel. I was only fifty feet +away--not much more than a single leap. I saw Anita being shoved into +the pressure lock. The Martian flung himself after her. + +I fired at him, but missed. I came with a rush. And as I reached the +porte it slid closed in my face, barring me! + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +_In the Pressure Lock._ + +With puny fists I pounded the panel. A small pane in it was +transparent. Within the lock I could see the blurred figures of Anita +and her captor--and, it seemed, another figure. The lock was some ten +feet square, with a low ceiling. It glowed with a dim tube-light. + +I pounded, thumped with futile, silent blows. The mechanism was here +to open this manual; but it was now clasped from within and would not +operate. + +A few seconds only, while I stood there in a panic of confusion, +raging to get in. This disaster had come so suddenly! I did not plan; +I had no thought save to batter my way in and rescue Anita. I recall +that I beat on the glassite pane with my bullet projector until the +weapon was bent and useless; and I flung it with a wild, despairing +rage at my feet. + +They were letting the ship's air-pressure into this lock. Soon they +would open the inner panel, step into the secondary chamber--and in a +moment more would be within the ship's hull corridor. Anita, lost to +me! + +The outer panel suddenly opened! I had lunged against it with my +shoulder; the giant figure inside slid it. I was taken by surprise! I +half-fell inward. + +Huge arms went around me. The goggled face of the helmet peered into +mine. + +"So it is you, Haljan! I thought I recognized that little device over +your helmet-bracket. And there is my little Anita, come back to me +again!" + +Miko! + + * * * * * + +This was he. His great bloated arms encircling me, bending me +backward, holding me almost helpless. I saw over his shoulder that +Anita was clutched in the grip of another helmeted figure. No giant, +but tall for an Earthman--almost as tall as myself. Then the +tube-light in the room illumined the visor. I saw the face, recognized +it. Moa! + +I gasped, "So--I've--got you, Miko--" + +"Got me! You're a fool to the last, Gregg Haljan! A fool to the last! +But you were always a fool." + +I could scarcely move in his grip. My arms were pinned. As he slowly +bent me backward, I wound my legs around one of his; it was as +unyielding as a steel pillar. He had closed the outer panel; the +air-pressure in the lock was rising. I could feel it against my suit. + +My helmeted head was being forced backward; Miko's left arm held me. +In his gloved right hand as it came slowly up over my throat I saw a +knife-blade, its naked, sharpened metal glistening blue-white in the +light from overhead. + +I seized his wrist. But my puny strength could not hold him. The +knife, against all my efforts, came slowly down. + +A moment of this slow deadly combat--the end of everything for me. + +I was aware of the helmeted figure of Moa casting off Anita--and then +the two girls leaping together upon Miko. It threw him off his +balance, and my hanging weight made him topple forward. He took a step +to recover himself; his hand with the knife was flung up with an +instinctive, involuntary balancing gesture. And as it came swiftly +down again, I forced the knife-blade to graze his throat. Its point +caught in the fabric of his suit. + +His startled oath jangled in my ears. The girls were clawing at him; +we were all four scrambling, swaying. With despairing strength I +twisted at his waist. The knife went into his throat. I plunged it +deeper. + + * * * * * + +His suit went flabby. He crumpled over me and fell, knocking me to the +floor. His voice, with the horrible gurgling rasp of death in it, +rattled my ear-grids. + +"Not such a fool--are you, Haljan--" + +Moa's helmeted head was close over us. I saw that she had seized the +knife, jerked it from her brother's throat. She leaped backward, +waving it. + +I twisted from under Miko's inert, lifeless body. As I got to my feet, +Anita flung herself to shield me. Moa was across the lock, backed up +against its wall. The knife in her hand went up. She stood for the +briefest instant regarding Anita and me holding each other. I thought +that she was about to leap upon us; but before I could move, the knife +came down and plunged into her breast. She fell forward, her +grotesque helmet striking the floor-grid almost at my feet. + +"Gregg!" + +"She's dead." + +"No! She moved! Get her helmet off! There's enough air here." + +My helmet pressure-indicator was faintly buzzing to show that a safe +pressure was in the room. I shut off Moa's Erentz motors, unfastened +her helmet, raised it off. We gently turned her body. She lay with +closed eyes, her pallid face blue-cast from the light in the lock. + +With our own helmets off, we knelt over her. + +"Oh. Gregg, is she dead?" + +"No. Not quite--but dying." + +"Oh Gregg, I don't want her to die! She was trying to help you there +at the last." + +She opened her eyes; the film of death was glazing them. But she saw +me, recognized me. + +"Gregg--" + +"Yes, Moa, I'm here." + + * * * * * + +Her livid lips were faintly drawn in a smile. "I'm--so glad--you took +the helmets off, Gregg. I'm--going--you know." + +"No!" + +"Going--back to Mars--to rest with the fire-makers--where I came from. +I was thinking--maybe you would kiss me, Gregg--?" + +Anita gently pushed me down. I pressed the white, faintly smiling lips +with mine. She sighed, and it ended with a rattle in her throat. + +"Thank you--Gregg--closer--I can't talk so loudly--" + +One of her gloved hands struggled to touch me, but she had no strength +and it fell back. Her words were the faintest of whispers: + +"There was no use living--without your love. But I want you to +see--now--that a Martian girl can--die with a smile--" + +Her eyelids fluttered down: it seemed that she sighed and then was not +breathing. But on her livid face the faint smile still lingered to +show me how a Martian girl could die. + +We had forgotten for the moment where we were. As I glanced up I saw +that through the inner panel, past the secondary lock, the ship's +hull-corridor was visible, and along its length a group of Martians +were advancing! They saw us, and came running. + +"Anita! Look! We've got to get out of here!" + +The secondary lock was open to the corridor. We jammed on our helmets. +The unhelmeted brigands by then were fumbling at the inner panel. I +pulled at the lever of the outer panel. The brigands were hurrying, +thinking they could be in time to stop me. One of the more cautious +fumbled with a helmet. + +"Anita, run! Try and keep your feet." + +I slid the outer panel and pushed at Anita. Simultaneously the +brigands opened the inner porte. + +The air came with a tempestuous rush. A blast through the inner +porte--through the little pressure-lock--a wild rush out to the +airless Moon. All the air in the ship madly rushing to escape.... + +Like feathers we were blown with it. I recall an impression of the +hurtling brigand figures and swift-flying rocks under me. A silent +crash as I struck. + +Then soundless, empty blackness. + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +_Triumph!_ + +"Is he conscious? We'd better take him back, get his helmet off." + +"It's over. We can get back now. Venza, dear, we've won--it's over." + +"He hears us!" + +"Gregg!" + +"He hears us--he's all right!" + +I opened my eyes. I lay on the rocks. Over my helmet other helmets +were peering, and faint, familiar voices mingled with the roaring in +my ears. + +"--back to the camp and get his helmet off." + +"Are his motors smooth? Keep them right, Snap--he must have good air." + +I seemed unhurt. But Anita.... + +She was here. "Gregg, dear one!" + +Anita safe! All four of us here on the Earthlit rocks, close outside +the brigand ship. + +"Anita!" + +She held me, lifted me. I was uninjured. I could stand; I staggered up +and stood swaying. The brigand ship, a hundred feet away, loomed dark +and silent, a lifeless bulk, already empty of air, drained in that mad +blast outward. Like the wreck of the _Planetara_--a dead, pulseless +hulk already. + +We four stood together, triumphant. The battle was over. The brigands +were worsted, almost the last man of them dead or dying. No more than +ten or fifteen had been available for that final assault upon the camp +buildings. Miko's last strategy. I think perhaps he had intended, with +his few remaining men, to take the ship and make away, deserting his +fellows. + +All on the ship, caught unhelmeted by the explosion, were dead long +since. + +I stood listening to Snap's triumphant account. It had not been +difficult for the flying platforms to hunt down the attacking brigands +on the open rocks. We had only lost one more platform. + +Human hearts beat sometimes with very selfish emotions. It was a +triumphant ending for us, and we hardly gave a thought that half of +Grantline's little group had perished. + +We huddled on Snap's platform. It rose, lurching drunkenly, barely +carrying us. + +And as we headed for the Grantline buildings, where still the rift in +the wall had not quite broken, there came the final triumph. Miko had +been aware of it, and knew he had lost. Grantline's search-light +leaped upward, swept the sky, caught its sought-for object--a huge +silver cylinder, bathed brightly in the white search-beam glare. + +The police-ship from Earth! + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +_My Exit_ + +My narrative lies now in this permanently recorded form before you, +and I prepare my exit bow with the humble hope that I may have given +you pleasure. If so, I do beg you to tell me of it. There are some who +already have flashed their approval of my discs; I thank them most +earnestly and gratefully. + +My errors of recording unquestionably are many; and for them I ask +your indulgence. There have been, I can readily see, errors of +omission. I have not mentioned, for instance, the final rescue of the +_Planetara's_ marooned passengers on the asteroid. You will bear with +me, since the disc-space has its technical limitations, that such +omissions have been unavoidable. + +Since the passage of the Earth-law by the Federated Board of +Education, forcing narrative fiction to cling so closely to sworn +facts of actual happening, I need offer no assurance of the truth of +my narrative. My witnesses have filed their corroborating +declarations. Indeed, the _Planetara's_ wreck and the brigands' attack +upon the Moon-treasure were given the widest news-casters' publicity, +as you all know. Yet I, who was unwittingly involved in those stirring +events, may have added a more personal note, making the scenes more +vivid to your imagination. I have tried to do that. I do hope that in +some measure you will think I have succeeded. + +There are many foolish girls now who say that they would like to know +Gregg Haljan. They doubtless would be very disappointed. I really +crave no more publicity. And the girls of all the Universe have no +charm for me. There is only one, for me--an Earth-girl. + +I think that life has very beautifully endowed me with its blessings. + + + + +Giants of the Ray + +_By Tom Curry_ + +[Illustration:] + +[Sidenote: Madly the three raced for their lives up the shaft of the +radium mine, for behind them poured a stream of hideous +monsters--giants of the ray!] + + +"I tell you I'm not crazy," insisted the tall man. "Durkin, they got a +big mine." + +Bill Durkin laughed roughly, and sneered openly at his partner, Frank +Maget. "G'wan, you're drunk." + +"Well, I was last night," admitted Maget. "But I'd slept it off this +morning. I was lying under that table in the Portuguee's, and when I +opened my eyes, there were these three birds sitting near me. They +hadn't spotted me. I heard 'em talking of wealth, how their mine was +of unbelievable richness and greater than any other deposit in the +world. Well, that means something, don't it?" + +"That's all right," said Durkin. "But whoever saw a cricket fifteen +inches long?" + +[Illustration: Its form was that of a gigantic frog, and from its +throat sounded the terrific bellowing which rivaled thunder.] + +"Listen. There were three of these guys. One was a hell of a looking +fellow: his face was piebald, with purple spots. His skin was bleached +and withered, and one eye looked like a pearl collar button! They +called him Professor, too, Professor Gurlone. Well, he takes out this +damn cricket thing and it was sort of reddish purple but alive, and as +long as your forearm. This professor guy says his son had taken an +ordinary cricket and made it grow into the one he had. But the mine +was what interested me. I kept my mouth shut and my ears open, and +it's in the Matto Grosso. May be emeralds, diamonds, or gold. Boy, I'm +heading for it, right now. The old guy's going back to-morrow, get +me?" + +"It's a lot of bunk," growled Durkin, who was stout and red of +countenance. + +"Yeh? Well, Otto Ulrich don't put fifty thousand into bunk." + +Durkin whistled. "You mean the German loosened up that much?" he +asked, and his eyes showed interest. + +"Sure. He paid this Gurlone fifty thousand dollars--credit, of +course." + +"Well--maybe there's something in the mine story. But boy, you were +drunk when you saw that cricket. No cricket ever grew that big. You +always see things when you get too much rum in you." + +"The hell you say," cried Maget. "I saw it, I tell you!" + + * * * * * + +Durkin feigned elaborate politeness. "Oh, all right, Frank. Have it +your own way. You saw a cricket that big and this Gurlone feller took +a couple of pink elephants out of his pocket to pay the check. Sure, I +believe you." + +But money never failed to attract the two tropical tramps. They were +looking for trouble, not work, and the idea of a raid on a rich mine +in the Matto Grosso was just what they would enjoy. + +An hour later, they had cornered a small, inoffensive peon named Juan. +Juan, Maget and Durkin had discovered, had come out of the wilderness +with Professor Gurlone, the strange looking gentleman who spoke of a +fabulously wealthy mine and commanded checks for fifty thousand +dollars from a reputable banking firm. Such a man was worth watching. + +The two rascals were expert at pumping the little half-breed. They +knew peons, and the first thing that happened was that Durkin had +slipped Juan several dollars and had pressed a large glass of whiskey +on the little man. + +The conversation was in broken English and Spanish. + +"Quien sabe?" + +Durkin and Maget had this phrase flung at them often during the course +of the talk with Juan, and there were many elaborate shrugs. + +There was a mine, way back in the Matto Grosso, said Juan. He thought +it might contain silver: there had been the shaft of an old mine +there. But now they were deep down in the ground, digging out reddish +brown ore, and the cavern smoked and smelled so badly a man could work +but an hour or two before being relieved. But the pay was very high. +Also, Juan, in his rambling way, spoke of grotesque animals. What were +these creatures like? asked Durkin. Then came a shrug, and Juan said +they were like nothing else on earth. + + * * * * * + +Durkin discounted the part of the story having to do with the strange +animals. He thought it was peon superstition. But now he was sure +there was a rich mine to be raided. + +"It's a tough part of the Grosso," he said, turning to Maget. + +"Sure. Hard to carry enough water and supplies to make it. Say, Juan, +who was that big Portuguee with Professor Gurlone? He's blind, ain't +he? His eyes were white as milk, and his face tanned black as river +mud. Surely is a great big guy, and tough looking, too." + +Durkin drummed on the table, considering the matter, while Juan spoke +of the big Portuguese. The swarthy man with the colorless blind eyes +was Espinosa, former owner of the mine. He had sold part of his claim +to the Gurlones, but had remained with them as an assistant. Though +blind, he knew the depths of the mine and could feel his way about, +and direct the peons in their labors. + +"I've got it," said Durkin, turning back to Juan and Maget. "Juan, +it's up to you. You've got to blaze the trail so we can follow you in. +And you can steal food and cache it for use on the way, see? We'll +come along a day or so after the Gurlones." + +It took some persuading to make Juan consent to their plot, but the +peon yielded at last to money and the promise of part of the spoils. +"Maybe you can steal Gurlone's samples and they'll give us a line on +what he's up to out there. Whether it's emeralds or diamonds or gold +that they're taking out of the mine." + +Juan was stupid and superstitious, like most of his fellows. He had +obeyed orders, digging out the red ore, and that was all he knew. But +prompted by the two tramps, he was ready for trouble, too. + +Juan told them that Professor Gurlone carried a small lead case which +he seemed to prize greatly. + +"Get it, then," ordered Durkin. + +The two tramps saw Gurlone's party start on the morrow. There were +many cases of supplies loaded into launches, some marked Glass, Acids, +and so on. Then there were boxes of food and various things needed in +a jungle camp. + + * * * * * + +Juan, their tool, was working with the other peons, and at ten o'clock +in the morning the launches set out, pushing into the current of the +Madeira. + +Old Gurlone, of the livid face, was in charge of one boat, and the +gigantic Portuguese, with his colorless eyes and burned complexion, +sat beside him. + +That night, the two tropical tramps stole a small boat with a +one-cylinder motor, and started up the river. + +It was a hard journey, but they were used to river and jungle work, +and the object they had in view was enough to make them discount +trouble. They speculated upon what manner of treasure it was they +would find in the cavern of the Matto Grosso mine. It might be +precious stones, it might be gold. Certainly it was something very +valuable. + +They carried little supplies, but they were heavily armed. For food, +they might hunt and also depend on the caches left by their friend, +Juan the peon. + +Three hundred miles from Manaos, they came to the landing where old +Gurlone had unloaded his boats. The two tramps drew their own craft up +on shore a quarter of a mile away, keeping out of sight, and hid the +boat in dense brush. Then they crept up the river bank, keeping out of +sight of the boatmen, who were preparing for the return voyage, and +cut into the jungle so as to strike the trail of the caravan ahead. + +For several hours they followed the path easily. They found palm trees +blazed with new marks, and these they were sure their friend Juan had +left for them. But the trail was easy to keep without these. The +supplies had been loaded on burros, which had been awaiting the +boats. + +That night, they camped beside a small stream. They were but +twenty-four hours behind Professor Gurlone and his party, and the food +Juan had cached for them was in good condition. + + * * * * * + +They were up at daybreak, and pressed on, armed to the teeth and ready +for a fight. + +"What's that?" said Durkin, stopping so suddenly that Maget ran into +him. + +They had been walking at a swift pace along the jungle path, the giant +trees forming a canopy overhead. Monkeys screamed at them, birds +flitted a hundred feet above them in the roof of the forest. + +The sun beat on the jungle top, but few rays lightened the gloom +beneath. + +From up ahead sounded a frightful scream, followed by a long drawn out +wailing. Maget glanced at Durkin, and the latter shrugged, and pressed +on. But he gripped his rifle tightly, for the cries were eery. + +From time to time the two stopped to catch better the direction of the +wails. At last, they located the spot where the injured person lay. + +It was under a great bombax tree, and on the shaded ground writhed a +man. The two stopped, horrified at the squirming figure. The man was +tearing at his face with his nails, and his countenance was bloody +with long scratches. + +He cursed and moaned in Spanish, and Durkin, approaching closer, +recognized Juan the peon. + +"Hey, Juan, what the hell's the matter? A snake bite you?" + +The bronzed face of the sturdy little peon writhed in agony. He +screamed in answer, he could not talk coherently. He mumbled, he +groaned, but they could not catch his words. + +At his side lay a small lead container, and closer, as though he had +dropped it after extracting it from its case, lay a tube some six +inches in length. It was a queer tube, for it seemed to be filled +with smoky, pallid worms of light that writhed even as Juan writhed. + +"What's the trouble?" asked Durkin gruffly, for he was alarmed at the +behavior of the peon. It seemed to both tramps that the man must have +gone mad. + + * * * * * + +They kept back from him, with ready guns. Juan shrieked, and it +sounded as though he said he was burning up, in a great fire. + +Suddenly the peon staggered to his feet; as he pushed himself up, his +hands gripped the tube, and he clawed at his face. + +Perplexity and horror were writ on the faces of the two tramps. Maget +was struck with pity for the unfortunate peon, who seemed to be +suffering the tortures of the damned. He was not a bad man, was Maget, +but rather a weakling who had a run of bad luck and was under the +thumb of Durkin, a really hard character. Durkin, while astounded at +the actions of Juan, showed no pity. + +Maget stepped forward, to try and comfort Juan; the peon struck out at +him, and whirled around. But a few yards away was the bank of the +stream, and Juan crashed into a black palm set with spines, caromed +off it, and fell face downward into the water. The glass tube was +smashed and the pieces fell into the stream. + +"God, he must be blind," groaned Maget. "Poor guy, I've got to save +him." + +"The hell with him," growled Durkin. He grasped his partner's arm and +stared curiously down at the dying peon. + +"Let go, I'll pull him out," said Maget, trying to wrench away from +Durkin. + +"He's done for. Why worry about a peon?" said Durkin. "Look at those +fish!" + +The muddy waters of the stream had parted, and dead fish were rising +about the body of Juan. But not about the dying man so much as close +to the spot where the broken tube had fallen. White bellies up, the +fish died as though by magic. + +"Let's--let's get the hell back to Manoas, Bill," said Maget in a +sickly voice. "This--this is too much for me." + + * * * * * + +A nameless fear, which had been with Maget ever since the beginning of +the venture, was growing more insistent. + +"What?" cried Durkin. "Turn back now? The hell you say! That damn peon +got into a fight with somebody and maybe got bit by a snake later. +We'll go on and get that treasure." + +"But--but what made those fish come up that way?" said Maget, his +brows creased in perplexity. + +Durkin shrugged. "What's the difference? We're O. K., ain't we?" + +In spite of the stout man's bravado, it was evident that he, too, was +disturbed at the strange happenings. He kept voicing aloud the +question in his mind; what was in the queer tube? + +But he forced Maget to go on. Without Juan, the peon, to leave them +caches of food on the trail, they would have a difficult time getting +provender, but both were trained jungle travelers and could find fruit +and shoot enough game to keep them going. + +Day after day they marched on, not far from the rear of the party +before them. They took care to keep off Gurlone's heels, for they did +not wish their presence to be discovered. + +When they had been on the journey, which led them east, for four days, +the two rascals came to a waterless plateau, which stretched before +them in dry perspective. Before they came to the end of this, they +knew what real thirst was, and their tongues were black in their +mouths before they caught the curling smoke of fires in the valley +where they knew the mine must be. + +"That's the mine," gasped Durkin, pointing to the smoke. + + * * * * * + +The sun was setting in golden splendor at their backs; they crept +forward, using great boulders and piles of reddish earth, strange to +them, for cover. Finally they reached the trail which led to the hills +overlooking the valley, and a panorama spread before them which amazed +them because of its elaborateness. + +It seemed more like a stage scene than a wilderness picture. Straight +ahead of them, as they lay flat on their stomachs and peered at the +big camp, yawned the black mouth of a large cavern. This, they were +sure, was the mine itself. Close by this mouth stood a stone hut. It +was clear that this building had something to do with the ore, perhaps +a refining plant, Durkin suggested. + +There were long barracks for the peons, inside a barbed wire +enclosure, and they could see the little men lounging now about +campfires, where frying food was being prepared. Also, there was a +long, low building with many windows in it, and houses for supplies +and for the use of the owners of the camp. + +"Looks like they were ready in case of a fight," said Durkin at last. +"That fence around the peons looks like they might be havin' trouble." + +"Some camp," breathed Maget. + +"We got to find somethin' to drink," said Durkin. "Come on." + +They worked their way about the rim of the valley, and in doing so +caught glimpses of Professor Gurlone, the elderly man they had spotted +in Manaos, and also saw the big Portuguese with his sightless eyes. + +At the other side of the valley, they came on a spring which flowed to +the east and disappeared under ground farther down. + +"Funny water, ain't it?" said Durkin, lying down on his stomach to +suck up the milky water. + +But they were not in any mood to be particular about the fluids they +drank. The long dry march across the arid lands separating the camp +from the rest of the world had taken all moisture from their throats. + + * * * * * + +Maget, drinking beside his partner, saw that the water glinted and +sparkled, though the sun was below the opposite rim of the valley. It +seemed that greenish, silvery specks danced in the milky fluid. + +"Boy, that's good," Durkin finally found time to say, "I feel like I +could fight a wildcat." + +The water did, indeed, impart a feeling of exhilaration to the two +tramps. They crept up close to the roof of the parallel shaft which +they had seen from the other side of the valley, and looked down into +the camp again. + +Professor Gurlone of the livid face and Espinosa the blind Portuguese, +were talking to a big man whose golden beard shone in the last rays of +the sun. + +"That's the old bird's son," said Durkin, "that Juan told us about. +Young Gurlone." + +A rumbling, pleasant laugh floated on the breeze, issuing from the big +youth's throat. The wind was their way, now, and the valley breathed +forth an unpleasant odor of chemicals and tainted meat. + +"Funny place," said Maget. "Say, I got a hell of a headache, Bill." + +"So've I," grunted Durkin. "Maybe that water ain't as good as it +seemed at first." + + * * * * * + +They lay in a small hollow, watching the activity of the camp. The +peons were in their pen, and it was evident that they were being +watched by the owners of the camp. + +As purple twilight fell across the strange land, the two tramps began +to notice the dull sounds which came to their ears from time to time. + +"That's funny thunder," said Maget nervously. "If I didn't know it was +thunder, I'd swear some big frogs were around here." + +"Oh, hell. Maybe it's an earthquake," said Durkin irritatedly. "For +God's sake, quit your bellyachin'. You've done nothin' but whine ever +since we left Juan." + +"Well, who could blame me--" began Maget. He broke off suddenly, the +pique in his voice turned to a quiver of fear, as he grasped Durkin's +arm. "Oh, look," he gasped. + +Durkin, seeing his partner's eyes staring at a point directly behind +him, leaped up and scrambled away, thinking that a snake must be about +to strike him. + +He turned round when he felt he was far enough away, and saw that the +ground was moving near the spot where he had been lying. + +The earth was heaving, as though ploughed by a giant share; a blunt, +purplish head, which seemed too fearful to be really alive, showed +through the broken ground, and a worm began to draw its purple length +from the depths. It was no snake, but a gigantic angleworm, and as it +came forth, foot after foot, the two watched with glazed eyes. + +Maget swallowed. "I've seen 'em two feet long," he said. "But never +like that." + +Durkin, however, when he realized that the loathsome creature could +not see them and was creeping blindly towards them with its ugly, fat +body creasing and elongating, picked up rocks and began to destroy the +monstrous worm. He cursed as he worked. + +Dull red blood spattered them, and a fetid odor from the gashes caused +them to retch, but they finally cut the thing in two, and then they +moved away from there. + + * * * * * + +The dull rumblings beneath them frightened Maget, and Durkin too, +though the latter tried to brazen it out. + +"Come on, it's gettin' dark. We can take a look in their mine now." + +Maget, whimpering, followed. The booming sounds were increasing. + +But Durkin slipped down the hillside, and Maget followed into the +valley. They crept past the stone shack, which they noticed was +padlocked heavily. + +Durkin stopped suddenly, and cursed. "I've cut my foot," he said. +"These damn shoes are gone, all right, from that march. But come on, +never mind." + +They crept to the mouth of the cavern and peered in. "Ugh," said +Maget. + +He drew back with a shudder. The floor of the mine was covered with a +grey slush, in which were seething white masses of slugs weaving in +the slime. A powerful, rotten odor breathed in their faces, as though +they stood in the mouth of a great giant. + +"Ah!" yelled Durkin, throwing his arms across his face. + +The greenish, ghostly light which emanated from the slime was weaker +than moonlight, just enough to see by; a vast shadow hovered above +their heads, as though a gigantic bat flew there. The sweep and beat +of great wings drove them back, and they fled in terror from such +awful corruption. + +But the flying monster, with a wing spread of eight feet, dashed past +them, and silhouetted against the rising moon like a goblin. Then came +another, and finally a flock of the big birds. + +Durkin and Maget ran away, passing the stone house which stood near +the cavern's mouth. The booming sounds from the bowels of the earth +filled their ears now, and it was not thunder; no, it issued from the +depths of the mine. + +"We--we got to get somethin' to eat," said Durkin, as they paused near +one of the shacks, in which shone a light. + + * * * * * + +Sounds of voices came from the interior. They crept closer, and +listened outside the window. Inside, they could see Espinosa, Gurlone +senior, and the big youth with the golden beard, Gurlone junior. + +"Yes, father," the young man was saying. "I believe we had better +leave, at once. It's getting dangerous. I've reached the five million +mark now, with the new process, and it is ready to work with or sell, +just as we wish." + +"Hear that?" whispered Durkin triumphantly. "Five million!" + +"It's all ready, in the stone house," said young Gurlone. + +"Why should we leave now?" said old Gurlone, his livid face working. +"Now, when we are just at the point of success in our great +experiments? So far, while we have struck many creatures of abnormal +growth, still, we have overcome them." + +"Well, father, there is something in the mine now which makes it too +dangerous to work. That is, until they are put out of the way. You can +hear them now." + +The three inside the shack listened, and so did Durkin and Maget. The +booming sounds swelled louder and the earth of the valley shook. + +"I t'ink we better go," said Espinosa gruffly. "I agree with your son, +Professor." + +"No, no. We can conquer this, what ever it is." + +"You see, father, while you were away, we broke through into a natural +cavern, an underground river. It was then that the trouble started. +You know the effect of the stuff on the insects and birds. It enlarged +a cricket one hundred times. You saw that yourself. Six of the peons +have disappeared--they didn't run away, either. They went down the +shaft and never came back." + +"Oh, they probably fell into the water and drowned," said old Gurlone +impatiently. "Even if they did not, we can kill anything with these +large bore rifles." + +"We'd better pull out and let it alone for a while," said young +Gurlone gravely. "The peons have been trying to bolt for several days. +They'd be gone now if I hadn't penned them in and electrified the +fence." + + * * * * * + +Maget put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm starving," he +whispered. + +Durkin nodded, and they turned away, toward what they had marked as a +supply shack. They heard a low murmur from the peons' pen, as they +began to break off the hasps of the lock which held the door of the +storehouse. + +They got inside with little trouble, and began to feel about in the +dark for food. They located biscuits and canned goods which they split +open, and these they wolfed hungrily, listening carefully for sounds +from outside. + +"Here they come," said Maget, gripping Durkin's arm. + +They looked out the window of the supply shack, and saw old Gurlone +issue from the building outside which the two tramps had been +listening. In one hand, the old Professor, brave as a lion, carried an +old fashioned double-barreled elephant gun, and the rays from a +powerful electric torch shone across the barrel. + +At least, they thought the bizarre figure was old Gurlone, from the +size. For the man was clad in a black, shiny suit, and over his head +was a flapping hood of the same material in which were large eyeholes +of green glass. Behind this strange form came a larger one, armed also +with a big bore rifle and with another powerful flashlight. + +The blind Portuguese was armed, too, but he was not clad in the black +suit. He took his stand beside the mouth of the cavern, and waited +while the two Gurlones entered the mine. + +"My foot hurts," said Durkin suddenly, breaking the silence. + +"I'm going out and see what happens," said Maget. + + * * * * * + +Durkin limped after Maget, who now took the lead. They crept close as +possible to the mine opening, and saw the big Portuguese standing +there in silence, listening carefully. Any sounds the two might have +made were drowned in the great bellowing from within the cavern. + +These noises, so like the croak of bullfrogs but magnified a thousand +times, were terrifying to the heart. + +The sweep of wings sounded on the night air, and Espinosa drew back +and squatted close to the ground, as immense green creatures, flying +on dusty wings, issued from the mine. + +"God, those are moths," breathed Maget. + +Yes, unmistakably, they were moths, as large as condors. The green +ones, but for their size, were lunar moths, familiar enough to the two +tramps. More bats came, disturbed by the entrance of the two Gurlones. + +Durkin broke, then. "I'm--I'm--I guess you're right, Maget," he +whispered, in a terrified voice. "We should have never come. If my +foot wasn't hurt, I'd start for the river now. Curse it, what a +place!" + +The booming, vast croaks filled the whole valley, reverberating +through the hills. Wails sounded from the peon camp. + +The big Portuguese was shouting to the Gurlones. "Come out, come out!" + +Maget gripped his own rifle, and stood up, bravely. His fear, though +it was great, seemed to have brought out the better side of the man, +while Durkin, so brave at first, had cracked under the strain. + +"Look out, they'll see you," whimpered Durkin. + +Maget strode forward. A blast of fetid, stinking air struck his face, +and he choked. The noises were now ear-splitting, but above the +bellows came the sounds of the big rifles, the echoes booming through +the recesses of the cavern. + +Then the two Gurlones, running madly, burst from the mine entrance. + +"Run," they screamed. "Run for your life, Espinosa!" + +"I'll help you," cried Maget, and Durkin could detain him no longer. + + * * * * * + +The Gurlones hardly noticed the newcomer, as they ran madly towards +the shelter of their houses. Espinosa joined them, going swiftly in +spite of his blind eyes. + +The croaking made Maget's brain scream with the immensity of the +sound. Luminous, white disks, three feet in diameter, glared at him, +and the creature, which progressed with jerky leaps toward him, almost +filled the mouth of the mine. + +It was hot in pursuit of the fleeing Gurlones. It squatted and then +jumped, and presently it was out in the night air. + +Its form was that of a gigantic frog, but it stood some twenty feet in +height, and from its throat sounded the terrific bellowing which +rivalled the thunder. + +Maget bravely stepped forward, and began to fire into the huge, soft +body. The great mouth opened, and as the dum-dum bullets tore gashes +in the blackish green batrachian, the thunderous croaks took on a note +of pain. + +The odor of the creature was horrible. Maget could scarcely draw his +breath as he fired the contents of the magazine into the big animal. +Two more jumps brought the frog almost to Maget's feet, and the +tropical tramp felt a whiskerlike tentacle touch his face, and bad +smelling slime covered him. + +The frog was blind, without doubt, from its underground life, but the +tentacles seemed to be the way it finally located its prey, for it +turned on Maget and made a final snap at him. The great jaws closed +like the flap of hell, and Maget leaped back with a cry of triumphant +terror. + + * * * * * + +The bullets had finally stopped the big frog, but at its heels came a +strange, jellylike creature, not quite as bulky as the frog, but +pushing along on its legs and with a tail some eight feet thick and +fifteen feet in length. This, too, evidently a polywog, was blind, +with whitened discs for eyes, but it slid along at a rapid rate +because of its size. Maget's gun was empty; he turned so flee, but the +polywog stopped and sniffed at the thick blood of its fellow. Then, to +Maget's relief, it began to hungrily devour its companion. + +Utterly filthy, and ferocious, the polywog in silence snapped great +chunks from the dead giant frog. + +"Hello. Who are you?" + +Maget turned, having forgotten the amenities of life in the +excitement. Professor Gurlone and his son, still clad in their black +suits, but with their helmets off, were standing beside him, clutching +their guns and lights. + +The big Portuguese, Espinosa, appeared, and Durkin was beside him. + +"Why," said Maget, between gasps, "we just happened to be out +exploring, and we saw your camp. We were on our way in when we heard +the noises and came to investigate." + +"I see," said old Gurlone. "What made you head in this direction, and +where's your outfit?" + +"Oh, we cached most of it back there," said Maget. "My partner's hurt +his foot, so he can't walk well. Isn't that so, Durkin?" + +"Yeh," growled Durkin. "I got a sore foot, all right." + + * * * * * + +Old Gurlone was suspicious of the vague story which Maget and Durkin +concocted as the explanation of their presence in the valley. But +evidently the Professor was too worried about the situation in which +he and his friends were, to question the two tramps very closely. In +fact, he seemed rather glad that he had two more pairs of hands to aid +him and he thanked Maget for his bravery. + +They dispatched the great polywog as it tore its parent to bits, and +then the five men, the two Gurlones, Espinoza, Maget, and the limping, +cursing Durkin, retired to one of the shacks. + +The living quarters of the Gurlones was quite elaborate. There were +many books on rough shelves, and there was a small bench filled with +glass phials and chemicals, though the main laboratory was in one of +the long buildings. + +Professor Gurlone poured drinks for the five, and welcomed Durkin and +Maget as allies. + +"We'll need every man we can get, if we are to cope with these great +creatures," said old Gurlone. "The peons are too frightened to be of +use. Luckily, it was a frog we came upon on the banks of the +subterranean river. There is no telling how many more creatures of the +same or greater size may be down there. We will have to destroy them, +every one." + +Maget and Durkin shuddered. "Say," blurted Durkin, his face working +nervously, "how the hell did that frog get so big? I thought I was +seein' things, Professor." + +"No, no," said Professor Gurlone. "You see, the ore in the mine +contains radium, that is, salts of radium. It is a pitchblende +deposit, and it happens to be so rich in radium content that +throughout the ages it has affected all the life in the cavern. The +arid land surrounding the ore--this has been, generally, one of the +characteristics of radium deposits--has kept most of the jungle +creatures away, but underground beings such as reptiles, worms and +frogs, have gradually become immune to the effects of the ore and have +grown prodigiously and abnormally under the stimulation of the rays +given off by the radium. + +"Now, this is nothing strange in itself, but never before has such a +rich deposit been discovered, so that the amounts of radium available +have been too small to really check its effect on growth in animals. +That is our chief scientific object in coming here: we realized, from +Senor Espinosa's description of the played-out silver mine he had, and +from his loss of sight, that he had stumbled upon a valuable deposit +of radium. It usually occurs with silver, that is, the uranium mother +ore does, through the disintegration of which radium is formed. The +content of radium per ton in this ore proved unbelievably rich: we +were delighted. I have always suspected that the animal cell might be +stimulated into abnormal growth by exposure to radium salts, for such +a thing already has been hinted at in the scientific world. Not till +our chance came here, however, has enough radium been available for +the experiments." + + * * * * * + +Maget and Durkin listened with open mouths. Radium meant but vague +things to them. They had heard of radium paint which shone in the dark +on the dials of watches and clothes, but of the properties of the +metal and its salts they were utterly ignorant. + +"That radium stuff is what makes the funny light in that mine, then?" +asked Maget. + +"Exactly. The radio-activity of the elements in the ore give off the +light. There are three rays, the alpha, beta and gamma, and--" + +The professor forgot himself in a lecture on the properties of radium. + +Durkin, breaking in, asked, slyly. "Is this radium worth as much as +silver?" + +Young Kenneth Gurlone laughed, and even old Professor Gurlone smiled. +"Radium is worth more than gold or diamonds or platinum. Its value is +fabulous. We have five million dollars worth already, in the form of +the chloride." + +"Whew," whistled Durkin. + +He glanced sidewise at Maget. + +"Yes," said Professor Gurlone, "five million dollars worth of it! +Those great monsters who have been developed throughout the ages by +the action of the radium rays on their bodies, causing them to grow so +prodigiously, are but incidents. We must destroy them, so that our +work cannot be interfered with. We must use dynamite, blow them to +bits. They are powerful enough to crush the stone bank by the mine +mouth and ruin the labors of the past two years, gentlemen." + +Armed, and once more fortified with whiskey, the five made their way +outside. The moon was darkened by an immense shadow, as one of the +giant bats winged its way over their heads. But there were no more +monster frogs. The ugly, bulky shapes of the dead polywog and its +parent lay before them. + +"We are safe for the moment," said Professor Gurlone. "Go and quiet +the peons, Espinosa: they will listen to you." + + * * * * * + +The peons still wailed in terror; the blind Espinosa slipped silently +away. + +"Come," said Professor Gurlone, to his son and to Maget and Durkin. "I +will show you the laboratory, so that you can understand better the +effects of radium on growth." + +The professor led them to the long, low, many-windowed building +nearby, and flooded it with light. It contained cage after cage in +which were monkeys, pumas, and various jungle folk. These creatures +set up a chattering and howling at the light and intruders. + +Maget glanced curiously about him. He saw shining vials and glassware +of queer shapes on long black tables, and tubes of chemicals. There +were immense screens of dull lead. "Those are for protection," said +Professor Gurlone, "as are the lead-cloth suits we wear. Otherwise we +would be burned by radium rays." + +Maget looked about, to see if his partner was listening, but he had +gone away. + +However, Maget was intensely interested. He went from cage to cage as +Professor Gurlone, rather in the manner of a man giving a lecture to +students, pointed out animal after animal that had been treated by the +radium. + +"This," said the professor, "is a monkey which usually attains a +height of two feet. You can see for yourself that it is now larger +than a gorilla." + + * * * * * + +The horrible, malformed creature bared its teeth and shook its bars in +rage, but it was weak, evidently, from the treatment accorded it. Its +hair was burned off in spots, and its eyes were almost white. + +There was a jaguar, and this beast seemed to have burst its skin in +its effort to grow as large as three of its kind. + +"You see, we have not so much time as nature," said Professor Gurlone. +"These beasts cannot be enlarged too rapidly, or they would die. They +must be protected from the direct rays of the radium, which is +refined. In the ore, the action is more gradual and gentle, since it +is less concentrated. But the metal itself would burn the vital organs +out of these creatures, cause them to be struck blind, shrivel them up +inside and kill them in a few minutes in the quantity we have. We +expose them bit by bit, allowing more and more time as they begin to +grow immune to the rays. Here, you see, are smaller creatures which +have grown some eight or ten times beyond normal size." + +All the animals seemed the worse for wear. Maget, his brain reeling, +yet was beginning to grasp what radium did to one. It was not gold +that you could pick up and carry away. + +"If a man touched that radium," he asked, "what would happen to him?" + +"Just what I said would happen to the animals if we did not give it to +them gradually," said Gurlone, with a wave of his hand. "It would kill +him, strike him down as though by invisible poison gas. His heart and +lungs would cease to function, pernicious anemia would set in, as the +red corpuscles in his blood perished by millions. He would be struck +blind, fall down and die in agony." + +To Maget came the picture of the unfortunate Juan. As though answering +his unasked question, Professor Gurlone went on. "We had a peon coming +up with us," he said. "His name was Juan. He stole my sample-case, +which contained an ounce of radium chloride, and ran off with it. If +he opens it, it will kill him in just that way." + + * * * * * + +Maget shivered. "But--but didn't it hurt you to carry it?" he asked. + +"No. For it was incased in a lead container some two inches in +thickness, and the rays cannot penetrate such a depth of lead. They +are trapped in the metal." + +"Father, father, you're wasting time," broke in Kenneth Gurlone, +shaking his yellow head. "We must act at once. The peons are almost +mad with fear. Even Espinosa cannot quiet them. And every moment is +precious, for the monsters may break forth." + +But Maget was looking nervously about for Durkin. Where was he? Durkin +had his mind on the treasure, and-- + +As they turned toward the door, the professor saying. "The rays from +the ore, which is not so concentrated as the purified metal, do not +kill--" Durkin suddenly appeared. + +He carried his rifle at his hip, and he limped and cursed angrily. +"Come across," shouted Durkin. "Give me the key to that stone house. +Snap into it, and no argument." + +"The key--to the stone bank?" repeated old Gurlone. + +"Yes. I'll give you five counts to throw it over--then I'll shoot you +and take it," snarled Durkin savagely. "I want that treasure, whatever +it is, and I'll have it. One ... two ... three...." The tramp sent a +shot over their heads as a warning. + +"Hey, Bill, easy, easy," pleaded Maget. "That stuff is radium. It'll +ruin you, boy!" + +"Shut up, you yeller-bellied bum," snarled Durkin. "Four...." + +A tinkle of metal came on the stone floor of the laboratory, as old +Gurlone tossed his keys to Durkin. + +"Don't go in that shack," cried young Gurlone. "It'll be your death, +man--" + +"Liars," yelled Durkin, and backed out the door. + +"H'm," said old Gurlone, turning to Maget. "So you came to rob us, +eh?" + + * * * * * + +But Maget thought of Juan, and then he knew he did not want Durkin, in +spite of his failings, to perish so. He ran for the door, and across +the clearing. + +"Durkin--Bill--wait, it's Frank--" + +Great bellowings sounded from the bowels of the earth, but Maget +ignored these in his effort to save his partner. Durkin had the +padlock off the stone shack, and pulled back the door. + +As the door disclosed the interior, Maget could see that a greenish +haze filled the entire building. Wan liquid light streamed forth like +heavy fluid. + +Bravely, to save his pal from death, Maget ran forward. But Durkin had +entered the stone shack. + +Maget went to the very door of the building. Durkin was inside, and +Maget could see his partner's thick form as a black object in the +strange, thick air. + +An eery scream came suddenly from Durkin's lips; Maget wrung his hands +and called for help. + +"Come out, Bill, come out," he cried. + +Durkin evidently tried to obey, for he turned toward the door. But his +knees seemed to give way beneath him, he threw his arm across his eyes +as he sank to the ground, crying in agony, incoherent sounds issuing +from his lips. + +Shriek after shriek the unfortunate man uttered. As Maget made a dash +forward to take a chance with death and rescue his friend, Professor +Gurlone and his son Kenneth ran up and threw a black cloak over the +tramp. + +The three entered the shack of death. Maget, not entirely covered, +felt his heart give a terrific jump, and he gasped for breath. Durkin +was quivering on the floor which was lined with lead. + + * * * * * + +Round vials stood about the room like a battery of search-lights, and +from these emanated the deadly green haze. + +But almost before Maget touched his pal, Durkin was dead. Curled up as +though sewed together by heavy cords. Durkin lay in a ball, a shaking +mass of burned flesh. + +The two Gurlones pushed out ahead of them, and raised their hands. +They had on their black suits and their helmets. + +"It is too late to do anything for him now," said Kenneth Gurlone +sadly. "He was headstrong. You can see for yourself that the five +million dollars takes care of itself. Certain death goes with it if +you are unprotected. These lead-cloth suits will keep off the rays for +a short time. We always wear them when we are working with the metal, +even when we have a lead screen." + +"Poor Bill," sobbed Maget. "It's terrible!" + +Professor Gurlone shrugged. "It was his own fault. He was a thief and +he would not let us stop him. I hope it's been a lesson to you, +Maget." + +"Yes, I want to help you," said Maget. "If you'll keep me with you, +I'll work for you and be straight. Give me a chance." + +"Good. Then shake hands on it," said Kenneth, and they clasped hands +firmly. + +Espinosa appeared from the darkness. "The peons are mad with terror," +he said morosely. "They cannot be held much longer. They will revolt." + +"Well, we must kill the creatures in the cavern: that will quiet them +more than anything else," said Professor Gurlone. + +"Better close the stone shack," said Kenneth. + +But as he spoke, a vast shape, another giant frog, appeared in the +entrance of the shaft. + +"Get some dynamite and fuses," ordered Professor Gurlone quietly. +"Come on Kenneth, and you, Maget, if you care to risk your life. You +need not do so unless you wish to." + +Bravely, the older man led the way towards the croaking monster. The +ground shook at its approach. It was heading for the bodies of the +dead frog and polywog, bent on a search for food. Evidently these vast +creatures were forced to prey upon one another for sustenance. + + * * * * * + +The rifles spoke, and Maget and the professor, in their black suits, +protected by the lead-cloth and helmets from the rays, advanced. They +poured bullet after bullet into the frog. + +Kenneth came running to join them, and Espinosa stood by. Kenneth had +dynamite bombs with fuses ready for lighting and throwing. He also +brought more ammunition, and the three armed themselves to the teeth. + +It was well after midnight when they started into the mine. They knew +they must act quickly or retreat, for the bellowing sounded nearer and +nearer the surface of the earth. + +Each man carried big, powerful flashlights, and the three entered the +mine shaft and walked across the seething slugs into the bowels of the +earth. + +"Stay close together," ordered old Gurlone. + +The mine was easy to descend for the first hundred yards. It led in a +gentle slope downward. The way, save for a few giant bats and moths, +and the big maggots, was clear. The greenish haze, not so bright as +that in the death shack, enveloped them, but they needed their flashes +to see clearly. + +"Slowly, take it easy," counseled old Gurlone. + +The mine spread out now, and began a steeper descent. The air was +poor, and it was hard to breathe through the mask. Maget, his heart +thumping mightily, listened to the roaring within the depths of the +mine. + +Now the ground seemed to drop away before them. Maget could hear the +running of water, the underground river, and every now and then there +came an immense splash, as if some great whale had thrown itself about +in the water. + +A terrifically loud hissing filled their ears, and suddenly, before +them, showed an utterly white snake with a head as big as a barrel. +Its white eyes glared sightlessly, but its tongue stuck forth for +several feet. + +Kenneth Gurlone coolly tossed a lighted bomb at the creature: the +explosion shattered their ear-drums, but it also smashed the serpent. + + * * * * * + +The writhing, wriggling coils, bigger than the body of a horse, +slashed about, dangerously near. They picked themselves up, and pushed +on, keeping close to the right wall. + +A great bat smashed against Maget, and knocked the light out of his +hand, but the blow was a glancing one, and he was able to retrieve his +light and hurry on. + +They were far from the entrance now. The hole which had been broken +through by the peons showed before them, and they could see milky +water dashing over black rocks. + +Pallid eyes looked at them, and they knew they gazed upon another of +the giant frogs. They tossed a bomb at the creature, and blew a jagged +hole in his back. No sooner had he begun to die than there came a +sudden rush of other monsters and a feast began. + +"Throw, all together," yelled Kenneth Gurlone. + +Into the vast mass of creatures, who crowded one another in the river +for their share of the spoils, they threw bomb after bomb. The +dynamite deafened them, and acrid fumes choked them, but they fired +their rifles at the prodigious animals and there, in the big river +cavern, was a seething mass of horrible life, dying in agony. + +The bellowings and hissings sounded louder, so loud that the earth +shook as if actuated by a mighty earthquake. + +Maget gripped Kenneth Gurlone's arm. "My bombs are gone," he shouted. + +He had but a few rounds of ammunition left, and still more of the +giant reptiles appeared. A centipede with its creeping, horrible legs +topped the mass of squirming matter; they could see the terrific sting +of the creature, so deadly when but a fraction of an inch long, and +which was now at least a foot, armed with poison. + +There came the rush of more bats and moths, a rush that threw the +three men off their feet. + +"We must have opened the hole more with our bombs," shrieked old +Gurlone. "The dead bodies attract the other creatures, more and more +of them are coming. It is impossible; we cannot deal with them all." + + * * * * * + +The vast gobbling of the great animals in the river below them was so +prodigious they could not grasp it. It seemed it must be optical +illusion. In a few moments, the dead had been eaten, swallowed whole, +and fights were progressing between the victors. + +They tossed the rest of their bombs, fired the remaining ammunition, +and as they prepared to retreat, several of the big creatures slopped +over and started up the river bank into the mine shaft. + +They ran for their lives, the three. Madly, with the earth shaking +behind them as they were pursued by a hopping monster of a beetle with +immense mandibles reaching out at them, they dashed for the open air. + +Giant moths and bats struck at them, and Maget fell down several times +before he reached the outside, and he was bruised and out of breath. + +"Come on, there are too many to fight," gasped old Gurlone, throwing +off the lead suit. + +But there was no need to talk. The creatures, disturbed by the bombs, +had collected in one spot and, shown the way out by one of their +number, were coming. + +Espinosa, with Kenneth Gurlone holding his hand, ran swiftly for the +hills surrounding the valley. Maget helped old Professor Gurlone, who +was so out of breath that he could scarcely move. + +The great beetle which had been pursuing them was the first to break +forth into the valley. Turning back for a look over his shoulder, +Maget saw the thing pause, but the cavern belched forth a vast array +of monsters, the beasts roaring, hissing, bellowing, in an increasing +mass of sound. + +They swarmed over the ground, and giant bats and moths winged their +way about the heads of the monsters. + +At the rim of the valley, the four men paused. + +"God help the peons," said Kenneth Gurlone. + + * * * * * + +Now the horde of monsters swelled more and more; the bats and moths +winged in mad frenzy about the open door of the radium shack. There +were great beetles, centipedes, ants, crickets, hopping, crawling +things, and grotesquely immense in size. Fights progressed here and +there, but the majority of them were carried along in the sweep of the +multitude. + +"See, the radium kills those who get too close," said Professor +Gurlone, in a hushed voice. + +The giant moths and bats were unable to withstand the lure of the +green light. They flew with mad beatings of wings straight for the +open door of the death house, and many of the great creatures, +attracted by the light and urged on by an unexplainable force which +sent them to death like gnats and moths in a flame, crowded near to +the death-dealing radium. + +Not until the whole shack was covered with quivering forms of the +dead, did the other creatures veer off and with hops, creepings and +myriad giant legs, begin to cover the whole valley. + +The stone walls of the death shack had crumpled in with the weight; +the other buildings, more lightly built, gave at once, with crackings +and crashings. + +The four men were powerless to assist the unfortunate peons, who were +trapped in their barracks. The charged wires stopped many of the big +beasts, but soon the electric light was short-circuited, and the +valley, in the moonlight, was a seething mass of fighting, dying, +feasting monsters. + + * * * * * + +Other sounds, besides those made by the big creatures, came to the +ears of the stricken men on the hillside. The breaking of glass, the +cries of the jungle animals trapped in their cages, the shrieks of +dying peons who were eaten at a gulp by the big frogs or stung to +death, impaled on the mandibles of some great stinging centipede. + +In the spot where the radium death shack had been, was a pulpy mass of +livid, smoky light. + +Now the bowl of the valley was filled as by some vast jelly. The +creatures were slopping over the walls, and battling together. + +The shambles was not yet over, but the four could remain no longer. +They made their way down the hillside and struck out across the arid +lands. + +Maget, the tramp, became the leader. He was a trained jungle man, and +it was he who finally brought them safely to the Madeira. + +He was their strong man, the one who found the trail and located roots +and fruit for the party to subsist on. They nearly perished in the +trip for lack of water, but again, Maget was able to supply them with +roots which kept them from dying in agony. + + * * * * * + +They lay upon the river bank now, exhausted but alive. Maget had +assisted old Gurlone, acted as his staff, half carried him the last +miles of the trip. + +Their clothes were almost gone, they were burned to crisps by the +tropic sun. Flies and other insects had taken their toll. But Maget +had brought them through. + +The tall, thin fellow's hair had turned utterly white. But so had his +soul. + +"You're a good man, Maget," said Professor Gurlone. "You have saved +us, and you have been brave as a lion." + +Maget shook his head. "Professor," he said. "I came into the jungle to +rob you. Durkin and I bribed Juan to steal that radium, and I feel +responsible for his death. We thought you had diamonds or gold in the +Matto Grosso, and we were after it. That's why I am here." + +"You have repaid your debt to us, more than fully," said Kenneth, +holding out his hand. + +"Yes," said Espinosa. + +"Will you keep me with you, then?" asked Maget anxiously. "Are--will +you go back there?" + + * * * * * + +Professor Gurlone stared at him, and then said, in a surprised tone, +"Why, of course!" + +"But the monsters?" asked Maget. + +"Many of them will die in the outer air," said Gurlone. "The survivors +of the battles will start eating the dead. They will finally clear +away the debris of dead creatures about the radium shack. As each is +exposed to the rays of the concentrated metal, it will die. The others +will eat it, and be killed in turn. Thus, they will be destroyed. If +there are any survivors after this evident turn of events, then we +will cope with them when we return, reinforced. Dynamite, enough of +it, will finish them off. And, Maget, in your next pursuit after +knowledge of strange things, you may get a few earthly riches. The +radium is still there, and you will share in it." + +"Thank you," said Maget humbly. "I'm with you to the end." + +"You must keep quiet about this," cautioned Kenneth Gurlone. "We do +not want the world to know too much of our vast store of radium. It +would attract adventurers and we would be annoyed by ignorant men. But +we're thankful you lay drunk in that saloon when my father spoke of +the millions, Maget." + +In Manzos, Maget found himself a changed man. To his surprise, in +spite of his white hair, brought on by the horror of what he had seen, +he found that he had gained two inches in height, and that he was +larger of girth. This, Professor Gurlone told him, was the effect of +the radium rays. + +Never again did Maget lie drunk on the floor of a saloon. The events +through which he had gone had seared the tramp's soul, and he kept +close to his new master, Professor Gurlone. + + + + +The Moon Master + +_By Charles W. Diffin_ + +[Illustration: _He laughed loudly and contemptuously._] + +[Sidenote: Through infinite deeps of space Jerry Foster hurtles to the +Moon--only to be trapped by a barbaric race and offered as a living +sacrifice to Oong, their loathsome, hypnotic god.] + + +"Now that's a mighty queer noise." Jerry Foster told himself. He +dropped the pack from his shoulders and leaned closer to the canyon +rim. + +Miles behind him was the last beaten trail: Jerry wanted peace and +solitude and quiet. And now the quiet of the silent mountains was +disturbed. + +From far below came a steady, muffled roar. Faint it was, and distant, +but peculiar in its unvarying, unceasing rush. + +"Not water," Jerry concluded; "not enough down there. Sounds +like--like a wind--like a wind that can't quit. + +"Oh well--" He shrugged his shoulders and slipped into the straps of +his pack. Then he went back again to the granite ledge. "I wonder if +there's a way down," he said. + +There was, but it took all of Jerry's strength to see him safely +through. On a fan-shaped talus of spreading boulders he stopped. There +was a limestone wall beyond. And at its base, from a crevice that was +almost a cave, came a furious rush of air and steam. + +[Illustration] + +It touched him lightly a hundred feet away, and he threw himself flat +to escape the hot blast. Endlessly it came, with its soft, rushing +roar, a ceaseless, scorching blast from the cold rocks. + +"That's almighty funny," mused Foster, and sniffed the air. There was +no odor. + +"And is it hot!" he said. "Nothing like that in my geology book. And +what is beyond? Looks like concrete work, as if someone had plastered +up the cave." He picked his way quickly across the rock slope. + +It was hard going. Below him the rocks and dirt went steep to the +canyon floor. At its foot the blast swept diagonally over the slope. +He must see what lay beyond.... + +"Curious," he thought; "curious if that is nature's work--and a lot +more so if it isn't." + +A rock rolled beneath his feet. Another! He scrambled and fought +desperately for foothold in the slipping earth. Then, rolling and +clawing, he rode helpless on the slide straight toward the mysterious +blast. He felt it envelop him, hot and strangling. His lungs were dry +and burning ... the blazing sun faded from the rocks ... the world was +dark.... + + * * * * * + +Darkness was still about him when he awoke. But it was cool; the air +was sweet on his lips. And it was not entirely dark. + +He turned his head. He was in a room. On a rough-hewn table a candle +was burning. Its light cast flickering shadows on walls of stone. +Rumbling in his ears was the sound of the blast that had overwhelmed +him. It echoed, seemingly, from far back in the stone cliff. + +Jerry made a move to sit up. He found that his hands and feet were +tied, his body bound to the rough board bed. + +At the sound of his stirring, a figure came out from the farther +shadow. It was that of a man. Jerry looked at him in silence. He was +tall, his thin erectness making him seem abnormal in the low room. The +lean face was unshaven, and from under a thatch of black hair a pair +of deep-set eyes stared penetratingly at the figure on the rude bed. + +"Well," asked Jerry, at length, "what's the big idea?" + +There was no reply. Only the intent, staring eyes. + +"You got me out of that man-trap of yours," Jerry continued. "You +saved my life." + + * * * * * + +The tall man finally spoke. "Yes, I saved your life. You missed the +hottest part of the exhaust. I pumped you full of oxygen." + +"Then why tie me up like this?" Jerry Foster was frankly puzzled. + +"You are lucky to be alive. Spies are not always allowed--" He +interrupted himself abruptly. "You are a reporter," he stated. + +"Wrong," said Jerry Foster. + +"Who sent you?" + +"Nobody sent me. I heard the noise of your infernal blast-furnace and +came down to have a look." + +"Who sent you?" repeated the man. "Goodwin? The Stillwater crowd? Who +was it?" + +"I don't know what you are talking about," protested Jerry. "I don't +know who your Goodwin or Stillwater people are. I don't know who you +are--I don't give a damn. Take these ropes off and cut out the +melodrama. I'll go on my way, and I don't care if I never see you +again." + +"That's a lie." The tall figure leaned over to shake a bony fist. +"You'd report to Goodwin. He stole my last invention. He'll not get +this." + +Jerry considered the wild figure carefully. "He's a nut," he thought. +When he spoke, his voice was controlled. + +"Now, see here," he said: "I don't know anything about this. I'm Jerry +Foster, live in San Francisco--" + +"So does Goodwin." + +"Confound you and your Goodwin! So do a million other people live +there! I'm getting away from there; I'm heading into the hills for a +short vacation. All I want is to get away from the world. I'm looking +for a little peace and quiet." + + * * * * * + +The thin man interrupted with a harsh laugh. + +"Come here spying," he said, "and tell me you want to get away from +the world." Again he laughed shrilly. + +"And I am going to be your little fairy godmother. I wish you were +Goodwin himself! I wish I had him here. But you'll get your +wish--you'll get your wish. You'll leave the world, you shall, +indeed." + +He rocked back and forth with appreciation of his humor. + +"Didn't know I was all ready to leave, did you? All packed and ready +to go. Supplies all stowed away; enough energy stored to carry me +millions of miles. Or maybe you did know--maybe there are others +coming...." He hurried across the room to open a heavy door of split +logs in the rock wall. + +"I'll fool them all this time," he said; "and you'll never go back to +tell them." The door closed behind him. + +"Crazy as a bed-bug," Jerry told himself. He strained frantically at +the ropes that bound him. "Looks bad for me: the old bird said I'd +never go back. Well, what if I die now ... or six months from now? +Though I know that doctor was wrong." + +He tried to accept his fate philosophically, but the will to live was +strong. And one of his wrists felt looser in its bonds. + + * * * * * + +Across the room his pack lay on the floor, and in it was a heavy +forty-five. If he could get the pistol.... A knot pulled loose under +his twisting fingers. One hand was free. He worked feverishly at the +other wrist. + +The ropes were suddenly loose. He pulled himself to his feet, took a +moment to regain control of cramped muscles, then flung himself at the +pack. When the heavy door opened he was behind it, his pistol in his +hand. + +There was no struggle: the lanky figure showed no maniacal fury. +Instead, the man did a surprising thing. He sank weakly upon the rough +bunk where Jerry had lain, his face buried in his thin hands. + +"I should have let you die," he said slowly, hopelessly. "I should +have let you die. But I couldn't do that.... And now you'll steal my +invention for Goodwin." + +Jerry was as exasperated as he was amazed. + +"I told you," he almost shouted. "I never knew anyone named Goodwin! I +don't care a hoot about your invention. And as for letting me die--why +didn't you? That's a puzzle: you were about to kill me, anyway." + +"No," said the other patiently. "I wasn't going to kill you." + +"You said I'd never go back." + +"I was going to take you with me." + +"Take me where?" + +"To the moon," said the drooping figure. + +Jerry Foster stared, open-mouthed. The pistol lagged in his limp hand. +"To the moon!" he gasped. + +Then: "See here," he said firmly. "I've got you where I want you."--he +held the pistol steady--"and now I'm going to learn what's back of +this. I think you are crazy, absolutely crazy. But, tell me, who are +you? What do you think you're doing? What was the meaning of that +roaring blast?" + + * * * * * + +The man looked up. "You don't know?" he asked eagerly. "You really +don't?" + +"No," said Jerry; "but I'm going to find out." + +"Yes," the other agreed. "Yes, you can, now that you've got the +upper-hand. I guess I was half crazy when I thought I had been spied +out. But I'll tell you." + +He sat erect. "I am Thomas J. Winslow," he said, and made the +statement as if it were an explanation in itself. + +"Well," said Jerry, "that's no burst of illumination to my ignorance. +Come again." + +The man called Winslow was ready--anxious--to talk. + +"I am an inventor. I have made millions of dollars"--Jerry looked at +the disheveled apparel of the speaker and smiled--"for other people. +The Stillwater syndicate stole my valveless motor. Then I developed my +television set. Goodwin beat me out of that: he will have it on the +market inside of a year. I swore they should never profit by this, my +greatest invention." + +Jerry was impressed in spite of himself by the man's earnest +simplicity. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"I've broken the atom," said Winslow. "First tore the atoms of +hydrogen and oxygen apart--dissociated them in the molecule of +water--and have resolved them into their energy components. That's +what you heard--the reaction. It it self-sustaining, exothermic. That +hot blast carried off the heat of my retort." + + * * * * * + +Winslow rose from the bunk. Gone was his listless despondency. + +"Put up that gun," he said: "you don't need it now. I think we +understand each other better than we did." He crossed with quick +strides to the door leading into the cliff. + +"Come with me," he told Foster. "I am leaving to-day. You will not +stop me. But before I go I will show you something no other man than +myself has ever seen." + +He led the way through the doorway. There was another room beyond, +Jerry saw. It was a cave. Plainly Winslow had taken these caves in the +rocks and had made of them a laboratory. + +A lantern gave scant illumination: Jerry made out a small electric +generator, and that was all. He felt a keen disappointment. Somehow +this thin-faced man had communicated to him something of his own +belief, his own earnestness. + +"What kind of a laboratory do you call this?" he demanded. But the +other was busy. + +In the wall an opening had been closed with a small iron door, with +cement around it. Winslow opened it and reached through. He was +evidently adjusting something. + +The little dynamo began to hum. There was a crackling hiss from beyond +the iron doorway. The opening was flooded with a clear blue light. + +Then the roar began. It was tremendous, deafening, in the echoing +cave. + +"You may look now," said Winslow, and stood aside. + + * * * * * + +Jerry peered through. There was another cave beyond. In it was a small +metal cylinder, a retort of some kind. The blue light came from a +crooked bulb beyond. The retort itself was white-hot, despite a +stream of water flowing upon it. A cloud of steam drove continuously +out and up through a crevice in the rocks. + +The water flowed steadily from some subterranean stream in the +limestone formation. It was diverted for its cooling purposes, but a +portion also flowed continuously into the retort. Jerry's eyes found +this, and he could see nothing else. For, before his eyes, the +impossible was occurring. + +The retort was small, a couple of feet in diameter. It had no +discharge pipes, could hold but a few gallons. Yet into it, in a +steady stream, flowed the icy water. Gallons, hundreds of gallons, +flowing and flowing, endlessly, into a reservoir which could never +hold it. + +The inventor watched Foster with complacent satisfaction. + +"Where does it go?" Jerry asked incredulously. + +"Into nothingness," was the reply. "Or nearly that!" + +"See?" He held up a flask of pale green liquid. "And this," he added, +exhibiting another that was colorless. + +"I have worked here for many months. I have converted thousands of +thousands of gallons of water. It has flowed into that retort, never +to return. I have gathered this, the product, a few drops at a time. + +"The protons and the electrons," he explained, "are re-formed. They +are static now, unmoving. Call this what you will--energy or +matter--they are one and the same." + +"Still," said Jerry, gropingly, "what has all that to do with the +moon? You said you were going there." + + * * * * * + +"Yes," agreed the inventor. I am going, and this is the driving force +to carry me there. I pass a certain electric current through these two +liquids. I carry the wires to two heavy electrodes. Between them +resolution of matter occurs. The current carries these two components +to again combine them and form what we call matter, the gases +hydrogen and oxygen. + +"Do I need to tell you of the constant, ceaseless and tremendous +explosion that follows? + +"But enough of this! You said I was crazy. I gave you a few bad hours. +I have shown you this much as a measure of recompense. You have seen +what no other man has ever seen. It is enough." + +He motioned Foster through the door. The roaring ceased. The inventor +returned shortly, the two flasks of liquid in his hands. He +transferred both to two metal containers that were ready for the +precious load. He carried them with the utmost care as he went out of +doors. + +Once he returned, and Jerry knew by the crashes from the inner room +that the laboratory work was indeed done. There would be nothing left +to tell the secret to whomever might come. + +He followed Winslow outside, trailing him toward a wooded knoll. There +was a clearing among the trees. And in it, hidden from all sides, his +eyes found another curious sight. + +On the ground rested a dirigible in miniature. Still, it was small, he +reasoned, only by comparison with its monster prototype: actually it +was a sizable cylinder of aluminum that shone brightly in the sun. It +was bluntly rounded at the ends. There were heavy windows, open +exhaust ports, a door in the side, pierced through thick walls. +Winslow vanished within, while Jerry watched in pitying wonder. + + * * * * * + +Despite its size, it was a toy, an absurd and pitiful toy. Real genius +and lunacy had many an over-lapping line, Jerry reflected as he +approached to look inside. But he found Winslow in a room surrounded +by a network of curving, latticed struts. The machine was no makeshift +of a demented builder: it was a beautiful bit of construction that +Jerry Foster examined. + +"How did you ever get it here?" he marveled. "What you had in the +cave you could pack in, but this--all these parts--castings--cases of +supplies--" + +The inventor did not even turn. He was busy with some final +adjustments. + +"Flew it in," he said shortly. "Built it in an old shop I owned out +near Oakland." + +"And it flew?" Jerry was still incredulous. + +"Certainly it flew! On a drop or less of the liquids you saw." He +pointed to a heavy casting at the center of the machine. There were +braces tying it strongly to the entire structure, braces designed to +receive and transmit a tremendous thrust. + +"This is the generator. Blast expelled through the big exhaust at the +stern. These smaller exhausts go above and below--right and left at +the bow. Perfect control!" + +"And you flew it here!" Jerry was still trying to grasp that +incontrovertible fact. "And you were going to take me to the moon, you +said." + +He looked above him where a pale, silvery segment showed dimly in the +sky. "But why the moon?" he questioned. "Even granting that this will +fly through space...." + +"It will," the other interrupted. "I tried it. Went up to better than +fifty miles." + +Jerry Foster took a minute to grasp that statement, then continued: +"Granting that, why go to the moon? There is nothing there, no air to +speak of, no water! It's all known." + + * * * * * + +The inventor turned to face the younger man in the doorway. + +"There is _nothing_ known," he stated. "The modern telescopes reach +out a million light years into space. But the one place they have +never seen--can never see--is less than two hundred and fifty thousand +miles away. The moon, as of course you know, always keeps the same +side toward us. The other side of the moon has never been seen. + +"Listen," he said, and his deep-set eyes were afire with an intense +emotion. "The moon is no tiny satellite; it is a sister planet. It is +whirled on the end of a rope (we call it gravitation), swung around +and around the earth. How could there be water or anything fluid on +this side? It is all thrown to the other side by the centrifugal +force. Who knows what life is there? No one--no one! I am going to +find out." + +Jerry Foster was silent. He was thinking hard. He looked about him at +the clean hills, the trees, the world he knew. And he was weighing the +secure life he knew against a great adventure. + +He took one long breath of the clear air as one who looks his last at +a familiar scene. He exhaled slowly. But he stepped firmly into the +machine. + +"Winslow," he said, "have you any rope handy?" + +The inventor was annoyed. "Why, yes, I guess so. Why? What do you want +of it?" + +"I want you to tie me up again," said Jerry Foster. "I want you to +carry me off as you planned. I want to go with you." + +The tall man stared at the quiet, determined face before him. Slowly +his own strained features smoothed into kindly lines. He grasped tight +at Jerry's hand. + +"I was dreading that part of it," he confessed slowly: "going alone. +It would have been lonely--out there...." + + * * * * * + +The shining cylinder of aluminum alloy was hurtling through space. No +longer was it a ship of the air; it had thrown itself far beyond that +thin gaseous envelope surrounding the earth; out into the black and +empty depths that lay beyond. And in it were two men, each reacting in +his own way to an adventure incredible. One was deep in the +computation of astronomical data; the other athrill with a quivering, +nerve-shaking joy that was almost breath-taking. + +A metal grating that had formed the rear wall of their cabin was now +the floor. Winslow had thrown the ship into a vertical climb that made +of their machine a projectile shooting straight out from the earth. +Gravitation held them now to the grating floor. And, stronger even +than the earth-pull, was the constant acceleration of motion that made +their weight doubled again and again. + +The inventor moved ponderously, with leaden limbs, to take sights from +the windows above, to consult his maps of the sky, check and re-check +his figures. But Jerry had eyes only for the earth they had left. + + * * * * * + +Flat on the grating he lay, his eyes over a thick glass in a +proturbance of the shell that allowed him to stare and stare at what +lay directly below. He watched the familiar things of earth vanish in +fleecy clouds; through them there formed the great ball, where oceans +and continents drew slowly into focus. + +And now he was filled with a sense of great solitude. The world, in +its old, familiar companionship, was gone--probably forever. The +earth--_his_ earth--_his_ world--that place of vast distances on land +and on sea, of lofty mountain ranges and heaving oceans, of cities, +countries, continents--was become but a toy. A plaything from the +nursery of some baby god, hanging so quiet in space he could almost +reach and take it in his hands. + +Beyond it the sun was blaring, a hard outlined disc in the black sky. +Its rays made shining brilliance of a polar ice-cap. + +Jerry Foster closed his eyes and drew back from the glass. Again he +was aware of the generator, whose endless roar reverberated in their +compartment. A smaller but similar apparatus was operating on one of +the liquids from the inventor's laboratory to generate oxygen and +release it inside the room. An escape valve had been set to maintain +one atmosphere of pressure about them. Water dripped from a condenser +where both gases were formed to burn into water vapor and cool to +liquid form. + + * * * * * + +One of the windows below admitted a shaft of direct sunlight; it +illumined their room with a faint glow. It would never cease, Jerry +knew. They were in a place of eternal sunshine, yet a realm of an +endless night. Above him, as Jerry raised his head, the windows framed +nothing but utter blackness, save where some brilliant point marked +the presence of a star. He missed the soft diffusion of light that +makes daylight on earth. Here was only the one straight beam that +entered one window to make a circle of light on the opposite wall. + +Jerry looked from a window of heavy glass at the side. This had been +the bottom of their ship when they left. And he found in the heavens +the object of their quest. Clear-cut and golden was half the circle; +the rest glowed faintly in the airless void. He tried to realize the +bewildering fact--the moon, this great globe that he saw, was rushing, +as were they, to their trysting-place in space. + +Jerry stared until his eyes were aching. His mind refused to take hold +upon the truth he knew was true. He was suddenly tired, heavy with +weariness that was an aftermath of his emotional turmoil. He let his +heavy body relax where some blankets had piled themselves upon the +grated floor. The roar of the generator faded into far silence as he +slipped into that strange spaceless realm that men call sleep. + + * * * * * + +The human mind is marvelous in its power of adjustment, its +adaptability to the new and the strange. The unbelievable is so soon +the commonplace. Jerry Foster was to sleep more than once in this tiny +new world of Winslow's creating, this diminutive meteor, inside which +they lived and moved and thought and talked. The fact of their new +existence soon ceased as a topic of wonder. + +They alternated in their rest. And they counted the passage of time by +the hours their watches marked, then divided these hours into days out +there where there were no days. Seven of them had passed when the hour +came that Winslow chose for checking their speed. + +They were driving directly toward the moon, which was assuming +proportions like those of earth. The pilot admitted a portion of the +blast to a bow port, and the globe ahead of them gradually swung off. +The pilot was reversing their position in space to bring the powerful +blast of their stern exhaust toward the moon, so as to resist somewhat +its increasing pull. + +Now their stern windows showed the approaching globe. It was slowly +expanding. They were falling toward it. The inventor moved a rheostat, +and from behind them the stern blast rose to a tremendous roar. The +deceleration held them with unbearable weight to the rear of the +cabin. + +No thought now for the shining earth, yellow and brilliant in the +velvet sky above. Jerry Foster watched through the slow hours as the +globe beneath them enlarged and expanded in ever-increasing slowness. +Slowly their falling motion slackened as they cushioned against the +terrific thrust of the exhaust below. + + * * * * * + +The globe ceased to grow and held constant. Winslow cut the exhaust to +a gentler blast. They were definitely within the moon's gravitational +field; their last hold upon the earth was severed. The great globe was +revolving beneath them. + +"How about it?" Foster asked breathlessly. "It doesn't revolve like +that--not the moon!" + +"We have approached from the earth side," said the other, "but we have +overshot it. Say that the moon is revolving, or say that we are +swinging about it in an orbit of our own--it is all the same thing." + +"And soon," he added slowly, "we shall see...." He faltered and his +lips trembled and refused to frame the words of a dream that was +coming true. "We shall see ... the lost side of the moon. What will it +be ... what--will--it--be...?" + +To Foster the whole experience had now the unreality of a dream. He +could not bring himself into mental focus. His thoughts were blurred, +his emotions dead. + +They were approaching the moon, he told himself. It was the moon that +was there below them, slowly enlarging now, as their own earth had +hung below them, but dwindling, when they left. + +"The moon!" he told himself over and over. "The moon--it is real!" But +the numbness in his brain would not be shaken off. + +His voice, when he spoke, was casual. He might have been speaking of +any commonplace--a ball-game, or a good show. + +"The sun is coming from my right," he said. "We are going around +toward the dark side of the moon. Shall you land there?" + +Winslow shook his head. "Wait," he said, "and watch." + +Jerry returned to his circle of glass. + + * * * * * + +There was a shading of light on the surface below him. From the right +the sun's brilliance threw black shadows and bright beams transversely +over a wilderness of volcanic waste. And beyond, where the rays could +not reach, was a greater desolation of darkness, its blackness +relieved only by a dim light. He realized with a start of amazement +that the dim light he saw was that of their own earth far above: it +was lighting their approach to this sister orb. + +Their side-motion was swift as they drew nearer. Another hour and +more, and they were drawing toward an expanse of utter darkness. The +earth-light was fading where they passed. They were approaching, in +very fact, the other side of the moon. + +What was below? What mysteries awaited them? He shivered, despite the +warmth of the generator, cherry-red, that heated the snug cabin; +shivered with unformed thoughts of unknown terrors. But he forced his +voice to calm steadiness when he repeated his question to Winslow. + +"Must we land there?" he asked. "In the dark?" + +The inventor was piloting his ship with ceaseless concentration. Their +falling speed was checked; they were close enough so that the +whistling of air was heard merging with the thunder of their exhaust. +He moved the rheostat under his hand, and the thunder slackened. + +"No," he said. "You are forgetting your astronomy. This 'other side' +is subject to the same conditions as the near side. The sun shines on +them alike, but alternately. We are rounding the limb away from the +sun. We find, as you see, a darkness that is absolute except for the +light of the stars. Here the earth never shines, and the sun only +during the lunar day. But the sun is creeping down this other side. +Their day, equal to fifteen of our days, is beginning. We shall come +into the light again. I am checking our motion across the surface. We +shall land, when it seems best, later on. There will be light." + + * * * * * + +The thin strong hands of the pilot played over the current and valve +controls. Their ship slowly swung and dipped to a horizontal position. +A blast from below held them off from the moon. A bow port was roaring +as their speed slowly decreased. + +Minutes merged endlessly into long hours as Jerry's eager eyes +strained to detect some definite form on the surface beneath. Dimly a +glow appeared far ahead; slowly the darkness faded. They were moving +ahead, but their wild speed was checked. And slowly the new earth +below took on outline and form as the sun's glow crept over it. + +What would the light disclose? His mind held irrationally to thoughts +his reason would have condemned. He found himself watching for people, +for houses, lights gleaming from windows. This, in a region of cold +that approached the absolute zero. The reality came as a shock. + +The first rays that crept into vision were silvery fingers of light. +They reflected up to the heights in glittering brilliance. They +gathered and merged as the ship drove on toward the sunrise, and they +showed to the watching eyes a wondrous, a marvelous world. A world +that was snowbound, weighted and blanketed with a mantle of white. + + * * * * * + +To Jerry the truth came as a crushing, a horrible blow. He turned +slowly to look at his companion; to look and be startled anew by the +happiness depicted on the lean face. + +"I knew it," the pilot was saying. "I always knew it. But +now--now...." He was speechless with joy. + +"It's terrible!" said Foster. He almost resented the other's elation. +"It's a hell! Just a frozen hell of desolation." + +"Man--man!" was the response, "can't you see? Look! The whiteness we +see is snow, a snow of carbon dioxide. The cold is beyond guessing. +But the clear places--the vast fields--it's ice, man, it's ice!" + +"Horrible!" Jerry shuddered. + +"Beautiful," said the other. "Marvellous! Think, think what that +means. It means water in the hot lunar day. It means vapor and clouds +in the sky. It means that where that is there is air--life, perhaps. +God alone knows all that it means. And we, too, shall know...." + +The ship settled slowly to the surface of the new world. Black blobs +of shadow become distinct craters; volcanoes rose slowly to meet them, +to drift aside and rise above as they sank to the floor of a valley. +They came to rest upon a rocky floor. + +On all sides their windows showed a waste of torn and twisted rock. +Volcanic mountains towered to the heights, their sides streaked with +masses of lava, frozen to stillness these countless years from its +molten state. The rising sun, its movement imperceptible, cast long +slanting rays between the peaks. It lighted a ghostly world, white +with thick hoar-frost of solid carbon dioxide. A silent world, locked +in the stillness of cold near the absolute zero. Not a breath of air +stirred; no flurry of snow gave semblance of life to the scene. Their +generator was stillen, and the silence, after the endless roaring of +endless days, was overpowering. + + * * * * * + +But Winslow pointed exultantly from one window, where an icy expanse +could be seen. "That will be water," he said; "water, when the sun has +risen." + +He turned on the generator for warmth. The cold was striking through +the thick insulated walls. They sat silent, peering out upon that +boundless desolation, upon a world's breathless nakedness, exposed for +the first time in all eternity to human eyes. + +Jerry's mind was searching for some means of expression, but the words +would not come. There were neither words nor coherent thoughts to give +vent to the emotions that surged within him. + +Their watches showed the passage of nearly two earth days before they +dared venture forth. They watched the white mantle of frost vanish +into gas. From the darkness that they called "west," winds rushed +shriekingly into the sunrise. + +"Convection currents," Winslow explained; "off under the sun. In the +direct rays the heat grows intense; the air rises. This is rushing in +to fill the void. It will serve our ends, too. It will churn the air +into a mixture we can breathe, dispel the thick layer of CO_2 that +must have formed close to the ground." + +More hours, and the icy sheet was melting. A film of water rippled in +the gusts of wind. Winslow opened the release valve that would permit +the escape of air from their chamber, equalizing the pressures within +and without. The air hissed through the valve, and he closed it so the +escape was gradual. + +"We must exercise," he told Jerry. "We will decompress slowly, like +divers coming up from deep-sea work. But watch yourself," he warned. +"Remember you are six times as strong as you were on the earth. Don't +jump through the roof." + + * * * * * + +THE valve had ceased to hiss when Winslow opened it wide. The air in +their cabin was thin; their lungs labored heavily at first. Jerry felt +as he had felt more than once at some great elevation on earth. But +they lived, and they could breathe, and they were about to do what +never man had done--to set foot on this place men called the unknown +side of the moon. + +Earth habits were strong: Jerry brought his pistol and a hunting knife +out of his pack and hung them at his belt, as the inventor opened the +door and sniffed cautiously of the air. + +Jerry Foster's blood was racing; the air was cold on his face as he +rushed out. But it brought to his nostrils odors strange and yet +strangely familiar. He was oddly light-headed, irresponsible as a +child as he shouted and danced and threw himself high in the air, to +laugh childishly at the pure pleasure of his light landing. + +The sun made long shadows of two ludicrous figures that went leaping +and racing across the rocks. Their strength was prodigious, and they +were filled with an upwelling joy of living and the combined urge of +an eternity of spring-times. The very air tingled with life; there was +overpowering intoxication in this potent, exhilarating breath from a +world new-born. + +The ground that they crossed so recklessly was a vast honeycomb of +caves. Between the rocks the soil was soft with the waters from +melting ice, and the men laughed as they floundered at times in the +oozing mud. Beyond was a lake, and it was blue with a depth of color +that was almost black, a reflection of the deep, velvet blackness of +the sky overhead. And beyond that was the sloping side of an extinct +volcano. + +"Up--up!" Jerry shouted. "From up there we will see the whole +world--the whole moon!" He laughed as he repeated the exultant phrase: +"The moon--the whole moon!" + + * * * * * + +Despite their strength which carried them in wild bounds across +impassable chasms, their laboring lungs checked them in the ascent. +The joyous inebriation was wearing off. Winslow met his companion's +eyes sheepishly as they stopped where a sheer cliff of basalt above +caught and held the warmth of the sun's rays. Behind them it rose a +straight hundred feet, and before stretched a vast panorama. The sun +was mounting now in the sky. It brought into strong relief the welter +of volcanic waste that extended in bold detail through the clear air +far out to the horizon, where, misty and dim, the first vaporous +clouds were forming from the steaming earth. + +And as they watched, the depressing bareness and emptiness of that +gray-black expanse was changing. Far to the east a pink flush was +spreading on the hills. It wavered and flowed, and it changed, as they +watched, to deep areas of orange and red. The delicate pink swept in +waves over valleys and hills, a vast kaleidoscopic coloration that +rioted over a strange world. + +In silence it spilled into the valley below. The slope they had +traversed was radiant with color. + +At their feet the ground was in motion: it heaved and rolled in +countless places. Rounded shapes in myriads were emerging. +Plants--mushroom growths--poured up from the earth to drink in the +sunshine of their brief summer. They burst the earth to show +unfolding leaves or blunted, rounding heads, that grew before the +men's incredulous eyes. + +Winslow was the first to recover from the stupefying beauty of the +spectacle. + +"The machine!" he gasped. "Back to the ship! We'll be swamped, +overwhelmed...." He rushed madly back down the slope. + + * * * * * + +Jerry was beside him, a revulsion of feeling driving him to frantic +efforts. The piercing beauty that had enthralled him has become a +thing of terror. The soft, pulpy, growing things that crushed beneath +his feet were a menace in their lust for life. + +They were a mile and more from the machine. Could they ever find it, +Jerry wondered. The whole landscape was changed; bare rocks were +half-hidden now under clinging, creeping vines. Only the sun remained +as a guide. They must go toward the sun and a little north. + +He followed Winslow, who was circling a huge area of weird growths +that already were waist high. They leaped across a gaping chasm and +fought their way over a low hill, rank with vegetation, only to be +confronted by a maze of great stalks--stalks that sprouted as they +watched, dismayed, and threw out grotesque and awkward branches. + +They made one futile effort to force their way, but the trunks, though +pliant, were unyielding. To attempt to find their way through the +labyrinth was folly. + +"We've got to keep on trying," said Jerry Foster. "We've got to get +back, or...." + +Winslow, as the look in his eyes showed, needed no ending to that +sentence. There was the summer of a lunar day ahead; the inventor did +not need to be told of the scorching, broiling heat that would wither +the land when the sun struck from straight overhead. And in their ship +was food and water and a means of transport to the cooler heights +above. + + * * * * * + +It was Jerry who took charge of the situation. Here was a prodigious +laboratory in which Winslow's science was useless, but in fighting +with nature--even nature in as weird and terrifying a mood as +this--Jerry felt himself not entirely incompetent. + +He looked about him. It had been but an hour since they watched the +first onslaught of this life that engulfed them. And now they were cut +off. Through an opening, where bare rocks made a rift in the +vegetation, he saw again the high ground where they had stood. There +was more rock there on the volcanic slope: the growing things were in +clumps--islands, rather than continents of rank growth. + +"We must go back," he told Winslow, "and climb while we can. Get to +the high ground, take bearings on the place where we left the ship. +We'll look over the ground and figure some way to get there." + +Winslow nodded. He was plainly bewildered, lost in the new jungle. He +followed Jerry, who bounded across a crevice in the earth. The ground +was rotten with the honeycomb of caves and cracks. + +Jerry forced his way through and over a rock heap, where the thick +trunks of nightmare trees were spaced farther apart. There was an +opening ahead; he started forward, then stopped abruptly and motioned +the other to silence. + + * * * * * + +From beyond there came sounds. There was rending of soft, pliant +tissue. The sound came through the thin air from a grove up ahead, +where big plants were waving, though the wind had long since ceased. +To their ears came a snoring, blubbering snuffle. A stone was +dislodged, to come bounding toward them from the hillside; the soft +plants were flattened before it. The men cowered in the shelter of a +giant fungus. + +Beyond the rocks, above the mottled reds and yellows of the grotesque +trees, a head appeared. It waved at the end of a long, leathery neck. +All mouth, it seemed to the watchers, as they saw a pair of short +forelegs pull the succulent tops of the giant growth into a capacious +maw. Below, there was visible a part of a gigantic, grayish body. It +was crashing down toward them, eating greedily as it came. + +"Back," said Jerry softly. "Go back to that cave. We will hide there +in some crack in the ground." + +They picked their way noiselessly over the rocks. The cave they had +crossed offered a refuge from the beast. It went slantingly down into +the ground, a great tunnel, deep in the rock. They dropped into the +opening and started forward, only to recoil at the fetid stench that +assailed their nostrils. + +"A bear pit," gasped Jerry. "Great Heavens! What a smell!" + +They stopped, dismayed. Far below them in the bowels of some +subterranean passage was the crashing of loose stone; a scrambling and +scratching of great claws came echoing to them. They leaped madly for +the outer air. + +"Over here," Jerry directed, and led the way, crouching, to the +concealment of great stalks and vine-covered rocks. He pointed toward +the open ground where they had been a few moments before. The +tree-eater was out in full view. Its flabby, barrel-like body was +squatted like that of some unearthly, giant toad, on massive hind +legs. It sat erect, its forelegs hung in air, as a hoarse, snarling +cry came from the cave. The great head, perched on the long leathery +neck, waved from side to side. + + * * * * * + +The noise from the cave ceased. The rift in the earth was in plain +sight from where they cowered, and the eyes of the men were upon it. +One instant it was empty; the next, in uncanny silence, it was filled +with huge hideousness--an enormous, crouching beast. + +It was black, a dull leathery black. Its thick, hairless hide hung in +creases and folds on a gaunt frame. Shorter than the tree-eater, it +was still a thing of mammoth ugliness. Its hind legs were powerful and +armed with claws that curved deep into the earth; its front legs +displayed the same fearful weapons. A thick, heavy tail slashed +forward and back over the ground. And from this to the grinning, +heavy-toothed jaws and beady eyes where the long neck ended in a warty +head, it was an incarnation of pitiless ferocity. + +Was the scent of the hidden, shuddering men in its red nostrils? It +forgot them at the sight of the beast in the clearing. The snarling +cry echoed hideously in the thin air as the frightful body came erect +with neck extended, jaws open and dripping. It hurled itself through +the air in one terrific leap. + +Had there been any lingering hope in the minds of the men that they +had no carnivores to deal with, the ensuing struggle ended it. The +attacker tore great masses of living flesh from the struggling, +screaming body. The first cumbersome brute was helpless before its +destroyer. + + * * * * * + +Jerry was trembling and sick at the sight, but he grasped his +companion's arm and drew him after as he slipped quietly away. + +"To the high ground," he whispered. "It's our only hope. Perhaps we +can fight them off there--find some steep rock we can climb." They +worked their way desperately through the rubbery, obstructing growth. + +At the foot of the hill there was better going; the bare rock gave +winding and twisting passage to the heights. They could have leaped +over the stunted growths here, could have raced frantically for the +high ground, but they dared not. To leap up into view of those fierce, +searching eyes! It was unthinkable. They crouched low as they darted +from their concealment to new shelter, and crawled behind rocks when +open ground must be crossed. + +They had dared regain hope when again the paralyzing scream ripped +through the silence. It was answered by another and another from +distant points. The valley of the caves was spewing out its loathsome +dwellers from their winter's sleep. + +The men raced openly now for the heights. As he leaped, Jerry turned +to see over one shoulder a pursuer appear. It was one of the +flesh-eaters, head to the ground on their trail. At sight of them its +cry rang out again. It bounded forward in pursuit. And again there +were answering screams from the jungle growth. + +The men threw themselves frantically up the mountainside. Once Winslow +landed in a sprawling heap and groaned as he drew himself to his feet. +The beast was below them. Jerry seized a great boulder, whose +earth-weight would have made it immovable. He raised it above his head +and sent it crashing down the slope. + + * * * * * + +Another and another he threw. One struck the great beast in mid-air; +it was pure luck that drove the stone crashing against the creature's +head. It fell back with a blood-chilling snarl that was half shriek. +Another monster appeared, to throw itself upon the first and tear at +the crushed, waving head. + +Jerry took his companion by the arm. His voice came strangled from his +straining lungs. "Are you hurt?" he gasped. "Can you run?" + +Winslow nodded breathlessly. Again they gathered themselves for their +wild, leaping retreat toward the top. An uproar of furious fighting +behind them marked where a score of the monsters had gathered for the +feast. + +Jerry watched vainly for some refuge, some pinnacle of rock or +precipice they could climb, and from which they could beat down their +attackers. There was nothing but the welter of volcanic waste: rock +heaps and boulders and smooth streams of solid lava. Perhaps in the +crater, he thought, over the ragged crest of the cone, might be some +place of safety. + +The pack was in full cry again as they climbed gaspingly to the top. +Beyond lay the funnel-shaped crater. Its vast inner slopes were less +steep than the hill they had climbed. They were covered with a jungle, +like those they had seen--a maze of red toadstools and distorted +trees. + +Jerry turned savagely to face the oncoming brutes. This, he knew, was +the end. For this they had hurled themselves through space--to make a +morning morsel for these incredible beasts. + + * * * * * + +About the men was a confusion of granite rocks, thrown from the crater +to provide weapons, crude and futile, for two puny earth-dwellers. The +men raised great rocks in the air and threw them with all their +strength. Jerry struggled with a mammoth boulder,--Winslow leaping to +his aid. They toppled it over to start an avalanche of devastation +that swept into the oncoming monsters. + +And again there was respite for their aching arms, while the +hunger-crazed brutes tore at the bruised bodies of their fellows. + +Jerry Foster looked longingly again toward the crater. Should they +chance the shelter of the jungle growth? Hopeless, he knew when these +monsters could crash their way through while the men were impeded at +every step. The mottled, orange-green stalks, as he watched them, +seemed to move. He dashed the sweat from his face--his hair hung +matted on his forehead--and passed a grimy hand across his eyes. +Plainly, one of those stalks crossed a rocky-floored clearing. + +Was he dreaming? Was this all a dream--a mad nightmare from which he +could force himself to wake? Another moved. He saw definitely a +mushroom growth pass swiftly to lose itself in a neighboring clump. +Dreaming? No! The screams from behind him and Winslow's hoarse yell +proved the stark reality of his surroundings. + +The vile creatures were close: Jerry could see their fierce heads +dripping with blood. He reached for his pistol, knew instantly it was +useless against these mammoth brutes, and joined Winslow, who was +straining desperately at another great rock. It toppled and fell. +Jerry hurled himself at a heap of smaller boulders and sent them +crashing as fast as he could seize them and throw. + + * * * * * + +One quick look behind him showed still the impossible vision he had +seen. And now there were figures--a mob of them--figures that threw +off their wrappings of vegetation as they ran, cast to the ground the +toadstool disguises that they held. They were caricatures of men that +were swarming up the hill.... + +He swung again in one last hopeless stand against the first horrible +enemy. The two men poured a torrent of stones down the slope; they +were useless, except for their delaying the advance. The beasts leaped +and dodged. They were close when the rock-rain increased to a deluge. + +Jerry was fighting in a red haze through which he saw dimly. He was +aware of the hailstorm of boulders that were thick in the air. He saw +vaguely the white faces and copper-clad bodies of strange men leaping +about him, and he heard the wild bedlam of their shrieks as they +joined in the mad battle against the common enemy. + +The beasts were swept off in a landslide of loose rock--all but one. +Above them, on a high point of stone, it was crouching to spring. A +wild human figure, its flesh white as chalk, leaped forward with a +tangle of fibers. The tangle was thrown as the brute was in air. A net +spread and wrapped around the monster. It fell, clawing and tearing, +to roll helplessly down the slope. + +The battle was won. Jerry swayed drunkenly on his feet. About him the +mountains seemed whirling, where unreal figures of men with dead +white skin and shining copper armor danced dizzily. + +He met for an instant the look from Winslow's dazed eyes. Out of the +past a picture flashed clearly: Winslow--this same Winslow--arguing +that the moon might hold mysteries still. He laughed thickly. + +"And I said it was all known," he muttered through slack lips. +"Nothing on the moon that wasn't known...." + +He was still laughing in a wild inebriation as a net settled close to +entangle his swaying figure and bear him helpless to the ground. He +saw Winslow similarly bound, saw him lifted to the shoulders of +shouting, yelling men, whose stupid, pasty faces were wide-eyed with +excitement. + +He, too, was raised into the air.... They were being carried toward +the crater's mouth.... + + * * * * * + +A fight for life in thin air does not make for clear thinking. Jerry +Foster knew only that a nightmare world was whirling about him; that +beneath him powerful shoulders supported, while the one who carried +him leaped at racing speed down the slope. + +They went more slowly down pathways cleared through the rank +vegetation. Soft, pulpy vines from the grotesque trees brushed his +face. He tried vaguely to shield himself, but his hands were bound +fast. He was helpless in the entangling folds of the net. + +The touch of cold stone brought him to his senses. He was lying on +smooth rock. They were in a clearing. He turned his head to find +Winslow, but could not find him. + +Across the open ground were naked men, their bodies, like these +others, dead white in the sun's glare. They were dragging giant stalks +to earth by means of ropes. Trunks and branches, bright in their +colors of yellow and orange and flaming red, were hacked to short +lengths and piled on all sides. The workers, as Jerry watched, +dropped their implements to race toward him. There was a press of +flat, white faces above. His captors, in their copper armor, beat the +newcomers back. The babel of chattering voices was deafening. + + * * * * * + +Again he was lifted into the air--plainly these were no weaklings he +had to deal with--and again the warrior band surrounded him as the +march was resumed. The milling, shrieking crowd of workers followed in +an ear-splitting mob. + +The forest ended, and the men went slowly now down smooth, rocky +slopes to stop upon a wide, level expanse. Before he was placed on the +ground Jerry had a glimpse of a funnel-shaped pit--the mouth of the +extinct volcano. And toward it, bound and helpless, was being carried +a struggling form which he thought he recognized. + +"Winslow!" he shouted. But the bodies in their gleaming copper armor +closed about him in a solid throng and cut off his view. + +In the sky the sun had moved slowly upward since first they landed. It +slanted brightly now into the eyes of the prostrate man and made a +spectacle of his twisting contortions as he tried to get his hands on +his knife in its sheath at his belt. This and his pistol were under +his coat. But he could not reach them. He lay panting with his +exertions. + +One of the warriors seemed to have authority, for his arms alone of +all the group were sheathed with copper circlets, and the others +obeyed his orders. Jerry addressed himself to this one. He knew the +words were unintelligible, but he pleaded desperately for a chance. + +"Take this off," he said. "We are friendly--friends--friends!" He +struggled to keep himself from shouting, to keep his voice under +control. "The other man," he said, "bring him back." And again he +repeated: "We are friends." + +He scanned his captors' faces. + + * * * * * + +The pasty face above him was impassive; the eyes stared +uncomprehendingly into his. Then the figure barked an order. One of +the warriors swung Jerry lightly to his shoulder, and started toward +the pit. + +At its edge was a basket, a huge affair of knotted fiber ropes. Dimly, +Jerry saw other baskets standing about: they were filled with the +fragments of fungus. Still bound, he was placed in the empty +container. Hands grasped the meshes, and he was swung out over the +edge. A rope was above him: he was lowered steadily into the dark +shaft. + +Jerry breathed a sigh of relief. This was not death--not yet. And +Winslow? Safe, perhaps, for he had traveled this same road. + +There was figures outlined above against the circle of light, figures +that clambered like apes down swaying ropes. The light glinted and +sparkled from their shining armor. His escort was still with him. + +The circle of light changed to a glowing ring, where only the rim was +lighted. Above was the deep black of the lunar sky. Then the circle +faded to a mere point as he went down into the pit. + +The rope basket came to rest upon a rock floor, and Jerry was lifted +out. He saw plainly the figures about him, and he wondered vaguely at +the light that came from the walls of the cavern. There were long +lines of soft light, leading off into the dark, lines that marked +plainly a labyrinth of passageways, leading in all directions. + + * * * * * + +Beyond a narrow entrance was one brighter than the rest, a broad +avenue that led downward still further into the depths. Here he was +carried. He tried vainly to keep some mental map of their course. He +would return some day--he _must_ return--he and Winslow. They would +escape.... But the passage turned and twisted; there were many +branching corridors, each with its lines of light. Jerry gave up the +attempt. It was a maze of serpentine streets beyond his power to +remember and recall. + +Before him the passage was still wider. It was opening into a great +room.... Jerry found himself upon the floor. He strained cruelly at +the cords about his head as he twisted and turned to get a view of his +surroundings. + +The room was a cave, its vast vaulted ceiling sprung high above a +level floor, where the figures of men--odd, plaster-white figures like +animated statues--were small in the distance. His eyes were drawn +quickly to the brilliant glow of the farther wall. There was the +bright black of basaltic formation, and in it--though he knew the +impossibility--was shining the sun. + +Jerry blinked his eyes to look again and again; the golden circle was +dazzling. It was set at a point well above the smooth floor, and up to +it there led a sloping pathway of gold. It was as if they had indeed +captured their god, these worshipers of the sun, had captured and held +it for the adoration of the grovelling people. + +Jerry saw them upon the floor. The copper of the armored men gleamed +bright in the glow from beyond, as they abased themselves and crept +slowly toward the light. At each side of the dazzling orb was a +platform. There were figures upon it, seated figures, Jerry saw, even +at a distance, that were robed in vestments of the sun. Their forms +gleamed gold in the light. + + * * * * * + +The leader that Jerry had noted among his captors crept on in advance +of his men. From among the bright figures on the platform above one +rose to extend a glowing arm. He spoke, and the tones rolled +majestically back from the high vault above. The crawling man below +him stopped rigidly where he was. Another word from above, and he rose +slowly to his feet. He stood full in the glow of the captive sun, to +be outlined in black against the brilliance beyond. + +Haltingly he spoke. Then, seeming to gain confidence, he launched into +a torrent of words. He gestured and waved, and, to Foster, the sign +language was plain. He saw reenacted the surprise of the warriors upon +beholding these intruders; saw how they had spied out upon them, using +trunks and branches of the fungus as a screen; saw in pantomime their +own battle with the beasts, then the rush of the armed men to the +rescue. Again the net was thrown, and the gesturing figure turned to +point dramatically where Jerry lay bound, then pounded his armored +chest with unconcealed pride. + +He ceased to speak, and there was utter silence in the room as the +figure above crossed to stand before the golden sun. He too abased +himself before the sign of their god, then rose, to stand motionless, +listening.... + +For a breathless interval he waited before the oracle, then prostrated +himself again and returned to his place. + + * * * * * + +He repeated, it seemed, a command, congratulation, to judge by the +ecstasy of the figure below. The warrior turned once to throw himself +before the image of the sun; he repeated this again and yet again +before he crept back to his fellows. The group arose and rushed +swiftly toward the bound man. + +They brought him quickly into the presence. With scant ceremony Jerry +was unrolled from the net; he lay free and gasping upon the floor. The +men scurried like mad from out the pathway of light that shone down +from the false sun. Jerry rose to his feet; the brilliance before him +almost blinded, but he saw now whence it came. + +There was a hollow in the wall, a great parabola, deep and wide, and +it was lined throughout with beaten gold. In a straight path the light +was reflected from every point--every point but one for at the far +end, where the curved sides joined, was a circle of darkness. It +stared like an eye, evil, portentous. Jerry nerved himself for an +ordeal, unknown but imminent. The black eye glared at him unwinkingly. + +Before him was the pathway of light: it shone brilliantly down the +sloping ramp where a floor of bright gold led up to the sun god +itself. + +The figure on the dais raised its hand. Jerry heard the words come +from its lips and roll sonorously back from above. The figure waited +for an answer. + +Jerry's hands slipped beneath his coat to rest reassuringly upon his +weapons. He withdrew his hands empty and raised one toward the figure +above. + +"I do not understand your words," he said. "Your language is strange. +No doubt mine is as strange to you. I come as a visitor--I am +friendly." He held out both his hands, palms upward. + +"We have come, my friend and myself, on a friendly errand." He paused +to look vainly about for Winslow. "And you have received us as if we +were wild animals." + + * * * * * + +Jerry Foster, of San Francisco, U. S. A., was suddenly resentful of +their treatment. His words were meaningless, but his tones were not. +"You have tied us," he said, "bound us--dragged us before you. Is that +the way you receive your guests from another world?" + +The golden-clad figure stood in majestic silence while Jerry was +speaking. It waited a moment after his outburst, then crossed again to +bow low in the floodlight of gold. As before, it seemed listening to +words from the black heart of the strange sun, words quite +inaudible--soundless. He returned quickly and waved Jerry's attention +to the place of light. + +The sense of a presence there in the central blackness was strong upon +the waiting man. In that other life that now seemed so remote--his +life on earth--Jerry had once felt the threat of a concealed intruder +in the dark. He recalled it vividly now. The sensation was the same. + +But it was magnified. There was no denying the reality of a malign +something at the heart of that golden glow. The black center of it +vibrated with cold and venomous hate. It struck upon the waiting man +like a physical force. His head was swimming, his thoughts refused to +form. He was as if suspended in a great void, where all that was lay +deep in the center of that radiant orb. And it drew him irresistibly +on. + + * * * * * + +Like a dazed bird, held and stricken in the hypnotic gaze of a snake, +Jerry took one stiff, unconscious forward step. Another, and another. +He strove dumbly, helplessly, for realization--there was nothing in +the universe but the certain thing ahead. + +His foot was upon the golden incline leading to his doom, when that +buried something which marks a man--the spark of divinity which sets +him apart as one alone--reasserted itself. + +"I am," he heard his own voice shouting in strangled tones, "I am +Jerry Foster! I am I ... I am myself!" + +He awoke from his stupor with a shock that set every nerve-fiber +quivering. For long minutes he stood silent. Then, realizing his +victory and proving it to his own soul, he looked straight into the +black center of the threatening sun god, and he laughed, loudly and +contemptuously. Then, turning, and with steady stride, he walked +calmly from the light. + +The great hall was silent with a silence that was breathless. Then +pandemonium broke lose. The priests and the god had been defied, and +screaming and shouts rang throughout the vast chamber to re-echo +batteringly from ceiling and walls. There was tumult and confusion +where the populace thronged. Even the figures above on the dais were +milling about in disorder; the rippling gold of their robes made a +spectacle that forced Jerry's involuntary admiration. + +Then one from among them sprang forward. His voice roared above the +shattering din. The room was still. Another order, and the guard of +armed fighting men formed in a circle about the defier of their god. + +Jerry waited. Trouble was about due, he told himself. One hand was on +his pistol, tense and ready. As the ranks stood silent and made no +move to attack, Jerry Foster did a curious thing. + + * * * * * + +It was not done intentionally, but Jerry Foster had nerves, and they +had been under a strain. His hand went unconsciously to his pocket and +extracted a cigarette. There were matches there, too, and he struck +one and lighted the white cylinder. The match made a tiny flame where +he flipped it. + +The whole room whispered and hissed with one loud gasp of amazement, +but the moan that followed, that echoed and resounded from the roof, +was of nothing but horror. Even the warriors drew back in trembling +dismay. And before them the stranger they had brought to the very +portal of their sanctum of holies blew clouds of white smoke that +eddied and whirled as they rose round his head. + +The effect was not lost upon Jerry. And his mind was working. Was fire +unknown to these strange beings? Here in the deep caverns, far from +the surface, was fire a thing of terror to them? He looked back toward +the wall. + +"If they rush me," he thought, "there's a good place to be. That will +feel mighty comfortable at my back." + +He walked slowly, the smoke rising thick about his head. The +copper-clad figures before him withdrew, the ranks parting to let him +through. Unharmed he reached the safety of the wall. The enemy now +formed a semi-circle before him. + +The inertia of the stricken beings on the platform was broken by his +move. Again their head priest gave an order; from another side a +second detachment of armed men came on. They were carrying something. +Jerry leaned forward in quivering preparedness as he saw, in the +floodlight of radiance, the body of Winslow lying on the floor. + + * * * * * + +Was he injured? Dead? The devastating loneliness that swept him at the +sight of the still body was unnerving. He breathed a long sigh of +relief as the lanky figure rose slowly to its feet. Winslow was alive! +They would show these beastly, unearthly humans something yet. + +There was no preparation--no preliminaries. Whether Winslow could have +reacted as Jerry had would never be known. He seemed stunned and +helpless, and it was with no resisting hesitation that he began the +climb to the unknown. + +Jerry's crouching tenseness snapped. No thought of the gun as he +sprang toward the enemy between him and his friend. "No, Winslow--no!" +he shouted as he leaped at the figures in front of him. + +Their strength had seemed startling to Jerry when they had carried him +like a child. He had forgotten his lightness here on this unheavy +world. And he had forgotten his own great strength. + +No panting, exhausted, beaten fighter of beasts was this that hurled +himself against the ranks before him. One coppery sword flashed upward +above his head. Its bearer was seized in two hands that picked him +bodily from the floor and crashed him, a living projectile, among the +others. Jerry waited for no more. There was an opening ahead, and +beyond was Winslow, walking stiffly, certainly, up that damnable +slope. He threw himself in giant leaps across the floor. + +His companion was half-way up the glittering ramp when Jerry seized +him. Holding him in his arms, he leaped outward, to land rolling on +the floor. He was on his feet in an instant. He dragged Winslow to a +standing posture. + +"Wake up, man," he was shouting. "Winslow--wake up!" + + * * * * * + +The onrushing horde was upon them while the tall man was still +brushing his hand over weary eyes, and Jerry, for the moment, had the +fighting to himself. + +No time for anything but parry and strike. He caught one white face on +the jaw; the man went bodily through the air. Jerry landed again and +again. His weapons were his fists, and they did fearful execution. And +he knew, at length, that he was not alone. + +The long arms of the inventor tore a sword from an upraised hand. Its +owner was thrown, as Jerry had thrown one previously, to catapult +among its fellows. + +They were clear for an instant. "Back to the wall!" shouted Jerry. He +had time and room to reach for his pistol, and drew it quickly from +its holster. They backed hastily to the protection of the stone wall. +There were scores upon scores of copper-clad figures that followed +them held out of reach. With a flashing of gold, the head priest +himself sprang to urge on his men. + +"Ready!" said Jerry. "I wish you had a gun! Here! Take this!" He +handed his companion a long-bladed knife, then turned to aim his +pistol with steady hand at the oncoming figure in golden robes. + +The priest stopped for a brief scrutiny of this new menace, then +screamed out an order and hurled himself into the sheltering press of +men. + +Jerry fired into the whirl of bodies. The roar of the forty-five tore +like a battery of siege guns throughout the great room. But the +creatures before them were fighting now in an insane frenzy. Their +bodies pressed the two men to the wall. Jerry fired again, and the +fall of a limp, gold-robed body gave him a thrill of delight. + + * * * * * + +The inventor was holding a white body as a shield, while he thrust +past it incessantly with a red blade. There were huddled figures +before them that lay quiet or crept painfully away. The body of the +head priest was being carried off. + +The dark mouth of a passage had impressed itself upon Jerry; he +remembered it now. It offered a means of escape. + +"Off to your right," he said. "Work off to your right. There's a hole +in the wall--" + +They fought off the struggling eruption of bodies that drove at them. +Jerry was saving his ammunition, but once more he fired as a sword was +falling over Winslow's head. He drove strongly with his left and beat +at the white skulls with the butt of the gun gripped in his other +hand. + +The passage was suddenly behind them. One last stand against the +screaming, frothing faces, and they backed, panting, into the +sheltering dark. Jerry stopped and took Winslow by the arm. + +"Are you hurt?" he demanded. The inventor was too breathless for +reply. + +"Nothing much," he panted, after a moment. "One got me along the +cheek--you shot him just in time. How about you?" + +"O.K.," was the assurance. "But, man, I've been hammered!" + +"What a peach of a fight," he added. "But now what?" + +Winslow laughed mirthlessly in the dark. "This looks like a one-way +street," he said. "We can't go back. + +"Say," he demanded, with sudden, dim recollection. "I remember +something of a dream--a ghastly sort of thing. I was ... I was ... +where was I when you collared me? Where was I headed?" + +"For something too damnable for us to imagine," Jerry stated +emphatically. + +They were walking as rapidly as they dared through the dark passage. +There were high-pitched voices from the rear. From somewhere ahead +came the sound of running water. + +"Too damnable to imagine!" he repeated. "But we'll hunt the vile thing +out if we get a chance, and we'll slaughter--" + +The words ended in a startled exclamation as the ground fell beneath +their feet. They pitched headlong into nothingness-- + + * * * * * + +There was water in Jerry's face as he fell. A torrent engulfed him as +he struck into it, pouring in from a lower passageway to plunge +straight down the shaft. The roaring crash of water tore madly at his +body; his arm was shot through with stabbing pain as Winslow's falling +body was torn from his grasp. + +He was conscious only of his bursting lungs when he came to the +surface from the depths into which he plunged. With one arm he swam +weakly, the other trailing at his side, while he gulped greedily at +the air. + +A voice came hoarsely from a distance. "Foster," it called. +"Jerry--where are you, Jerry?" + +Ah, the good air in his lungs--he could swim more strongly now. He +managed to gasp an answer: "Here, Winslow, over here!" There was a +splashing in response to his voice. He heard it over the noise of the +waters he had been swept away from the cataract. + +A hand was upon him in the dark. "Hurt?" asked the welcome voice. "Can +you swim, Jerry?" + +"A little. One arm's working." + + * * * * * + +The hands fumbled over him quickly, and his good arm was drawn over +the other's back. "Hang on," Winslow told him. "I can swim. I'm half +fish." + +Jerry clung to the folds of the coat. He was light in the water, he +felt--riding high--and the man beside him was swimming with strong +strokes. He released his hold on the other as he felt strength ebbing +back into his body. + +"I can paddle," he said: "but stick around. Where are we going?" + +"In a circle, probably," was the reply, "though I'm trying to hold a +straight course. How big is this lake, I wonder?" + +They swam slowly, saving their strength, but it was a time that seemed +like endless hours before the answer to Winslow's question was found. +Jerry was fighting weakly, exhausted, and the hand supporting him was +failing when they felt sharp rocks against their dragging feet. The +hand that had held him still clung tightly to his shoulder as they +struggled upward and fell together where great rocks gave safety in +the darkness. In his arm the sharp pain had dwindled to numbness; +Jerry Foster asked only for sleep. + +There was light about him when he awoke. In his stupor he had found +again the surroundings he knew so well--the clash and clatter of a +distant city--the roaring traffic--signals, and glowing lights. He +came slowly back to unwelcome reality. The light was there, but it +shone in luminous lines along the wall to illumine the hateful +familiarity of the honeycombed rock that composed the moon. + + * * * * * + +It showed, too, a familiar figure, breathing heavily where it lay on +the far side of the small room. Winslow's face was pale in the dull +light, and his eyes were closed. He was on a thick pallet of soft +fibers and across his body a cloth was spread, shot through with gold +in strange designs. + +Jerry Foster threw aside a robe of the same material that covered him. +He stifled an involuntary word as a twinge of pain shot through his +arm, then crossed noiselessly to shake softly at the shoulder of the +sleeping man. Winslow, too, came slowly from his sleep of complete +exhaustion, but his eyes were clear when they opened. + +"Where are--" he began a question, but Jerry's hand was pressed +quickly against his lips. + +They stared slowly about. The room that held them was in the natural +rock, but whether hewn out by hands or a natural formation they could +not tell. The rock was rotten with perforations, through which air +flowed in a cool stream. + +Jerry came softly to his feet to feel cautiously of the glowing, +luminous mounds along the wall. They were spread upon a ledge. The +light was cold to his touch, the material like fine soil in his hands. + +"Fluorescent," whispered Winslow. "Calcium sulphide, possibly; I saw +them spreading it above ground in the sun. It absorbs light and gives +it off slowly." Jerry nodded; the source of the endless glowing lines +had been puzzling to him. + + * * * * * + +Their whispers ceased at a sound beyond a doorway. In the opening a +figure appeared, tall and erect, the figure of a girl. Her face was +white like the others of these whose lives were lived below the +surface, but there was a kindly softness in the eyes, a refinement and +intelligence of no low order, that contrasted with the cold eyes of +the warriors and the priests. Not beautiful, perhaps, by earth +standards, yet it required no straining of chivalry on Jerry's part to +find her human and lovely. + +In silence the men stood staring. Then Foster, with unconscious +gentleness, made a revealing gesture. This woman--this girl--had saved +them. He knew it without words, and he was wordless to reply. He +dropped swiftly to his knees and pressed a bit of the golden robe +against his lips. + +A flush of scarlet swept across the white face and receded. The hand +dropped from its startled poise and rested, gently, questioningly, on +the brown head bent before her. + +She murmured unintelligible words in a guarded voice as Jerry arose. +"Marahna," she said, and touched her breast lightly. "Marahna." Her +head was erect, the whole attitude imperious, commanding. She +questioned them with swift, liquid words. The men shook their heads in +utter incomprehension. + +Again she spoke, and again they shook their heads. Jerry felt foolish +and dumb. He took his turn at questioning, and this time, with a +trace of a smile, it was the girl's turn to shake her head. She had +mastered one sign at least. + +Pointing toward the great hall they knew was somewhere above, she +reenacted the scene there; she evidently knew what had transpired. And +now Jerry nodded in confirmation. That she approved of the part they +had played was evident. + + * * * * * + +Now she questioned whence they had come. She pointed down, and her +fluttering hands and graceful posture spoke eloquently. She showed +them more than a trace of fear, too, as she marked them coming from +the depths. Jerry shook his head in vehement denial. + +He pointed above, spread his hands wide, tried as best he could to +indicate vast distance beyond. She stared, wide-eyed, then in her turn +knelt as if before a god. + +"She thinks we have come down from the sun," Winslow surmised. "Well, +let it go at that." But Jerry Foster was embarrassed in the strange +role of a god; he raised the humbled, kneeling young woman to her +feet. + +He pointed to her gold-clad figure and repeated the name she had +given. "Marahna," he said. "Marahna!" Then, placing his hand on his +companion, he repeated: "Winslow--Winslow!" And, pointing to himself, +he completed the introduction with: "Foster, Jerry--Jerry Foster!" + +The pale lips formed themselves slowly to the strange and unaccustomed +sounds. + +"Cherrie," she repeated, and smiled in comprehension. "Cherrie." + +This was the first of many lessons, and it was amazing to both men how +rapidly they learned to get their thoughts across. In turn, they +learned to read the messages that the slim hands and graceful, +undulating body conveyed. Even words were linked one by one with their +indicated objects and meanings. + + * * * * * + +One syllable the girl used only in a hushed and awe-stricken tone. It +was "Oong" that she whispered, while her eyes filled with terror and +dread. And they knew this for the name of the horror that waited in +the black center of that unholy place where the pathway of light +ascended. It was later that they learned to read hatred as well as +sheer terror in the emotions that the word _Oong_ aroused. + +The first lesson ended in a soft exclamation from the girl. She +withdrew, to return in a moment with a beaker of hammered gold, filled +with cold water. In her hands, too, were strange fruits and branches +of fungus. She ate bits of them to show they were food. And Jerry, as +he watched her, was aware that he was famished. But the two men ate +sparingly at first of the strange food. + +It was tasteless, they found, except for an elusive flavor, but the +reception of the food in their gnawing stomachs was satisfactory. +Their strength was returning, and with it came hope of release. The +moon-people, evidently, were not altogether villainous. + +"Thank you," said Jerry in a normal tone, "that was--" White fingers +trembled against his lips to enforce silence. + + * * * * * + +The girl listened intently, then stole softly out into the corridor +from which she had come. She motioned the men to follow, and pointed +there in the dim light to a far room. + +There were others, they saw; a group of young women lying at ease on +their pallets, or moving slowly about. The need for quiet was +apparent, more so when the figure of a man appeared as they watched. +Quickly the girl, Marahna, stepped before them and motioned them back +to their room. + +She followed and glanced quickly about. In the farther wall was an +opening, close to the floor, and low, but they managed to work their +way through at her silent command. A passage, much like the others, +lay beyond. It widened and grew higher, until they could stand erect. +Back in the circle of light they saw, for a moment, the man, bowing +low in respect before Marahna. He carried a basket of light that shone +brightly in the room. + +"Replenishing the supply of sulphide," whispered Winslow. + +A current of air came cool and refreshing from a branching tunnel in +the rock. There was no lack of ventilation, as they well knew, +throughout all the tortuous passages, but this came with a scent of +outdoors that set both men a-tingle with hope. Jerry forgot even the +dull ache in his arm as he breathed deep of this messenger from the +outside. + +But exploration must wait. They needed to rest, to learn and to plan. +They returned when Marahna called softly from the room. + + * * * * * + +Time had lost all its meaning. They could only guess at the hours that +had passed since the hour they left their ship, could only make +unanswered surmises as to where was the sun or how much was left of +the long lunar day. They must escape--they would escape--but their one +stroke for freedom must not be made when darkness and paralyzing cold +should force them back into the hands of the enemy tribes. + +Marahna was with them much of the time, and always they struggled and +strove with desperate concentration to grasp at the meanings of the +thoughts she tried to convey. And they learned much. + +Of the passage they believed they had found out to the surface, she +knew little. But she showed them, with doubt in her face, that there +was almost hopeless struggle along that path to the freedom above. +Sadly she touched Jerry's injured arm, and she shook her head in +dejection. + +The arm had had a bad wrench, Jerry found. No fracture, but the +muscles and ligaments had been painfully torn. But Jerry set his teeth +firm at the thought of a possible escape. + + * * * * * + +Once, peering along the dark passage that led to the room where the +others had been seen, the men noticed the deep bows that unfailingly +marked the entrance of Marahna. They questioned her and learned that +here was royalty among the people of the moon. This, as they +considered the proud poise of her head and her whole attitude of +unassuming superiority was not entirely surprising. But they marveled +the more at the truth that she finally made plain to them. + +Marahna, she told them, as plainly as if she were speaking in their +own tongue, Marahna was chosen for death. And her white face was +pitiful and her eyes full of horror as she enacted for them the slow +march she must take up the long golden slope and into the horror that +waited. + +"A sacrifice to that god!" Jerry spoke with dismay. "No, no!" But the +face of the Princess Marahna of the moon people was unutterably sad +with unspoken thoughts as she touched her breast with one slender +finger, then indicated the outer room and showed there were two there +beside herself who were to go. + +"Help us to get out," Jerry begged, and with fierce eagerness he +showed them going through the passage to the outside. "We will come +back, and we will find some way to end all this damnable thing." + +She gave them to understand the time that was left. The sun, she +showed, was long past the meridian and was on its return. The day was +now reaching a close. And then, as the sun set, the great sacrifice +would be made--had always been made--to insure the return of their +god. + + * * * * * + +Their watches were useless, for the water had entered their cases. The +two men waited what they judged was the length of a day, while Jerry +tried to believe that his arm was improving. Then, putting a small +supply of food in their pockets, they were ready for the attempt. + +Jerry saw that his gun and knife were ready at his belt, and patted a +pocket where his matches were safe in their watertight container. The +prospect of escape almost unnerved him. To breathe the clear air; to +stand in the radiant light of the sun--he could understand now how +these people made a god of the sun. He turned to Marahna. + +"Good-by," he said, "but not for long. We'll be back. And we'll save +you, Marahna, we'll save you. Winslow will figure some way to do +it.... We'll be back...." + +The girl was silent. She touched Jerry's arm, and shook her head +slowly, doubtfully. + +He reached for the hand. It trembled, he felt, in his. The impulse to +take the slim form within his arms, to hold her close, was strong upon +him. Would he ever see her again ... would he? + +"Won't you say good-by, Marahna?" he asked. + +But she smiled, instead--a friendly smile, and encouraging. Then +dropped in silence to her knees to press with both her trembling hands +his hand upon her forehead. And, still in silence, she rose to vanish +from the room. + +The men entered the narrow opening to start forward into the dark. But +Jerry Foster was puzzled, puzzled and more than a trifle hurt. Marahna +could at least have said good-by. She knew the word, for he had taught +it to her. And she had let him--them--go.... + +"Oh, well," he thought, "how can I know how a princess feels--a +princess of the moon? And why should I care--why should she? But...." +He refused to complete the thought. He hurried instead, as best he +could, to follow Winslow, fumbling ahead of him in the dark. + + * * * * * + +Jerry had used plenty of muttered invective with the massage he had +given his arm, but he cursed his handicap wholeheartedly at the end of +some several hours. + +They were standing, he and Winslow, in a dark tunnel. They had climbed +and clawed their way through the absolute dark, over broken fragments, +through narrow apertures, down and up, and up again through a +tortuous, winding course. And now they had reached the end. They had +found the source of the fresh air, had come within reaching distance, +it seemed, of sunlight and all that their freedom might mean. And they +had come, too, to a precipitous rock wall. + +They stared long and hopelessly at the shaft that reached, vertical +and sheer, high, high over their heads. And a curse like that of +Tantalus was theirs. For, far at the top, slanting in through some +off-shooting passage, there was sunlight. It was unmistakable in its +clear glare, beautiful, glorious--and unattainable. + +There were roughnesses in the wall, footholds, handholds here and +there. "It might be ... it might be...." Jerry tried to believe, but +the ache in his arm made the thought hopeless and incomplete. He +turned to his companion. + +"I believe you can do it," he said steadily. + + * * * * * + +Winslow's dark eyes were gleaming in the dimness that surrounded. +"Possibly," he replied, and eyed the ascent with an appraising stare. +"Even probably. But you know damn well, Foster, that I'm not going to +try." + +"Don't be an ass." Jerry's tone was harsh, but the tall man must have +known what emotions lay underneath. + +"We'll play it out together," he said. + +Jerry was silent as he reached in the darkness for Winslow's hand. + +"Of course I knew you were that sort," he said. He waited a moment, +then added: "But you're going, old man, you're going. Don't you see +it's our only hope?" + +Winslow shook his head emphatically. Jerry could see him in the dim +reflection from that radiance above. "Nothing doing," the calm voice +assured him. "Don't bother to think up more reasons why I should +desert." + +"Listen!" Jerry gripped roughly at the other's shoulder. "Listen to +reason. + +"If you go and I go back there, what will happen? With Marahna gone we +are helpless, and we will be helpless to save her. The long night is +ahead. How can we live? Where can we live? We will be wiped out as +sure as we're alive this minute. + +"If you go--and if you make it to the ship--there's a chance. Alone, I +may manage to stick it out." He knew he was lying, knew that the other +knew it too, but he went on determinedly. "You can wait for me up +above. My arm will be well--" Winslow stopped him with a gesture. + +"There's a chance," the older man was muttering, "there's a +chance...." He swung quickly toward Foster, to grab hard at the good +right hand. + +"I'm going," he stated. "I'm on my way. I won't say good-by; what's +the use--I'll be back soon!" + +He released his hold on Jerry to leap high in the air for a ledge of +projecting rock. He caught it and hung. His foot found a toehold and +he drew himself up to where another rough outcrop gave grip for his +hand. + +Jerry Foster stood frozen to throbbing stillness. Words were +strangling in his throat, an impulse, almost irresistible, to call. If +there were only a rope.... + +He was still silent when the tiny figure of his companion and friend +was lost in the heights, where it vanished into that tunnel from which +came the light. He turned blindly, to stumble back into the dark. + + * * * * * + +Marahna was waiting when he regained the safety of her room. "Safety!" +The thought was bitter when linked with the certain fate that lay +ahead. + +Silently she stroked the bent head of the man who dropped dejectedly +upon the hard stone floor. Her fingers were gentle, comforting, +despite the utter hopelessness and discouragement that lay heavily +upon him. + +They sat thus, nor counted the flying minutes, while the fog of +despair in the mind of the beaten man was clearing. He raised his head +finally to meet the look in the dark eyes. And he managed a smile, as +one can who has thought his way through to the bitter end and has +faced it. He patted the hand that had stroked his bowed head. + +"It's all right," he said gently. "What is to be, will be--and we +can't change it. And it's all right somehow." + +His sleeping, during their long stay, had been a cause for amusement +to Marahna, whose habits were tuned to the long days and nights on the +moon. And he was sleepy now, sleepy and tired. She spread the robe +over him as he rested on the soft fiber bed. + +He awoke from a deep sleep with a light heart. For Jerry Foster, as he +faced his own certain death, had seen certain things. It was the +end--that was one fact he couldn't evade. But he grinned cheerfully, +all by himself in that strange cheerless room, as he thought of what +else he had visioned. + +"And it will be just one hell of a fight," he said softly aloud. +"There will be some of those priests that will know they have been in +a war." + + * * * * * + +He examined again the knife and the automatic, and counted the +cartridges left in the magazine. There were more he had found in a +pocket of his coat, enough to replace those he had fired. He slipped +the pistol into its holster at the sound of soft footsteps +approaching. + +It was Marahna who entered, a strange and barbaric Marahna. She was +clad in a garment of spun gold that enveloped her tall figure. It +trailed in rippling beauty on the floor--draped in resplendence her +slim body, to end in soft folds about a head-dress that left Jerry +breathless. + +Her face was entirely concealed. The gold helmet covered her head. It +was tall, made entirely of hammered gold in which spirals of jewels +reflected their colors of glittering light. She was quite +unrecognizable in the weird magnificence. + +Only her voice identified the figure. She murmured chokingly some soft +words, then raised her head with its barbaric helmet proudly high as +she concluded. There were words become familiar now to Jerry. Together +with the spectacle she presented, her meaning was more than plain. + +"The time has come," she was telling him. "The sun ... the hour of +sacrifice." + +Jerry leaped to his feet. His plans for battle were being revised. An +idea--a plan, half-formed--was beating in his brain. + +A sound was beating upon him, too. There were drums that throbbed in +steady unison, that echoed hollowly along resounding walls, that +approached in loudly increasing cadence. + + * * * * * + +The plan was complete. "No!" said Jerry Foster, with a wild laugh. He +reached to remove the golden helmet. + +He placed it upon his own head, under the startled gaze of the +wondering girl. He reached out for the robe. + +"You shall not go," he told her. "I will go in your place. And when I +reach that room...." His eyes were savage behind the slits in the +golden head-dress. + +"No--no!" the girl protested. Her face showed plainly the complete +hopelessness of what Jerry proposed. To pit himself against that +antagonist--she knew how futile was the brave gesture. + +Jerry was undaunted. "I've got to die anyway," he tried to explain, +"and if I can get in one good crack at whatever is there--well, I may +be of help." + +His hand was taking off the cloak. Marahna's eyes were steady upon +him. She ceased to resist. She whipped one of the covers from the +couch about her and helped him with the golden robe. + +The throbbing of drums was hammering at Jerry's temples. They were +close at hand! Marahna, without a word, rushed frantically back toward +the room where the others waited. + +And again Jerry Foster felt that odd tightening of disappointment +about his heart. But what was the difference, he told himself, in a +hundred years--or a hundred minutes. He set his lips tight and walked +slowly out and down the passage. + +The room he entered was deathly quiet. There were figures standing +about, figures robed in their gold-threaded drapes, that stared +strangely, wonderingly, at him, and drew themselves into a huddled +group against the wall. And two there were, who stood apart: the other +victims--their sacrificial garments wrapped them round where they +waited for the third who was to accompany them. Jerry joined them as a +guard came in from the outer hall. + + * * * * * + +The drums were rolling softly in their rhythmic beat. The priests who +entered showed annoyance at the delay; they gave a curt order, and +motioned the three to follow. + +Outside, the corridor was broad, and the double rows of lights on +either side glowed brightly to illumine a pageant grotesque and +terrible in its barbaric splendor. The drums throbbed louder. Jerry +saw them in their fire of burnished metal, beaten by the bands of +naked men. Beyond, a group of warriors waited. Stalwart and strongly +muscled, they stood erect in copper armor beside a platform of metal +bars, whose floor was of latticed gold. The victims were placed upon +it to stand erect. Jerry balanced himself upon the golden floor as the +warriors raised it slowly to their shoulders. + +Priests, in robes of heavy golden rope, were ranged about; they formed +a guard and escort ten deep about the living sacrifice. At that the +drums increased their volume, and to this was added a nerve-racking, +discordant and rasping jangle, when sheets of copper, paper-thin, were +struck with a heavy hand. The pulsing, throbbing pandemonium was +terrific as the march began. + +Slowly they made their way through a winding gallery. Slowly they came +to where a portal, high-arched, gave entrance upon the great hall. +Solemnly, proudly, the priests lead the way as they circled the vast +room. Their wrappings of gold were a scintillant quiver of light; +above each hard face a circle of gold--symbol of the sun--was borne +imperiously high. + + * * * * * + +The priestly guard surrounded the platform where the three standing +figures were huddled. And behind, and on either side, the men with the +drums and the discordant, ringing sheets gave full force to their +blows. The high vault above thundered and roared to the thunder and +roar of the drums. And, high over all, a wailing began. + +The thin shrillness beat with the tempo of the drums in a pitch that +steadily descended. The glittering procession had come to rest at its +appointed place in the pathway, of light as the wailing came down to a +moan. "_Oong! Oong!_" the voices groaned, while the walls re-echoed +the despairing tones. Only from the band of warriors did the ear of +Jerry Foster detect anything but misery and despair. The priests were +silent, but the warriors, in their shining armor, stood erect and +roared out the syllables in exultant joy. + +The priests were now upon the dais--the rocky platform, divided by the +great, glowing parabola of light. They stood erect as a new high +priest, replacing the one Jerry had killed, crossed to bow and grovel +in the radiance from their god. + +The room was silent with the silence of a great tomb as the march of +death began. Softly, from the silence, the drums resumed the merest +whisper of their former thunderous booming. Beside him. Jerry heard +the soft sobs of a girl. One of the figures swayed and threatened to +fall as the platform was lowered to rest upon the floor. The other +pressed close to support the drooping figure. + + * * * * * + +Now the entire directed ray of light from the round, glowing hole +struck full upon them. It blinded and dazzled, yet, plain and +distinct, Jerry saw at its heart the circle of blackness, the eye of +the mysterious, hypnotic parabola--the entrance to what lay beyond. + +The beat of the drums was hypnotic. As if in a trance he saw, at the +side of the way they must go, the form of the head priest beckon them +on. The two victims at his side took one step on the path to their +death. And the same stiff rigidity held Jerry as he, too, moved onward +and up the golden ramp. + +The drums were bearing them on. Louder they throbbed in a steady +crescendo, to carry the three rigid figures a step at a time up the +pathway of light. + +The priest, Jerry felt more than saw, was beside them. Close ahead was +the blackness that held the set stare of his eyes. One of the golden +figures was before him. He saw the priest reach out to take the helmet +from her head. + +The movement aroused him from his numb horror. An impulse to escape +surged through him; every nerve was tense and ready for a spring. He +looked quickly about. The warriors were behind, the priests ready on +their platform to direct them. And in the doorway, from where he first +had seen this chamber, on the only way he knew that led to freedom, +another figure, tall in its priestly robes, blocked the passage. + + * * * * * + +Hopeless, he knew. And then there swept through him a wave of hate. Gone +was his horror, and gone the dull deadness of brain and body. There, facing +him, was the mouth of the pit, where waited a something--horrible, +rapacious--demanding the lives of these people ... of Marahna ... of +others--more and yet more. + +No thought now of life or escape. For the moment, Jerry Foster's whole +being held nothing but hot hate, and the wish for revenge. + +Before him the priest was stripping the robe from the girl at his +feet. She stood like a statue, a carving of purest alabaster, slim and +erect in her white, slender nakedness. And the face that he saw +through incredulous eyes was that of Marahna. + +Marahna! The realization and quick understanding held him spellbound. +She had come, had taken the robes from another poor victim ... to be +with him in this, the last hour.... + +Marahna--a princess among these strange folk--was giving her life when +another could have been in her place. And she smiled tremulously, +bravely, as her eyes locked with his, as, speechless and spellbound, +he stared through the eyelets of gold. + +The priest was reaching for his head-dress, Jerry tensed. The moment +had come. + + * * * * * + +He was ready. As the weight left his shoulders, he dropped, with one +swift movement, his golden disguise. The robe fell in folds at his +feet. He stared in silence, through narrowing eyes, at the face of the +head priest above him. Then, leaping straight up, he fastened one +hand, sinewy, sun-browned and strong, on the white neck below the +white face. They crashed back, to land on the ramp and roll, +struggling, toward the edge. + +Jerry's hold never slackened. He felt his fingers sink deep in the +flesh. He came to his knees, then up, to hold the writhing figure at +arm's length. Then, heaving with all his strength, he whipped the man +into the air, to drag him in one leaping bound for the sheltering +darkness beyond. + +A figure was entering with him--a slim, naked figure, with glowing and +worshipping eyes. + +Behind them the silence was shattered. Jerry saw, as he stepped from +the light, the riot of figures that surged in hysterical frenzy +through the great hall. The priests were leaping among them ... the +tall priest who had guarded the door was fighting his way through the +mob. + +Jerry loosed his quivering hand from the throat it held. He cast the +figure from him. And he blinked his eyes to make them serve him in the +blackness all about. + +Beside him, a form, invisible in the dark, was stroking at his face, +and a voice was whispering tremulously: "Cherrie ... Cherrie!" + + * * * * * + +The tumult in the great hall reached them but faintly. Jerry Foster +strove desperately to focus his eyes in that darkness of utter night. +A dim glow from the portal crept softly in to bring faint illumination +to the farther wall. Slowly his eyes found that which they feared yet +sought. + +Off in the dark, directly opposite the entrance, was a white and +ghostly thing. Formless and vague, it wavered and blurred to his +straining eyes. He fumbled clumsily for a match, one of his treasured +store. He must see--he must know what was waiting-- + +The match flared to a point of brilliance in the murky gloom. It +showed, on the floor where they stood, a litter of dried +vegetation--food, doubtless placed there as an offering. It was dry +now, and dusty, and through it there shone the bleak whiteness of +bones. Beyond was the floor, and beyond that.... The whiteness that +had been but a blur grew sharply distinct. + +Jerry could not have told what he expected the light to disclose. +Certainly it was not the heaping of coils, milk-white and ghastly, +that took shape before his staring eyes. Above them a head hung in +air. It was motionless--lifeless, almost--like the coiled body that +held it. But the eyes, black and staring, in the bloated, bulging +head, made its poised stillness the more deadly. + +Even in the dark Jerry had sensed the hypnotic spell of unseen eyes. +Visible, they held him in a rigid, unreasoning terror. Unreal, +unthinkable, this serpentlike horror, tremendous and ghastly in its +loathsome whiteness. A dweller in the dark, used by the priests as a +symbol and a threat for the ignorant folk who trusted and believed +them. And it held him, stilled and stricken, in its evil spell. + + * * * * * + +The flame was scorching Jerry's hand that nervelessly opened to +release the match. The man was like a statue, frozen to mental +deadness. About his feet a light was playing, unseen. A bit of the dry +stuff sprang brightly to yellow flame. Neither seeing nor feeling, the +figure of Jerry Foster stood, held in the deadly magic of the +malignant eyes. + +Dimly he sensed that the prostrate body on the floor was that of +Marahna. Vaguely he knew when the form of the priest took a halting +step forward. The fire his match had kindled was rising about his +feet. The flames seared and stabbed with a pain that reached his +dulled brain. Quivering and shaken, the body of Jerry Foster reacted +again to a conscious thought. He leaped quickly as the deadly witchery +left him, and he tore at the smoldering cloth about his legs. + +And now he knew the thing before him for what it was. Shocking in its +gigantic size, more so in the concentrated venom of its gaze, it was +the flabby, scaly and crusted whiteness of the thing that filled his +being with a deadly nausea. He stared with a sickened fascination at +the flabby, drooping pouches beside the mouth, the distorted, bulging +head and the short legs, armed with long, curving talons--legs that +sprang from out the neck to clutch and tear at what the jaws might +hold. + +Deadly and hateful--loathsome beyond all imagining--still Jerry Foster +found it was something a man could meet. Its devilish power to +paralyze and still the soul of him was gone. + +He snatched quickly for the gun at his belt and knelt to aim--then +checked his finger on the trigger. The figure of the priest had come +between him and the monster. + + * * * * * + +The golden robe was dragging. It fell to the floor, to gleam dully in +the flickering light of the fire. Against the heaping coils of white +the priest was outlined, drawn, as Jerry sensed, against the protest +of every fiber of his being. Yet, one stiff step at a time, he went +faltering on. The hair above his white face was torn in disarray. And +the face itself, so exultantly fierce in its hour of triumph, now a +mask of quivering, hopeless terror. + +The head of the monster came slowly to life. It raised and raised into +the air. The mouth gaped open with a hoarse, sucking sound, then +struck, like a whip of light, at the doomed priest. + +His screams, as the thing descended upon him, rang through the roar of +the forty-five. Jerry fired again where the black eyes showed above +the writhing body of their prey. The head jerked backward, to tower in +the darkness overhead. The mouth disgorged its contents to the floor. + +Only for a shuddering instant did the monster pause. Then it launched +its great bulk in a counter-attack, while the automatic poured out the +rest of its futile lead. + +The gun was knocked from his grasp as the great head smashed past, +swerved from its aim by the blinding bullets. Jerry knew only that his +knife was in his hand as the great scabrous coils closed +inevitably about him. + +Vaguely he heard the shouting from behind as the writhing folds +engulfed him. He stabbed blindly at the scaly mass; again and again +his knife ripped slashingly at the abhorrence that drew him close. +Then his arm, too, was caught in the crushing loathsome embrace.... + + * * * * * + +He felt no pain--the pressure alone was insufferable. His head was +drawn back. Above him the horrible eyes glared into his--there was +blood dripping from the jaws.... + +He saw it in the brilliance of a light that flashed in blue heat +overhead. There came in his ears a vast roaring of sound, a great +heat-blast that scorched and burned at his face. The crushing pressure +was relaxed. He went reeling to the floor, as the great coils whirled +high into the air. + +He was stunned by the fall, his body inert and relaxed. But he knew +through it all that from somewhere above there was shrieking of +gas--blue, roaring fires--a flame that tore blastingly into a writhing +contortion beyond. + +The tall figure of a priest was bending over him, but it was the voice +of Winslow that was in his ears--a blessed, human voice--when he +awoke. + +"Thank God, I made it," the voice was saying, over and over. "Thank +God, I found the ship and got back here in time!" + +There was light within the cavern. The burning fungus was extinguished +by the smothering coils that had crashed upon it, but beyond was a +waving plume of yellow where a blue flame shot against a wall of rock. + +And Jerry, through the stress and riot of emotion that overwhelmed +him, laughed chokingly, wildly, at the words of his companion. + +"It is sodium," Winslow was saying in explanation, as he saw Jerry's +eyes resting on the light. "A hydrogen flame, but there's sodium in +the rocks that turns the flame yellow. I rigged up a flame-thrower of +hydrogen." + +"You would," Jerry gasped through hysterical laughter. "You would do +just that, and make your way back to this hell just to save me--you +damn fool inventor!" + + * * * * * + +He clung to Winslow, who was raising him to his feet. Marahna was +beside him, robed in the golden garment of the priest. She placed her +hands beside his face to turn him toward the further wall. The light +was fickle, but it showed him, as it rose and fell, the blackened, +swollen body of the monster, still writhing in its death struggle. And +beside it, blasted and charred, the head of the obscene sun god, +severed by the cutting, obliterating blast, lay flabby and black in a +silent heap. + +"Rather effective," said Winslow complacently, "though I didn't have +much to work with. Two small vials of my liquid and a hand generator +to furnish the current. A tubular strut from the frame of the ship +made the blow-pipe." + +"And these?" Jerry questioned, and pointed to the priest's vestments +that Winslow still wore. + +"Oh, it was all quiet up above," said the inventor, "and I came down +the rope. But there was one of them waiting at the bottom. He didn't +need these any more when I left, so I took them to help get about--" + +He stopped, to cross quickly and pick up the flame-thrower as the +flame died away. It roared as he worked at the mechanism, then +dwindled again. Its light, for an instant, was reflected in a liquid +on the floor. + +"Broken!" said Winslow in an anguished voice. "The vials are +gone--smashed! And I counted on this to hold off the mob, to get us +safely out...." + +He regarded the instrument with silent dismay. The blue flame, as he +held it, flickered and died. + +"Not so good!" said Jerry slowly. He stopped to retrieve the knife. +This, he reflected, was their sole weapon of defense. In the dim light +his eyes met with Winslow's in mutual comprehension of their plight. + + * * * * * + +There were caverns beyond, dark and forbidding. Did they lead to the +outer world? Or, instead, was it not probable that they went to some +deep, subterranean dens, from which this monster had learned to come +at the priests' summons? Jerry put from his mind all thought of escape +in that direction. + +"And Marahna, too," he told Winslow. "What will become of her?" + +The girl got the essence of the question. Fumbling for phrases that +they knew, she made them believe that she was safe. Her people, she +told them, would protect her. + +"Yes," Jerry agreed. "I guess that's right. She's a princess, you +know," he reminded Winslow, "and the great mass of the people look up +to her. Only the priests and warrior gangs will be opposed. But how +can we get through them?" + +The question was unanswered. + +"We've got to knock them cold some way," said the inventor. "Got to +give them a fright that will last till they let us get through. Once +at the big shaft where we came down, we can make our getaway. But how +to do it...." His voice died away in dismal thought. + +Jerry's eyes were casting about. The priest's robe? No, not good +enough. It had brought Winslow through, but it couldn't take them +back. Marahna? No help there: she had enough to do to protect herself +from the fury of the priests. + + * * * * * + +His eyes rested again on the steaming, blackened mass that still +showed the horrible features that had marked the head of the monster. +The sun god! There was an idea there. + +"Come!" he said to Winslow, and walked swiftly across to the severed +head. + +He had to steel his nerves before he could lay hands upon the vile +thing. The paws were still attached behind the head. He took a grip on +one and pulled. The great mass moved. + +"I don't get the idea," said Winslow. + +"Nor I," Jerry admitted, "but there's an idea here." His thoughts were +racing in the moment's silence. + +"I've got it," he shouted. "I've got it! If only I can make Marahna +understand!" He led the girl nearer to the door, where his signs +could be seen more plainly. + +"You," he told her, "go out there." He pointed to the place where the +priests had stood. "Tell your people"--he took the attitude of the +orator declaiming to his audience--"we have come here from the sun." +Again his signs were plain. Marahna nodded. This plainly was literal +truth to her. + +"Tell them," he continued earnestly, "we have saved them from this +thing. Tell them it was no sun god, but a monster that the priests had +kept. Monster!" he exclaimed, and pointed to the head and to the body +that still writhed and jerked spasmodically. "No god--no!" And again +the girl showed her understanding. Her eyes were glowing. + +"Then," said Jerry, indicating Winslow and himself, "we will take the +head that they have worshipped, and we'll drag it out and throw it to +the priests." His gestures were graphic. The girl nodded her head in +an ecstasy of comprehension. + +"And then," Jerry added softly for Winslow's hearing, "we'll beat it. +And, with luck, we'll make it safe." + +"There's a chance," said Winslow softly, "there's a chance--and that's +all we ask." + + * * * * * + +"It's up to you, Marahna," Jerry told her. His words were meaningless, +but the tone sufficed. She drew herself proudly erect, wrapped herself +closely in the robe of braided gold, and stepped firmly and fearlessly +through the portal and down toward the platform of the priests. + +The two men watched from the shadows. Beyond the outline of the +platform they saw the warrior clans, a phalanx of protecting bodies. +And beyond, drawn back in huddled consternation, were masses of +white-faced people--Marahna's people--who listened, now, in wondering +silence to their princess. + +Marahna made her way slowly to the platform's edge. Of all the +countless ones to have gone that road, she was the first ever to +return. She stood silent, while her eyes found their way scornfully +over the enemy below. Then looking beyond them, she began to speak. + +Her soft voice echoed liquidly throughout the room. She gestured, and +Jerry knew that she was giving them the message. + +From the priests there came once a hoarse, inarticulate growl of hate +and unbelief. She silenced them with her hand. She pointed to the +heavens, and she told them of the sun and of the two who were true +children of the sun, who had come to save them from their false god. + + * * * * * + +Her voice rose as she told her people in impassioned tones that which +she had seen. And she was shouting above the tumult of the priests and +pointing directly at them as she made the roof echo with the message: +"_Oong devah! Oong devah!_" + +"The god is dead," translated Jerry. "_Devah_ means death; she said +that of herself before we left. Come on!" he shouted, and laid-hold of +one great claw. "It's our turn now." + +Winslow was tugging at the other foot. Between them they dragged into +the light the obscene burden. Down the long ramp they took it and off +upon the platform of the priests, where Marahna waited. + +The priests, as Jerry's quick glance showed, were milling wildly +about. It seemed that a charge was soon to follow, but the commotion +ceased as the two men come upon the platform, hauling between them the +great scorched head of "Oong." The vast hall was without movement or +sound as they made their way out to the front. Jerry stood erect and +faced the crowd. + +He pointed, as had Marahna, toward the sun somewhere above those thick +masses of rock; he traced it in its course across the sky; he pointed +to Winslow and himself. And in loudest tones he roared throughout the +room his message. "Oong," he shouted, "_Oong devah!_" + +"I'll count three," he whispered in the utter silence. "Then let 'er +go!" + +Again he took a firm hold on the flabby paw. + +"One," he whispered, and swung his body with the word. "Two ... and +_three_!" + + * * * * * + +The men heaved mightily upon the gruesome horror. The head swung +ghastly in scorched whiteness into the air. The dead jaws fell open as +it crashed downward among the huddled, stricken priests. + +"This way!" commanded Winslow. He had been carefully appraising the +openings in the crowd. "And don't hurry! Remember, you're a god to +them--or something a darn sight worse." + +Heads proudly erect, the two strode firmly down the pathway of golden +light. The room was silent as the few they met fell back in cringing +fear. Slowly, interminably, the long triumphal march was made across +the rocky cavern of the moon. + +Not till they reached the portal did the silence break. The shrieks of +the priests and the clashing of copper were behind them, as they +vanished with steady steps from out the room. + +"Now run!" ordered Winslow. "Run as if the devils from hell were after +you--and I think they are!" The two tore madly down the corridor whose +double rows of brightness made possible their utmost speed. + +There was the narrowing of the passage--Jerry remembered it--where +they came out at the foot of the great shaft, the dead throat of the +volcano. Behind them the shrieks and clamor echoed close. A rope was +dangling from far up at the top. + +Jerry leaped for it before he recalled the condition of his arm. In +the excitement of the encounter he had forgotten that the arm was +still in no shape for a long hand-over-hand climb. + +"I can't make it," he said, and looked about quickly. There were +baskets of fungus growth, already dried from the heat of the mid-day +sun that had shone where it grew. He dragged one to the narrow part of +the tunnel. Winslow tugged at another and threw it up as a barricade. +A chalk-white figure in copper sheathing was clambering upon it as he +worked at another of the nets. + + * * * * * + +Jerry let go the fiber basket he was dragging and drew his knife as he +sprang to meet the assault. A sharp cutting edge was unknown to these +workers in copper. Jerry slipped under the raised bludgeoning copper +weapon to plunge the knife into a white throat. Then, without a look +at the body he helped Winslow, struggling with another load. + +They completed the barricade. A heap of fungus made a raised place +where Jerry leaped. Commanding the top of the pile that blocked the +choked throat of the passage, he was ready for the next figure that +leaped wildly up. + +It would take them a while, Jerry saw, to learn of this scintillant +death that struck at them from close quarters. His knife flashed again +and again as he took the men one at a time and let their limp bodies +roll back to the passage beyond. + + * * * * * + +The assault was checked when Jerry shouted to his companion. "Tie the +rope around me," he ordered, "up under my arms ... then you go on up. +When you get there pull up--and for the Lord's sake pull fast!" + +"Go on," he shouted. "I can hold them for a while--" He turned swiftly +to take a leaping body upon the red point of his knife. + +He felt the rope about him as he fought, knew by its twitching when +Winslow started the long climb, and prayed dumbly for strength to hold +his weak fortress till the other could hoist himself up to the top. + +He was fighting blindly as they came on in endless succession, the +figures of frenzied priests leaping grotesquely beyond. Only the +strategic position he had taken allowed him to turn the wild assault +again and again. They could only reach him by ones and twos, but the +end must come soon. There were priests tearing at the foot of the +barricade.... The cold winds that came down from above revived him, +but it helped the figures ripping at the fiber cords. The dry fungus +fragments whirled gaily away and down the passage in the wind. + +The wind! The draft was blowing from him, directly upon his attackers. +Jerry struggled and clinched with another that bounded beside him, and +knew as he fought that a weapon was at hand. His knife found the lower +edge of copper, and the figure screamed as he rolled it down the +slope. He slipped the knife into his left hand as he fumbled with his +right. + + * * * * * + +His precious matches! He struck one on the rock; it broke in his +trembling fingers. Another--there were so few left. He drew it with +infinite care on the surface of rock. The figures below tore in frenzy +at the weakening barricade, while yet others stood waiting at this +sign of some new form of magic. + +They shouted again, as they had when, those long days ago, he had +lighted a cigarette before their horrified gaze. Jerry shielded the +tiny blaze in his hand to bring it beneath a papery leaf beside him. + +The flame flashed and dwindled. He dared not drop back to set fire to +the base of the heap. But even in the exhaustion and strain of the +moment Jerry Foster still knew the value of the showman's tricks in +reaching the fears of these white-faced fighters. + +With grandiloquent gesture he raised another of the tindery fragments +and ignited it from the first. Another, and he had the beginning of a +fire. He lit another piece, and, when he had it blazing, dropped it +behind him and kept on with the show. + +A large piece became a flaming torch, and he waved it before him and +laughed to see the warriors cringe. A cloud of smoke was billowing +about him--he leaped to safety through a rising wall of flame. + +The rear slope of the barricade became a furnace; the wind behind him +swept the smoke clouds down the passage. He heard, and sank back +weakly on the ground as it came to him, the screaming riot where a mob +of terrified warriors fought and struck to turn the horde that +clamored behind them and pushed them on. The blast roared over the +heaped fuel and poured downward from the crest. The noise of the +retreat went silent in the distance. + + * * * * * + +Spent and exhausted, Jerry Foster lay panting upon the stone floor. +The breath of cold and life came down the long shaft from the crater. +Had Winslow gained the top? Was he equal to the climb? Jerry hardly +felt the jerking of the rope about his shoulders, but he knew as, in +frantic haste, it drew him scraping up the long side of the shaft. + +The biting cold above revived him, and again a scene of desolation was +spread before his eyes. Winslow fumbled with the knots and released +him from the rope. + +"Come on!" he shouted, and extended a helping hand as they leaped and +raced across the rocky floor. + +Jerry again was vividly, strongly alive as the cold winds swept him. +He leaped hugely through the whirling wisps of dried out +vegetation--the sun had stripped the surface of every living thing. +Again the rocky slopes rose naked in the rosy light of evening. The +sun was hidden below a distant range of jagged hills. The long night +was begun. + +"You're going the wrong way," Jerry shouted. "We left it over there." +He stopped to point where the sun had set. "See, that's where we +fought the beasts--" + +"Come on!" repeated Winslow. "Hurry! We mustn't lose out now. I flew +the ship over this way while I was up here before." + +A ridge of rock cut off the view where Winslow pointed. "Bully for +you!" Jerry shouted and turned to follow. They stopped as the slope +ahead, from its multitude of honeycomb caverns, erupted men. + + * * * * * + +The priests were ahead, and behind them swarmed their men. Vindictive +and revengeful, the wily enemy was fighting to the end. The two +stopped in consternation. + +"What's the use!" demanded Jerry. His voice was tired, utterly +hopeless. "And the ship's right over there...." + +"A million miles away," said Winslow slowly, "as far as we're +concerned." The army was sweeping down the long slope: they had found +their quarry. There were other figures, too, pouring from the throat +of the volcano--white, naked figures that swarmed in growing numbers +and rushed across upon them from the rear. + +"Trapped," said Jerry Foster savagely, "and we almost made it." He +rose wearily to his feet. "We'll take it standing." + +The armored warriors were approaching; in leaping triumph they raced +to be the first ones at the death. The shouts of the priests were +ringing encouragement in their ears. + + * * * * * + +But the leaders from the rear were nearer. One deep breath Jerry drew +as he turned to meet them. Then stared, astonished, as the figures +swept past. They streamed by in confusion. They were armed with rocks, +with clubs or copper metal--some even carried bars of gold above their +heads. They came in a great swarm that swept past and beyond them. And +they met, like an engulfing wave, the bounding figures of the men in +copper. Smothered and lost were the warriors in the horde that poured +increasingly on. + +The wave, before Jerry's eyes, swept on over the crest, while he still +stood in amazed unbelief at the battle that raged. + +It was Marahna who brought understanding. He turned to see her kneel +in sobbing, thankful abasement at his feet. + +Marahna! Her people! She had saved them! There was time needed for the +full force of the truth to banish the hopeless despair from his heart. +Then he stooped to raise the crouching figure with arms that were +suddenly strong. + + * * * * * + +The pale rose light of the departed sun above shone softly within a +rocky valley of the moon. It tipped the tall crags with lavender hues, +and it touched with soft gleaming reflections a blunted cylinder of +aluminum alloy. + +The valley was silent, save for the hushed whispers of wondering +thousands who peopled the enclosing hills, and the rushing roar from +the cylinder itself where the inventor was testing his machine. + +There were figures in priestly robes--scores of them--and they were +surrounded by a white throng that, silent and watchful, held them +captive. + +Beyond, in the open, where bare rock made a black rolling floor, there +were two who stood alone. The golden figure of a girl, and beside her, +Jerry Foster, in wordless indecision. + +Behind him was the ship. Its muffled thunder came softly to his +unheeding ears. He looked at the girl steadily, thoughtfully. + +Gone was all trace of her imperious dignity. The Princess Marahna was +now all woman. And Jerry, looking into her dark eyes, read plainly the +yearning and adoration in their depths. The Princess Marahna had +forgotten her deference to the god in her love for the man. The tale +was told in her flushed face, openly, unashamed. + +And his gray eyes were thoughtful and tender as he gazed into hers. He +was thinking, was Jerry Foster, of many things. And he was weighing +them carefully. His hand clasped and unclasped at something safely +hidden in his pocket. He had taken it from his pack; he had wanted +something for Marahna, something she would treasure. + + * * * * * + +And now she was offering him herself. He could take her with him, take +her to that far-off world that she never dreamed existed. He could +show her the things of that world, its wonders and beauties. He could +train her in its ways. He would watch over her, love her.... And she +would be miserable and heartsick for the sight of this awful +desolation. He knew it--he told himself it was the truth--and he hated +himself for the telling. + +The voice of Winslow aroused him. The inventor had come from his ship. +"We had better be starting," he said. + +The slim figure of the girl in her robe of pure gold trembled visibly. +She knew, it was plain, the import of the words. She spoke rapidly, +beseechingly, in her own tongue. The words were liquid music in the +air. Then, realizing their impotence, she resorted to her poor +vocabulary of their own strange sounds. + +"No!" she said, and shook her head vehemently. "No--no!" + +She motioned to wait, and she called loud and clear across the silence +to her own people. There was a stir about the priests. One in the +robes and head-dress of the high priest was brought forward, led by +two others of her men. They stopped a few steps from her and bowed +low. + +Again she called, and the leaders among the vast throng came, too, and +made their obeisance before her. + + * * * * * + +She turned then to Jerry. And now it was Marahna, Princess of the +Moon, who stood quiet and poised before him. The light, he saw, made +soft wavelets of radiance in her hair, and her eyes were still glowing +and tender. She stepped forward toward the priest. + +The helmet of the sun god was upon his head. It marked him, Jerry +knew, as the master of their world. True, they had bowed in +submission to that other master, whose vile head lay horrible and +harmless on the floor of the great hall--they had believed in the +commands the priests had pretended to receive from him--but this +emblem on the helmet marked the leader of the race, the master of this +world, for these simple folk. + +Marahna reached her slim hands and lifted the thing of gold. She +turned, and held it above the startled eyes of Jerry Foster, and she +placed it upon his head with all the dignity that became a queen. A +word from her, and the men before him dropped in humbleness to the +ground. The Princess Marahna was among them in honoring salutation to +their king. + +Jerry was beyond speech. Not so Winslow. "It looks to me," he said +dryly, "as if you were being offered the kingdom of the earth--I mean +the moon. Think it over, Jerry--think it over." + + * * * * * + +And Jerry Foster thought it over, deeply and soberly. He could rule +this people, he and Marahna, rule in peace and quiet and comfort. He +could bring them knowledge and wisdom of infinite help; he could make +their new civilization a measure of advancement for a whole race. He +could teach them, train them, instruct them. And he and Marahna--there +would be children who would be princes born--could be happy--for a +time. And then ... and then he would be old. Old and lonely for his +kind, hungering and longing for his own people. As Marahna would be on +earth, so would he be here.... + +His decision was formed. And with it he knew he must not hurt the +heart of Marahna. She loved him, Jerry Foster, the man. He must leave +her as Jerry Foster, the god, child of the sun. He stood suddenly to +his full height, and who shall say that for a moment the man did not +approach the stature of divinity--for he was wholly kind. + +He placed a hand upon the head of the kneeling girl before him. He +held her in her submissive pose, then, turning to the waiting men, he +spoke in measured tones. + +"I thank you," he said, and the words came from a full heart, "but my +place is not here. I leave with you one more worthy." + +Before their wondering gaze he removed the glowing circlet from his +head; he leaned to place it on the head of Marahna, humbled before +him. With strong hands he raised her to her feet. His look, so tender +yet reserved, was full of meaning. She followed his every sign. + + * * * * * + +He waved once toward the sun, hidden behind the distant hills: he +pointed again to Winslow and himself and to their shining ship: and +again he marked the going of the sun. His meaning was plain--these +children of the sun must return to their far-off home. + +He turned now to Marahna. In his hand was the object he had taken from +his pack. It was a treasured thing, this locket of platinum on its +thin and lacy chain; it had been his mother's, and he thought of her +now as he opened the clasp to show his own face framed within the +oval. His mother--she had worn this. And she would have approved, he +knew, of its disposal. + +Gravely he faced Marahna. He showed her the picture within the case, +then held it aloft where all might see. He closed it and taught her +the pressure that released the spring. Then, with gentle dignity that +made of the gesture a rite, he placed the chain about the neck of +Princess Marahna--Queen, now, of the People of the Moon. And he knew +that he gave into her keeping their only relic of a being from the +sun. It marked her beyond all future question with a symbol of +mastery. And it made of him a god. + +And even a queen may not aspire to such an one. + +It was well that Winslow's hand was there to guide him as he walked +with unseeing eyes toward the ship. + + * * * * * + +Time may lose at times all meaning and measure--moments become +timeless. It seemed ages to Jerry Foster when Winslow spoke in casual +tones. "I'm going straight up," he said, above the generator's roar. +"Then we'll swing around above the other side. We'll follow the +sun--make the full circle of the moon before we start." + +But Jerry neither thought nor heard. His eyes were close to a window +of thick glass. Below him was a shrinking, dwindling landscape, +wind-swept and desolate. + +There was a multitude of faces, turned worshipping toward the sky. On +one, who stood apart in tiny loneliness, his vision centered. He +watched and strained his aching eyes until the figure was no more. +Only the pale rose of a dying sun, and a torn, volcanic waste that +tugged strangely at his heart. + +"Yes," he answered mechanically, "yes, we'll go round with the sun ... +a couple of sun gods." + +He laughed strangely as he regarded his companion. + +If Winslow wondered at the weariness in the voice he made no sign. He +was busy with a rheostat that made thunderous roaring of the blast +behind their ship: that swung them in a sweeping arc through velvet +skies, away from the far side of the moon, to follow the path of the +setting sun--homeward bound. + + + + +_The Readers' Corner_ + +_A Meeting Place for Readers of_ + +Astounding Stories + +[Illustration:] + + +"_Second Better Than First_" + + Dear Editor: + + The second number of Astounding Stories is better than the + first. "Spawn of the Stars," by Charles Willard Diffin, was + the best story, closely followed by "Creatures of the + Light," by Sophie Wenzel Ellis and "The Beetle Horde," by + Victor Rousseau. I like stories of vibration as in "Mad + Music," and of acceleration, as in "The Thief of Time." I am + glad to see Harl Vincent in the pages of Astounding Stories. + I have read many good stories by him. Interplanetary stories + are my favorites, and the more you have of them the better. + + I wish that you would put Astounding Stories out twice a + month or put out a quarterly containing twice as much + reading material as the monthly. In this you could put one + book-length novel and a few shorter stories. + + Are you going to start a department containing the readers' + letters soon?--Jack R. Darrow, 4225 N. Spaulding Avenue, + Chicago, Ill. + + +_Size and Paper_ + + Dear Editor: + + I certainly am glad to see your magazine appear on the + newsstands. I also view with appreciation the fact that you + have such brilliant authors as Harl Vincent and Captain S. + P. Meek, U. S. A., on your list of contributors. Your + stories are of the very highest value in the line of Science + Fiction. However, I did not like "The Corpse on the + Grating." It did not have an inkling of scientific + background. I really am surprised it was published in a + Science Fiction magazine. Aside from the fact that the idea + of the story was merely a fantastical surmise I was very + favorably impressed with the author's style and his use of + the English language. + + Why don't you try for some more of the works of the other + well-known authors in this line of fiction? + + My main object in writing this letter was that I think you + rub the name of Science Fiction in the dust by printing it + on such paper and in such a small magazine. If you intend to + compete with your several contemporaries, you will almost + have to alter your size and quality of your paper. + + You might include a full page Illustration for each story + also, but, you will admit, that to combat these other + influential Science Fiction magazines, you will have to put + your magazine on a par materially with the others in your + line. + + I admire the type of stories which you publish and want to + see your magazine get ahead.--Warren Williams, 545 + Dorchester, Chicago, Illinois. + + +_They Will!_ + + Dear Editor: + + I am a monthly reader of your Astounding Stories and I am + greatly interested in them. + + The best story I have so far read is "Creatures of the + Light." It is a story of Super-science indeed. If the author + of this story would write more like it, I am sure they would + be greatly appreciated. + + Here is hoping that more of their kind appear in the very + near future. Yours for more good stories.--Quenton Stockman, + 245 Dixon Street, Portland, Oregon. + + +"_Surpasses the First_" + + Dear Editor: + + I have just finished the February issue of your magazine. It + surpasses the first issue by far. I am glad to see that you + have eight stories in this issue. That is just enough. I + like one serial (not too long), one or two novelettes, and + five or six short stories in each issue. Tell Captain S. P. + Meek to write more adventures of Dr. Bird. + + I have arranged the stories of the first two issues + according to my own liking. Excellent: "The Beetle Horde" + and "Phantoms of Reality." Good: "The Care of Horror," + "Tanks" and "Invisible Death." Fair: "The Stolen Mind" and + "Compensation." + + In the second issue: Excellent: "Creatures of the Light," + "Old Crompton's Secret," "The Beetle Horde" and "Spawn of + the Stars." Good: "The Thief of Time" and "Mad Music." Fair: + "The Corpse on the Grating" and "Into Space." + + I hope there will be more stories under "Excellent" next + month--Ward Elmore, 2012 Avenue J, Ft. Madison, Ia. + + +"_Only One Trouble_--" + + Dear Editor: + + I have just finished reading your new magazine and think + it's great. The only trouble with it is that it doesn't have + enough stories. + + I liked "Phantoms of Reality," by Ray Cummings, best, and + "The Cave of Horror," by Capt. S. P. Meek, next best. "The + Beetle Horde," and "Tanks" were also good. + + Ray Cummings and S. P. Meek are among my favorite Science + Fiction authors. + + I like best interplanetary stories and stories of the + aircraft of the future. I would like to see a good + interplanetary story by R. H. Romans in this magazine pretty + soon. + + Other good authors whose stories I would like to read are: + Dr. David H Keller, Dr. Miles J. Breuer, Lilith Lorraine, Ed + Earl Repp and Walter Kateley. + + In your editorial you mention the fact that some day in the + future a person can disintegrate his body in New York and + reintegrate it in China. I would like to see a good story + about that by either Ray Cummings or S.P. Meek. + + Something else: why not make your magazine a little bigger + and include a scientific article or two once in a while?--J. + W. Latimer, 1000 East 8th Street, National City, Calif. + + +"_No Horror Stories_" + + Dear Editor: + + I am taking this opportunity to let you know what I think of + Astounding Stories. The worst fault is the tendency to print + terror stories. Please don't do this. If I never see another + story like "The Corpse on the Grating" in your magazine it + will be too soon. + + Don't print so many detective stories. Capt. Meek's splendid + stories are plenty. Please start a discussion column and put + Wesso's drawings inside the magazine, too. + + Are you planning on any reprints? I would like to see some + reprints of Ray Cummings', A. Merritt's, H. G. Wells', + Garret Smith's and George A. England's stories soon. + + "Phantoms of Reality," "The Beetle Horde," "The Cave of + Horror," "Into Space," "Creatures of the Light," and "Old + Crompton's Secret" were splendid. + + I hope for fewer detective stories and no horror + stories.--Joe Stone, 123 20th Street, Toledo, Ohio. + + +_We Liked It, Too!_ + + Dear Editor: + + Just a line to tell you that I bought my first copy of + Astounding Stories and they certainly are good, especially + "Creatures of the Light," by Sophie Wenzel Ellis. It's the + best short story I've read in ages. I hope to read more by + her in the future. Yours for success.--F. J. Michaslow, + Battery "D," Ft. Hancock, N. J. + + +"_Strikes a Mystic Chord_" + + Dear Editor: + + I think that your Astounding Story Magazine is a fine + magazine. It seems to strike a mystic cord within me and + makes me respond to it. + + One thing lacking--I believe, that is--a department for + letters from your readers. + + "Spawn of the Stars" is certainly a fine scientific story. + + I wish that the author of "Into Space" would write a sequel + to his story.--Ronald Bainbridge, Rockford, Illinois. + + +_We're Avoiding Reprints_ + + Dear Editor: + + I am writing again about Astounding Stories. It seems more + people are interested in science to-day than ever before, + and an easy and interesting way to gain this knowledge is + through reading an entertaining science story. + + Regarding stories in your February issue, will list them + according to my likes and dislikes. "Into Space" and "Mad + Music" contained science maybe not impossible in the future. + "Spawn of the Stars," "The Beetle Horde," "Creatures of the + Light," "The Thief of Time" and "Old Compton's Secret" were + very interesting science, and good reading, but "The Corpse + on the Grating" did not appeal to me. + + I like interplanetary stories and stories of what might be + on other planets. + + I notice some familiar names among your authors. Why not + print some (not too many) stories from H. G. Wells, E. R. + Burroughs and Jules Verne? Some of their stories which were + considered just wild dreams of the author at the time of + writing have actually become a reality, as, for instance, + the submarine. If you keep on as you started or improve I + can see only success--C. E. Anderson, 3504 Colfax Avenue + South, Minneapolis, Minn. + + +_A Few Favorites_ + + Dear Editor: + + I am an electrical engineer. I read the last two issues of + your magazine. I liked it very much. It is thrilling and + very well edited. I will buy it regularly. + + I liked "Invisible Death" best. "The Beetle Horde" was good, + "Phantoms of Reality," good. "Into Space" and "Mad Music," + very good. "Creatures of the Light," "Old Crompton's Secret" + and "Spawn of the Stars," good.--Adolph Wasserrogel, Gedden + Terrace, Waterbury, Conn. + + +"_Going Some!_" + + Dear Editor: + + I purchased one of your magazines when I first saw them. I + always had a liking for Super-science stories, but your + magazine was the best I ever got hold of. Thought I could + never wait until the next issue to finish "The Beetle + Horde." I believe "The Cave of Horror" was the best story in + that issue. It really seemed as if it could be true. + + Due respect must be paid the author of "The Corpse on the + Grating," for it was exciting and fantastic. "Phantoms of + Reality" was good. + + All the stories in the second magazine seemed as good as the + best of the first number, and that's going some. + + May you succeed in getting the same good and better stories + as you have in the first two issues of a magazine that I am + sure will grow to fame.--Harold Rakestraw, Box 25, Winthop, + Wash. + + +_We Intend To_ + + Dear Editor: + + Having read the first two issues of your new magazine, I + find it has a larger variety of stories than any of the + other Science Fiction magazines now found on the newsstands. + Why not keep it that way? It will be unique. + + Mr. Wessolowski, your artist, is great. He is one who can + draw when it comes to a good scientific background. + + I consider "Tanks" your best story as yet, with "Spawn of + the Stars" close second. "Invisible Death," "Creatures of + the Light" and "Mad Music" were also good. Try to give us + some stories by Edgar Rice Burroughs and A. Merritt. Did not + think much of "The Beetle Horde"--too many like it--Ted + Shatkowski, 812 Hoffman St., Hammond, Ind. + + +_Some Good Suggestions_ + + Dear Editor: + + I received the pleasure of purchasing a copy of Astounding + Stories the other day, the first copy I have seen. I have + not yet read it, but I am unable to wait that long to inform + you of my great joy in greeting a new magazine of this type. + + I am a reader of other magazines similar to A. S., Stories + of Harl Vincent, Capt. S. P. Meek, Murray Leinster, and + others appear in these magazines, also, so I am familiar + with your authors. + + But you have asked me what sort of stories I'd like to see + in A. S., so here goes. First of all, I would earnestly beg + you not to print such stories as those that deal with + ghosts, etc., because in my opinion there are far too many + good stories available to cast them aside for trash. + + The type of story I prefer is the kind that is fanciful, odd + and interesting. Some tales deal with a new invention of + some sort, but contain no action or plot. However, I fail to + see any like that in the present A. S., unless it's "Mad + Music." + + A few utterly impossible stories are so interestingly told + that it is worth while to publish them. Some examples are + stories by A. Merritt (whose stories are the most + fascinating I have ever read). H. P. Lovecraft (master of + the bizarre and the grotesque) and G. A. England. + + My letter seems to be mostly composed of suggestions, but + that is only because I am interested in anything pertaining + to stories of imagination, or Science Fiction, as it is + called. However, Astounding Stories seems to be very + satisfying to me. I am glad that you have Wessolowski on + your artist's staff. I hope that you will have a story + contest some time in the future, as they are very + interesting, and often uncover hitherto unknown talent in + the contestants. + + I sincerely wish you the utmost of success in Astounding + Stories and hope that it will live a long, enduring life. + + I hope, as time goes on, you will favor us with more + illustrations, for this type of story needs a large amount + of drawings so that the readers won't overwork their + imaginations. + + Astounding Stories seems to be very shy, for I heard of it + from a friend and got the February, 1930 issue only after an + exhaustive search. The place where I got it appears to be + about the only one in town selling it. I hope more stores + will handle your great magazine. (I didn't intend the words + "great magazine" to be sarcastic. I really think it's + great!) + + I hope you will have a department in which the readers may + discuss the merits or lacks of stories published. Or at + least print excerpts now and then. + + Enclosed find twenty cents in stamps for which please send + me the first issue.--A. W. Bernal, 1374 E. 32 Street, + Oakland, Calif. + + +"_Stories I Like Best_--" + + Dear Editor: + + The stories I like best in your Astounding Stories of + Super-science were "The Beetle Horde" by Victor Rousseau, + "The Cave of Horror," by Capt. S. P. Meek, "Compensation," + by C. V. Tench, "Invisible Death," by Anthony Pelcher. I + have just bought your second copy of Astounding Stories. I + like the book very much, and expect to buy it every + month--Issac Dworkowits, 1262 Valentine Avenue, Bronx, N. Y. + + +"_Just What Is Needed_" + + Dear Editor: + + I have read the first two copies of your new magazine and I + would like to make a few comments and criticisms. This + magazine is very popular in my community and is just what is + needed to instill scientific interest in the mind of the + general public. Science Fiction will arouse more interest + and will be read by more people than any amount of dry + science and cold facts. Since you would like to have a + reader's opinion, I will say that "The Beetle Horde" is the + best story that I have read in a long time and was based on + the most excellent science; "The Thief of Time" was good; + try to get some more stories by Capt. S. P. Meek; one in + every copy would not be too many. I could not get all "het + up" over "Spawn of the Stars," it was a little vague; I do + not think the author had a very distinct idea about the + nature of the invaders. + + The stories do not have to stick to cold science, but should + not violate an established fact without a reasonable + explanation, as this might cause a mistaken idea in the + minds of the readers. A few good authors are: Dr. Keller, A + Hyatt Verrill, Walter Kately and R. H. Romans.--Wayne Bray, + Campbell, Missouri. + + +"_Literature That Typifies New Age_" + + Dear Editor: + + As a member of an organization whose existence was founded + through the medium of Science Fiction, I have watched your + magazine closely, and here are the results: + + It is all Science Fiction, virile, interesting and new. + + A popular edition of these stories with the name of a great + publishing house behind it. + + The authors you have acquired are supreme in this field. Ray + Cummings and Captain Meek need no introduction. And Harl + Vincent is a notable addition whose stories of "Indefinite + Extension" and interplanetary travel are well known to + Science Fiction fans. + + Science Fiction, first introduced by Verne, Poe, Wells, + Haggard and other old masters in this line, is a type of + literature that typifies the new age to come--the age of + science. And, in conclusion, may I say that the Science + Correspondence Club extends to your new and most acceptable + publication heartiest wishes for continued and increasing + success. I subscribe myself to the advancement of science + and Science Fiction.--Walter P. Dennis, F. P. S., 4653 + Addison Street, Chicago, Ill. + + +"_Keep Up the Good Work_" + + Dear Editor: + + I have just completed the perusal of the first issue of + Astounding Stories and am immensely pleased. I am a high + school senior, and though have only a rudimentary knowledge + of science, the subject impresses me and I am eager to gain + new facts and food for thought. + + I compliment you on securing the services of such writers of + scientifiction as Ray Cummings, Harl Vincent, and R. F. + Starzl. They are good! Ray Cummings' impressive style, his + vivid imagination, and his knowledge of his subject seem to + me invincible. His stories are always welcome. + + Now, concerning the services of other writers of Science + Fiction, I think the majority of the readers would be well + pleased with the following list: Edgar Rice Burroughs, A. + Hyatt Verrill, H.G. Wells, David H. Keller, Otis Adelbert + Kline and Stanton Coblentz. The above mentioned, I am sure, + would greatly please your readers. I believe it would + greatly improve the circulation of your magazine to try to + secure the services of such writers (especially E. R. + Burroughs). + + I am greatly interested in the future of your magazine and + wish it every bit of luck in the world. You have made an + astounding start. Keep up the good work.--A. G. Jaweett, + Jr., 132 Murdock Avenue, Asheville, N.C. + + +"_The Readers' Corner_" + +All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "come +over in 'The Readers' Corner'" and join in our monthly discussion of +stories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities--everything +that's of common interest in connection with our Astounding Stories. + +Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, this +is a department primarily for _Readers_, and we want you to make full +use 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._ + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories of Super-Science, +June, 1930, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 29848-8.txt or 29848-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/4/29848/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Astounding Stories of Super-Science, June, 1930 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 30, 2009 [EBook #29848] +Last updated: March 20, 2011 +Last updated: May 26, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 380px;"><a name="Cover" id="Cover"></a> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" width="380" height="552" /></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="500" height="214" alt="Cover" /> +</div> + +<h1>ASTOUNDING</h1> + <h2>STORIES<br /> + OF SUPER-SCIENCE</h2> + +<h3>20¢</h3> + +<h3><i>On Sale the First Thursday of Each Month</i></h3> +<p>W. M. CLAYTON, Publisher HARRY BATES, Editor DR. DOUGLAS M. DOLD, +Consulting Editor</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>The Clayton Standard on a Magazine Guarantees</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>That</i> the stories therein are clean, interesting, vivid, by +leading writers of the day and purchased under conditions +approved by the Authors' League of America;</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="150" height="301" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><i>That</i> such magazines are manufactured in Union shops by +American workmen;</p> + +<p><i>That</i> each newsdealer and agent is insured a fair profit;</p> + +<p><i>That</i> an intelligent censorship guards their advertising +pages.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>The other Clayton magazines are</i>:</p> + +<p class="center"> +ACE-HIGH MAGAZINE, RANCH ROMANCES, COWBOY STORIES, CLUES, FIVE-NOVELS +MONTHLY, ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, RANGELAND LOVE STORY +MAGAZINE, and WESTERN ADVENTURES. +</p> + +<p><i>More than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demand +for Clayton Magazines.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>VOL. II, No. 3 CONTENTS JUNE, 1930</h2> + + + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td>COVER DESIGN</td><td>H. W. WESSOLOWSKI</td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Painted in Water-colors from a Scene in "The Moon Master."</i></td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Out_of_the_Dreadful_Depths">OUT OF THE DREADFUL DEPTHS</a></td> +<td>C. D. WILLARD</td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Robert Thorpe Seeks Out the Nameless Horror That Is Sucking All Human +Life Out of Ships in the South Pacific.</i></td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Murder_Madness">MURDER MADNESS</a></td> +<td>MURRAY LEINSTER</td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Bell, of the Secret "Trade," Strikes into the South American Jungle to +Find the Hidden Stronghold of the Master—the Unknown Monster Whose +Diabolical Poison Swiftly and Surely Is Enslaving the Whole Continent.</i> +(Part Two of a Continued Novel.)</td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#The_Cavern_World">THE CAVERN WORLD</a></td> +<td>JAMES P. OLSEN</td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>A Great Oil Field Had Gone Dry—and Asher, Trapped Far under the Earth +Among the Revolting Petrolia, Learns Why.</i></td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Brigands_of_the_Moon">BRIGANDS OF THE MOON</a></td> +<td>RAY CUMMINGS</td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>The Besieged Earth-men Wage Grim, Ultra-scientific War with Martian +Bandits in a Last Great Struggle for Their Radium-ore—and Their Lives.</i> +(Conclusion.)</td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Giants_of_the_Ray">GIANTS OF THE RAY</a></td> +<td>TOM CURRY</td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Madly the Three Raced for their Lives up the Shaft of the Radium Mine, +for Behind Them Poured a Stream of Hideous Monsters—Giants of the Ray!</i></td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#The_Moon_Master">THE MOON MASTER</a></td> +<td>CHARLES W. DIFFIN</td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_384">384</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Through Infinite Deeps of Space Jerry Foster Hurtles to the Moon—Only +to be Trapped by a Barbaric Race and Offered as a Living Sacrifice to Oong, +their Loathsome, Hypnotic God.</i> (A Complete Novel.)</td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#The_Readers_Corner">THE READERS' CORNER</a></td> +<td>ALL OF US</td> + <td class="tocpg"> </td> + <td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_421">421</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>A Meeting Place for Readers of Astounding Stories.</i></td> + <td></td> + <td></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><b>Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents) Yearly Subscription, +$2.00</b></p> + +<p>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 Office +at New York, under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a Trade +Mark in the U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group—Men's List. +For advertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co., Inc., 25 Vanderbilt +Ave., New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave., Chicago.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" alt=""Help—help—the eyes—the eyes!"" width="600" height="481" class="img1" /> +<span class="caption">"Help—help—the eyes—the eyes!"</span></div> + +<h2><a name="Out_of_the_Dreadful_Depths" id="Out_of_the_Dreadful_Depths"></a>Out of the Dreadful Depths</h2> + +<h3><i>By C. D. Willard</i></h3> +<div class="sidenote">Robert Thorpe seeks out the nameless horror that is sucking +all human life out of ships in the South Pacific.</div> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>obert Thorpe reached languidly for a cigarette and, with lazy +fingers, extracted a lighter from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Be a sport," he repeated to the gray haired man across the table. "Be +a sport, Admiral, and send me across on a destroyer. Never been on a +destroyer except in port. It ... would be a new experience ... enjoy +it a lot...."</p> + +<p>In the palm-shaded veranda of this club-house in Manila, Admiral +Struthers, U. S. N., regarded with undisguised disfavor the young man +in the wicker chair. He looked at the deep chest and the broad +shoulders which even a loose white coat could not conceal, at the +short, wavy brown hair and the slow, friendly smile on the face below.</p> + +<p>A likable chap, this Thorpe, but lazy—just an idler—he had +concluded. Been playing around Manila for the last two months—resting +up, he had said. And from what? the Admiral had questioned +disdainfully. Admiral Struthers did not like indolent young men, but +it would have saved him money if he had really got an answer to his +question and had learned just why and how Robert Thorpe had earned a +vacation.</p> + +<p>"You on a destroyer!" he said, and the lips beneath the close-cut gray +mustache twisted into a smile. "That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> would be too rough an experience +for you, I am afraid, Thorpe. Destroyers pitch about quite a bit, you +know."</p> + +<p>He included in his smile the destroyer captain and the young lady who +completed their party. The young lady had a charming and saucy smile +and knew it; she used it in reply to the Admiral's remark.</p> + +<p>"I have asked Mr. Thorpe to go on the <i>Adelaide</i>," she said. "We shall +be leaving in another month—but Robert tells me he has other plans."</p> + +<p>"Worse and worse," was the Admiral's comment. "Your father's yacht is +not even as steady as a destroyer. Now I would suggest a nice +comfortable liner...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>obert Thorpe did not miss the official glances of amusement, but his +calm complacence was unruffled. "No," he said, "I don't just fancy +liners. Fact is, I have been thinking of sailing across to the States +alone."</p> + +<p>The Admiral's smile increased to a short laugh. "I would make a bet +you wouldn't get fifty miles from Manila harbor."</p> + +<p>The younger man crushed his cigarette slowly into the tray. "How much +of a bet?" he asked. "What will you bet that I don't sail alone from +here to—where are you stationed?—San Diego?—from here to San +Diego?"</p> + +<p>"Humph!" was the snorted reply. "I would bet a thousand dollars on +that and take your money for Miss Allaire's pet charity."</p> + +<p>"Now that's an idea," said Thorpe. He reached for a check book in his +inner pocket and began to write.</p> + +<p>"In case I lose," he explained, "I might be hard to find, so I will +just ask Miss Allaire to hold this check for me. You can do the same." +He handed the check to the girl.</p> + +<p>"Winner gets his thousand back, Ruth; loser's money goes to any little +orphans you happen to fancy."</p> + +<p>"You're not serious," protested the Admiral.</p> + +<p>"Sure! The bank will take that check seriously, I promise you. And I +saw just the sloop I want for the trip ... had my eye on her for the +past month."</p> + +<p>"But, Robert," began Ruth Allaire, "you don't mean to risk your life +on a foolish bet?"</p> + +<p>Thorpe reached over to pat tenderly the hand that held his check. "I'm +glad if you care," he said, and there was an undertone of seriousness +beneath his raillery, "but save your sympathy for the Admiral. The U. +S. Navy can't bluff me." He rose more briskly from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Thorpe...." said Admiral Struthers. He was thinking deeply, trying to +recollect. "Robert Thorpe.... I have a book by someone of that +name—travel and adventure and knocking about the world. Young man, +are you <i>the</i> Robert Thorpe?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, if you wish to put it that way," agreed the other. He waved +lightly to the girl as he moved away.</p> + +<p>"I must be running along," he said, "and get that boat. See you all in +San Diego!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he first rays of the sun touched with golden fingers the tops of the +lazy swells of the Pacific. Here and there a wave broke to spray under +the steady wind and became a shower of molten metal. And in the boat, +whose sails caught now and then the touch of morning, Robert Thorpe +stirred himself and rose sleepily to his feet.</p> + +<p>Out of the snug cabin at this first hint of day, he looked first at +the compass and checked his course, then made sure of the lashing +about the helm. The steady trade-winds had borne him on through the +night, and he nodded with satisfaction as he prepared to lower his +lights. He was reaching for a line as the little craft hung for an +instant on the top of a wave. And in that instant his eyes caught a +marking of white on the dim waters ahead.</p> + +<p>"Breakers!" he shouted aloud and leaped for the lashed wheel. He +swung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> off to leeward and eased a bit on the main-sheet, then lashed +the wheel again to hold on the new course.</p> + +<p>Again from a wave-crest he stared from under a sheltering hand. The +breakers were there—the smooth swells were foaming—breaking in +mid-ocean where his chart, he knew, showed water a mile deep. Beyond +the white line was a three-master, her sails shivering in the breeze.</p> + +<p>The big sailing ship swung off on a new tack as he watched. Was she +dodging those breakers? he wondered. Then he stared in amazement +through the growing light at the unbroken swells where the white line +had been.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e rubbed his sleepy eyes with a savage hand and stared again. There +were no breakers—the sea was an even expanse of heaving water.</p> + +<p>"I could swear I saw them!" he told himself, but forgot this +perplexing occurrence in the still more perplexing maneuvers of the +sailing ship.</p> + +<p>This steady wind—for smooth handling—was all that such a craft could +ask, yet here was this old-timer of the sea with a full spread of +canvas booming and cracking as the ship jibed. She rolled far over as +he watched, recovered, and tore off on a long, sweeping circle.</p> + +<p>The one man crew of the little sloop should have been preparing +breakfast, as he had for many mornings past, but, instead he swung his +little craft into the wind and watched for near an hour the erratic +rushes and shivering haltings of the larger ship. But long before this +time had passed Thorpe knew he was observing the aimless maneuvers of +an unmanned vessel.</p> + +<p>And he watched his chance for a closer inspection.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he three-master <i>Minnie R.</i>, from the dingy painting of the stern, +hung quivering in the wind when he boarded her. There was a broken +log-line that swept down from the stern, and he caught this and made +his own boat fast. Then, watching his chance, he drew close and went +overboard, the line in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Like a blooming native after cocoanuts," he told himself as he went +up the side. But he made it and pulled himself over the rail as the +ship drew off on another tack.</p> + +<p>Thorpe looked quickly about the deserted deck. "Ahoy, there!" he +shouted, but the straining of rope and spars was his only answer. +Canvas was whipping to ribbons, sheets cracked their frayed ends like +lashes as the booms swung wildly, but a few sails still held and +caught the air.</p> + +<p>He was on the after deck, and he leaped first for the wheel that was +kicking and whirling with the swing of the rudder. A glance at the +canvas that still drew, and he set her on a course with a few +steadying pulls. There was rope lying about, and he lashed the wheel +with a quick turn or two and watched the ship steady down to a smooth +slicing of the waves from the west.</p> + +<p>And only then did the man take time to quiet his panting breath and +look about him in the unnatural quiet of this strangely deserted deck. +He shouted again and walked to a companionway to repeat the hail. Only +an echo, sounding hollowly from below, replied to break the vast +silence.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was puzzling—inconceivable. Thorpe looked about him to note the +lifeboats snug and undisturbed in their places. No sign there of an +abandonment of the boat, but abandoned she was, as the silence told +only too plainly. And Thorpe, as he went below, had an uncanny feeling +of the crew's presence—as if they had been there, walked where he +walked, shouted and laughed a matter of a brief hour or two before.</p> + +<p>The door of the captain's cabin was burst in, hanging drunkenly from +one hinge. The log-book was open; there were papers on a rude desk. +The bunk was empty where the blankets had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> thrown hurriedly +aside. Thorpe could almost see the skipper of this mystery ship +leaping frantically from his bed at some sudden call or commotion. A +chair was smashed and broken, and the man who examined it curiously +wiped from his hands a disgusting slime that was smeared stickily on +the splintered fragments. There was a fetid stench within his +nostrils, and he passed up further examination of this room.</p> + +<p>Forward in the fo'c'sle he felt again irresistibly the recent presence +of the crew. And again he found silence and emptiness and a disorder +that told of a fear-stricken flight. The odor that sickened and +nauseated the exploring man was everywhere. He was glad to gain the +freedom of the wind-swept deck and rid his lungs of the vile breath +within the vessel.</p> + +<p>He stood silent and bewildered. There was not a living soul aboard the +ship—no sign of life. He started suddenly. A moaning, whimpering cry +came from forward on the deck!</p> + +<p>Thorpe leaped across a disorder of tangled rope to race toward the +bow. He stopped short at sight of a battered cage. Again the moaning +came to him—there was something that still lived on board the +ill-fated ship.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e drew closer to see a great, huddled, furry mass that crouched and +cowered in a corner of the cage. A huge ape, Thorpe concluded, and it +moaned and whimpered absurdly like a human in abject fear.</p> + +<p>Had this been the terror that drove the men into the sea? Had this ape +escaped and menaced the officers and crew? Thorpe dismissed the +thought he well knew was absurd. The stout wood bars of the cage were +broken. It had been partially crushed, and the chain that held it to +the deck was extended to its full length.</p> + +<p>"Too much for me," the man said slowly, aloud; "entirely too much for +me! But I can't sail this old hooker alone; I'll have to get out and +let her drift."</p> + +<p>He removed completely one of the splintered bars from the broken cage. +"I've got to leave you, old fellow," he told the cowering animal, "but +I'll give you the run of the ship."</p> + +<p>He went below once more and came quickly back with the log-book and +papers from the captain's room. He tied these in a tight wrapping of +oilcloth from the galley and hung them at his belt. He took the wheel +again and brought the cumbersome craft slowly into the wind. The bare +mast of his own sloop was bobbing alongside as he went down the line +and swam over to her.</p> + +<p>Fending off from the wallowing hulk, he cut the line, and his small +craft slipped slowly astern as the big vessel fell off in the wind and +drew lumberingly away on its unguided course.</p> + +<p>She vanished into the clear-cut horizon before the watching man ceased +his staring and pricked a point upon his chart that he estimated was +his position.</p> + +<p>And he watched vainly for some sign of life on the heaving waters as +he set his sloop back on her easterly course.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was a sun-tanned young man who walked with brisk strides into the +office of Admiral Struthers. The gold-striped arm of the uniformed man +was extended in quick greeting.</p> + +<p>"Made it, did you?" he exclaimed. "Congratulations!"</p> + +<p>"All O.K.," Thorpe agreed. "Ship and log are ready for your +verification."</p> + +<p>"Talk sense," said the officer. "Have any trouble or excitement? Or +perhaps you are more interested in collecting a certain bet than you +are in discussing the trip."</p> + +<p>"Damn the bet!" said the young man fervently. "And that's just what I +am here for—to talk about the trip. There were some little incidents +that may interest you."</p> + +<p>He painted for the Admiral in brief, terse sentences the picture of +that day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>break on the Pacific, the line of breakers, white in the +vanishing night, the abandoned ship beyond, cracking her canvas to +tatters in the freshening breeze. And he told of his boarding her and +of what he had found.</p> + +<p>"Where was this?" asked the officer, and Thorpe gave his position as +he had checked it.</p> + +<p>"I reported the derelict to a passing steamer that same day," he +added, but the Admiral was calling for a chart. He spread it on the +desk before him and placed the tip of a pencil in the center of an +unbroken expanse.</p> + +<p>"Breakers, you said?" he questioned. "Why, there are hundreds of +fathoms here, Mr. Thorpe."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p> know it," Thorpe agreed, "but I saw them—a stretch of white water +for an eighth of a mile. I know it's impossible, but true. But forget +that item for a time, Admiral. Look at this." He opened a brief case +and took out a log-book and some other papers.</p> + +<p>"The log of the <i>Minnie R.</i>," he explained briefly. "Nothing in it but +routine entries up to that morning and then nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"Abandoned," mused the Admiral, "and they did not take to the boats. +There have been other instances—never explained."</p> + +<p>"See if this helps any," suggested Thorpe and handed the other two +sheets of paper. "They were in the captain's cabin," he added.</p> + +<p>Admiral Struthers glanced at them, then settled back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Dated September fourth," he said. "That would have been the day +previous to the time you found her." The writing was plain, in a +careful, well-formed hand. He cleared his throat and read aloud:</p> + +<p>"Written by Jeremiah Wilkens of Salem, Mass., master of the <i>Minnie +R.</i>, bound from Shanghai to San Pedro. I have sailed the seas for +forty years, and for the first time I am afraid. I hope I may destroy +this paper when the lights of San Pedro are safe in sight, but I am +writing here what it would shame me to set down in the ship's log, +though I know there are stranger happenings on the face of the waters +than man has ever seen—or has lived to tell.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_a1.jpg" alt="A" width="56" height="52" /></div> +<p>ll this day I have been filled with fear. I have been watched—I +have felt it as surely as if a devil out of hell stood beside me with +his eyes fastened on mine. The men have felt it, too. They have been +frightened at nothing and have tried to conceal it as I have +done.—And the animals....</p> + +<p>"A shark has followed us for days—it is gone to-day. The cats—we +have three on board—have howled horribly and have hidden themselves +in the cargo down below. The mate is bringing a big monkey to be sold +in Los Angeles. An orang-outang, he calls it. It has been an ugly +brute, shaking at the bars of its cage and showing its ugly teeth ever +since we left port. But to-day it is crouched in a corner of its cage +and will not stir even for food. The poor beast is in mortal terror.</p> + +<p>"All this is more like the wandering talk of an old woman muttering in +a corner by the fireside of witches and the like than it is like a +truthful account set down by Jeremiah Wilkins. And now that I have +written it I see there is nothing to tell. Nothing but the shameful +account of my fear of some horror beyond my knowing. And now that it +is written I am tempted to destroy—No, I will wait—"</p> + +<p>"And now what is this?" Admiral Struthers interrupted his reading to +ask. He turned the paper to read a coarse, slanting scrawl at the +bottom of the page.</p> + +<p>"The eyes—the eyes—they are everywhere above us—God help—" The +writing trailed off in a straggling line.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he lips beneath the trim gray mustache drew themselves into a hard +line. It was a moment before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> Admiral Struthers raised his eyes to +meet those of Robert Thorpe.</p> + +<p>"You found this in the captain's cabin?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And the captain was—"</p> + +<p>"Gone."</p> + +<p>"Blood stains?"</p> + +<p>"No, but the door had been burst off its hinges. There had been a +struggle without a doubt."</p> + +<p>The officer mused for a minute or two.</p> + +<p>"Did they go aboard another vessel?" he pondered. "Abandon ship—open +the sea-cocks—sink it for the insurance?" He was trying vainly to +find some answer to the problem, some explanation that would not +impose too great a strain upon his own reason.</p> + +<p>"I have reported to the owners," said Thorpe. "The <i>Minnie R.</i> was not +heavily insured."</p> + +<p>The Admiral ruffled some papers on his desk to find a report.</p> + +<p>"There has been another," he told Thorpe. "A tramp freighter is listed +as missing. She was last reported due east of the position you give. +She was coming this way—must have come through about the same +water—" He caught himself up abruptly. Thorpe sensed that an Admiral +of the Navy must not lend too credulous an ear to impossible stories.</p> + +<p>"You've had an interesting experience, Mr. Thorpe," he said. "Most +interesting. Probably a derelict is the answer, some hull just afloat. +We will send out a general warning."</p> + +<p>He handed the loose papers and the log book to the younger man. "This +stuff is rubbish," he stated with emphasis. "Captain Wilkins held his +command a year or so too long."</p> + +<p>"You will do nothing about it?" Thorpe asked in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I said I would warn all shipping; there is nothing more to be done."</p> + +<p>"I think there is." Thorpe's gray eye were steady as he regarded the +man at the desk. "I intend to run it down. There have been other such +instances, as you said—never explained. I mean to find the answer."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>dmiral Struthers smiled indulgently. "Always after excitement," he +said. "You'll be writing another book, I expect. I shall look forward +to reading it ... but just what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to the Islands," said Thorpe quietly. "I am going to +charter a small ship of some sort, and I am going out there and camp +on that spot in the hope of seeing those eyes and what is behind them. +I am leaving to-night."</p> + +<p>Admiral Struthers leaned back to indulge in a hearty laugh. "I refused +you a passage on a destroyer once," he said, "and it was an expensive +mistake. I don't make the same mistake twice. Now I am going to offer +you a trip....</p> + +<p>"The <i>Bennington</i> is leaving to-day on a cruise to Manila. I'll hold +her an extra hour or two if you would like to go. She can drop you at +Honolulu or wherever you say. Lieutenant Commander Brent is in +command—you remember him in Manila, of course."</p> + +<p>"Fine," Thorpe responded. "I'll be there."</p> + +<p>"And," he added, as he took the Admiral's hand, "if I didn't object to +betting on a sure thing I would make you a little proposition. I would +bet any money that you would give your shirt to go along."</p> + +<p>"I never bet, either," said Admiral Struthers, "on a sure loss. Now +get out of here, you young trouble-shooter, and let the Navy get to +work." His eyes were twinkling as he waved the young man out.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>horpe found himself comfortably fixed on the <i>Bennington</i>. Brent, her +commander, was a fine example of the aggressive young chaps that the +destroyer fleet breeds. And he liked to play cribbage, Thorpe found. +They were pegging away industriously the sixth night out when the +first S.O.S. reached them. A mes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>sage was placed before the commander. +He read it and tossed it to Thorpe as he rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>"S.O.S.," said the radio sheet, "<i>Nagasaki Maru</i>, twenty-four +thirty-five N., one five eight West. Struck something unknown. Down at +the bow. May need help. Please stand by."</p> + +<p>Captain Brent had left the room. A moment later, and the quiver and +tremble of the <i>Bennington</i> told Thorpe they were running full speed +for the position of the stricken ship.</p> + +<p>But: "Twenty-four thirty-five North," he mused, "and less than two +degrees west of where the poor old <i>Minnie R.</i> got hers. I wonder ... +I wonder...."</p> + +<p>"We will be there in four hours," said Captain Brent on his return. +"Hope she lasts. But what have they struck out there? Derelict +probably, though she should have had Admiral Struthers' warning."</p> + +<p>Robert Thorpe made no reply other than: "Wait here a minute, Brent. I +have something to show you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e had not told the officer of his mission nor of his experience, but +he did so now. And he placed before him the wildly improbable +statement of the late Captain Wilkins.</p> + +<p>"Something is there," surmised Captain Brent, "just awash, +probably—no superstructure visible. Your <i>Minnie R.</i> hit the same +thing."</p> + +<p>"Something is there," Thorpe agreed. "I wish I knew what."</p> + +<p>"This stuff has got to you, has it?" asked Brent as he returned the +papers of Captain Wilkins. He was quite evidently amused at the +thought.</p> + +<p>"You weren't on the ship," said Thorpe, simply. "There was nothing to +see—nothing to tell. But I know...."</p> + +<p>He followed Brent to the wireless room.</p> + +<p>"Can you get the <i>Nagasaki</i>?" Brent asked.</p> + +<p>"They know we are coming, sir," said the operator. "We seem to be the +only one anywhere near."</p> + +<p>He handed the captain another message. "Something odd about that," he +said.</p> + +<p>"<i>U. S. S. Bennington</i>," the captain read aloud. "We are still afloat. +On even keel now, but low in water. No water coming in. Engines full +speed ahead, but we make no headway. Apparently aground. <i>Nagasaki +Maru.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Why, that's impossible," Brent exclaimed impatiently. "What kind of +foolishness—" He left the question uncompleted. The radio man was +writing rapidly. Some message was coming at top speed. Both Brent and +Thorpe leaned over the man's shoulder to read as he wrote.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bennington</i> help," the pencil was writing, "sinking fast—decks +almost awash—we are being—"</p> + +<p>In breathless silence they watched the pencil, poised above the paper +while the operator listened tensely to the silent night.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>gain his ear received the wild jumble of dots and dashes sent by a +frenzied hand in that far-off room. His pencil automatically set down +the words. "Help—help—" it wrote before Thorpe's spellbound gaze, +"the eyes—the eyes—it is attack—"</p> + +<p>And again the black night held only the rush and roar of torn waters +where the destroyer raced quivering through the darkness. The message, +as the waiting men well knew, would never be completed.</p> + +<p>"A derelict!" Robert Thorpe exclaimed with unconscious scorn. But +Captain Brent was already at a communication tube.</p> + +<p>"Chief? Captain Brent. Give her everything you've got. Drive the +<i>Bennington</i> faster than she ever went before."</p> + +<p>The slim ship was a quivering lance of steel that threw itself through +foaming waters, that shot with an endless, roaring surge of speed +toward that distant point in the heaving waste of the Pacific, and +that seemed, to the two silent men on the bridge, to put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> the dragging +miles behind them so slowly—so slowly.</p> + +<p>"Let me see those papers," said Captain Brent, finally.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e read them in silence.</p> + +<p>Then: "The eyes!" he said. "The eyes! That is what this other poor +devil said. My God, Thorpe, what is it? What can it be? We're not all +insane."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I expected to find," said Thorpe slowly. "I had +thought of many things, each wilder than the next. This Captain +Wilkins said the eyes were above him. I had visions of some sky +monster ... I had even thought of some strange aircraft from out in +space, perhaps, with round lights like eyes. I have pictured +impossibilities! But now—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the other questioned, "now?"</p> + +<p>"There were tales in olden times of the Kraken," suggested Thorpe.</p> + +<p>"The Kraken!" the captain scoffed. "A mythical monster of the sea. +Why, that was just a fable."</p> + +<p>"True," was the quiet reply, "that was just a fable. And one of the +things I have learned is how frequently there is a basis of fact +underlying a fable. And, for that matter, how can we know there is no +such monster, some relic of a Mesozoic species supposed to be +extinct?"</p> + +<p>He stood motionless, staring far out ahead into the dark. And Brent, +too, was silent. They seemed to try with unaided eyes to penetrate the +dark miles ahead and see what their sane minds refused to accept.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was still dark when the search-light's sweeping beam picked up the +black hull and broad, red-striped funnels of the <i>Nagasaki Maru</i>. She +was riding high in the water, and her big bulk rolled and wallowed in +the trough of the great swells.</p> + +<p>The <i>Bennington</i> swept in a swift circle about the helpless hulk while +the lights played incessantly upon her decks. And the watching eyes +strained vainly for some signal to betoken life, for some sign that +their mad race had not been quite vain. Her engines had been shut +down; there was no steerage-way for the <i>Nagasaki Maru</i>, and, from all +they could see, there were no human hands to drag at the levers of her +waiting engines nor to twirl with sure touch the deserted helm. The +<i>Nagasaki Maru</i> was abandoned.</p> + +<p>The lights held steadily upon her as the <i>Bennington</i> came alongside +and a boat was swung out smartly in its davits. But Thorpe knew he was +not alone in his wild surmise as to the cause of the catastrophe.</p> + +<p>"Throw your lights around the water occasionally," Brent ordered. "Let +me know if you see anything."</p> + +<p>"Yes sir," said the man at the search-light. "I will report if I spot +any survivors or boats."</p> + +<p>"Report anything you see," said Commander Brent curtly.</p> + +<p>"You go aboard if you want to," he suggested to Thorpe. "I will stay +here and be ready if you need help."</p> + +<p>Thorpe nodded with approval as the small boat pulled away in the dark, +for there was activity apparent on the destroyer not warranted by a +mere rescue at sea. Gun-crews rushed to their stations; the tarpaulin +covers were off of the guns, and their slender lengths gleamed where +they covered the course of the boat.</p> + +<p>"Brent is ready," Thorpe admitted, "for anything."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>hey found the iron ladder against the ship's side, and a sailor +sprang for it and made his way aboard. Thorpe was not the last to set +foot on deck, and he shuddered involuntarily at the eery silence he +knew awaited them.</p> + +<p>It was the <i>Minnie R.</i> over again, as he expected, but with a +difference. The sailing vessel, before he boarded it, had been for +some time exposed to the sun, while the <i>Nagasaki Maru</i> had not. And +here there were slimy trails still wet on the decks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>He went first to the wireless room. He must know the final answer to +that interrupted message, and he found it in emptiness. No radio man +was waiting him there, nor even a body to show the loser of an unequal +battle. But there was blood on the door-jamb where a body—the man's +body, Thorpe was sure—had been smashed against the wood. A wisp of +black hair in the blood gave its mute evidence of the hopeless fight. +And the slime, like the trails on the deck, smeared with odorous +vileness the whole room.</p> + +<p>Thorpe went again to the deck, and, as on the other ship, he breathed +deeply to rid his lungs and nostrils of the abhorrent stench. The +ensign in charge of the boarding party approached.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a rotten mess is this?" he demanded. "The ship is filthy +and not a soul on board. Not a man of them, officers or crew, and the +boats are all here. It's absolutely amazing, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"No," Thorpe told him, "about what we expected. What do you make of +this?" He touched with his foot a broad trail that shone wet in the +<i>Bennington's</i> lights.</p> + +<p>"The Lord knows," said the ensign in wonder. "It's all over and it +smells like a rotten dead fish. Well, we will be going back, sir." He +called to a petty officer to round up the men, and the boat was +brought alongside.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>heir return to the <i>Bennington</i> again through a pathway of light that +Thorpe knew was safe under the black muzzles of the destroyer's guns.</p> + +<p>Or was it, he asked himself. Safe! Was anything safe from this +devilish mystery that could pluck each cowering human from the lowest +depths of this steel freighter, that could drag her down in the water +till the radio man sent his cry: "We are sinking!..."</p> + +<p>He told Brent quietly, after the ensign had reported, of the struggles +in the wireless room and its few remaining traces. And he watched with +the commander through the hour of darkness while the <i>Bennington</i> +steamed in slow circles about the abandoned hulk, while her +search-lights played endlessly over the empty waters and the men at +the guns cast wondering glances at their skipper who ordered such +strange procedure when no danger was there.</p> + +<p>With daylight the scene lost its sense of mysterious threat, and +Thorpe was eager to return to the abandoned ship.</p> + +<p>"I might find something," he said, "some trace or indication of what +we have to fight."</p> + +<p>"I must leave," said Commander Brent. "Oh, I'm coming back, never +fear," he added, at the look of dismay on Thorpe's face. The thought +of leaving this mystery unsolved was more than that young seeker after +adventure could accept.</p> + +<p>"I'm coming back," Brent repeated. "I've been in communication with +the Admiral—Honolulu has relayed the messages through. All code, of +course; we mustn't alarm the whole Pacific with our nightmares. The +old man says to stick around and get the low-down on this damn thing."</p> + +<p>"Then why leave?" objected Thorpe.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_b1.jpg" alt="B" width="46" height="52" /></div> +<p>ecause I am coming around to your way of thinking, Thorpe. Because I +am as certain as can be that we have a monster of some sort to deal +with ... and because I haven't any depth charges. I want to run up to +the supply station at Honolulu and get a couple of ash-cans of TNT to +lay on top of the brute if we sight him."</p> + +<p>"Glory be!" said Thorpe fervently. "That sounds like business. Go and +get your eggs and perhaps we can feed them to this devil—raw.... And +I think I'll stay here, if you will be back by dark."</p> + +<p>"Better not," the other objected; but Thorpe overruled him.</p> + +<p>"This thing attacks in the dark," he said. "I will lay a little bet on +that. It left the orang-outang on the <i>Minnie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> R.</i>—quit at the first +sign of daylight. I will be safe through the day, and besides, the +beast has gutted this ship. It won't return, I imagine. And if I stay +there for the day—live as they lived, the men who manned that ship—I +may have some information that will be of help when you get back. But +for Heaven's sake, Brent, don't stop to pick any flowers on the way."</p> + +<p>"It's your funeral," said Brent not too cheerfully. "The old man said +to give you every assistance, and perhaps that includes helping you +commit suicide."</p> + +<p>But Robert Thorpe only laughed as Commander Brent gave his orders for +a small boat to be lowered. A ship's lantern and rockets for night +signals were taken at the officer's orders. "We'll be back before +dark," he said, "but take these as a precaution."</p> + +<p>One favor Thorpe asked—that the ship's carpenter go over with him and +help him to make a strong-barred retreat of the wireless cabin.</p> + +<p>"And I'll talk to you occasionally," he told Brent. "I tried the key +while I was aboard; the wireless is working on its batteries."</p> + +<p>He waved a cheery good-by as the small boat pulled away. "And hurry +back," he called. The destroyer commander nodded an emphatic assent.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>n board the <i>Nagasaki Maru</i>, Thorpe directed the carpenter and his +helpers in the work he wanted done. The man seemed to know +instinctively where to put his hands on needed supplies, and the +result was a virtual cage of strong oak bars enclosing the wireless +room, and braces of oak to bar the single door. Thorpe was not +assuming any bravado in his feeling of safety, but he was doing what +he had done in many other tight corners, and he prepared his defences +in advance.</p> + +<p>These included weapons of offense as well. As the boat with the +destroyer's men pulled back to the <i>Bennington</i>, he placed in easy +reach in a corner of the room a heavy calibered rifle he had taken +from his belongings.</p> + +<p>And, still, with all his feeling of security, there was a strange +depression fell upon him when the <i>Bennington's</i> narrow hull was small +upon the horizon, and then that, too, was gone and only the heaving +swells and the wallowing hulk were his companions.</p> + +<p>Only these? He shivered slightly as he thought of that unseen watcher +with the devil-eyes whose presence Captain Wilkins had felt—and his +men, and the poor terrified ape! He deliberately put from his mind the +thought of this; no use to start the day with morbid fears. He went +below to examine the cabins. But he carried the heavy elephant gun +with him wherever he went.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>elow decks the signs of the marauder were everywhere, yet there was +little to be learned. The slimy trails dried quickly and vanished, but +not before Thorpe had traced them to the uttermost depths of the ship.</p> + +<p>There was not a nook or corner that had gone unsearched in the +horrible quest for human food. And one thing impressed itself forcibly +upon the man's mind. He found a lantern, and he used it of necessity +in his explorations, but this thing had gone through the dark and with +unerring certainty had found its way to every victim.</p> + +<p>"Can it see in the dark?" Thorpe questioned. "Or...." He visioned +dimly some denizen of the vast depths, living beyond the limits of the +sun's penetration, far in the abysmal darkness where its only light +must be self-made. But his mind failed in the attempt to picture what +manner of horror this thing might be.</p> + +<p>Even in the hold its evil traces were found. There were tiers of metal +drums that still shone wet in his lantern's light. Calcium +carbide—for making acetylene, he supposed—marked "Made in U.S.A." +The <i>Nagasaki</i> must have been westward bound.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e went, after an hour or so, to the wireless room, and only when he +relaxed in the safety of his improvised fortress did he realize how +tense had been every nerve and muscle through his long search. He +tried the wireless and got an instant response from the destroyer.</p> + +<p>"Don't shoot it too fast," he spelled out slowly to the distant +operator: "I am only a dub. Just wanted to say hello and report all +O.K."</p> + +<p>"Fine," was the steady, careful response. "We have had a little +trouble with our condensers—" There was a short pause, then the +message continued, this portion dictated by the commander. "Delay not +important. We will be back as agreed. Have picked up <i>S. S. Adelaide</i> +bound east in your latitude. Warned her to take northerly course +account derelict. See you later. Signed, Brent, commanding <i>U. S. S. +Bennington</i>."</p> + +<p>The man in the barred room tapped off his acknowledgement and closed +the key. He suddenly realized he had had no breakfast, and the hours +had been slipping past. He took his gun again and went down to the +galley to prepare some coffee. It was not the time or place for an +enjoyable meal, but he would have relished it more had he not pictured +the <i>Adelaide</i> and her lovely owner steaming across these threatening +seas.</p> + +<p>He knew the captain of the <i>Adelaide</i>. "Obstinate pigheaded old +Scotchman!" "Hope he takes Brent's advice. Of course Brent couldn't +tell him the truth. We can't blat this wild yarn all over the air or +the passenger lines would have our scalps. But I wish the <i>Adelaide</i> +was safe in Manila."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>is explorations in the afternoon were half-hearted and perfunctory. +There was nothing more to be learned. But he had seen in his mind some +vague outline of what they must meet. He saw a something, mammoth, +huge, that could grasp and hold an ocean freighter—against whose +great body he had seen the waves dash in a line of white spray. Yet a +something that could force its way down narrow passages, could press +with terrific strength on bolted doors and crush them inward, wrecked +and splintered. Some serpentine thing that felt and saw its way and +crawled so surely through the dark—found its prey—seized it—and +carried off a man as easily as it might a mouse.</p> + +<p>No octopus, no matter what proportions, filled the description. He +gave up trying to see too clearly the awful thing. And he kept away +from the ship's rail when once he had ventured near. For there had +come to him a feeling of fear that had sent the waves of cold +trickling and prickling up his spine. Was there something really +there?... A waiting lurking horror in the depths?</p> + +<p>"The eyes," he thought, "the eyes!..." And he went more quickly than +he knew to his barred retreat where again he might breathe quietly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he position of the deserted ship was south of the regular steamer +lanes on the TransPacific run. Only a trace of smoke on the northern +horizon marked through the afternoon the passage of other craft. It +was a long and lonely vigil for the waiting man. But the <i>Bennington</i> +would return, and he listened in at intervals hoping to hear her +friendly signal.</p> + +<p>The batteries operating the <i>Nagasaki's</i> wireless were none too +strong; Thorpe saved their strength, though he tried at times to raise +the <i>Bennington</i> somewhere beyond his reach.</p> + +<p>The sun was touching the horizon when he got his first response. "Keep +up the old nerve," admonished the slow, careful sending of the +<i>Bennington's</i> operator. "We have been delayed but we are on our way. +Signed, Brent."</p> + +<p>The man in the wireless room placed the oak bars across the door, and +tried to believe he was nonchalant and unafraid as he laid out extra +clips of cartridges. But his eyes persisted in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> following the sinking +sun, and he watched from within his cage the coming of the quick dark.</p> + +<p>The protecting glare of day must be unbearable to this monster from +the lightless depths, and daylight was vanishing. Thorpe's mind was +searching for additional means of defense. He found it in the cargo he +had seen. The drums of carbide! He could scatter it on the deck—it +reacted with water, and those slimy arms, if they came and touched it, +could find the contact hot. He took his lantern and went hastily below +to stagger back with a drum upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>In the half-light that was left him he forced the cover and then +rolled the drum about the swaying deck. The gray, earthly lumps of +carbide formed erratic lines. Useless perhaps, he admitted, but the +threatening dark forced the man to use every means at his command.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e was scattering the contents of a second drum when he stiffened +abruptly to rigid attention.</p> + +<p>The ship, thrown broadside to the wide-spaced swells, had rolled +endlessly with a monotonous motion. But now the deck beneath him was +steadying. It assumed an abnormal levelness. The boat rose and fell +with the waves, but it no longer rolled. There was something beneath +holding, drawing on it.</p> + +<p>Thorpe knew in that frozen second what it meant. The drum clattered to +the rail as he dashed for his room. Gun in hand, he watched with +staring eyes where the deserted deck showed dim and vague in the light +of the stars and the bow of the ship was lost in the uncertain dark of +night.</p> + +<p>Wide-eyed he watched into the blackness, and he listened with +desperate attention for some slightest sound beyond the splashing of +waves and the creaking of spars.</p> + +<p>Far in the west a light appeared, to glow and vanish and glow again in +the tumbling waters. The <i>Bennington</i>! His heart leaped at the +thought, then sank as he knew the destroyer's lights would not appear +from that direction.</p> + +<p>Through a slow hour that seemed an eternity the oncoming ship drew +near, and he knew with a sudden, startling certainty that it was the +<i>Adelaide</i>—and Ruth Allaire—coming on, through into the horror +awaiting.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward tensely as a sound reached his ears. A ghostly echo +of a sound, like the softest of smooth, slipping fabric upon hard +steel. And as he listened, before his staring eyes, a something came +between him and the lighted yacht.</p> + +<p>It wavered and swung in the darkness. It was formless, uncertain of +outline, and it swung in the night out beyond the ship's rail till it +suddenly neared, waved high overhead, and the cold light of the stars +shone in pale reflection from an enormous, staring eye.</p> + +<p>It surmounted a serpentine form that took shape in the dim radiance +without and came lower in undulating folds to crash heavily upon the +deck.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>horpe's hand was upon the wireless key. He had wanted to warn off the +yacht, but not till the thud of the creature on the bare deck proved +its reality could he force his cold fingers to press the key.</p> + +<p>Then, fast as his inexperience allowed, he called frantically for the +<i>Adelaide</i>. He spelled her name, over and over.... Would the sleepy +operator never answer?</p> + +<p>The <i>Bennington</i> broke in one. "Is that you, Thorpe? What is up?" they +demanded.</p> + +<p>But Thorpe kept up his slow spelling of the yacht's name. He must get +a warning to them! Then he realized that the <i>Bennington</i> could do it +better.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bennington</i>," he called, "<i>Adelaide</i> approaching. I am attacked. +Warn them off. Warn them—" His frantic, hissing dots and dashes died +immediately. Beneath his feet the <i>Nagasaki Maru</i> was rolling again, +swinging free to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> lift and thrust of the swells beneath.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he shouted aloud in his lonely cabin. "It's gone for the +yacht. <i>Adelaide</i>—turn north—full speed—" he clicked off on a slow, +stuttering key. "Head north. You are being attacked!" He groaned again +as he saw the <i>Adelaide's</i> shining ports swing away from the safety of +the north; the ship broached broadside to the waves and came slowly to +a stop.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bennington</i>," he radioed. "Brent—it has got the <i>Adelaide</i>. +Help—hurry! I am going over."</p> + +<p>He tore wildly at the barred door, and he made a dash across the deck +to slip sprawling in a heap against the rail where the slimy traces of +the recent visitor stretched glistening on the deck.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ow he lowered the boat Thorpe never knew. But he knew there was one +that the men from the <i>Bennington</i> had swung over the side, and tore +madly at the tackle to let the boat crash miraculously upright into +the sea. He slung the rifle about his neck with a rope end—there were +cartridges in his pocket—and he went down the dangling lines and cast +off in a frenzy of haste.</p> + +<p>What could he do? He hardly dared form the question. Only this stood +clear and unanswerable in his mind: The yacht was in the monster's +grip, and Ruth Allaire was there on board. Ruth Allaire, so smiling, +so friendly, so lovable! Food for that horror from the depths.... He +rowed with super-human strength to drive the heavy boat across the +wave-swept distance that separated them.</p> + +<p>Between gasping breaths he turned at times to glance over his shoulder +and correct his course. And now, as he drew near, he saw though +indistinct the unmistakable, snakelike weaving of horrible tenuous +fingers, rolling and groping about the yacht.</p> + +<p>They were plain as he drew alongside. The trim ship rose and fell with +the water, while over her side where Thorpe approached swung a long, +white monstrous rope of flesh. It retreated like the lash of a whip, +and the horrified watcher saw as it went the struggling figure of a +man in the grasp of flabby lips. And above them a single eye glared +wickedly.</p> + +<p>Another vile, twisting arm rose from the afterdeck with a screaming +figure in its grasp and vanished into the water beyond the yacht. +There were others writhing about the decks. Thorpe saw them as he made +his boat fast and clambered aboard.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p> wave of reeking air enveloped him as he reached the deck; the +nauseous stench from the monster's tentacles was horrible beyond +endurance. He gagged and choked as the stifling breath entered his +lungs.</p> + +<p>A huge rope of slippery, throbbing flesh stretched its twisted length +toward the stern. It contracted as he watched into bulging muscular +rings and withdrew from the afterdeck. The deadly end of it stopped in +mid-air not twenty feet from where he stood. The jawlike pincers on it +held the limp form of an officer in its sucking grip, while above, in +a protuberance like a gnarled horn, a great eye glared into Thorpe's +with devilish hatred.</p> + +<p>The beak opened sharply to drop its unconscious burden upon the deck, +and the watching man, petrified with horror, saw within the gaping maw +great sucking discs and beyond them a brilliant glow. The whole +cavernous pit was aflame with phosphorescent light. Dimly he knew that +this light explained the ability of the beastly arms to grope so +surely in the dark.</p> + +<p>The eye narrowed as the gaping, fleshy jaws distended, and Robert +Thorpe, in a flash that galvanized him to action, was aware that his +fight for life was on. He fired blindly from the hip, and the recoil +of the heavy gun almost tore it from his hands. But he knew he had +aimed true, and the toothless, seeking jaws whipped in agony back into +the sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were other arms whose eyes were searching the stern of the +yacht. Thorpe plunged frenziedly down a companionway for the cabin he +knew was Ruth Allaire's. Was he in time? Could he save her if he found +her? His mind was in a turmoil of half-formed plans as he rushed madly +down the corridor to find the body of the girl a limp huddle across +the threshold of her cabin.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>he was alive; he knew it as he swung her soft body across one +shoulder and staggered with his burden up the stairs. If he could only +breathe! His throat was tight and strangling with the reeking +putrescence in the air. And before his eyes was a picture of the +strong oak bars of his own retreat. Somehow, some way, he must get +back to the abandoned ship.</p> + +<p>An eye detected him as he came on deck, and he dropped the limp body +of the girl at his feet as he swung his rifle toward the glowing light +within the opening jaws. The sucking discs cupped and wrinkled in +dread readiness in the fleshy, toothless opening. He emptied the +magazine into the head, though he knew this was only a feeler and a +feeder for a still more horrible mouth in the monstrous body that rose +and fell tremendously in the dark waters beyond. But it was typical of +Robert Thorpe that even in the horror and frenzy of the moment he +rammed another clip of cartridges into his rifle before he stooped to +again raise the prostrate figure of Ruth Allaire.</p> + +<p>The forward deck for the moment was clear; it rose high with the +weight of the writhing, twisting arms that weighed down the stern of +the yacht where the crew had taken refuge.</p> + +<p>To think of helping them was worse than folly—he dismissed the +thought as another great eye came over the rail. Once more he used the +gun, then lowered the girl to the waiting boat, and cast off and rowed +with the stealthiest of strokes into the dark.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ehind him were whipping points of light above the white brilliance of +the yacht <i>Adelaide</i>. The boat was tossing in great waves that came +from beyond, where a body, incredibly huge, was tearing the waters to +foam. There were ghostly arms that shone in slimy wetness, that lashed +searchingly in all directions, as the monster gave vent to its fury at +Thorpe's attack. There were screaming human figures grasped in many of +the jaws, and the man was glad with a great thankfulness that the +girl's stupor could save her from the frightful sight.</p> + +<p>He dared to row now, and his breath was coming in great choking sobs +of sheer exhaustion when at last he pulled the senseless form of Ruth +Allaire to the deck of the <i>Nagasaki</i> and drew her within the frail +shelter of the wireless room.</p> + +<p>Stout had the oaken bars appeared, and safe his refuge in the +barricaded room, but that was before he had seen in horrible reality +the fearful fury of this monster from the deep. He placed the braces +against the door and turned with hopeless haste to seize the wireless +key.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bennington</i>," he called, and the answer came strong and clear. +"Where are you.... Help—" His fingers froze upon the key and the +answering message in his ears was unheeded as he watched across the +water the destruction of the yacht.</p> + +<p>This craft that had dared to resist the onset of the brute, to fight +against it, to wound it, was feeling the full fury of the monster's +rage. The gleaming lights of the doomed ship were waving lines that +swept to and fro in the grip of those monstrous arms. The boat beneath +Thorpe's feet was tossing in the waves that told of the titanic +struggle. He had meant to look south for some sign of the oncoming +destroyer, but in fearful fascination he stared spellbound where the +masts of the trim yacht swept downward into the waves, where the green +of her star-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>board lantern glowed faintly for an instant, then +vanished, to leave only the darkness and the starlit sea.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p> voice aroused him from his stupefaction. "Where am I ... where am +I?" Ruth Allaire was asking in a frightened whisper. "That terrible +thing—" She shuddered violently as memory returned to show again the +horror she had witnessed. "Where are we, Robert? And the +<i>Adelaide</i>—where is it?"</p> + +<p>Thorpe turned slowly. The insane turmoil of the past hour had numbed +his brain, stunned him.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Adelaide</i>—" he mumbled, and groped fumblingly for coherent +thoughts. He stared at the girl. She was half-risen from the floor +where he had laid her, and the sight of her quivering face brought +reason again to his mind. He knelt tenderly beside her and raised her +in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Where is the yacht?" she repeated. "The <i>Adelaide</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Gone," Thorpe told her. "Lost!" A thought struck him.</p> + +<p>"Was your father on board, Ruth?"</p> + +<p>Ruth was dazed.</p> + +<p>"Lost," she repeated. "The <i>Adelaide</i>—lost!... No," she added in +belated response to Thorpe's question. "Daddy was not there. But the +men—Captain MacPherson ... that horrible monster...." She buried her +face in her hands as she realized what Thorpe's silence meant.</p> + +<p>He held the trembling figure close as the girl whispered: "Where are +we, Robert? Are we safe?"</p> + +<p>"We may win through yet," he told her through grim, set lips. He +realized abruptly that he was seeing the face of Ruth Allaire in the +light. He had left a lantern burning! He withdrew his arms from about +her and sprang quickly to his feet to put out the tell-tale light. In +darkness and quiet was their only safety. And he knew as he sprang +that he had waited too long. A soft body crashed heavily on the deck +outside.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he girl's voice was shrill with terror as she began a question. +Thorpe's hand pressed upon her lips in the dark where he stood +waiting—waiting.</p> + +<p>A luminous something was glowing outside the cabin. It searched and +prodded about the deserted deck to whip upward at the audible hiss of +wet carbide. Another appeared; the rifle came slowly to the man's +shoulder as a pair of jaws gaped glowingly beyond the windows and an +eye stared unblinkingly from its hornlike sheath. It crashed madly +against the walls of the wireless room to shatter the glass and make +kindling of the woodwork of the sash. Thorpe fired once and again +before the specter vanished, and he knew with sickening certainty that +the wounds were only messages to some central brain that would send +other ravening tentacles against them. But the oak bars had held.</p> + +<p>He reached in the brief interval for the key, and he sent out one +final call for help. He strained his ears against the head-set for +some friendly human word of hope.</p> + +<p>"—rocket," the wireless man was saying. "Fire rockets. We can't +find—" A swift, writhing arm wrapped crushingly about the cabin as +the message ceased.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>horpe seized his rifle and fired into the gray mass that bulged with +terrible muscular contractions through the window. He fired again to +aim lengthways of the arm and inflict as damaging a wound as his +weapon would permit.</p> + +<p>The arm relaxed, but a score of others took up the attack. Again the +sickening stench was about them as gaping jaws gleamed fiery beneath +the hateful eyes and tore at the flimsy structure. Thorpe jammed more +cartridges into the gun and fired again and again, then dropped the +weapon to fumble for the rockets that Brent had given him.</p> + +<p>He lighted one with trembling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> fingers; the first ball shot straight +into a waiting mouth. Another ignited a searing flame of acetlylene +gas where a wet arm writhed in the hot carbide trail. The man leaned +far out through the broken window.</p> + +<p>No time to look around. He let the red flares stream upward high into +the air, then dropped the rocket hissing on the deck to seize once +more the rifle.</p> + +<p>A mass of muscle crashed against the door; it went to splinters under +the impact, and only the two oak bars remained to hold in check the +horrible tentacles and the darting heads. One mouth closed to a +pointed end that forced its way between the bars. The oak gave under +the strain as Robert Thorpe pulled vainly at an empty gun. Beside him +rose shrieks of terror as the monstrous thing came on, and Thorpe beat +with frantic fury with his clubbed rifle at the fleshy snout.</p> + +<p>He knew as he swung the weapon that the shrieks had ceased, then +smiled grimly in the numbing horror as he realized that Ruth Allaire +was beside him. A piece of oak was in her hands, and she was striking +with desperate and silent fury at the slimy flesh.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was the end, Thorpe knew, and suddenly he was glad. The nightmare +was over, and the end was coming with this girl beside him. But Robert +Thorpe was fighting on to the last, and he tried to make his blows +reach outward to the hateful devilish eye.</p> + +<p>He saw it plainly now, for the deck was a glare of white light. He saw +the eye and the thick arm behind it and the score of others that made +a heaving, knotted mass were brilliant and wetly shining. He could see +now how best to strike, and he turned his gun to thrust with the +barrel at the eye.</p> + +<p>It withdrew before his stroke—the jaws slid backward to the deck. +There were sounds that hammered at his ears. "The guns! The guns!" a +girl was screaming. Across the deck, where a search-light played, +huge arms were lashing backward toward the sea. The waves beyond had +vanished where a monstrous body shone wetly black in a blinding glare.</p> + +<p>And the man hung panting, helpless, on the one remaining bar across +the doorway to look where, beyond, her forward guns a spitting stream +of staccato flashes, the <i>Bennington</i> tore the waves to high-thrown +spray. Her four clean funnels swung far over as the slim ship, with +her stabbing, crashing guns, swung in a sweeping circle to bear down +upon the black bulk slowly sinking in the search-light's glare.</p> + +<p>The vast body had vanished as the destroyer shot like one of her own +projectiles over the spot where the beast had lain. And then, where +she had passed, the sea arose in a heaving mound. The big ship beneath +the watching man shuddered again as another depth charge grumbled its +challenge to the master of the deeps.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he warship went careening on an arc to return and throw the full +glare of her search-lights on the scene. They lighted a vast sea, +strangely stilled. An oily smoothness leveled waves and ironed them +out to show more clearly the convulsions of a torn mass that rose +slowly into sight.</p> + +<p>Thorpe in some way found himself outside the cabin. And he knew that +the girl was again beside him as he stared and stared at what the +waters held. A bloated serpent form beyond believing was struggling in +the greasy swell. Its waving tentacles again were flung aloft in +impotent fury, and, beneath them, where their thick ends jointed the +body, a head with one horrible eye rose into the air. A thick-lipped +mouth gaped open, and the gleam of molars shone white in the blinding +glare.</p> + +<p>The twisting body shuddered throughout its vast bulk, and the waving +arms and futile staring eyes dropped helpless into the splashing sea. +Again the revolting head was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> raised as the destroyer sent a rain of +shells into its fearful mass. Once more the oily seas were calm. They +closed over the whirling vortex where a denizen of the lightless +depths was returning to those distant, subterranean caverns—returning +as food for what other voracious monsters might still exist.</p> + +<p>The man's arm was about the figure of the girl, trembling anew in a +fresh reaction from the horror they had escaped, when a small boat +drew alongside.</p> + +<p>"They're safe," a hoarse voice bellowed back to the destroyer, and a +man came monkeywise up a rope where Thorpe had launched his boat.</p> + +<p>And now, as one in a dream, Thorpe allowed the girl to be taken from +him, to be lowered to the waiting boat. He clambered down himself and +in silence was rowed across to the destroyer.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" said Brent, as he met them at the rail. "You're safe, old +man ... and Miss Allaire ... both of you! You let off that rocket just +in time; we couldn't pick you up with our light—</p> + +<p>"And now," he added, "we're going back; back to San Diego. The Admiral +wants a word of mouth report."</p> + +<p>Thorpe stilled him with a heavy gesture. "Give Ruth an opiate," he +said dully. "Let her forget ... forget!... Good God, can we ever +forget—" He stumbled forward, heedless of Brent's arm across his +shoulders as the surgeon took the girl in charge.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>dmiral Struthers, U.S.N., leaned back from his desk and blew a cloud +of smoke thoughtfully toward the ceiling. He looked silently from +Thorpe to Commander Brent.</p> + +<p>"If either one of you had come to me with such a report," he said +finally, "I would have found it incredible; I would have thought you +were entirely insane, or trying some wild hoax."</p> + +<p>"I wish it were a damn lie," said Thorpe quietly. "I wish I didn't +have to believe it." There were new lines about the young-old eyes, +lines that spoke what the lips would not confess of sleepless nights +and the impress of a picture he could not erase.</p> + +<p>"Well, we have kept it out of the papers," said the Admiral. "Said it was a +derelict, and the wild messages floating about were from an inexperienced +man, frightened and irresponsible. Bad advertising—very—for the passenger +lines."</p> + +<p>"Quite," Commander Brent agreed, "but of course Mr. Thorpe may want to +use this in his next book of travel. He has earned the right without +doubt."</p> + +<p>"No," said Thorpe emphatically. "No! I told you, Brent, there was +often a factual basis for fables—remember? Well, we have proved that. +But sometimes it is best to leave the fables just fables. I think you +will agree." A light step sounded in the corridor beyond. "Nothing of +this to Miss Allaire," he said sharply.</p> + +<p>The men rose as Ruth Allaire entered the room. "We were just +speaking," said the Admiral with an engaging smile beneath his +close-cut mustache, "of the matter of a bet. Mr. Thorpe has won +handily, and he has taught me a lesson."</p> + +<p>He took a check book from his desk. "What charity would you like to +name, Miss Allaire? That was left to you, you remember."</p> + +<p>"Some seamen's home," said Ruth Allaire gravely. "You will know best, +if you two are really serious about that silly bet."</p> + +<p>"That bet, my dear," said Robert Thorpe with smiling eyes, "was very +serious ... and it has had most serious consequences." He turned to +the waiting men and extended a hand in farewell.</p> + +<p>"We are going to Europe, Ruth and I," he told them. "Just rambling +around a bit. Our honeymoon, you know. Look us up if you're cruising +out that way."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" alt=""As the madness grew, the two men fought. They were +murder mad. The local sub-deputy gave his guests the thrill of +watching maniacs battling to the death."" width="600" height="475" class="img1" /> +<span class="caption">"As the madness grew, the two men fought. They were +murder mad. The local sub-deputy gave his guests the thrill of +watching maniacs battling to the death."</span></div> + +<h2><a name="Murder_Madness" id="Murder_Madness"></a>Murder Madness</h2> + +<h4>PART TWO OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL</h4> +<h3><i>By Murray Leinster</i></h3> + +<div class="sidenote">Bell, of the secret "Trade," strikes into the South +American jungle to find the hidden stronghold of The Master—the +unknown monster whose diabolical poison swiftly and surely is +enslaving the whole continent.</div> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>even United States Secret Service men have disappeared in South +America. Another is found—a screaming homicidal maniac. It is rumored +that they are victims of a diabolical poison which produces "murder +madness."</p> + +<p>Charley Bell, of the "Trade"—a secret service organization that does +not officially exist—discovers that a sinister system of slavery is +flourishing in South America, headed by a mysterious man known only as +The Master. This slavery is accomplished by means of a poison which +causes its victims to experience a horrible writhing of the hands, +followed by a madness to do murder, two weeks after the poison is +taken.</p> + +<p>The victims get relief only with an antidote supplied through Ribiera, +The Master's Chief Deputy; but in the antidote there is more of the +poison which again in two weeks will take effect. And so it is that a +person who once receives the poison is forever enslaved.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="525" class="img1" /></div> + +<p>Bell learns that Ribiera has kidnapped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> Paula Canalejas, daughter of a +Brazilian cabinet minister—himself a victim—who has killed himself +on feeling the "murder madness," caused by the poison, coming over +him. Bell corners Ribiera in his home, buries the muzzles of two +six-guns in his stomach, and demands that he set Paula free.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER VI</h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>n this room the electric lights were necessary at all times. And it +occurred to Bell irrelevantly that perhaps there were no windows +because there might be sometimes rather noisy scenes within these +walls. And windows will convey the sound of screaming to the outside +air, while solid walls will not.</p> + +<p>He stood alert and grim, with his revolvers pressing into Ribiera's +flabby flesh. His fingers were tensed upon the triggers. If he killed +Ribiera, he would be killed. Of course. And men and women he had known +and liked might be doomed to the most horrible of fates by Ribiera's +death. Yet even the death or madness of many men was preferable to the +success of the conspiracy in which Ribiera seemed to figure largely.</p> + +<p>Ribiera looked up at him with the eyes of a terrified snake. There was +a little stirring at the door.</p> + +<p>"Your friends," said Bell softly, "had better not come close."</p> + +<p>Ribiera gasped an order. The stirrings stopped. Paula came slowly into +the room quite alone. She smiled queerly at Bell.</p> + +<p>"I believed that you would come," she said quietly. "And yet I do not +know that we can escape."</p> + +<p>"We're going to try," said Bell grimly. To Ribiera he added curtly, +"You'd better order the path cleared to the door, and have one of your +cars brought around."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ibiera croaked a repetition of the command.</p> + +<p>"Now stand up—slowly," said Bell evenly. "Very slowly. I don't want +to die, Ribiera, so I don't want to kill you. But I haven't much hope +of escape, so I shan't hesitate very long about doing it. And I've got +these guns' hammers trembling at full cock. If I get a bullet through +my head, they'll go off just the same and kill you."</p> + +<p>Ribiera got up. Slowly. His face was a pasty gray.</p> + +<p>"Your major-domo," Bell told him matter-of-factly, "will go before us +and open every door on both sides of the way to the street. Paula"—he +used her given name without thought, or without realizing it—"Paula +will go and look into each door. If she as much as looks frightened, I +fire, and try to fight the rest of the way clear. Understand? I'm +going to get down to a boat I have ready in the harbor if I have to +kill you and every living soul in the house!"</p> + +<p>There was no boat in the harbor, naturally. But the major-domo moved +hesitantly across the room, looking at his master for orders. For +Ribiera to die meant death or madness to his slaves. The major-domo's +face was ghastly with fear. He moved onward, and Bell heard the sound +of doors being thrust wide. Once he gave a command in the staccato +fashion of a terrified man. Bell nodded grimly.</p> + +<p>"Now we'll move. Slowly, Ribiera! Always slowly.... Ah! That's better! +Paula, you go on before and look into each room. I shall be sorry if +any of your servants follow after you, Ribiera.... Through the +doorway. Yes! All clear, Paula? I'm balancing the hammers very +carefully, Ribiera. Very delicate work. It is fortunate for you that +my nerves are rather steady. But really, I don't much care.... Still +all clear before us, Paula? With the servants nerve-racked as they +are, I believe we'll make it through, even if I do kill Ribiera. +There'll be no particular point in killing us then. It won't help +them. Don't stumble, please, Ribiera.... Go carefully, and very +slowly...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ibiera's face was a gray mask of terror when they reached the door. A +long, low car with two men on the chauffeur's seat was waiting.</p> + +<p>"Only one man up front, Ribiera," said Bell dryly. "No ostentation, +please. Now, I hope your servants haven't summoned the police, because +they might want to stop me from marching you out there with a gun in +the small of your back. And that would be deplorable, Ribiera. Quite +deplorable."</p> + +<p>With a glance, he ordered Paula into the tonneau. He followed her, +driving Ribiera before him. There seemed to be none about but the +stricken, terrified servant who had opened the door for their exit.</p> + +<p>"My friend," Bell told the major-domo grimly, "I'll give you a bit of +comfort. I'm not going to try to take the Senhor Ribiera away with me. +Once I'm on board the yacht that waits for me, I'll release him so he +can keep you poor devils sane until my Government has found a way to +beat this devilish poison of his. Then I'll come back and kill him. +Now you can tell the chauffeur to drive us to the Biera Mar."</p> + +<p>He settled back in his seat. There were beads of perspiration on his +forehead, but he could not wipe them off. He held the two revolvers +against Ribiera's flabby body.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he car turned the corner, and he added dryly:</p> + +<p>"Your servants, Ribiera, will warn your more prominent slaves of my +intention of going on board a yacht. Preparations will be made to stop +every pleasure boat and search it for me. So ... tell your chauffeur +to swing about and make for the flying field. And tell him to drive +carefully, by the way. I've still got these guns on a very fine +adjustment of the trigger-pressure."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ribiera croaked the order. Bell was exactly savage enough to kill him +if he did not escape.</p> + +<p>For twenty minutes the car sped through the residential districts of +Rio. The sun was high in the air, but clouds were banking up above the +Pao d'Assucar—the Sugarloaf—and it looked as if there might be one +of the sudden summer thunderstorms that sometimes sweep Rio.</p> + +<p>Then the clear road to the flying field. Rio has the largest +metropolitan district in the world, but a great deal of it is piled on +end, and Rio itself built on most of the rest. The flying field is +necessarily some miles from even the residential districts, for the +sake of a level plain of sufficient area.</p> + +<p>The car shot ahead through practically untouched jungle, interspersed +with tiny clearings in which were patchwork houses that might have +been a thousand miles in the interior instead of so near the center of +all civilization in Brazil. Up smooth gradients. Around beautifully +engineered curves.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell put aside one revolver long enough to search Ribiera carefully. +He found a pearl-handled automatic, and handed it to Paula.</p> + +<p>"Worth having," he said cheerfully. "I wonder if you'd mind searching +the chauffeur: with that gun at his head I think he'd be peaceful. You +needn't have him stop."</p> + +<p>Paula stood up, smiling a little.</p> + +<p>"I did not think I lacked courage, Senhor," she observed, "but you +have taught me more."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nil desperandum</i>," said Bell lightly. He relaxed deliberately. +Matters would be tense at the flying field, and he would need to be +wholly calm. There was little danger of an attempt at rescue here, and +the necessity of being ready to shoot Ribiera at any instant was no +longer a matter of split seconds.</p> + +<p>He watched, while, bent over the back of the front seat, she extracted +two squat weapons from the chauffeur's pockets.</p> + +<p>"Quite an arsenal," said Bell as he pocketed them. He turned +pleasantly to Ribiera. "Now, Ribiera, you understand just what I want. +That big amphibian plane of yours is fairly fast, and once when I was +merely your guest you assured me that it was always kept fueled and +even provisioned for a long flight. When we reach the flying field I +want it rolled out and warmed up, over at the other end of the field +from the flying line. We'll go over to it in the car.</p> + +<p>"And I've thought of something. It worried me, before, because +sometimes if a man's shot he merely relaxes all over. So while we're +at the flying field I'm going to be holding back the triggers of these +guns with my thumbs. I don't have to pull the trigger at all—just let +go and they'll go off. It isn't so fine an adjustment as I had just +now, but it's safer for you as long as you behave. And you might urge +your chauffeur to be cautious. I do hope, Ribiera, that you won't look +as if you were frightened. If there's any hitch, and delay for letting +some fuel out of the tanks or messing up the motors, I'll be very +sorry for you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he car swooped out into bright sunshine. The flying field lay below, +already in the shadow of the banking clouds above. Hangars lay +stretched out across the level space.</p> + +<p>Through the gates. Ribiera licked his lips. Bell jammed the revolver +muzzles closer against his sides. The chauffeur halted the car. Paula +spoke softly to him. He stiffened. Bell found it possible to smile +faintly.</p> + +<p>Ribiera gave orders. There was a moment's pause—the revolver muzzles +went deeper into his side—and he snarled a repetition. The official +cringed and moved swiftly.</p> + +<p>"You have chosen your slaves well, Ribiera," said Bell coolly. "They +seem to occupy all strategic positions. We'll ride across."</p> + +<p>The gears clashed. The car swerved forward and went deliberately +across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> the wide clear space that was the flying field. It halted near +the farther side. In minutes the door of a hangar swung wide. There +was the sputtering of a not-yet-warmed-up motor. The big plane came +slowly out, its motors coughing now and then. It swung clumsily across +the field, turned in a wide circle, and stopped some forty or fifty +feet from the car.</p> + +<p>"Send the mechanic back, on foot," said Bell softly.</p> + +<p>Again Ribiera found it expedient to snarl. And Bell added, gently, +while the throttled-down motors of the big amphibian boomed on:</p> + +<p>"Now get out of the car."</p> + +<p>Tiny figures began to gaze curiously at them from the row of hangars. +The mechanic, starting back on foot, the four people getting out of +the car, the big plane waiting....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>ith his revolver ready and aimed at Ribiera's bulk, Bell reached in +the front of the car and turned off the switch. The motor died +abruptly. He put the key in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Just to get a minute or two extra start," he said dryly. "Climb up in +the plane, Paula."</p> + +<p>She obeyed, and turned at the top.</p> + +<p>"I will cover them until you are up," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>Bell laughed, now. A genuine laugh, for the first time in many days.</p> + +<p>"We do work together!" he said cheerfully.</p> + +<p>But he backed up the ladder. There was a stirring over by the hangars. +The mechanic who had taxied the plane to this spot was a dwindling +speck, no more than a third of the way across the field. But even from +the distant hangars it could be seen that something was wrong.</p> + +<p>"Close the door, Paula," said Bell. He had seated himself at the +controls, and scanned the instruments closely.</p> + +<p>This machine was heavy and large and massive. The boat-body between +the retractable wheels added weight to the structure, and when Bell +gave it the gun it seemed to pick up speed with an irritating +slowness, and to roll and lurch very heavily when it did begin to +approach flying speed. The run was long before the tail came up. It +was longer before the joltings lessened and the plane began to rise +slowly, with the solid steadiness that only a large and heavily loaded +plane can compass.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_u.jpg" alt="U" width="49" height="50" /></div> +<p>p, and up.... Bell was three hundred feet high when he crossed the +hangars and saw tiny faces staring up at him. Some of the small +figures were pointing across the field. The big plane circled widely, +gaining altitude, and Bell gazed down. Ribiera was gesticulating +wildly, pointing upward to the soaring thing, shaking his fist at it, +and making imperious, frantic motions of command.</p> + +<p>Bell took one quick glance all about the horizon. Toward the sea the +sun shone down brilliantly upon the city. Inland a broad white wall of +advancing rain moved toward the coastline. And Bell smiled frostily, +and flung the big ship into a dive and swooped down upon Ribiera as a +hawk might swoop at a chicken.</p> + +<p>Ribiera saw the monster thing bearing down savagely, its motors +bellowing, its nose pointed directly at him. And there is absolutely +nothing more terrifying upon the earth than to see a plane diving upon +you with deadly intent. A panic that throws back to non-human +ancestors seizes upon a man. He feels the paralysis of those ancient +anthropoids who were preyed upon by dying races of winged monsters in +the past. That racial, atavistic terror seizes upon him.</p> + +<p>Bell laughed, though it sounded more like a bark, as Ribiera flung +himself to the ground and screamed hoarsely when the plane seemed +about to pounce upon him. The shrill timbre of the shriek cut through +the roaring of the motors, even through the thick padding of the big +plane's cabin walls that reduced that roaring to a not intolerable +growl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ut the plane passed ten feet or more above his head. It rose, and +climbed steeply, and passed again above the now buzzing, agitated +hangars, and climbed above the hills behind the flying field as some +men went running and others moved by swifter means toward the shaken, +nerve-racked Ribiera, on whose lips were flecks of foam.</p> + +<p>Bell looked far below and far behind him. The incredible greenness of +tropic verdure, of the jungle which rings Rio all about. The many +glitterings of sunlight upon glass, and upon the polished domes of +sundry public buildings, and the multitudinous shimmerings of the +tropic sun upon the bay. The deep dark shadow of the banking clouds +drew a sharp line across the earth, and deep in that shadow lay the +flying field, growing small and distant as the plane flew on. But +specks raced across the wide expanse. In a peculiar, irrational +fashion those specks darted toward a nearly invisible speck, and +encountered other specks darting away from that nearly invisible +speck, and gradually all the specks were turned about and racing for +the angular, toy-block squares which were the hangars of the +aeroplanes of the city of Rio de Janeiro.</p> + +<p>Little white things appeared from those hangars—planes being thrust +out into the open air while motes of men raced agitatedly about them. +One of them was suddenly in motion. It moved slowly and clumsily +across the ground, and then abruptly moved more swiftly. It seemed to +float upward and to swing about in mid-air. It came floating toward +the amphibian, though apparently nearly stationary against the sky. +Another moved jerkily, and another....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>ust before the big plane dived into the wide white wall of falling +water, the air behind it seemed to swarm with aircraft.</p> + +<p>In the cabin of the amphibian, of course, the bellowing of the motors +outside was muffled to a certain degree. Paula clung to the seats and +moved awkwardly up to the place beside Bell. She had just managed to +seat herself when the falling sheet of water obliterated all the +world.</p> + +<p>"Strap yourself in your seat," he said in her ear above the persistent +tumult without. "Then you might adjust my safety-belt. Well be flying +blind in this rain. I hope the propellers hold."</p> + +<p>She fumbled, first at the belt beside his upholstered chair, and only +afterward adjusted her own. He sent a quick glance at her.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't have done that," he said quietly. "I can manage somehow."</p> + +<p>The plane lurched and tumbled wildly. He kicked rudder and jerked on +the stick, watching the instrument board closely. In moments the wild +gyrations ceased.</p> + +<p>"The beginning of this," he said evenly, "is going to be hectic. +There'll be lightning soon."</p> + +<p>Almost on his words the gray mist out the cabin windows seemed to +flame. There was thunder even above the motors. But the faint, +perceptible trembling of the whole plane under the impulse of its +engines kept on. Bell kept his eyes on the bank and turn indicator, +glancing now and then at the altimeter.</p> + +<p>"We've got to climb," he said shortly, "up where the lightning is, +too. We want to pass the Serra da Carioca with room to spare, or we'll +crash on it."</p> + +<p>There was no noticeable change in the progress of the plane, of +course. Rain was dashing against the windows of the cabin with an +incredible velocity. Rain at a hundred miles an hour acts more like +hail than water, anyhow, and Bell was trusting grimly to the hope that +the propellers were of steel, which will withstand even hail, and a +hope that the blast through the engine cowlings would keep the wiring +free of water-made short circuits.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ut the air was bad beyond belief. At times the plane spun like +thistledown in a vast and venomous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> flood that crashed into the +windows with a vicious rattling. Lightning began and grew fiercer. It +seemed at times as if the plane were whirling crazily in sheer +incandescent flame. The swift air-currents at the beginning of a +tropic thunderstorm were here multiplied in trickiness and velocity by +the hills of the Serra da Carioca, and Bell was flying blind as well. +The safety-belts were needed fifty times within twenty minutes, as the +big ship was flung about by fierce blasts that sometimes blew even the +rain upward for a time. And over all, as the amphibian spun madly, and +toppled crazily and fought for height, there was the terrific, +incessant crashing of thunder which was horribly close, and the +crackling flares of lightning all about.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to take a chance," said Bell curtly above the uproar, with +the windows seeming to look out upon the fires of hell. "I think we're +high enough. The compass has gone crazy, but I'm going to risk it."</p> + +<p>Again there was no perceptible alteration in the motion of the ship, +but he fought it steadily toward the west. And it seemed that he +actually was passing beyond the first fierce fringe of the storm, +because the lightning became—well, not less frequent, but less +continuous.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>nd suddenly, in a blinding flare of light that made every separate +raindrop look like a speck of molten metal, he saw another airplane. +It was close. Breath-takingly close. It came diving down out of +nowhere and passed less than twenty yards before the nose of the +amphibian. It glistened with wet, and glittered unbearably in the +incredible brightness of the lightning. Every spot and speck and +detail showed with an almost ghastly distinctness. But it dived on +past, its pilot rigid and tense and unseeing, plunging like a meteor +straight downward. The golden, iridescent mist of rain closed over its +body. And it was gone.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Bell was driving onward through a gray obscurity, +which now was no more than tinted pink by receding lightning-flashes. +The air was still uneven and treacherous. The big plane hurtled +downward hundreds of feet in wild descending gusts among the hills, +and was then flung upward on invisible billows of air for other +hundreds of feet. But it was less uncontrollable. There were periods +of minutes when the safety-belts did not come into use.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>nd later still, half an hour perhaps, the steadiness of the air gave +assurance that the plane was past the range of the Serra da Carioca +and was headed inland. He drove on, watching his instruments and +flying blind, but with a gathering confidence in an ultimate escape +from the swarm of aircraft Ribiera had sent aloft in the teeth of the +storm to hunt for him. The motors hummed outside the padded cabin. The +girl beside him was very quiet and very still and very pale.</p> + +<p>"We want to get out of this before long," he said in her ear, "and +then we can find out where we are, and especially begin to make some +plans for ourselves."</p> + +<p>Her eyes turned to him. There was a curious stiffness in her manner. +It might have seemed reserve, but Bell recognized the symptoms of a +woman whose self-control is hanging by a thread. He smiled.</p> + +<p>"Hold on a while yet," he said gently. "I know you want to cry. But +please hold on a while yet. When we reach friends...."</p> + +<p>Her hands went to her throat, and he could feel the effort of will +that kept her voice steady.</p> + +<p>"Friends? We have no friends." She managed a smile. "The Senhor +Ribiera explained to me when I arrived at his house how it was that no +questions would be asked about my disappearance. My father is dead. +The newspapers this morning said that it was not known whether he +killed himself or was assassinated. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> Senhor Ribiera has given +orders to his slaves. The newspapers of this afternoon will inform a +horrified world that you and I, together, murdered my father that we +might flee together with such of his riches as he had actually +gathered together for me to take away. We are murderers, my friend. +Cables and telegraph wires are reporting the news. The daughter of the +Minister of War of the Republic of Brazil was assisted by her lover to +murder her father. She has fled with him. Now—where are we still to +find friends?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell stared, for the fraction of an instant. One thought came to him, +and was checked. The Trade does not exist, anywhere. The Trade would +not help. And murderers are always duly handed over when the +Government of the United States is requested politely to do so by +another nation. Always. And so far as the whole civilized world was +concerned they were murderers. Even the employees of the flying field +who were not subject to The Master would swear to the strictly +accurate story of their escape together.</p> + +<p>"It is just scandalous enough and horrible enough," said Bell quietly, +"to be reprinted everywhere as news. You're right. We haven't any +friends. We're up against it. And so I think we'll have to hunt down +and kill The Master. Then we'll be believed. And there are just two of +us, with what weapons we have in our pockets, to attack. How many +thousands of slaves do you suppose The Master has by now?"</p> + +<p>And, quite suddenly, he laughed.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER VII</h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he sun was sinking slowly when the plane appeared above the valley. +There was only jungle below. Jungle, and the languid river which now +flowed sluggishly into a wide and shallow pool in which drowned trees +formed a mass of substance neither land nor marsh nor river. The +river now contracted to a narrow space and showed signs of haste, and +even foaming water, and then again flowed placidly onward, sometimes +even a hundred yards in breadth. Shadows of the mountains to the west +were creeping toward the opposite hill-flanks, darkening the thick +foliage and sending flocks of flying things home to their chosen +roosts.</p> + +<p>The sound of the plane was a buzzing noise, which grew louder to a +sharp drone as it seemed to increase in size, and became a dull +monotonous roar as it dipped toward the waters of the stream. It +floated downward, very gently, and circled as if regarding a certain +spot critically, and resumed its onward flight. Again it circled, +anxiously, now, as if the time for alighting were short.</p> + +<p>It seemed to hesitate in mid-air, and dived, and circled up-stream and +came down the valley again. It sank, and sank, lower and lower, until +the white of its upper wings was hidden by the tall trees on either +side.</p> + +<p>A <i>jabiru</i> stork saw it from downstream, solemnly squatting on four +eggs which eventually would perpetuate the race. The <i>jabiru</i> was +about forty feet above the water and had a clear view of the stream. +The stork squatted meditatively, with its long, naked neck projecting +above the edge of its nest.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he plane dipped ever lower, its reflection vivid and complete upon +the waveless stream below it. Ten feet above the water. Five—and +swift ripples from the rush of air disturbed the unbroken reflections +behind. It was almost a silhouette against the mirrored appearance of +the sunset sky. And then a clumsy-seeming boat body touched water with +a vast hissing sound, and settled more and more heavily, while the +speed of the plane checked markedly and its motors roared on +senselessly.</p> + +<p>Then, abruptly, the plane checked and partly swung around. The +<i>jabiru</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> half-rose from its eggs. The motors were bellowing wildly +again. As if tearing itself free, the plane sheered off from some +invisible obstacle, one of its wing tip floats splashed water wildly, +and, with the motors thundering at their fullest speed, it went toward +the shore with a dragging wing, like some wounded bird.</p> + +<p>It beached, and the <i>jabiru</i> heard a sudden dense silence fall. A man +climbed out of the boatlike body. He walked to the bow and dropped to +the shore. He peered under the upward slanting nose of the boat-thing. +The <i>jabiru</i>, listening intently, heard words.</p> + +<p>Then, quite suddenly and quite abruptly, and generally with the +unostentatious efficiency with which Nature manages such things in the +tropics, night fell. It was dark within minutes.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he noise of Bell's scrambling back onto the deck of the amphibian's +hull could be heard inside the cabin. He opened the door and slipped +down inside.</p> + +<p>"There ought to be some lights," he said curtly. "Ribiera did himself +rather well, as a rule."</p> + +<p>He struck a match. Paula's eyes shone in the match-flame, fixed upon +his face. He looked about, frowning. He found a switch and pressed it, +and a dome-light came into being. The cabin of the plane, from a place +of darkness comparable to that of the jungle all about, became +suddenly a cosy and comfortable place.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Paula quietly.</p> + +<p>Bell hesitated, and took a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"We're stuck," he said wryly. "We must have struck a snag or perhaps a +rock, just under water. Half the bottom of the hull's torn out. +There's no hope of repair. If I hadn't given her the gun and beached +her, we'd have sunk in mid-stream."</p> + +<p>Paula said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Things are piling on us," said Bell grimly. "In the morning I'll try +to make a raft. We can't stay here indefinitely. I'll hunt for maps +and we'll try to plan something out. But I'll admit that this business +worries me—the plane being smashed."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e passed his hand harassedly over his forehead. To have escaped from +Rio was something, but since Paula had told him Ribiera's plans, it +was clearly but the most temporary of successes. Cabinet ministers are +not so commonplace but that the scandalous and horrifying crime that +was imputed to Bell and Paula would be printed in every foreign +country. Newspapers in Tokio would include the supposed murder in +their foreign news, and in Bucharest and even Constantinople it would +merit a paragraph or two. Assuredly every South American country would +discuss the matter editorially, even where The Master's deputies did +not order it published far and wide. There would be pictures of Bell +and of Paula, labeled with an infamy. In every town of all Brazil +their faces would be known, and those who were The Master's slaves +would hunt them desperately, and all honorable men would seek them for +a crime. Even in America there would be no safety for them. The Trade +does not exist, officially, and a member of the Trade must get out of +trouble as he can. As an accused murderer, Bell would be arrested +anywhere. As worse than a mere murderess, Paula....</p> + +<p>She was watching his face.</p> + +<p>"This morning," she said queerly, "you—you quoted '<i>Nil +desperandum</i>.'"</p> + +<p>Bell ground his teeth, and then managed to smile.</p> + +<p>"If I looked like I needed you say that," he said coolly, "I deserve +to be kicked. Let's look for something to eat, and count up our +resources. The thing to do is, when you fall down—bounce!"</p> + +<p>He managed a nearly genuine grin, then, and to his intense amazement, +she sobbed suddenly and bent her head down and began to weep. He +stared at her in stupefaction for an instant, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> swore at himself +for a fool. Her father....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>alf an hour later he roused her as gently as he could. It was +helplessness, as much as anything else, that had made him leave her +alone; but a woman needs to weep now and then. And Paula assuredly had +excuse.</p> + +<p>"Here's a cup of coffee," he said practically, "which you must drink. +You can't have had anything to eat all day. Have you?"</p> + +<p>That question had haunted him too. She had been a prisoner in +Ribiera's house for half an hour, possibly more. And Ribiera had in +his possession, and used, a deadly, devilish poison from some unknown +noxious plant. Its victim took the poison unknowingly, in a morsel of +food or a glass of water or of wine. And for two weeks there was no +sign of evil. And then the poison drove its victim swiftly mad—unless +the antidote was obtained from Ribiera. And Ribiera administered the +antidote with a further dose of poison.</p> + +<p>If Paula had eaten one scrap of food or drunk one drop of water while +Ribiera's captive....</p> + +<p>She understood. She looked up suddenly, and read the awful anxiety in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"No. Nothing." She caught her breath and steadied herself with an +effort of the will. "I understand. You tried not to let me fear. But I +ate nothing, touched nothing. I have not that to fear, at least."</p> + +<p>"Drink this coffee," said Bell, smiling. "Ribiera was a luxurious +devil. There's canned stuff and so on in a locker. He was prepared for +a forced landing anywhere. Flares and rockets will do us no good, but +there are a pair of machetes and a sporting rifle with shells. We +don't need to die for a bit, anyhow."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>aula obediently took the coffee. He watched her anxiously as she +drank.</p> + +<p>"Now some soup," he urged, "and the rest of this condensed stuff. And +I've found some maps and there's a radio receiving outfit if—"</p> + +<p>Paula managed to smile.</p> + +<p>"You want to know," she said, "if I can endure listening to it. Yes. +I—I should not have given way just now. But I can endure anything."</p> + +<p>Bell still hesitated, regarding her soberly.</p> + +<p>"I've heard," he said awkwardly, "that in Brazil the conventions...."</p> + +<p>She waited, looking at him with her large eyes.</p> + +<p>"I hoped," said Bell, still more unhappily, "to find this place +Moradores, where you said you had some relatives. I hoped to find it +before dark. But before I landed I knew I'd missed it and couldn't +hope to locate it to-night. I thought—"</p> + +<p>"You thought," said Paula, smiling suddenly, "that my reputation would +be jeopardized. And you were about to offer—"</p> + +<p>Bell winced.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't mean to act like an ass," he said apologetically, +"but some people...."</p> + +<p>"You forget," said Paula, with the same faint smile, "what the +newspapers will say of us, Senhor. You forget what news of us the +cables have carried about the world. I think that we had better forget +about the conventions. As the daughter of a Brazilian, that remark is +heresy. But did you know that my mother came from Maryland?"</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" said Bell relievedly. "Then you can believe that I'm not +thinking exclusively of you, and maybe we'll get somewhere."</p> + +<p>Paula put out her hand. He grasped it firmly.</p> + +<p>"Right!" he said, more cheerfully than ever before. "Now we'll turn on +the radio and see what news we get."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>nto the deep dark jungle night, then, a strange incongruity was +thrust. Tall trees loomed up toward the stars. A nameless little +stream<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> flowed placidly through the night and, beached where +impenetrable undergrowth crowded to the water's edge, a big amphibian +plane lay slightly askew, while a light glowed brightly in its cabin. +More, from that cabin there presently emerged the incredible sound of +music, played in Rio for <i>os gentes</i> of the distinctly upper strata of +society by a bored but beautifully trained orchestra.</p> + +<p>The <i>jabiru</i> stork heard it, and craned its featherless neck to stare +downward through beady eyes. But it was not frightened. Presently, +instead of music, there was a man's voice booming in the disconnected +sounds of human speech. And still the <i>jabiru</i> was unalarmed. Like +most of the birds whose necks are bald, the <i>jabiru</i> is a useful +scavenger, and so is tolerated in the haunts of men. And if man's +gratitude is not enough for safety, the <i>jabiru</i> smells very, very +badly, and no man hunts his tribe.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell had been listening impatiently, when a sudden whining, whistling +noise broke into the program of very elevated music, played utterly +without rest. The sound came from the speaker, of course.</p> + +<p>He frowned thoughtfully. The whistling changed in timbre and became +flutelike, then changed again, nearly to its original pitch and tone.</p> + +<p>Paula was not listening. Her mind seemed very far away, and on +subjects the reverse of pleasurable.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" said Bell suddenly. "You hear that whistle? It came on all +at once!"</p> + +<p>Paula waited. The whistling noise went on. It was vaguely discordant, +and it was monotonous, and it was more than a little irritating. Again +it changed timbre, going up to the shrillest of squealings, and back +nearly to its original sound an instant later.</p> + +<p>Bell began to paw over maps. The plane had been intended for flight +over the vast distances of Brazil, and there was a small supply of +condensed food and a sporting rifle and shells included in its +equipment. Emergency landing fields are not exactly common in the back +country of South America.</p> + +<p>"Here," said Bell sharply. "Here is where we are. It must be where we +are! No towns of any size nearby. No railroad. No boat route. Nothing! +Nothing but jungle shown here!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e frowned absorbedly over the problem.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Paula.</p> + +<p>"Someone near," said Bell briefly. "That's another radio receiver, an +old fashioned regenerative set, sensitive enough and reliable enough, +but a nuisance to everyone but its owner—except when it's a godsend, +as it is to us."</p> + +<p>The music ended, and a voice announced in laboriously classic +Portuguese, with only a trace of the guttural tonation of the +<i>carioca</i>, that the most important news items of the day would be +given.</p> + +<p>Paula paled a little, but listened without stirring. The voice +read—the rustling of sheets of paper was abnormally loud—a bit of +foreign news, and a bit of local news, and then....</p> + +<p>She was deathly pale when the announcement of her father's death was +finished, and she had heard the official view of the police +reported—exactly what Ribiera had told her it would be. When the +voice added that a friend of the late Minister of War, the Senhor +Ribiera, had offered twenty contos for the capture of the fugitive +pair, who had escaped in an airplane stolen from him, she bit her lip +until it almost bled.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p> know," he said abstractedly. "It's as you said. But listen to that +whistle."</p> + +<p>The news announcement ceased. Music began again. The whistling +abruptly died away.</p> + +<p>"I just found some coils," said Bell feverishly, "that plug in to take +the place of the longer-wave ones. I'm going to try them. It's a +hunch, and it's crazy, but...."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were sharp clickings. The radio receiver was one of those +extraordinarily light and portable ones that are made for aircraft. In +seconds it was transformed into a short-wave receiver. Bell began to +manipulate the dials feverishly. Two minutes. Three. Four.</p> + +<p>The speaker suddenly began to whine softly and monotonously.</p> + +<p>"Regeneration," said Bell feverishly, "on a carrier-wave. It can't be +far off, that receiving set."</p> + +<p>Suddenly a voice spoke. It was blurred and guttural. Infinitely +delicate adjustments cleared it up. And then....</p> + +<p>Bell listened eagerly, at first in triumph, then in amazement, and at +last in a grim satisfaction. Reports from Rio on a short-wave band of +radio frequencies were passing from Ribiera to some other place +apparently inland. It was Ribiera's own voice, which quivered with +rage as he reported Bell's escape.</p> + +<p>"<i>I do not think</i>," he snapped in Portuguese, "<i>that full details +should be spoken even on beam wireless. I shall come to the</i> fazenda +<i>to-morrow and communicate with The Master direct. In the meantime I +have warned all sub-deputies in Brazil. I urge that all deputies be +informed and instructed as The Master may direct.</i>"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>nother voice replied that The Master would be informed. In the +meantime the deputy for Brazil was notified.</p> + +<p>This list of bits of information chilled Bell's blood. This man, of +Venezuela, had been denied the grace of The Master by the deputy in +Caracas. He would probably use the passwords and demand the grace of +The Master of sub-deputies in the State of Pará. To be seized and +Caracas informed. The deputy in Colombia desired that the son of +Colonel García—upon a hunting-party with friends in the Amazon +basin—should be attached to the service of The Master. His father had +been so attached, and it was believed had smuggled a letter into the +foreign mail warning his son. If possible, that letter should be +intercepted. And from Paraguay the deputy requested that the family of +Senor Gomez, visiting relatives in Rio, should be induced to regard +the service of The Master as desirable....</p> + +<p>The orders ceased abruptly. Ribiera acknowledged them. The whining +whistle cut off. And Bell turned to Paula very grimly indeed.</p> + +<p>"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked in a vast calmness. "Apparently every +nation on the continent has some devil like Ribiera in charge of the +administration of this fiendish poison. Every republic has some fiend +at work in it. And they're organized. My God! They're organized! The +Master seems to supply them with the mixture of poison and its +antidote, and they report to him...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>aula nodded.</p> + +<p>"That was what my father had written down for you," she said quietly. +"Any man who can be lured to eat or drink anything these men have +prepared is lost. He gains no pleasure, as a drug might give. He is +entrapped into a lifetime of awful fear, knowing that a moment's +disobedience, a moment's reluctance to obey whatever command they +give, will cause his madness."</p> + +<p>"I'm trying to think what we can work out of this," said Bell shortly. +"Some things are clear. There's a radio receiving set nearby, which +listened to those short-wave reports. Within five or six miles, at +most. We're going to find that to-morrow. And there's a central point, +a <i>fazenda</i>, where one may talk direct with The Master, whoever and +wherever he may be. And—judging by Ribiera—my guess is that The +Master has the same hold upon them that they have on their underlings. +Ribiera is too arrogant a scoundrel to make obsequious reports if he +were not afraid to omit them." He was silent for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> a moment, thinking. +Then he said abruptly, "Try to get some sleep, if you can. That pistol +of Ribiera's—you have it handy? Keep it where you can reach it in the +dark. I'm going to watch, though."</p> + +<p>Paula settled herself comfortably, and looked queerly across the dimly +lit little cabin at him.</p> + +<p>"My friend," she said with the faintest of quavering smiles, "Please +do not reassure me. I have the courage of endurance, at least. And—I +do not fear you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t seemed to Bell, listening in the darkness that fell when he turned +off the switch, that she stayed awake for a long time. But when she +did sleep, she slept heavily.</p> + +<p>Bell had a raft of canes afloat beside the amphibian when she waked. +He was sweat-streaked and bitten by many insects. He was tired, and +his clothes were rags. But the raft was nearly twenty feet long, it +would easily float two persons and what small supplies the plane +carried, and it could be handled by a long pole.</p> + +<p>"Hullo," he said cheerfully when she climbed on top of the waterlogged +hull of the plane. "We're nearly ready to start off. I'm sorry I can't +advise you to try to refresh yourself in the river. There are some +fish in it that are fiends. One of them took a slice out of the side +of my hand."</p> + +<p>"<i>Piranhas!</i>" she exclaimed, and was pale. "You should have known!"</p> + +<p><i>Piranhas</i> are small fresh-water fish of the Brazilian rivers, never +more than a foot and a half long, which prove the existence of a +devil. Where they swarm in schools they will tear every morsel of +flesh from a swimmer's body as he struggles to reach shore, and leave +a clean-stripped skeleton of a mule or horse if an animal should essay +to swim a stream.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask, next time," said Bell ruefully. "I'd planned a swim. But if +you'll fix some coffee while I finish up this raft, we'll get going. I +don't think we're far from some place or other. I heard what sounded +suspiciously like a motor boat, about dawn."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>he looked at him anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Bell, smiling, "if the boat belonged to whoever +listened in on the Rio broadcast <i>and</i> the short-wave news, he won't +be especially friendly, though he should be glad to see us. But I've +been studying the map, and I have a rather hopeful idea. Let's have +coffee."</p> + +<p>He grinned as long as she was in sight, and when he went into the +cabin of the plane he seemed more cheerful still. But the idea of +floating down this nameless little jungle stream upon a raft of canes +was not one that he would have chosen. It was forced upon him. To +travel through the jungle itself was next to impossible with a girl, +especially as they were dressed for city streets and not at all for +battling with dense and thorn-studded undergrowth. And to stay with +the plane was obviously absurd. Sooner or later they had to abandon +it, though the moment they did desert it they would be encountering +not only the impersonal menace of the jungle, but the actual enmity of +all the human race. The raft was the only possibility.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t floated smoothly enough when they started off, with Bell working +inexpertly with his long pole to keep it in mid-stream. He was, of +course, acutely apprehensive. In country like this a rapid could be +expected anywhere. The jungle life loomed high above their heads on +either side, and the life of the jungle went on undisturbed by their +passage. Monkeys gaped at them and exchanged undoubtedly witty +comments upon their appearance. Birds flew overhead with raucous and +unpleasant cries. Toucans, in particular, made a most discordant din. +Once they disturbed a tiny herd of peccaries, drinking, which regarded +them pugnaciously and trotted sturdily out of sight as they came +abreast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></p> + +<p>But for one mile, for two, the stream flowed smoothly. A third.... And +Paula pointed ahead in silence. A dug-out projected partly from the +shoreline. Bell wielded his long pole cautiously now, and drew closer +and ever closer to the stream bank. Paula pointed again. There was +even a small dock—luxury unthinkable in these wilds.</p> + +<p>The raft touched bottom. And suddenly from somewhere out of sight +there came a horrible and a bestial sound. It was a scream of +blood-lust, of madness, of overpowering and unspeakable rage. +Following it came cackling laughter.</p> + +<p>Paula went white.</p> + +<p>"The <i>fazenda</i>," said Bell softly, "of the sub-deputy who was +listening in on Ribiera last night. And it sounds as if someone were +very much amused. Some poor devil...."</p> + +<p>Paula shuddered.</p> + +<p>"I'm going ashore," said Bell, smiling frostily. "There's nothing else +to do."</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER VIII</h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>rouched at the edge of the jungle, where the clearing began, Paula +heard four shots. Two in quick succession, and a wait of minutes. Then +a third, and another long wait, and then the last. Then silence. Paula +began to shiver. Bell had helped her ashore from the raft and insisted +on her waiting at the edge of the jungle.</p> + +<p>"Not that you'll be any safer," he had told her grimly, "but that I +may be. One person can move more quickly than two. And if I'm chased +I'll plunge for the place you're hidden, and you can open fire. Then +the two of us might hold them off."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Paula said slowly.</p> + +<p>And Bell caught at her wrist.</p> + +<p>"Don't let me hear you talk like that!" he said sharply. "We're going +to beat this thing! We've got to! And being desperate helps, but being +in despair doesn't help a bit. Buck up!"</p> + +<p>He frowned at her until she smiled.</p> + +<p>"I will not despair again without your permission," she told him. +"Really. I will not."</p> + +<p>He found her a hiding-place and went cautiously out into the clearing, +still frowning.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e had been gone five minutes before the first shot sounded, and quite +ten before the last rang out dully, and was echoed and re-echoed +hollowly by the jungle trees. And Paula lay waiting by the edge of the +clearing, Ribiera's pearl-handled automatic in her hand—Bell had +carried the rifle from the plane. Small insects moved all about her, +and she heard soft rustlings as the life of the jungle went on over +her head and under her feet, and terror welled up in her throat.</p> + +<p>She was trembling almost uncontrollably when Bell came back. He walked +openly toward her hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"Paula."</p> + +<p>She came out, trying to steady her quivering lips.</p> + +<p>"We're all right," said Bell grimly. "This is the <i>fazenda</i> of a +sub-deputy. I suspect, also, it's an emergency landing field for +Ribiera on the way to that place he talked to last night. There's a +two-place plane here with both wheels and floats, in a filthy little +shed. It seems to be all right. We're going to take off in it and try +to make Moradores, where your people are. What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Her face was deathly pale.</p> + +<p>"I thought," she said with some difficulty, "when I heard the shots—I +thought you were killed."</p> + +<p>Bell shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't," he said grimly. "It was four other men who were killed."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e led her carefully past the house. It was a fairly typical <i>fazenda</i> +dwelling, if more substantial than most. It was wholly unpretentious, +with whitewashed walls, and the effect of grandeur it would give to +natives of this region would come solely from the number of buildings. +There were half a dozen or more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I killed four men," repeated Bell coldly. "And I'm damned glad of it. +That scream we heard.... I know pretty well what happened here last +night. Remember, Ribiera spoke of using a beam-wireless to make his +report. He must have had a short-wave beam set somewhere on the +outskirts of Rio, aimed at whatever headquarters he reports to. He's +going up to that headquarters some time to-day, by plane, of course. +He needed emergency landing fields along the route, and here he picked +out a native and made him a sub-deputy. Charming...."</p> + +<p>Moving past the buildings, Paula caught sight of massive wooden bars +set in the side of a building. Something crumpled up and limp lay +before them.</p> + +<p>"Don't look over there," said Bell harshly. "There was a woman in this +house and she told me what happened, though I'd guessed it before. The +sub-deputy was here last night with a party of friends. Newly +enslaved, some of them. He entertained them.... Up at Ribiera's place +a girl told me she and her husband had been shown a Secret Service +man. He went mad before their eyes. It was an object-lesson for them, +a clear illustration of what would happen to them if they ever +disobeyed. I imagine that something of the sort is used by all The +Master's deputies to convince their slaves of the fate that awaits +them for disobedience. The local man had brought a party up to watch +two men go mad. After that sight they'll be obedient."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e reached a shed, huge, but in disrepair. Monster doors were ajar. +Bell heaved at them and swung them wide. A small, trim, two-seated +plane showed in the shadowy interior.</p> + +<p>"This is for emergency use," said Bell grimly, "and we face an +emergency. I'll get it out and load it up. There's a dump of gas and +so on here. You might look around outside the door, in case the one +man who got away can find someone to help stop me."</p> + +<p>He set to work checking on fuel and oil. He loaded extra gas in the +front cockpit, a huge tin of it. Another would crowd him badly in the +pilot's cockpit in the rear, but he stowed it as carefully as he +could.</p> + +<p>"The local sub-deputy," he added evenly, "has added to the thrill by +having the two men put in one cage. He let his guests observe the +progress of the madness the damned poison produces. And presently, as +the madness grew, the two men fought. They were murder mad. The local +sub-deputy gave his guests the thrill of watching maniacs battling to +the death. He left early this morning with his party, and I imagine +that everyone was suitably submissive to his demands for the future. +There were four men and a woman left as caretakers here. I found the +four men before the cage, baiting the poor devil who'd killed the +other last night. That's why we heard the scream. When I came up with +my rifle they stared at me, and ran.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p> got one then, and as a matter of mercy I put a bullet through the +man who'd gone murder mad. The"—Bell sounded as if he were acutely +nauseated—"the man he'd killed was still in the cage. My God!... Then +I went looking for the other three men. Wasting time, no doubt, but I +found them. I was angry. I got one, and the others ran away again. A +little later the third man jumped me with a knife. He slit my sleeve. +I killed him. Didn't find the fourth man." Bell moved to the front of +the plane. "I'll see if she catches."</p> + +<p>He swung on the stick. It went over stiffly. Again, and again. With a +bellow, the motor caught. Bell shouted in Paula's ear.</p> + +<p>"We'll get in. Use the warming-up period to taxi out. We want to get +away as soon as we can."</p> + +<p>He helped her up into the seat, then remembered. He rummaged about and +flung a tumbled flying suit up in the cockpit with her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you get a chance, put it on!" he shouted. He stepped into a +similar outfit, reached up and throttled down the motor, and kicked +away the blocks under the wheels. He vaulted up into place. And slowly +and clumsily the trim little ship came lurching and rolling out of the +shed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he landing field was not large, but Bell took the plane to its edge. +He faced it about, and bent below the cockpit combing to avoid the +slip stream and look at his maps again, brought from the big +amphibian. Something caught his eye. Another radio receiving set.</p> + +<p>"Amphibian planes," he muttered, "for landing on earth or water. And +radios. I wonder if he has directional for a guide? It would seem +sensible, and if a plane went down the rest of them would know about +where to look."</p> + +<p>Paula reached about and touched his shoulder. She pointed. There was a +movement at the edge of the jungle and a puff of smoke. A bullet went +through the fusilage of the plane, inches behind Bell. He frowned, +grasped the stick, and gave the motor the gun.</p> + +<p>It lifted heavily, like all amphibians, but it soared over the group +of buildings some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wireless +mast and went on, rising steadily, to clear even the topmost trees on +the farther side of the stream by a hundred feet or more.</p> + +<p>It went on and on, roaring upward, and the jungle receded ever farther +below it. The horizon drew back and back. At two thousand feet the +earth began to have the appearance of a shallow platter. At three +thousand it was a steep sided bowl, and Bell could look down and trace +the meandering of the stream on which he had landed the night before. +Not too far downstream—some fifteen miles, perhaps—were the squalid, +toy sized structures of a town of the far interior of Brazil. He never +learned its name, but even in his preoccupation with the management +of the plane and a search for landmarks, he wondered very grimly +indeed what would be the state of things in that town. If in Rio, +where civilization held sway, Ribiera exercised such despotic though +secret power, in a squalid and forgotten little village like this the +rule of a sub-deputy of The Master could be bestial and horrible +beyond belief.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="44" height="50" /></div> +<p>astward. Bell had overshot the mark the night before. Before he had +located himself he was quite fifty miles beyond the spot Paula had +suggested as a hiding place. Now he retraced his way. A peak jutting +up from far beyond the horizon was a guiding mark. He set the plane's +nose for it, and relaxed.</p> + +<p>The motor thundered on valorously. Far below was a vast expanse of +thick jungle, intercepted but nowhere broken by occasional small +streams and now and then the tiny, angular things which might be +houses. But houses were very infrequent. In the first ten miles—with +a view of twenty miles in every direction—Bell picked out no more +than four small groups of buildings which might be the unspeakably +isolated <i>fazendas</i> of the folk of this region.</p> + +<p>"Ribiera was coming this way," he muttered.</p> + +<p>He fumbled the headphone of the radio set into place. The set seemed +to be already arbitrarily tuned. He turned it on. There was a +monotonous series of flashes, with the singing note of a buzzer in +them. A radio direction signal.</p> + +<p>"Ribiera's on the way."</p> + +<p>Bell stared far ahead, without reason. And it seemed to him that just +then, against that far distant guiding peak, he saw a black speck +floating in mid-air.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e pulled back the joy stick. Detached, feathery clouds spread across +the sky, and he was climbing for them. Paula looked behind at him, and +he pointed. He saw her seem to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> stiffen upon sight of the other +aircraft.</p> + +<p>In minutes Bell's plane was tearing madly through sunlit fleecy +monsters which looked soft and warm and alluring, and were cold and +damp and blinding in their depths. Bell kept on his course. The two +planes were approaching each other at a rate of nearly two hundred +miles an hour.</p> + +<p>And then, while the harsh, discordant notes of the radio signal +sounded monotonously in his ears, Bell stared down and, through a rift +between two clouds, saw the other plane for an instant, a thousand +feet below.</p> + +<p>The sun shone upon it fiercely. Its propeller was a shimmering, +cobwebby disk before it. It seemed to hang motionless—so short was +Bell's view of it—between earth and sky: a fat glistening body as of +a monstrous insect. Bell could even see figures in its cockpits.</p> + +<p>Then it was gone, but Bell felt a curious hatred of the thing. Ribiera +was almost certainly in it, headed for the place to which he had +spoken the night before. And Bell was no longer able to think of +Ribiera with any calmness. He felt a personal, gusty hatred for the +man and all he stood for.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>is face was grim and savage as his own plane sped through the clouds. +But just as the two aircraft had approached each other with the +combined speed of both, so they separated. It seemed only a moment +later that Bell dipped down below the clouds and the other plane was +visible only as a swiftly receding mote in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Bell coldly to himself, with the thunder of the motor +coming through the singing of the air route signal, "I wonder if he'll +see the ship I cracked up last night?"</p> + +<p>Paula was pointing. The shoulder of a hill upthrust beneath the +jungle. The tall trees were cleared away at its crest. Small, +whitewashed buildings appeared below.</p> + +<p>"Good landing field," said Bell, his eyes narrowing suddenly. "On the +direct route. Fifty miles back there's another landing field. I +wonder...."</p> + +<p>He was already suspicious before he flattened out above the house, +while dogs fled madly. He noticed, too, that horses in a corral near +the buildings showed no signs of fright. And horses are always afraid +of landing aircraft, unless they have had much opportunity to grow +accustomed to them.</p> + +<p>The little plane rolled and bumped, and gradually came to a stop. Bell +inconspicuously shifted a revolver to the outer pocket of his flying +suit. Figures came toward them, with a certain hesitating reluctance +that changed Bell's suspicions even while it confirmed them.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_p1.jpg" alt="P" width="51" height="56" /></div> +<p>aula," he said grimly, "this is another landing field for Ribiera's +emergency use. It sticks out all over the place. Relatives or no +relatives, you want to make sure of them. You understand?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes widened in a sudden startled fear. She caught her breath +sharply. Then she said quietly, though her voice trembled:</p> + +<p>"I understand. Of course."</p> + +<p>She slipped out of the plane and advanced to meet the approaching +figures. There were surprised, astounded exclamations: A bearded man +embraced her and shouted. Women appeared and, after staring, embraced. +Paula turned to wave her hand reassuringly to Bell, and vanished +inside the house.</p> + +<p>Bell looked over his instruments, examined the gas in the tank, and +began to work over his maps in the blaring sunlight. He cut out the +switch and the motor stopped with minor hissings of compression. The +maps held his attention, though he listened keenly as he worked for +any signs of trouble that Paula might encounter.</p> + +<p>He was beginning to have a definite idea in his mind. Ribiera had +talked to a headquarters somewhere, by beam radio from Rio. Beam +wireless, of course, is nothing more or less than a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> concentration of +a radio signal in a nearly straight line, instead of allowing it to +spread about equally on all sides of the transmitting station. It +makes both for secrecy and economy, since nearly all the power used at +the sending apparatus is confined to an arc of about three degrees of +a circle. Directed to a given receiving station, receiving outfits to +one side or the other of that path are unable to listen in, and the +signal is markedly stronger in the chosen path. Exactly the same +process, of course, is used for radio directional signals, one of +which still buzzed monotonously in Bell's ears until he impatiently +turned it off. A plane in the path hears the signal. If it does not +hear the signal, it is demonstrably off the straight route.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell, then, was in a direct line from Rio to the source of a radio +direction signal. Fifty miles back, where the big amphibian had +crashed, he was in the same air line. To extend that line on into the +interior would give the destination of Ribiera, and the location of +the headquarters where direct communication with The Master was +maintained.</p> + +<p>He worked busily. His maps were in separate sheets, and it took time +to check the line from Rio. When he had finished, he computed grimly.</p> + +<p>"At a hundred miles in hour...." He was figuring the maximum distance +which could plausibly be accepted as a day's journeying by air. He +surveyed the maps again. "The plateau of Cuyaba, at a guess. Hm.... +Fleets of aircraft could practise there and never be seen. An army +could be maneuvered without being reported. Certainly the headquarters +for the whole continent could be there. Striking distance of Rio, +Montevideo, Buenos Aires, La Paz, and Asunción. Five republics."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>ertainly, from his figures, it seemed plausible that somewhere up on +the Plateau of Cuyaba—where no rails run, no boats ply, and no +telegraph line penetrates; which juts out ultimately into that +unknown region where the Rio Zingu and the Tapajoz have their +origins—certainly it seemed plausible that there must lie the +headquarters of the whole ghastly conspiracy. There, it might be, the +deadly plants from which The Master's poison was brewed were grown. +There the deadly stuff was measured out and mixed with its temporary +antidote....</p> + +<p>Paula came back, a young man with her. Her eyes were wide and staring, +as if she had looked upon something vastly worse than death.</p> + +<p>"He—Ribiera," she gasped. "My uncle, he owned this place. They—have +him here—alive—and mad! And all the rest...."</p> + +<p>Bell fumbled in the pocket of his flying suit. The young man with +Paula was looking carefully at the plane. And there was a revolver in +a holster at his side. An air of grim and desperate doggedness was +upon him.</p> + +<p>"This is—my cousin," gasped Paula. "He—and his wife—and—and—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he young man took out his weapon. He fired. There was a clanging of +metal, the screech of tortured steel. Bell's own revolver went off the +fraction of a second too late.</p> + +<p>"You may kill me, Senhor," said the young man through stiff lips. His +revolver had dropped from limp fingers. He pressed the fingers of his +left hand upon the place where blood welled out, just above his right +elbow. "You may kill me. But if you and my cousin Paula escaped.... I +have a wife, Senhor, and my mother, and my children. Kill me if you +please. It is your right. But I have seen my father go mad." Sweat, +the sweat of agony and of shame, came out upon his face. "I fought +him, Senhor, to save the lives of all the rest. And I have spoiled +your engine, and I have already sent word that you and Paula are here. +Not for my own life, but...."</p> + +<p>He waited, haggard and ashamed and desperate and hopeless. But Bell +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> staring at the motor of the airplane.</p> + +<p>"Crankcase punctured," he said dully. "Aluminum. The bullet went right +through. We can't fly five miles. And Ribiera knows we're here—or +will."</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER IX</h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>here was the sound of weeping in the house, the gusty and hopeless +weeping of women. Bell had been walking around and around the plane, +staring at it with his hands clenched. Paula watched him.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking," she said in an attempt at courage, "that you said I +must not despair without your permission. But—"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Bell impatiently. He stared at the engine. "I'd give a +lot for a car. Bolts.... How many hours have we?"</p> + +<p>"Four," said Paula drearily. "Perhaps five. You have smashed the radio +in the house?"</p> + +<p>Bell nodded impatiently. He had smashed the radio, a marvelously +compact and foolproof outfit, arbitrarily tuned to a fixed short +wave-length. It was almost as simple to operate as a telephone. There +had been no opposition to the destruction. Paula's cousin had disabled +their plane and reported their presence. He was inside the house now, +sick with shame—and yet he would do the same again. In one of the +rooms of the house, behind strong bars, a man was kept who had been an +object-lesson....</p> + +<p>"Is there any machinery?" asked Bell desperately. "Any at all about +the place?"</p> + +<p>Paula shook her head.</p> + +<p>"It may be that there is a pump."</p> + +<p>Bell went off savagely, hunting it. He came back and dived into the +cockpit of the plane. He came out with a wrench, and his jaws set +grimly. He worked desperately at the pump. He came back with two +short, thick bolts.</p> + +<p>He crawled into the plane again, tearing out the fire wall +impatiently, getting up under the motor.</p> + +<p>"We have one chance in five thousand," he said grimly from there, "of +getting away from here to crash in the jungle. Personally, I prefer +that to falling into Ribiera's hands. If your cousin or anybody else +comes near us, out here, call me, and I'll be much obliged."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>here was the sound of scraping, patient, desperate, wholly +unpromising scraping. It seemed to go on for hours.</p> + +<p>"The wrench, please, Paula."</p> + +<p>She passed it to him. The bullet had entered the aluminum crankcase of +the motor and pierced it through. By special providence it had not +struck the crankshaft, and had partly penetrated the crankcase on the +other side. Bell had cut it out, first of all. He had two holes in the +crankcase, then, through which the cylinder oil had drained away. And +of all pieces of machinery upon earth, an aircraft motor requires oil.</p> + +<p>Bell's scraping had been to change the punctured holes of the bullet +into cone shaped bores. The aluminum alloy was harder than pure +aluminum, of course, but he had managed it with a knife. Now he fitted +the short bolts in the bores, forced the threads on them to cut their +own grooves, and by main strength screwed them in to a fit. He +tightened them.</p> + +<p>He came out with his eyes glowing oddly.</p> + +<p>"The vibration will work them loose, sooner or later," he observed +grimly, "and they may not be oil tight. Also, the crankshaft may clear +them, and it may not. If we go up in the ship in this state we may get +five miles away, or five hundred. At any minute it may fail us, and +sooner or later it will fail us. Are you game to go up, Paula?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>he smiled at him.</p> + +<p>"With you, of course."</p> + +<p>He began to brush off his hands.</p> + +<p>"There ought to be oil and gas here," he said briefly. "Another thing, +there'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> probably be some metal chips in the crankcase, which may +stop an oil line at any minute. It's a form of committing suicide, I +imagine."</p> + +<p>He went off, hunting savagely for the supplies of fuel and lubricant +which would be stored at any emergency field. He found them. He was +pouring gasoline into the tanks before what he was doing was noticed. +Then there was stunned amazement in the house. When he had the +crankcase full of oil the young man came out. Bell tapped his revolver +suggestively.</p> + +<p>"With no man about this house," he said grimly, "Ribiera will put in +one of his own choice. And you have a wife and children and they'll be +at that man's mercy. Don't make me kill you. Ribiera may not blame you +for my escape if you tell him everything—and you're hurt, anyway. +Either we get away, and you do that, or you're killed and we get away +anyhow."</p> + +<p>He toppled two last five gallon tins of gasoline into the +cockpits—crowding them abominably—and swung on the prop. The engine +caught. Bell throttled it down, kicked away the stones with which he +had blocked its wheels, and climbed up into the pilot's cockpit. With +his revolver ready in his lap he taxied slowly over to a favorable +starting point.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he ship rose slowly, and headed west again. At three thousand feet he +cut out the motor to shout to Paula.</p> + +<p>"One place is as good as another to us, now. The whole continent is +closed to us by now. I'm going to try to find that headquarters and do +some damage. Afterwards, we'll see."</p> + +<p>He cut in the motor again and flew steadily westward. He rose +gradually to four thousand feet, to five.... He watched his +instruments grimly, the motor temperature especially. There were +flakes of metal in the oil lines. Twice he saw the motor temperature +rise to a point that brought the sweat out on his face. And twice he +saw it drop again. Bits of shattered metal were in the oiling system, +and they had partly blocked the stream of lubricant until the engine +heated badly. And each time the vibration had shifted them, or +loosened them....</p> + +<p>They had left the big amphibian no earlier than nine o'clock. It was +noon when they took off for the <i>fazenda</i> of Paula's kin. But it was +five o'clock and after when they rose from there with an engine which +might run indefinitely and might stop at any second.</p> + +<p>Bell did not really expect it to run for a long time. He had worked as +much to cheat Ribiera of the satisfaction of a victory as in hopes of +a real escape. But an hour, and the motor still ran. It was +consistently hotter than an aero engine should run. Twice it had gone +up to a dangerous temperature. One other time it had gone up for a +minute or more as if the oiling system had failed altogether. But it +still ran, and the sun was sinking toward the horizon and shadows were +lengthening, and Bell began to look almost hopefully for a clearing in +which to land before the dark hours came.</p> + +<p>Then it was that he saw the planes that had been sent for him and for +Paula.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>here were three of them, fast two-seaters very much like the one he +drove. They were droning eastward, with all cockpits filled, from that +enigmatic point in the west. And Bell had descended to investigate a +barely possible stream when they saw him.</p> + +<p>The leader banked steeply and climbed upward toward him. The others +gazed, swung sharply, and came after him, spreading out as they came. +And Bell, after one instant's grim debate, went into a maple leaf dive +for the jungle below him. The others dived madly in his wake. He heard +a sharp, tearing rattle. A machine-gun. He saw the streaks of tracers +going very wide. Gunfire in the air is far from accurate. A +machine-gun burst from a hundred yards, when the gun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> has to be aimed +by turning the whole madly vibrating ship, is less accurate than a +rifle at six hundred, or even eight. Most aircraft duels are settled +at distances of less than a hundred yards.</p> + +<p>It was that fact that Bell counted on. With a motor that might go dead +at any instant and a load of passengers and gas at least equaling that +of any of the other ships, mere flight promised little. The other +ships, too, were armed, at any rate the leader was, and Bell had only +small arms at his disposal. But a plane pilot, stunting madly to dodge +tracer bullets, has little time to spare for revolver work.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell had but one advantage. He expected to be killed. He looked upon +both Paula and himself as very probably dead already. And he +infinitely preferred the clean death of a crash to either the life or +death that Ribiera would offer them. He flattened out barely twenty +yards above the waving branches that are the roof of the jungle. He +went scudding over the tree tops, rising where the jungle rose, +dipping where it dropped, and behind him the foliage waved wildly as +if in a cyclone.</p> + +<p>The other planes dared not follow. To dive upon him meant too much +chance of a dash into the entrapping branches. One plane, indeed, did +try it, and Bell scudded lower and lower until the wheels of the small +plane were spinning from occasional, breath taking contacts with the +feathery topmost branches of jungle giants. That other plane flattened +out not less than a hundred feet farther up and three hundred yards +behind. To fire on him with a fixed gun meant a dive to bring the gun +muzzle down. And a dive meant a crash.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p> stream flashed past below. There was the glitter of water, +reflecting the graying sky. A downward current here dragged at the +wings of the plane. Bell jerked at the stick and her nose came up. +There was a clashing, despite her climbing angle, of branches upon the +running gear, but she broke through and shot upward, trying to stall. +Bell flung her down again into his mad careering.</p> + +<p>It was not exactly safe, of course. It was practically a form of +suicide. But Bell had not death, but life to fear. He could afford to +be far more reckless than any man who desired to live. The plane went +scuttling madly across the jungle tops, now rising to skim the top of +a monster <i>ceiba</i>, now dipping deliberately.</p> + +<p>The three pursuing planes hung on above him helplessly while the +short, short twilight of the tropics fell, and Bell went racing across +the jungle, never twenty feet above the tree top and with the boughs +behind him showing all the agitation of a miniature hurricane. As +darkness deepened, the race became more suicidal still, and there were +no lighted fields nearby to mark a landing place. But as darkness grew +more intense, Bell could dare to rise to fifty, then a hundred feet +above the tops, and the dangers of diving to his level remained +undiminished. And then it was dark.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell climbed to two hundred feet. To two hundred and fifty. With more +freedom, now, he could take one hand from the controls. He could feel +the menace of the tumultuously roaring motors in his wake, but he was +smiling very strangely in the blackness. He reached inside his flying +suit and tore away the front of his shirt. He reached down and +battered in the top of one of the five gallon gasoline tins in the +cockpit with the barrel of his revolver. He stuffed the scrap of cloth +into the rent. It was wetted instantly by the splashing. Another +savage blow, unheard in the thunder of the motor. In the peculiarly +calm air of the cockpit the reek of gasoline was strong, but cleared +away. And Bell, with the frosty grim smile of a man who gambles with +his life, struck a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> light. The cloth flared wildly, and he reached his +hands into the flame and heaved the tin of fuel overside.</p> + +<p>The cloth was burning fiercely, and spilled gasoline caught in +mid-air. A fierce and savage flame dropped earthward. Spark on the +cloth, and the cloud of inflammable vapor that formed where the +leaking tin fell plummetlike, carried the flame down when the wind of +its fall would have blown it out.</p> + +<p>The following planes saw a flash of light. They saw a swiftly +descending conflagration tracing a steep arch toward the tree tops. +They saw that flaming vanish among the trees. And then they saw a vast +upflaring of fire below. Flames licked upward almost to the tree +tops....</p> + +<p>Bell looked back from two thousand feet. Wing-tip lights were on, +below, and disks of illumination played upon the roof of the jungle +above the fire. The three planes were hovering over the spot. But a +thick dense column of smoke was rising, now. Green things shriveling +in the heat, and dried and rotted underbrush. Altogether, the volume +of smoke and flame was very convincing evidence that an airplane had +burst into flame in mid-air and crashed through the jungle top to burn +to ashes beneath.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ut Bell climbed steadily to five thousand feet. He cut out the motor, +there, and in the shrieking and whistling of wind as the plane went +into a shallow glide, he spoke sharply.</p> + +<p>"Paula?"</p> + +<p>"I am all right," she assured him unsteadily. "What now?"</p> + +<p>"There's a seat pack under you," said Bell. "It's a parachute. You'd +better put it on. God only knows where we'll land, but if the motor +stops we'll jump together. And I think we'll have to jump before dawn. +This plane won't fly indefinitely. There's just one chance in a +million that I know of. There'll be a moon before long. When it comes +up, look for the glitter of moonlight on water. With the wing-tip +lights we may—we may—manage to get down. But I doubt it."</p> + +<p>He moved his hand to cut in the motor again. She stopped him.</p> + +<p>"If we head south," she said unsteadily, "we may reach the Paraguay. +It is perhaps two hundred miles, but it is broad. We should see it. +Perhaps even the stars...."</p> + +<p>"Good work!" said Bell approvingly. "<i>Nils desperandum!</i> That's our +motto, Paula."</p> + +<p>He swung off his course and headed south. He was flying high, now, and +an illogical and incomprehensible hope came to him. There was no hope, +of course. He had had, more than once, a despairing conviction that +the utmost result of all his efforts would be but the delaying of +their final enslavement to The Master, whose apparent impersonality +made him the more terrible as he remained mysterious. So far they +seemed like struggling flies in some colossal web, freeing themselves +from one snaring spot to blunder helplessly into another.</p> + +<p>But the moon came up presently, rounded and nearly full. The sky took +on a new radiance, and the jungle below them was made darker and more +horrible by the contrast.</p> + +<p>And when there were broad stretches of moonlit foliage visible on the +rising slopes beneath, Bell felt the engine faltering. He switched on +the instrument board light. One glance, and he was cold all over. The +motor was hot. Hotter than it had ever been. The oil lines, perhaps +the pump itself....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>aula's hand reached back into the glow of the instrument board. He +leaned over and saw her pointing. Moonlight on rolling water, far +below. He dived for it, steeply. The wing-lights went on. Faint disks +of light appeared far below, sweeping to and fro with the swaying of +the plane, bobbing back and forth.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Bell that there had been nothing quite as horrible as +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> next minute or two. He felt the over-heated, maltreated motor +laboring. It was being ruined, of course—and a ruined motor meant +that they were marooned in the jungle. But if it kept going only until +they landed. And if it did not....</p> + +<p>White water showed below in the disks of the landing lights' glow. It +tumbled down a swift and deadly <i>raudal</i>—a rapid. And then—black, +deep water, moving swiftly between tall cliffs of trees.</p> + +<p>Bell risked everything to bank about and land toward the white water. +The little plane seemed to be sinking into a canyon as the trees rose +overhead on either side. But the moonlit rapid gave him his height, +approximately, and the lights helped more than a little.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e landed with a terrific crash. The plane teetered on the very verge +of a dive beneath the surface. Bell jerked back the stick and killed +the engine, and it settled back.</p> + +<p>A vast, a colossal silence succeeded the deafening noise of twelve +cylinders exploding continuously. There were little hissing sounds as +the motor cooled. There was the smell of burnt oil.</p> + +<p>"All right, Paula?" asked Bell quietly.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm all right."</p> + +<p>The plane was drifting backward, now. It spun around in a stately +fashion, its tail caught in underbrush, and it swung back. It drifted +past cliffs of darkness for a long time, and grounded, presently, with +a surprising gentleness.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said Bell dryly, "this sort of thing is getting +monotonous. I think our motor's ruined. I never knew before that +misfortunes could grow literally tedious. I've been expecting to be +killed any minute since we started off, but the idea of being stuck in +the jungle with a perfectly good plane and a bad motor...."</p> + +<p>He fished inside his flying suit and extracted a cigarette. Then he +lit it.</p> + +<p>"Let's see.... We haven't a thing to eat, have we?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>here was a little slapping noise. Bell became suddenly aware of a +horde of insects swarming around him. Smoke served partially to drive +them off.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said suddenly, "we could unfold a parachute and cover +the cockpits for some protection against these infernal things that +are biting me."</p> + +<p>"We may need the parachute," said Paula unsteadily. "Does—does that +smoke of yours drive them away?"</p> + +<p>"A little." Bell hesitated. "I say, it would be crowded, but if I came +up there, or you here...."</p> + +<p>"I—I'll come back there," she said queerly. "The extra cans of +gasoline here...."</p> + +<p>She slipped over the partition, in the odd flying suit which looks so +much more odd when a girl wears it. She settled down beside him, and +he tried painstakingly to envelope her in a cloud of tobacco smoke. +The plague of insects lessened.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to do but wait for dawn. She was very quiet, but as +the moon rose higher he saw that her eyes were open. The night noises +of the jungle all about them came to their ears. Furtive little +slitherings, and the sound of things drinking greedily at the water's +edge, and once or twice peculiar little despairing small animal cries +off in the darkness.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he jungle was dark and sinister, and all the more so when the moon +rose high and lightened its face and left them looking into weird, +abysmal blackness between moonlit branches. Bell thought busily, +trying not to become too conscious of the small warm body beside him.</p> + +<p>He moved, suddenly, and found her fingers closed tightly on the sleeve +of his flying suit.</p> + +<p>"Frightened, Paula?" he asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> quietly. "Don't be. We'll make out."</p> + +<p>She shook her head and looked up at him, drawing away as if to scan +his face more closely.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking," she said almost harshly, "of biology. I wonder—"</p> + +<p>Bell waited. He felt an intolerable strain in her tensed figure. He +put his hand comfortingly over hers. And, astoundingly, he found it +trembling.</p> + +<p>"Are all women fools?" she demanded in a desperate cynicism. "Are we +all imbeciles? Are—"</p> + +<p>Bell's pulse pounded suddenly. He smiled.</p> + +<p>"Not unless men are imbeciles too," he said dryly. "We've been through +a lot in the past two days. It's natural that we should like each +other. We've worked together rather well. I—well"—his smile was +distinctly a wry and uncomfortable one—"I've been the more anxious to +get to some civilized place where The Master hasn't a deputy +because—well—it wouldn't be fair to talk about loving you while—" +he shrugged, and said curtly, "while you had no choice but to listen."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>he stared at him, there in the moonlight with the jungle moving about +its business of life and death about them. And very, very slowly the +tenseness left her figure. And very, very slowly she smiled.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you are lying to me, Charles. Perhaps. +But it is a very honorable thing for you to say. I am not ashamed, +now, of feeling that I wish to be always near you."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Bell. He put his arm about her shoulder and drew her +closer to him. He tilted her face upward. It was oval and quite +irresistibly pretty. "I love you," said Bell steadily. "I've been +fighting it since God knows when, and I'm going to keep on fighting +it—and it's no use. I'm going to keep on loving you until I die."</p> + +<p>Her fingers closed tightly upon his. Bell kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said gruffly, "go to sleep."</p> + +<p>He pressed her head upon his shoulder and kept it there. After a long +time she slept. He stirred, much later, and she opened her eyes again.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Damn these mosquitos," growled Bell. "I can't keep them off your +face!"</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER X</h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div> +<p>or four hours after sunrise Bell worked desperately. With the few and +inadequate tools in the plane he took apart the oiling system of the +motor. It was in duplicate, of course, like all modern air engines, +and there were three magnetos, and double spark plugs. Bell drained +the crankcase beneath a sun that grew more and more hot and +blistering, catching the oil in a gasoline can that he was able to +empty into the main tanks. He washed out innumerable small oil pipes +with gasoline, and flushed out the crankcase itself, and had at the +end of his working as many small scraps of metal as would half fill a +thimble. He showed then to Paula.</p> + +<p>"And the stars in their courses fought against Sisera," he quoted +dryly. "Any one of these, caught in just the right place, would have +let us down into the jungle last night."</p> + +<p>She smiled up at him.</p> + +<p>"But they didn't."</p> + +<p>"No.... God loves the Irish," said Bell. "What's that thing?"</p> + +<p>Paula was fishing, sitting on a fallen tree in the cloud of smoke from +a smudge fire Bell had built for her. She was wearing the oily flying +suit he had found in the shed with the plane, and had torn strips from +her discarded dress to make a fishing line. The hook was made out of +the stiff wire handle of one of the extra gasoline tins. "Hook and +leader in one," Bell had observed when he made it.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e was pointing to a flat bodied fish with incredible jaws that lay on +the grass, emitting strange sounds even in the air. It flapped about +madly. Its jaws closed upon a stick nearly half an inch thick, and cut +it through.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is a <i>piranha</i>," said Paula. "The same fish that bit your hand. It +can bite through a copper wire fastened to a hook, but this hook is so +long...."</p> + +<p>"Pleasant," said Bell. Something large and red passed before his eyes. +He struck at it instinctively.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" said Paula sharply.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It's a <i>maribundi</i> wasp," she told him "And its sting.... Children +have died of it. A strong man will be ill for days from one single +sting."</p> + +<p>"Still more pleasant," said Bell. "The jungle is a charming place, +isn't it?" He wiped the sweat off his face. "Any more little pets +about?"</p> + +<p>She looked about seriously.</p> + +<p>"There." She pointed to a sapling not far distant. "The <i>palo santo</i> +yonder has a hollow trunk, and in it there are usually ants, which are +called fire-ants. They bite horribly. It feels like a drop of molten +metal on your flesh. And it festers afterwards. And there is a fly, +the <i>berni</i> fly, which lays its eggs in living flesh. The maggot eats +its way within. I do not know much about the jungle, but my father +has—had a <i>fazenda</i> in Matto Grosso and I was there as a child. The +<i>camaradas</i> told me much about the jungle, then."</p> + +<p>Bell winced, and sat down beside her. She had Ribiera's pearl handled +automatic within easy reach. She saw him looking at it.</p> + +<p>"I do not think there is any danger," she said with a not very +convincing smile, "but there are <i>cururus</i>—water snakes. They grow +very large."</p> + +<p>"And I asked you to fish!" said Bell. "Stop it!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>he hauled the line ashore, with a flapping thing on the end of it. +Bell took the fish off and regarded her catch moodily.</p> + +<p>"I'd been thinking," he said moodily, "that Ribiera suspects we're +dead. I'd been envisioning ourselves as marooned, yes, but relatively +safe as long as we were thought to be dead. And I'd thought that if we +lived a sort of castaway existence for a few weeks we'd be forgotten, +and would have a faint chance of getting out to civilization without +being noticed. But this...."</p> + +<p>"I will stay," she said steadily. "I will stay anywhere or go +anywhere, with you."</p> + +<p>Bell's hand closed on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I believe it," he said heavily. "And—if you noticed—I had been +thinking of letting down the Trade. I'd been thinking of not trying to +fight The Master any longer, but only of getting you to safety. In a +sense, I was thinking of treason to my job and my government. I +suspect"—he smiled rather queerly—"I suspect we love each other +rather much, Paula. I'd never have dreamed for anyone else. Go over to +the plane and don't fish any more. I'll rustle the food for both of +us."</p> + +<p>She stood up obediently, smiling at him.</p> + +<p>"But kill that <i>piranha</i> before you try to handle it," she advised +seriously.</p> + +<p>Bell battered the savage thing until it ceased to move. He picked it +up, then, and sniffed the air. Paula had been in a cloud of acrid +smoke. She could not have detected the taint in the air he discovered. +He went curiously, saw a broken branch overhead, and then saw +something on the ground.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e came back to the plane presently, looking rather sick.</p> + +<p>"Give me one of the machetes, Paula," he said quietly. "We brought +them, I think."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>He took the wide-bladed woods knife.</p> + +<p>"A man," he said, nauseated. "He either fell or was thrown from +somewhere high above. From a plane. He was United States Secret +Service. There's a badge in his clothes. Don't come."</p> + +<p>He went heavily over to the spot beyond the smudge fire. He worked +there for half an hour. When he came back there were earth stains on +his hands and clothing, and he carried a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> very small brown package in +his hand.</p> + +<p>"He had a report ready to send off," said Bell grimly. "I read it. +It's in code, of course, but in the Trade...."</p> + +<p>He set to work savagely on the engine, reassembling it. As he worked, +he talked in savage, jerky sentences.</p> + +<p>"The Service man at Asunción. One of the seven who vanished. He'd +learned more than we have. He was caught—poisoned, of course—and +pretended to surrender. Told a great deal that he shouldn't, in order +to convince The Master's deputy. The key men in nearly every republic +in South America are in The Master's power. Paraguay belongs to him, +body and soul. Bolivia is absolutely his. Every man of the official +class from the President down knows that he has two weeks or less of +sanity if The Master's deputy shuts down on him—and he knows that at +the crook of the deputy's finger he'll be assassinated before then. If +they run away, they go murder mad. If they stay, they have to obey +him. It's hellish!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e stopped talking to make a fine adjustment. He went on, somberly.</p> + +<p>"Chile's not so bad off, but the deputy has slaves nearly everywhere. +Ecuador—well, the President and half of Congress have been poisoned. +The man I found was trying to get a sample of the poison for analysis. +He'd learned it was unstable. Wouldn't keep. The Master has to send +fresh supplies constantly all over the continent. That accounts for +the deputies remaining loyal. If The Master had reason to suspect +them, he had only to stop their supply.... They couldn't stock up on +the deadly stuff for their own use. So they're as abjectly subject to +The Master as their slaves are to them. No new slaves are to be made +in Paraguay or Bolivia, except when necessary. It's believed that in +six months the other republics will have every influential man +subjected. Every army officer, every judge, every politician, every +outstanding rich man.... And then, overnight, South America will +become an empire, with that devil of a Master as its overlord."</p> + +<p>He lifted one of the oil pumps in place and painstakingly tightened +the bolts that held it.</p> + +<p>"Picture it," he said grimly. "Beasts as viceroys, already taking +their pleasure. Caligulas, Neros, on viceregal thrones all over the +continent.... And every man who shows promise, or shows signs of honor +or courage or decency, either killed or sent mad or...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>aula was watching his face closely.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said soberly, "that there is something worse."</p> + +<p>Bell was silent for an instant.</p> + +<p>"For me," he said bitterly, "it is. Before The Master dares to make +his coup public, he must be sure that there will be no foreign +interference. So, he must establish a deputy in Washington. A +relatively few chosen men, completely enslaved, could hold back our +Government from any action. Leaders in Congress, and members of the +Cabinet, working, in defense of The Master because his defeat would +mean their madness.... He would demand no treason of them at first. He +would require simply that he should not be interfered with. But his +plans include the appointment of deputies in the United States later +on. I don't think he can subdue America. I don't think so. But he +could—and I think he would—send whole cities mad. And if you think +of that...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e was silent, working. A long, long time later he swung on the +propeller. The motor caught. He throttled it down and watched it +grimly. The motor warmed up to normal, and stayed there.</p> + +<p>"It will run," he said coldly. "Those two plugs in the crankcase may +come out at any time. I've tightened them a little. They'd worked +loose from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> vibration. But—well.... That Service man was heading +for Asunción. He'd been found out. They probably shot him down in +mid-air after he'd gotten away. His plane may be crashed anywhere in +the jungle within a mile or so. And I've two bearings on the <i>fazenda</i> +where Ribiera went, now. One from Asunción through here and one from +Rio. I want to go back there to-night and dump burning gasoline on the +buildings, to do enough damage to disorganize things a little. Then +I'm going to try to make it to a seaport. We can stow away, perhaps."</p> + +<p>He shut off the motor.</p> + +<p>"We'll start at dusk. There'll be lights there. This report says it's +nearly a city—of slaves. We want the darkness for our getaway."</p> + +<p>Paula looked at the sky.</p> + +<p>"We have three hours," she said quietly. "Let us cook and eat. You +must keep up your strength, Charles."</p> + +<p>She said it in all seriousness, with the air of one who has entire +confidence and is merely solicitous. And Bell, who knew of at least +three excellent reasons why neither of them should survive until +dawn—Bell looked at her queerly, and then grinned, and then took her +in his arms and kissed her. She seemed to like it.</p> + +<p>And they lunched quite happily on <i>piranha</i> and <i>pacu</i>—which is +smaller—and drank water, and for dessert had more <i>piranha</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he long afternoon wore away slowly. It was hot, and grew blistering. +Insects came in swarms and tormented them until Bell built a second +and larger smudge fire. But they fastened upon his flesh when he went +out of its smoke for more wood.</p> + +<p>They talked, as well as they could for smoke, and looked at each other +as well as they could for smarting eyes. It was not at all the +conventional idea of romantic conversation, but it was probably a good +deal more honest than most, because they both knew quite well that +their chance of life was small. A plane whose motor was precariously +patched, flying over a jungle without hope of a safe landing if that +patched-up motor died, was bad enough. But with the three nearest +nations subservient to The Master, whose deputy Ribiera was, and all +those nations hunting them as soon as they were known to be yet +alive....</p> + +<p>"Would it not be wise, Charles," asked Paula wistfully, "just for us +to try to escape, ourselves, and not try—"</p> + +<p>"Wise, perhaps," admitted Bell, "but I've got to strike a blow while I +can." He was staring somberly at the little plane, fast upon a mud +bank, with the tall green jungle all about. "The deputies and all +their slaves have their lives hanging by a thread—the thread of a +constant supply of the antidote to the poison that's administered with +the antidote. The deputies—Ribiera, for instance—don't realize that. +Else they wouldn't dare do the things they do. But let them realize +that the thread can be broken, and what their slaves would do to them +before they all went mad.... You see? Let them learn that a blow has +been struck at the center of all the ghastly thing, and they'll be +frightened. They'll be close to mutiny through sheer panic. And there +may be slip-ups."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was vague, perhaps, but it was true. The subjection of the poisoned +men and women was due not only to terror of what would happen if they +disobeyed the deputies, but to a belief that that thing would not +happen if they did obey. If Bell could do enough damage to the +<i>fazenda</i> of The Master to shake the second belief, he would have +shaken the whole conspiracy. And a conspiracy that is not a complete +success is an utter failure.</p> + +<p>It was close to sunset when they heard a droning noise in the +distance. Bell went swiftly to the cockpit of the plane and searched +the sky.</p> + +<p>"Don't see it," he said grimly, "and it probably doesn't see us. We're +all right, I suppose."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p> + +<p>But he was uneasy. The droning noise grew to a maximum and slowly died +away again. It diminished to a distant muttering.</p> + +<p>"What say," said Bell suddenly, "we get aloft now? We'll follow that +damned thing home. It's going from Asunción to that place we want to +find. This is on that route. Whoever's in it won't be looking behind, +and it's close to darkness."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>aula stood up.</p> + +<p>"I am ready, Charles."</p> + +<p>Bell swung out on the floats and tugged at the prop. The motor caught +and roared steadily. While it was warming up, he stripped off the rest +of his shirt and tore it into wide strips, and tied the rags in the +handles of the gasoline tins in the two cockpits.</p> + +<p>"For our bombs," he explained, smiling faintly. "You'll want to wear +your chute pack, Paula. You know how to work it? And we'll divide the +guns and what shells we have, and stick them in the flying suit +pockets."</p> + +<p>He made her show him a dozen times that she knew how to pull out the +ring that would cause the parachute to open. She climbed into the +front cockpit and smiled down at him. He throttled down the motor to +its lowest speed and shoved off from the mud bank. Clambering up, +while the plane moved slowly over the water under the gentle pull of +the slow-moving propeller, he bent over and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"For luck," he said in her ear.</p> + +<p>The next instant he settled down at the controls, glanced a last time +at the instruments, and gave the motor the gun.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he plane lifted soggily but steadily and swept up-stream toward the +rolling water of the <i>raudal</i>, which tumbled furiously about an +obstacle half of stones and shallows, and half of caught and rotting +tree trunks. It rose steadily until the trees dropped away on either +side and the jungle spread out on every hand. It rose to a thousand +feet and went roaring through the air to northward, while Bell +strained his eyes for the plane on ahead.</p> + +<p>It was ten minutes or more before he sighted it, winging its way +steadily into the misty distance above the jungle. Bell settled down +to follow. The engine roared valorously. For half an hour Bell watched +it anxiously, but it remained cool and had always ample power. Paula's +head showed above the cockpit combing. Mostly she looked confidently +ahead, but once or twice she turned about to smile at him.</p> + +<p>The sun seemed high when they rose from the water, but as it neared +the horizon its rate of descent seemed to increase. They had been in +the air for no more than three-quarters of an hour when it was twice +its own disk above the far distant hills. Almost immediately, it +seemed, it had halved that distance. And then the lower limb of the +blaring circle was sharply cut off by the hill crests and the sun sank +wearily to rest behind the edge of the world.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if a swift chill breeze blew over the jungle, in warning +of the night. The trees became dark. A shadowy dusk filled the air +even up to where the plane flew thunderously on. And then, quite +abruptly, stars were shining and it was night.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell remembered, suddenly, and switched on the radio as an experiment. +The harsh, discordant dashes sounded in his ears through the roaring +of the motor. A beam of short waves was being sent out from his +destination. While he was on the direct path the monotonous signals +could be heard. When they weakened or died he would have left the way.</p> + +<p>But they continued, discordant and harsh and monotonous, while the +last faint trace of the afterglow died away and night was complete, +and a roof of many stars glittered overhead, and the jungle lay dark +and deadly below him.</p> + +<p>For nearly half an hour more he kept on. Twice he switched on the +instru<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>ment board light to glance at the motor temperature. The first +time it appeared a little high. The second time it was normal again. +But there was little use in watching instruments. If the motor failed +there was no landing field to make for.</p> + +<p>A sudden faint glow sprang into being, many miles ahead. The pinkish +glare of many, many lights turned on suddenly. As the plane thundered +on the glow grew brighter. An illuminated field, for the convenience +of messengers who carried the poison for The Master to all the nations +which were to be subjected.</p> + +<p>The glow went out as Bell was just able to distinguish long rows of +twinkling bulbs, and he saw the harsher, fiercer glow of floodlights. +He reached forward and touched Paula's shoulder. Conversation was +impossible over the motor's roar. Her hand reached up and pressed his.</p> + +<p>Then he saw other lights. Bright lights, as from houses. Arc lights as +from storage warehouses, or something of the sort. A long, long row of +lighted windows, which might be dormitories or perhaps sheds in which +The Master's enslaved secretaries kept the record of his victims.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he earth flung back the roaring of the little plane's motor. Bell had +but little time to act before other planes would dart upward to seek +him out. He dived, and the wing tip landing lights went on, sending +fierce glares downward. Twin disks of light appeared upon the earth. +Sheds, houses, a long row of shacks as if for laborers. A drying +field, on which were spread out plants with their leaves turning +brown. A wall about it....</p> + +<p>"The damned stuff," said Bell grimly.</p> + +<p>He swept on. Jungle, only jungle. He banked steeply as lights flicked +on and off below and as—once—the wing tip lights showed men running +frantically two hundred feet below.</p> + +<p>Then a stream of fire shot earthward, and Bell held up his hand and +arm into the blast of the slip stream. It blew out the blaze that had +licked at his flesh. He stared down. The gas can had left a trailing +stream of fluid behind it as it went spinning down to earth. All that +stream of inflammable stuff was aflame. The can itself struck earth +and seemed to explode, and the trailing mass of fire was borne onward +by the wind and lay across a row of thatch-roofed buildings. An +incredible sheet of fire spread out. The stuff in the drying yard was +burning.</p> + +<p>Bell laughed shortly, and flung over another of his flaming bombs, and +another, and the fourth....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e climbed for the skies, then, as rectangles of light showed below +and planes were thrust out of their lighted hangars. Four huge +conflagrations were begun. One was close by a monster rounded tank, +and Bell watched with glistening eyes as it crept closer. Suddenly—it +seemed suddenly, but it must have been minutes later—flame rushed up +the sides of that tank, there was a sudden hollow booming, and fire +was flung broadcast in a blazing, pouring flood.</p> + +<p>"Their fuel tank!" said Bell, his eyes gleaming in the ruddy light +from below. He shut off his landing lights and went upward, steeply. +"I've played hell with them now!"</p> + +<p>A thousand feet up. Two thousand. Two thousand five hundred.... And +suddenly Bell felt cold all over. The instrument board! The motor was +hot. Hot! Burning!</p> + +<p>He shut it off before it could burst into flames, but he heard the +squealing of tortured, unlubricated metal grinding to a stop. He +leveled out. It was strangely, terribly silent in the high darkness, +despite the roaring of wind about the gliding plane. The absence of +the motor roar was the thing that made it horrible.</p> + +<p>"Paula," said Bell harshly, "one of those plugs came out, I guess. The +motor's ruined. Dead. The ship's going <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>to crash. Ready with your +parachute?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was dark, up there, save for the glare of fires upon the under +surface of the wings. But he saw her hand, encarmined by that glare, +upon the combing of the cockpit. A moment later her face. She turned, +light-dazzled, to smile back at him.</p> + +<p>"All right, Charles." Her voice quavered a little, but it was very +brave. "I'm ready. You're coming, too?"</p> + +<p>"I'm coming," said Bell grimly. Below them was the city of The Master, +set blazing by their doing. If their chutes were seen descending.... +And if they were not.... "Count ten," said Bell hoarsely, "and pull +out the ring. I'll be right after you."</p> + +<p>He saw the slim little black-clad figure drop, plummetlike, and prayed +in an agony of fear. Then a sudden blooming thing hid it from sight. +Thick clouds of smoke lay over the lights and fires below.</p> + +<p>Bell stepped over the side and went hurtling down toward the earth in +his turn.</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>To be continued</i>)</p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_006.jpg" width="600" height="643" alt="Advertisement" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><span class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><img src="images/image_007.jpg" alt="He aimed it, and the Thing gripping him was hurled +back upon the others." width="600" height="605" class="img1" /></span><span class="caption">He aimed it, and the Thing gripping him was hurled +back upon the others.</span></div> +<h2><a name="The_Cavern_World" id="The_Cavern_World"></a>The Cavern World</h2> + +<h3><i>By James P. Olsen</i></h3> +<div class="sidenote">A great oil field had gone dry—and Asher, trapped far +under the earth among the revolting Petrolia, learns why.</div> + +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p>mpossible! What sort of creatures would they be, that could live two +miles beneath the surface of the earth? Surely, Asher, you are +joking!"</p> + +<p>R. Briggs Johns, mighty power back of Stan-America Oil Corporation, +looked at Blaine Asher closely, expecting to see the chief geologist +and scientist of the company laugh. But Blaine Asher did not laugh. +Serious, his rather thin face grave as he leaned his tall, muscular +body above a torsion machine he was adjusting, there was nothing to +indicate he had the faintest idea of a joke.</p> + +<p>"Why damn it, Asher!" Johns insisted wrathfully, "you don't really +mean that.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> And"—he took a nervous turn around the laboratory—"if +such a wild thing were possible, what has that to do with our trouble? +You haven't led me on to spend a million dollars drilling a +thirty-six-inch hole, just so you could test a fantastic theory?"</p> + +<p>"You know better than that." Asher wiped his hands and leaned against +a table. Johns, looking into the cool gray eyes of the man before him, +did know better. Blaine Asher was more than just a geologist or +scientist. Well he might be termed a master geo-metallurgist. Johns +nodded, wiping beads of perspiration from his brow.</p> + +<p>"You say impossible—and want to know how those creatures cause this +field, the largest oil field in the world, to start going bone dry +over night. All right:</p> + +<p>"Remember how you laughed when I told you that oil would some day be +mined instead of pumped or flowed from the earth? You couldn't see how +one central shaft could be sunk, then tunnels run back underneath the +oil strata, tapping the sand from the bottom and letting the oil run +down to be pumped out one shaft. Yet, that way, we would get <i>all</i> the +oil, instead of the possible one-eighth of the total amount as we get +by present methods.</p> + +<p>"Now, you have seen that done. And you said that was impossible."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_y1.jpg" alt="Y" width="62" height="58" /></div> +<p>es," Johns objected, "but those test wells we mined were only a few +hundred feet deep. Wells in this field are eight thousand feet deep! +Think of the heat, man! You can't do it. And as for people—"</p> + +<p>"Your great field has suddenly gone dry, almost in a month's time," +Asher stopped him. "What is happening here can happen elsewhere. Only, +formations in this field are more suited to there being life—or +something—below us. Stan-America is going broke. Many others have +already gone broke. Still, that oil couldn't have gotten away.</p> + +<p>"As for heat—yes, we know that oil is hot when it comes up from the +oil sand at eight thousand feet, or from ordinary wells at three to +six thousand feet. But"—Asher lit a cigarette and inhaled +deeply—"gas coming out of the same well is <i>cold</i>! So cold it forms +frost inches thick on pipes and tanks.</p> + +<p>"Rock pressure—the pressure of the earth—forcing up the gas, causes +that. Why couldn't that same pressure cool great caverns below the +granite cap below the oil sands? It could. For that matter, I know +that same pressure will generate useful power. I'll show you that in a +minute."</p> + +<p>"All right!" Johns chewed his cigar almost savagely. "Say, then, that +you can work down there, nearly two miles underground; granted that we +can tunnel from beneath the sands and pump more oil from one central +shaft than we now do from fifty wells—what has that to do with this +tosh about a race of people?"</p> + +<p>"They are not people, perhaps." Asher grinned at the "there, I've +stuck you!" look on Johns' face. "Let's say, rather, creatures. Have +you ever met Lee Wong, the great Chinese scientist, or his Russian +geological collaborator, Krenski? No?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_w1.jpg" alt="W" width="78" height="54" /></div> +<p>ell, I have. I met them in Paris in 1935—five years ago. They're +brilliant men, and they've prepared some wonderful papers. Brilliant, +I said: they are also dangerous. They claim, you know, that the +fossils we now drill up come from a lost race—people who went <i>into</i> +the earth while man, like us, was coming up onto the earth from the +water. Some claim those fossils have been on the surface at one time, +and were silted over. But eight thousand feet is a lot of silt, Johns: +ever thought of that?"</p> + +<p>"Good God!" Johns gasped hoarsely. "You almost make me believe you are +right. But, supposing there is such a race of things—what will you +do?"</p> + +<p>"This." Asher drew back a curtain that was stretched across one end of +the laboratory. "You know I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> working on a cage in which to descend +into that eight-thousand-foot well you've drilled—the well you're +going to use to try and find why this field is suddenly gone dry. This +it it."</p> + +<p>Johns stared, shook his head wonderingly and stared again. Before him, +ready to be transported to the well that was larger than any ever +drilled before, stood what Blaine Asher called his Miner, for want of +a better name.</p> + +<p>A thick steel tube, it was. Twelve feet long and large enough around +that a man might stand inside of it. The top was welded on in much the +manner a top is welded on an ordinary hot-water heater, and had +connections for hose in it. At the height of a man's eyes heavy +windows were set in, and in one side was a door just large enough to +admit a man's body. This door sealed tight the minute it closed.</p> + +<p>"It looks like—like some sort of a deep sea diving outfit," Johns +said as he walked around the braces that held the Miner upright. "But +all those gadgets inside and on the bottom—?" He indicated the +strange instruments that could be seen when the door was opened, and +the queer glass tubes that projected from the very bottom.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_p1.jpg" alt="P" width="51" height="56" /></div> +<p>ressure-power units—my own invention," Asher told him. "For ten +years I've been working on this. I knew that some day I would want to +explore the oil caverns beneath the earth, so I made ready.</p> + +<p>"As I told you, rock pressure, or earth pressure, is a tremendous +thing. It is power, so I figured how to use it. Under artificial +pressure, I have tried out my Miner and its equipment.</p> + +<p>"Those tubes sticking from the bottom contain something you are +familiar with: non-burning and non-explosive helium gas. I have +discovered a way, by their use, to create power that will melt away +rock or iron—literally dissolve it into nothing! Not in an hour, or +minutes. In seconds, Johns!</p> + +<p>"The pressure of the earth acts as my generator. The pressure action +on the filaments of platinum, and several compositions I have no time +to explain now, causes heat. Call it friction of compressed air, if +you wish. As neon gases carry an electric spark, so does this helium +carry the power generated by earth pressure. The pressure below earth +acts on the delicate coils and points of my generator. This bit of +power is carried into the helium tubes, and by a system of vacuum +power, is increased millions of times. Thus, the tiny spark of a cigar +lighter would electrocute a hundred men!"</p> + +<p>"I—you mean somewhat like a violet ray is increased in the lightning +tubes?" Johns strove to grasp the foundation of the thing.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the foundation of it all—with the earth's pressure the power +motive," Asher nodded. "So, after my Miner is on the bottom of our +well, I can burn—or dissolve—a room as large as this laboratory in a +few minutes. The whole thing is no mystery after you learn it—not +nearly so much as radium, or radio, was. Merely creating a spark of +electricity and fanning it through a vacuum and a conductor of massed +gases."</p> + +<p>"But"—Johns had unconsciously dropped his voice to a whisper—"what +of these strange creatures? How would you deal with them? Damn it, +Asher, I think I'm beginning to believe this nutty idea of yours. Any +man who can generate power with the pressure of air as it is packed by +earth must know what he is talking about!"</p> + +<p>"I have but one protection against anything down there that tries to +harm me," Asher said simply. "That is this—see?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>hat he held up looked like an old-fashioned six shooter. It was +fitted with a platinum-sealed box in the place where a cylinder would +have been. The barrel looked like some queer, blue glass.</p> + +<p>"Do you see that test tube?" Asher pointed to a glass tube on a table +a few feet away. "Now watch."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> + +<p>He pressed a tiny ratchet under his thumb. A snapping, buzzing noise +filled the laboratory. Johns gave an exclamation of wonder and awe. +Quickly, the test tube started to melt into a pool of molten glass. +Asher increased the pressure of his ratchet trigger. The tube was +knocked to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Static electricity—always some form of electricity," said Asher +grinning at the astonished oil baron. "Conductor coils here," he +continued as he tapped the sealed cylinder, "are charged much as a +flash-lamp battery. The charged conductors attract the static +electricity of the air, and, in a manner similar to the action of the +power generator, increase power. There is a slight difference: by +turning quick power on my static gun, I can cause the charge to knock +down and merely electrocute, as I knocked the half-melted tube from +the table."</p> + +<p>"I can understand that, a little," Johns sighed profoundly. "It's the +same juice that causes a gasoline truck to catch fire if you don't +have a ground chain on it somewhere. But, just the same, I claim it's +remarkable."</p> + +<p>"Not half as remarkable as what I expect to find two miles down when I +descend to-morrow." Asher had a dreamy look in his eyes. "I wonder: +new ways to get petroleum wealth ... a strange people...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_m1.jpg" alt="M" width="68" height="56" /></div> +<p>en,"—Asher, a tight-fitting asbestos composition suit covering him +from foot to neck, spoke tersely—"when you get me on bottom, stop +every bit of machinery, and don't dare pull up until I give the +signal. If I'm down there the entire day, all right. But"—he smiled, +trying to make light of the danger—"if I don't signal within +thirty-six hours, pull up anyhow."</p> + +<p>From the bull-wheels of the drilling rig Asher spooled out some of the +air-hose cable through which air blown over ice would be pumped into +the Miner; then when the long steel cylinder was over the hole and +ready, he turned to the company officials and government scientists +and engineers around him in the boarded-up derrick.</p> + +<p>"Possibly I can get a survey in an hour. Perhaps I'll have to come +back to the surface and make adjustments to my equipment. That remains +to be seen.... Now, let's get low."</p> + +<p>He adjusted a helmet over his head. It looked much like the helmet +worn by a sea diver, except that it had no connecting hose for air. +The windows in the helmet, which contained pressure lights, worked on +the same principle as the disintegrating rays of the Miner. When Asher +turned the ratchet that set the little pressure machine into motion, a +violet tinged green ray of great lighting power shot out and +increased, by weight of air, or atmosphere beneath the earth, the +power of one tiny spark a million times.</p> + +<p>Without ceremony or farewell, Asher crawled inside his tube. The door +was closed and he fastened it from inside. For a moment, wild panic +assailed him. But he fought it off, becoming again less the feeling +human and more the cold calculator of advanced science. The light from +outside, coming in through the windows of the Miner, was shut off. The +long steel cage clanked against the sides of the special casing in the +well, and Blaine Asher was on his trip into a lower world never before +visited by man.</p> + +<p>That was what Asher believed. But, had he known what waited for him, +two miles into the bowels of the earth....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>t five hundred feet, the descent stopped, giving him time to adjust +himself to the pressure change. The gas and oil had been eased out of +the hole. That is, the casing had been run on through the producing +strata, shutting it off. Asher signaled by buzzer, and a stream of the +ice-washed air flowed down to him.</p> + +<p>Three thousand feet! Six thousand feet! More than a mile down! Sweat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> +poured from his body in streams, and the air coming into the Miner +through the hose did not relieve him. It was hot—almost unbearably +so. His ears were roaring. The dark of his tube was relieved as he +turned on his pressure lamps. He adjusted the pressure discs over his +ears by twisting a thumbscrew on his helmet, and the pounding of his +ear-drums ceased.</p> + +<p>Gasping, he watched the depth meter in front of him. It did not seem +as if he was moving, but the indicator now showed more than seven +thousand feet. It moved around slowly and more slowly; trembled at +eight thousand—and stopped.</p> + +<p>Like the snapping of a man's fingers, the temperature inside the Miner +changed. Asher was now fifty feet below the bottom of the oil and gas +sands, and if his theory about rock pressure worked.... It <i>was</i> +working. Frost was forming on the inside of the Miner!</p> + +<p>"I'm right—right—right!" Asher thought, elated, sending his buzzer +signal up to those so far above. The icy air through his hose changed +to air of normal temperature. He signaled for slack in the lowering +cable, then prepared for the greatest test of all.</p> + +<p>Cramped, with hardly room to move, he studied his gages. Helium tubes +at the proper pressure for compressing the tiny spark of the pressure +generator, so it would flare a million times stronger under the action +of the vacuum tubes: diamond and cut-glass tubes in the bottom of the +Miner, thermoed with layers of quicksilver: everything cleared, +everything ready.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>is hand shaking, Asher pushed the tiny switch that brought his +filament points trembling together under the atmospheric pressure so +far underground. A tiny spark danced and throbbed through the tiny +glass tube before him, beginning to buzz as it started the circuit of +increasing coils, and soon humming and vibrating as the helium and +vacuum tubes swelled it to full power. Spark after spark, increased +almost beyond imagination, followed one after another. The Miner +throbbed and shook.</p> + +<p>White-faced, Asher touched the little lever that opened the blasting +outlets in the bottom. Almost instantly the Miner dropped a full six +inches—went on, down to a foot. Asher, pride of success choking him, +pulled the lever hard over, which brought some of the tubes beneath +him spreading out, to blast away the earth on each side of him.</p> + +<p>He signaled for more and more slack as the depth indicator showed he +had burned, or disintegrated, his way down to thirty feet beyond the +original bottom of the hole. He was below the bottom of the protecting +wall of casing now—at the mercy of the pressure of two miles of +earth.</p> + +<p>Slowly, setting all his bottom tubes to cutting away on all sides of +him, he started hollowing out enough room to step out into. His +lights, when he looked through the windows, showed ghostly on earth +ten feet on each side of him. Ten more minutes and he had created a +room nearly twenty-five feet square—a man-made cave, two miles below +the surface.</p> + +<p>There was something akin to awe in the feelings of Asher when he +opened the little door, crawled out and stood erect. The pressure +lamps in his helmet lit up the room he had made. There were no sounds, +just a vague, ringing silence.</p> + +<p>Then so quickly that it robbed him of his senses, two things happened. +A hundred yards away from the well in which he had descended, another +well, drilled by another oil company, was shot. Three hundred quarts +of nitro-glycerine were set off in the hole.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>sher screamed and clamped his ear discs down tight. It seemed the +very gods of thunder were shrieking and raging in his head; every +nerve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> and fiber in his body throbbed and tingled with the hellish +vibration.</p> + +<p>On his knees, where the shock had thrown him, in darkness beyond +description, Asher realized the lights from the Miner no longer shone +out. Frantically, he adjusted the small lights in his helmet and got +them to sending off their rays again. Then, an icy hand seemed to +squeeze his heart, turning his blood to ice-water in his veins. He +cursed himself for not foreseeing that some company might shoot a well +close by, while he was underground.</p> + +<p>He turned. The Miner was all right, but Blaine Asher was trapped! For +the walls of the hole below the bottom of the casing had caved. Thirty +feet of rock, sand and conglomerate matter were between him and the +bottom of the pipe.</p> + +<p>He was trapped—two miles below the earth. There was no hope of +rescue, the hope that miners feel in deep shafts. There could be no +rescue for Asher. No one could get to him. He cried out his horror, +fighting to keep from swooning.</p> + +<p>The helmet hampered him. He turned on a small pressure lamp attached +to the belt at his waist, and chanced taking the helmet off. Dank and +nauseous was the air that he breathed, since it no longer came through +the filters in his helmet. But it was air that would serve, +nevertheless.</p> + +<p>A crackling, rumbling sound caused him to turn quickly. Eyes wide, he +stared at the long crack that was opening before him.</p> + +<p>Asher was between two layers of granite—one layer under him, and +another above him, just below the oil sands. Now, as the crack between +these two layers widened, he could see it slope downward until it +ended in a great cavern that stretched endlessly away beyond the beams +of his light.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t wasn't this crack that caused Blaine Asher, an iron-hearted man of +science, to choke and sag down to a sitting position, his knees +refusing to support him. No—it was the terrible, Godless, +unbelievable <i>Things</i> that scurried around in the smooth rock hall +that stretched away into the cavern.</p> + +<p>Frozen with soul-chilling fear, Asher stared with eyes that bulged. +What were they? Spawned neither of God nor Satan—what could they be? +Black-skinned—or was it skin?—like rubber, with round bodies, like +black basket balls inflated to triple size; bodies that seemed to +ripple, distort, swell and contract with life within life.</p> + +<p>Short, foot-long stems that must have been legs, ending in round balls +that served as feet, no doubt. Tentacles, Asher would have called +them, six feet in length, thick as mighty cables and dotted with +suckers like the tentacles of an octopus. And heads—Asher gagged and +vomited!</p> + +<p>Not heads. Just masses of the black body substance as large as the two +fists of a man. In each head was a crooked black gash for a mouth. +There were no eyes that Asher could see. Yet, these Things seemed to +see one another, and emitted strange, chill, squeaking sounds!</p> + +<p>As Asher watched, the Things sensed his presence. A half hundred of +them rose and started toward him. They did not walk, nor did they +crawl. Undulating, contorting strangely, they came on with incredible +speed, long tentacles waving before them; slithering on the rocky +floor of the cavern; making those odd squeaking noises.</p> + +<p>As they neared him, Asher sprang to his feet, backing up against the +pile of cavings beside the Miner. A long tentacle whipped out and +wrapped around his leg. A short, snout-tentacle quivered toward his +face. There was strength beyond imagining in the grip on him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>ith an almost animal snarl the man from the earth's surface moved to +protect himself from these creatures, surely of the lowest living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +order. He grabbed into the pocket of his loose asbestos composition +suit, and his fingers closed comfortingly around the static gun.</p> + +<p>He aimed it, and the Thing gripping him was hurled back upon the +others. Crackling, snapping viciously, the charges of electricity that +were drawn from the very earth increased in the gun and spumed out +like lightning bolts. The Things squeaked excitedly and surged +forward. Asher's finger pulled the ratchet trigger full force, and +like dew before a strong shaft of sunlight, the gruesome Things were +knocked away.</p> + +<p>Hating the sight, Asher changed the charge of his gun, cutting the +size of the path the volts covered, thereby increasing the potency of +the discharge. The piled bodies sizzled, and to Asher's nose came a +sulphurous smell. Then, there was nothing at all....</p> + +<p>Sick, he put the gun back into the deep pocket and leaned on the wall. +He turned around again to the pile of cavings that barred his way from +the surface, and dug like a madman with his bare hands. The Miner was +weighed down, and he could not use it anyhow. The blasting tubes were +on the bottom, and could not be shifted to the top.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped his crazed work, raised his head and listened. "My +God!" he gasped hoarsely, "am I stark mad?" He thought he must be, for +the voice of a human being came to his ears.</p> + +<p>"You will be pleased, Blaine Asher, to turn around! And do not make +any foolish moves, I warn you."</p> + +<p>"Lee Wong! Krenski!" Asher turned, face to face with the +super-scientists of whom he had spoken to R. Briggs Johns the day +before. Asher shook his head. More of the terrible dream, this meeting +two humans down in the earth's core.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_m1.jpg" alt="M" width="68" height="56" /></div> +<p>ost right, honorable Asher." Lee Wong bowed mockingly. He and +Krenski were garbed in loose-fitting garments of much the same style +as Asher. In their hands, they carried static guns. Not the small gun, +such as Asher had concealed in his pocket. More like heavy air drills, +they were.</p> + +<p>Asher frowned at the lamps they carried. He knew by the dazzling +action of the rays that they were pressure lamps. But they gave off +much better light than those of his own invention. They had gone him +one better there.</p> + +<p>"Did—did you see them?" Asher gulped. "And how—how did you get down +here? Tell me!" He took a step toward Lee Wong, intending to lay his +hand on the Chinaman, to make sure he was live flesh and blood, and +not a figment of his disordered brain.</p> + +<p>"Stand where you are!" Lee Wong snapped. He held the heavy static gun +up and Asher felt a light charge tingle his body. "Those Things of +which you speak—I assume you mean the Petrolia. Ah, yes, we see them. +Every day, we see them. For us they work. They work, my dear Blaine +Asher, tapping upward into the oil sands; sands that are burial places +of countless millions of generations of Petrolia; of lost races that +once ruled supreme over these underground worlds.</p> + +<p>"How simple, to take the oil from below—the oil you want so much +above. Someone must do the work. I and Krenski found the Petrolia +ready and willing. Being creatures of feeling, with little sense, we +were able to bend their dying wills to do our work. You see, we made +them feel we would save them, a dying race, from extinction! They do +our bidding."</p> + +<p>Asher was bewildered by the enormity of the thing. "You mean these +Things you have called Petrolia actually work for you? And that you +saved them from becoming extinct?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_e1.jpg" alt="E" width="52" height="53" /></div> +<p>xactly," Lee Wong nodded, seeming to be enjoying himself. "Like +humans of the surface, Petrolia live on the dead. I mean, wherever we +get our living food from the earth, we plant our dead back in that +earth. Petrolia are spawned in beds of pe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>troleum. Just as eels seek +deep water to lay their eggs, so do Petrolia go to the oil strata to +spawn future tribes.</p> + +<p>"When we pump out the oil, they have no—shall we say +"hatching?"—beds. But now, by tapping and bringing down the oil, we +have assured them more spawning pits. They will increase, and we have +made them sense it. For that matter, the very oil they breed in, gives +them sustenance. That is why they are black fleshed and blooded, and +have suckers instead of mouths, as a black man is black through ages +beneath hot suns.</p> + +<p>"It's easy for us, who are wiser than other men, to figure what +oilfield might contain such people. We have a rapid elevator +connecting us to the surface. And—"</p> + +<p>"Then," Asher almost shouted, "I'm not trapped!"</p> + +<p>"No?" Lee Wong wrinkled his forehead quizzically. "You should realize +that we cannot allow you to go back to the surface—alive, or any +other way. We intend to increase the Petrolia, spreading them to other +underground, yet uninhabited worlds. You would spoil that.</p> + +<p>"No, you will never return to the surface. They cannot haul your tube +to the top, so they will think you perished in it. And"—Lee Wong +shrugged—"it might have been better if you had, Mr.—"</p> + +<p>"<i>I wouldn't!</i>" the yellow man snarled. He rolled the ratchet of his +static gun and Asher was hurled to the floor by the heavy shock. +Wisely, he stood up, keeping his hands well away from the pocket in +which his own gun rested. He doubted whether his little static gun +could compete with the guns of the others, but it was something. They +had not thought to search him—perhaps they might not. It was his only +hope.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>ee Wong bowed low again, motioning Asher to go ahead. "Now you shall +see what we have done. We are proud, and we know you can appreciate +our workings. You will be glad to learn why we do as we are doing; you +will be intrigued as a fellow scientist. Then, so sad to say, you must +perish for having gained that very knowledge."</p> + +<p>Asher shrugged, and through half-closed lids he eyed Lee Wong and the +rather small, slender Krenski, of the high brow and large head. Then +he walked ahead of them. Head up, shoulders back, he walked carelessly +down the wide hall—a hall that led into the main cavern of that +underground empire.</p> + +<p>It was large—fully a hundred feet in a rough square. Not fifteen feet +from floor to ceiling at any point, it followed the course of the two +layers of granite between which it was sandwiched. Other long halls, +or crevices, ran in every direction out of this main cavern. In the +walls, in niches and cracks, the superior pressure lamps had been +placed, throwing a bright, eery light over it all.</p> + +<p>Asher recoiled suddenly at the sight of hundreds of Petrolia that +swarmed the hallways, and they seemed to sense another presence beside +that of Lee Wong or Krenski. A choked, gurgling sound came from the +Chinaman, and they disappeared down the halls, squeaking angrily as +they went.</p> + +<p>"Our control room," explained Lee Wong waving his hand about him. He +pointed to a dozen twenty-four inch pipe-lines that ran along the low +ceiling, coming from as many different halls into the room, but all +going out the same large hall, larger than the rest. "There are the +arteries of our system. There is the oil that is so—shall we say +strangely?—missing in your wells." He smiled, a taunting, mocking +light in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You well understand how we do it. Above us, just below the oil +strata, is a steel, trough-shaped roof. The oil, tapped from below, +drains into these, and then into these pipe-lines. If we were working +from above, now, we would run it to a central shaft, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> pump it out. +We do not want it on the surface, however."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_t1.jpg" alt="T" width="64" height="54" /></div> +<p>hen why in the name of hell do you want it?" Asher barked, a tense +note of anger in his voice. "And what do you do with it?" These two +were humans. At least, they were in man-form, if not in feeling. And +the Petrolia could be handled. Asher was getting mad, and his fear +ebbed.</p> + +<p>"Come." Lee Wong led the way under the pipe-lines, down the large +hall. Krenski, his heavy static gun ready, walked at Asher's back. +They came out into another cavern that stretched beyond the powerful +lights. The sound of their voices echoed like thunder of the drums of +Thor, and Asher realized this cavern might stretch away in Stygian +blackness for hundreds of miles.</p> + +<p>Asher marveled, for the floor of this cavern dropped at least five +feet below the level of the control room or incoming hallways, forming +a natural reservoir. A reservoir for the big streams of oil that were +pouring into it from the pipe-lines.</p> + +<p>The rumble of the oil as it came in and splashed out in a never-ending +stream, and the rumble of the oil streams above them as the precious +fluid flowed down into the plated drain roof, sounded like the tramp +of the weary feet of the damned, as it echoed back and forth across +the mighty cavern.</p> + +<p>"Our storage." Lee Wong stood at the edge and explained. "Also, as you +may see, a concentration incubator, or spawning bed and food storage +for our Petrolia."</p> + +<p>Blaine Asher looked again at the rippling oil at his feet. He choked +brokenly and stepped back a pace. For the oil near the bank was alive! +It rippled and splashed, teeming with life. By the strange alchemy of +breeding in oil and living on oil as man lives on bread, that lake of +oil was a mass of growing Petrolia. Millions—yes, countless +billions—of them! Hideous, foul Things that would be turned loose +with the rest in that nightmare world—that would be taken to other +buried worlds to start new races.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_b1.jpg" alt="B" width="46" height="52" /></div> +<p>ut why—why?" Asher almost screamed the words at Lee Wong.</p> + +<p>"Petrolia will be our armies, protecting our underground wealth," Lee +Wong answered him. "They will be our faithful workers, under no +command but mine. For, even Krenski has not mastered the over-control +it takes to handle them!</p> + +<p>"Gradually, as happened to the field we are now under, all oil fields +will go dry. We will be getting the oil from below, and putting it in +storage in mother earth. Think, Blaine Asher, what it will mean!" +There was a fanatical light in Lee Wong's beady eyes.</p> + +<p>"A world without petroleum is a world without power. No oil for fuel; +no gasoline, lubricants or by-products of any sort. No airplanes could +fly; tanks, tractors, oil-burning trains and ships; mechanical +appliances—nothing could run. We now take the oil from America. +Later, when our Petrolia have increased and we have devised means of +moving them, we will go to all oil-producing countries.</p> + +<p>"We will secrete the oil and paralyze the world. Now, in Russia and +China and India, our societies are organizing and growing. They will +handle the weakened, powerless nations, and I shall be ruler of the +universe, surface and beneath, with Krenski to aid me, you see. It it +wonderful, is it not? And, knowing what you do, having seen what you +have, could you call it impossible?"</p> + +<p>Blaine Asher groaned. It was not impossible, he knew. Unreal; +monstrous—but never impossible. A region of hideous Petrolia; a world +stripped of automotive and mechanical power, its fuel held in the +hands of a few, far underground—it was terrible to think of.</p> + +<p>And Asher the only one who knew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> The only one who could avert such a +thing. The fate of an entire world was in his hands. And he would soon +die.</p> + +<p>Die? No! Blaine Asher swore silently to himself that no power in +existence should keep him from destroying these two fiends. It had to +be done!</p> + +<p>He dared not fail.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_w1.jpg" alt="W" width="78" height="54" /></div> +<p>onderful, stupendous thing," he forced himself to smile. "I'd like +to grasp the hand of the genius who devised and carried out such a +wonderful thing."</p> + +<p>He took a step toward Lee Wong, right hand extended, his left slipping +toward the pocket where his own static gun rested.</p> + +<p>Lee Wong extended his own right band. Something in the chill, flint +look of Asher's eyes must have warned him. Even as Asher's fingers +closed around his hand, he tried to jerk back.</p> + +<p>"Destroy him!" he cried out to Krenski.</p> + +<p>Asher dropped to one knee, letting his static gun remain in his +pocket. His left hand closed around Lee Wong's wrist as the Oriental +tried to pull away. Krenski was bringing the heavy, cylinderlike gun +up and aiming it at Asher.</p> + +<p>Asher twisted on one knee, his teeth gritted, braced to receive the +shock from the gun. He jerked Lee Wong's arm down, heaved and came to +his feet. Crying out, arms and legs flailing, the Chinaman catapulted +toward Krenski—and just at the instant Krenski fired!</p> + +<p>The sickening smell of cindered flesh was in Asher's nostrils as he +turned and ran back up the main hallway. He glanced back over his +shoulder as he ran, and shuddered at the black mass lying at Krenski's +feet. Lee Wong was no more. Wide-eyed, the Russian stared at the thing +at his feet. Then, with a fiendish shriek, turned and brought the gun +into line on the fleeing Asher.</p> + +<p>A crackling charge of electricity singed the back of Asher's head as +he dove head first around the corner of the hall into the control +cavern. He reasoned that Krenski had sent a full charge after him, and +hope kindled higher in his breast. For Asher believed his smaller +static weapon was as strong as that of the other. At that, it would be +a test, and Asher dared not take chances.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e crouched in the door of another hallway, waiting. Cursing, Krenski +dashed into the control cavern. Asher brought his gun up and fired. +But even as he pulled the trigger, a long tentacle reached from the +dark crevice behind him and jerked his arm. His charge snapped by the +Russian, warning the other that Asher, too, was dealing with powerful +electric rays that meant death should they touch.</p> + +<p>Asher yielded to the tug of the slimy, sulphur-smelling tentacle, +letting it pull him into the crevice, the charges of Krenski's weapon +crackling by him, leaving his skin dry, and a powdery sensation in his +mouth.</p> + +<p>In the shelter of the crevice, Asher turned his gun upon the Petrolia +that gripped him. The tentacles fell away, fading to nothingness +before the charges that showed quivery blue in the dark. Like +catacombs, one crevice opened into another. Asher darted into the next +crevice and edged cautiously toward the control cavern.</p> + +<p>The angry buzzing and snapping of Krenski's weapon caused him to duck +instinctively, although no deadly charges came his way.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" he heard the Russian's high-pitched voice, agonized, +wailing, "they're coming in—they're coming in!"</p> + +<p>A squeaking and slithering, now greater than ever, rose above all +other sounds. And Asher realized what Krenski meant. Lee Wong had said +that only he could control the Petrolia. They were swarming into the +control room now. That was what Krenski was shooting at.</p> + +<p>The squeaking sounds came up the crevice in which Asher was and a +cold,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> clammy sweat broke out all over him. He could blast a thousand +of them into nothing. But by sheer force, more body than his light +static gun could down, they would overwhelm him.</p> + +<p>His mind raced swiftly. He remembered the location, out in the control +room, of the cage elevator that ran to the surface. It had not been +hurt by the glycerine blast that had trapped Asher. The elevator shaft +from the control room was cased clear into the cavern floor, and the +blast had not jarred this far.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e wheeled and sent another charge of static electricity into the +crevice back of him, then lunged out into the control room. It would +be his own weapon against Krenski's, and a chance to gain the bottom +of the shaft.</p> + +<p>Krenski—piled, charred heaps of the Petrolia around him, which had +momentarily cleared the attack—was running across the control room. +Like a seething wave, the foul Petrolia undulated from every crevice +and hallway, coming in to fresh attack. The Russian, terror lending +him speed, raced for the cage at the foot of the shaft that led to the +surface. At the same time Asher ran out.</p> + +<p>Nearly a hundred feet apart, on opposite sides of the cavern, they +stopped. Krenski turned his heavy weapon toward Asher at the same time +Asher sent his own gun crackling and snapping out blue, fiery flame.</p> + +<p>Side-stepping, now crouching, now dodging to this side and that, they +fought their strange duel. Asher's right arm was burned, his hair +singed from his head, and his body jarred again and again as Krenski +touched him. Krenski, groaning through gritted teeth, suffered burns +all over his chest and left leg.</p> + +<p>As the Petrolia came on, and the lightning play of deadly electric +charges continued, Asher made a discovery. He noticed that the rays, +or charges, of the two guns, when they met in mid-air, caused blue +flame, and that the charge went no farther.</p> + +<p>It did it again. The two charges met, crackled to explosion in the +air. Krenski, too, noticed it, and he also noticed that the Petrolia +were almost upon them again. Coming on in a wave that could not be +hurled back.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e looked at Asher, and met the dare in Asher's eyes. Straight at each +other, neither moving, they shot their static charges. Neither would +move: it was a challenge from Asher that Krenski had to meet. One of +them would have to die before the other would be able to gain the cage +in the shaft. There could be no compromise, and only one man at a time +could go surfaceward. If they continued to dodge and fight, the +Petrolia would overwhelm them.</p> + +<p>Power against power, they fought it out.</p> + +<p>Asher's finger tightened on his trigger release until it seemed the +skin would split; then he caused his hand to tremble just enough to +make his electric charges cover the space in which Krenski's charges +traveled. Hissing, spitting, flashing explosions, giving off sounds +and light like big explosions of flash powder, the charges met.</p> + +<p>Asher tingled from head to foot, and thrilled to the very marvel of +the thing. Two deadly beams of electricity, holding each other off!</p> + +<p>In one long, continuous flash, the contact point of the charges began +to shift. Closer and closer, as the force of superior charges cleaved +through the other, the contact points neared Krenski. He saw death +upon him, for in another instant, Asher's charges would hurl his own +bolts back upon him. The smaller weapon of Blaine Asher, attracting +more static electric currents by reason of having a small attracting +battery inside, where the larger gun of the other depended upon +magnets for attraction, was triumphing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p> + +<p>Krenski's mustache and light beard singed and curled. He cried out, +stepped back, throwing up his arms as death flashed through his body.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>is gun playing about him, Asher raced toward the big valves and gates +that shut off the drain of the pipe-lines. Burning, reeking of sulphur +and burned leather, the Petrolia vanished before him. But, as he +turned, the drainage system that was robbing the field shut off. They +had blocked his way again!</p> + +<p>Too many to blast away altogether, they pressed in. Asher leaped +forward, feet kicking, left fist smashing out, static gun crackling as +if to tell him that nothing could stop them. Tentacles gripped at him, +the foul, stinking smell gagged him. But the squeaks of the Petrolia +maddened him.</p> + +<p>"Squeak, damn you!" Asher shouted wildly, kicking, shooting and +hitting, gaining toward the shaft. "Squeak—for all the damned Things +that ever bred below the earth cannot stop one surface man!"</p> + +<p>He burned and fought his way through and jumped into the cage as his +gun electrocuted two of the Petrolia that tried to weave in after him. +As he slammed the door, Asher was conscious that something was +happening. He hesitated, just long enough to see the cavern start +buckling and caving. The pressure of the oil, now shut off, was +filling back toward the surface, creating a mighty pressure downward. +The surface wells would produce man's power-fuel once more.</p> + +<p>Asher slammed the door, turned on the power, and the cage shot upward.</p> + +<p>A half hour later, those waiting on the floor of the derrick above the +hole in which Asher had gone down, started. Asher, burned, wounded, +blood streaming from his battered body, staggered in and collapsed at +their feet.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p> can't believe it! Insane! Impossible! Yet, every well in this field +has started producing again! And when we went to that old, abandoned +wildcat well, we found the shaft opening! I had it covered up, as you +ordered."</p> + +<p>R. Briggs Johns paced up and down the laboratory floor, talking to +Asher, who had just arisen from his bed, two weeks after he had +collapsed at their feet in the derrick. Still bandaged, he was a +different Blaine Asher. His face was lined, and the hair next to his +scalp nearly snow white.</p> + +<p>"I'll be able to do some walking around outside in a few days," Asher +declared as he cleaned a test tube and placed it in a rack. "I can +locate several wells over that underground storage cavern, and you can +recover that oil. But you can't mine this field.</p> + +<p>"Twenty years, perhaps, and you can. But it will take that long for +those Petrolia to die out. We've got to get the oil out from below to +a point where they can no longer spawn. We will apply mining in other +fields—but not here!"</p> + +<p>"Not here," Johns repeated, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"It's up to you to see no one else tries it." Asher lit a cigarette +and nodded at Johns. "Get control of the field—anything. Tell the oil +men something. But don't tell then the truth. They wouldn't believe +you. They would call you raving mad.</p> + +<p>"The world does not know. It would not believe. Can we do other than +remain silent?"</p> + +<p>R. Briggs Johns, sick of thinking of the cavern world and horrible +things below them, knew they could not.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_008.jpg" alt="Like feathers we were blown with it." width="600" height="481" class="img1" /> +<span class="caption">Like feathers we were blown with it.</span></div> + +<h2><a name="Brigands_of_the_Moon" id="Brigands_of_the_Moon"></a>Brigands of the Moon</h2> + +<h4>(The Book of Gregg Haljan)</h4> +<h4>CONCLUSION OF A FOUR PART NOVEL.</h4> +<h3><i>By Ray Cummings</i></h3> +<h4>CHAPTER XXXIV</h4> +<h4><i>The First Encounters</i></h4> +<div class="sidenote">The besieged Earth-men wage grim, ultra-scientific war with +Martian bandits in a last great struggle for their radium-ore—and +their lives.</div> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t seemed, with that first shot from the enemy, that a great relief +came to me—an apprehension fallen away. We had anticipated this +moment for so long, dreaded it. I think all our men felt it. A shout +went up:</p> + +<p>"Harmless!"</p> + +<p>It was not that. But our building withstood it better than I had +feared. It was a flash from a large electronic projector mounted on +the deck of the brigand ship. It stabbed up from the shadows across +the valley at the foot of the opposite crater-wall, a beam of vaguely +fluorescent light. Simultaneously the search-light vanished.</p> + +<p>The stream of electrons caught the front face of our main building in +a six-foot circle. It held a few seconds, vanished; then stabbed +again, and still again. Three bolts. A total, I suppose, of nine or +ten seconds.</p> + +<p>I was standing with Grantline at a front window. We had rigged an +oblong of insulated fabric like a curtain: we stood peering, holding +the curtain cautiously aside. The ray struck some twenty feet away +from us.</p> + +<p>"Harmless!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p> + +<p>The men in the room shouted it with derision. But Grantline swung on +them.</p> + +<p>"Don't think that!"</p> + +<p>An interior signal-panel was beside Grantline. He called the duty-men +in the instrument room.</p> + +<p>"It's over. What are your readings?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he bombarding electrons had passed through the outer shell of the +building's double-wall, and been absorbed in the rarefied, magnetized +air-current of the Erentz circulation. Like poison in a man's veins, +reaching his heart, the free alien electrons had disturbed the motors. +They accelerated, then retarded. Pulsed unevenly, and drew added power +from the reserve tanks. But they had normalized at once when the shot +was past. The duty-man's voice sounded from the grid in answer to +Grantline's question:</p> + +<p>"Five degrees colder in your building. Can't you feel it?"</p> + +<p>The disturbed, weakened Erentz circulation had allowed the outer cold +to radiate through a trifle. The walls had had a trifle extra +explosive pressure from the room-air. A strain—but that was all.</p> + +<p>"It's probably their most powerful single weapon, Gregg." Grantline +said.</p> + +<p>I nodded. "Yes. I think so."</p> + +<p>I had smashed the real giant, with its ten-mile range. The ship was +only two miles from us, but it seemed as though this projector were +exerted to its distance limit. I had noticed on the deck only one of +this type. The others, paralyzing-rays and heat rays, were less +deadly.</p> + +<p>Grantline commented: "We can withstand a lot of that bombardment. If +we stay inside—"</p> + +<p>That ray, striking a man outside, would penetrate his Erentz suit +within a few seconds, we could not doubt. We had, however, no +intention of going out unless for dire necessity.</p> + +<p>"Even so," said Grantline. "A hand-shield would hold it off for a +certain length of time."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>e had an opportunity a moment later to test our insulated shields. +The bolt came again. It darted along the front face of the building, +caught our window and clung. The double window-shells were our weakest +points. The sheet of flashing Erentz current was transparent: we could +see through it as though it were glass. It moved faster, but was +thinner at the windows than in the walls. We feared the bombarding +electrons might cross it, penetrate the inner shell and, like a +lightning bolt, enter the room.</p> + +<p>We dropped the curtain corner. The radiance of the bolt was dimly +visible. A few seconds, then it vanished again, and behind the shield +we had not felt a tingle.</p> + +<p>"Harmless!"</p> + +<p>But our power had been drained nearly an aeron, to neutralize the +shock to the Erentz current. Grantline said:</p> + +<p>"If they kept that up, it would be a question of whose power supply +would last longest. And it would not be ours.... You saw our lights +fade down while the bolt was striking?"</p> + +<p>But the brigands did not know we were short of power. And to fire the +projector with a continuous bolt would, in thirty minutes, perhaps, +have exhausted their own power-reserve.</p> + +<p>This strange warfare! It was new to all of us, for there had been no +wars on any of the three inhabited worlds for many years. Silent, +electronic conflict! Not a question of men in battle. A man at a +switch on the brigand ship was the sole actor so far in this assault. +And the results were visible only in the movement of the needle-dials +on our instrument panels. A struggle, so far, not of man's bravery, or +skill, or strategy, but merely of electronic power supply.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_y.jpg" alt="Y" width="50" height="55" /></div> +<p>et warfare, however modern, can never transcend the human element. +Before this insult was ended I was to have many demonstrations of +that!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I won't answer them," Grantline declared. "Our game is to sit +defensive. Conserve everything. Let them make the leading moves."</p> + +<p>We waited half an hour, but no other shot came. The valley floor was +patched with Earthlight and shadow. We could see the vague outline of +the brigand ship backed up at the foot of the opposite crater-wall. +The form of its dome over the illumined deck was visible, and the line +of its tiny hull ovals.</p> + +<p>On the rocks near the ship, helmet-lights of prowling brigands +occasionally showed.</p> + +<p>Whatever activity was going on down there we could not see with the +naked eye. Grantline did not use our telescope at first. To connect +it, even for local range, drew on our precious ammunition of power. +Some of the men urged that we search the sky with the telescope. Was +our rescue ship from Earth coming? But Grantline refused. We were in +no trouble yet. And every delay was to our advantage.</p> + +<p>"Commander, where shall I put these helmets?"</p> + +<p>A man came wheeling a pile of helmets on a little truck.</p> + +<p>"At the manual porte—other building."</p> + +<p>Our weapons and outside equipment were massed at the main exit-locks +of the large building. But we might want to sally out through the +smaller locks also. Grantline sent helmets there; suits were not +needed, as most of us were garbed in them now, but without the +helmets.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>nap was still in the workshop. I went there during this first +half-hour of the attack. Ten of our men were busy there with the +little flying platforms and the fabric shields.</p> + +<p>"How is it, Snap?"</p> + +<p>"Almost all ready."</p> + +<p>He had six of the platforms, including the one we had already used, +and more than a dozen hand-shields. At a squeeze, all of us could ride +on these six little vehicles. We might have to ride them! We planned +that, in the event of disaster to the buildings, we could at least +escape in this fashion. Food supplies and water were now being placed +at the portes.</p> + +<p>Depressing preparations! Our buildings uninhabitable, a rush out and +away, abandoning the treasure.... Grantline had never mentioned such a +contingency, but I noticed, nevertheless, that preparations were being +made.</p> + +<p>"Only that one shot, Gregg?"</p> + +<p>Snap's voice was raised over the clang of the workmen bolting the +little gravity-plates of the last platform.</p> + +<p>"Four blasts. But just the one projector. Their strongest."</p> + +<p>He grinned. He wore no Erentz suit as yet. He stood in torn grimy +work-trousers and a bedraggled shirt, with the inevitable red eyeshade +holding back his unruly hair. Around his waist was the weighted belt +and there were weights on his shoes for gravity stability.</p> + +<p>"Didn't hurt us much."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"When I get the tube-panels in this thing I'll be finished. It'll take +another half-hour. I'll join you. Where are you stationed?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> shrugged. "I was at a front window with Johnny. Nothing to do as +yet."</p> + +<p>Snap went back to his work. "Well, the longer they delay, the better +for us. If only your signal got through, Gregg! We'll have a rescue +ship here in a few hours more."</p> + +<p>Ah, that "if!"</p> + +<p>I turned away. "Can't help you, Snap?"</p> + +<p>"No. Take those shields," he added to one of the men.</p> + +<p>"Take them where?"</p> + +<p>"To Grantline. The front admission porte, or the back. He'll tell you +which."</p> + +<p>The shields were wheeled away on a little cart. I followed it. +Grantline sent it to the back exit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No other move from them yet, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"No. All quiet."</p> + +<p>"Snap's almost finished."</p> + +<p>The brigands presently made another play. A giant heat-ray beam came +across the valley. It clung to our front wall for nearly a minute.</p> + +<p>Grantline got the reports from the instrument room. He laughed.</p> + +<p>"That helped rather than hurt us. Heated the outer wall. Frank took +advantage of it and eased up the motors."</p> + +<p>We wondered if Miko knew that. Doubtless he did, for another interval +passed and the heat-ray was not used again.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>hen came a zed-ray. I stood at the window, watching it, faint sheen +of beam in the dimness. It crept with sinister deliberation along our +front building-wall, clung momentarily to our shielded windows and +pried with its revealing glow into Snap's workshop.</p> + +<p>"Looking us over," Grantline commented. "I hope they like what they +see."</p> + +<p>I knew he did not feel the bravado that was in his tone. We had +nothing but small hand weapons: heat-rays, electronic projectors, and +bullet projectors. All for very short-range fighting. If Miko had not +known that before, he could at least make a good guess at it after the +careful zed-ray inspection. With his ship down there two miles away, +we were powerless to reach him.</p> + +<p>It seemed that Miko was now testing the use of all his mechanisms. A +light-flare went up from the dome-peak of the ship. It rose in a slow +arc over the valley, and burst. For a few seconds the two-mile circle +of crags was brilliantly illumined. I stared, but I had to shield my +eyes against the dazzling actinic glare, and I could see nothing. Was +Miko making a zed-ray photograph of our interiors? We had no way of +knowing.</p> + +<p>He was testing his short-range projectors now. With my eyes again +accustomed to the normal Earthlight in the valley, I could see the +stabs of little electronic beams, the Martian paralyzing-rays and +heat-beams. They darted out like flashing swords from the rocks near +the ship.</p> + +<p>Then the whole ship and the crater-wall behind it seemed to shift +sidewise as a Benson curve-light spread its glow about the ship, with +a projector curve-beam coming up and touching the window through which +I was peering.</p> + +<p>"Haljan, come look at these damn girls! Commander—shall I stop them? +They'll kill themselves, or kill us—or smash something!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>e followed the man into the building's broad central corridor. Anita +and Venza were riding a midget flying platform! Anita, in her boyish +black garb; Venza with a flowing white Venus-robe. They lay on the +tiny, six-foot oblong of metal, one manipulating its side shields, the +other at the controls. As we arrived, the platform came sliding down +the narrow confines of the corridor, lurching, barely missing a +door-grid projection. Up to skim the low vaulted ceiling, then down to +the floor.</p> + +<p>It sailed past our heads, rising over us as we ducked. Anita waved her +hand.</p> + +<p>Grantline gasped, "By the infernal!"</p> + +<p>I shouted, "Anita, stop!"</p> + +<p>But they only waved at us, skimming down the length of the corridor, +seeming to avoid a smash a dozen times by the smallest margin of +chance, stopping miraculously at the further end, hanging poised in +mid-air, wheeling, coming back, undulating up and down.</p> + +<p>Grantline clung to me. "By the gods of the airways!"</p> + +<p>In spite of my astonished horror I could not but share Grantline's +obvious admiration. Three of four other men were watching. The girls +were amazingly skillful, no doubt of that. There was not a man among +us who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> could have handled that gravity-platform indoors, not one who +would have had the brash temerity to try it.</p> + +<p>The platform landed with the grace of a humming bird at our feet, the +girls dexterously balancing so that it came to rest swiftly, without +the least bump.</p> + +<p>I confronted them. "Anita, what are you doing?"</p> + +<p>She stood up, flushed and smiling.</p> + +<p>"Practising."</p> + +<p>Imperturbable girls! The product of their age. Oblivious to the +brigand attack, they were in here practising!</p> + +<p>"What for?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>Venza's roguish eyes twinkled at me. Her hands went to her slim hips +with a gesture of defiance.</p> + +<p>She asked, "Are you speaking for yourself or the commander?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> ignored her. "What for?" I reiterated.</p> + +<p>"Because we're good at it," Anita retorted. "Better than any of you +men. If you should need us...."</p> + +<p>"We don't. We won't." I said shortly.</p> + +<p>"But if you should...."</p> + +<p>Venza put in, "If Snap and I hadn't come for you, you wouldn't be +here, Gregg Haljan. I didn't notice you were so horrified to see me +holding that shield up over you!"</p> + +<p>It silenced me.</p> + +<p>She added, "Commander, let us alone. We won't smash anything."</p> + +<p>Grantline laughed, "I hope you won't!"</p> + +<p>A warning call took us back to the front window. The brigand's +search-beam was again being used. It swept slowly along the length of +the cliff. Its circle went down the cliff steps to the valley floor, +and came sweeping up again. Then it went up to the observatory +platform at the summit above us, then back and crept over to the +ore-sheds.</p> + +<p>We had no men outside, if that was what the brigand wanted to +determine. The search-beam presently vanished. It was replaced +immediately by a zed-ray, which darted at once to our treasure sheds +and clung.</p> + +<p>That stung Grantline into his first action. We flung our own zed-ray +down across the valley. It reached the brigand ship; this zed-ray and +a search-light were our only two projectors of long range.</p> + +<p>The brigand ray vanished when ours flashed on. I was with Grantline at +an image grid in the instrument room. We saw the deck of the brigand +ship and the blurred interior of the cabins.</p> + +<p>"Try the search-beam, Franck. We don't need the other."</p> + +<p>The zed-ray went off. We gazed down our search-light which clung to +the dome of the distant enemy vessel. We could see movement there.</p> + +<p>"The telescope," Grantline ordered.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he little dynamos hummed. The telescope-finder glowed and clarified. +On the deck of the ship we saw the brigands working with the +assembling of ore-carts. A deck landing-porte was open. The ore-carts +were being carried out through a porte-lock and down a landing +incline. And on the rocks outside, we saw several of the carts—and +rail-sections and the sections of an ore-shute.</p> + +<p>Miko was unloading his mining apparatus! He was making ready to come +up for the treasure!</p> + +<p>The discovery, startling as it was, nevertheless was far overshadowed +by an imperative danger alarm from our main building. Brigands were +outside on our ledge! Miko's search-beam, sweeping the ledge a moment +before, had carefully avoided revealing them. It had been done just +for that purpose, no doubt—making us sure that the ledge was +unoccupied and thus to guard against our own light making a search.</p> + +<p>But there was a brigand group here close outside our walls! By the +merest chance the radiating glow from our search-ray had shown the +helmeted figures scurrying for shelter.</p> + +<p>Grantline leaped to his feet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span></p> + +<p>We rushed for the rear exit-porte which was nearest us. The giant +bloated figures had been seen running along the outside of the +connecting corridor, in this direction. But before we ever got there, +a new alarm came. A brigand was crouching at a front corner of the +main building! His hydrogen heat-torch had already opened a rift in +the wall!</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XXXV</h4> +<h4><i>Desperate Offensive</i></h4> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p>n with you!" ordered Grantline. "Get your helmets on! How many? Six? +Enough—get back there, Williams—you were last. The lock won't hold +any more."</p> + +<p>I was one of the six who jammed into the manual exit lock. We went +through it: in a moment we were outside. It was less than three +minutes since the prowling brigands had been seen.</p> + +<p>Grantline touched me just as we emerged. "Don't wait for orders! Get +them!"</p> + +<p>"That fellow with the torch, the most dangerous—"</p> + +<p>"Yes! I'm with you."</p> + +<p>We went out with a rush. We had already discarded our shoe and belt +weights. I leaped, regardless of my companions.</p> + +<p>The scurrying Martians had disappeared. Through my visor bull's-eye I +could see only the Earthlit rocky surface of the ledge. Beside me +stretched the dark wall of our building.</p> + +<p>I bounded toward the front. The brigand with the torch had been at +this front corner. I could not see him from here: he had been +crouching just around the angle.</p> + +<p>I had a tiny bullet projector, the best weapon for short range +outdoors. I was aware of Grantline close behind me.</p> + +<p>It took only a few of my giant leaps. I landed at the corner, +recovered my balance, and whirled around to the front.</p> + +<p>The Martian was here, a giant misshapen lump as he crouched. His torch +was a little stab of blue in the deep shadow enveloping him. Intent +upon his work, he did not see me. Perhaps he thought his fellows had +broken our exits by now.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> landed like a leopard upon his back and fired, my weapon muzzle +ramming him. His torch fell hissing with a silent rain of blue fire +upon the rocks.</p> + +<p>As my grip upon him made audiphone contact, his agonized scream +rattled the diaphragms of my ear-grids with horrible, deafening +intensity.</p> + +<p>He lay writhing under me, then was still. His scream choked into +silence. His suit deflated within my encircling grip. He was dead; my +leaden, steel-tipped pellet had punctured the double surface of his +Erentz-fabric, penetrated his chest.</p> + +<p>Grantline's following leap landed him over me.</p> + +<p>"Dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>I climbed from the inert body. The torch had hissed itself out. +Grantline swung on our building corner, and I leaned down with him to +examine it. The torch had fused and scarred the surface of the wall, +burned almost through. A pressure-rift had opened. We could see it, a +curving gash in the metal wall-plate like a crack in a glass +window-pane.</p> + +<p>I went cold. This was serious damage! The rarefied Erentz-air would +seep out. It was leaking now: we could see the magnetic radiance of it +all up the length of the ten-foot crack. The leak would change the +pressure of the Erentz system, constantly lower it, demanding steady +renewal. The Erentz motors would overheat; some might go bad from the +strain.</p> + +<p>Grantline stood gripping me.</p> + +<p>"Damn bad!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Can't we repair it, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"No. Have to take that whole plate-section out, shut off the Erentz +plant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> and exhaust the interior air of all this bulkhead of the +building. Day's job—maybe more."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>nd the crack would get worse, I knew. It would gradually spread and +widen. The Erentz circulation would fail. All our power would be +drained struggling to maintain it. This brigand who had unwittingly +committed suicide by his daring act had accomplished more than he +perhaps had realized. I could envisage our weapons, useless from lack +of power. The air in our buildings turning fetid and frigid: ourselves +forced to the helmets. A rush out to abandon the camp and escape. The +buildings exploding—scattering into a litter on the ledge like a +child's broken toy. The treasure abandoned, with the brigands coming +up and loading it on their ship.</p> + +<p>Our defeat. In a few hours now—or minutes. This crack could slowly +widen, or it could break suddenly at any time. Disaster, come now so +abruptly upon us at the very start of the brigand attack....</p> + +<p>Grantline's voice in my audiphone broke my despairing rush of +thoughts. "Bad. Come on, Gregg; nothing to do here."</p> + +<p>We were aware that our other four men had run along the building's +other side. They emerged now—with the running brigands in front of +them, rushing out toward the staircase on the ledge. Three giant +Martian figures in flight, with our four men chasing.</p> + +<p>A bullet projector spat, with its queer stab of exploding powder fed +by the burning oxygen fumes of its artificial air-chamber—one of our +men firing. A brigand fell to the rocks by the brink of the ledge. The +others reached the descending staircase, tumbled down it with reckless +leaps.</p> + +<p>Our men turned back. Before we could join them, the enemy ship down in +the valley sent up a cautious search-beam which located its returning +men. Then the beam swung up to the ledge, landed upon us.</p> + +<p>We stood confused, blinded by the brilliant glare. Grantline stumbled +against me.</p> + +<p>"Run, Gregg! They'll be firing at us."</p> + +<p>We dashed away. Our companions joined us, rushing back for the porte. +I saw it open, reinforcements coming out to help us—half a dozen +figures carrying a ten-foot insulated shield. They could barely get it +out through the porte.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he Martian search-ray abruptly vanished. Then almost instantly the +electronic ray came with its deadly stab. Missed us at first, as we +ran for the shield. It vanished, and stabbed again. It caught us, but +now we were behind the shield, carrying it back to the porte, hiding +behind it.</p> + +<p>The ray stabbed once or twice more.</p> + +<p>Whether Miko's instruments showed him how serious that damage was to +our front wall, we never knew. But I think that he realized. His +search-beam clung to it, and his zed-ray pried into our interiors.</p> + +<p>The brigand ship was active now. We were desperate: we used our +telescope freely for observation. And used our zed-ray and +search-light. Miko's ore-carts and mining apparatus were unloaded on +the rocks. The rail-sections were being carried a mile out, nearly to +the center of the valley. A subsidiary camp was being established +there, only a mile from the base of our cliff, but still far beyond +reach of our weapons. We could see the brigand lights down there.</p> + +<p>Then the ore-shute sections were brought over. We could see Miko's men +carrying some of the giant projectors, mounting them in the new +position. Power tanks and cables. Light-flare catapults—little +mechanical cannons for throwing the bombs.</p> + +<p>The enemy search-light constantly raked our vicinity. Occasionally the +giant electronic projector flung up its bolt as though warning us not +to dare leave our buildings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>alf an hour went by. Our situation was even worse than Miko could +know. The Erentz motors were running hot—our power draining, the +crack widening. When it would break we could not tell; but the danger +was like a sword over us.</p> + +<p>An anxious thirty minutes for us, this second interlude. Grantline +called a meeting of all our little force, with every man having his +say. Inactivity was no longer a feasible policy. We recklessly used +our power to search the sky. Our rescue ship might be up there; but we +could not see it with our disabled instruments. No signals came. We +could not—or, at least, did not—receive them.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't signal," Grantline protested. "They'd know the Martians +would be more likely to get the signal than us. Of what use to warn +Miko?"</p> + +<p>But he did not dare wait for a rescue ship that might or might not be +coming! Miko was playing the waiting game now—making ready for a +quick loading of the ore when we were forced to abandon our buildings.</p> + +<p>The brigand ship suddenly moved its position! It rose up in a low flat +arc, came forward and settled in the center of the valley where the +carts and rail-sections were piled, and the outside projectors newly +mounted on the rocks. But the projectors only shot at us occasionally.</p> + +<p>The brigands now began laying the rails from the ship toward the base +of our cliff. The chute would bring the ore down from the ledge, and +the carts would take it to the ship.</p> + +<p>The laying of the rails was done under cover of occasional stabs from +the electronic projector.</p> + +<p>And then we discovered that Miko had made still another move. The +brigand rays, fired from the depths of the valley, could strike our +front building, but could not reach all our ledge. And from the ship's +new and nearer position this disadvantage was intensified. Then +abruptly we realized that under cover of darkness-bombs an electronic +projector and search-ray had been carried to the top of the +crater-rim, diagonally across and only half a mile from us. Their +beams shot down, raking all our vicinity from this new angle.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> was on the little flying platform which sallied out as a test to +attack these isolated projectors. Snap and I and one other volunteer +went. He and I held the shield; Snap handled the controls.</p> + +<p>Our exit-porte was on the lee side of the building from the hostile +search-beam. We got out unobserved and sailed upward; but soon a light +from the ship caught us. And the projector bolts came up....</p> + +<p>Our sortie only lasted a few minutes. To me, it was a confusion of +crossing beams, with the stars overhead, the swaying little platform +under me, and the shield tingling in my hands when the blasts struck +us. Moments of blurred terror....</p> + +<p>The voice of the man beside me sounded in my ears: "Now, Haljan, give +them one!"</p> + +<p>We were up over the peak of the rim with the hostile projectors under +us. I gauged our movement, and dropped an explosive powder bomb.</p> + +<p>It missed. It flared with a puff on the rocks, twenty feet from where +the two projectors were mounted. I saw that two helmeted figures were +down there. They tried to swing their grids upward, but could not get +them vertical to reach us. The ship was firing at us, but it was far +away. And Grantline's search-beam was going full-power, clinging to +the ship to dazzle them.</p> + +<p>Snap circled us. As we came back I dropped another bomb. Its silent +puff seemed littered with flying fragments of the two projectors and +the bodies of the men.</p> + +<p>We flew swiftly back and got in.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t decided Grantline. For an hour past Snap and I had been urging our +plan to use the gravity platforms. To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> remain inactive was sure defeat +now. Even if our buildings did not explode—if we thought to huddle in +them, helmeted in the failing air—then Miko could readily ignore us +and proceed with his loading of the treasure under our helpless gaze. +He could do that now with safety—if we refused to sally out—for we +could not fire our weapons through our windows.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> To fire a projector through the walls or windows would at +once wreck the protective Erentz system. The enemy ship has pressure +portes, constructed for the emission of the weapon-rays. Grantline's +only weapons thus mounted were his search-beam and zed-ray.</p></div> + +<p>To remain defensive would end inevitably in our defeat. We all knew it +now; it was obvious. The waiting game was Miko's—not ours! And he was +playing it.</p> + +<p>The success of our attack upon the distant isolated projectors +heartened us. Yet it was a desperate offensive indeed upon which we +now decided!</p> + +<p>We prepared our little expedition at the larger of the exit portes. +Miko's zed-ray was watching all our interior movements. We made a +brave show of activity in our workshop with abandoned ore-carts which +were stored there. We got them out, started to recondition them.</p> + +<p>It seemed to fool Miko. His zed-ray clung to the workshop, watching +us. And at the distant porte we gathered the little platforms, the +shields, helmets, bombs, and a few hand-projectors.</p> + +<p>There were six platforms—three of us upon each. It left four people +to remain indoors.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> need not describe the emotion with which Snap and I listened to +Venza and Anita pleading to be allowed to accompany us. They urged it +upon Grantline, and we took no part. It was too important a decision. +The treasure—the life or death of all these men—hung now upon the +fate of our venture. Snap and I could not intrude our personal +feelings.</p> + +<p>And the girls won. Both were undeniably more skilful at handling the +midget platforms than any of us men. Two of the six platforms could be +guided by them. That was a third of our little force! And of what use +to go out and be defeated, leaving the girls here to meet death almost +immediately afterward?</p> + +<p>We gathered at the porte. A last minute change made Grantline order +six of his men to remain guarding the buildings. The instruments—the +Erentz system—all the appliances had to be attended.</p> + +<p>It left four platforms, each with three men, with Grantline at the +controls of one of them. And upon the other two of the six Venza rode +with Snap, and I with Anita.</p> + +<p>We crouched in the shadows outside the porte. So small an army, +sallying out to bomb this enemy vessel or be killed in the attempt! +Only sixteen of us. And thirty or so brigands.</p> + +<p>I envisaged then this tiny Moon-crater, the scene of this battle we +were waging. Struggling humans, desperately trying to kill. Alone here +on this globe. Around us, the wide reaches of Lunar desolation. In all +this world, every human being was gathered here, struggling to kill!</p> + +<p>Anita drew me down to the platform. "Ready, Gregg."</p> + +<p>The others were rising. We lifted, moved slowly out and away from the +protective shadows of the building.</p> + +<p>In a tiny queue the six little platforms sailed out over the valley +toward the brigand ship.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XXXVI</h4> +<h4><i>The Battle in the Crater</i></h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_g.jpg" alt="G" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>rantline led us. We held about level. Five hundred feet beneath us +the brigand ship lay, cradled on the rocks. When it was still a mile +away from us I could see all its outline fairly clearly in the +dimness. Its tiny hull-windows were now dark; but the blurred shape of +the hull was visible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> and above it the rounded cap of dome, with a dim +radiance beneath it.</p> + +<p>We followed Grantline's platform. It was rising, drawing the others +after it like a tail. I touched Anita where she lay beside me with her +head half in the small hooded control-bank.</p> + +<p>"Going too high."</p> + +<p>She nodded, but followed the line nevertheless. It was Grantline's +command.</p> + +<p>I lay crouched, holding the inner tips of the flexible side-shields. +The bottom of the platform was covered with the insulated fabric. +There were two side-shields. They extended upward some two feet, +flexible so that I could hold them out to see over them, or draw them +up and in to cover us.</p> + +<p>They afforded a measure of protection against the hostile rays, though +just how much we were not sure. With the platform level, a bolt from +beneath could not harm us unless it continued for a considerable time. +But the platform, except upon direct flight, was seldom level, for it +was a frail, unstable little vehicle! To handle it was more than a +question of the controls. We balanced, and helped to guide it, with +the movement of our bodies—shifting our weight sidewise, or back, or +forward to make it dip as the controls altered the gravity-pull in its +tiny plate-sections.</p> + +<p>Like a bird, wheeling, soaring, swooping. To me, it was a precarious +business.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ut now we were in straight flight diagonally upward. The outline of +the brigand ship came under us. I crouched tense, breathless; every +moment it seemed that the brigands must discover us and loose their +bolts.</p> + +<p>They may have seen us for some moments before they fired. I peered +over the side-shield down at our mark, then up ahead to get +Grantline's firing signal. It seemed long delayed. We were almost over +the ship. An added glow down there must have warned Grantline that a +shot was coming. The tiny red light flared bright on his platform.</p> + +<p>I hissed on our Benson curve-light radiance. We had been dark, but a +soft glow now enveloped us. Its sheen went down to the ship to reveal +us. But its curving path showed us falsely placed. I saw the little +line of platforms ahead of us seem to move suddenly sidewise.</p> + +<p>It was everyone for himself now; none of us could tell where the other +platforms actually were placed or headed. Anita swooped us sharply +down to avoid a possible collision.</p> + +<p>"Gregg—?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'm aiming."</p> + +<p>I was making ready to drop the little explosive globe-bomb. Our +search-light ray at the camp, answering Grantline's signal, shot down +and bathed the ship in a white glare, revealing it for our aim. +Simultaneously the brigand bolts came up at us.</p> + +<p>I held my bomb out over the shield, calculating the angle to throw it +down. The brigand rays flashed around me. They were horribly close; +Miko had understood our sudden visible shift and aimed, not where we +appeared to be, but where we had been a moment before.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> dropped my bomb hastily at the glowing white ship. The touch of a +hostile ray would have exploded it in my hand. I could see its +blue-sizzling fuse as it fell. I saw the others also dropping from our +nearby platforms. The explosions from them merged in a confusion of +the white glare—and a cloud of black light-mist as the brigands out +on the rocks used their occulting darkness bombs.</p> + +<p>We swept past in a blur of leaping hostile beams. Silent battle of +lights! Darkness bombs down at the ship struggling to bar our camp +search-ray. The Benson radiance-rays from our passing platforms +curving down to mingle with the confusion. The electronic rays sending +up their bolts....</p> + +<p>Our platforms dropped some ten dynamitrine bombs in that first +passage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> over the ship. As we sped by, I dimmed the Benson's radiance. +I peered. We had not hit the ship. Or if we had, the damage was +inconclusive. But on the rocks I could see a pile of ore-carts +scattered—broken wreckage, in which the litter of two or three +projectors seemed strewn. And the gruesome deflated forms of several +helmeted figures. Others seemed, to be running, scattering—hiding in +the rocks and pit-holes. Twenty brigands at least were outside the +ship. Some were running over toward the base of our camp-ledge. The +darkness bombs were spreading like a curtain over the valley floor; +but it seemed that some of the figures were dragging their projectors +away.</p> + +<p>We sailed off toward the opposite crater-rim. I remember passing over +the broken wreckage of Grantline's little space-ship, the <i>Comet</i>. +Miko's bolts momentarily had vanished. We had hit some of his outside +projectors; the others were abandoned, or being dragged to safer +positions.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>fter a mile we wheeled and went back. I suddenly realized that only +four platforms were in the re-formed line ahead of us. One was +missing! I saw it now, wavering down, close over the ship. A bolt +leaped up diagonally from a distant angle on the rocks and caught the +disabled platform. It fell, whirling, glowing red—disappeared into +the blur of darkness like a bit of heated metal plunged into water.</p> + +<p>One out of six of our platforms already lost! Three men of our little +force gone!</p> + +<p>But Grantline led us desperately back. Anita caught his signal to +break our line. The five platforms scattered, dipping and wheeling +like frightened birds—blurring shapes, shifting unnaturally in flight +as the Benson curve-angles were altered.</p> + +<p>Anita now took our platform in a long swoop downward. Her tense, +murmured voice sounded in my ears:</p> + +<p>"Hold off: I'll take us low."</p> + +<p>A melee. Passing platform shapes. The darting bolts, crossing like +ancient rapiers. Falling blue points of fuse-lights as we threw our +bombs.</p> + +<p>Down in a swoop. Then rising. Away, and then back. This silent warfare +of lights! It seemed that around me must be bursting a pandemonium of +sound. Yet I heard nothing. Silent, blurred melee, infinitely +frightening. A bolt struck us, clung for an instant; but we weathered +it. The light was blinding. Through my gloves I could feel the tingle +of the over-charged shield as it caught and absorbed the hostile +bombardment. Under me the platform seemed heated. My little Erentz +motors ran with ragged pulse. I got too much oxygen; my head roared +with it. Spots danced before my closed eyes. Then not enough oxygen. I +was dully smothering....</p> + +<p>Then the bolt was gone. I found us soaring upward, horribly tilted. I +shifted over.</p> + +<p>"Anita! Anita, dear!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Gregg. All right."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he melee went on. The brigand ship and all its vicinity was enveloped +in darkness-mist now—a turgid sable curtain, made more dense by the +dissipating heavy fumes of our exploding bombs which settled low over +the ship and the rocks nearby. The search-light from our camp strove +futilely to penetrate the cloud.</p> + +<p>Our platforms were separated. One went by high over us; I saw another +dart close beneath my shield.</p> + +<p>"God, Anita!"</p> + +<p>"Too close! I did not mean that—I didn't see it."</p> + +<p>Almost a collision.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gregg, haven't we broken the ship's dome yet?"</p> + +<p>It seemed not. I had dropped nearly all my bombs. This could not go on +much longer. Had it been only five minutes? Only that? Reason told me +so, yet it seemed an eternity of horror.</p> + +<p>Another swoop. My last bomb. Anita had brought us into position to +fling it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> But I could not. A bolt stabbed up from the gloom and +caught us. We huddled, pulling the shields up and over us.</p> + +<p>Blurred darkness again. Too much to the side now. I had to wait while +Anita swung us back. Then we seemed too high.</p> + +<p>We swooped. But not too low! Down in the darkness-mist we would +immediately have lost direction, and crashed.</p> + +<p>I waited with my last bomb. The other platforms were occasionally +dropping them: I had been too hasty, too prodigal.</p> + +<p>Had we broken the ship's dome with a direct hit? It seemed not.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he brigands were occasionally sending up catapulted light-flares. +They came from positions on the rocks outside the ship. They mounted +in lazy curves and burst over us. The concealing darkness, broken only +by the flares of our explosions, enveloped the enemy. Our camp +search-light was still struggling with it. But overhead, where the few +little platforms were circling and swooping, the flares gave an almost +continuous glare. It was dazzling, blinding. Even through the smoked +pane which I adjusted to my visor I could not stand it.</p> + +<p>But there were thoughts of comparative dimness. In a patch where the +Earthlight struck through the darkness of the rocks, I saw another of +our fallen platforms! Snap and Venza! Dear God....</p> + +<p>It was not they, but three figures of our men. One was dead. Two had +survived the fall. They stood up, staggering. And in that instant, +before the turgid black curtain closed over them, I saw two brigands +come rushing. Their hand projectors stabbed at close range. Our men +crumpled and fell.</p> + +<p>And now I saw why probably we had never yet hit the ship.</p> + +<p>Its outline was revealed. "Now, Gregg—can you fling it from here?"</p> + +<p>We were in position again. I flung my last missile, watched its light +as it dropped. On the dome-roof two of Miko's men were crouching. My +bomb was truly aimed—perhaps one of the few in all our bombardment +which would have landed directly on the dome-roof. But the waiting +marksmen fired at it with short-range heat projectors and exploded it +harmlessly while it was still above them.</p> + +<p>We swung up and away. I saw, high above us, Grantline's platform, +recognizing its red signal light. There seemed a lull. The enemy fire +had died down to only a very occasional bolt. In the confusion of my +whirling impressions I wondered if Miko were in distress? Not that! We +had not hit his ship; perhaps we had done little damage indeed! It was +we who were in distress. Two of our platforms had fallen—two out of +six. Or more, of which I did not know.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> saw one rising off to the side of us. Grantline was over us. Well, +we were at least three. And then I saw the fourth.</p> + +<p>"Grantline is calling us up, Gregg."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Grantline's signal-light was summoning us from the attack. He was a +thousand or two thousand feet above.</p> + +<p>I was suddenly shocked with horror. The search-ray from our camp +abruptly vanished! Anita wheeled us to face the distant ledge. The +camp-lights showed, and over one of the buildings was a distress +light!</p> + +<p>Had the crack in our front wall broken, threatening explosion of all +the buildings? The wild thoughts swept me. But it was not that. I +could see light-stabs from the cliff outside the main building. Miko +had dared to send some of his men to attack our almost abandoned camp!</p> + +<p>Grantline realized it. His red helmet-light semaphored the command to +follow him. His platform soared away, heading for the camp, with the +other two behind him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span></p> + +<p>Anita lifted us to follow. But I checked her.</p> + +<p>"No! Off to the right, across the valley."</p> + +<p>"But Gregg!"</p> + +<p>"Do as I say, Anita."</p> + +<p>She swung us diagonally away from both the camp and the brigand ship. +I prayed that we might not be noticed by the brigands.</p> + +<p>"Anita, listen: I've an idea!"</p> + +<p>The attack on the brigand ship was over. It lay enveloped in the +darkness of the powder-gas cloud and its own darkness bombs. But it +was uninjured.</p> + +<p>Miko had answered us with our own tactics. He had practically unmanned +the ship, no doubt, and had sent his men to our buildings. The fight +had shifted. But I was now without ammunition, save for two or three +small bullet projectors.</p> + +<p>Of what use for our platform to rush back? Miko expected that. His +attack on the camp was undoubtedly made just for that purpose.</p> + +<p>"Anita, if we can get down on the rocks somewhere near the ship, and +creep up on it unobserved in that blackness...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> might be able to open its manual hull-lock, rip it open and let the +air out. If I could get into its pressure chamber and unseal the inner +slide....</p> + +<p>"It would wreck the ship, Anita, exhaust all its air. Shall we try +it?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever you say, Gregg."</p> + +<p>We seemed to be unobserved. We skimmed close to the valley floor, a +mile from the ship. We headed slowly toward it, sailing low over the +rocks.</p> + +<p>Then we landed, left the platform.</p> + +<p>"Let me go first, Anita."</p> + +<p>I held a bullet projector. With slow, cautious leaps, we advanced. +Anita was behind me. I had wanted to leave her with the platform, but +she would not stay. And to be with me seemed at least equally safe.</p> + +<p>The rocks were deserted. I thought there was very little chance that +any of the enemy would lurk here. We clambered over the pitted, +scarred surface. The higher crags, etched with Earthlight, stood like +sentinels in the gloom.</p> + +<p>The brigand ship with its surrounding darkness was not far from us. +Then we entered the cloud.</p> + +<p>No one was out here. We passed the wreckage of broken projectors, and +gruesome, shattered human forms.</p> + +<p>We prowled closer. The hull of the ship loomed ahead of us. All dark.</p> + +<p>We came at last close against the sleek metal hull-side, slid along it +toward where I was sure the manual-porte was located.</p> + +<p>Abruptly I realized that Anita was not behind me! Then I saw her at a +little distance, struggling in the grip of a giant helmeted figure! +The brigand lifted her—turned, and, carrying her, ran the other way!</p> + +<p>I did not dare fire. I bounded after them along the hull-side, around +under the curve of the pointed bow, down along the other side.</p> + +<p>I had mistaken the hull-porte location. It was here. The running, +bounding figure reached it, slid the panel. I was only fifty feet +away—not much more than a single leap. I saw Anita being shoved into +the pressure lock. The Martian flung himself after her.</p> + +<p>I fired at him, but missed. I came with a rush. And as I reached the +porte it slid closed in my face, barring me!</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XXXVII</h4> +<h4><i>In the Pressure Lock.</i></h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>ith puny fists I pounded the panel. A small pane in it was +transparent. Within the lock I could see the blurred figures of Anita +and her captor—and, it seemed, another figure. The lock was some ten +feet square, with a low ceiling. It glowed with a dim tube-light.</p> + +<p>I pounded, thumped with futile, silent blows. The mechanism was here +to open this manual; but it was now clasped from within and would not +operate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span></p> + +<p>A few seconds only, while I stood there in a panic of confusion, +raging to get in. This disaster had come so suddenly! I did not plan; +I had no thought save to batter my way in and rescue Anita. I recall +that I beat on the glassite pane with my bullet projector until the +weapon was bent and useless; and I flung it with a wild, despairing +rage at my feet.</p> + +<p>They were letting the ship's air-pressure into this lock. Soon they +would open the inner panel, step into the secondary chamber—and in a +moment more would be within the ship's hull corridor. Anita, lost to +me!</p> + +<p>The outer panel suddenly opened! I had lunged against it with my +shoulder; the giant figure inside slid it. I was taken by surprise! I +half-fell inward.</p> + +<p>Huge arms went around me. The goggled face of the helmet peered into +mine.</p> + +<p>"So it is you, Haljan! I thought I recognized that little device over +your helmet-bracket. And there is my little Anita, come back to me +again!"</p> + +<p>Miko!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>his was he. His great bloated arms encircling me, bending me +backward, holding me almost helpless. I saw over his shoulder that +Anita was clutched in the grip of another helmeted figure. No giant, +but tall for an Earthman—almost as tall as myself. Then the +tube-light in the room illumined the visor. I saw the face, recognized +it. Moa!</p> + +<p>I gasped, "So—I've—got you, Miko—"</p> + +<p>"Got me! You're a fool to the last, Gregg Haljan! A fool to the last! +But you were always a fool."</p> + +<p>I could scarcely move in his grip. My arms were pinned. As he slowly +bent me backward, I wound my legs around one of his; it was as +unyielding as a steel pillar. He had closed the outer panel; the +air-pressure in the lock was rising. I could feel it against my suit.</p> + +<p>My helmeted head was being forced backward; Miko's left arm held me. +In his gloved right hand as it came slowly up over my throat I saw a +knife-blade, its naked, sharpened metal glistening blue-white in the +light from overhead.</p> + +<p>I seized his wrist. But my puny strength could not hold him. The +knife, against all my efforts, came slowly down.</p> + +<p>A moment of this slow deadly combat—the end of everything for me.</p> + +<p>I was aware of the helmeted figure of Moa casting off Anita—and then +the two girls leaping together upon Miko. It threw him off his +balance, and my hanging weight made him topple forward. He took a step +to recover himself; his hand with the knife was flung up with an +instinctive, involuntary balancing gesture. And as it came swiftly +down again, I forced the knife-blade to graze his throat. Its point +caught in the fabric of his suit.</p> + +<p>His startled oath jangled in my ears. The girls were clawing at him; +we were all four scrambling, swaying. With despairing strength I +twisted at his waist. The knife went into his throat. I plunged it +deeper.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>is suit went flabby. He crumpled over me and fell, knocking me to the +floor. His voice, with the horrible gurgling rasp of death in it, +rattled my ear-grids.</p> + +<p>"Not such a fool—are you, Haljan—"</p> + +<p>Moa's helmeted head was close over us. I saw that she had seized the +knife, jerked it from her brother's throat. She leaped backward, +waving it.</p> + +<p>I twisted from under Miko's inert, lifeless body. As I got to my feet, +Anita flung herself to shield me. Moa was across the lock, backed up +against its wall. The knife in her hand went up. She stood for the +briefest instant regarding Anita and me holding each other. I thought +that she was about to leap upon us; but before I could move, the knife +came down and plunged into her breast. She fell forward, her +gro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>tesque helmet striking the floor-grid almost at my feet.</p> + +<p>"Gregg!"</p> + +<p>"She's dead."</p> + +<p>"No! She moved! Get her helmet off! There's enough air here."</p> + +<p>My helmet pressure-indicator was faintly buzzing to show that a safe +pressure was in the room. I shut off Moa's Erentz motors, unfastened +her helmet, raised it off. We gently turned her body. She lay with +closed eyes, her pallid face blue-cast from the light in the lock.</p> + +<p>With our own helmets off, we knelt over her.</p> + +<p>"Oh. Gregg, is she dead?"</p> + +<p>"No. Not quite—but dying."</p> + +<p>"Oh Gregg, I don't want her to die! She was trying to help you there +at the last."</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes; the film of death was glazing them. But she saw +me, recognized me.</p> + +<p>"Gregg—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Moa, I'm here."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>er livid lips were faintly drawn in a smile. "I'm—so glad—you took +the helmets off, Gregg. I'm—going—you know."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Going—back to Mars—to rest with the fire-makers—where I came from. +I was thinking—maybe you would kiss me, Gregg—?"</p> + +<p>Anita gently pushed me down. I pressed the white, faintly smiling lips +with mine. She sighed, and it ended with a rattle in her throat.</p> + +<p>"Thank you—Gregg—closer—I can't talk so loudly—"</p> + +<p>One of her gloved hands struggled to touch me, but she had no strength +and it fell back. Her words were the faintest of whispers:</p> + +<p>"There was no use living—without your love. But I want you to +see—now—that a Martian girl can—die with a smile—"</p> + +<p>Her eyelids fluttered down: it seemed that she sighed and then was not +breathing. But on her livid face the faint smile still lingered to +show me how a Martian girl could die.</p> + +<p>We had forgotten for the moment where we were. As I glanced up I saw +that through the inner panel, past the secondary lock, the ship's +hull-corridor was visible, and along its length a group of Martians +were advancing! They saw us, and came running.</p> + +<p>"Anita! Look! We've got to get out of here!"</p> + +<p>The secondary lock was open to the corridor. We jammed on our helmets. +The unhelmeted brigands by then were fumbling at the inner panel. I +pulled at the lever of the outer panel. The brigands were hurrying, +thinking they could be in time to stop me. One of the more cautious +fumbled with a helmet.</p> + +<p>"Anita, run! Try and keep your feet."</p> + +<p>I slid the outer panel and pushed at Anita. Simultaneously the +brigands opened the inner porte.</p> + +<p>The air came with a tempestuous rush. A blast through the inner +porte—through the little pressure-lock—a wild rush out to the +airless Moon. All the air in the ship madly rushing to escape....</p> + +<p>Like feathers we were blown with it. I recall an impression of the +hurtling brigand figures and swift-flying rocks under me. A silent +crash as I struck.</p> + +<p>Then soundless, empty blackness.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h4> +<h4><i>Triumph!</i></h4> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p>s he conscious? We'd better take him back, get his helmet off."</p> + +<p>"It's over. We can get back now. Venza, dear, we've won—it's over."</p> + +<p>"He hears us!"</p> + +<p>"Gregg!"</p> + +<p>"He hears us—he's all right!"</p> + +<p>I opened my eyes. I lay on the rocks. Over my helmet other helmets +were peering, and faint, familiar voices mingled with the roaring in +my ears.</p> + +<p>"—back to the camp and get his helmet off."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are his motors smooth? Keep them right, Snap—he must have good air."</p> + +<p>I seemed unhurt. But Anita....</p> + +<p>She was here. "Gregg, dear one!"</p> + +<p>Anita safe! All four of us here on the Earthlit rocks, close outside +the brigand ship.</p> + +<p>"Anita!"</p> + +<p>She held me, lifted me. I was uninjured. I could stand; I staggered up +and stood swaying. The brigand ship, a hundred feet away, loomed dark +and silent, a lifeless bulk, already empty of air, drained in that mad +blast outward. Like the wreck of the <i>Planetara</i>—a dead, pulseless +hulk already.</p> + +<p>We four stood together, triumphant. The battle was over. The brigands +were worsted, almost the last man of them dead or dying. No more than +ten or fifteen had been available for that final assault upon the camp +buildings. Miko's last strategy. I think perhaps he had intended, with +his few remaining men, to take the ship and make away, deserting his +fellows.</p> + +<p>All on the ship, caught unhelmeted by the explosion, were dead long +since.</p> + +<p>I stood listening to Snap's triumphant account. It had not been +difficult for the flying platforms to hunt down the attacking brigands +on the open rocks. We had only lost one more platform.</p> + +<p>Human hearts beat sometimes with very selfish emotions. It was a +triumphant ending for us, and we hardly gave a thought that half of +Grantline's little group had perished.</p> + +<p>We huddled on Snap's platform. It rose, lurching drunkenly, barely +carrying us.</p> + +<p>And as we headed for the Grantline buildings, where still the rift in +the wall had not quite broken, there came the final triumph. Miko had +been aware of it, and knew he had lost. Grantline's search-light +leaped upward, swept the sky, caught its sought-for object—a huge +silver cylinder, bathed brightly in the white search-beam glare.</p> + +<p>The police-ship from Earth!</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XXXIX</h4> +<h4><i>My Exit</i></h4> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div> +<p>y narrative lies now in this permanently recorded form before you, +and I prepare my exit bow with the humble hope that I may have given +you pleasure. If so, I do beg you to tell me of it. There are some who +already have flashed their approval of my discs; I thank them most +earnestly and gratefully.</p> + +<p>My errors of recording unquestionably are many; and for them I ask +your indulgence. There have been, I can readily see, errors of +omission. I have not mentioned, for instance, the final rescue of the +<i>Planetara's</i> marooned passengers on the asteroid. You will bear with +me, since the disc-space has its technical limitations, that such +omissions have been unavoidable.</p> + +<p>Since the passage of the Earth-law by the Federated Board of +Education, forcing narrative fiction to cling so closely to sworn +facts of actual happening, I need offer no assurance of the truth of +my narrative. My witnesses have filed their corroborating +declarations. Indeed, the <i>Planetara's</i> wreck and the brigands' attack +upon the Moon-treasure were given the widest news-casters' publicity, +as you all know. Yet I, who was unwittingly involved in those stirring +events, may have added a more personal note, making the scenes more +vivid to your imagination. I have tried to do that. I do hope that in +some measure you will think I have succeeded.</p> + +<p>There are many foolish girls now who say that they would like to know +Gregg Haljan. They doubtless would be very disappointed. I really +crave no more publicity. And the girls of all the Universe have no +charm for me. There is only one, for me—an Earth-girl.</p> + +<p>I think that life has very beautifully endowed me with its blessings.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_009.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="592" class="img1" /></div> + +<h2><a name="Giants_of_the_Ray" id="Giants_of_the_Ray"></a>Giants of the Ray</h2> + +<h3><i>By Tom Curry</i></h3> +<div class="sidenote">Madly the three raced for their lives up the shaft of the +radium mine, for behind them poured a stream of hideous +monsters—giants of the ray!</div> + +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p> tell you I'm not crazy," insisted the tall man. "Durkin, they got a +big mine."</p> + +<p>Bill Durkin laughed roughly, and sneered openly at his partner, Frank +Maget. "G'wan, you're drunk."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was last night," admitted Maget. "But I'd slept it off this +morning. I was lying under that table in the Portuguee's, and when I +opened my eyes, there were these three birds sitting near me. They +hadn't spotted me. I heard 'em talking of wealth, how their mine was +of unbelievable richness and greater than any other deposit in the +world. Well, that means something, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Durkin. "But whoever saw a cricket fifteen +inches long?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><span class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><img src="images/image_010.jpg" alt="Its form was that of a gigantic frog, and from its +throat sounded the terrific bellowing which rivaled thunder." width="600" height="640" class="img1" /></span><span class="caption">Its form was that of a gigantic frog, and from its +throat sounded the terrific bellowing which rivaled thunder.</span></div> + +<p>"Listen. There were three of these guys. One was a hell of a looking +fellow: his face was piebald, with purple spots. His skin was bleached +and withered, and one eye looked like a pearl collar button! They +called him Professor, too, Professor Gurlone. Well, he takes out this +damn cricket thing and it was sort of reddish purple but alive, and as +long as your forearm. This professor guy says his son had taken an +ordinary cricket and made it grow into the one he had. But the mine +was what interested me. I kept my mouth shut and my ears open, and +it's in the Matto Grosso. May be emeralds, diamonds, or gold. Boy, I'm +heading for it, right now. The old guy's going back to-morrow, get +me?"</p> + +<p>"It's a lot of bunk," growled Durkin, who was stout and red of +countenance.</p> + +<p>"Yeh? Well, Otto Ulrich don't put fifty thousand into bunk."</p> + +<p>Durkin whistled. "You mean the German loosened up that much?" he +asked, and his eyes showed interest.</p> + +<p>"Sure. He paid this Gurlone fifty thousand dollars—credit, of +course."</p> + +<p>"Well—maybe there's something in the mine story. But boy, you were +drunk when you saw that cricket. No cricket ever grew that big. You +always see things when you get too much rum in you."</p> + +<p>"The hell you say," cried Maget. "I saw it, I tell you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div> +<p>urkin feigned elaborate politeness. "Oh, all right, Frank. Have it +your own way. You saw a cricket that big and this Gurlone feller took +a couple of pink elephants out of his pocket to pay the check. Sure, I +believe you."</p> + +<p>But money never failed to attract the two tropical tramps. They were +looking for trouble, not work, and the idea of a raid on a rich mine +in the Matto Grosso was just what they would enjoy.</p> + +<p>An hour later, they had cornered a small, inoffensive peon named Juan. +Juan, Maget and Durkin had discovered, had come out of the wilderness +with Professor Gurlone, the strange looking gentleman who spoke of a +fabulously wealthy mine and commanded checks for fifty thousand +dollars from a reputable banking firm. Such a man was worth watching.</p> + +<p>The two rascals were expert at pumping the little half-breed. They +knew peons, and the first thing that happened was that Durkin had +slipped Juan several dollars and had pressed a large glass of whiskey +on the little man.</p> + +<p>The conversation was in broken English and Spanish.</p> + +<p>"Quien sabe?"</p> + +<p>Durkin and Maget had this phrase flung at them often during the course +of the talk with Juan, and there were many elaborate shrugs.</p> + +<p>There was a mine, way back in the Matto Grosso, said Juan. He thought +it might contain silver: there had been the shaft of an old mine +there. But now they were deep down in the ground, digging out reddish +brown ore, and the cavern smoked and smelled so badly a man could work +but an hour or two before being relieved. But the pay was very high. +Also, Juan, in his rambling way, spoke of grotesque animals. What were +these creatures like? asked Durkin. Then came a shrug, and Juan said +they were like nothing else on earth.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div> +<p>urkin discounted the part of the story having to do with the strange +animals. He thought it was peon superstition. But now he was sure +there was a rich mine to be raided.</p> + +<p>"It's a tough part of the Grosso," he said, turning to Maget.</p> + +<p>"Sure. Hard to carry enough water and supplies to make it. Say, Juan, +who was that big Portuguee with Professor Gurlone? He's blind, ain't +he? His eyes were white as milk, and his face tanned black as river +mud. Surely is a great big guy, and tough looking, too."</p> + +<p>Durkin drummed on the table, considering the matter, while Juan spoke +of the big Portuguese. The swarthy man with the colorless blind eyes +was Espinosa, former owner of the mine. He had sold part of his claim +to the Gurlones, but had remained with them as an assistant. Though +blind, he knew the depths of the mine and could feel his way about, +and direct the peons in their labors.</p> + +<p>"I've got it," said Durkin, turning back to Juan and Maget. "Juan, +it's up to you. You've got to blaze the trail so we can follow you in. +And you can steal food and cache it for use on the way, see? We'll +come along a day or so after the Gurlones."</p> + +<p>It took some persuading to make Juan consent to their plot, but the +peon yielded at last to money and the promise of part of the spoils. +"Maybe you can steal Gurlone's samples and they'll give us a line on +what he's up to out there. Whether it's emeralds or diamonds or gold +that they're taking out of the mine."</p> + +<p>Juan was stupid and superstitious, like most of his fellows. He had +obeyed orders, digging out the red ore, and that was all he knew. But +prompted by the two tramps, he was ready for trouble, too.</p> + +<p>Juan told them that Professor Gurlone carried a small lead case which +he seemed to prize greatly.</p> + +<p>"Get it, then," ordered Durkin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two tramps saw Gurlone's party start on the morrow. There were +many cases of supplies loaded into launches, some marked Glass, Acids, +and so on. Then there were boxes of food and various things needed in +a jungle camp.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>uan, their tool, was working with the other peons, and at ten o'clock +in the morning the launches set out, pushing into the current of the +Madeira.</p> + +<p>Old Gurlone, of the livid face, was in charge of one boat, and the +gigantic Portuguese, with his colorless eyes and burned complexion, +sat beside him.</p> + +<p>That night, the two tropical tramps stole a small boat with a +one-cylinder motor, and started up the river.</p> + +<p>It was a hard journey, but they were used to river and jungle work, +and the object they had in view was enough to make them discount +trouble. They speculated upon what manner of treasure it was they +would find in the cavern of the Matto Grosso mine. It might be +precious stones, it might be gold. Certainly it was something very +valuable.</p> + +<p>They carried little supplies, but they were heavily armed. For food, +they might hunt and also depend on the caches left by their friend, +Juan the peon.</p> + +<p>Three hundred miles from Manaos, they came to the landing where old +Gurlone had unloaded his boats. The two tramps drew their own craft up +on shore a quarter of a mile away, keeping out of sight, and hid the +boat in dense brush. Then they crept up the river bank, keeping out of +sight of the boatmen, who were preparing for the return voyage, and +cut into the jungle so as to strike the trail of the caravan ahead.</p> + +<p>For several hours they followed the path easily. They found palm trees +blazed with new marks, and these they were sure their friend Juan had +left for them. But the trail was easy to keep without these. The +supplies had been loaded on burros, which had been awaiting the +boats.</p> + +<p>That night, they camped beside a small stream. They were but +twenty-four hours behind Professor Gurlone and his party, and the food +Juan had cached for them was in good condition.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>hey were up at daybreak, and pressed on, armed to the teeth and ready +for a fight.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Durkin, stopping so suddenly that Maget ran into +him.</p> + +<p>They had been walking at a swift pace along the jungle path, the giant +trees forming a canopy overhead. Monkeys screamed at them, birds +flitted a hundred feet above them in the roof of the forest.</p> + +<p>The sun beat on the jungle top, but few rays lightened the gloom +beneath.</p> + +<p>From up ahead sounded a frightful scream, followed by a long drawn out +wailing. Maget glanced at Durkin, and the latter shrugged, and pressed +on. But he gripped his rifle tightly, for the cries were eery.</p> + +<p>From time to time the two stopped to catch better the direction of the +wails. At last, they located the spot where the injured person lay.</p> + +<p>It was under a great bombax tree, and on the shaded ground writhed a +man. The two stopped, horrified at the squirming figure. The man was +tearing at his face with his nails, and his countenance was bloody +with long scratches.</p> + +<p>He cursed and moaned in Spanish, and Durkin, approaching closer, +recognized Juan the peon.</p> + +<p>"Hey, Juan, what the hell's the matter? A snake bite you?"</p> + +<p>The bronzed face of the sturdy little peon writhed in agony. He +screamed in answer, he could not talk coherently. He mumbled, he +groaned, but they could not catch his words.</p> + +<p>At his side lay a small lead container, and closer, as though he had +dropped it after extracting it from its case, lay a tube some six +inches in length. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span> was a queer tube, for it seemed to be filled +with smoky, pallid worms of light that writhed even as Juan writhed.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble?" asked Durkin gruffly, for he was alarmed at the +behavior of the peon. It seemed to both tramps that the man must have +gone mad.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>hey kept back from him, with ready guns. Juan shrieked, and it +sounded as though he said he was burning up, in a great fire.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the peon staggered to his feet; as he pushed himself up, his +hands gripped the tube, and he clawed at his face.</p> + +<p>Perplexity and horror were writ on the faces of the two tramps. Maget +was struck with pity for the unfortunate peon, who seemed to be +suffering the tortures of the damned. He was not a bad man, was Maget, +but rather a weakling who had a run of bad luck and was under the +thumb of Durkin, a really hard character. Durkin, while astounded at +the actions of Juan, showed no pity.</p> + +<p>Maget stepped forward, to try and comfort Juan; the peon struck out at +him, and whirled around. But a few yards away was the bank of the +stream, and Juan crashed into a black palm set with spines, caromed +off it, and fell face downward into the water. The glass tube was +smashed and the pieces fell into the stream.</p> + +<p>"God, he must be blind," groaned Maget. "Poor guy, I've got to save +him."</p> + +<p>"The hell with him," growled Durkin. He grasped his partner's arm and +stared curiously down at the dying peon.</p> + +<p>"Let go, I'll pull him out," said Maget, trying to wrench away from +Durkin.</p> + +<p>"He's done for. Why worry about a peon?" said Durkin. "Look at those +fish!"</p> + +<p>The muddy waters of the stream had parted, and dead fish were rising +about the body of Juan. But not about the dying man so much as close +to the spot where the broken tube had fallen. White bellies up, the +fish died as though by magic.</p> + +<p>"Let's—let's get the hell back to Manoas, Bill," said Maget in a +sickly voice. "This—this is too much for me."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p> nameless fear, which had been with Maget ever since the beginning of +the venture, was growing more insistent.</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Durkin. "Turn back now? The hell you say! That damn peon +got into a fight with somebody and maybe got bit by a snake later. +We'll go on and get that treasure."</p> + +<p>"But—but what made those fish come up that way?" said Maget, his +brows creased in perplexity.</p> + +<p>Durkin shrugged. "What's the difference? We're O. K., ain't we?"</p> + +<p>In spite of the stout man's bravado, it was evident that he, too, was +disturbed at the strange happenings. He kept voicing aloud the +question in his mind; what was in the queer tube?</p> + +<p>But he forced Maget to go on. Without Juan, the peon, to leave them +caches of food on the trail, they would have a difficult time getting +provender, but both were trained jungle travelers and could find fruit +and shoot enough game to keep them going.</p> + +<p>Day after day they marched on, not far from the rear of the party +before them. They took care to keep off Gurlone's heels, for they did +not wish their presence to be discovered.</p> + +<p>When they had been on the journey, which led them east, for four days, +the two rascals came to a waterless plateau, which stretched before +them in dry perspective. Before they came to the end of this, they +knew what real thirst was, and their tongues were black in their +mouths before they caught the curling smoke of fires in the valley +where they knew the mine must be.</p> + +<p>"That's the mine," gasped Durkin, pointing to the smoke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he sun was setting in golden splendor at their backs; they crept +forward, using great boulders and piles of reddish earth, strange to +them, for cover. Finally they reached the trail which led to the hills +overlooking the valley, and a panorama spread before them which amazed +them because of its elaborateness.</p> + +<p>It seemed more like a stage scene than a wilderness picture. Straight +ahead of them, as they lay flat on their stomachs and peered at the +big camp, yawned the black mouth of a large cavern. This, they were +sure, was the mine itself. Close by this mouth stood a stone hut. It +was clear that this building had something to do with the ore, perhaps +a refining plant, Durkin suggested.</p> + +<p>There were long barracks for the peons, inside a barbed wire +enclosure, and they could see the little men lounging now about +campfires, where frying food was being prepared. Also, there was a +long, low building with many windows in it, and houses for supplies +and for the use of the owners of the camp.</p> + +<p>"Looks like they were ready in case of a fight," said Durkin at last. +"That fence around the peons looks like they might be havin' trouble."</p> + +<p>"Some camp," breathed Maget.</p> + +<p>"We got to find somethin' to drink," said Durkin. "Come on."</p> + +<p>They worked their way about the rim of the valley, and in doing so +caught glimpses of Professor Gurlone, the elderly man they had spotted +in Manaos, and also saw the big Portuguese with his sightless eyes.</p> + +<p>At the other side of the valley, they came on a spring which flowed to +the east and disappeared under ground farther down.</p> + +<p>"Funny water, ain't it?" said Durkin, lying down on his stomach to +suck up the milky water.</p> + +<p>But they were not in any mood to be particular about the fluids they +drank. The long dry march across the arid lands separating the camp +from the rest of the world had taken all moisture from their throats.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div> +<p>aget, drinking beside his partner, saw that the water glinted and +sparkled, though the sun was below the opposite rim of the valley. It +seemed that greenish, silvery specks danced in the milky fluid.</p> + +<p>"Boy, that's good," Durkin finally found time to say, "I feel like I +could fight a wildcat."</p> + +<p>The water did, indeed, impart a feeling of exhilaration to the two +tramps. They crept up close to the roof of the parallel shaft which +they had seen from the other side of the valley, and looked down into +the camp again.</p> + +<p>Professor Gurlone of the livid face and Espinosa the blind Portuguese, +were talking to a big man whose golden beard shone in the last rays of +the sun.</p> + +<p>"That's the old bird's son," said Durkin, "that Juan told us about. +Young Gurlone."</p> + +<p>A rumbling, pleasant laugh floated on the breeze, issuing from the big +youth's throat. The wind was their way, now, and the valley breathed +forth an unpleasant odor of chemicals and tainted meat.</p> + +<p>"Funny place," said Maget. "Say, I got a hell of a headache, Bill."</p> + +<p>"So've I," grunted Durkin. "Maybe that water ain't as good as it +seemed at first."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>hey lay in a small hollow, watching the activity of the camp. The +peons were in their pen, and it was evident that they were being +watched by the owners of the camp.</p> + +<p>As purple twilight fell across the strange land, the two tramps began +to notice the dull sounds which came to their ears from time to time.</p> + +<p>"That's funny thunder," said Maget nervously. "If I didn't know it was +thunder, I'd swear some big frogs were around here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell. Maybe it's an earthquake," said Durkin irritatedly. "For +God's sake, quit your bellyachin'. You've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span> done nothin' but whine ever +since we left Juan."</p> + +<p>"Well, who could blame me—" began Maget. He broke off suddenly, the +pique in his voice turned to a quiver of fear, as he grasped Durkin's +arm. "Oh, look," he gasped.</p> + +<p>Durkin, seeing his partner's eyes staring at a point directly behind +him, leaped up and scrambled away, thinking that a snake must be about +to strike him.</p> + +<p>He turned round when he felt he was far enough away, and saw that the +ground was moving near the spot where he had been lying.</p> + +<p>The earth was heaving, as though ploughed by a giant share; a blunt, +purplish head, which seemed too fearful to be really alive, showed +through the broken ground, and a worm began to draw its purple length +from the depths. It was no snake, but a gigantic angleworm, and as it +came forth, foot after foot, the two watched with glazed eyes.</p> + +<p>Maget swallowed. "I've seen 'em two feet long," he said. "But never +like that."</p> + +<p>Durkin, however, when he realized that the loathsome creature could +not see them and was creeping blindly towards them with its ugly, fat +body creasing and elongating, picked up rocks and began to destroy the +monstrous worm. He cursed as he worked.</p> + +<p>Dull red blood spattered them, and a fetid odor from the gashes caused +them to retch, but they finally cut the thing in two, and then they +moved away from there.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he dull rumblings beneath them frightened Maget, and Durkin too, +though the latter tried to brazen it out.</p> + +<p>"Come on, it's gettin' dark. We can take a look in their mine now."</p> + +<p>Maget, whimpering, followed. The booming sounds were increasing.</p> + +<p>But Durkin slipped down the hillside, and Maget followed into the +valley. They crept past the stone shack, which they noticed was +padlocked heavily.</p> + +<p>Durkin stopped suddenly, and cursed. "I've cut my foot," he said. +"These damn shoes are gone, all right, from that march. But come on, +never mind."</p> + +<p>They crept to the mouth of the cavern and peered in. "Ugh," said +Maget.</p> + +<p>He drew back with a shudder. The floor of the mine was covered with a +grey slush, in which were seething white masses of slugs weaving in +the slime. A powerful, rotten odor breathed in their faces, as though +they stood in the mouth of a great giant.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" yelled Durkin, throwing his arms across his face.</p> + +<p>The greenish, ghostly light which emanated from the slime was weaker +than moonlight, just enough to see by; a vast shadow hovered above +their heads, as though a gigantic bat flew there. The sweep and beat +of great wings drove them back, and they fled in terror from such +awful corruption.</p> + +<p>But the flying monster, with a wing spread of eight feet, dashed past +them, and silhouetted against the rising moon like a goblin. Then came +another, and finally a flock of the big birds.</p> + +<p>Durkin and Maget ran away, passing the stone house which stood near +the cavern's mouth. The booming sounds from the bowels of the earth +filled their ears now, and it was not thunder; no, it issued from the +depths of the mine.</p> + +<p>"We—we got to get somethin' to eat," said Durkin, as they paused near +one of the shacks, in which shone a light.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>ounds of voices came from the interior. They crept closer, and +listened outside the window. Inside, they could see Espinosa, Gurlone +senior, and the big youth with the golden beard, Gurlone junior.</p> + +<p>"Yes, father," the young man was saying. "I believe we had better +leave, at once. It's getting dangerous. I've reached the five million +mark now, with the new process, and it is ready to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span> work with or sell, +just as we wish."</p> + +<p>"Hear that?" whispered Durkin triumphantly. "Five million!"</p> + +<p>"It's all ready, in the stone house," said young Gurlone.</p> + +<p>"Why should we leave now?" said old Gurlone, his livid face working. +"Now, when we are just at the point of success in our great +experiments? So far, while we have struck many creatures of abnormal +growth, still, we have overcome them."</p> + +<p>"Well, father, there is something in the mine now which makes it too +dangerous to work. That is, until they are put out of the way. You can +hear them now."</p> + +<p>The three inside the shack listened, and so did Durkin and Maget. The +booming sounds swelled louder and the earth of the valley shook.</p> + +<p>"I t'ink we better go," said Espinosa gruffly. "I agree with your son, +Professor."</p> + +<p>"No, no. We can conquer this, what ever it is."</p> + +<p>"You see, father, while you were away, we broke through into a natural +cavern, an underground river. It was then that the trouble started. +You know the effect of the stuff on the insects and birds. It enlarged +a cricket one hundred times. You saw that yourself. Six of the peons +have disappeared—they didn't run away, either. They went down the +shaft and never came back."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they probably fell into the water and drowned," said old Gurlone +impatiently. "Even if they did not, we can kill anything with these +large bore rifles."</p> + +<p>"We'd better pull out and let it alone for a while," said young +Gurlone gravely. "The peons have been trying to bolt for several days. +They'd be gone now if I hadn't penned them in and electrified the +fence."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div> +<p>aget put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm starving," he +whispered.</p> + +<p>Durkin nodded, and they turned away, toward what they had marked as a +supply shack. They heard a low murmur from the peons' pen, as they +began to break off the hasps of the lock which held the door of the +storehouse.</p> + +<p>They got inside with little trouble, and began to feel about in the +dark for food. They located biscuits and canned goods which they split +open, and these they wolfed hungrily, listening carefully for sounds +from outside.</p> + +<p>"Here they come," said Maget, gripping Durkin's arm.</p> + +<p>They looked out the window of the supply shack, and saw old Gurlone +issue from the building outside which the two tramps had been +listening. In one hand, the old Professor, brave as a lion, carried an +old fashioned double-barreled elephant gun, and the rays from a +powerful electric torch shone across the barrel.</p> + +<p>At least, they thought the bizarre figure was old Gurlone, from the +size. For the man was clad in a black, shiny suit, and over his head +was a flapping hood of the same material in which were large eyeholes +of green glass. Behind this strange form came a larger one, armed also +with a big bore rifle and with another powerful flashlight.</p> + +<p>The blind Portuguese was armed, too, but he was not clad in the black +suit. He took his stand beside the mouth of the cavern, and waited +while the two Gurlones entered the mine.</p> + +<p>"My foot hurts," said Durkin suddenly, breaking the silence.</p> + +<p>"I'm going out and see what happens," said Maget.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div> +<p>urkin limped after Maget, who now took the lead. They crept close as +possible to the mine opening, and saw the big Portuguese standing +there in silence, listening carefully. Any sounds the two might have +made were drowned in the great bellowing from within the cavern.</p> + +<p>These noises, so like the croak of bullfrogs but magnified a thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span> +times, were terrifying to the heart.</p> + +<p>The sweep of wings sounded on the night air, and Espinosa drew back +and squatted close to the ground, as immense green creatures, flying +on dusty wings, issued from the mine.</p> + +<p>"God, those are moths," breathed Maget.</p> + +<p>Yes, unmistakably, they were moths, as large as condors. The green +ones, but for their size, were lunar moths, familiar enough to the two +tramps. More bats came, disturbed by the entrance of the two Gurlones.</p> + +<p>Durkin broke, then. "I'm—I'm—I guess you're right, Maget," he +whispered, in a terrified voice. "We should have never come. If my +foot wasn't hurt, I'd start for the river now. Curse it, what a +place!"</p> + +<p>The booming, vast croaks filled the whole valley, reverberating +through the hills. Wails sounded from the peon camp.</p> + +<p>The big Portuguese was shouting to the Gurlones. "Come out, come out!"</p> + +<p>Maget gripped his own rifle, and stood up, bravely. His fear, though +it was great, seemed to have brought out the better side of the man, +while Durkin, so brave at first, had cracked under the strain.</p> + +<p>"Look out, they'll see you," whimpered Durkin.</p> + +<p>Maget strode forward. A blast of fetid, stinking air struck his face, +and he choked. The noises were now ear-splitting, but above the +bellows came the sounds of the big rifles, the echoes booming through +the recesses of the cavern.</p> + +<p>Then the two Gurlones, running madly, burst from the mine entrance.</p> + +<p>"Run," they screamed. "Run for your life, Espinosa!"</p> + +<p>"I'll help you," cried Maget, and Durkin could detain him no longer.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he Gurlones hardly noticed the newcomer, as they ran madly towards +the shelter of their houses. Espinosa joined them, going swiftly in +spite of his blind eyes.</p> + +<p>The croaking made Maget's brain scream with the immensity of the +sound. Luminous, white disks, three feet in diameter, glared at him, +and the creature, which progressed with jerky leaps toward him, almost +filled the mouth of the mine.</p> + +<p>It was hot in pursuit of the fleeing Gurlones. It squatted and then +jumped, and presently it was out in the night air.</p> + +<p>Its form was that of a gigantic frog, but it stood some twenty feet in +height, and from its throat sounded the terrific bellowing which +rivalled the thunder.</p> + +<p>Maget bravely stepped forward, and began to fire into the huge, soft +body. The great mouth opened, and as the dum-dum bullets tore gashes +in the blackish green batrachian, the thunderous croaks took on a note +of pain.</p> + +<p>The odor of the creature was horrible. Maget could scarcely draw his +breath as he fired the contents of the magazine into the big animal. +Two more jumps brought the frog almost to Maget's feet, and the +tropical tramp felt a whiskerlike tentacle touch his face, and bad +smelling slime covered him.</p> + +<p>The frog was blind, without doubt, from its underground life, but the +tentacles seemed to be the way it finally located its prey, for it +turned on Maget and made a final snap at him. The great jaws closed +like the flap of hell, and Maget leaped back with a cry of triumphant +terror.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he bullets had finally stopped the big frog, but at its heels came a +strange, jellylike creature, not quite as bulky as the frog, but +pushing along on its legs and with a tail some eight feet thick and +fifteen feet in length. This, too, evidently a polywog, was blind, +with whitened discs for eyes, but it slid along at a rapid rate +because of its size. Maget's gun was empty; he turned so flee, but the +polywog stopped and sniffed at the thick blood of its fellow. Then, to +Maget's relief, it be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span>gan to hungrily devour its companion.</p> + +<p>Utterly filthy, and ferocious, the polywog in silence snapped great +chunks from the dead giant frog.</p> + +<p>"Hello. Who are you?"</p> + +<p>Maget turned, having forgotten the amenities of life in the +excitement. Professor Gurlone and his son, still clad in their black +suits, but with their helmets off, were standing beside him, clutching +their guns and lights.</p> + +<p>The big Portuguese, Espinosa, appeared, and Durkin was beside him.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Maget, between gasps, "we just happened to be out +exploring, and we saw your camp. We were on our way in when we heard +the noises and came to investigate."</p> + +<p>"I see," said old Gurlone. "What made you head in this direction, and +where's your outfit?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we cached most of it back there," said Maget. "My partner's hurt +his foot, so he can't walk well. Isn't that so, Durkin?"</p> + +<p>"Yeh," growled Durkin. "I got a sore foot, all right."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ld Gurlone was suspicious of the vague story which Maget and Durkin +concocted as the explanation of their presence in the valley. But +evidently the Professor was too worried about the situation in which +he and his friends were, to question the two tramps very closely. In +fact, he seemed rather glad that he had two more pairs of hands to aid +him and he thanked Maget for his bravery.</p> + +<p>They dispatched the great polywog as it tore its parent to bits, and +then the five men, the two Gurlones, Espinoza, Maget, and the limping, +cursing Durkin, retired to one of the shacks.</p> + +<p>The living quarters of the Gurlones was quite elaborate. There were +many books on rough shelves, and there was a small bench filled with +glass phials and chemicals, though the main laboratory was in one of +the long buildings.</p> + +<p>Professor Gurlone poured drinks for the five, and welcomed Durkin and +Maget as allies.</p> + +<p>"We'll need every man we can get, if we are to cope with these great +creatures," said old Gurlone. "The peons are too frightened to be of +use. Luckily, it was a frog we came upon on the banks of the +subterranean river. There is no telling how many more creatures of the +same or greater size may be down there. We will have to destroy them, +every one."</p> + +<p>Maget and Durkin shuddered. "Say," blurted Durkin, his face working +nervously, "how the hell did that frog get so big? I thought I was +seein' things, Professor."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Professor Gurlone. "You see, the ore in the mine +contains radium, that is, salts of radium. It is a pitchblende +deposit, and it happens to be so rich in radium content that +throughout the ages it has affected all the life in the cavern. The +arid land surrounding the ore—this has been, generally, one of the +characteristics of radium deposits—has kept most of the jungle +creatures away, but underground beings such as reptiles, worms and +frogs, have gradually become immune to the effects of the ore and have +grown prodigiously and abnormally under the stimulation of the rays +given off by the radium.</p> + +<p>"Now, this is nothing strange in itself, but never before has such a +rich deposit been discovered, so that the amounts of radium available +have been too small to really check its effect on growth in animals. +That is our chief scientific object in coming here: we realized, from +Senor Espinosa's description of the played-out silver mine he had, and +from his loss of sight, that he had stumbled upon a valuable deposit +of radium. It usually occurs with silver, that is, the uranium mother +ore does, through the disintegration of which radium is formed. The +content of radium per ton in this ore proved unbelievably rich: we +were delighted. I have always suspected that the animal cell might be +stimulated into abnormal growth by exposure to radium salts, for such +a thing already has been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span> hinted at in the scientific world. Not till +our chance came here, however, has enough radium been available for +the experiments."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div> +<p>aget and Durkin listened with open mouths. Radium meant but vague +things to them. They had heard of radium paint which shone in the dark +on the dials of watches and clothes, but of the properties of the +metal and its salts they were utterly ignorant.</p> + +<p>"That radium stuff is what makes the funny light in that mine, then?" +asked Maget.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. The radio-activity of the elements in the ore give off the +light. There are three rays, the alpha, beta and gamma, and—"</p> + +<p>The professor forgot himself in a lecture on the properties of radium.</p> + +<p>Durkin, breaking in, asked, slyly. "Is this radium worth as much as +silver?"</p> + +<p>Young Kenneth Gurlone laughed, and even old Professor Gurlone smiled. +"Radium is worth more than gold or diamonds or platinum. Its value is +fabulous. We have five million dollars worth already, in the form of +the chloride."</p> + +<p>"Whew," whistled Durkin.</p> + +<p>He glanced sidewise at Maget.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Professor Gurlone, "five million dollars worth of it! +Those great monsters who have been developed throughout the ages by +the action of the radium rays on their bodies, causing them to grow so +prodigiously, are but incidents. We must destroy them, so that our +work cannot be interfered with. We must use dynamite, blow them to +bits. They are powerful enough to crush the stone bank by the mine +mouth and ruin the labors of the past two years, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>Armed, and once more fortified with whiskey, the five made their way +outside. The moon was darkened by an immense shadow, as one of the +giant bats winged its way over their heads. But there were no more +monster frogs. The ugly, bulky shapes of the dead polywog and its +parent lay before them.</p> + +<p>"We are safe for the moment," said Professor Gurlone. "Go and quiet +the peons, Espinosa: they will listen to you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he peons still wailed in terror; the blind Espinosa slipped silently +away.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Professor Gurlone, to his son and to Maget and Durkin. "I +will show you the laboratory, so that you can understand better the +effects of radium on growth."</p> + +<p>The professor led them to the long, low, many-windowed building +nearby, and flooded it with light. It contained cage after cage in +which were monkeys, pumas, and various jungle folk. These creatures +set up a chattering and howling at the light and intruders.</p> + +<p>Maget glanced curiously about him. He saw shining vials and glassware +of queer shapes on long black tables, and tubes of chemicals. There +were immense screens of dull lead. "Those are for protection," said +Professor Gurlone, "as are the lead-cloth suits we wear. Otherwise we +would be burned by radium rays."</p> + +<p>Maget looked about, to see if his partner was listening, but he had +gone away.</p> + +<p>However, Maget was intensely interested. He went from cage to cage as +Professor Gurlone, rather in the manner of a man giving a lecture to +students, pointed out animal after animal that had been treated by the +radium.</p> + +<p>"This," said the professor, "is a monkey which usually attains a +height of two feet. You can see for yourself that it is now larger +than a gorilla."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he horrible, malformed creature bared its teeth and shook its bars in +rage, but it was weak, evidently, from the treatment accorded it. Its +hair was burned off in spots, and its eyes were almost white.</p> + +<p>There was a jaguar, and this beast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span> seemed to have burst its skin in +its effort to grow as large as three of its kind.</p> + +<p>"You see, we have not so much time as nature," said Professor Gurlone. +"These beasts cannot be enlarged too rapidly, or they would die. They +must be protected from the direct rays of the radium, which is +refined. In the ore, the action is more gradual and gentle, since it +is less concentrated. But the metal itself would burn the vital organs +out of these creatures, cause them to be struck blind, shrivel them up +inside and kill them in a few minutes in the quantity we have. We +expose them bit by bit, allowing more and more time as they begin to +grow immune to the rays. Here, you see, are smaller creatures which +have grown some eight or ten times beyond normal size."</p> + +<p>All the animals seemed the worse for wear. Maget, his brain reeling, +yet was beginning to grasp what radium did to one. It was not gold +that you could pick up and carry away.</p> + +<p>"If a man touched that radium," he asked, "what would happen to him?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I said would happen to the animals if we did not give it to +them gradually," said Gurlone, with a wave of his hand. "It would kill +him, strike him down as though by invisible poison gas. His heart and +lungs would cease to function, pernicious anemia would set in, as the +red corpuscles in his blood perished by millions. He would be struck +blind, fall down and die in agony."</p> + +<p>To Maget came the picture of the unfortunate Juan. As though answering +his unasked question, Professor Gurlone went on. "We had a peon coming +up with us," he said. "His name was Juan. He stole my sample-case, +which contained an ounce of radium chloride, and ran off with it. If +he opens it, it will kill him in just that way."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div> +<p>aget shivered. "But—but didn't it hurt you to carry it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No. For it was incased in a lead container some two inches in +thickness, and the rays cannot penetrate such a depth of lead. They +are trapped in the metal."</p> + +<p>"Father, father, you're wasting time," broke in Kenneth Gurlone, +shaking his yellow head. "We must act at once. The peons are almost +mad with fear. Even Espinosa cannot quiet them. And every moment is +precious, for the monsters may break forth."</p> + +<p>But Maget was looking nervously about for Durkin. Where was he? Durkin +had his mind on the treasure, and—</p> + +<p>As they turned toward the door, the professor saying. "The rays from +the ore, which is not so concentrated as the purified metal, do not +kill—" Durkin suddenly appeared.</p> + +<p>He carried his rifle at his hip, and he limped and cursed angrily. +"Come across," shouted Durkin. "Give me the key to that stone house. +Snap into it, and no argument."</p> + +<p>"The key—to the stone bank?" repeated old Gurlone.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'll give you five counts to throw it over—then I'll shoot you +and take it," snarled Durkin savagely. "I want that treasure, whatever +it is, and I'll have it. One ... two ... three...." The tramp sent a +shot over their heads as a warning.</p> + +<p>"Hey, Bill, easy, easy," pleaded Maget. "That stuff is radium. It'll +ruin you, boy!"</p> + +<p>"Shut up, you yeller-bellied bum," snarled Durkin. "Four...."</p> + +<p>A tinkle of metal came on the stone floor of the laboratory, as old +Gurlone tossed his keys to Durkin.</p> + +<p>"Don't go in that shack," cried young Gurlone. "It'll be your death, +man—"</p> + +<p>"Liars," yelled Durkin, and backed out the door.</p> + +<p>"H'm," said old Gurlone, turning to Maget. "So you came to rob us, +eh?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ut Maget thought of Juan, and then he knew he did not want Durkin, in +spite of his failings, to per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>ish so. He ran for the door, and across +the clearing.</p> + +<p>"Durkin—Bill—wait, it's Frank—"</p> + +<p>Great bellowings sounded from the bowels of the earth, but Maget +ignored these in his effort to save his partner. Durkin had the +padlock off the stone shack, and pulled back the door.</p> + +<p>As the door disclosed the interior, Maget could see that a greenish +haze filled the entire building. Wan liquid light streamed forth like +heavy fluid.</p> + +<p>Bravely, to save his pal from death, Maget ran forward. But Durkin had +entered the stone shack.</p> + +<p>Maget went to the very door of the building. Durkin was inside, and +Maget could see his partner's thick form as a black object in the +strange, thick air.</p> + +<p>An eery scream came suddenly from Durkin's lips; Maget wrung his hands +and called for help.</p> + +<p>"Come out, Bill, come out," he cried.</p> + +<p>Durkin evidently tried to obey, for he turned toward the door. But his +knees seemed to give way beneath him, he threw his arm across his eyes +as he sank to the ground, crying in agony, incoherent sounds issuing +from his lips.</p> + +<p>Shriek after shriek the unfortunate man uttered. As Maget made a dash +forward to take a chance with death and rescue his friend, Professor +Gurlone and his son Kenneth ran up and threw a black cloak over the +tramp.</p> + +<p>The three entered the shack of death. Maget, not entirely covered, +felt his heart give a terrific jump, and he gasped for breath. Durkin +was quivering on the floor which was lined with lead.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ound vials stood about the room like a battery of search-lights, and +from these emanated the deadly green haze.</p> + +<p>But almost before Maget touched his pal, Durkin was dead. Curled up as +though sewed together by heavy cords. Durkin lay in a ball, a shaking +mass of burned flesh.</p> + +<p>The two Gurlones pushed out ahead of them, and raised their hands. +They had on their black suits and their helmets.</p> + +<p>"It is too late to do anything for him now," said Kenneth Gurlone +sadly. "He was headstrong. You can see for yourself that the five +million dollars takes care of itself. Certain death goes with it if +you are unprotected. These lead-cloth suits will keep off the rays for +a short time. We always wear them when we are working with the metal, +even when we have a lead screen."</p> + +<p>"Poor Bill," sobbed Maget. "It's terrible!"</p> + +<p>Professor Gurlone shrugged. "It was his own fault. He was a thief and +he would not let us stop him. I hope it's been a lesson to you, +Maget."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I want to help you," said Maget. "If you'll keep me with you, +I'll work for you and be straight. Give me a chance."</p> + +<p>"Good. Then shake hands on it," said Kenneth, and they clasped hands +firmly.</p> + +<p>Espinosa appeared from the darkness. "The peons are mad with terror," +he said morosely. "They cannot be held much longer. They will revolt."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must kill the creatures in the cavern: that will quiet them +more than anything else," said Professor Gurlone.</p> + +<p>"Better close the stone shack," said Kenneth.</p> + +<p>But as he spoke, a vast shape, another giant frog, appeared in the +entrance of the shaft.</p> + +<p>"Get some dynamite and fuses," ordered Professor Gurlone quietly. +"Come on Kenneth, and you, Maget, if you care to risk your life. You +need not do so unless you wish to."</p> + +<p>Bravely, the older man led the way towards the croaking monster. The +ground shook at its approach. It was heading for the bodies of the +dead frog and polywog, bent on a search for food. Evidently these vast +creatures were forced to prey upon one another for sustenance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he rifles spoke, and Maget and the professor, in their black suits, +protected by the lead-cloth and helmets from the rays, advanced. They +poured bullet after bullet into the frog.</p> + +<p>Kenneth came running to join them, and Espinosa stood by. Kenneth had +dynamite bombs with fuses ready for lighting and throwing. He also +brought more ammunition, and the three armed themselves to the teeth.</p> + +<p>It was well after midnight when they started into the mine. They knew +they must act quickly or retreat, for the bellowing sounded nearer and +nearer the surface of the earth.</p> + +<p>Each man carried big, powerful flashlights, and the three entered the +mine shaft and walked across the seething slugs into the bowels of the +earth.</p> + +<p>"Stay close together," ordered old Gurlone.</p> + +<p>The mine was easy to descend for the first hundred yards. It led in a +gentle slope downward. The way, save for a few giant bats and moths, +and the big maggots, was clear. The greenish haze, not so bright as +that in the death shack, enveloped them, but they needed their flashes +to see clearly.</p> + +<p>"Slowly, take it easy," counseled old Gurlone.</p> + +<p>The mine spread out now, and began a steeper descent. The air was +poor, and it was hard to breathe through the mask. Maget, his heart +thumping mightily, listened to the roaring within the depths of the +mine.</p> + +<p>Now the ground seemed to drop away before them. Maget could hear the +running of water, the underground river, and every now and then there +came an immense splash, as if some great whale had thrown itself about +in the water.</p> + +<p>A terrifically loud hissing filled their ears, and suddenly, before +them, showed an utterly white snake with a head as big as a barrel. +Its white eyes glared sightlessly, but its tongue stuck forth for +several feet.</p> + +<p>Kenneth Gurlone coolly tossed a lighted bomb at the creature: the +explosion shattered their ear-drums, but it also smashed the serpent.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he writhing, wriggling coils, bigger than the body of a horse, +slashed about, dangerously near. They picked themselves up, and pushed +on, keeping close to the right wall.</p> + +<p>A great bat smashed against Maget, and knocked the light out of his +hand, but the blow was a glancing one, and he was able to retrieve his +light and hurry on.</p> + +<p>They were far from the entrance now. The hole which had been broken +through by the peons showed before them, and they could see milky +water dashing over black rocks.</p> + +<p>Pallid eyes looked at them, and they knew they gazed upon another of +the giant frogs. They tossed a bomb at the creature, and blew a jagged +hole in his back. No sooner had he begun to die than there came a +sudden rush of other monsters and a feast began.</p> + +<p>"Throw, all together," yelled Kenneth Gurlone.</p> + +<p>Into the vast mass of creatures, who crowded one another in the river +for their share of the spoils, they threw bomb after bomb. The +dynamite deafened them, and acrid fumes choked them, but they fired +their rifles at the prodigious animals and there, in the big river +cavern, was a seething mass of horrible life, dying in agony.</p> + +<p>The bellowings and hissings sounded louder, so loud that the earth +shook as if actuated by a mighty earthquake.</p> + +<p>Maget gripped Kenneth Gurlone's arm. "My bombs are gone," he shouted.</p> + +<p>He had but a few rounds of ammunition left, and still more of the +giant reptiles appeared. A centipede with its creeping, horrible legs +topped the mass of squirming matter; they could see the terrific sting +of the creature, so deadly when but a fraction of an inch long, and +which was now at least a foot, armed with poison.</p> + +<p>There came the rush of more bats and moths, a rush that threw the +three men off their feet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We must have opened the hole more with our bombs," shrieked old +Gurlone. "The dead bodies attract the other creatures, more and more +of them are coming. It is impossible; we cannot deal with them all."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he vast gobbling of the great animals in the river below them was so +prodigious they could not grasp it. It seemed it must be optical +illusion. In a few moments, the dead had been eaten, swallowed whole, +and fights were progressing between the victors.</p> + +<p>They tossed the rest of their bombs, fired the remaining ammunition, +and as they prepared to retreat, several of the big creatures slopped +over and started up the river bank into the mine shaft.</p> + +<p>They ran for their lives, the three. Madly, with the earth shaking +behind them as they were pursued by a hopping monster of a beetle with +immense mandibles reaching out at them, they dashed for the open air.</p> + +<p>Giant moths and bats struck at them, and Maget fell down several times +before he reached the outside, and he was bruised and out of breath.</p> + +<p>"Come on, there are too many to fight," gasped old Gurlone, throwing +off the lead suit.</p> + +<p>But there was no need to talk. The creatures, disturbed by the bombs, +had collected in one spot and, shown the way out by one of their +number, were coming.</p> + +<p>Espinosa, with Kenneth Gurlone holding his hand, ran swiftly for the +hills surrounding the valley. Maget helped old Professor Gurlone, who +was so out of breath that he could scarcely move.</p> + +<p>The great beetle which had been pursuing them was the first to break +forth into the valley. Turning back for a look over his shoulder, +Maget saw the thing pause, but the cavern belched forth a vast array +of monsters, the beasts roaring, hissing, bellowing, in an increasing +mass of sound.</p> + +<p>They swarmed over the ground, and giant bats and moths winged their +way about the heads of the monsters.</p> + +<p>At the rim of the valley, the four men paused.</p> + +<p>"God help the peons," said Kenneth Gurlone.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div> +<p>ow the horde of monsters swelled more and more; the bats and moths +winged in mad frenzy about the open door of the radium shack. There +were great beetles, centipedes, ants, crickets, hopping, crawling +things, and grotesquely immense in size. Fights progressed here and +there, but the majority of them were carried along in the sweep of the +multitude.</p> + +<p>"See, the radium kills those who get too close," said Professor +Gurlone, in a hushed voice.</p> + +<p>The giant moths and bats were unable to withstand the lure of the +green light. They flew with mad beatings of wings straight for the +open door of the death house, and many of the great creatures, +attracted by the light and urged on by an unexplainable force which +sent them to death like gnats and moths in a flame, crowded near to +the death-dealing radium.</p> + +<p>Not until the whole shack was covered with quivering forms of the +dead, did the other creatures veer off and with hops, creepings and +myriad giant legs, begin to cover the whole valley.</p> + +<p>The stone walls of the death shack had crumpled in with the weight; +the other buildings, more lightly built, gave at once, with crackings +and crashings.</p> + +<p>The four men were powerless to assist the unfortunate peons, who were +trapped in their barracks. The charged wires stopped many of the big +beasts, but soon the electric light was short-circuited, and the +valley, in the moonlight, was a seething mass of fighting, dying, +feasting monsters.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ther sounds, besides those made by the big creatures, came to the +ears of the stricken men on the hillside. The breaking of glass, the +cries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span> of the jungle animals trapped in their cages, the shrieks of +dying peons who were eaten at a gulp by the big frogs or stung to +death, impaled on the mandibles of some great stinging centipede.</p> + +<p>In the spot where the radium death shack had been, was a pulpy mass of +livid, smoky light.</p> + +<p>Now the bowl of the valley was filled as by some vast jelly. The +creatures were slopping over the walls, and battling together.</p> + +<p>The shambles was not yet over, but the four could remain no longer. +They made their way down the hillside and struck out across the arid +lands.</p> + +<p>Maget, the tramp, became the leader. He was a trained jungle man, and +it was he who finally brought them safely to the Madeira.</p> + +<p>He was their strong man, the one who found the trail and located roots +and fruit for the party to subsist on. They nearly perished in the +trip for lack of water, but again, Maget was able to supply them with +roots which kept them from dying in agony.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>hey lay upon the river bank now, exhausted but alive. Maget had +assisted old Gurlone, acted as his staff, half carried him the last +miles of the trip.</p> + +<p>Their clothes were almost gone, they were burned to crisps by the +tropic sun. Flies and other insects had taken their toll. But Maget +had brought them through.</p> + +<p>The tall, thin fellow's hair had turned utterly white. But so had his +soul.</p> + +<p>"You're a good man, Maget," said Professor Gurlone. "You have saved +us, and you have been brave as a lion."</p> + +<p>Maget shook his head. "Professor," he said. "I came into the jungle to +rob you. Durkin and I bribed Juan to steal that radium, and I feel +responsible for his death. We thought you had diamonds or gold in the +Matto Grosso, and we were after it. That's why I am here."</p> + +<p>"You have repaid your debt to us, more than fully," said Kenneth, +holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Espinosa.</p> + +<p>"Will you keep me with you, then?" asked Maget anxiously. "Are—will +you go back there?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div> +<p>rofessor Gurlone stared at him, and then said, in a surprised tone, +"Why, of course!"</p> + +<p>"But the monsters?" asked Maget.</p> + +<p>"Many of them will die in the outer air," said Gurlone. "The survivors +of the battles will start eating the dead. They will finally clear +away the debris of dead creatures about the radium shack. As each is +exposed to the rays of the concentrated metal, it will die. The others +will eat it, and be killed in turn. Thus, they will be destroyed. If +there are any survivors after this evident turn of events, then we +will cope with them when we return, reinforced. Dynamite, enough of +it, will finish them off. And, Maget, in your next pursuit after +knowledge of strange things, you may get a few earthly riches. The +radium is still there, and you will share in it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Maget humbly. "I'm with you to the end."</p> + +<p>"You must keep quiet about this," cautioned Kenneth Gurlone. "We do +not want the world to know too much of our vast store of radium. It +would attract adventurers and we would be annoyed by ignorant men. But +we're thankful you lay drunk in that saloon when my father spoke of +the millions, Maget."</p> + +<p>In Manzos, Maget found himself a changed man. To his surprise, in +spite of his white hair, brought on by the horror of what he had seen, +he found that he had gained two inches in height, and that he was +larger of girth. This, Professor Gurlone told him, was the effect of +the radium rays.</p> + +<p>Never again did Maget lie drunk on the floor of a saloon. The events +through which he had gone had seared the tramp's soul, and he kept +close to his new master, Professor Gurlone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span></p> + +<div> +<img class="figright" src="images/image_011_01.jpg" width="600" height="497" alt="He laughed loudly and contemptuously." /> +<img class="figright" src="images/image_011_02.jpg" width="122" height="117" alt="He laughed loudly and contemptuously." /> +</div> + +<p class="f1"><a name="The_Moon_Master" id="The_Moon_Master"></a>The Moon Master</p> + +<p class="f2"><i>By Charles W. Diffin</i></p> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_n1.jpg" alt="N" width="63" height="58" /></div> +<p>ow that's a mighty queer noise." Jerry Foster told himself. He +dropped the pack from his shoulders and leaned closer to the canyon +rim.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Through infinite deeps of space Jerry Foster hurtles to the +Moon—only to be trapped by a barbaric race and offered as a living +sacrifice to Oong, their loathsome, hypnotic god.</div> + +<p>Miles behind him was the last beaten trail: Jerry wanted peace and +solitude and quiet. And now the quiet of the silent mountains was +disturbed.</p> + +<p>From far below came a steady, muffled roar. Faint it was, and distant, +but peculiar in its unvarying, unceasing rush.</p> + +<p>"Not water," Jerry concluded; "not enough down there. Sounds +like—like a wind—like a wind that can't quit.</p> + +<p>"Oh well—" He shrugged his shoulders and slipped into the straps of +his pack. Then he went back again to the granite ledge. "I wonder if +there's a way down," he said.</p> + +<p>There was, but it took all of Jerry's strength to see him safely +through. On a fan-shaped talus of spreading boulders he stopped. There +was a limestone wall beyond. And at its base, from a crevice that was +almost a cave, came a furious rush of air and steam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_012.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="701" class="img1" /></div> + +<p>It touched him lightly a hundred feet away, and he threw himself flat +to escape the hot blast. Endlessly it came, with its soft, rushing +roar, a ceaseless, scorching blast from the cold rocks.</p> + +<p>"That's almighty funny," mused Foster, and sniffed the air. There was +no odor.</p> + +<p>"And is it hot!" he said. "Nothing like that in my geology book. And +what is beyond? Looks like concrete work, as if someone had plastered +up the cave." He picked his way quickly across the rock slope.</p> + +<p>It was hard going. Below him the rocks and dirt went steep to the +canyon floor. At its foot the blast swept diagonally over the slope. +He must see what lay beyond....</p> + +<p>"Curious," he thought; "curious if that is nature's work—and a lot +more so if it isn't."</p> + +<p>A rock rolled beneath his feet. Another! He scrambled and fought +desperately for foothold in the slipping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> earth. Then, rolling and +clawing, he rode helpless on the slide straight toward the mysterious +blast. He felt it envelop him, hot and strangling. His lungs were dry +and burning ... the blazing sun faded from the rocks ... the world was +dark....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div> +<p>arkness was still about him when he awoke. But it was cool; the air +was sweet on his lips. And it was not entirely dark.</p> + +<p>He turned his head. He was in a room. On a rough-hewn table a candle +was burning. Its light cast flickering shadows on walls of stone. +Rumbling in his ears was the sound of the blast that had overwhelmed +him. It echoed, seemingly, from far back in the stone cliff.</p> + +<p>Jerry made a move to sit up. He found that his hands and feet were +tied, his body bound to the rough board bed.</p> + +<p>At the sound of his stirring, a figure came out from the farther +shadow. It was that of a man. Jerry looked at him in silence. He was +tall, his thin erectness making him seem abnormal in the low room. The +lean face was unshaven, and from under a thatch of black hair a pair +of deep-set eyes stared penetratingly at the figure on the rude bed.</p> + +<p>"Well," asked Jerry, at length, "what's the big idea?"</p> + +<p>There was no reply. Only the intent, staring eyes.</p> + +<p>"You got me out of that man-trap of yours," Jerry continued. "You +saved my life."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he tall man finally spoke. "Yes, I saved your life. You missed the +hottest part of the exhaust. I pumped you full of oxygen."</p> + +<p>"Then why tie me up like this?" Jerry Foster was frankly puzzled.</p> + +<p>"You are lucky to be alive. Spies are not always allowed—" He +interrupted himself abruptly. "You are a reporter," he stated.</p> + +<p>"Wrong," said Jerry Foster.</p> + +<p>"Who sent you?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody sent me. I heard the noise of your infernal blast-furnace and +came down to have a look."</p> + +<p>"Who sent you?" repeated the man. "Goodwin? The Stillwater crowd? Who +was it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you are talking about," protested Jerry. "I don't +know who your Goodwin or Stillwater people are. I don't know who you +are—I don't give a damn. Take these ropes off and cut out the +melodrama. I'll go on my way, and I don't care if I never see you +again."</p> + +<p>"That's a lie." The tall figure leaned over to shake a bony fist. +"You'd report to Goodwin. He stole my last invention. He'll not get +this."</p> + +<p>Jerry considered the wild figure carefully. "He's a nut," he thought. +When he spoke, his voice was controlled.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here," he said: "I don't know anything about this. I'm Jerry +Foster, live in San Francisco—"</p> + +<p>"So does Goodwin."</p> + +<p>"Confound you and your Goodwin! So do a million other people live +there! I'm getting away from there; I'm heading into the hills for a +short vacation. All I want is to get away from the world. I'm looking +for a little peace and quiet."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he thin man interrupted with a harsh laugh.</p> + +<p>"Come here spying," he said, "and tell me you want to get away from +the world." Again he laughed shrilly.</p> + +<p>"And I am going to be your little fairy godmother. I wish you were +Goodwin himself! I wish I had him here. But you'll get your +wish—you'll get your wish. You'll leave the world, you shall, +indeed."</p> + +<p>He rocked back and forth with appreciation of his humor.</p> + +<p>"Didn't know I was all ready to leave, did you? All packed and ready +to go. Supplies all stowed away; enough energy stored to carry me +millions of miles. Or maybe you did know—may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>be there are others +coming...." He hurried across the room to open a heavy door of split +logs in the rock wall.</p> + +<p>"I'll fool them all this time," he said; "and you'll never go back to +tell them." The door closed behind him.</p> + +<p>"Crazy as a bed-bug," Jerry told himself. He strained frantically at +the ropes that bound him. "Looks bad for me: the old bird said I'd +never go back. Well, what if I die now ... or six months from now? +Though I know that doctor was wrong."</p> + +<p>He tried to accept his fate philosophically, but the will to live was +strong. And one of his wrists felt looser in its bonds.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>cross the room his pack lay on the floor, and in it was a heavy +forty-five. If he could get the pistol.... A knot pulled loose under +his twisting fingers. One hand was free. He worked feverishly at the +other wrist.</p> + +<p>The ropes were suddenly loose. He pulled himself to his feet, took a +moment to regain control of cramped muscles, then flung himself at the +pack. When the heavy door opened he was behind it, his pistol in his +hand.</p> + +<p>There was no struggle: the lanky figure showed no maniacal fury. +Instead, the man did a surprising thing. He sank weakly upon the rough +bunk where Jerry had lain, his face buried in his thin hands.</p> + +<p>"I should have let you die," he said slowly, hopelessly. "I should +have let you die. But I couldn't do that.... And now you'll steal my +invention for Goodwin."</p> + +<p>Jerry was as exasperated as he was amazed.</p> + +<p>"I told you," he almost shouted. "I never knew anyone named Goodwin! I +don't care a hoot about your invention. And as for letting me die—why +didn't you? That's a puzzle: you were about to kill me, anyway."</p> + +<p>"No," said the other patiently. "I wasn't going to kill you."</p> + +<p>"You said I'd never go back."</p> + +<p>"I was going to take you with me."</p> + +<p>"Take me where?"</p> + +<p>"To the moon," said the drooping figure.</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster stared, open-mouthed. The pistol lagged in his limp hand. +"To the moon!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>Then: "See here," he said firmly. "I've got you where I want you."—he +held the pistol steady—"and now I'm going to learn what's back of +this. I think you are crazy, absolutely crazy. But, tell me, who are +you? What do you think you're doing? What was the meaning of that +roaring blast?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he man looked up. "You don't know?" he asked eagerly. "You really +don't?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jerry; "but I'm going to find out."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the other agreed. "Yes, you can, now that you've got the +upper-hand. I guess I was half crazy when I thought I had been spied +out. But I'll tell you."</p> + +<p>He sat erect. "I am Thomas J. Winslow," he said, and made the +statement as if it were an explanation in itself.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Jerry, "that's no burst of illumination to my ignorance. +Come again."</p> + +<p>The man called Winslow was ready—anxious—to talk.</p> + +<p>"I am an inventor. I have made millions of dollars"—Jerry looked at +the disheveled apparel of the speaker and smiled—"for other people. +The Stillwater syndicate stole my valveless motor. Then I developed my +television set. Goodwin beat me out of that: he will have it on the +market inside of a year. I swore they should never profit by this, my +greatest invention."</p> + +<p>Jerry was impressed in spite of himself by the man's earnest +simplicity.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I've broken the atom," said Winslow. "First tore the atoms of +hydrogen and oxygen apart—dissociated them in the molecule of +water—and have resolved them into their energy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> components. That's +what you heard—the reaction. It it self-sustaining, exothermic. That +hot blast carried off the heat of my retort."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>inslow rose from the bunk. Gone was his listless despondency.</p> + +<p>"Put up that gun," he said: "you don't need it now. I think we +understand each other better than we did." He crossed with quick +strides to the door leading into the cliff.</p> + +<p>"Come with me," he told Foster. "I am leaving to-day. You will not +stop me. But before I go I will show you something no other man than +myself has ever seen."</p> + +<p>He led the way through the doorway. There was another room beyond, +Jerry saw. It was a cave. Plainly Winslow had taken these caves in the +rocks and had made of them a laboratory.</p> + +<p>A lantern gave scant illumination: Jerry made out a small electric +generator, and that was all. He felt a keen disappointment. Somehow +this thin-faced man had communicated to him something of his own +belief, his own earnestness.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a laboratory do you call this?" he demanded. But the +other was busy.</p> + +<p>In the wall an opening had been closed with a small iron door, with +cement around it. Winslow opened it and reached through. He was +evidently adjusting something.</p> + +<p>The little dynamo began to hum. There was a crackling hiss from beyond +the iron doorway. The opening was flooded with a clear blue light.</p> + +<p>Then the roar began. It was tremendous, deafening, in the echoing +cave.</p> + +<p>"You may look now," said Winslow, and stood aside.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>erry peered through. There was another cave beyond. In it was a small +metal cylinder, a retort of some kind. The blue light came from a +crooked bulb beyond. The retort itself was white-hot, despite a +stream of water flowing upon it. A cloud of steam drove continuously +out and up through a crevice in the rocks.</p> + +<p>The water flowed steadily from some subterranean stream in the +limestone formation. It was diverted for its cooling purposes, but a +portion also flowed continuously into the retort. Jerry's eyes found +this, and he could see nothing else. For, before his eyes, the +impossible was occurring.</p> + +<p>The retort was small, a couple of feet in diameter. It had no +discharge pipes, could hold but a few gallons. Yet into it, in a +steady stream, flowed the icy water. Gallons, hundreds of gallons, +flowing and flowing, endlessly, into a reservoir which could never +hold it.</p> + +<p>The inventor watched Foster with complacent satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Where does it go?" Jerry asked incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Into nothingness," was the reply. "Or nearly that!"</p> + +<p>"See?" He held up a flask of pale green liquid. "And this," he added, +exhibiting another that was colorless.</p> + +<p>"I have worked here for many months. I have converted thousands of +thousands of gallons of water. It has flowed into that retort, never +to return. I have gathered this, the product, a few drops at a time.</p> + +<p>"The protons and the electrons," he explained, "are re-formed. They +are static now, unmoving. Call this what you will—energy or +matter—they are one and the same."</p> + +<p>"Still," said Jerry, gropingly, "what has all that to do with the +moon? You said you were going there."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_y1.jpg" alt="Y" width="62" height="58" /></div> +<p>es," agreed the inventor. I am going, and this is the driving force +to carry me there. I pass a certain electric current through these two +liquids. I carry the wires to two heavy electrodes. Between them +resolution of matter occurs. The current carries these two components +to again combine them and form what we call mat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>ter, the gases +hydrogen and oxygen.</p> + +<p>"Do I need to tell you of the constant, ceaseless and tremendous +explosion that follows?</p> + +<p>"But enough of this! You said I was crazy. I gave you a few bad hours. +I have shown you this much as a measure of recompense. You have seen +what no other man has ever seen. It is enough."</p> + +<p>He motioned Foster through the door. The roaring ceased. The inventor +returned shortly, the two flasks of liquid in his hands. He +transferred both to two metal containers that were ready for the +precious load. He carried them with the utmost care as he went out of +doors.</p> + +<p>Once he returned, and Jerry knew by the crashes from the inner room +that the laboratory work was indeed done. There would be nothing left +to tell the secret to whomever might come.</p> + +<p>He followed Winslow outside, trailing him toward a wooded knoll. There +was a clearing among the trees. And in it, hidden from all sides, his +eyes found another curious sight.</p> + +<p>On the ground rested a dirigible in miniature. Still, it was small, he +reasoned, only by comparison with its monster prototype: actually it +was a sizable cylinder of aluminum that shone brightly in the sun. It +was bluntly rounded at the ends. There were heavy windows, open +exhaust ports, a door in the side, pierced through thick walls. +Winslow vanished within, while Jerry watched in pitying wonder.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div> +<p>espite its size, it was a toy, an absurd and pitiful toy. Real genius +and lunacy had many an over-lapping line, Jerry reflected as he +approached to look inside. But he found Winslow in a room surrounded +by a network of curving, latticed struts. The machine was no makeshift +of a demented builder: it was a beautiful bit of construction that +Jerry Foster examined.</p> + +<p>"How did you ever get it here?" he marveled. "What you had in the +cave you could pack in, but this—all these parts—castings—cases of +supplies—"</p> + +<p>The inventor did not even turn. He was busy with some final +adjustments.</p> + +<p>"Flew it in," he said shortly. "Built it in an old shop I owned out +near Oakland."</p> + +<p>"And it flew?" Jerry was still incredulous.</p> + +<p>"Certainly it flew! On a drop or less of the liquids you saw." He +pointed to a heavy casting at the center of the machine. There were +braces tying it strongly to the entire structure, braces designed to +receive and transmit a tremendous thrust.</p> + +<p>"This is the generator. Blast expelled through the big exhaust at the +stern. These smaller exhausts go above and below—right and left at +the bow. Perfect control!"</p> + +<p>"And you flew it here!" Jerry was still trying to grasp that +incontrovertible fact. "And you were going to take me to the moon, you +said."</p> + +<p>He looked above him where a pale, silvery segment showed dimly in the +sky. "But why the moon?" he questioned. "Even granting that this will +fly through space...."</p> + +<p>"It will," the other interrupted. "I tried it. Went up to better than +fifty miles."</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster took a minute to grasp that statement, then continued: +"Granting that, why go to the moon? There is nothing there, no air to +speak of, no water! It's all known."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he inventor turned to face the younger man in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"There is <i>nothing</i> known," he stated. "The modern telescopes reach +out a million light years into space. But the one place they have +never seen—can never see—is less than two hundred and fifty thousand +miles away. The moon, as of course you know, always keeps the same +side toward us. The other side of the moon has never been seen.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said, and his deep-set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span> eyes were afire with an intense +emotion. "The moon is no tiny satellite; it is a sister planet. It is +whirled on the end of a rope (we call it gravitation), swung around +and around the earth. How could there be water or anything fluid on +this side? It is all thrown to the other side by the centrifugal +force. Who knows what life is there? No one—no one! I am going to +find out."</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster was silent. He was thinking hard. He looked about him at +the clean hills, the trees, the world he knew. And he was weighing the +secure life he knew against a great adventure.</p> + +<p>He took one long breath of the clear air as one who looks his last at +a familiar scene. He exhaled slowly. But he stepped firmly into the +machine.</p> + +<p>"Winslow," he said, "have you any rope handy?"</p> + +<p>The inventor was annoyed. "Why, yes, I guess so. Why? What do you want +of it?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to tie me up again," said Jerry Foster. "I want you to +carry me off as you planned. I want to go with you."</p> + +<p>The tall man stared at the quiet, determined face before him. Slowly +his own strained features smoothed into kindly lines. He grasped tight +at Jerry's hand.</p> + +<p>"I was dreading that part of it," he confessed slowly: "going alone. +It would have been lonely—out there...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he shining cylinder of aluminum alloy was hurtling through space. No +longer was it a ship of the air; it had thrown itself far beyond that +thin gaseous envelope surrounding the earth; out into the black and +empty depths that lay beyond. And in it were two men, each reacting in +his own way to an adventure incredible. One was deep in the +computation of astronomical data; the other athrill with a quivering, +nerve-shaking joy that was almost breath-taking.</p> + +<p>A metal grating that had formed the rear wall of their cabin was now +the floor. Winslow had thrown the ship into a vertical climb that made +of their machine a projectile shooting straight out from the earth. +Gravitation held them now to the grating floor. And, stronger even +than the earth-pull, was the constant acceleration of motion that made +their weight doubled again and again.</p> + +<p>The inventor moved ponderously, with leaden limbs, to take sights from +the windows above, to consult his maps of the sky, check and re-check +his figures. But Jerry had eyes only for the earth they had left.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div> +<p>lat on the grating he lay, his eyes over a thick glass in a +proturbance of the shell that allowed him to stare and stare at what +lay directly below. He watched the familiar things of earth vanish in +fleecy clouds; through them there formed the great ball, where oceans +and continents drew slowly into focus.</p> + +<p>And now he was filled with a sense of great solitude. The world, in +its old, familiar companionship, was gone—probably forever. The +earth—<i>his</i> earth—<i>his</i> world—that place of vast distances on land +and on sea, of lofty mountain ranges and heaving oceans, of cities, +countries, continents—was become but a toy. A plaything from the +nursery of some baby god, hanging so quiet in space he could almost +reach and take it in his hands.</p> + +<p>Beyond it the sun was blaring, a hard outlined disc in the black sky. +Its rays made shining brilliance of a polar ice-cap.</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster closed his eyes and drew back from the glass. Again he +was aware of the generator, whose endless roar reverberated in their +compartment. A smaller but similar apparatus was operating on one of +the liquids from the inventor's laboratory to generate oxygen and +release it inside the room. An escape valve had been set to maintain +one atmosphere of pressure about them. Water dripped from a con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span>denser +where both gases were formed to burn into water vapor and cool to +liquid form.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ne of the windows below admitted a shaft of direct sunlight; it +illumined their room with a faint glow. It would never cease, Jerry +knew. They were in a place of eternal sunshine, yet a realm of an +endless night. Above him, as Jerry raised his head, the windows framed +nothing but utter blackness, save where some brilliant point marked +the presence of a star. He missed the soft diffusion of light that +makes daylight on earth. Here was only the one straight beam that +entered one window to make a circle of light on the opposite wall.</p> + +<p>Jerry looked from a window of heavy glass at the side. This had been +the bottom of their ship when they left. And he found in the heavens +the object of their quest. Clear-cut and golden was half the circle; +the rest glowed faintly in the airless void. He tried to realize the +bewildering fact—the moon, this great globe that he saw, was rushing, +as were they, to their trysting-place in space.</p> + +<p>Jerry stared until his eyes were aching. His mind refused to take hold +upon the truth he knew was true. He was suddenly tired, heavy with +weariness that was an aftermath of his emotional turmoil. He let his +heavy body relax where some blankets had piled themselves upon the +grated floor. The roar of the generator faded into far silence as he +slipped into that strange spaceless realm that men call sleep.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he human mind is marvelous in its power of adjustment, its +adaptability to the new and the strange. The unbelievable is so soon +the commonplace. Jerry Foster was to sleep more than once in this tiny +new world of Winslow's creating, this diminutive meteor, inside which +they lived and moved and thought and talked. The fact of their new +existence soon ceased as a topic of wonder.</p> + +<p>They alternated in their rest. And they counted the passage of time by +the hours their watches marked, then divided these hours into days out +there where there were no days. Seven of them had passed when the hour +came that Winslow chose for checking their speed.</p> + +<p>They were driving directly toward the moon, which was assuming +proportions like those of earth. The pilot admitted a portion of the +blast to a bow port, and the globe ahead of them gradually swung off. +The pilot was reversing their position in space to bring the powerful +blast of their stern exhaust toward the moon, so as to resist somewhat +its increasing pull.</p> + +<p>Now their stern windows showed the approaching globe. It was slowly +expanding. They were falling toward it. The inventor moved a rheostat, +and from behind them the stern blast rose to a tremendous roar. The +deceleration held them with unbearable weight to the rear of the +cabin.</p> + +<p>No thought now for the shining earth, yellow and brilliant in the +velvet sky above. Jerry Foster watched through the slow hours as the +globe beneath them enlarged and expanded in ever-increasing slowness. +Slowly their falling motion slackened as they cushioned against the +terrific thrust of the exhaust below.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he globe ceased to grow and held constant. Winslow cut the exhaust to +a gentler blast. They were definitely within the moon's gravitational +field; their last hold upon the earth was severed. The great globe was +revolving beneath them.</p> + +<p>"How about it?" Foster asked breathlessly. "It doesn't revolve like +that—not the moon!"</p> + +<p>"We have approached from the earth side," said the other, "but we have +overshot it. Say that the moon is revolving, or say that we are +swinging about it in an orbit of our own—it is all the same thing."</p> + +<p>"And soon," he added slowly, "we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span> shall see...." He faltered and his +lips trembled and refused to frame the words of a dream that was +coming true. "We shall see ... the lost side of the moon. What will it +be ... what—will—it—be...?"</p> + +<p>To Foster the whole experience had now the unreality of a dream. He +could not bring himself into mental focus. His thoughts were blurred, +his emotions dead.</p> + +<p>They were approaching the moon, he told himself. It was the moon that +was there below them, slowly enlarging now, as their own earth had +hung below them, but dwindling, when they left.</p> + +<p>"The moon!" he told himself over and over. "The moon—it is real!" But +the numbness in his brain would not be shaken off.</p> + +<p>His voice, when he spoke, was casual. He might have been speaking of +any commonplace—a ball-game, or a good show.</p> + +<p>"The sun is coming from my right," he said. "We are going around +toward the dark side of the moon. Shall you land there?"</p> + +<p>Winslow shook his head. "Wait," he said, "and watch."</p> + +<p>Jerry returned to his circle of glass.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>here was a shading of light on the surface below him. From the right +the sun's brilliance threw black shadows and bright beams transversely +over a wilderness of volcanic waste. And beyond, where the rays could +not reach, was a greater desolation of darkness, its blackness +relieved only by a dim light. He realized with a start of amazement +that the dim light he saw was that of their own earth far above: it +was lighting their approach to this sister orb.</p> + +<p>Their side-motion was swift as they drew nearer. Another hour and +more, and they were drawing toward an expanse of utter darkness. The +earth-light was fading where they passed. They were approaching, in +very fact, the other side of the moon.</p> + +<p>What was below? What mysteries awaited them? He shivered, despite the +warmth of the generator, cherry-red, that heated the snug cabin; +shivered with unformed thoughts of unknown terrors. But he forced his +voice to calm steadiness when he repeated his question to Winslow.</p> + +<p>"Must we land there?" he asked. "In the dark?"</p> + +<p>The inventor was piloting his ship with ceaseless concentration. Their +falling speed was checked; they were close enough so that the +whistling of air was heard merging with the thunder of their exhaust. +He moved the rheostat under his hand, and the thunder slackened.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "You are forgetting your astronomy. This 'other side' +is subject to the same conditions as the near side. The sun shines on +them alike, but alternately. We are rounding the limb away from the +sun. We find, as you see, a darkness that is absolute except for the +light of the stars. Here the earth never shines, and the sun only +during the lunar day. But the sun is creeping down this other side. +Their day, equal to fifteen of our days, is beginning. We shall come +into the light again. I am checking our motion across the surface. We +shall land, when it seems best, later on. There will be light."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he thin strong hands of the pilot played over the current and valve +controls. Their ship slowly swung and dipped to a horizontal position. +A blast from below held them off from the moon. A bow port was roaring +as their speed slowly decreased.</p> + +<p>Minutes merged endlessly into long hours as Jerry's eager eyes +strained to detect some definite form on the surface beneath. Dimly a +glow appeared far ahead; slowly the darkness faded. They were moving +ahead, but their wild speed was checked. And slowly the new earth +below took on outline and form as the sun's glow crept over it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span></p> + +<p>What would the light disclose? His mind held irrationally to thoughts +his reason would have condemned. He found himself watching for people, +for houses, lights gleaming from windows. This, in a region of cold +that approached the absolute zero. The reality came as a shock.</p> + +<p>The first rays that crept into vision were silvery fingers of light. +They reflected up to the heights in glittering brilliance. They +gathered and merged as the ship drove on toward the sunrise, and they +showed to the watching eyes a wondrous, a marvelous world. A world +that was snowbound, weighted and blanketed with a mantle of white.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>o Jerry the truth came as a crushing, a horrible blow. He turned +slowly to look at his companion; to look and be startled anew by the +happiness depicted on the lean face.</p> + +<p>"I knew it," the pilot was saying. "I always knew it. But +now—now...." He was speechless with joy.</p> + +<p>"It's terrible!" said Foster. He almost resented the other's elation. +"It's a hell! Just a frozen hell of desolation."</p> + +<p>"Man—man!" was the response, "can't you see? Look! The whiteness we +see is snow, a snow of carbon dioxide. The cold is beyond guessing. +But the clear places—the vast fields—it's ice, man, it's ice!"</p> + +<p>"Horrible!" Jerry shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful," said the other. "Marvellous! Think, think what that +means. It means water in the hot lunar day. It means vapor and clouds +in the sky. It means that where that is there is air—life, perhaps. +God alone knows all that it means. And we, too, shall know...."</p> + +<p>The ship settled slowly to the surface of the new world. Black blobs +of shadow become distinct craters; volcanoes rose slowly to meet them, +to drift aside and rise above as they sank to the floor of a valley. +They came to rest upon a rocky floor.</p> + +<p>On all sides their windows showed a waste of torn and twisted rock. +Volcanic mountains towered to the heights, their sides streaked with +masses of lava, frozen to stillness these countless years from its +molten state. The rising sun, its movement imperceptible, cast long +slanting rays between the peaks. It lighted a ghostly world, white +with thick hoar-frost of solid carbon dioxide. A silent world, locked +in the stillness of cold near the absolute zero. Not a breath of air +stirred; no flurry of snow gave semblance of life to the scene. Their +generator was stillen, and the silence, after the endless roaring of +endless days, was overpowering.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ut Winslow pointed exultantly from one window, where an icy expanse +could be seen. "That will be water," he said; "water, when the sun has +risen."</p> + +<p>He turned on the generator for warmth. The cold was striking through +the thick insulated walls. They sat silent, peering out upon that +boundless desolation, upon a world's breathless nakedness, exposed for +the first time in all eternity to human eyes.</p> + +<p>Jerry's mind was searching for some means of expression, but the words +would not come. There were neither words nor coherent thoughts to give +vent to the emotions that surged within him.</p> + +<p>Their watches showed the passage of nearly two earth days before they +dared venture forth. They watched the white mantle of frost vanish +into gas. From the darkness that they called "west," winds rushed +shriekingly into the sunrise.</p> + +<p>"Convection currents," Winslow explained; "off under the sun. In the +direct rays the heat grows intense; the air rises. This is rushing in +to fill the void. It will serve our ends, too. It will churn the air +into a mixture we can breathe, dispel the thick layer of CO_2 that +must have formed close to the ground."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span></p> + +<p>More hours, and the icy sheet was melting. A film of water rippled in +the gusts of wind. Winslow opened the release valve that would permit +the escape of air from their chamber, equalizing the pressures within +and without. The air hissed through the valve, and he closed it so the +escape was gradual.</p> + +<p>"We must exercise," he told Jerry. "We will decompress slowly, like +divers coming up from deep-sea work. But watch yourself," he warned. +"Remember you are six times as strong as you were on the earth. Don't +jump through the roof."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he valve had ceased to hiss when Winslow opened it wide. The air in +their cabin was thin; their lungs labored heavily at first. Jerry felt +as he had felt more than once at some great elevation on earth. But +they lived, and they could breathe, and they were about to do what +never man had done—to set foot on this place men called the unknown +side of the moon.</p> + +<p>Earth habits were strong: Jerry brought his pistol and a hunting knife +out of his pack and hung them at his belt, as the inventor opened the +door and sniffed cautiously of the air.</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster's blood was racing; the air was cold on his face as he +rushed out. But it brought to his nostrils odors strange and yet +strangely familiar. He was oddly light-headed, irresponsible as a +child as he shouted and danced and threw himself high in the air, to +laugh childishly at the pure pleasure of his light landing.</p> + +<p>The sun made long shadows of two ludicrous figures that went leaping +and racing across the rocks. Their strength was prodigious, and they +were filled with an upwelling joy of living and the combined urge of +an eternity of spring-times. The very air tingled with life; there was +overpowering intoxication in this potent, exhilarating breath from a +world new-born.</p> + +<p>The ground that they crossed so recklessly was a vast honeycomb of +caves. Between the rocks the soil was soft with the waters from +melting ice, and the men laughed as they floundered at times in the +oozing mud. Beyond was a lake, and it was blue with a depth of color +that was almost black, a reflection of the deep, velvet blackness of +the sky overhead. And beyond that was the sloping side of an extinct +volcano.</p> + +<p>"Up—up!" Jerry shouted. "From up there we will see the whole +world—the whole moon!" He laughed as he repeated the exultant phrase: +"The moon—the whole moon!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div> +<p>espite their strength which carried them in wild bounds across +impassable chasms, their laboring lungs checked them in the ascent. +The joyous inebriation was wearing off. Winslow met his companion's +eyes sheepishly as they stopped where a sheer cliff of basalt above +caught and held the warmth of the sun's rays. Behind them it rose a +straight hundred feet, and before stretched a vast panorama. The sun +was mounting now in the sky. It brought into strong relief the welter +of volcanic waste that extended in bold detail through the clear air +far out to the horizon, where, misty and dim, the first vaporous +clouds were forming from the steaming earth.</p> + +<p>And as they watched, the depressing bareness and emptiness of that +gray-black expanse was changing. Far to the east a pink flush was +spreading on the hills. It wavered and flowed, and it changed, as they +watched, to deep areas of orange and red. The delicate pink swept in +waves over valleys and hills, a vast kaleidoscopic coloration that +rioted over a strange world.</p> + +<p>In silence it spilled into the valley below. The slope they had +traversed was radiant with color.</p> + +<p>At their feet the ground was in motion: it heaved and rolled in +countless places. Rounded shapes in myriads were emerging. +Plants—mushroom growths—poured up from the earth to drink in the +sunshine of their brief summer. They burst the earth to show<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span> +unfolding leaves or blunted, rounding heads, that grew before the +men's incredulous eyes.</p> + +<p>Winslow was the first to recover from the stupefying beauty of the +spectacle.</p> + +<p>"The machine!" he gasped. "Back to the ship! We'll be swamped, +overwhelmed...." He rushed madly back down the slope.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>erry was beside him, a revulsion of feeling driving him to frantic +efforts. The piercing beauty that had enthralled him has become a +thing of terror. The soft, pulpy, growing things that crushed beneath +his feet were a menace in their lust for life.</p> + +<p>They were a mile and more from the machine. Could they ever find it, +Jerry wondered. The whole landscape was changed; bare rocks were +half-hidden now under clinging, creeping vines. Only the sun remained +as a guide. They must go toward the sun and a little north.</p> + +<p>He followed Winslow, who was circling a huge area of weird growths +that already were waist high. They leaped across a gaping chasm and +fought their way over a low hill, rank with vegetation, only to be +confronted by a maze of great stalks—stalks that sprouted as they +watched, dismayed, and threw out grotesque and awkward branches.</p> + +<p>They made one futile effort to force their way, but the trunks, though +pliant, were unyielding. To attempt to find their way through the +labyrinth was folly.</p> + +<p>"We've got to keep on trying," said Jerry Foster. "We've got to get +back, or...."</p> + +<p>Winslow, as the look in his eyes showed, needed no ending to that +sentence. There was the summer of a lunar day ahead; the inventor did +not need to be told of the scorching, broiling heat that would wither +the land when the sun struck from straight overhead. And in their ship +was food and water and a means of transport to the cooler heights +above.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was Jerry who took charge of the situation. Here was a prodigious +laboratory in which Winslow's science was useless, but in fighting +with nature—even nature in as weird and terrifying a mood as +this—Jerry felt himself not entirely incompetent.</p> + +<p>He looked about him. It had been but an hour since they watched the +first onslaught of this life that engulfed them. And now they were cut +off. Through an opening, where bare rocks made a rift in the +vegetation, he saw again the high ground where they had stood. There +was more rock there on the volcanic slope: the growing things were in +clumps—islands, rather than continents of rank growth.</p> + +<p>"We must go back," he told Winslow, "and climb while we can. Get to +the high ground, take bearings on the place where we left the ship. +We'll look over the ground and figure some way to get there."</p> + +<p>Winslow nodded. He was plainly bewildered, lost in the new jungle. He +followed Jerry, who bounded across a crevice in the earth. The ground +was rotten with the honeycomb of caves and cracks.</p> + +<p>Jerry forced his way through and over a rock heap, where the thick +trunks of nightmare trees were spaced farther apart. There was an +opening ahead; he started forward, then stopped abruptly and motioned +the other to silence.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div> +<p>rom beyond there came sounds. There was rending of soft, pliant +tissue. The sound came through the thin air from a grove up ahead, +where big plants were waving, though the wind had long since ceased. +To their ears came a snoring, blubbering snuffle. A stone was +dislodged, to come bounding toward them from the hillside; the soft +plants were flattened before it. The men cowered in the shelter of a +giant fungus.</p> + +<p>Beyond the rocks, above the mottled reds and yellows of the grotesque +trees, a head appeared. It waved at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span> end of a long, leathery neck. +All mouth, it seemed to the watchers, as they saw a pair of short +forelegs pull the succulent tops of the giant growth into a capacious +maw. Below, there was visible a part of a gigantic, grayish body. It +was crashing down toward them, eating greedily as it came.</p> + +<p>"Back," said Jerry softly. "Go back to that cave. We will hide there +in some crack in the ground."</p> + +<p>They picked their way noiselessly over the rocks. The cave they had +crossed offered a refuge from the beast. It went slantingly down into +the ground, a great tunnel, deep in the rock. They dropped into the +opening and started forward, only to recoil at the fetid stench that +assailed their nostrils.</p> + +<p>"A bear pit," gasped Jerry. "Great Heavens! What a smell!"</p> + +<p>They stopped, dismayed. Far below them in the bowels of some +subterranean passage was the crashing of loose stone; a scrambling and +scratching of great claws came echoing to them. They leaped madly for +the outer air.</p> + +<p>"Over here," Jerry directed, and led the way, crouching, to the +concealment of great stalks and vine-covered rocks. He pointed toward +the open ground where they had been a few moments before. The +tree-eater was out in full view. Its flabby, barrel-like body was +squatted like that of some unearthly, giant toad, on massive hind +legs. It sat erect, its forelegs hung in air, as a hoarse, snarling +cry came from the cave. The great head, perched on the long leathery +neck, waved from side to side.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he noise from the cave ceased. The rift in the earth was in plain +sight from where they cowered, and the eyes of the men were upon it. +One instant it was empty; the next, in uncanny silence, it was filled +with huge hideousness—an enormous, crouching beast.</p> + +<p>It was black, a dull leathery black. Its thick, hairless hide hung in +creases and folds on a gaunt frame. Shorter than the tree-eater, it +was still a thing of mammoth ugliness. Its hind legs were powerful and +armed with claws that curved deep into the earth; its front legs +displayed the same fearful weapons. A thick, heavy tail slashed +forward and back over the ground. And from this to the grinning, +heavy-toothed jaws and beady eyes where the long neck ended in a warty +head, it was an incarnation of pitiless ferocity.</p> + +<p>Was the scent of the hidden, shuddering men in its red nostrils? It +forgot them at the sight of the beast in the clearing. The snarling +cry echoed hideously in the thin air as the frightful body came erect +with neck extended, jaws open and dripping. It hurled itself through +the air in one terrific leap.</p> + +<p>Had there been any lingering hope in the minds of the men that they +had no carnivores to deal with, the ensuing struggle ended it. The +attacker tore great masses of living flesh from the struggling, +screaming body. The first cumbersome brute was helpless before its +destroyer.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>erry was trembling and sick at the sight, but he grasped his +companion's arm and drew him after as he slipped quietly away.</p> + +<p>"To the high ground," he whispered. "It's our only hope. Perhaps we +can fight them off there—find some steep rock we can climb." They +worked their way desperately through the rubbery, obstructing growth.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the hill there was better going; the bare rock gave +winding and twisting passage to the heights. They could have leaped +over the stunted growths here, could have raced frantically for the +high ground, but they dared not. To leap up into view of those fierce, +searching eyes! It was unthinkable. They crouched low as they darted +from their concealment to new shelter, and crawled behind rocks when +open ground must be crossed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span></p> + +<p>They had dared regain hope when again the paralyzing scream ripped +through the silence. It was answered by another and another from +distant points. The valley of the caves was spewing out its loathsome +dwellers from their winter's sleep.</p> + +<p>The men raced openly now for the heights. As he leaped, Jerry turned +to see over one shoulder a pursuer appear. It was one of the +flesh-eaters, head to the ground on their trail. At sight of them its +cry rang out again. It bounded forward in pursuit. And again there +were answering screams from the jungle growth.</p> + +<p>The men threw themselves frantically up the mountainside. Once Winslow +landed in a sprawling heap and groaned as he drew himself to his feet. +The beast was below them. Jerry seized a great boulder, whose +earth-weight would have made it immovable. He raised it above his head +and sent it crashing down the slope.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>nother and another he threw. One struck the great beast in mid-air; +it was pure luck that drove the stone crashing against the creature's +head. It fell back with a blood-chilling snarl that was half shriek. +Another monster appeared, to throw itself upon the first and tear at +the crushed, waving head.</p> + +<p>Jerry took his companion by the arm. His voice came strangled from his +straining lungs. "Are you hurt?" he gasped. "Can you run?"</p> + +<p>Winslow nodded breathlessly. Again they gathered themselves for their +wild, leaping retreat toward the top. An uproar of furious fighting +behind them marked where a score of the monsters had gathered for the +feast.</p> + +<p>Jerry watched vainly for some refuge, some pinnacle of rock or +precipice they could climb, and from which they could beat down their +attackers. There was nothing but the welter of volcanic waste: rock +heaps and boulders and smooth streams of solid lava. Perhaps in the +crater, he thought, over the ragged crest of the cone, might be some +place of safety.</p> + +<p>The pack was in full cry again as they climbed gaspingly to the top. +Beyond lay the funnel-shaped crater. Its vast inner slopes were less +steep than the hill they had climbed. They were covered with a jungle, +like those they had seen—a maze of red toadstools and distorted +trees.</p> + +<p>Jerry turned savagely to face the oncoming brutes. This, he knew, was +the end. For this they had hurled themselves through space—to make a +morning morsel for these incredible beasts.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>bout the men was a confusion of granite rocks, thrown from the crater +to provide weapons, crude and futile, for two puny earth-dwellers. The +men raised great rocks in the air and threw them with all their +strength. Jerry struggled with a mammoth boulder,—Winslow leaping to +his aid. They toppled it over to start an avalanche of devastation +that swept into the oncoming monsters.</p> + +<p>And again there was respite for their aching arms, while the +hunger-crazed brutes tore at the bruised bodies of their fellows.</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster looked longingly again toward the crater. Should they +chance the shelter of the jungle growth? Hopeless, he knew when these +monsters could crash their way through while the men were impeded at +every step. The mottled, orange-green stalks, as he watched them, +seemed to move. He dashed the sweat from his face—his hair hung +matted on his forehead—and passed a grimy hand across his eyes. +Plainly, one of those stalks crossed a rocky-floored clearing.</p> + +<p>Was he dreaming? Was this all a dream—a mad nightmare from which he +could force himself to wake? Another moved. He saw definitely a +mushroom growth pass swiftly to lose itself in a neighboring clump. +Dreaming? No! The screams from behind him and Winslow's hoarse yell +proved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span> the stark reality of his surroundings.</p> + +<p>The vile creatures were close: Jerry could see their fierce heads +dripping with blood. He reached for his pistol, knew instantly it was +useless against these mammoth brutes, and joined Winslow, who was +straining desperately at another great rock. It toppled and fell. +Jerry hurled himself at a heap of smaller boulders and sent them +crashing as fast as he could seize them and throw.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ne quick look behind him showed still the impossible vision he had +seen. And now there were figures—a mob of them—figures that threw +off their wrappings of vegetation as they ran, cast to the ground the +toadstool disguises that they held. They were caricatures of men that +were swarming up the hill....</p> + +<p>He swung again in one last hopeless stand against the first horrible +enemy. The two men poured a torrent of stones down the slope; they +were useless, except for their delaying the advance. The beasts leaped +and dodged. They were close when the rock-rain increased to a deluge.</p> + +<p>Jerry was fighting in a red haze through which he saw dimly. He was +aware of the hailstorm of boulders that were thick in the air. He saw +vaguely the white faces and copper-clad bodies of strange men leaping +about him, and he heard the wild bedlam of their shrieks as they +joined in the mad battle against the common enemy.</p> + +<p>The beasts were swept off in a landslide of loose rock—all but one. +Above them, on a high point of stone, it was crouching to spring. A +wild human figure, its flesh white as chalk, leaped forward with a +tangle of fibers. The tangle was thrown as the brute was in air. A net +spread and wrapped around the monster. It fell, clawing and tearing, +to roll helplessly down the slope.</p> + +<p>The battle was won. Jerry swayed drunkenly on his feet. About him the +mountains seemed whirling, where unreal figures of men with dead +white skin and shining copper armor danced dizzily.</p> + +<p>He met for an instant the look from Winslow's dazed eyes. Out of the +past a picture flashed clearly: Winslow—this same Winslow—arguing +that the moon might hold mysteries still. He laughed thickly.</p> + +<p>"And I said it was all known," he muttered through slack lips. +"Nothing on the moon that wasn't known...."</p> + +<p>He was still laughing in a wild inebriation as a net settled close to +entangle his swaying figure and bear him helpless to the ground. He +saw Winslow similarly bound, saw him lifted to the shoulders of +shouting, yelling men, whose stupid, pasty faces were wide-eyed with +excitement.</p> + +<p>He, too, was raised into the air.... They were being carried toward +the crater's mouth....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p> fight for life in thin air does not make for clear thinking. Jerry +Foster knew only that a nightmare world was whirling about him; that +beneath him powerful shoulders supported, while the one who carried +him leaped at racing speed down the slope.</p> + +<p>They went more slowly down pathways cleared through the rank +vegetation. Soft, pulpy vines from the grotesque trees brushed his +face. He tried vaguely to shield himself, but his hands were bound +fast. He was helpless in the entangling folds of the net.</p> + +<p>The touch of cold stone brought him to his senses. He was lying on +smooth rock. They were in a clearing. He turned his head to find +Winslow, but could not find him.</p> + +<p>Across the open ground were naked men, their bodies, like these +others, dead white in the sun's glare. They were dragging giant stalks +to earth by means of ropes. Trunks and branches, bright in their +colors of yellow and orange and flaming red, were hacked to short +lengths and piled on all sides. The workers, as Jerry watched, +dropped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span> their implements to race toward him. There was a press of +flat, white faces above. His captors, in their copper armor, beat the +newcomers back. The babel of chattering voices was deafening.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>gain he was lifted into the air—plainly these were no weaklings he +had to deal with—and again the warrior band surrounded him as the +march was resumed. The milling, shrieking crowd of workers followed in +an ear-splitting mob.</p> + +<p>The forest ended, and the men went slowly now down smooth, rocky +slopes to stop upon a wide, level expanse. Before he was placed on the +ground Jerry had a glimpse of a funnel-shaped pit—the mouth of the +extinct volcano. And toward it, bound and helpless, was being carried +a struggling form which he thought he recognized.</p> + +<p>"Winslow!" he shouted. But the bodies in their gleaming copper armor +closed about him in a solid throng and cut off his view.</p> + +<p>In the sky the sun had moved slowly upward since first they landed. It +slanted brightly now into the eyes of the prostrate man and made a +spectacle of his twisting contortions as he tried to get his hands on +his knife in its sheath at his belt. This and his pistol were under +his coat. But he could not reach them. He lay panting with his +exertions.</p> + +<p>One of the warriors seemed to have authority, for his arms alone of +all the group were sheathed with copper circlets, and the others +obeyed his orders. Jerry addressed himself to this one. He knew the +words were unintelligible, but he pleaded desperately for a chance.</p> + +<p>"Take this off," he said. "We are friendly—friends—friends!" He +struggled to keep himself from shouting, to keep his voice under +control. "The other man," he said, "bring him back." And again he +repeated: "We are friends."</p> + +<p>He scanned his captors' faces.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he pasty face above him was impassive; the eyes stared +uncomprehendingly into his. Then the figure barked an order. One of +the warriors swung Jerry lightly to his shoulder, and started toward +the pit.</p> + +<p>At its edge was a basket, a huge affair of knotted fiber ropes. Dimly, +Jerry saw other baskets standing about: they were filled with the +fragments of fungus. Still bound, he was placed in the empty +container. Hands grasped the meshes, and he was swung out over the +edge. A rope was above him: he was lowered steadily into the dark +shaft.</p> + +<p>Jerry breathed a sigh of relief. This was not death—not yet. And +Winslow? Safe, perhaps, for he had traveled this same road.</p> + +<p>There was figures outlined above against the circle of light, figures +that clambered like apes down swaying ropes. The light glinted and +sparkled from their shining armor. His escort was still with him.</p> + +<p>The circle of light changed to a glowing ring, where only the rim was +lighted. Above was the deep black of the lunar sky. Then the circle +faded to a mere point as he went down into the pit.</p> + +<p>The rope basket came to rest upon a rock floor, and Jerry was lifted +out. He saw plainly the figures about him, and he wondered vaguely at +the light that came from the walls of the cavern. There were long +lines of soft light, leading off into the dark, lines that marked +plainly a labyrinth of passageways, leading in all directions.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>eyond a narrow entrance was one brighter than the rest, a broad +avenue that led downward still further into the depths. Here he was +carried. He tried vainly to keep some mental map of their course. He +would return some day—he <i>must</i> return—he and Winslow. They would +escape.... But the passage turned and twisted; there were many +branching corridors, each with its lines of light. Jerry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span> gave up the +attempt. It was a maze of serpentine streets beyond his power to +remember and recall.</p> + +<p>Before him the passage was still wider. It was opening into a great +room.... Jerry found himself upon the floor. He strained cruelly at +the cords about his head as he twisted and turned to get a view of his +surroundings.</p> + +<p>The room was a cave, its vast vaulted ceiling sprung high above a +level floor, where the figures of men—odd, plaster-white figures like +animated statues—were small in the distance. His eyes were drawn +quickly to the brilliant glow of the farther wall. There was the +bright black of basaltic formation, and in it—though he knew the +impossibility—was shining the sun.</p> + +<p>Jerry blinked his eyes to look again and again; the golden circle was +dazzling. It was set at a point well above the smooth floor, and up to +it there led a sloping pathway of gold. It was as if they had indeed +captured their god, these worshipers of the sun, had captured and held +it for the adoration of the grovelling people.</p> + +<p>Jerry saw them upon the floor. The copper of the armored men gleamed +bright in the glow from beyond, as they abased themselves and crept +slowly toward the light. At each side of the dazzling orb was a +platform. There were figures upon it, seated figures, Jerry saw, even +at a distance, that were robed in vestments of the sun. Their forms +gleamed gold in the light.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he leader that Jerry had noted among his captors crept on in advance +of his men. From among the bright figures on the platform above one +rose to extend a glowing arm. He spoke, and the tones rolled +majestically back from the high vault above. The crawling man below +him stopped rigidly where he was. Another word from above, and he rose +slowly to his feet. He stood full in the glow of the captive sun, to +be outlined in black against the brilliance beyond.</p> + +<p>Haltingly he spoke. Then, seeming to gain confidence, he launched into +a torrent of words. He gestured and waved, and, to Foster, the sign +language was plain. He saw reenacted the surprise of the warriors upon +beholding these intruders; saw how they had spied out upon them, using +trunks and branches of the fungus as a screen; saw in pantomime their +own battle with the beasts, then the rush of the armed men to the +rescue. Again the net was thrown, and the gesturing figure turned to +point dramatically where Jerry lay bound, then pounded his armored +chest with unconcealed pride.</p> + +<p>He ceased to speak, and there was utter silence in the room as the +figure above crossed to stand before the golden sun. He too abased +himself before the sign of their god, then rose, to stand motionless, +listening....</p> + +<p>For a breathless interval he waited before the oracle, then prostrated +himself again and returned to his place.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e repeated, it seemed, a command, congratulation, to judge by the +ecstasy of the figure below. The warrior turned once to throw himself +before the image of the sun; he repeated this again and yet again +before he crept back to his fellows. The group arose and rushed +swiftly toward the bound man.</p> + +<p>They brought him quickly into the presence. With scant ceremony Jerry +was unrolled from the net; he lay free and gasping upon the floor. The +men scurried like mad from out the pathway of light that shone down +from the false sun. Jerry rose to his feet; the brilliance before him +almost blinded, but he saw now whence it came.</p> + +<p>There was a hollow in the wall, a great parabola, deep and wide, and +it was lined throughout with beaten gold. In a straight path the light +was reflected from every point—every point but one for at the far +end, where the curved sides joined, was a circle of darkness. It +stared like an eye, evil, portentous. Jerry nerved himself for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span> an +ordeal, unknown but imminent. The black eye glared at him unwinkingly.</p> + +<p>Before him was the pathway of light: it shone brilliantly down the +sloping ramp where a floor of bright gold led up to the sun god +itself.</p> + +<p>The figure on the dais raised its hand. Jerry heard the words come +from its lips and roll sonorously back from above. The figure waited +for an answer.</p> + +<p>Jerry's hands slipped beneath his coat to rest reassuringly upon his +weapons. He withdrew his hands empty and raised one toward the figure +above.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand your words," he said. "Your language is strange. +No doubt mine is as strange to you. I come as a visitor—I am +friendly." He held out both his hands, palms upward.</p> + +<p>"We have come, my friend and myself, on a friendly errand." He paused +to look vainly about for Winslow. "And you have received us as if we +were wild animals."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>erry Foster, of San Francisco, U. S. A., was suddenly resentful of +their treatment. His words were meaningless, but his tones were not. +"You have tied us," he said, "bound us—dragged us before you. Is that +the way you receive your guests from another world?"</p> + +<p>The golden-clad figure stood in majestic silence while Jerry was +speaking. It waited a moment after his outburst, then crossed again to +bow low in the floodlight of gold. As before, it seemed listening to +words from the black heart of the strange sun, words quite +inaudible—soundless. He returned quickly and waved Jerry's attention +to the place of light.</p> + +<p>The sense of a presence there in the central blackness was strong upon +the waiting man. In that other life that now seemed so remote—his +life on earth—Jerry had once felt the threat of a concealed intruder +in the dark. He recalled it vividly now. The sensation was the same.</p> + +<p>But it was magnified. There was no denying the reality of a malign +something at the heart of that golden glow. The black center of it +vibrated with cold and venomous hate. It struck upon the waiting man +like a physical force. His head was swimming, his thoughts refused to +form. He was as if suspended in a great void, where all that was lay +deep in the center of that radiant orb. And it drew him irresistibly +on.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>ike a dazed bird, held and stricken in the hypnotic gaze of a snake, +Jerry took one stiff, unconscious forward step. Another, and another. +He strove dumbly, helplessly, for realization—there was nothing in +the universe but the certain thing ahead.</p> + +<p>His foot was upon the golden incline leading to his doom, when that +buried something which marks a man—the spark of divinity which sets +him apart as one alone—reasserted itself.</p> + +<p>"I am," he heard his own voice shouting in strangled tones, "I am +Jerry Foster! I am I ... I am myself!"</p> + +<p>He awoke from his stupor with a shock that set every nerve-fiber +quivering. For long minutes he stood silent. Then, realizing his +victory and proving it to his own soul, he looked straight into the +black center of the threatening sun god, and he laughed, loudly and +contemptuously. Then, turning, and with steady stride, he walked +calmly from the light.</p> + +<p>The great hall was silent with a silence that was breathless. Then +pandemonium broke lose. The priests and the god had been defied, and +screaming and shouts rang throughout the vast chamber to re-echo +batteringly from ceiling and walls. There was tumult and confusion +where the populace thronged. Even the figures above on the dais were +milling about in disorder; the rippling gold of their robes made a +spectacle that forced Jerry's involuntary admiration.</p> + +<p>Then one from among them sprang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span> forward. His voice roared above the +shattering din. The room was still. Another order, and the guard of +armed fighting men formed in a circle about the defier of their god.</p> + +<p>Jerry waited. Trouble was about due, he told himself. One hand was on +his pistol, tense and ready. As the ranks stood silent and made no +move to attack, Jerry Foster did a curious thing.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t was not done intentionally, but Jerry Foster had nerves, and they +had been under a strain. His hand went unconsciously to his pocket and +extracted a cigarette. There were matches there, too, and he struck +one and lighted the white cylinder. The match made a tiny flame where +he flipped it.</p> + +<p>The whole room whispered and hissed with one loud gasp of amazement, +but the moan that followed, that echoed and resounded from the roof, +was of nothing but horror. Even the warriors drew back in trembling +dismay. And before them the stranger they had brought to the very +portal of their sanctum of holies blew clouds of white smoke that +eddied and whirled as they rose round his head.</p> + +<p>The effect was not lost upon Jerry. And his mind was working. Was fire +unknown to these strange beings? Here in the deep caverns, far from +the surface, was fire a thing of terror to them? He looked back toward +the wall.</p> + +<p>"If they rush me," he thought, "there's a good place to be. That will +feel mighty comfortable at my back."</p> + +<p>He walked slowly, the smoke rising thick about his head. The +copper-clad figures before him withdrew, the ranks parting to let him +through. Unharmed he reached the safety of the wall. The enemy now +formed a semi-circle before him.</p> + +<p>The inertia of the stricken beings on the platform was broken by his +move. Again their head priest gave an order; from another side a +second detachment of armed men came on. They were carrying something. +Jerry leaned forward in quivering preparedness as he saw, in the +floodlight of radiance, the body of Winslow lying on the floor.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>as he injured? Dead? The devastating loneliness that swept him at the +sight of the still body was unnerving. He breathed a long sigh of +relief as the lanky figure rose slowly to its feet. Winslow was alive! +They would show these beastly, unearthly humans something yet.</p> + +<p>There was no preparation—no preliminaries. Whether Winslow could have +reacted as Jerry had would never be known. He seemed stunned and +helpless, and it was with no resisting hesitation that he began the +climb to the unknown.</p> + +<p>Jerry's crouching tenseness snapped. No thought of the gun as he +sprang toward the enemy between him and his friend. "No, Winslow—no!" +he shouted as he leaped at the figures in front of him.</p> + +<p>Their strength had seemed startling to Jerry when they had carried him +like a child. He had forgotten his lightness here on this unheavy +world. And he had forgotten his own great strength.</p> + +<p>No panting, exhausted, beaten fighter of beasts was this that hurled +himself against the ranks before him. One coppery sword flashed upward +above his head. Its bearer was seized in two hands that picked him +bodily from the floor and crashed him, a living projectile, among the +others. Jerry waited for no more. There was an opening ahead, and +beyond was Winslow, walking stiffly, certainly, up that damnable +slope. He threw himself in giant leaps across the floor.</p> + +<p>His companion was half-way up the glittering ramp when Jerry seized +him. Holding him in his arms, he leaped outward, to land rolling on +the floor. He was on his feet in an instant. He dragged Winslow to a +standing posture.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, man," he was shouting. "Winslow—wake up!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he onrushing horde was upon them while the tall man was still +brushing his hand over weary eyes, and Jerry, for the moment, had the +fighting to himself.</p> + +<p>No time for anything but parry and strike. He caught one white face on +the jaw; the man went bodily through the air. Jerry landed again and +again. His weapons were his fists, and they did fearful execution. And +he knew, at length, that he was not alone.</p> + +<p>The long arms of the inventor tore a sword from an upraised hand. Its +owner was thrown, as Jerry had thrown one previously, to catapult +among its fellows.</p> + +<p>They were clear for an instant. "Back to the wall!" shouted Jerry. He +had time and room to reach for his pistol, and drew it quickly from +its holster. They backed hastily to the protection of the stone wall. +There were scores upon scores of copper-clad figures that followed +them held out of reach. With a flashing of gold, the head priest +himself sprang to urge on his men.</p> + +<p>"Ready!" said Jerry. "I wish you had a gun! Here! Take this!" He +handed his companion a long-bladed knife, then turned to aim his +pistol with steady hand at the oncoming figure in golden robes.</p> + +<p>The priest stopped for a brief scrutiny of this new menace, then +screamed out an order and hurled himself into the sheltering press of +men.</p> + +<p>Jerry fired into the whirl of bodies. The roar of the forty-five tore +like a battery of siege guns throughout the great room. But the +creatures before them were fighting now in an insane frenzy. Their +bodies pressed the two men to the wall. Jerry fired again, and the +fall of a limp, gold-robed body gave him a thrill of delight.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he inventor was holding a white body as a shield, while he thrust +past it incessantly with a red blade. There were huddled figures +before them that lay quiet or crept painfully away. The body of the +head priest was being carried off.</p> + +<p>The dark mouth of a passage had impressed itself upon Jerry; he +remembered it now. It offered a means of escape.</p> + +<p>"Off to your right," he said. "Work off to your right. There's a hole +in the wall—"</p> + +<p>They fought off the struggling eruption of bodies that drove at them. +Jerry was saving his ammunition, but once more he fired as a sword was +falling over Winslow's head. He drove strongly with his left and beat +at the white skulls with the butt of the gun gripped in his other +hand.</p> + +<p>The passage was suddenly behind them. One last stand against the +screaming, frothing faces, and they backed, panting, into the +sheltering dark. Jerry stopped and took Winslow by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt?" he demanded. The inventor was too breathless for +reply.</p> + +<p>"Nothing much," he panted, after a moment. "One got me along the +cheek—you shot him just in time. How about you?"</p> + +<p>"O.K.," was the assurance. "But, man, I've been hammered!"</p> + +<p>"What a peach of a fight," he added. "But now what?"</p> + +<p>Winslow laughed mirthlessly in the dark. "This looks like a one-way +street," he said. "We can't go back.</p> + +<p>"Say," he demanded, with sudden, dim recollection. "I remember +something of a dream—a ghastly sort of thing. I was ... I was ... +where was I when you collared me? Where was I headed?"</p> + +<p>"For something too damnable for us to imagine," Jerry stated +emphatically.</p> + +<p>They were walking as rapidly as they dared through the dark passage. +There were high-pitched voices from the rear. From somewhere ahead +came the sound of running water.</p> + +<p>"Too damnable to imagine!" he repeated. "But we'll hunt the vile thing +out if we get a chance, and we'll slaughter—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span></p> + +<p>The words ended in a startled exclamation as the ground fell beneath +their feet. They pitched headlong into nothingness—</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>here was water in Jerry's face as he fell. A torrent engulfed him as +he struck into it, pouring in from a lower passageway to plunge +straight down the shaft. The roaring crash of water tore madly at his +body; his arm was shot through with stabbing pain as Winslow's falling +body was torn from his grasp.</p> + +<p>He was conscious only of his bursting lungs when he came to the +surface from the depths into which he plunged. With one arm he swam +weakly, the other trailing at his side, while he gulped greedily at +the air.</p> + +<p>A voice came hoarsely from a distance. "Foster," it called. +"Jerry—where are you, Jerry?"</p> + +<p>Ah, the good air in his lungs—he could swim more strongly now. He +managed to gasp an answer: "Here, Winslow, over here!" There was a +splashing in response to his voice. He heard it over the noise of the +waters he had been swept away from the cataract.</p> + +<p>A hand was upon him in the dark. "Hurt?" asked the welcome voice. "Can +you swim, Jerry?"</p> + +<p>"A little. One arm's working."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he hands fumbled over him quickly, and his good arm was drawn over +the other's back. "Hang on," Winslow told him. "I can swim. I'm half +fish."</p> + +<p>Jerry clung to the folds of the coat. He was light in the water, he +felt—riding high—and the man beside him was swimming with strong +strokes. He released his hold on the other as he felt strength ebbing +back into his body.</p> + +<p>"I can paddle," he said: "but stick around. Where are we going?"</p> + +<p>"In a circle, probably," was the reply, "though I'm trying to hold a +straight course. How big is this lake, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>They swam slowly, saving their strength, but it was a time that seemed +like endless hours before the answer to Winslow's question was found. +Jerry was fighting weakly, exhausted, and the hand supporting him was +failing when they felt sharp rocks against their dragging feet. The +hand that had held him still clung tightly to his shoulder as they +struggled upward and fell together where great rocks gave safety in +the darkness. In his arm the sharp pain had dwindled to numbness; +Jerry Foster asked only for sleep.</p> + +<p>There was light about him when he awoke. In his stupor he had found +again the surroundings he knew so well—the clash and clatter of a +distant city—the roaring traffic—signals, and glowing lights. He +came slowly back to unwelcome reality. The light was there, but it +shone in luminous lines along the wall to illumine the hateful +familiarity of the honeycombed rock that composed the moon.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>t showed, too, a familiar figure, breathing heavily where it lay on +the far side of the small room. Winslow's face was pale in the dull +light, and his eyes were closed. He was on a thick pallet of soft +fibers and across his body a cloth was spread, shot through with gold +in strange designs.</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster threw aside a robe of the same material that covered him. +He stifled an involuntary word as a twinge of pain shot through his +arm, then crossed noiselessly to shake softly at the shoulder of the +sleeping man. Winslow, too, came slowly from his sleep of complete +exhaustion, but his eyes were clear when they opened.</p> + +<p>"Where are—" he began a question, but Jerry's hand was pressed +quickly against his lips.</p> + +<p>They stared slowly about. The room that held them was in the natural +rock, but whether hewn out by hands or a natural formation they could +not tell. The rock was rotten with perforations, through which air +flowed in a cool stream.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jerry came softly to his feet to feel cautiously of the glowing, +luminous mounds along the wall. They were spread upon a ledge. The +light was cold to his touch, the material like fine soil in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Fluorescent," whispered Winslow. "Calcium sulphide, possibly; I saw +them spreading it above ground in the sun. It absorbs light and gives +it off slowly." Jerry nodded; the source of the endless glowing lines +had been puzzling to him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>heir whispers ceased at a sound beyond a doorway. In the opening a +figure appeared, tall and erect, the figure of a girl. Her face was +white like the others of these whose lives were lived below the +surface, but there was a kindly softness in the eyes, a refinement and +intelligence of no low order, that contrasted with the cold eyes of +the warriors and the priests. Not beautiful, perhaps, by earth +standards, yet it required no straining of chivalry on Jerry's part to +find her human and lovely.</p> + +<p>In silence the men stood staring. Then Foster, with unconscious +gentleness, made a revealing gesture. This woman—this girl—had saved +them. He knew it without words, and he was wordless to reply. He +dropped swiftly to his knees and pressed a bit of the golden robe +against his lips.</p> + +<p>A flush of scarlet swept across the white face and receded. The hand +dropped from its startled poise and rested, gently, questioningly, on +the brown head bent before her.</p> + +<p>She murmured unintelligible words in a guarded voice as Jerry arose. +"Marahna," she said, and touched her breast lightly. "Marahna." Her +head was erect, the whole attitude imperious, commanding. She +questioned them with swift, liquid words. The men shook their heads in +utter incomprehension.</p> + +<p>Again she spoke, and again they shook their heads. Jerry felt foolish +and dumb. He took his turn at questioning, and this time, with a +trace of a smile, it was the girl's turn to shake her head. She had +mastered one sign at least.</p> + +<p>Pointing toward the great hall they knew was somewhere above, she +reenacted the scene there; she evidently knew what had transpired. And +now Jerry nodded in confirmation. That she approved of the part they +had played was evident.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div> +<p>ow she questioned whence they had come. She pointed down, and her +fluttering hands and graceful posture spoke eloquently. She showed +them more than a trace of fear, too, as she marked them coming from +the depths. Jerry shook his head in vehement denial.</p> + +<p>He pointed above, spread his hands wide, tried as best he could to +indicate vast distance beyond. She stared, wide-eyed, then in her turn +knelt as if before a god.</p> + +<p>"She thinks we have come down from the sun," Winslow surmised. "Well, +let it go at that." But Jerry Foster was embarrassed in the strange +role of a god; he raised the humbled, kneeling young woman to her +feet.</p> + +<p>He pointed to her gold-clad figure and repeated the name she had +given. "Marahna," he said. "Marahna!" Then, placing his hand on his +companion, he repeated: "Winslow—Winslow!" And, pointing to himself, +he completed the introduction with: "Foster, Jerry—Jerry Foster!"</p> + +<p>The pale lips formed themselves slowly to the strange and unaccustomed +sounds.</p> + +<p>"Cherrie," she repeated, and smiled in comprehension. "Cherrie."</p> + +<p>This was the first of many lessons, and it was amazing to both men how +rapidly they learned to get their thoughts across. In turn, they +learned to read the messages that the slim hands and graceful, +undulating body conveyed. Even words were linked one by one with their +indicated objects and meanings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ne syllable the girl used only in a hushed and awe-stricken tone. It +was "Oong" that she whispered, while her eyes filled with terror and +dread. And they knew this for the name of the horror that waited in +the black center of that unholy place where the pathway of light +ascended. It was later that they learned to read hatred as well as +sheer terror in the emotions that the word <i>Oong</i> aroused.</p> + +<p>The first lesson ended in a soft exclamation from the girl. She +withdrew, to return in a moment with a beaker of hammered gold, filled +with cold water. In her hands, too, were strange fruits and branches +of fungus. She ate bits of them to show they were food. And Jerry, as +he watched her, was aware that he was famished. But the two men ate +sparingly at first of the strange food.</p> + +<p>It was tasteless, they found, except for an elusive flavor, but the +reception of the food in their gnawing stomachs was satisfactory. +Their strength was returning, and with it came hope of release. The +moon-people, evidently, were not altogether villainous.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Jerry in a normal tone, "that was—" White fingers +trembled against his lips to enforce silence.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he girl listened intently, then stole softly out into the corridor +from which she had come. She motioned the men to follow, and pointed +there in the dim light to a far room.</p> + +<p>There were others, they saw; a group of young women lying at ease on +their pallets, or moving slowly about. The need for quiet was +apparent, more so when the figure of a man appeared as they watched. +Quickly the girl, Marahna, stepped before them and motioned them back +to their room.</p> + +<p>She followed and glanced quickly about. In the farther wall was an +opening, close to the floor, and low, but they managed to work their +way through at her silent command. A passage, much like the others, +lay beyond. It widened and grew higher, until they could stand erect. +Back in the circle of light they saw, for a moment, the man, bowing +low in respect before Marahna. He carried a basket of light that shone +brightly in the room.</p> + +<p>"Replenishing the supply of sulphide," whispered Winslow.</p> + +<p>A current of air came cool and refreshing from a branching tunnel in +the rock. There was no lack of ventilation, as they well knew, +throughout all the tortuous passages, but this came with a scent of +outdoors that set both men a-tingle with hope. Jerry forgot even the +dull ache in his arm as he breathed deep of this messenger from the +outside.</p> + +<p>But exploration must wait. They needed to rest, to learn and to plan. +They returned when Marahna called softly from the room.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>ime had lost all its meaning. They could only guess at the hours that +had passed since the hour they left their ship, could only make +unanswered surmises as to where was the sun or how much was left of +the long lunar day. They must escape—they would escape—but their one +stroke for freedom must not be made when darkness and paralyzing cold +should force them back into the hands of the enemy tribes.</p> + +<p>Marahna was with them much of the time, and always they struggled and +strove with desperate concentration to grasp at the meanings of the +thoughts she tried to convey. And they learned much.</p> + +<p>Of the passage they believed they had found out to the surface, she +knew little. But she showed them, with doubt in her face, that there +was almost hopeless struggle along that path to the freedom above. +Sadly she touched Jerry's injured arm, and she shook her head in +dejection.</p> + +<p>The arm had had a bad wrench, Jerry found. No fracture, but the +muscles and ligaments had been painfully torn. But Jerry set his teeth +firm at the thought of a possible escape.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>nce, peering along the dark passage that led to the room where the +others had been seen, the men noticed the deep bows that unfailingly +marked the entrance of Marahna. They questioned her and learned that +here was royalty among the people of the moon. This, as they +considered the proud poise of her head and her whole attitude of +unassuming superiority was not entirely surprising. But they marveled +the more at the truth that she finally made plain to them.</p> + +<p>Marahna, she told them, as plainly as if she were speaking in their +own tongue, Marahna was chosen for death. And her white face was +pitiful and her eyes full of horror as she enacted for them the slow +march she must take up the long golden slope and into the horror that +waited.</p> + +<p>"A sacrifice to that god!" Jerry spoke with dismay. "No, no!" But the +face of the Princess Marahna of the moon people was unutterably sad +with unspoken thoughts as she touched her breast with one slender +finger, then indicated the outer room and showed there were two there +beside herself who were to go.</p> + +<p>"Help us to get out," Jerry begged, and with fierce eagerness he +showed them going through the passage to the outside. "We will come +back, and we will find some way to end all this damnable thing."</p> + +<p>She gave them to understand the time that was left. The sun, she +showed, was long past the meridian and was on its return. The day was +now reaching a close. And then, as the sun set, the great sacrifice +would be made—had always been made—to insure the return of their +god.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>heir watches were useless, for the water had entered their cases. The +two men waited what they judged was the length of a day, while Jerry +tried to believe that his arm was improving. Then, putting a small +supply of food in their pockets, they were ready for the attempt.</p> + +<p>Jerry saw that his gun and knife were ready at his belt, and patted a +pocket where his matches were safe in their watertight container. The +prospect of escape almost unnerved him. To breathe the clear air; to +stand in the radiant light of the sun—he could understand now how +these people made a god of the sun. He turned to Marahna.</p> + +<p>"Good-by," he said, "but not for long. We'll be back. And we'll save +you, Marahna, we'll save you. Winslow will figure some way to do +it.... We'll be back...."</p> + +<p>The girl was silent. She touched Jerry's arm, and shook her head +slowly, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>He reached for the hand. It trembled, he felt, in his. The impulse to +take the slim form within his arms, to hold her close, was strong upon +him. Would he ever see her again ... would he?</p> + +<p>"Won't you say good-by, Marahna?" he asked.</p> + +<p>But she smiled, instead—a friendly smile, and encouraging. Then +dropped in silence to her knees to press with both her trembling hands +his hand upon her forehead. And, still in silence, she rose to vanish +from the room.</p> + +<p>The men entered the narrow opening to start forward into the dark. But +Jerry Foster was puzzled, puzzled and more than a trifle hurt. Marahna +could at least have said good-by. She knew the word, for he had taught +it to her. And she had let him—them—go....</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," he thought, "how can I know how a princess feels—a +princess of the moon? And why should I care—why should she? But...." +He refused to complete the thought. He hurried instead, as best he +could, to follow Winslow, fumbling ahead of him in the dark.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>erry had used plenty of muttered invective with the massage he had +given his arm, but he cursed his handicap wholeheartedly at the end of +some several hours.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were standing, he and Winslow, in a dark tunnel. They had climbed +and clawed their way through the absolute dark, over broken fragments, +through narrow apertures, down and up, and up again through a +tortuous, winding course. And now they had reached the end. They had +found the source of the fresh air, had come within reaching distance, +it seemed, of sunlight and all that their freedom might mean. And they +had come, too, to a precipitous rock wall.</p> + +<p>They stared long and hopelessly at the shaft that reached, vertical +and sheer, high, high over their heads. And a curse like that of +Tantalus was theirs. For, far at the top, slanting in through some +off-shooting passage, there was sunlight. It was unmistakable in its +clear glare, beautiful, glorious—and unattainable.</p> + +<p>There were roughnesses in the wall, footholds, handholds here and +there. "It might be ... it might be...." Jerry tried to believe, but +the ache in his arm made the thought hopeless and incomplete. He +turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>"I believe you can do it," he said steadily.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>inslow's dark eyes were gleaming in the dimness that surrounded. +"Possibly," he replied, and eyed the ascent with an appraising stare. +"Even probably. But you know damn well, Foster, that I'm not going to +try."</p> + +<p>"Don't be an ass." Jerry's tone was harsh, but the tall man must have +known what emotions lay underneath.</p> + +<p>"We'll play it out together," he said.</p> + +<p>Jerry was silent as he reached in the darkness for Winslow's hand.</p> + +<p>"Of course I knew you were that sort," he said. He waited a moment, +then added: "But you're going, old man, you're going. Don't you see +it's our only hope?"</p> + +<p>Winslow shook his head emphatically. Jerry could see him in the dim +reflection from that radiance above. "Nothing doing," the calm voice +assured him. "Don't bother to think up more reasons why I should +desert."</p> + +<p>"Listen!" Jerry gripped roughly at the other's shoulder. "Listen to +reason.</p> + +<p>"If you go and I go back there, what will happen? With Marahna gone we +are helpless, and we will be helpless to save her. The long night is +ahead. How can we live? Where can we live? We will be wiped out as +sure as we're alive this minute.</p> + +<p>"If you go—and if you make it to the ship—there's a chance. Alone, I +may manage to stick it out." He knew he was lying, knew that the other +knew it too, but he went on determinedly. "You can wait for me up +above. My arm will be well—" Winslow stopped him with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"There's a chance," the older man was muttering, "there's a +chance...." He swung quickly toward Foster, to grab hard at the good +right hand.</p> + +<p>"I'm going," he stated. "I'm on my way. I won't say good-by; what's +the use—I'll be back soon!"</p> + +<p>He released his hold on Jerry to leap high in the air for a ledge of +projecting rock. He caught it and hung. His foot found a toehold and +he drew himself up to where another rough outcrop gave grip for his +hand.</p> + +<p>Jerry Foster stood frozen to throbbing stillness. Words were +strangling in his throat, an impulse, almost irresistible, to call. If +there were only a rope....</p> + +<p>He was still silent when the tiny figure of his companion and friend +was lost in the heights, where it vanished into that tunnel from which +came the light. He turned blindly, to stumble back into the dark.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div> +<p>arahna was waiting when he regained the safety of her room. "Safety!" +The thought was bitter when linked with the certain fate that lay +ahead.</p> + +<p>Silently she stroked the bent head of the man who dropped dejectedly +upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span> the hard stone floor. Her fingers were gentle, comforting, +despite the utter hopelessness and discouragement that lay heavily +upon him.</p> + +<p>They sat thus, nor counted the flying minutes, while the fog of +despair in the mind of the beaten man was clearing. He raised his head +finally to meet the look in the dark eyes. And he managed a smile, as +one can who has thought his way through to the bitter end and has +faced it. He patted the hand that had stroked his bowed head.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," he said gently. "What is to be, will be—and we +can't change it. And it's all right somehow."</p> + +<p>His sleeping, during their long stay, had been a cause for amusement +to Marahna, whose habits were tuned to the long days and nights on the +moon. And he was sleepy now, sleepy and tired. She spread the robe +over him as he rested on the soft fiber bed.</p> + +<p>He awoke from a deep sleep with a light heart. For Jerry Foster, as he +faced his own certain death, had seen certain things. It was the +end—that was one fact he couldn't evade. But he grinned cheerfully, +all by himself in that strange cheerless room, as he thought of what +else he had visioned.</p> + +<p>"And it will be just one hell of a fight," he said softly aloud. +"There will be some of those priests that will know they have been in +a war."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e examined again the knife and the automatic, and counted the +cartridges left in the magazine. There were more he had found in a +pocket of his coat, enough to replace those he had fired. He slipped +the pistol into its holster at the sound of soft footsteps +approaching.</p> + +<p>It was Marahna who entered, a strange and barbaric Marahna. She was +clad in a garment of spun gold that enveloped her tall figure. It +trailed in rippling beauty on the floor—draped in resplendence her +slim body, to end in soft folds about a head-dress that left Jerry +breathless.</p> + +<p>Her face was entirely concealed. The gold helmet covered her head. It +was tall, made entirely of hammered gold in which spirals of jewels +reflected their colors of glittering light. She was quite +unrecognizable in the weird magnificence.</p> + +<p>Only her voice identified the figure. She murmured chokingly some soft +words, then raised her head with its barbaric helmet proudly high as +she concluded. There were words become familiar now to Jerry. Together +with the spectacle she presented, her meaning was more than plain.</p> + +<p>"The time has come," she was telling him. "The sun ... the hour of +sacrifice."</p> + +<p>Jerry leaped to his feet. His plans for battle were being revised. An +idea—a plan, half-formed—was beating in his brain.</p> + +<p>A sound was beating upon him, too. There were drums that throbbed in +steady unison, that echoed hollowly along resounding walls, that +approached in loudly increasing cadence.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he plan was complete. "No!" said Jerry Foster, with a wild laugh. He +reached to remove the golden helmet.</p> + +<p>He placed it upon his own head, under the startled gaze of the +wondering girl. He reached out for the robe.</p> + +<p>"You shall not go," he told her. "I will go in your place. And when I +reach that room...." His eyes were savage behind the slits in the +golden head-dress.</p> + +<p>"No—no!" the girl protested. Her face showed plainly the complete +hopelessness of what Jerry proposed. To pit himself against that +antagonist—she knew how futile was the brave gesture.</p> + +<p>Jerry was undaunted. "I've got to die anyway," he tried to explain, +"and if I can get in one good crack at whatever is there—well, I may +be of help."</p> + +<p>His hand was taking off the cloak. Marahna's eyes were steady upon +him. She ceased to resist. She whipped one of the covers from the +couch about her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span> and helped him with the golden robe.</p> + +<p>The throbbing of drums was hammering at Jerry's temples. They were +close at hand! Marahna, without a word, rushed frantically back toward +the room where the others waited.</p> + +<p>And again Jerry Foster felt that odd tightening of disappointment +about his heart. But what was the difference, he told himself, in a +hundred years—or a hundred minutes. He set his lips tight and walked +slowly out and down the passage.</p> + +<p>The room he entered was deathly quiet. There were figures standing +about, figures robed in their gold-threaded drapes, that stared +strangely, wonderingly, at him, and drew themselves into a huddled +group against the wall. And two there were, who stood apart: the other +victims—their sacrificial garments wrapped them round where they +waited for the third who was to accompany them. Jerry joined them as a +guard came in from the outer hall.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he drums were rolling softly in their rhythmic beat. The priests who +entered showed annoyance at the delay; they gave a curt order, and +motioned the three to follow.</p> + +<p>Outside, the corridor was broad, and the double rows of lights on +either side glowed brightly to illumine a pageant grotesque and +terrible in its barbaric splendor. The drums throbbed louder. Jerry +saw them in their fire of burnished metal, beaten by the bands of +naked men. Beyond, a group of warriors waited. Stalwart and strongly +muscled, they stood erect in copper armor beside a platform of metal +bars, whose floor was of latticed gold. The victims were placed upon +it to stand erect. Jerry balanced himself upon the golden floor as the +warriors raised it slowly to their shoulders.</p> + +<p>Priests, in robes of heavy golden rope, were ranged about; they formed +a guard and escort ten deep about the living sacrifice. At that the +drums increased their volume, and to this was added a nerve-racking, +discordant and rasping jangle, when sheets of copper, paper-thin, were +struck with a heavy hand. The pulsing, throbbing pandemonium was +terrific as the march began.</p> + +<p>Slowly they made their way through a winding gallery. Slowly they came +to where a portal, high-arched, gave entrance upon the great hall. +Solemnly, proudly, the priests lead the way as they circled the vast +room. Their wrappings of gold were a scintillant quiver of light; +above each hard face a circle of gold—symbol of the sun—was borne +imperiously high.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he priestly guard surrounded the platform where the three standing +figures were huddled. And behind, and on either side, the men with the +drums and the discordant, ringing sheets gave full force to their +blows. The high vault above thundered and roared to the thunder and +roar of the drums. And, high over all, a wailing began.</p> + +<p>The thin shrillness beat with the tempo of the drums in a pitch that +steadily descended. The glittering procession had come to rest at its +appointed place in the pathway, of light as the wailing came down to a +moan. "<i>Oong! Oong!</i>" the voices groaned, while the walls re-echoed +the despairing tones. Only from the band of warriors did the ear of +Jerry Foster detect anything but misery and despair. The priests were +silent, but the warriors, in their shining armor, stood erect and +roared out the syllables in exultant joy.</p> + +<p>The priests were now upon the dais—the rocky platform, divided by the +great, glowing parabola of light. They stood erect as a new high +priest, replacing the one Jerry had killed, crossed to bow and grovel +in the radiance from their god.</p> + +<p>The room was silent with the silence of a great tomb as the march of +death began. Softly, from the silence, the drums resumed the merest +whisper of their former thunderous booming. Be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span>side him. Jerry heard +the soft sobs of a girl. One of the figures swayed and threatened to +fall as the platform was lowered to rest upon the floor. The other +pressed close to support the drooping figure.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div> +<p>ow the entire directed ray of light from the round, glowing hole +struck full upon them. It blinded and dazzled, yet, plain and +distinct, Jerry saw at its heart the circle of blackness, the eye of +the mysterious, hypnotic parabola—the entrance to what lay beyond.</p> + +<p>The beat of the drums was hypnotic. As if in a trance he saw, at the +side of the way they must go, the form of the head priest beckon them +on. The two victims at his side took one step on the path to their +death. And the same stiff rigidity held Jerry as he, too, moved onward +and up the golden ramp.</p> + +<p>The drums were bearing them on. Louder they throbbed in a steady +crescendo, to carry the three rigid figures a step at a time up the +pathway of light.</p> + +<p>The priest, Jerry felt more than saw, was beside them. Close ahead was +the blackness that held the set stare of his eyes. One of the golden +figures was before him. He saw the priest reach out to take the helmet +from her head.</p> + +<p>The movement aroused him from his numb horror. An impulse to escape +surged through him; every nerve was tense and ready for a spring. He +looked quickly about. The warriors were behind, the priests ready on +their platform to direct them. And in the doorway, from where he first +had seen this chamber, on the only way he knew that led to freedom, +another figure, tall in its priestly robes, blocked the passage.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>opeless, he knew. And then there swept through him a wave of hate. +Gone was his horror, and gone the dull deadness of brain and body. +There, facing him, was the mouth of the pit, where waited a +something—horrible, rapacious—demanding the lives of these people +... of Marahna ... of others—more and yet more.</p> + +<p>No thought now of life or escape. For the moment, Jerry Foster's whole +being held nothing but hot hate, and the wish for revenge.</p> + +<p>Before him the priest was stripping the robe from the girl at his +feet. She stood like a statue, a carving of purest alabaster, slim and +erect in her white, slender nakedness. And the face that he saw +through incredulous eyes was that of Marahna.</p> + +<p>Marahna! The realization and quick understanding held him spellbound. +She had come, had taken the robes from another poor victim ... to be +with him in this, the last hour....</p> + +<p>Marahna—a princess among these strange folk—was giving her life when +another could have been in her place. And she smiled tremulously, +bravely, as her eyes locked with his, as, speechless and spellbound, +he stared through the eyelets of gold.</p> + +<p>The priest was reaching for his head-dress, Jerry tensed. The moment +had come.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e was ready. As the weight left his shoulders, he dropped, with one +swift movement, his golden disguise. The robe fell in folds at his +feet. He stared in silence, through narrowing eyes, at the face of the +head priest above him. Then, leaping straight up, he fastened one +hand, sinewy, sun-browned and strong, on the white neck below the +white face. They crashed back, to land on the ramp and roll, +struggling, toward the edge.</p> + +<p>Jerry's hold never slackened. He felt his fingers sink deep in the +flesh. He came to his knees, then up, to hold the writhing figure at +arm's length. Then, heaving with all his strength, he whipped the man +into the air, to drag him in one leaping bound for the sheltering +darkness beyond.</p> + +<p>A figure was entering with him—a slim, naked figure, with glowing and +worshipping eyes.</p> + +<p>Behind them the silence was shat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span>tered. Jerry saw, as he stepped from +the light, the riot of figures that surged in hysterical frenzy +through the great hall. The priests were leaping among them ... the +tall priest who had guarded the door was fighting his way through the +mob.</p> + +<p>Jerry loosed his quivering hand from the throat it held. He cast the +figure from him. And he blinked his eyes to make them serve him in the +blackness all about.</p> + +<p>Beside him, a form, invisible in the dark, was stroking at his face, +and a voice was whispering tremulously: "Cherrie ... Cherrie!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he tumult in the great hall reached them but faintly. Jerry Foster +strove desperately to focus his eyes in that darkness of utter night. +A dim glow from the portal crept softly in to bring faint illumination +to the farther wall. Slowly his eyes found that which they feared yet +sought.</p> + +<p>Off in the dark, directly opposite the entrance, was a white and +ghostly thing. Formless and vague, it wavered and blurred to his +straining eyes. He fumbled clumsily for a match, one of his treasured +store. He must see—he must know what was waiting—</p> + +<p>The match flared to a point of brilliance in the murky gloom. It +showed, on the floor where they stood, a litter of dried +vegetation—food, doubtless placed there as an offering. It was dry +now, and dusty, and through it there shone the bleak whiteness of +bones. Beyond was the floor, and beyond that.... The whiteness that +had been but a blur grew sharply distinct.</p> + +<p>Jerry could not have told what he expected the light to disclose. +Certainly it was not the heaping of coils, milk-white and ghastly, +that took shape before his staring eyes. Above them a head hung in +air. It was motionless—lifeless, almost—like the coiled body that +held it. But the eyes, black and staring, in the bloated, bulging +head, made its poised stillness the more deadly.</p> + +<p>Even in the dark Jerry had sensed the hypnotic spell of unseen eyes. +Visible, they held him in a rigid, unreasoning terror. Unreal, +unthinkable, this serpentlike horror, tremendous and ghastly in its +loathsome whiteness. A dweller in the dark, used by the priests as a +symbol and a threat for the ignorant folk who trusted and believed +them. And it held him, stilled and stricken, in its evil spell.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he flame was scorching Jerry's hand that nervelessly opened to +release the match. The man was like a statue, frozen to mental +deadness. About his feet a light was playing, unseen. A bit of the dry +stuff sprang brightly to yellow flame. Neither seeing nor feeling, the +figure of Jerry Foster stood, held in the deadly magic of the +malignant eyes.</p> + +<p>Dimly he sensed that the prostrate body on the floor was that of +Marahna. Vaguely he knew when the form of the priest took a halting +step forward. The fire his match had kindled was rising about his +feet. The flames seared and stabbed with a pain that reached his +dulled brain. Quivering and shaken, the body of Jerry Foster reacted +again to a conscious thought. He leaped quickly as the deadly witchery +left him, and he tore at the smoldering cloth about his legs.</p> + +<p>And now he knew the thing before him for what it was. Shocking in its +gigantic size, more so in the concentrated venom of its gaze, it was +the flabby, scaly and crusted whiteness of the thing that filled his +being with a deadly nausea. He stared with a sickened fascination at +the flabby, drooping pouches beside the mouth, the distorted, bulging +head and the short legs, armed with long, curving talons—legs that +sprang from out the neck to clutch and tear at what the jaws might +hold.</p> + +<p>Deadly and hateful—loathsome beyond all imagining—still Jerry Foster +found it was something a man could meet. Its devilish power to +paralyze and still the soul of him was gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span></p> + +<p>He snatched quickly for the gun at his belt and knelt to aim—then +checked his finger on the trigger. The figure of the priest had come +between him and the monster.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he golden robe was dragging. It fell to the floor, to gleam dully in +the flickering light of the fire. Against the heaping coils of white +the priest was outlined, drawn, as Jerry sensed, against the protest +of every fiber of his being. Yet, one stiff step at a time, he went +faltering on. The hair above his white face was torn in disarray. And +the face itself, so exultantly fierce in its hour of triumph, now a +mask of quivering, hopeless terror.</p> + +<p>The head of the monster came slowly to life. It raised and raised into +the air. The mouth gaped open with a hoarse, sucking sound, then +struck, like a whip of light, at the doomed priest.</p> + +<p>His screams, as the thing descended upon him, rang through the roar of +the forty-five. Jerry fired again where the black eyes showed above +the writhing body of their prey. The head jerked backward, to tower in +the darkness overhead. The mouth disgorged its contents to the floor.</p> + +<p>Only for a shuddering instant did the monster pause. Then it launched +its great bulk in a counter-attack, while the automatic poured out the +rest of its futile lead.</p> + +<p>The gun was knocked from his grasp as the great head smashed past, +swerved from its aim by the blinding bullets. Jerry knew only that his +knife was in his hand as the great scabrous coils closed +inevitably about him.</p> + +<p>Vaguely he heard the shouting from behind as the writhing folds +engulfed him. He stabbed blindly at the scaly mass; again and again +his knife ripped slashingly at the abhorrence that drew him close. +Then his arm, too, was caught in the crushing loathsome embrace....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e felt no pain—the pressure alone was insufferable. His head was +drawn back. Above him the horrible eyes glared into his—there was +blood dripping from the jaws....</p> + +<p>He saw it in the brilliance of a light that flashed in blue heat +overhead. There came in his ears a vast roaring of sound, a great +heat-blast that scorched and burned at his face. The crushing pressure +was relaxed. He went reeling to the floor, as the great coils whirled +high into the air.</p> + +<p>He was stunned by the fall, his body inert and relaxed. But he knew +through it all that from somewhere above there was shrieking of +gas—blue, roaring fires—a flame that tore blastingly into a writhing +contortion beyond.</p> + +<p>The tall figure of a priest was bending over him, but it was the voice +of Winslow that was in his ears—a blessed, human voice—when he +awoke.</p> + +<p>"Thank God, I made it," the voice was saying, over and over. "Thank +God, I found the ship and got back here in time!"</p> + +<p>There was light within the cavern. The burning fungus was extinguished +by the smothering coils that had crashed upon it, but beyond was a +waving plume of yellow where a blue flame shot against a wall of rock.</p> + +<p>And Jerry, through the stress and riot of emotion that overwhelmed +him, laughed chokingly, wildly, at the words of his companion.</p> + +<p>"It is sodium," Winslow was saying in explanation, as he saw Jerry's +eyes resting on the light. "A hydrogen flame, but there's sodium in +the rocks that turns the flame yellow. I rigged up a flame-thrower of +hydrogen."</p> + +<p>"You would," Jerry gasped through hysterical laughter. "You would do +just that, and make your way back to this hell just to save me—you +damn fool inventor!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e clung to Winslow, who was raising him to his feet. Marahna was +beside him, robed in the golden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span> garment of the priest. She placed her +hands beside his face to turn him toward the further wall. The light +was fickle, but it showed him, as it rose and fell, the blackened, +swollen body of the monster, still writhing in its death struggle. And +beside it, blasted and charred, the head of the obscene sun god, +severed by the cutting, obliterating blast, lay flabby and black in a +silent heap.</p> + +<p>"Rather effective," said Winslow complacently, "though I didn't have +much to work with. Two small vials of my liquid and a hand generator +to furnish the current. A tubular strut from the frame of the ship +made the blow-pipe."</p> + +<p>"And these?" Jerry questioned, and pointed to the priest's vestments +that Winslow still wore.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was all quiet up above," said the inventor, "and I came down +the rope. But there was one of them waiting at the bottom. He didn't +need these any more when I left, so I took them to help get about—"</p> + +<p>He stopped, to cross quickly and pick up the flame-thrower as the +flame died away. It roared as he worked at the mechanism, then +dwindled again. Its light, for an instant, was reflected in a liquid +on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Broken!" said Winslow in an anguished voice. "The vials are +gone—smashed! And I counted on this to hold off the mob, to get us +safely out...."</p> + +<p>He regarded the instrument with silent dismay. The blue flame, as he +held it, flickered and died.</p> + +<p>"Not so good!" said Jerry slowly. He stopped to retrieve the knife. +This, he reflected, was their sole weapon of defense. In the dim light +his eyes met with Winslow's in mutual comprehension of their plight.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>here were caverns beyond, dark and forbidding. Did they lead to the +outer world? Or, instead, was it not probable that they went to some +deep, subterranean dens, from which this monster had learned to come +at the priests' summons? Jerry put from his mind all thought of escape +in that direction.</p> + +<p>"And Marahna, too," he told Winslow. "What will become of her?"</p> + +<p>The girl got the essence of the question. Fumbling for phrases that +they knew, she made them believe that she was safe. Her people, she +told them, would protect her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Jerry agreed. "I guess that's right. She's a princess, you +know," he reminded Winslow, "and the great mass of the people look up +to her. Only the priests and warrior gangs will be opposed. But how +can we get through them?"</p> + +<p>The question was unanswered.</p> + +<p>"We've got to knock them cold some way," said the inventor. "Got to +give them a fright that will last till they let us get through. Once +at the big shaft where we came down, we can make our getaway. But how +to do it...." His voice died away in dismal thought.</p> + +<p>Jerry's eyes were casting about. The priest's robe? No, not good +enough. It had brought Winslow through, but it couldn't take them +back. Marahna? No help there: she had enough to do to protect herself +from the fury of the priests.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>is eyes rested again on the steaming, blackened mass that still +showed the horrible features that had marked the head of the monster. +The sun god! There was an idea there.</p> + +<p>"Come!" he said to Winslow, and walked swiftly across to the severed +head.</p> + +<p>He had to steel his nerves before he could lay hands upon the vile +thing. The paws were still attached behind the head. He took a grip on +one and pulled. The great mass moved.</p> + +<p>"I don't get the idea," said Winslow.</p> + +<p>"Nor I," Jerry admitted, "but there's an idea here." His thoughts were +racing in the moment's silence.</p> + +<p>"I've got it," he shouted. "I've got it! If only I can make Marahna +under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span>stand!" He led the girl nearer to the door, where his signs +could be seen more plainly.</p> + +<p>"You," he told her, "go out there." He pointed to the place where the +priests had stood. "Tell your people"—he took the attitude of the +orator declaiming to his audience—"we have come here from the sun." +Again his signs were plain. Marahna nodded. This plainly was literal +truth to her.</p> + +<p>"Tell them," he continued earnestly, "we have saved them from this +thing. Tell them it was no sun god, but a monster that the priests had +kept. Monster!" he exclaimed, and pointed to the head and to the body +that still writhed and jerked spasmodically. "No god—no!" And again +the girl showed her understanding. Her eyes were glowing.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Jerry, indicating Winslow and himself, "we will take the +head that they have worshipped, and we'll drag it out and throw it to +the priests." His gestures were graphic. The girl nodded her head in +an ecstasy of comprehension.</p> + +<p>"And then," Jerry added softly for Winslow's hearing, "we'll beat it. +And, with luck, we'll make it safe."</p> + +<p>"There's a chance," said Winslow softly, "there's a chance—and that's +all we ask."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div> +<p>t's up to you, Marahna," Jerry told her. His words were meaningless, +but the tone sufficed. She drew herself proudly erect, wrapped herself +closely in the robe of braided gold, and stepped firmly and fearlessly +through the portal and down toward the platform of the priests.</p> + +<p>The two men watched from the shadows. Beyond the outline of the +platform they saw the warrior clans, a phalanx of protecting bodies. +And beyond, drawn back in huddled consternation, were masses of +white-faced people—Marahna's people—who listened, now, in wondering +silence to their princess.</p> + +<p>Marahna made her way slowly to the platform's edge. Of all the +countless ones to have gone that road, she was the first ever to +return. She stood silent, while her eyes found their way scornfully +over the enemy below. Then looking beyond them, she began to speak.</p> + +<p>Her soft voice echoed liquidly throughout the room. She gestured, and +Jerry knew that she was giving them the message.</p> + +<p>From the priests there came once a hoarse, inarticulate growl of hate +and unbelief. She silenced them with her hand. She pointed to the +heavens, and she told them of the sun and of the two who were true +children of the sun, who had come to save them from their false god.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>er voice rose as she told her people in impassioned tones that which +she had seen. And she was shouting above the tumult of the priests and +pointing directly at them as she made the roof echo with the message: +"<i>Oong devah! Oong devah!</i>"</p> + +<p>"The god is dead," translated Jerry. "<i>Devah</i> means death; she said +that of herself before we left. Come on!" he shouted, and laid-hold of +one great claw. "It's our turn now."</p> + +<p>Winslow was tugging at the other foot. Between them they dragged into +the light the obscene burden. Down the long ramp they took it and off +upon the platform of the priests, where Marahna waited.</p> + +<p>The priests, as Jerry's quick glance showed, were milling wildly +about. It seemed that a charge was soon to follow, but the commotion +ceased as the two men come upon the platform, hauling between them the +great scorched head of "Oong." The vast hall was without movement or +sound as they made their way out to the front. Jerry stood erect and +faced the crowd.</p> + +<p>He pointed, as had Marahna, toward the sun somewhere above those thick +masses of rock; he traced it in its course across the sky; he pointed +to Winslow and himself. And in loudest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span> tones he roared throughout the +room his message. "Oong," he shouted, "<i>Oong devah!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I'll count three," he whispered in the utter silence. "Then let 'er +go!"</p> + +<p>Again he took a firm hold on the flabby paw.</p> + +<p>"One," he whispered, and swung his body with the word. "Two ... and +<i>three</i>!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he men heaved mightily upon the gruesome horror. The head swung +ghastly in scorched whiteness into the air. The dead jaws fell open as +it crashed downward among the huddled, stricken priests.</p> + +<p>"This way!" commanded Winslow. He had been carefully appraising the +openings in the crowd. "And don't hurry! Remember, you're a god to +them—or something a darn sight worse."</p> + +<p>Heads proudly erect, the two strode firmly down the pathway of golden +light. The room was silent as the few they met fell back in cringing +fear. Slowly, interminably, the long triumphal march was made across +the rocky cavern of the moon.</p> + +<p>Not till they reached the portal did the silence break. The shrieks of +the priests and the clashing of copper were behind them, as they +vanished with steady steps from out the room.</p> + +<p>"Now run!" ordered Winslow. "Run as if the devils from hell were after +you—and I think they are!" The two tore madly down the corridor whose +double rows of brightness made possible their utmost speed.</p> + +<p>There was the narrowing of the passage—Jerry remembered it—where +they came out at the foot of the great shaft, the dead throat of the +volcano. Behind them the shrieks and clamor echoed close. A rope was +dangling from far up at the top.</p> + +<p>Jerry leaped for it before he recalled the condition of his arm. In +the excitement of the encounter he had forgotten that the arm was +still in no shape for a long hand-over-hand climb.</p> + +<p>"I can't make it," he said, and looked about quickly. There were +baskets of fungus growth, already dried from the heat of the mid-day +sun that had shone where it grew. He dragged one to the narrow part of +the tunnel. Winslow tugged at another and threw it up as a barricade. +A chalk-white figure in copper sheathing was clambering upon it as he +worked at another of the nets.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="33" height="50" /></div> +<p>erry let go the fiber basket he was dragging and drew his knife as he +sprang to meet the assault. A sharp cutting edge was unknown to these +workers in copper. Jerry slipped under the raised bludgeoning copper +weapon to plunge the knife into a white throat. Then, without a look +at the body he helped Winslow, struggling with another load.</p> + +<p>They completed the barricade. A heap of fungus made a raised place +where Jerry leaped. Commanding the top of the pile that blocked the +choked throat of the passage, he was ready for the next figure that +leaped wildly up.</p> + +<p>It would take them a while, Jerry saw, to learn of this scintillant +death that struck at them from close quarters. His knife flashed again +and again as he took the men one at a time and let their limp bodies +roll back to the passage beyond.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he assault was checked when Jerry shouted to his companion. "Tie the +rope around me," he ordered, "up under my arms ... then you go on up. +When you get there pull up—and for the Lord's sake pull fast!"</p> + +<p>"Go on," he shouted. "I can hold them for a while—" He turned swiftly +to take a leaping body upon the red point of his knife.</p> + +<p>He felt the rope about him as he fought, knew by its twitching when +Winslow started the long climb, and prayed dumbly for strength to hold +his weak fortress till the other could hoist himself up to the top.</p> + +<p>He was fighting blindly as they came on in endless succession, the +figures of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span> frenzied priests leaping grotesquely beyond. Only the +strategic position he had taken allowed him to turn the wild assault +again and again. They could only reach him by ones and twos, but the +end must come soon. There were priests tearing at the foot of the +barricade.... The cold winds that came down from above revived him, +but it helped the figures ripping at the fiber cords. The dry fungus +fragments whirled gaily away and down the passage in the wind.</p> + +<p>The wind! The draft was blowing from him, directly upon his attackers. +Jerry struggled and clinched with another that bounded beside him, and +knew as he fought that a weapon was at hand. His knife found the lower +edge of copper, and the figure screamed as he rolled it down the +slope. He slipped the knife into his left hand as he fumbled with his +right.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>is precious matches! He struck one on the rock; it broke in his +trembling fingers. Another—there were so few left. He drew it with +infinite care on the surface of rock. The figures below tore in frenzy +at the weakening barricade, while yet others stood waiting at this +sign of some new form of magic.</p> + +<p>They shouted again, as they had when, those long days ago, he had +lighted a cigarette before their horrified gaze. Jerry shielded the +tiny blaze in his hand to bring it beneath a papery leaf beside him.</p> + +<p>The flame flashed and dwindled. He dared not drop back to set fire to +the base of the heap. But even in the exhaustion and strain of the +moment Jerry Foster still knew the value of the showman's tricks in +reaching the fears of these white-faced fighters.</p> + +<p>With grandiloquent gesture he raised another of the tindery fragments +and ignited it from the first. Another, and he had the beginning of a +fire. He lit another piece, and, when he had it blazing, dropped it +behind him and kept on with the show.</p> + +<p>A large piece became a flaming torch, and he waved it before him and +laughed to see the warriors cringe. A cloud of smoke was billowing +about him—he leaped to safety through a rising wall of flame.</p> + +<p>The rear slope of the barricade became a furnace; the wind behind him +swept the smoke clouds down the passage. He heard, and sank back +weakly on the ground as it came to him, the screaming riot where a mob +of terrified warriors fought and struck to turn the horde that +clamored behind them and pushed them on. The blast roared over the +heaped fuel and poured downward from the crest. The noise of the +retreat went silent in the distance.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>pent and exhausted, Jerry Foster lay panting upon the stone floor. +The breath of cold and life came down the long shaft from the crater. +Had Winslow gained the top? Was he equal to the climb? Jerry hardly +felt the jerking of the rope about his shoulders, but he knew as, in +frantic haste, it drew him scraping up the long side of the shaft.</p> + +<p>The biting cold above revived him, and again a scene of desolation was +spread before his eyes. Winslow fumbled with the knots and released +him from the rope.</p> + +<p>"Come on!" he shouted, and extended a helping hand as they leaped and +raced across the rocky floor.</p> + +<p>Jerry again was vividly, strongly alive as the cold winds swept him. +He leaped hugely through the whirling wisps of dried out +vegetation—the sun had stripped the surface of every living thing. +Again the rocky slopes rose naked in the rosy light of evening. The +sun was hidden below a distant range of jagged hills. The long night +was begun.</p> + +<p>"You're going the wrong way," Jerry shouted. "We left it over there." +He stopped to point where the sun had set. "See, that's where we +fought the beasts—"</p> + +<p>"Come on!" repeated Winslow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span> "Hurry! We mustn't lose out now. I flew +the ship over this way while I was up here before."</p> + +<p>A ridge of rock cut off the view where Winslow pointed. "Bully for +you!" Jerry shouted and turned to follow. They stopped as the slope +ahead, from its multitude of honeycomb caverns, erupted men.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he priests were ahead, and behind them swarmed their men. Vindictive +and revengeful, the wily enemy was fighting to the end. The two +stopped in consternation.</p> + +<p>"What's the use!" demanded Jerry. His voice was tired, utterly +hopeless. "And the ship's right over there...."</p> + +<p>"A million miles away," said Winslow slowly, "as far as we're +concerned." The army was sweeping down the long slope: they had found +their quarry. There were other figures, too, pouring from the throat +of the volcano—white, naked figures that swarmed in growing numbers +and rushed across upon them from the rear.</p> + +<p>"Trapped," said Jerry Foster savagely, "and we almost made it." He +rose wearily to his feet. "We'll take it standing."</p> + +<p>The armored warriors were approaching; in leaping triumph they raced +to be the first ones at the death. The shouts of the priests were +ringing encouragement in their ears.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div> +<p>ut the leaders from the rear were nearer. One deep breath Jerry drew +as he turned to meet them. Then stared, astonished, as the figures +swept past. They streamed by in confusion. They were armed with rocks, +with clubs or copper metal—some even carried bars of gold above their +heads. They came in a great swarm that swept past and beyond them. And +they met, like an engulfing wave, the bounding figures of the men in +copper. Smothered and lost were the warriors in the horde that poured +increasingly on.</p> + +<p>The wave, before Jerry's eyes, swept on over the crest, while he still +stood in amazed unbelief at the battle that raged.</p> + +<p>It was Marahna who brought understanding. He turned to see her kneel +in sobbing, thankful abasement at his feet.</p> + +<p>Marahna! Her people! She had saved them! There was time needed for the +full force of the truth to banish the hopeless despair from his heart. +Then he stooped to raise the crouching figure with arms that were +suddenly strong.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he pale rose light of the departed sun above shone softly within a +rocky valley of the moon. It tipped the tall crags with lavender hues, +and it touched with soft gleaming reflections a blunted cylinder of +aluminum alloy.</p> + +<p>The valley was silent, save for the hushed whispers of wondering +thousands who peopled the enclosing hills, and the rushing roar from +the cylinder itself where the inventor was testing his machine.</p> + +<p>There were figures in priestly robes—scores of them—and they were +surrounded by a white throng that, silent and watchful, held them +captive.</p> + +<p>Beyond, in the open, where bare rock made a black rolling floor, there +were two who stood alone. The golden figure of a girl, and beside her, +Jerry Foster, in wordless indecision.</p> + +<p>Behind him was the ship. Its muffled thunder came softly to his +unheeding ears. He looked at the girl steadily, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Gone was all trace of her imperious dignity. The Princess Marahna was +now all woman. And Jerry, looking into her dark eyes, read plainly the +yearning and adoration in their depths. The Princess Marahna had +forgotten her deference to the god in her love for the man. The tale +was told in her flushed face, openly, unashamed.</p> + +<p>And his gray eyes were thoughtful and tender as he gazed into hers. He +was thinking, was Jerry Foster, of many things. And he was weighing +them carefully. His hand clasped and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span> unclasped at something safely +hidden in his pocket. He had taken it from his pack; he had wanted +something for Marahna, something she would treasure.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>nd now she was offering him herself. He could take her with him, take +her to that far-off world that she never dreamed existed. He could +show her the things of that world, its wonders and beauties. He could +train her in its ways. He would watch over her, love her.... And she +would be miserable and heartsick for the sight of this awful +desolation. He knew it—he told himself it was the truth—and he hated +himself for the telling.</p> + +<p>The voice of Winslow aroused him. The inventor had come from his ship. +"We had better be starting," he said.</p> + +<p>The slim figure of the girl in her robe of pure gold trembled visibly. +She knew, it was plain, the import of the words. She spoke rapidly, +beseechingly, in her own tongue. The words were liquid music in the +air. Then, realizing their impotence, she resorted to her poor +vocabulary of their own strange sounds.</p> + +<p>"No!" she said, and shook her head vehemently. "No—no!"</p> + +<p>She motioned to wait, and she called loud and clear across the silence +to her own people. There was a stir about the priests. One in the +robes and head-dress of the high priest was brought forward, led by +two others of her men. They stopped a few steps from her and bowed +low.</p> + +<p>Again she called, and the leaders among the vast throng came, too, and +made their obeisance before her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>he turned then to Jerry. And now it was Marahna, Princess of the +Moon, who stood quiet and poised before him. The light, he saw, made +soft wavelets of radiance in her hair, and her eyes were still glowing +and tender. She stepped forward toward the priest.</p> + +<p>The helmet of the sun god was upon his head. It marked him, Jerry +knew, as the master of their world. True, they had bowed in +submission to that other master, whose vile head lay horrible and +harmless on the floor of the great hall—they had believed in the +commands the priests had pretended to receive from him—but this +emblem on the helmet marked the leader of the race, the master of this +world, for these simple folk.</p> + +<p>Marahna reached her slim hands and lifted the thing of gold. She +turned, and held it above the startled eyes of Jerry Foster, and she +placed it upon his head with all the dignity that became a queen. A +word from her, and the men before him dropped in humbleness to the +ground. The Princess Marahna was among them in honoring salutation to +their king.</p> + +<p>Jerry was beyond speech. Not so Winslow. "It looks to me," he said +dryly, "as if you were being offered the kingdom of the earth—I mean +the moon. Think it over, Jerry—think it over."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div> +<p>nd Jerry Foster thought it over, deeply and soberly. He could rule +this people, he and Marahna, rule in peace and quiet and comfort. He +could bring them knowledge and wisdom of infinite help; he could make +their new civilization a measure of advancement for a whole race. He +could teach them, train them, instruct them. And he and Marahna—there +would be children who would be princes born—could be happy—for a +time. And then ... and then he would be old. Old and lonely for his +kind, hungering and longing for his own people. As Marahna would be on +earth, so would he be here....</p> + +<p>His decision was formed. And with it he knew he must not hurt the +heart of Marahna. She loved him, Jerry Foster, the man. He must leave +her as Jerry Foster, the god, child of the sun. He stood suddenly to +his full height, and who shall say that for a moment the man did not +approach the stature of divinity—for he was wholly kind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span></p> + +<p>He placed a hand upon the head of the kneeling girl before him. He +held her in her submissive pose, then, turning to the waiting men, he +spoke in measured tones.</p> + +<p>"I thank you," he said, and the words came from a full heart, "but my +place is not here. I leave with you one more worthy."</p> + +<p>Before their wondering gaze he removed the glowing circlet from his +head; he leaned to place it on the head of Marahna, humbled before +him. With strong hands he raised her to her feet. His look, so tender +yet reserved, was full of meaning. She followed his every sign.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>e waved once toward the sun, hidden behind the distant hills: he +pointed again to Winslow and himself and to their shining ship: and +again he marked the going of the sun. His meaning was plain—these +children of the sun must return to their far-off home.</p> + +<p>He turned now to Marahna. In his hand was the object he had taken from +his pack. It was a treasured thing, this locket of platinum on its +thin and lacy chain; it had been his mother's, and he thought of her +now as he opened the clasp to show his own face framed within the +oval. His mother—she had worn this. And she would have approved, he +knew, of its disposal.</p> + +<p>Gravely he faced Marahna. He showed her the picture within the case, +then held it aloft where all might see. He closed it and taught her +the pressure that released the spring. Then, with gentle dignity that +made of the gesture a rite, he placed the chain about the neck of +Princess Marahna—Queen, now, of the People of the Moon. And he knew +that he gave into her keeping their only relic of a being from the +sun. It marked her beyond all future question with a symbol of +mastery. And it made of him a god.</p> + +<p>And even a queen may not aspire to such an one.</p> + +<p>It was well that Winslow's hand was there to guide him as he walked +with unseeing eyes toward the ship.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>ime may lose at times all meaning and measure—moments become +timeless. It seemed ages to Jerry Foster when Winslow spoke in casual +tones. "I'm going straight up," he said, above the generator's roar. +"Then we'll swing around above the other side. We'll follow the +sun—make the full circle of the moon before we start."</p> + +<p>But Jerry neither thought nor heard. His eyes were close to a window +of thick glass. Below him was a shrinking, dwindling landscape, +wind-swept and desolate.</p> + +<p>There was a multitude of faces, turned worshipping toward the sky. On +one, who stood apart in tiny loneliness, his vision centered. He +watched and strained his aching eyes until the figure was no more. +Only the pale rose of a dying sun, and a torn, volcanic waste that +tugged strangely at his heart.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered mechanically, "yes, we'll go round with the sun ... +a couple of sun gods."</p> + +<p>He laughed strangely as he regarded his companion.</p> + +<p>If Winslow wondered at the weariness in the voice he made no sign. He +was busy with a rheostat that made thunderous roaring of the blast +behind their ship: that swung them in a sweeping arc through velvet +skies, away from the far side of the moon, to follow the path of the +setting sun—homeward bound.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_013.jpg" width="600" height="548" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="The_Readers_Corner" id="The_Readers_Corner"></a><i>The Readers' Corner</i></h2> + +<h3><i>A Meeting Place for Readers of</i> Astounding Stories</h3> + +<h2>The Readers' Corner</h2> + +<p class="p1">"<i>Second Better Than First</i>"</p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>The second number of Astounding Stories is better than the +first. "Spawn of the Stars," by Charles Willard Diffin, was +the best story, closely followed by "Creatures of the +Light," by Sophie Wenzel Ellis and "The Beetle Horde," by +Victor Rousseau. I like stories of vibration as in "Mad +Music," and of acceleration, as in "The Thief of Time." I am +glad to see Harl Vincent in the pages of Astounding Stories. +I have read many good stories by him. Interplanetary stories +are my favorites, and the more you have of them the better.</p> + +<p>I wish that you would put Astounding Stories out twice a +month or put out a quarterly containing twice as much +reading material as the monthly. In this you could put one +book-length novel and a few shorter stories.</p> + +<p>Are you going to start a department containing the readers' +letters soon?—Jack R. Darrow, 4225 N. Spaulding Avenue, +Chicago, Ill.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1"><i>Size and Paper</i></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I certainly am glad to see your magazine appear on the +newsstands. I also view with appreciation the fact that you +have such brilliant authors as Harl Vincent and Captain S. +P. Meek, U. S. A., on your list of contributors. Your +stories are of the very highest value in the line of Science +Fiction. However, I did not like "The Corpse on the +Grating." It did not have an inkling of scientific +background. I really am surprised it was published in a +Science Fiction magazine. Aside from the fact that the idea +of the story was merely a fantastical surmise I was very +favorably impressed with the author's style and his use of +the English language.</p> + +<p>Why don't you try for some more of the works of the other +well-known authors in this line of fiction?</p> + +<p>My main object in writing this letter was that I think you +rub the name of Science Fiction in the dust by printing it +on such paper and in such a small magazine. If you intend to +compete with your several contemporaries, you will almost +have to alter your size and quality of your paper.</p> + +<p>You might include a full page Illustration for each story +also, but, you will admit, that to combat these other +influential Science Fiction magazines, you will have to put +your magazine on a par materially with the others in your +line.</p> + +<p>I admire the type of stories which you publish and want to +see your magazine get ahead.—Warren Williams, 545 +Dorchester, Chicago, Illinois.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="p1"><i>They Will!</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I am a monthly reader of your Astounding Stories and I am +greatly interested in them.</p> + +<p>The best story I have so far read is "Creatures of the +Light." It is a story of Super-science indeed. If the author +of this story would write more like it, I am sure they would +be greatly appreciated.</p> + +<p>Here is hoping that more of their kind appear in the very +near future. Yours for more good stories.—Quenton Stockman, +245 Dixon Street, Portland, Oregon.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Surpasses the First</i>"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I have just finished the February issue of your magazine. It +surpasses the first issue by far. I am glad to see that you +have eight stories in this issue. That is just enough. I +like one serial (not too long), one or two novelettes, and +five or six short stories in each issue. Tell Captain S. P. +Meek to write more adventures of Dr. Bird.</p> + +<p>I have arranged the stories of the first two issues +according to my own liking. Excellent: "The Beetle Horde" +and "Phantoms of Reality." Good: "The Care of Horror," +"Tanks" and "Invisible Death." Fair: "The Stolen Mind" and +"Compensation."</p> + +<p>In the second issue: Excellent: "Creatures of the Light," +"Old Crompton's Secret," "The Beetle Horde" and "Spawn of +the Stars." Good: "The Thief of Time" and "Mad Music." Fair: +"The Corpse on the Grating" and "Into Space."</p> + +<p>I hope there will be more stories under "Excellent" next +month—Ward Elmore, 2012 Avenue J, Ft. Madison, Ia.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Only One Trouble</i>—"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I have just finished reading your new magazine and think +it's great. The only trouble with it is that it doesn't have +enough stories.</p> + +<p>I liked "Phantoms of Reality," by Ray Cummings, best, and +"The Cave of Horror," by Capt. S. P. Meek, next best. "The +Beetle Horde," and "Tanks" were also good.</p> + +<p>Ray Cummings and S. P. Meek are among my favorite Science +Fiction authors.</p> + +<p>I like best interplanetary stories and stories of the +aircraft of the future. I would like to see a good +interplanetary story by R. H. Romans in this magazine pretty +soon.</p> + +<p>Other good authors whose stories I would like to read are: +Dr. David H Keller, Dr. Miles J. Breuer, Lilith Lorraine, Ed +Earl Repp and Walter Kateley.</p> + +<p>In your editorial you mention the fact that some day in the +future a person can disintegrate his body in New York and +reintegrate it in China. I would like to see a good story +about that by either Ray Cummings or S.P. Meek.</p> + +<p>Something else: why not make your magazine a little bigger +and include a scientific article or two once in a while?—J. +W. Latimer, 1000 East 8th Street, National City, Calif.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>No Horror Stories</i>"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I am taking this opportunity to let you know what I think of +Astounding Stories. The worst fault is the tendency to print +terror stories. Please don't do this. If I never see another +story like "The Corpse on the Grating" in your magazine it +will be too soon.</p> + +<p>Don't print so many detective stories. Capt. Meek's splendid +stories are plenty. Please start a discussion column and put +Wesso's drawings inside the magazine, too.</p> + +<p>Are you planning on any reprints? I would like to see some +reprints of Ray Cummings', A. Merritt's, H. G. Wells', +Garret Smith's and George A. England's stories soon.</p> + +<p>"Phantoms of Reality," "The Beetle Horde," "The Cave of +Horror," "Into Space," "Creatures of the Light," and "Old +Crompton's Secret" were splendid.</p> + +<p>I hope for fewer detective stories and no horror +stories.—Joe Stone, 123 20th Street, Toledo, Ohio.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1"><i>We Liked It, Too!</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>Just a line to tell you that I bought my first copy of +Astounding Stories and they certainly are good, especially +"Creatures of the Light," by Sophie Wenzel Ellis. It's the +best short story I've read in ages. I hope to read more by +her in the future. Yours for success.—F. J. Michaslow, +Battery "D," Ft. Hancock, N. J.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Strikes a Mystic Chord</i>"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I think that your Astounding Story Magazine is a fine +magazine. It seems to strike a mystic cord within me and +makes me respond to it.</p> + +<p>One thing lacking—I believe, that is—a department for +letters from your readers.</p> + +<p>"Spawn of the Stars" is certainly a fine scientific story.</p> + +<p>I wish that the author of "Into Space" would write a sequel +to his story.—Ronald Bainbridge, Rockford, Illinois.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1"><i>We're Avoiding Reprints</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I am writing again about Astounding Stories. It seems more +people are interested in science to-day than ever before, +and an easy and interesting way to gain this knowledge is +through reading an entertaining science story.</p> + +<p>Regarding stories in your February issue, will list them +according to my likes and dislikes. "Into Space" and "Mad +Music" contained science maybe not impossible in the future. +"Spawn of the Stars," "The Beetle Horde," "Creatures of the +Light," "The Thief of Time" and "Old Compton's Secret" were +very interesting science, and good reading, but "The Corpse +on the Grating" did not appeal to me.</p> + +<p>I like interplanetary stories and stories of what might be +on other planets.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span></p> + +<p>I notice some familiar names among your authors. Why not +print some (not too many) stories from H. G. Wells, E. R. +Burroughs and Jules Verne? Some of their stories which were +considered just wild dreams of the author at the time of +writing have actually become a reality, as, for instance, +the submarine. If you keep on as you started or improve I +can see only success—C. E. Anderson, 3504 Colfax Avenue +South, Minneapolis, Minn.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1"><i>A Few Favorites</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I am an electrical engineer. I read the last two issues of +your magazine. I liked it very much. It is thrilling and +very well edited. I will buy it regularly.</p> + +<p>I liked "Invisible Death" best. "The Beetle Horde" was good, +"Phantoms of Reality," good. "Into Space" and "Mad Music," +very good. "Creatures of the Light," "Old Crompton's Secret" +and "Spawn of the Stars," good.—Adolph Wasserrogel, Gedden +Terrace, Waterbury, Conn.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Going Some!</i>"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I purchased one of your magazines when I first saw them. I +always had a liking for Super-science stories, but your +magazine was the best I ever got hold of. Thought I could +never wait until the next issue to finish "The Beetle +Horde." I believe "The Cave of Horror" was the best story in +that issue. It really seemed as if it could be true.</p> + +<p>Due respect must be paid the author of "The Corpse on the +Grating," for it was exciting and fantastic. "Phantoms of +Reality" was good.</p> + +<p>All the stories in the second magazine seemed as good as the +best of the first number, and that's going some.</p> + +<p>May you succeed in getting the same good and better stories +as you have in the first two issues of a magazine that I am +sure will grow to fame.—Harold Rakestraw, Box 25, Winthop, +Wash.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1"><i>We Intend To</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>Having read the first two issues of your new magazine, I +find it has a larger variety of stories than any of the +other Science Fiction magazines now found on the newsstands. +Why not keep it that way? It will be unique.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wessolowski, your artist, is great. He is one who can +draw when it comes to a good scientific background.</p> + +<p>I consider "Tanks" your best story as yet, with "Spawn of +the Stars" close second. "Invisible Death," "Creatures of +the Light" and "Mad Music" were also good. Try to give us +some stories by Edgar Rice Burroughs and A. Merritt. Did not +think much of "The Beetle Horde"—too many like it—Ted +Shatkowski, 812 Hoffman St., Hammond, Ind.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1"><i>Some Good Suggestions</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I received the pleasure of purchasing a copy of Astounding +Stories the other day, the first copy I have seen. I have +not yet read it, but I am unable to wait that long to inform +you of my great joy in greeting a new magazine of this type.</p> + +<p>I am a reader of other magazines similar to A. S., Stories +of Harl Vincent, Capt. S. P. Meek, Murray Leinster, and +others appear in these magazines, also, so I am familiar +with your authors.</p> + +<p>But you have asked me what sort of stories I'd like to see +in A. S., so here goes. First of all, I would earnestly beg +you not to print such stories as those that deal with +ghosts, etc., because in my opinion there are far too many +good stories available to cast them aside for trash.</p> + +<p>The type of story I prefer is the kind that is fanciful, odd +and interesting. Some tales deal with a new invention of +some sort, but contain no action or plot. However, I fail to +see any like that in the present A. S., unless it's "Mad +Music."</p> + +<p>A few utterly impossible stories are so interestingly told +that it is worth while to publish them. Some examples are +stories by A. Merritt (whose stories are the most +fascinating I have ever read). H. P. Lovecraft (master of +the bizarre and the grotesque) and G. A. England.</p> + +<p>My letter seems to be mostly composed of suggestions, but +that is only because I am interested in anything pertaining +to stories of imagination, or Science Fiction, as it is +called. However, Astounding Stories seems to be very +satisfying to me. I am glad that you have Wessolowski on +your artist's staff. I hope that you will have a story +contest some time in the future, as they are very +interesting, and often uncover hitherto unknown talent in +the contestants.</p> + +<p>I sincerely wish you the utmost of success in Astounding +Stories and hope that it will live a long, enduring life.</p> + +<p>I hope, as time goes on, you will favor us with more +illustrations, for this type of story needs a large amount +of drawings so that the readers won't overwork their +imaginations.</p> + +<p>Astounding Stories seems to be very shy, for I heard of it +from a friend and got the February, 1930 issue only after an +exhaustive search. The place where I got it appears to be +about the only one in town selling it. I hope more stores +will handle your great magazine. (I didn't intend the words +"great magazine" to be sarcastic. I really think it's +great!)</p> + +<p>I hope you will have a department in which the readers may +discuss the merits or lacks of stories published. Or at +least print excerpts now and then.</p> + +<p>Enclosed find twenty cents in stamps for which please send +me the first issue.—A. W. Bernal, 1374 E. 32 Street, +Oakland, Calif.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Stories I Like Best</i>—"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>The stories I like best in your Astounding Stories of +Super-science were "The Beetle Horde" by Victor Rousseau, +"The Cave of Horror," by Capt. S. P. Meek, "Compensation," +by C. V. Tench, "Invisible Death," by Anthony Pelcher. I +have just bought your second copy of Astounding Stories. I +like the book very much, and expect to buy it every +month—Issac Dworkowits, 1262 Valentine Avenue, Bronx, N. Y.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Just What Is Needed</i>"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I have read the first two copies of your new magazine and I +would like to make a few comments and criticisms. This +magazine is very popular in my community and is just what is +needed to instill scientific interest in the mind of the +general public. Science Fiction will arouse more interest +and will be read by more people than any amount of dry +science and cold facts. Since you would like to have a +reader's opinion, I will say that "The Beetle Horde" is the +best story that I have read in a long time and was based on +the most excellent science; "The Thief of Time" was good; +try to get some more stories by Capt. S. P. Meek; one in +every copy would not be too many. I could not get all "het +up" over "Spawn of the Stars," it was a little vague; I do +not think the author had a very distinct idea about the +nature of the invaders.</p> + +<p>The stories do not have to stick to cold science, but should +not violate an established fact without a reasonable +explanation, as this might cause a mistaken idea in the +minds of the readers. A few good authors are: Dr. Keller, A +Hyatt Verrill, Walter Kately and R. H. Romans.—Wayne Bray, +Campbell, Missouri.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Literature That Typifies New Age</i>"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>As a member of an organization whose existence was founded +through the medium of Science Fiction, I have watched your +magazine closely, and here are the results:</p> + +<p>It is all Science Fiction, virile, interesting and new.</p> + +<p>A popular edition of these stories with the name of a great +publishing house behind it.</p> + +<p>The authors you have acquired are supreme in this field. Ray +Cummings and Captain Meek need no introduction. And Harl +Vincent is a notable addition whose stories of "Indefinite +Extension" and interplanetary travel are well known to +Science Fiction fans.</p> + +<p>Science Fiction, first introduced by Verne, Poe, Wells, +Haggard and other old masters in this line, is a type of +literature that typifies the new age to come—the age of +science. And, in conclusion, may I say that the Science +Correspondence Club extends to your new and most acceptable +publication heartiest wishes for continued and increasing +success. I subscribe myself to the advancement of science +and Science Fiction.—Walter P. Dennis, F. P. S., 4653 +Addison Street, Chicago, Ill.</p></div> + + +<p class="p1">"<i>Keep Up the Good Work</i>"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p> + +<p>I have just completed the perusal of the first issue of +Astounding Stories and am immensely pleased. I am a high +school senior, and though have only a rudimentary knowledge +of science, the subject impresses me and I am eager to gain +new facts and food for thought.</p> + +<p>I compliment you on securing the services of such writers of +scientifiction as Ray Cummings, Harl Vincent, and R. F. +Starzl. They are good! Ray Cummings' impressive style, his +vivid imagination, and his knowledge of his subject seem to +me invincible. His stories are always welcome.</p> + +<p>Now, concerning the services of other writers of Science +Fiction, I think the majority of the readers would be well +pleased with the following list: Edgar Rice Burroughs, A. +Hyatt Verrill, H.G. Wells, David H. Keller, Otis Adelbert +Kline and Stanton Coblentz. The above mentioned, I am sure, +would greatly please your readers. I believe it would +greatly improve the circulation of your magazine to try to +secure the services of such writers (especially E. R. +Burroughs).</p> + +<p>I am greatly interested in the future of your magazine and +wish it every bit of luck in the world. You have made an +astounding start. Keep up the good work.—A. G. Jaweett, +Jr., 132 Murdock Avenue, Asheville, N.C.</p></div> + + +<h3>"<i>The Readers' Corner</i>"</h3> +<p>All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "come +over in 'The Readers' Corner'" and join in our monthly discussion of +stories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities—everything +that's of common interest in connection with our Astounding Stories.</p> + +<p>Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, this +is a department primarily for <i>Readers</i>, and we want you to make full +use 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!</p> + +<p class="p2">—<i>The Editor.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories of Super-Science, +June, 1930, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 29848-h.htm or 29848-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/4/29848/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Astounding Stories of Super-Science, June, 1930 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 30, 2009 [EBook #29848] +Last updated: March 20, 2011 +Last updated: May 26, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + ASTOUNDING + + STORIES + + OF SUPER-SCIENCE + + _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_ 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-NOVELS +MONTHLY, WIDE WORLD ADVENTURES, ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, +RANGELAND LOVE STORY MAGAZINE, WESTERN ADVENTURES, and FOREST AND STREAM. + + +_More Than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demand +for Clayton Magazines._ + + * * * * * + + + + +VOL. II, No. 3 CONTENTS JUNE, 1930 + + +COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSOLOWSKI + + _Painted in Water-colors from a Scene in "The Moon Master."_ + + +OUT OF THE DREADFUL DEPTHS C. D. WILLARD 293 + _Robert Thorpe Seeks Out the Nameless Horror That Is Sucking All Human + Life Out of Ships in the South Pacific._ + + +MURDER MADNESS MURRAY LEINSTER 310 + _Bell, of the Secret "Trade," Strikes into the South American Jungle to + Find the Hidden Stronghold of the Master--the Unknown Monster Whose + Diabolical Poison Swiftly and Surely Is Enslaving the Whole + Continent._ (Part Two of a Continued Novel.) + + +THE CAVERN WORLD JAMES P. OLSEN 340 + + _A Great Oil Field Had Gone Dry--and Asher, Trapped Far under the Earth + Among the Revolting Petrolia, Learns Why._ + + +BRIGANDS OF THE MOON RAY CUMMINGS 352 + + _The Besieged Earth-men Wage Grim, Ultra-scientific War with Martian + Bandits in a Last Great Struggle for Their Radium-ore--and Their + Lives._ (Conclusion.) + + +GIANTS OF THE RAY TOM CURRY 368 + + _Madly the Three Raced for their Lives up the Shaft of the Radium Mine, + for Behind Them Poured a Stream of Hideous Monsters--Giants of the + Ray!_ + + +THE MOON MASTER CHARLES W. DIFFIN 384 + + _Through Infinite Deeps of Space Jerry Foster Hurtles to the Moon--Only + to be Trapped by a Barbaric Race and Offered as a Living Sacrifice to + Oong, their Loathsome, Hypnotic God._ (A Complete Novel.) + + +THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 421 + + _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. +Entered as second-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office at +New York. N.Y., under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a +Trade Mark in the U.S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men's +List. For advertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co., Inc., 25 +Vanderbilt Ave., New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave., Chicago. + + + + +Out of the Dreadful Depths + +_By C. D. Willard_ + +[Illustration: "_Help--help--the eyes--the eyes!_"] + +[Sidenote: Robert Thorpe seeks out the nameless horror that is sucking +all human life out of ships in the South Pacific.] + + +Robert Thorpe reached languidly for a cigarette and, with lazy +fingers, extracted a lighter from his pocket. + +"Be a sport," he repeated to the gray haired man across the table. "Be +a sport, Admiral, and send me across on a destroyer. Never been on a +destroyer except in port. It ... would be a new experience ... enjoy +it a lot...." + +In the palm-shaded veranda of this club-house in Manila, Admiral +Struthers, U. S. N., regarded with undisguised disfavor the young man +in the wicker chair. He looked at the deep chest and the broad +shoulders which even a loose white coat could not conceal, at the +short, wavy brown hair and the slow, friendly smile on the face below. + +A likable chap, this Thorpe, but lazy--just an idler--he had +concluded. Been playing around Manila for the last two months--resting +up, he had said. And from what? the Admiral had questioned +disdainfully. Admiral Struthers did not like indolent young men, but +it would have saved him money if he had really got an answer to his +question and had learned just why and how Robert Thorpe had earned a +vacation. + +"You on a destroyer!" he said, and the lips beneath the close-cut gray +mustache twisted into a smile. "That would be too rough an experience +for you, I am afraid, Thorpe. Destroyers pitch about quite a bit, you +know." + +He included in his smile the destroyer captain and the young lady who +completed their party. The young lady had a charming and saucy smile +and knew it; she used it in reply to the Admiral's remark. + +"I have asked Mr. Thorpe to go on the _Adelaide_," she said. "We shall +be leaving in another month--but Robert tells me he has other plans." + +"Worse and worse," was the Admiral's comment. "Your father's yacht is +not even as steady as a destroyer. Now I would suggest a nice +comfortable liner...." + + * * * * * + +Robert Thorpe did not miss the official glances of amusement, but his +calm complacence was unruffled. "No," he said, "I don't just fancy +liners. Fact is, I have been thinking of sailing across to the States +alone." + +The Admiral's smile increased to a short laugh. "I would make a bet +you wouldn't get fifty miles from Manila harbor." + +The younger man crushed his cigarette slowly into the tray. "How much +of a bet?" he asked. "What will you bet that I don't sail alone from +here to--where are you stationed?--San Diego?--from here to San +Diego?" + +"Humph!" was the snorted reply. "I would bet a thousand dollars on +that and take your money for Miss Allaire's pet charity." + +"Now that's an idea," said Thorpe. He reached for a check book in his +inner pocket and began to write. + +"In case I lose," he explained, "I might be hard to find, so I will +just ask Miss Allaire to hold this check for me. You can do the same." +He handed the check to the girl. + +"Winner gets his thousand back, Ruth; loser's money goes to any little +orphans you happen to fancy." + +"You're not serious," protested the Admiral. + +"Sure! The bank will take that check seriously, I promise you. And I +saw just the sloop I want for the trip ... had my eye on her for the +past month." + +"But, Robert," began Ruth Allaire, "you don't mean to risk your life +on a foolish bet?" + +Thorpe reached over to pat tenderly the hand that held his check. "I'm +glad if you care," he said, and there was an undertone of seriousness +beneath his raillery, "but save your sympathy for the Admiral. The U. +S. Navy can't bluff me." He rose more briskly from his chair. + +"Thorpe...." said Admiral Struthers. He was thinking deeply, trying to +recollect. "Robert Thorpe.... I have a book by someone of that +name--travel and adventure and knocking about the world. Young man, +are you _the_ Robert Thorpe?" + +"Why, yes, if you wish to put it that way," agreed the other. He waved +lightly to the girl as he moved away. + +"I must be running along," he said, "and get that boat. See you all in +San Diego!" + + * * * * * + +The first rays of the sun touched with golden fingers the tops of the +lazy swells of the Pacific. Here and there a wave broke to spray under +the steady wind and became a shower of molten metal. And in the boat, +whose sails caught now and then the touch of morning, Robert Thorpe +stirred himself and rose sleepily to his feet. + +Out of the snug cabin at this first hint of day, he looked first at +the compass and checked his course, then made sure of the lashing +about the helm. The steady trade-winds had borne him on through the +night, and he nodded with satisfaction as he prepared to lower his +lights. He was reaching for a line as the little craft hung for an +instant on the top of a wave. And in that instant his eyes caught a +marking of white on the dim waters ahead. + +"Breakers!" he shouted aloud and leaped for the lashed wheel. He +swung off to leeward and eased a bit on the main-sheet, then lashed +the wheel again to hold on the new course. + +Again from a wave-crest he stared from under a sheltering hand. The +breakers were there--the smooth swells were foaming--breaking in +mid-ocean where his chart, he knew, showed water a mile deep. Beyond +the white line was a three-master, her sails shivering in the breeze. + +The big sailing ship swung off on a new tack as he watched. Was she +dodging those breakers? he wondered. Then he stared in amazement +through the growing light at the unbroken swells where the white line +had been. + + * * * * * + +He rubbed his sleepy eyes with a savage hand and stared again. There +were no breakers--the sea was an even expanse of heaving water. + +"I could swear I saw them!" he told himself, but forgot this +perplexing occurrence in the still more perplexing maneuvers of the +sailing ship. + +This steady wind--for smooth handling--was all that such a craft could +ask, yet here was this old-timer of the sea with a full spread of +canvas booming and cracking as the ship jibed. She rolled far over as +he watched, recovered, and tore off on a long, sweeping circle. + +The one man crew of the little sloop should have been preparing +breakfast, as he had for many mornings past, but, instead he swung his +little craft into the wind and watched for near an hour the erratic +rushes and shivering haltings of the larger ship. But long before this +time had passed Thorpe knew he was observing the aimless maneuvers of +an unmanned vessel. + +And he watched his chance for a closer inspection. + + * * * * * + +The three-master _Minnie R._, from the dingy painting of the stern, +hung quivering in the wind when he boarded her. There was a broken +log-line that swept down from the stern, and he caught this and made +his own boat fast. Then, watching his chance, he drew close and went +overboard, the line in his hand. + +"Like a blooming native after cocoanuts," he told himself as he went +up the side. But he made it and pulled himself over the rail as the +ship drew off on another tack. + +Thorpe looked quickly about the deserted deck. "Ahoy, there!" he +shouted, but the straining of rope and spars was his only answer. +Canvas was whipping to ribbons, sheets cracked their frayed ends like +lashes as the booms swung wildly, but a few sails still held and +caught the air. + +He was on the after deck, and he leaped first for the wheel that was +kicking and whirling with the swing of the rudder. A glance at the +canvas that still drew, and he set her on a course with a few +steadying pulls. There was rope lying about, and he lashed the wheel +with a quick turn or two and watched the ship steady down to a smooth +slicing of the waves from the west. + +And only then did the man take time to quiet his panting breath and +look about him in the unnatural quiet of this strangely deserted deck. +He shouted again and walked to a companionway to repeat the hail. Only +an echo, sounding hollowly from below, replied to break the vast +silence. + + * * * * * + +It was puzzling--inconceivable. Thorpe looked about him to note the +lifeboats snug and undisturbed in their places. No sign there of an +abandonment of the boat, but abandoned she was, as the silence told +only too plainly. And Thorpe, as he went below, had an uncanny feeling +of the crew's presence--as if they had been there, walked where he +walked, shouted and laughed a matter of a brief hour or two before. + +The door of the captain's cabin was burst in, hanging drunkenly from +one hinge. The log-book was open; there were papers on a rude desk. +The bunk was empty where the blankets had been thrown hurriedly +aside. Thorpe could almost see the skipper of this mystery ship +leaping frantically from his bed at some sudden call or commotion. A +chair was smashed and broken, and the man who examined it curiously +wiped from his hands a disgusting slime that was smeared stickily on +the splintered fragments. There was a fetid stench within his +nostrils, and he passed up further examination of this room. + +Forward in the fo'c'sle he felt again irresistibly the recent presence +of the crew. And again he found silence and emptiness and a disorder +that told of a fear-stricken flight. The odor that sickened and +nauseated the exploring man was everywhere. He was glad to gain the +freedom of the wind-swept deck and rid his lungs of the vile breath +within the vessel. + +He stood silent and bewildered. There was not a living soul aboard the +ship--no sign of life. He started suddenly. A moaning, whimpering cry +came from forward on the deck! + +Thorpe leaped across a disorder of tangled rope to race toward the +bow. He stopped short at sight of a battered cage. Again the moaning +came to him--there was something that still lived on board the +ill-fated ship. + + * * * * * + +He drew closer to see a great, huddled, furry mass that crouched and +cowered in a corner of the cage. A huge ape, Thorpe concluded, and it +moaned and whimpered absurdly like a human in abject fear. + +Had this been the terror that drove the men into the sea? Had this ape +escaped and menaced the officers and crew? Thorpe dismissed the +thought he well knew was absurd. The stout wood bars of the cage were +broken. It had been partially crushed, and the chain that held it to +the deck was extended to its full length. + +"Too much for me," the man said slowly, aloud; "entirely too much for +me! But I can't sail this old hooker alone; I'll have to get out and +let her drift." + +He removed completely one of the splintered bars from the broken cage. +"I've got to leave you, old fellow," he told the cowering animal, "but +I'll give you the run of the ship." + +He went below once more and came quickly back with the log-book and +papers from the captain's room. He tied these in a tight wrapping of +oilcloth from the galley and hung them at his belt. He took the wheel +again and brought the cumbersome craft slowly into the wind. The bare +mast of his own sloop was bobbing alongside as he went down the line +and swam over to her. + +Fending off from the wallowing hulk, he cut the line, and his small +craft slipped slowly astern as the big vessel fell off in the wind and +drew lumberingly away on its unguided course. + +She vanished into the clear-cut horizon before the watching man ceased +his staring and pricked a point upon his chart that he estimated was +his position. + +And he watched vainly for some sign of life on the heaving waters as +he set his sloop back on her easterly course. + + * * * * * + +It was a sun-tanned young man who walked with brisk strides into the +office of Admiral Struthers. The gold-striped arm of the uniformed man +was extended in quick greeting. + +"Made it, did you?" he exclaimed. "Congratulations!" + +"All O.K.," Thorpe agreed. "Ship and log are ready for your +verification." + +"Talk sense," said the officer. "Have any trouble or excitement? Or +perhaps you are more interested in collecting a certain bet than you +are in discussing the trip." + +"Damn the bet!" said the young man fervently. "And that's just what I +am here for--to talk about the trip. There were some little incidents +that may interest you." + +He painted for the Admiral in brief, terse sentences the picture of +that daybreak on the Pacific, the line of breakers, white in the +vanishing night, the abandoned ship beyond, cracking her canvas to +tatters in the freshening breeze. And he told of his boarding her and +of what he had found. + +"Where was this?" asked the officer, and Thorpe gave his position as +he had checked it. + +"I reported the derelict to a passing steamer that same day," he +added, but the Admiral was calling for a chart. He spread it on the +desk before him and placed the tip of a pencil in the center of an +unbroken expanse. + +"Breakers, you said?" he questioned. "Why, there are hundreds of +fathoms here, Mr. Thorpe." + + * * * * * + +"I know it," Thorpe agreed, "but I saw them--a stretch of white water +for an eighth of a mile. I know it's impossible, but true. But forget +that item for a time, Admiral. Look at this." He opened a brief case +and took out a log-book and some other papers. + +"The log of the _Minnie R._," he explained briefly. "Nothing in it but +routine entries up to that morning and then nothing at all." + +"Abandoned," mused the Admiral, "and they did not take to the boats. +There have been other instances--never explained." + +"See if this helps any," suggested Thorpe and handed the other two +sheets of paper. "They were in the captain's cabin," he added. + +Admiral Struthers glanced at them, then settled back in his chair. + +"Dated September fourth," he said. "That would have been the day +previous to the time you found her." The writing was plain, in a +careful, well-formed hand. He cleared his throat and read aloud: + +"Written by Jeremiah Wilkens of Salem, Mass., master of the _Minnie +R._, bound from Shanghai to San Pedro. I have sailed the seas for +forty years, and for the first time I am afraid. I hope I may destroy +this paper when the lights of San Pedro are safe in sight, but I am +writing here what it would shame me to set down in the ship's log, +though I know there are stranger happenings on the face of the waters +than man has ever seen--or has lived to tell. + + * * * * * + +"All this day I have been filled with fear. I have been watched--I +have felt it as surely as if a devil out of hell stood beside me with +his eyes fastened on mine. The men have felt it, too. They have been +frightened at nothing and have tried to conceal it as I have +done.--And the animals.... + +"A shark has followed us for days--it is gone to-day. The cats--we +have three on board--have howled horribly and have hidden themselves +in the cargo down below. The mate is bringing a big monkey to be sold +in Los Angeles. An orang-outang, he calls it. It has been an ugly +brute, shaking at the bars of its cage and showing its ugly teeth ever +since we left port. But to-day it is crouched in a corner of its cage +and will not stir even for food. The poor beast is in mortal terror. + +"All this is more like the wandering talk of an old woman muttering in +a corner by the fireside of witches and the like than it is like a +truthful account set down by Jeremiah Wilkins. And now that I have +written it I see there is nothing to tell. Nothing but the shameful +account of my fear of some horror beyond my knowing. And now that it +is written I am tempted to destroy--No, I will wait--" + +"And now what is this?" Admiral Struthers interrupted his reading to +ask. He turned the paper to read a coarse, slanting scrawl at the +bottom of the page. + +"The eyes--the eyes--they are everywhere above us--God help--" The +writing trailed off in a straggling line. + + * * * * * + +The lips beneath the trim gray mustache drew themselves into a hard +line. It was a moment before Admiral Struthers raised his eyes to +meet those of Robert Thorpe. + +"You found this in the captain's cabin?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"And the captain was--" + +"Gone." + +"Blood stains?" + +"No, but the door had been burst off its hinges. There had been a +struggle without a doubt." + +The officer mused for a minute or two. + +"Did they go aboard another vessel?" he pondered. "Abandon ship--open +the sea-cocks--sink it for the insurance?" He was trying vainly to +find some answer to the problem, some explanation that would not +impose too great a strain upon his own reason. + +"I have reported to the owners," said Thorpe. "The _Minnie R._ was not +heavily insured." + +The Admiral ruffled some papers on his desk to find a report. + +"There has been another," he told Thorpe. "A tramp freighter is listed +as missing. She was last reported due east of the position you give. +She was coming this way--must have come through about the same +water--" He caught himself up abruptly. Thorpe sensed that an Admiral +of the Navy must not lend too credulous an ear to impossible stories. + +"You've had an interesting experience, Mr. Thorpe," he said. "Most +interesting. Probably a derelict is the answer, some hull just afloat. +We will send out a general warning." + +He handed the loose papers and the log book to the younger man. "This +stuff is rubbish," he stated with emphasis. "Captain Wilkins held his +command a year or so too long." + +"You will do nothing about it?" Thorpe asked in astonishment. + +"I said I would warn all shipping; there is nothing more to be done." + +"I think there is." Thorpe's gray eye were steady as he regarded the +man at the desk. "I intend to run it down. There have been other such +instances, as you said--never explained. I mean to find the answer." + + * * * * * + +Admiral Struthers smiled indulgently. "Always after excitement," he +said. "You'll be writing another book, I expect. I shall look forward +to reading it ... but just what are you going to do?" + +"I am going to the Islands," said Thorpe quietly. "I am going to +charter a small ship of some sort, and I am going out there and camp +on that spot in the hope of seeing those eyes and what is behind them. +I am leaving to-night." + +Admiral Struthers leaned back to indulge in a hearty laugh. "I refused +you a passage on a destroyer once," he said, "and it was an expensive +mistake. I don't make the same mistake twice. Now I am going to offer +you a trip.... + +"The _Bennington_ is leaving to-day on a cruise to Manila. I'll hold +her an extra hour or two if you would like to go. She can drop you at +Honolulu or wherever you say. Lieutenant Commander Brent is in +command--you remember him in Manila, of course." + +"Fine," Thorpe responded. "I'll be there." + +"And," he added, as he took the Admiral's hand, "if I didn't object to +betting on a sure thing I would make you a little proposition. I would +bet any money that you would give your shirt to go along." + +"I never bet, either," said Admiral Struthers, "on a sure loss. Now +get out of here, you young trouble-shooter, and let the Navy get to +work." His eyes were twinkling as he waved the young man out. + + * * * * * + +Thorpe found himself comfortably fixed on the _Bennington_. Brent, her +commander, was a fine example of the aggressive young chaps that the +destroyer fleet breeds. And he liked to play cribbage, Thorpe found. +They were pegging away industriously the sixth night out when the +first S.O.S. reached them. A message was placed before the commander. +He read it and tossed it to Thorpe as he rose from his chair. + +"S.O.S.," said the radio sheet, "_Nagasaki Maru_, twenty-four +thirty-five N., one five eight West. Struck something unknown. Down at +the bow. May need help. Please stand by." + +Captain Brent had left the room. A moment later, and the quiver and +tremble of the _Bennington_ told Thorpe they were running full speed +for the position of the stricken ship. + +But: "Twenty-four thirty-five North," he mused, "and less than two +degrees west of where the poor old _Minnie R._ got hers. I wonder ... +I wonder...." + +"We will be there in four hours," said Captain Brent on his return. +"Hope she lasts. But what have they struck out there? Derelict +probably, though she should have had Admiral Struthers' warning." + +Robert Thorpe made no reply other than: "Wait here a minute, Brent. I +have something to show you." + + * * * * * + +He had not told the officer of his mission nor of his experience, but +he did so now. And he placed before him the wildly improbable +statement of the late Captain Wilkins. + +"Something is there," surmised Captain Brent, "just awash, +probably--no superstructure visible. Your _Minnie R._ hit the same +thing." + +"Something is there," Thorpe agreed. "I wish I knew what." + +"This stuff has got to you, has it?" asked Brent as he returned the +papers of Captain Wilkins. He was quite evidently amused at the +thought. + +"You weren't on the ship," said Thorpe, simply. "There was nothing to +see--nothing to tell. But I know...." + +He followed Brent to the wireless room. + +"Can you get the _Nagasaki_?" Brent asked. + +"They know we are coming, sir," said the operator. "We seem to be the +only one anywhere near." + +He handed the captain another message. "Something odd about that," he +said. + +"_U. S. S. Bennington_," the captain read aloud. "We are still afloat. +On even keel now, but low in water. No water coming in. Engines full +speed ahead, but we make no headway. Apparently aground. _Nagasaki +Maru._" + +"Why, that's impossible," Brent exclaimed impatiently. "What kind of +foolishness--" He left the question uncompleted. The radio man was +writing rapidly. Some message was coming at top speed. Both Brent and +Thorpe leaned over the man's shoulder to read as he wrote. + +"_Bennington_ help," the pencil was writing, "sinking fast--decks +almost awash--we are being--" + +In breathless silence they watched the pencil, poised above the paper +while the operator listened tensely to the silent night. + + * * * * * + +Again his ear received the wild jumble of dots and dashes sent by a +frenzied hand in that far-off room. His pencil automatically set down +the words. "Help--help--" it wrote before Thorpe's spellbound gaze, +"the eyes--the eyes--it is attack--" + +And again the black night held only the rush and roar of torn waters +where the destroyer raced quivering through the darkness. The message, +as the waiting men well knew, would never be completed. + +"A derelict!" Robert Thorpe exclaimed with unconscious scorn. But +Captain Brent was already at a communication tube. + +"Chief? Captain Brent. Give her everything you've got. Drive the +_Bennington_ faster than she ever went before." + +The slim ship was a quivering lance of steel that threw itself through +foaming waters, that shot with an endless, roaring surge of speed +toward that distant point in the heaving waste of the Pacific, and +that seemed, to the two silent men on the bridge, to put the dragging +miles behind them so slowly--so slowly. + +"Let me see those papers," said Captain Brent, finally. + + * * * * * + +He read them in silence. + +Then: "The eyes!" he said. "The eyes! That is what this other poor +devil said. My God, Thorpe, what is it? What can it be? We're not all +insane." + +"I don't know what I expected to find," said Thorpe slowly. "I had +thought of many things, each wilder than the next. This Captain +Wilkins said the eyes were above him. I had visions of some sky +monster ... I had even thought of some strange aircraft from out in +space, perhaps, with round lights like eyes. I have pictured +impossibilities! But now--" + +"Yes," the other questioned, "now?" + +"There were tales in olden times of the Kraken," suggested Thorpe. + +"The Kraken!" the captain scoffed. "A mythical monster of the sea. +Why, that was just a fable." + +"True," was the quiet reply, "that was just a fable. And one of the +things I have learned is how frequently there is a basis of fact +underlying a fable. And, for that matter, how can we know there is no +such monster, some relic of a Mesozoic species supposed to be +extinct?" + +He stood motionless, staring far out ahead into the dark. And Brent, +too, was silent. They seemed to try with unaided eyes to penetrate the +dark miles ahead and see what their sane minds refused to accept. + + * * * * * + +It was still dark when the search-light's sweeping beam picked up the +black hull and broad, red-striped funnels of the _Nagasaki Maru_. She +was riding high in the water, and her big bulk rolled and wallowed in +the trough of the great swells. + +The _Bennington_ swept in a swift circle about the helpless hulk while +the lights played incessantly upon her decks. And the watching eyes +strained vainly for some signal to betoken life, for some sign that +their mad race had not been quite vain. Her engines had been shut +down; there was no steerage-way for the _Nagasaki Maru_, and, from all +they could see, there were no human hands to drag at the levers of her +waiting engines nor to twirl with sure touch the deserted helm. The +_Nagasaki Maru_ was abandoned. + +The lights held steadily upon her as the _Bennington_ came alongside +and a boat was swung out smartly in its davits. But Thorpe knew he was +not alone in his wild surmise as to the cause of the catastrophe. + +"Throw your lights around the water occasionally," Brent ordered. "Let +me know if you see anything." + +"Yes sir," said the man at the search-light. "I will report if I spot +any survivors or boats." + +"Report anything you see," said Commander Brent curtly. + +"You go aboard if you want to," he suggested to Thorpe. "I will stay +here and be ready if you need help." + +Thorpe nodded with approval as the small boat pulled away in the dark, +for there was activity apparent on the destroyer not warranted by a +mere rescue at sea. Gun-crews rushed to their stations; the tarpaulin +covers were off of the guns, and their slender lengths gleamed where +they covered the course of the boat. + +"Brent is ready," Thorpe admitted, "for anything." + + * * * * * + +They found the iron ladder against the ship's side, and a sailor +sprang for it and made his way aboard. Thorpe was not the last to set +foot on deck, and he shuddered involuntarily at the eery silence he +knew awaited them. + +It was the _Minnie R._ over again, as he expected, but with a +difference. The sailing vessel, before he boarded it, had been for +some time exposed to the sun, while the _Nagasaki Maru_ had not. And +here there were slimy trails still wet on the decks. + +He went first to the wireless room. He must know the final answer to +that interrupted message, and he found it in emptiness. No radio man +was waiting him there, nor even a body to show the loser of an unequal +battle. But there was blood on the door-jamb where a body--the man's +body, Thorpe was sure--had been smashed against the wood. A wisp of +black hair in the blood gave its mute evidence of the hopeless fight. +And the slime, like the trails on the deck, smeared with odorous +vileness the whole room. + +Thorpe went again to the deck, and, as on the other ship, he breathed +deeply to rid his lungs and nostrils of the abhorrent stench. The +ensign in charge of the boarding party approached. + +"What kind of a rotten mess is this?" he demanded. "The ship is filthy +and not a soul on board. Not a man of them, officers or crew, and the +boats are all here. It's absolutely amazing, isn't it?" + +"No," Thorpe told him, "about what we expected. What do you make of +this?" He touched with his foot a broad trail that shone wet in the +_Bennington's_ lights. + +"The Lord knows," said the ensign in wonder. "It's all over and it +smells like a rotten dead fish. Well, we will be going back, sir." He +called to a petty officer to round up the men, and the boat was +brought alongside. + + * * * * * + +Their return to the _Bennington_ again through a pathway of light that +Thorpe knew was safe under the black muzzles of the destroyer's guns. + +Or was it, he asked himself. Safe! Was anything safe from this +devilish mystery that could pluck each cowering human from the lowest +depths of this steel freighter, that could drag her down in the water +till the radio man sent his cry: "We are sinking!..." + +He told Brent quietly, after the ensign had reported, of the struggles +in the wireless room and its few remaining traces. And he watched with +the commander through the hour of darkness while the _Bennington_ +steamed in slow circles about the abandoned hulk, while her +search-lights played endlessly over the empty waters and the men at +the guns cast wondering glances at their skipper who ordered such +strange procedure when no danger was there. + +With daylight the scene lost its sense of mysterious threat, and +Thorpe was eager to return to the abandoned ship. + +"I might find something," he said, "some trace or indication of what +we have to fight." + +"I must leave," said Commander Brent. "Oh, I'm coming back, never +fear," he added, at the look of dismay on Thorpe's face. The thought +of leaving this mystery unsolved was more than that young seeker after +adventure could accept. + +"I'm coming back," Brent repeated. "I've been in communication with +the Admiral--Honolulu has relayed the messages through. All code, of +course; we mustn't alarm the whole Pacific with our nightmares. The +old man says to stick around and get the low-down on this damn thing." + +"Then why leave?" objected Thorpe. + + * * * * * + +"Because I am coming around to your way of thinking, Thorpe. Because I +am as certain as can be that we have a monster of some sort to deal +with ... and because I haven't any depth charges. I want to run up to +the supply station at Honolulu and get a couple of ash-cans of TNT to +lay on top of the brute if we sight him." + +"Glory be!" said Thorpe fervently. "That sounds like business. Go and +get your eggs and perhaps we can feed them to this devil--raw.... And +I think I'll stay here, if you will be back by dark." + +"Better not," the other objected; but Thorpe overruled him. + +"This thing attacks in the dark," he said. "I will lay a little bet on +that. It left the orang-outang on the _Minnie R._--quit at the first +sign of daylight. I will be safe through the day, and besides, the +beast has gutted this ship. It won't return, I imagine. And if I stay +there for the day--live as they lived, the men who manned that ship--I +may have some information that will be of help when you get back. But +for Heaven's sake, Brent, don't stop to pick any flowers on the way." + +"It's your funeral," said Brent not too cheerfully. "The old man said +to give you every assistance, and perhaps that includes helping you +commit suicide." + +But Robert Thorpe only laughed as Commander Brent gave his orders for +a small boat to be lowered. A ship's lantern and rockets for night +signals were taken at the officer's orders. "We'll be back before +dark," he said, "but take these as a precaution." + +One favor Thorpe asked--that the ship's carpenter go over with him and +help him to make a strong-barred retreat of the wireless cabin. + +"And I'll talk to you occasionally," he told Brent. "I tried the key +while I was aboard; the wireless is working on its batteries." + +He waved a cheery good-by as the small boat pulled away. "And hurry +back," he called. The destroyer commander nodded an emphatic assent. + + * * * * * + +On board the _Nagasaki Maru_, Thorpe directed the carpenter and his +helpers in the work he wanted done. The man seemed to know +instinctively where to put his hands on needed supplies, and the +result was a virtual cage of strong oak bars enclosing the wireless +room, and braces of oak to bar the single door. Thorpe was not +assuming any bravado in his feeling of safety, but he was doing what +he had done in many other tight corners, and he prepared his defences +in advance. + +These included weapons of offense as well. As the boat with the +destroyer's men pulled back to the _Bennington_, he placed in easy +reach in a corner of the room a heavy calibered rifle he had taken +from his belongings. + +And, still, with all his feeling of security, there was a strange +depression fell upon him when the _Bennington's_ narrow hull was small +upon the horizon, and then that, too, was gone and only the heaving +swells and the wallowing hulk were his companions. + +Only these? He shivered slightly as he thought of that unseen watcher +with the devil-eyes whose presence Captain Wilkins had felt--and his +men, and the poor terrified ape! He deliberately put from his mind the +thought of this; no use to start the day with morbid fears. He went +below to examine the cabins. But he carried the heavy elephant gun +with him wherever he went. + + * * * * * + +Below decks the signs of the marauder were everywhere, yet there was +little to be learned. The slimy trails dried quickly and vanished, but +not before Thorpe had traced them to the uttermost depths of the ship. + +There was not a nook or corner that had gone unsearched in the +horrible quest for human food. And one thing impressed itself forcibly +upon the man's mind. He found a lantern, and he used it of necessity +in his explorations, but this thing had gone through the dark and with +unerring certainty had found its way to every victim. + +"Can it see in the dark?" Thorpe questioned. "Or...." He visioned +dimly some denizen of the vast depths, living beyond the limits of the +sun's penetration, far in the abysmal darkness where its only light +must be self-made. But his mind failed in the attempt to picture what +manner of horror this thing might be. + +Even in the hold its evil traces were found. There were tiers of metal +drums that still shone wet in his lantern's light. Calcium +carbide--for making acetylene, he supposed--marked "Made in U.S.A." +The _Nagasaki_ must have been westward bound. + + * * * * * + +He went, after an hour or so, to the wireless room, and only when he +relaxed in the safety of his improvised fortress did he realize how +tense had been every nerve and muscle through his long search. He +tried the wireless and got an instant response from the destroyer. + +"Don't shoot it too fast," he spelled out slowly to the distant +operator: "I am only a dub. Just wanted to say hello and report all +O.K." + +"Fine," was the steady, careful response. "We have had a little +trouble with our condensers--" There was a short pause, then the +message continued, this portion dictated by the commander. "Delay not +important. We will be back as agreed. Have picked up _S. S. Adelaide_ +bound east in your latitude. Warned her to take northerly course +account derelict. See you later. Signed, Brent, commanding _U. S. S. +Bennington_." + +The man in the barred room tapped off his acknowledgement and closed +the key. He suddenly realized he had had no breakfast, and the hours +had been slipping past. He took his gun again and went down to the +galley to prepare some coffee. It was not the time or place for an +enjoyable meal, but he would have relished it more had he not pictured +the _Adelaide_ and her lovely owner steaming across these threatening +seas. + +He knew the captain of the _Adelaide_. "Obstinate pigheaded old +Scotchman!" "Hope he takes Brent's advice. Of course Brent couldn't +tell him the truth. We can't blat this wild yarn all over the air or +the passenger lines would have our scalps. But I wish the _Adelaide_ +was safe in Manila." + + * * * * * + +His explorations in the afternoon were half-hearted and perfunctory. +There was nothing more to be learned. But he had seen in his mind some +vague outline of what they must meet. He saw a something, mammoth, +huge, that could grasp and hold an ocean freighter--against whose +great body he had seen the waves dash in a line of white spray. Yet a +something that could force its way down narrow passages, could press +with terrific strength on bolted doors and crush them inward, wrecked +and splintered. Some serpentine thing that felt and saw its way and +crawled so surely through the dark--found its prey--seized it--and +carried off a man as easily as it might a mouse. + +No octopus, no matter what proportions, filled the description. He +gave up trying to see too clearly the awful thing. And he kept away +from the ship's rail when once he had ventured near. For there had +come to him a feeling of fear that had sent the waves of cold +trickling and prickling up his spine. Was there something really +there?... A waiting lurking horror in the depths? + +"The eyes," he thought, "the eyes!..." And he went more quickly than +he knew to his barred retreat where again he might breathe quietly. + + * * * * * + +The position of the deserted ship was south of the regular steamer +lanes on the TransPacific run. Only a trace of smoke on the northern +horizon marked through the afternoon the passage of other craft. It +was a long and lonely vigil for the waiting man. But the _Bennington_ +would return, and he listened in at intervals hoping to hear her +friendly signal. + +The batteries operating the _Nagasaki's_ wireless were none too +strong; Thorpe saved their strength, though he tried at times to raise +the _Bennington_ somewhere beyond his reach. + +The sun was touching the horizon when he got his first response. "Keep +up the old nerve," admonished the slow, careful sending of the +_Bennington's_ operator. "We have been delayed but we are on our way. +Signed, Brent." + +The man in the wireless room placed the oak bars across the door, and +tried to believe he was nonchalant and unafraid as he laid out extra +clips of cartridges. But his eyes persisted in following the sinking +sun, and he watched from within his cage the coming of the quick dark. + +The protecting glare of day must be unbearable to this monster from +the lightless depths, and daylight was vanishing. Thorpe's mind was +searching for additional means of defense. He found it in the cargo he +had seen. The drums of carbide! He could scatter it on the deck--it +reacted with water, and those slimy arms, if they came and touched it, +could find the contact hot. He took his lantern and went hastily below +to stagger back with a drum upon his shoulder. + +In the half-light that was left him he forced the cover and then +rolled the drum about the swaying deck. The gray, earthly lumps of +carbide formed erratic lines. Useless perhaps, he admitted, but the +threatening dark forced the man to use every means at his command. + + * * * * * + +He was scattering the contents of a second drum when he stiffened +abruptly to rigid attention. + +The ship, thrown broadside to the wide-spaced swells, had rolled +endlessly with a monotonous motion. But now the deck beneath him was +steadying. It assumed an abnormal levelness. The boat rose and fell +with the waves, but it no longer rolled. There was something beneath +holding, drawing on it. + +Thorpe knew in that frozen second what it meant. The drum clattered to +the rail as he dashed for his room. Gun in hand, he watched with +staring eyes where the deserted deck showed dim and vague in the light +of the stars and the bow of the ship was lost in the uncertain dark of +night. + +Wide-eyed he watched into the blackness, and he listened with +desperate attention for some slightest sound beyond the splashing of +waves and the creaking of spars. + +Far in the west a light appeared, to glow and vanish and glow again in +the tumbling waters. The _Bennington_! His heart leaped at the +thought, then sank as he knew the destroyer's lights would not appear +from that direction. + +Through a slow hour that seemed an eternity the oncoming ship drew +near, and he knew with a sudden, startling certainty that it was the +_Adelaide_--and Ruth Allaire--coming on, through into the horror +awaiting. + +He leaned forward tensely as a sound reached his ears. A ghostly echo +of a sound, like the softest of smooth, slipping fabric upon hard +steel. And as he listened, before his staring eyes, a something came +between him and the lighted yacht. + +It wavered and swung in the darkness. It was formless, uncertain of +outline, and it swung in the night out beyond the ship's rail till it +suddenly neared, waved high overhead, and the cold light of the stars +shone in pale reflection from an enormous, staring eye. + +It surmounted a serpentine form that took shape in the dim radiance +without and came lower in undulating folds to crash heavily upon the +deck. + + * * * * * + +Thorpe's hand was upon the wireless key. He had wanted to warn off the +yacht, but not till the thud of the creature on the bare deck proved +its reality could he force his cold fingers to press the key. + +Then, fast as his inexperience allowed, he called frantically for the +_Adelaide_. He spelled her name, over and over.... Would the sleepy +operator never answer? + +The _Bennington_ broke in one. "Is that you, Thorpe? What is up?" they +demanded. + +But Thorpe kept up his slow spelling of the yacht's name. He must get +a warning to them! Then he realized that the _Bennington_ could do it +better. + +"_Bennington_," he called, "_Adelaide_ approaching. I am attacked. +Warn them off. Warn them--" His frantic, hissing dots and dashes died +immediately. Beneath his feet the _Nagasaki Maru_ was rolling again, +swinging free to the lift and thrust of the swells beneath. + +"Good God!" he shouted aloud in his lonely cabin. "It's gone for the +yacht. _Adelaide_--turn north--full speed--" he clicked off on a slow, +stuttering key. "Head north. You are being attacked!" He groaned again +as he saw the _Adelaide's_ shining ports swing away from the safety of +the north; the ship broached broadside to the waves and came slowly to +a stop. + +"_Bennington_," he radioed. "Brent--it has got the _Adelaide_. +Help--hurry! I am going over." + +He tore wildly at the barred door, and he made a dash across the deck +to slip sprawling in a heap against the rail where the slimy traces of +the recent visitor stretched glistening on the deck. + + * * * * * + +How he lowered the boat Thorpe never knew. But he knew there was one +that the men from the _Bennington_ had swung over the side, and tore +madly at the tackle to let the boat crash miraculously upright into +the sea. He slung the rifle about his neck with a rope end--there were +cartridges in his pocket--and he went down the dangling lines and cast +off in a frenzy of haste. + +What could he do? He hardly dared form the question. Only this stood +clear and unanswerable in his mind: The yacht was in the monster's +grip, and Ruth Allaire was there on board. Ruth Allaire, so smiling, +so friendly, so lovable! Food for that horror from the depths.... He +rowed with super-human strength to drive the heavy boat across the +wave-swept distance that separated them. + +Between gasping breaths he turned at times to glance over his shoulder +and correct his course. And now, as he drew near, he saw though +indistinct the unmistakable, snakelike weaving of horrible tenuous +fingers, rolling and groping about the yacht. + +They were plain as he drew alongside. The trim ship rose and fell with +the water, while over her side where Thorpe approached swung a long, +white monstrous rope of flesh. It retreated like the lash of a whip, +and the horrified watcher saw as it went the struggling figure of a +man in the grasp of flabby lips. And above them a single eye glared +wickedly. + +Another vile, twisting arm rose from the afterdeck with a screaming +figure in its grasp and vanished into the water beyond the yacht. +There were others writhing about the decks. Thorpe saw them as he made +his boat fast and clambered aboard. + + * * * * * + +A wave of reeking air enveloped him as he reached the deck; the +nauseous stench from the monster's tentacles was horrible beyond +endurance. He gagged and choked as the stifling breath entered his +lungs. + +A huge rope of slippery, throbbing flesh stretched its twisted length +toward the stern. It contracted as he watched into bulging muscular +rings and withdrew from the afterdeck. The deadly end of it stopped in +mid-air not twenty feet from where he stood. The jawlike pincers on it +held the limp form of an officer in its sucking grip, while above, in +a protuberance like a gnarled horn, a great eye glared into Thorpe's +with devilish hatred. + +The beak opened sharply to drop its unconscious burden upon the deck, +and the watching man, petrified with horror, saw within the gaping maw +great sucking discs and beyond them a brilliant glow. The whole +cavernous pit was aflame with phosphorescent light. Dimly he knew that +this light explained the ability of the beastly arms to grope so +surely in the dark. + +The eye narrowed as the gaping, fleshy jaws distended, and Robert +Thorpe, in a flash that galvanized him to action, was aware that his +fight for life was on. He fired blindly from the hip, and the recoil +of the heavy gun almost tore it from his hands. But he knew he had +aimed true, and the toothless, seeking jaws whipped in agony back into +the sea. + +There were other arms whose eyes were searching the stern of the +yacht. Thorpe plunged frenziedly down a companionway for the cabin he +knew was Ruth Allaire's. Was he in time? Could he save her if he found +her? His mind was in a turmoil of half-formed plans as he rushed madly +down the corridor to find the body of the girl a limp huddle across +the threshold of her cabin. + + * * * * * + +She was alive; he knew it as he swung her soft body across one +shoulder and staggered with his burden up the stairs. If he could only +breathe! His throat was tight and strangling with the reeking +putrescence in the air. And before his eyes was a picture of the +strong oak bars of his own retreat. Somehow, some way, he must get +back to the abandoned ship. + +An eye detected him as he came on deck, and he dropped the limp body +of the girl at his feet as he swung his rifle toward the glowing light +within the opening jaws. The sucking discs cupped and wrinkled in +dread readiness in the fleshy, toothless opening. He emptied the +magazine into the head, though he knew this was only a feeler and a +feeder for a still more horrible mouth in the monstrous body that rose +and fell tremendously in the dark waters beyond. But it was typical of +Robert Thorpe that even in the horror and frenzy of the moment he +rammed another clip of cartridges into his rifle before he stooped to +again raise the prostrate figure of Ruth Allaire. + +The forward deck for the moment was clear; it rose high with the +weight of the writhing, twisting arms that weighed down the stern of +the yacht where the crew had taken refuge. + +To think of helping them was worse than folly--he dismissed the +thought as another great eye came over the rail. Once more he used the +gun, then lowered the girl to the waiting boat, and cast off and rowed +with the stealthiest of strokes into the dark. + + * * * * * + +Behind him were whipping points of light above the white brilliance of +the yacht _Adelaide_. The boat was tossing in great waves that came +from beyond, where a body, incredibly huge, was tearing the waters to +foam. There were ghostly arms that shone in slimy wetness, that lashed +searchingly in all directions, as the monster gave vent to its fury at +Thorpe's attack. There were screaming human figures grasped in many of +the jaws, and the man was glad with a great thankfulness that the +girl's stupor could save her from the frightful sight. + +He dared to row now, and his breath was coming in great choking sobs +of sheer exhaustion when at last he pulled the senseless form of Ruth +Allaire to the deck of the _Nagasaki_ and drew her within the frail +shelter of the wireless room. + +Stout had the oaken bars appeared, and safe his refuge in the +barricaded room, but that was before he had seen in horrible reality +the fearful fury of this monster from the deep. He placed the braces +against the door and turned with hopeless haste to seize the wireless +key. + +"_Bennington_," he called, and the answer came strong and clear. +"Where are you.... Help--" His fingers froze upon the key and the +answering message in his ears was unheeded as he watched across the +water the destruction of the yacht. + +This craft that had dared to resist the onset of the brute, to fight +against it, to wound it, was feeling the full fury of the monster's +rage. The gleaming lights of the doomed ship were waving lines that +swept to and fro in the grip of those monstrous arms. The boat beneath +Thorpe's feet was tossing in the waves that told of the titanic +struggle. He had meant to look south for some sign of the oncoming +destroyer, but in fearful fascination he stared spellbound where the +masts of the trim yacht swept downward into the waves, where the green +of her star-board lantern glowed faintly for an instant, then +vanished, to leave only the darkness and the starlit sea. + + * * * * * + +A voice aroused him from his stupefaction. "Where am I ... where am +I?" Ruth Allaire was asking in a frightened whisper. "That terrible +thing--" She shuddered violently as memory returned to show again the +horror she had witnessed. "Where are we, Robert? And the +_Adelaide_--where is it?" + +Thorpe turned slowly. The insane turmoil of the past hour had numbed +his brain, stunned him. + +"The _Adelaide_--" he mumbled, and groped fumblingly for coherent +thoughts. He stared at the girl. She was half-risen from the floor +where he had laid her, and the sight of her quivering face brought +reason again to his mind. He knelt tenderly beside her and raised her +in his arms. + +"Where is the yacht?" she repeated. "The _Adelaide_?" + +"Gone," Thorpe told her. "Lost!" A thought struck him. + +"Was your father on board, Ruth?" + +Ruth was dazed. + +"Lost," she repeated. "The _Adelaide_--lost!... No," she added in +belated response to Thorpe's question. "Daddy was not there. But the +men--Captain MacPherson ... that horrible monster...." She buried her +face in her hands as she realized what Thorpe's silence meant. + +He held the trembling figure close as the girl whispered: "Where are +we, Robert? Are we safe?" + +"We may win through yet," he told her through grim, set lips. He +realized abruptly that he was seeing the face of Ruth Allaire in the +light. He had left a lantern burning! He withdrew his arms from about +her and sprang quickly to his feet to put out the tell-tale light. In +darkness and quiet was their only safety. And he knew as he sprang +that he had waited too long. A soft body crashed heavily on the deck +outside. + + * * * * * + +The girl's voice was shrill with terror as she began a question. +Thorpe's hand pressed upon her lips in the dark where he stood +waiting--waiting. + +A luminous something was glowing outside the cabin. It searched and +prodded about the deserted deck to whip upward at the audible hiss of +wet carbide. Another appeared; the rifle came slowly to the man's +shoulder as a pair of jaws gaped glowingly beyond the windows and an +eye stared unblinkingly from its hornlike sheath. It crashed madly +against the walls of the wireless room to shatter the glass and make +kindling of the woodwork of the sash. Thorpe fired once and again +before the specter vanished, and he knew with sickening certainty that +the wounds were only messages to some central brain that would send +other ravening tentacles against them. But the oak bars had held. + +He reached in the brief interval for the key, and he sent out one +final call for help. He strained his ears against the head-set for +some friendly human word of hope. + +"--rocket," the wireless man was saying. "Fire rockets. We can't +find--" A swift, writhing arm wrapped crushingly about the cabin as +the message ceased. + + * * * * * + +Thorpe seized his rifle and fired into the gray mass that bulged with +terrible muscular contractions through the window. He fired again to +aim lengthways of the arm and inflict as damaging a wound as his +weapon would permit. + +The arm relaxed, but a score of others took up the attack. Again the +sickening stench was about them as gaping jaws gleamed fiery beneath +the hateful eyes and tore at the flimsy structure. Thorpe jammed more +cartridges into the gun and fired again and again, then dropped the +weapon to fumble for the rockets that Brent had given him. + +He lighted one with trembling fingers; the first ball shot straight +into a waiting mouth. Another ignited a searing flame of acetlylene +gas where a wet arm writhed in the hot carbide trail. The man leaned +far out through the broken window. + +No time to look around. He let the red flares stream upward high into +the air, then dropped the rocket hissing on the deck to seize once +more the rifle. + +A mass of muscle crashed against the door; it went to splinters under +the impact, and only the two oak bars remained to hold in check the +horrible tentacles and the darting heads. One mouth closed to a +pointed end that forced its way between the bars. The oak gave under +the strain as Robert Thorpe pulled vainly at an empty gun. Beside him +rose shrieks of terror as the monstrous thing came on, and Thorpe beat +with frantic fury with his clubbed rifle at the fleshy snout. + +He knew as he swung the weapon that the shrieks had ceased, then +smiled grimly in the numbing horror as he realized that Ruth Allaire +was beside him. A piece of oak was in her hands, and she was striking +with desperate and silent fury at the slimy flesh. + + * * * * * + +It was the end, Thorpe knew, and suddenly he was glad. The nightmare +was over, and the end was coming with this girl beside him. But Robert +Thorpe was fighting on to the last, and he tried to make his blows +reach outward to the hateful devilish eye. + +He saw it plainly now, for the deck was a glare of white light. He saw +the eye and the thick arm behind it and the score of others that made +a heaving, knotted mass were brilliant and wetly shining. He could see +now how best to strike, and he turned his gun to thrust with the +barrel at the eye. + +It withdrew before his stroke--the jaws slid backward to the deck. +There were sounds that hammered at his ears. "The guns! The guns!" a +girl was screaming. Across the deck, where a search-light played, +huge arms were lashing backward toward the sea. The waves beyond had +vanished where a monstrous body shone wetly black in a blinding glare. + +And the man hung panting, helpless, on the one remaining bar across +the doorway to look where, beyond, her forward guns a spitting stream +of staccato flashes, the _Bennington_ tore the waves to high-thrown +spray. Her four clean funnels swung far over as the slim ship, with +her stabbing, crashing guns, swung in a sweeping circle to bear down +upon the black bulk slowly sinking in the search-light's glare. + +The vast body had vanished as the destroyer shot like one of her own +projectiles over the spot where the beast had lain. And then, where +she had passed, the sea arose in a heaving mound. The big ship beneath +the watching man shuddered again as another depth charge grumbled its +challenge to the master of the deeps. + + * * * * * + +The warship went careening on an arc to return and throw the full +glare of her search-lights on the scene. They lighted a vast sea, +strangely stilled. An oily smoothness leveled waves and ironed them +out to show more clearly the convulsions of a torn mass that rose +slowly into sight. + +Thorpe in some way found himself outside the cabin. And he knew that +the girl was again beside him as he stared and stared at what the +waters held. A bloated serpent form beyond believing was struggling in +the greasy swell. Its waving tentacles again were flung aloft in +impotent fury, and, beneath them, where their thick ends jointed the +body, a head with one horrible eye rose into the air. A thick-lipped +mouth gaped open, and the gleam of molars shone white in the blinding +glare. + +The twisting body shuddered throughout its vast bulk, and the waving +arms and futile staring eyes dropped helpless into the splashing sea. +Again the revolting head was raised as the destroyer sent a rain of +shells into its fearful mass. Once more the oily seas were calm. They +closed over the whirling vortex where a denizen of the lightless +depths was returning to those distant, subterranean caverns--returning +as food for what other voracious monsters might still exist. + +The man's arm was about the figure of the girl, trembling anew in a +fresh reaction from the horror they had escaped, when a small boat +drew alongside. + +"They're safe," a hoarse voice bellowed back to the destroyer, and a +man came monkeywise up a rope where Thorpe had launched his boat. + +And now, as one in a dream, Thorpe allowed the girl to be taken from +him, to be lowered to the waiting boat. He clambered down himself and +in silence was rowed across to the destroyer. + +"Thank God!" said Brent, as he met them at the rail. "You're safe, old +man ... and Miss Allaire ... both of you! You let off that rocket just +in time; we couldn't pick you up with our light-- + +"And now," he added, "we're going back; back to San Diego. The Admiral +wants a word of mouth report." + +Thorpe stilled him with a heavy gesture. "Give Ruth an opiate," he +said dully. "Let her forget ... forget!... Good God, can we ever +forget--" He stumbled forward, heedless of Brent's arm across his +shoulders as the surgeon took the girl in charge. + + * * * * * + +Admiral Struthers, U.S.N., leaned back from his desk and blew a cloud +of smoke thoughtfully toward the ceiling. He looked silently from +Thorpe to Commander Brent. + +"If either one of you had come to me with such a report," he said +finally, "I would have found it incredible; I would have thought you +were entirely insane, or trying some wild hoax." + +"I wish it were a damn lie," said Thorpe quietly. "I wish I didn't +have to believe it." There were new lines about the young-old eyes, +lines that spoke what the lips would not confess of sleepless nights +and the impress of a picture he could not erase. + +"Well, we have kept it out of the papers," said the Admiral. "Said it was a +derelict, and the wild messages floating about were from an inexperienced +man, frightened and irresponsible. Bad advertising--very--for the passenger +lines." + +"Quite," Commander Brent agreed, "but of course Mr. Thorpe may want to +use this in his next book of travel. He has earned the right without +doubt." + +"No," said Thorpe emphatically. "No! I told you, Brent, there was +often a factual basis for fables--remember? Well, we have proved that. +But sometimes it is best to leave the fables just fables. I think you +will agree." A light step sounded in the corridor beyond. "Nothing of +this to Miss Allaire," he said sharply. + +The men rose as Ruth Allaire entered the room. "We were just +speaking," said the Admiral with an engaging smile beneath his +close-cut mustache, "of the matter of a bet. Mr. Thorpe has won +handily, and he has taught me a lesson." + +He took a check book from his desk. "What charity would you like to +name, Miss Allaire? That was left to you, you remember." + +"Some seamen's home," said Ruth Allaire gravely. "You will know best, +if you two are really serious about that silly bet." + +"That bet, my dear," said Robert Thorpe with smiling eyes, "was very +serious ... and it has had most serious consequences." He turned to +the waiting men and extended a hand in farewell. + +"We are going to Europe, Ruth and I," he told them. "Just rambling +around a bit. Our honeymoon, you know. Look us up if you're cruising +out that way." + + + + +Murder Madness + +PART TWO OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL + +_By Murray Leinster_ + +[Illustration: "_As the madness grew, the two men fought. They were +murder mad. The local sub-deputy gave his guests the thrill of +watching maniacs battling to the death._"] + +[Sidenote: Bell, of the secret "Trade," strikes into the South +American jungle to find the hidden stronghold of The Master--the +unknown monster whose diabolical poison swiftly and surely is +enslaving the whole continent.] + + +Seven United States Secret Service men have disappeared in South +America. Another is found--a screaming homicidal maniac. It is rumored +that they are victims of a diabolical poison which produces "murder +madness." + +Charley Bell, of the "Trade"--a secret service organization that does +not officially exist--discovers that a sinister system of slavery is +flourishing in South America, headed by a mysterious man known only as +The Master. This slavery is accomplished by means of a poison which +causes its victims to experience a horrible writhing of the hands, +followed by a madness to do murder, two weeks after the poison is +taken. + +The victims get relief only with an antidote supplied through Ribiera, +The Master's Chief Deputy; but in the antidote there is more of the +poison which again in two weeks will take effect. And so it is that a +person who once receives the poison is forever enslaved. + +[Illustration] + +Bell learns that Ribiera has kidnapped Paula Canalejas, daughter of a +Brazilian cabinet minister--himself a victim--who has killed himself +on feeling the "murder madness," caused by the poison, coming over +him. Bell corners Ribiera in his home, buries the muzzles of two +six-guns in his stomach, and demands that he set Paula free. + + +CHAPTER VI + +In this room the electric lights were necessary at all times. And it +occurred to Bell irrelevantly that perhaps there were no windows +because there might be sometimes rather noisy scenes within these +walls. And windows will convey the sound of screaming to the outside +air, while solid walls will not. + +He stood alert and grim, with his revolvers pressing into Ribiera's +flabby flesh. His fingers were tensed upon the triggers. If he killed +Ribiera, he would be killed. Of course. And men and women he had known +and liked might be doomed to the most horrible of fates by Ribiera's +death. Yet even the death or madness of many men was preferable to the +success of the conspiracy in which Ribiera seemed to figure largely. + +Ribiera looked up at him with the eyes of a terrified snake. There was +a little stirring at the door. + +"Your friends," said Bell softly, "had better not come close." + +Ribiera gasped an order. The stirrings stopped. Paula came slowly into +the room quite alone. She smiled queerly at Bell. + +"I believed that you would come," she said quietly. "And yet I do not +know that we can escape." + +"We're going to try," said Bell grimly. To Ribiera he added curtly, +"You'd better order the path cleared to the door, and have one of your +cars brought around." + + * * * * * + +Ribiera croaked a repetition of the command. + +"Now stand up--slowly," said Bell evenly. "Very slowly. I don't want +to die, Ribiera, so I don't want to kill you. But I haven't much hope +of escape, so I shan't hesitate very long about doing it. And I've got +these guns' hammers trembling at full cock. If I get a bullet through +my head, they'll go off just the same and kill you." + +Ribiera got up. Slowly. His face was a pasty gray. + +"Your major-domo," Bell told him matter-of-factly, "will go before us +and open every door on both sides of the way to the street. Paula"--he +used her given name without thought, or without realizing it--"Paula +will go and look into each door. If she as much as looks frightened, I +fire, and try to fight the rest of the way clear. Understand? I'm +going to get down to a boat I have ready in the harbor if I have to +kill you and every living soul in the house!" + +There was no boat in the harbor, naturally. But the major-domo moved +hesitantly across the room, looking at his master for orders. For +Ribiera to die meant death or madness to his slaves. The major-domo's +face was ghastly with fear. He moved onward, and Bell heard the sound +of doors being thrust wide. Once he gave a command in the staccato +fashion of a terrified man. Bell nodded grimly. + +"Now we'll move. Slowly, Ribiera! Always slowly.... Ah! That's better! +Paula, you go on before and look into each room. I shall be sorry if +any of your servants follow after you, Ribiera.... Through the +doorway. Yes! All clear, Paula? I'm balancing the hammers very +carefully, Ribiera. Very delicate work. It is fortunate for you that +my nerves are rather steady. But really, I don't much care.... Still +all clear before us, Paula? With the servants nerve-racked as they +are, I believe we'll make it through, even if I do kill Ribiera. +There'll be no particular point in killing us then. It won't help +them. Don't stumble, please, Ribiera.... Go carefully, and very +slowly...." + + * * * * * + +Ribiera's face was a gray mask of terror when they reached the door. A +long, low car with two men on the chauffeur's seat was waiting. + +"Only one man up front, Ribiera," said Bell dryly. "No ostentation, +please. Now, I hope your servants haven't summoned the police, because +they might want to stop me from marching you out there with a gun in +the small of your back. And that would be deplorable, Ribiera. Quite +deplorable." + +With a glance, he ordered Paula into the tonneau. He followed her, +driving Ribiera before him. There seemed to be none about but the +stricken, terrified servant who had opened the door for their exit. + +"My friend," Bell told the major-domo grimly, "I'll give you a bit of +comfort. I'm not going to try to take the Senhor Ribiera away with me. +Once I'm on board the yacht that waits for me, I'll release him so he +can keep you poor devils sane until my Government has found a way to +beat this devilish poison of his. Then I'll come back and kill him. +Now you can tell the chauffeur to drive us to the Biera Mar." + +He settled back in his seat. There were beads of perspiration on his +forehead, but he could not wipe them off. He held the two revolvers +against Ribiera's flabby body. + + * * * * * + +The car turned the corner, and he added dryly: + +"Your servants, Ribiera, will warn your more prominent slaves of my +intention of going on board a yacht. Preparations will be made to stop +every pleasure boat and search it for me. So ... tell your chauffeur +to swing about and make for the flying field. And tell him to drive +carefully, by the way. I've still got these guns on a very fine +adjustment of the trigger-pressure." + +Ribiera croaked the order. Bell was exactly savage enough to kill him +if he did not escape. + +For twenty minutes the car sped through the residential districts of +Rio. The sun was high in the air, but clouds were banking up above the +Pao d'Assucar--the Sugarloaf--and it looked as if there might be one +of the sudden summer thunderstorms that sometimes sweep Rio. + +Then the clear road to the flying field. Rio has the largest +metropolitan district in the world, but a great deal of it is piled on +end, and Rio itself built on most of the rest. The flying field is +necessarily some miles from even the residential districts, for the +sake of a level plain of sufficient area. + +The car shot ahead through practically untouched jungle, interspersed +with tiny clearings in which were patchwork houses that might have +been a thousand miles in the interior instead of so near the center of +all civilization in Brazil. Up smooth gradients. Around beautifully +engineered curves. + + * * * * * + +Bell put aside one revolver long enough to search Ribiera carefully. +He found a pearl-handled automatic, and handed it to Paula. + +"Worth having," he said cheerfully. "I wonder if you'd mind searching +the chauffeur: with that gun at his head I think he'd be peaceful. You +needn't have him stop." + +Paula stood up, smiling a little. + +"I did not think I lacked courage, Senhor," she observed, "but you +have taught me more." + +"_Nil desperandum_," said Bell lightly. He relaxed deliberately. +Matters would be tense at the flying field, and he would need to be +wholly calm. There was little danger of an attempt at rescue here, and +the necessity of being ready to shoot Ribiera at any instant was no +longer a matter of split seconds. + +He watched, while, bent over the back of the front seat, she extracted +two squat weapons from the chauffeur's pockets. + +"Quite an arsenal," said Bell as he pocketed them. He turned +pleasantly to Ribiera. "Now, Ribiera, you understand just what I want. +That big amphibian plane of yours is fairly fast, and once when I was +merely your guest you assured me that it was always kept fueled and +even provisioned for a long flight. When we reach the flying field I +want it rolled out and warmed up, over at the other end of the field +from the flying line. We'll go over to it in the car. + +"And I've thought of something. It worried me, before, because +sometimes if a man's shot he merely relaxes all over. So while we're +at the flying field I'm going to be holding back the triggers of these +guns with my thumbs. I don't have to pull the trigger at all--just let +go and they'll go off. It isn't so fine an adjustment as I had just +now, but it's safer for you as long as you behave. And you might urge +your chauffeur to be cautious. I do hope, Ribiera, that you won't look +as if you were frightened. If there's any hitch, and delay for letting +some fuel out of the tanks or messing up the motors, I'll be very +sorry for you." + + * * * * * + +The car swooped out into bright sunshine. The flying field lay below, +already in the shadow of the banking clouds above. Hangars lay +stretched out across the level space. + +Through the gates. Ribiera licked his lips. Bell jammed the revolver +muzzles closer against his sides. The chauffeur halted the car. Paula +spoke softly to him. He stiffened. Bell found it possible to smile +faintly. + +Ribiera gave orders. There was a moment's pause--the revolver muzzles +went deeper into his side--and he snarled a repetition. The official +cringed and moved swiftly. + +"You have chosen your slaves well, Ribiera," said Bell coolly. "They +seem to occupy all strategic positions. We'll ride across." + +The gears clashed. The car swerved forward and went deliberately +across the wide clear space that was the flying field. It halted near +the farther side. In minutes the door of a hangar swung wide. There +was the sputtering of a not-yet-warmed-up motor. The big plane came +slowly out, its motors coughing now and then. It swung clumsily across +the field, turned in a wide circle, and stopped some forty or fifty +feet from the car. + +"Send the mechanic back, on foot," said Bell softly. + +Again Ribiera found it expedient to snarl. And Bell added, gently, +while the throttled-down motors of the big amphibian boomed on: + +"Now get out of the car." + +Tiny figures began to gaze curiously at them from the row of hangars. +The mechanic, starting back on foot, the four people getting out of +the car, the big plane waiting.... + + * * * * * + +With his revolver ready and aimed at Ribiera's bulk, Bell reached in +the front of the car and turned off the switch. The motor died +abruptly. He put the key in his pocket. + +"Just to get a minute or two extra start," he said dryly. "Climb up in +the plane, Paula." + +She obeyed, and turned at the top. + +"I will cover them until you are up," she said quietly. + +Bell laughed, now. A genuine laugh, for the first time in many days. + +"We do work together!" he said cheerfully. + +But he backed up the ladder. There was a stirring over by the hangars. +The mechanic who had taxied the plane to this spot was a dwindling +speck, no more than a third of the way across the field. But even from +the distant hangars it could be seen that something was wrong. + +"Close the door, Paula," said Bell. He had seated himself at the +controls, and scanned the instruments closely. + +This machine was heavy and large and massive. The boat-body between +the retractable wheels added weight to the structure, and when Bell +gave it the gun it seemed to pick up speed with an irritating +slowness, and to roll and lurch very heavily when it did begin to +approach flying speed. The run was long before the tail came up. It +was longer before the joltings lessened and the plane began to rise +slowly, with the solid steadiness that only a large and heavily loaded +plane can compass. + + * * * * * + +Up, and up.... Bell was three hundred feet high when he crossed the +hangars and saw tiny faces staring up at him. Some of the small +figures were pointing across the field. The big plane circled widely, +gaining altitude, and Bell gazed down. Ribiera was gesticulating +wildly, pointing upward to the soaring thing, shaking his fist at it, +and making imperious, frantic motions of command. + +Bell took one quick glance all about the horizon. Toward the sea the +sun shone down brilliantly upon the city. Inland a broad white wall of +advancing rain moved toward the coastline. And Bell smiled frostily, +and flung the big ship into a dive and swooped down upon Ribiera as a +hawk might swoop at a chicken. + +Ribiera saw the monster thing bearing down savagely, its motors +bellowing, its nose pointed directly at him. And there is absolutely +nothing more terrifying upon the earth than to see a plane diving upon +you with deadly intent. A panic that throws back to non-human +ancestors seizes upon a man. He feels the paralysis of those ancient +anthropoids who were preyed upon by dying races of winged monsters in +the past. That racial, atavistic terror seizes upon him. + +Bell laughed, though it sounded more like a bark, as Ribiera flung +himself to the ground and screamed hoarsely when the plane seemed +about to pounce upon him. The shrill timbre of the shriek cut through +the roaring of the motors, even through the thick padding of the big +plane's cabin walls that reduced that roaring to a not intolerable +growl. + + * * * * * + +But the plane passed ten feet or more above his head. It rose, and +climbed steeply, and passed again above the now buzzing, agitated +hangars, and climbed above the hills behind the flying field as some +men went running and others moved by swifter means toward the shaken, +nerve-racked Ribiera, on whose lips were flecks of foam. + +Bell looked far below and far behind him. The incredible greenness of +tropic verdure, of the jungle which rings Rio all about. The many +glitterings of sunlight upon glass, and upon the polished domes of +sundry public buildings, and the multitudinous shimmerings of the +tropic sun upon the bay. The deep dark shadow of the banking clouds +drew a sharp line across the earth, and deep in that shadow lay the +flying field, growing small and distant as the plane flew on. But +specks raced across the wide expanse. In a peculiar, irrational +fashion those specks darted toward a nearly invisible speck, and +encountered other specks darting away from that nearly invisible +speck, and gradually all the specks were turned about and racing for +the angular, toy-block squares which were the hangars of the +aeroplanes of the city of Rio de Janeiro. + +Little white things appeared from those hangars--planes being thrust +out into the open air while motes of men raced agitatedly about them. +One of them was suddenly in motion. It moved slowly and clumsily +across the ground, and then abruptly moved more swiftly. It seemed to +float upward and to swing about in mid-air. It came floating toward +the amphibian, though apparently nearly stationary against the sky. +Another moved jerkily, and another.... + + * * * * * + +Just before the big plane dived into the wide white wall of falling +water, the air behind it seemed to swarm with aircraft. + +In the cabin of the amphibian, of course, the bellowing of the motors +outside was muffled to a certain degree. Paula clung to the seats and +moved awkwardly up to the place beside Bell. She had just managed to +seat herself when the falling sheet of water obliterated all the +world. + +"Strap yourself in your seat," he said in her ear above the persistent +tumult without. "Then you might adjust my safety-belt. Well be flying +blind in this rain. I hope the propellers hold." + +She fumbled, first at the belt beside his upholstered chair, and only +afterward adjusted her own. He sent a quick glance at her. + +"Shouldn't have done that," he said quietly. "I can manage somehow." + +The plane lurched and tumbled wildly. He kicked rudder and jerked on +the stick, watching the instrument board closely. In moments the wild +gyrations ceased. + +"The beginning of this," he said evenly, "is going to be hectic. +There'll be lightning soon." + +Almost on his words the gray mist out the cabin windows seemed to +flame. There was thunder even above the motors. But the faint, +perceptible trembling of the whole plane under the impulse of its +engines kept on. Bell kept his eyes on the bank and turn indicator, +glancing now and then at the altimeter. + +"We've got to climb," he said shortly, "up where the lightning is, +too. We want to pass the Serra da Carioca with room to spare, or we'll +crash on it." + +There was no noticeable change in the progress of the plane, of +course. Rain was dashing against the windows of the cabin with an +incredible velocity. Rain at a hundred miles an hour acts more like +hail than water, anyhow, and Bell was trusting grimly to the hope that +the propellers were of steel, which will withstand even hail, and a +hope that the blast through the engine cowlings would keep the wiring +free of water-made short circuits. + + * * * * * + +But the air was bad beyond belief. At times the plane spun like +thistledown in a vast and venomous flood that crashed into the +windows with a vicious rattling. Lightning began and grew fiercer. It +seemed at times as if the plane were whirling crazily in sheer +incandescent flame. The swift air-currents at the beginning of a +tropic thunderstorm were here multiplied in trickiness and velocity by +the hills of the Serra da Carioca, and Bell was flying blind as well. +The safety-belts were needed fifty times within twenty minutes, as the +big ship was flung about by fierce blasts that sometimes blew even the +rain upward for a time. And over all, as the amphibian spun madly, and +toppled crazily and fought for height, there was the terrific, +incessant crashing of thunder which was horribly close, and the +crackling flares of lightning all about. + +"I'm going to take a chance," said Bell curtly above the uproar, with +the windows seeming to look out upon the fires of hell. "I think we're +high enough. The compass has gone crazy, but I'm going to risk it." + +Again there was no perceptible alteration in the motion of the ship, +but he fought it steadily toward the west. And it seemed that he +actually was passing beyond the first fierce fringe of the storm, +because the lightning became--well, not less frequent, but less +continuous. + + * * * * * + +And suddenly, in a blinding flare of light that made every separate +raindrop look like a speck of molten metal, he saw another airplane. +It was close. Breath-takingly close. It came diving down out of +nowhere and passed less than twenty yards before the nose of the +amphibian. It glistened with wet, and glittered unbearably in the +incredible brightness of the lightning. Every spot and speck and +detail showed with an almost ghastly distinctness. But it dived on +past, its pilot rigid and tense and unseeing, plunging like a meteor +straight downward. The golden, iridescent mist of rain closed over its +body. And it was gone. + +Ten minutes later Bell was driving onward through a gray obscurity, +which now was no more than tinted pink by receding lightning-flashes. +The air was still uneven and treacherous. The big plane hurtled +downward hundreds of feet in wild descending gusts among the hills, +and was then flung upward on invisible billows of air for other +hundreds of feet. But it was less uncontrollable. There were periods +of minutes when the safety-belts did not come into use. + + * * * * * + +And later still, half an hour perhaps, the steadiness of the air gave +assurance that the plane was past the range of the Serra da Carioca +and was headed inland. He drove on, watching his instruments and +flying blind, but with a gathering confidence in an ultimate escape +from the swarm of aircraft Ribiera had sent aloft in the teeth of the +storm to hunt for him. The motors hummed outside the padded cabin. The +girl beside him was very quiet and very still and very pale. + +"We want to get out of this before long," he said in her ear, "and +then we can find out where we are, and especially begin to make some +plans for ourselves." + +Her eyes turned to him. There was a curious stiffness in her manner. +It might have seemed reserve, but Bell recognized the symptoms of a +woman whose self-control is hanging by a thread. He smiled. + +"Hold on a while yet," he said gently. "I know you want to cry. But +please hold on a while yet. When we reach friends...." + +Her hands went to her throat, and he could feel the effort of will +that kept her voice steady. + +"Friends? We have no friends." She managed a smile. "The Senhor +Ribiera explained to me when I arrived at his house how it was that no +questions would be asked about my disappearance. My father is dead. +The newspapers this morning said that it was not known whether he +killed himself or was assassinated. The Senhor Ribiera has given +orders to his slaves. The newspapers of this afternoon will inform a +horrified world that you and I, together, murdered my father that we +might flee together with such of his riches as he had actually +gathered together for me to take away. We are murderers, my friend. +Cables and telegraph wires are reporting the news. The daughter of the +Minister of War of the Republic of Brazil was assisted by her lover to +murder her father. She has fled with him. Now--where are we still to +find friends?" + + * * * * * + +Bell stared, for the fraction of an instant. One thought came to him, +and was checked. The Trade does not exist, anywhere. The Trade would +not help. And murderers are always duly handed over when the +Government of the United States is requested politely to do so by +another nation. Always. And so far as the whole civilized world was +concerned they were murderers. Even the employees of the flying field +who were not subject to The Master would swear to the strictly +accurate story of their escape together. + +"It is just scandalous enough and horrible enough," said Bell quietly, +"to be reprinted everywhere as news. You're right. We haven't any +friends. We're up against it. And so I think we'll have to hunt down +and kill The Master. Then we'll be believed. And there are just two of +us, with what weapons we have in our pockets, to attack. How many +thousands of slaves do you suppose The Master has by now?" + +And, quite suddenly, he laughed. + + +CHAPTER VII + +The sun was sinking slowly when the plane appeared above the valley. +There was only jungle below. Jungle, and the languid river which now +flowed sluggishly into a wide and shallow pool in which drowned trees +formed a mass of substance neither land nor marsh nor river. The +river now contracted to a narrow space and showed signs of haste, and +even foaming water, and then again flowed placidly onward, sometimes +even a hundred yards in breadth. Shadows of the mountains to the west +were creeping toward the opposite hill-flanks, darkening the thick +foliage and sending flocks of flying things home to their chosen +roosts. + +The sound of the plane was a buzzing noise, which grew louder to a +sharp drone as it seemed to increase in size, and became a dull +monotonous roar as it dipped toward the waters of the stream. It +floated downward, very gently, and circled as if regarding a certain +spot critically, and resumed its onward flight. Again it circled, +anxiously, now, as if the time for alighting were short. + +It seemed to hesitate in mid-air, and dived, and circled up-stream and +came down the valley again. It sank, and sank, lower and lower, until +the white of its upper wings was hidden by the tall trees on either +side. + +A _jabiru_ stork saw it from downstream, solemnly squatting on four +eggs which eventually would perpetuate the race. The _jabiru_ was +about forty feet above the water and had a clear view of the stream. +The stork squatted meditatively, with its long, naked neck projecting +above the edge of its nest. + + * * * * * + +The plane dipped ever lower, its reflection vivid and complete upon +the waveless stream below it. Ten feet above the water. Five--and +swift ripples from the rush of air disturbed the unbroken reflections +behind. It was almost a silhouette against the mirrored appearance of +the sunset sky. And then a clumsy-seeming boat body touched water with +a vast hissing sound, and settled more and more heavily, while the +speed of the plane checked markedly and its motors roared on +senselessly. + +Then, abruptly, the plane checked and partly swung around. The +_jabiru_ half-rose from its eggs. The motors were bellowing wildly +again. As if tearing itself free, the plane sheered off from some +invisible obstacle, one of its wing tip floats splashed water wildly, +and, with the motors thundering at their fullest speed, it went toward +the shore with a dragging wing, like some wounded bird. + +It beached, and the _jabiru_ heard a sudden dense silence fall. A man +climbed out of the boatlike body. He walked to the bow and dropped to +the shore. He peered under the upward slanting nose of the boat-thing. +The _jabiru_, listening intently, heard words. + +Then, quite suddenly and quite abruptly, and generally with the +unostentatious efficiency with which Nature manages such things in the +tropics, night fell. It was dark within minutes. + + * * * * * + +The noise of Bell's scrambling back onto the deck of the amphibian's +hull could be heard inside the cabin. He opened the door and slipped +down inside. + +"There ought to be some lights," he said curtly. "Ribiera did himself +rather well, as a rule." + +He struck a match. Paula's eyes shone in the match-flame, fixed upon +his face. He looked about, frowning. He found a switch and pressed it, +and a dome-light came into being. The cabin of the plane, from a place +of darkness comparable to that of the jungle all about, became +suddenly a cosy and comfortable place. + +"Well?" said Paula quietly. + +Bell hesitated, and took a deep breath. + +"We're stuck," he said wryly. "We must have struck a snag or perhaps a +rock, just under water. Half the bottom of the hull's torn out. +There's no hope of repair. If I hadn't given her the gun and beached +her, we'd have sunk in mid-stream." + +Paula said nothing. + +"Things are piling on us," said Bell grimly. "In the morning I'll try +to make a raft. We can't stay here indefinitely. I'll hunt for maps +and we'll try to plan something out. But I'll admit that this business +worries me--the plane being smashed." + + * * * * * + +He passed his hand harassedly over his forehead. To have escaped from +Rio was something, but since Paula had told him Ribiera's plans, it +was clearly but the most temporary of successes. Cabinet ministers are +not so commonplace but that the scandalous and horrifying crime that +was imputed to Bell and Paula would be printed in every foreign +country. Newspapers in Tokio would include the supposed murder in +their foreign news, and in Bucharest and even Constantinople it would +merit a paragraph or two. Assuredly every South American country would +discuss the matter editorially, even where The Master's deputies did +not order it published far and wide. There would be pictures of Bell +and of Paula, labeled with an infamy. In every town of all Brazil +their faces would be known, and those who were The Master's slaves +would hunt them desperately, and all honorable men would seek them for +a crime. Even in America there would be no safety for them. The Trade +does not exist, officially, and a member of the Trade must get out of +trouble as he can. As an accused murderer, Bell would be arrested +anywhere. As worse than a mere murderess, Paula.... + +She was watching his face. + +"This morning," she said queerly, "you--you quoted '_Nil +desperandum_.'" + +Bell ground his teeth, and then managed to smile. + +"If I looked like I needed you say that," he said coolly, "I deserve +to be kicked. Let's look for something to eat, and count up our +resources. The thing to do is, when you fall down--bounce!" + +He managed a nearly genuine grin, then, and to his intense amazement, +she sobbed suddenly and bent her head down and began to weep. He +stared at her in stupefaction for an instant, then swore at himself +for a fool. Her father.... + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later he roused her as gently as he could. It was +helplessness, as much as anything else, that had made him leave her +alone; but a woman needs to weep now and then. And Paula assuredly had +excuse. + +"Here's a cup of coffee," he said practically, "which you must drink. +You can't have had anything to eat all day. Have you?" + +That question had haunted him too. She had been a prisoner in +Ribiera's house for half an hour, possibly more. And Ribiera had in +his possession, and used, a deadly, devilish poison from some unknown +noxious plant. Its victim took the poison unknowingly, in a morsel of +food or a glass of water or of wine. And for two weeks there was no +sign of evil. And then the poison drove its victim swiftly mad--unless +the antidote was obtained from Ribiera. And Ribiera administered the +antidote with a further dose of poison. + +If Paula had eaten one scrap of food or drunk one drop of water while +Ribiera's captive.... + +She understood. She looked up suddenly, and read the awful anxiety in +his eyes. + +"No. Nothing." She caught her breath and steadied herself with an +effort of the will. "I understand. You tried not to let me fear. But I +ate nothing, touched nothing. I have not that to fear, at least." + +"Drink this coffee," said Bell, smiling. "Ribiera was a luxurious +devil. There's canned stuff and so on in a locker. He was prepared for +a forced landing anywhere. Flares and rockets will do us no good, but +there are a pair of machetes and a sporting rifle with shells. We +don't need to die for a bit, anyhow." + + * * * * * + +Paula obediently took the coffee. He watched her anxiously as she +drank. + +"Now some soup," he urged, "and the rest of this condensed stuff. And +I've found some maps and there's a radio receiving outfit if--" + +Paula managed to smile. + +"You want to know," she said, "if I can endure listening to it. Yes. +I--I should not have given way just now. But I can endure anything." + +Bell still hesitated, regarding her soberly. + +"I've heard," he said awkwardly, "that in Brazil the conventions...." + +She waited, looking at him with her large eyes. + +"I hoped," said Bell, still more unhappily, "to find this place +Moradores, where you said you had some relatives. I hoped to find it +before dark. But before I landed I knew I'd missed it and couldn't +hope to locate it to-night. I thought--" + +"You thought," said Paula, smiling suddenly, "that my reputation would +be jeopardized. And you were about to offer--" + +Bell winced. + +"Of course I don't mean to act like an ass," he said apologetically, +"but some people...." + +"You forget," said Paula, with the same faint smile, "what the +newspapers will say of us, Senhor. You forget what news of us the +cables have carried about the world. I think that we had better forget +about the conventions. As the daughter of a Brazilian, that remark is +heresy. But did you know that my mother came from Maryland?" + +"Thank God!" said Bell relievedly. "Then you can believe that I'm not +thinking exclusively of you, and maybe we'll get somewhere." + +Paula put out her hand. He grasped it firmly. + +"Right!" he said, more cheerfully than ever before. "Now we'll turn on +the radio and see what news we get." + + * * * * * + +Into the deep dark jungle night, then, a strange incongruity was +thrust. Tall trees loomed up toward the stars. A nameless little +stream flowed placidly through the night and, beached where +impenetrable undergrowth crowded to the water's edge, a big amphibian +plane lay slightly askew, while a light glowed brightly in its cabin. +More, from that cabin there presently emerged the incredible sound of +music, played in Rio for _os gentes_ of the distinctly upper strata of +society by a bored but beautifully trained orchestra. + +The _jabiru_ stork heard it, and craned its featherless neck to stare +downward through beady eyes. But it was not frightened. Presently, +instead of music, there was a man's voice booming in the disconnected +sounds of human speech. And still the _jabiru_ was unalarmed. Like +most of the birds whose necks are bald, the _jabiru_ is a useful +scavenger, and so is tolerated in the haunts of men. And if man's +gratitude is not enough for safety, the _jabiru_ smells very, very +badly, and no man hunts his tribe. + + * * * * * + +Bell had been listening impatiently, when a sudden whining, whistling +noise broke into the program of very elevated music, played utterly +without rest. The sound came from the speaker, of course. + +He frowned thoughtfully. The whistling changed in timbre and became +flutelike, then changed again, nearly to its original pitch and tone. + +Paula was not listening. Her mind seemed very far away, and on +subjects the reverse of pleasurable. + +"Listen!" said Bell suddenly. "You hear that whistle? It came on all +at once!" + +Paula waited. The whistling noise went on. It was vaguely discordant, +and it was monotonous, and it was more than a little irritating. Again +it changed timbre, going up to the shrillest of squealings, and back +nearly to its original sound an instant later. + +Bell began to paw over maps. The plane had been intended for flight +over the vast distances of Brazil, and there was a small supply of +condensed food and a sporting rifle and shells included in its +equipment. Emergency landing fields are not exactly common in the back +country of South America. + +"Here," said Bell sharply. "Here is where we are. It must be where we +are! No towns of any size nearby. No railroad. No boat route. Nothing! +Nothing but jungle shown here!" + + * * * * * + +He frowned absorbedly over the problem. + +"What is it?" asked Paula. + +"Someone near," said Bell briefly. "That's another radio receiver, an +old fashioned regenerative set, sensitive enough and reliable enough, +but a nuisance to everyone but its owner--except when it's a godsend, +as it is to us." + +The music ended, and a voice announced in laboriously classic +Portuguese, with only a trace of the guttural tonation of the +_carioca_, that the most important news items of the day would be +given. + +Paula paled a little, but listened without stirring. The voice +read--the rustling of sheets of paper was abnormally loud--a bit of +foreign news, and a bit of local news, and then.... + +She was deathly pale when the announcement of her father's death was +finished, and she had heard the official view of the police +reported--exactly what Ribiera had told her it would be. When the +voice added that a friend of the late Minister of War, the Senhor +Ribiera, had offered twenty contos for the capture of the fugitive +pair, who had escaped in an airplane stolen from him, she bit her lip +until it almost bled. + + * * * * * + +"I know," he said abstractedly. "It's as you said. But listen to that +whistle." + +The news announcement ceased. Music began again. The whistling +abruptly died away. + +"I just found some coils," said Bell feverishly, "that plug in to take +the place of the longer-wave ones. I'm going to try them. It's a +hunch, and it's crazy, but...." + +There were sharp clickings. The radio receiver was one of those +extraordinarily light and portable ones that are made for aircraft. In +seconds it was transformed into a short-wave receiver. Bell began to +manipulate the dials feverishly. Two minutes. Three. Four. + +The speaker suddenly began to whine softly and monotonously. + +"Regeneration," said Bell feverishly, "on a carrier-wave. It can't be +far off, that receiving set." + +Suddenly a voice spoke. It was blurred and guttural. Infinitely +delicate adjustments cleared it up. And then.... + +Bell listened eagerly, at first in triumph, then in amazement, and at +last in a grim satisfaction. Reports from Rio on a short-wave band of +radio frequencies were passing from Ribiera to some other place +apparently inland. It was Ribiera's own voice, which quivered with +rage as he reported Bell's escape. + +"_I do not think_," he snapped in Portuguese, "_that full details +should be spoken even on beam wireless. I shall come to the_ fazenda +_to-morrow and communicate with The Master direct. In the meantime I +have warned all sub-deputies in Brazil. I urge that all deputies be +informed and instructed as The Master may direct._" + + * * * * * + +Another voice replied that The Master would be informed. In the +meantime the deputy for Brazil was notified. + +This list of bits of information chilled Bell's blood. This man, of +Venezuela, had been denied the grace of The Master by the deputy in +Caracas. He would probably use the passwords and demand the grace of +The Master of sub-deputies in the State of Para. To be seized and +Caracas informed. The deputy in Colombia desired that the son of +Colonel Garcia--upon a hunting-party with friends in the Amazon +basin--should be attached to the service of The Master. His father had +been so attached, and it was believed had smuggled a letter into the +foreign mail warning his son. If possible, that letter should be +intercepted. And from Paraguay the deputy requested that the family of +Senor Gomez, visiting relatives in Rio, should be induced to regard +the service of The Master as desirable.... + +The orders ceased abruptly. Ribiera acknowledged them. The whining +whistle cut off. And Bell turned to Paula very grimly indeed. + +"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked in a vast calmness. "Apparently every +nation on the continent has some devil like Ribiera in charge of the +administration of this fiendish poison. Every republic has some fiend +at work in it. And they're organized. My God! They're organized! The +Master seems to supply them with the mixture of poison and its +antidote, and they report to him...." + + * * * * * + +Paula nodded. + +"That was what my father had written down for you," she said quietly. +"Any man who can be lured to eat or drink anything these men have +prepared is lost. He gains no pleasure, as a drug might give. He is +entrapped into a lifetime of awful fear, knowing that a moment's +disobedience, a moment's reluctance to obey whatever command they +give, will cause his madness." + +"I'm trying to think what we can work out of this," said Bell shortly. +"Some things are clear. There's a radio receiving set nearby, which +listened to those short-wave reports. Within five or six miles, at +most. We're going to find that to-morrow. And there's a central point, +a _fazenda_, where one may talk direct with The Master, whoever and +wherever he may be. And--judging by Ribiera--my guess is that The +Master has the same hold upon them that they have on their underlings. +Ribiera is too arrogant a scoundrel to make obsequious reports if he +were not afraid to omit them." He was silent for a moment, thinking. +Then he said abruptly, "Try to get some sleep, if you can. That pistol +of Ribiera's--you have it handy? Keep it where you can reach it in the +dark. I'm going to watch, though." + +Paula settled herself comfortably, and looked queerly across the dimly +lit little cabin at him. + +"My friend," she said with the faintest of quavering smiles, "Please +do not reassure me. I have the courage of endurance, at least. And--I +do not fear you." + + * * * * * + +It seemed to Bell, listening in the darkness that fell when he turned +off the switch, that she stayed awake for a long time. But when she +did sleep, she slept heavily. + +Bell had a raft of canes afloat beside the amphibian when she waked. +He was sweat-streaked and bitten by many insects. He was tired, and +his clothes were rags. But the raft was nearly twenty feet long, it +would easily float two persons and what small supplies the plane +carried, and it could be handled by a long pole. + +"Hullo," he said cheerfully when she climbed on top of the waterlogged +hull of the plane. "We're nearly ready to start off. I'm sorry I can't +advise you to try to refresh yourself in the river. There are some +fish in it that are fiends. One of them took a slice out of the side +of my hand." + +"_Piranhas!_" she exclaimed, and was pale. "You should have known!" + +_Piranhas_ are small fresh-water fish of the Brazilian rivers, never +more than a foot and a half long, which prove the existence of a +devil. Where they swarm in schools they will tear every morsel of +flesh from a swimmer's body as he struggles to reach shore, and leave +a clean-stripped skeleton of a mule or horse if an animal should essay +to swim a stream. + +"I'll ask, next time," said Bell ruefully. "I'd planned a swim. But if +you'll fix some coffee while I finish up this raft, we'll get going. I +don't think we're far from some place or other. I heard what sounded +suspiciously like a motor boat, about dawn." + + * * * * * + +She looked at him anxiously. + +"Of course," said Bell, smiling, "if the boat belonged to whoever +listened in on the Rio broadcast _and_ the short-wave news, he won't +be especially friendly, though he should be glad to see us. But I've +been studying the map, and I have a rather hopeful idea. Let's have +coffee." + +He grinned as long as she was in sight, and when he went into the +cabin of the plane he seemed more cheerful still. But the idea of +floating down this nameless little jungle stream upon a raft of canes +was not one that he would have chosen. It was forced upon him. To +travel through the jungle itself was next to impossible with a girl, +especially as they were dressed for city streets and not at all for +battling with dense and thorn-studded undergrowth. And to stay with +the plane was obviously absurd. Sooner or later they had to abandon +it, though the moment they did desert it they would be encountering +not only the impersonal menace of the jungle, but the actual enmity of +all the human race. The raft was the only possibility. + + * * * * * + +It floated smoothly enough when they started off, with Bell working +inexpertly with his long pole to keep it in mid-stream. He was, of +course, acutely apprehensive. In country like this a rapid could be +expected anywhere. The jungle life loomed high above their heads on +either side, and the life of the jungle went on undisturbed by their +passage. Monkeys gaped at them and exchanged undoubtedly witty +comments upon their appearance. Birds flew overhead with raucous and +unpleasant cries. Toucans, in particular, made a most discordant din. +Once they disturbed a tiny herd of peccaries, drinking, which regarded +them pugnaciously and trotted sturdily out of sight as they came +abreast. + +But for one mile, for two, the stream flowed smoothly. A third.... And +Paula pointed ahead in silence. A dug-out projected partly from the +shoreline. Bell wielded his long pole cautiously now, and drew closer +and ever closer to the stream bank. Paula pointed again. There was +even a small dock--luxury unthinkable in these wilds. + +The raft touched bottom. And suddenly from somewhere out of sight +there came a horrible and a bestial sound. It was a scream of +blood-lust, of madness, of overpowering and unspeakable rage. +Following it came cackling laughter. + +Paula went white. + +"The _fazenda_," said Bell softly, "of the sub-deputy who was +listening in on Ribiera last night. And it sounds as if someone were +very much amused. Some poor devil...." + +Paula shuddered. + +"I'm going ashore," said Bell, smiling frostily. "There's nothing else +to do." + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Crouched at the edge of the jungle, where the clearing began, Paula +heard four shots. Two in quick succession, and a wait of minutes. Then +a third, and another long wait, and then the last. Then silence. Paula +began to shiver. Bell had helped her ashore from the raft and insisted +on her waiting at the edge of the jungle. + +"Not that you'll be any safer," he had told her grimly, "but that I +may be. One person can move more quickly than two. And if I'm chased +I'll plunge for the place you're hidden, and you can open fire. Then +the two of us might hold them off." + +"Why?" Paula said slowly. + +And Bell caught at her wrist. + +"Don't let me hear you talk like that!" he said sharply. "We're going +to beat this thing! We've got to! And being desperate helps, but being +in despair doesn't help a bit. Buck up!" + +He frowned at her until she smiled. + +"I will not despair again without your permission," she told him. +"Really. I will not." + +He found her a hiding-place and went cautiously out into the clearing, +still frowning. + + * * * * * + +He had been gone five minutes before the first shot sounded, and quite +ten before the last rang out dully, and was echoed and re-echoed +hollowly by the jungle trees. And Paula lay waiting by the edge of the +clearing, Ribiera's pearl-handled automatic in her hand--Bell had +carried the rifle from the plane. Small insects moved all about her, +and she heard soft rustlings as the life of the jungle went on over +her head and under her feet, and terror welled up in her throat. + +She was trembling almost uncontrollably when Bell came back. He walked +openly toward her hiding-place. + +"Paula." + +She came out, trying to steady her quivering lips. + +"We're all right," said Bell grimly. "This is the _fazenda_ of a +sub-deputy. I suspect, also, it's an emergency landing field for +Ribiera on the way to that place he talked to last night. There's a +two-place plane here with both wheels and floats, in a filthy little +shed. It seems to be all right. We're going to take off in it and try +to make Moradores, where your people are. What's the matter?" + +Her face was deathly pale. + +"I thought," she said with some difficulty, "when I heard the shots--I +thought you were killed." + +Bell shook his head. + +"I wasn't," he said grimly. "It was four other men who were killed." + + * * * * * + +He led her carefully past the house. It was a fairly typical _fazenda_ +dwelling, if more substantial than most. It was wholly unpretentious, +with whitewashed walls, and the effect of grandeur it would give to +natives of this region would come solely from the number of buildings. +There were half a dozen or more. + +"I killed four men," repeated Bell coldly. "And I'm damned glad of it. +That scream we heard.... I know pretty well what happened here last +night. Remember, Ribiera spoke of using a beam-wireless to make his +report. He must have had a short-wave beam set somewhere on the +outskirts of Rio, aimed at whatever headquarters he reports to. He's +going up to that headquarters some time to-day, by plane, of course. +He needed emergency landing fields along the route, and here he picked +out a native and made him a sub-deputy. Charming...." + +Moving past the buildings, Paula caught sight of massive wooden bars +set in the side of a building. Something crumpled up and limp lay +before them. + +"Don't look over there," said Bell harshly. "There was a woman in this +house and she told me what happened, though I'd guessed it before. The +sub-deputy was here last night with a party of friends. Newly +enslaved, some of them. He entertained them.... Up at Ribiera's place +a girl told me she and her husband had been shown a Secret Service +man. He went mad before their eyes. It was an object-lesson for them, +a clear illustration of what would happen to them if they ever +disobeyed. I imagine that something of the sort is used by all The +Master's deputies to convince their slaves of the fate that awaits +them for disobedience. The local man had brought a party up to watch +two men go mad. After that sight they'll be obedient." + + * * * * * + +He reached a shed, huge, but in disrepair. Monster doors were ajar. +Bell heaved at them and swung them wide. A small, trim, two-seated +plane showed in the shadowy interior. + +"This is for emergency use," said Bell grimly, "and we face an +emergency. I'll get it out and load it up. There's a dump of gas and +so on here. You might look around outside the door, in case the one +man who got away can find someone to help stop me." + +He set to work checking on fuel and oil. He loaded extra gas in the +front cockpit, a huge tin of it. Another would crowd him badly in the +pilot's cockpit in the rear, but he stowed it as carefully as he +could. + +"The local sub-deputy," he added evenly, "has added to the thrill by +having the two men put in one cage. He let his guests observe the +progress of the madness the damned poison produces. And presently, as +the madness grew, the two men fought. They were murder mad. The local +sub-deputy gave his guests the thrill of watching maniacs battling to +the death. He left early this morning with his party, and I imagine +that everyone was suitably submissive to his demands for the future. +There were four men and a woman left as caretakers here. I found the +four men before the cage, baiting the poor devil who'd killed the +other last night. That's why we heard the scream. When I came up with +my rifle they stared at me, and ran. + + * * * * * + +"I got one then, and as a matter of mercy I put a bullet through the +man who'd gone murder mad. The"--Bell sounded as if he were acutely +nauseated--"the man he'd killed was still in the cage. My God!... Then +I went looking for the other three men. Wasting time, no doubt, but I +found them. I was angry. I got one, and the others ran away again. A +little later the third man jumped me with a knife. He slit my sleeve. +I killed him. Didn't find the fourth man." Bell moved to the front of +the plane. "I'll see if she catches." + +He swung on the stick. It went over stiffly. Again, and again. With a +bellow, the motor caught. Bell shouted in Paula's ear. + +"We'll get in. Use the warming-up period to taxi out. We want to get +away as soon as we can." + +He helped her up into the seat, then remembered. He rummaged about and +flung a tumbled flying suit up in the cockpit with her. + +"If you get a chance, put it on!" he shouted. He stepped into a +similar outfit, reached up and throttled down the motor, and kicked +away the blocks under the wheels. He vaulted up into place. And slowly +and clumsily the trim little ship came lurching and rolling out of the +shed. + + * * * * * + +The landing field was not large, but Bell took the plane to its edge. +He faced it about, and bent below the cockpit combing to avoid the +slip stream and look at his maps again, brought from the big +amphibian. Something caught his eye. Another radio receiving set. + +"Amphibian planes," he muttered, "for landing on earth or water. And +radios. I wonder if he has directional for a guide? It would seem +sensible, and if a plane went down the rest of them would know about +where to look." + +Paula reached about and touched his shoulder. She pointed. There was a +movement at the edge of the jungle and a puff of smoke. A bullet went +through the fusilage of the plane, inches behind Bell. He frowned, +grasped the stick, and gave the motor the gun. + +It lifted heavily, like all amphibians, but it soared over the group +of buildings some twenty or thirty feet above the top of the wireless +mast and went on, rising steadily, to clear even the topmost trees on +the farther side of the stream by a hundred feet or more. + +It went on and on, roaring upward, and the jungle receded ever farther +below it. The horizon drew back and back. At two thousand feet the +earth began to have the appearance of a shallow platter. At three +thousand it was a steep sided bowl, and Bell could look down and trace +the meandering of the stream on which he had landed the night before. +Not too far downstream--some fifteen miles, perhaps--were the squalid, +toy sized structures of a town of the far interior of Brazil. He never +learned its name, but even in his preoccupation with the management +of the plane and a search for landmarks, he wondered very grimly +indeed what would be the state of things in that town. If in Rio, +where civilization held sway, Ribiera exercised such despotic though +secret power, in a squalid and forgotten little village like this the +rule of a sub-deputy of The Master could be bestial and horrible +beyond belief. + + * * * * * + +Eastward. Bell had overshot the mark the night before. Before he had +located himself he was quite fifty miles beyond the spot Paula had +suggested as a hiding place. Now he retraced his way. A peak jutting +up from far beyond the horizon was a guiding mark. He set the plane's +nose for it, and relaxed. + +The motor thundered on valorously. Far below was a vast expanse of +thick jungle, intercepted but nowhere broken by occasional small +streams and now and then the tiny, angular things which might be +houses. But houses were very infrequent. In the first ten miles--with +a view of twenty miles in every direction--Bell picked out no more +than four small groups of buildings which might be the unspeakably +isolated _fazendas_ of the folk of this region. + +"Ribiera was coming this way," he muttered. + +He fumbled the headphone of the radio set into place. The set seemed +to be already arbitrarily tuned. He turned it on. There was a +monotonous series of flashes, with the singing note of a buzzer in +them. A radio direction signal. + +"Ribiera's on the way." + +Bell stared far ahead, without reason. And it seemed to him that just +then, against that far distant guiding peak, he saw a black speck +floating in mid-air. + + * * * * * + +He pulled back the joy stick. Detached, feathery clouds spread across +the sky, and he was climbing for them. Paula looked behind at him, and +he pointed. He saw her seem to stiffen upon sight of the other +aircraft. + +In minutes Bell's plane was tearing madly through sunlit fleecy +monsters which looked soft and warm and alluring, and were cold and +damp and blinding in their depths. Bell kept on his course. The two +planes were approaching each other at a rate of nearly two hundred +miles an hour. + +And then, while the harsh, discordant notes of the radio signal +sounded monotonously in his ears, Bell stared down and, through a rift +between two clouds, saw the other plane for an instant, a thousand +feet below. + +The sun shone upon it fiercely. Its propeller was a shimmering, +cobwebby disk before it. It seemed to hang motionless--so short was +Bell's view of it--between earth and sky: a fat glistening body as of +a monstrous insect. Bell could even see figures in its cockpits. + +Then it was gone, but Bell felt a curious hatred of the thing. Ribiera +was almost certainly in it, headed for the place to which he had +spoken the night before. And Bell was no longer able to think of +Ribiera with any calmness. He felt a personal, gusty hatred for the +man and all he stood for. + + * * * * * + +His face was grim and savage as his own plane sped through the clouds. +But just as the two aircraft had approached each other with the +combined speed of both, so they separated. It seemed only a moment +later that Bell dipped down below the clouds and the other plane was +visible only as a swiftly receding mote in the sunlight. + +"I wonder," said Bell coldly to himself, with the thunder of the motor +coming through the singing of the air route signal, "I wonder if he'll +see the ship I cracked up last night?" + +Paula was pointing. The shoulder of a hill upthrust beneath the +jungle. The tall trees were cleared away at its crest. Small, +whitewashed buildings appeared below. + +"Good landing field," said Bell, his eyes narrowing suddenly. "On the +direct route. Fifty miles back there's another landing field. I +wonder...." + +He was already suspicious before he flattened out above the house, +while dogs fled madly. He noticed, too, that horses in a corral near +the buildings showed no signs of fright. And horses are always afraid +of landing aircraft, unless they have had much opportunity to grow +accustomed to them. + +The little plane rolled and bumped, and gradually came to a stop. Bell +inconspicuously shifted a revolver to the outer pocket of his flying +suit. Figures came toward them, with a certain hesitating reluctance +that changed Bell's suspicions even while it confirmed them. + + * * * * * + +"Paula," he said grimly, "this is another landing field for Ribiera's +emergency use. It sticks out all over the place. Relatives or no +relatives, you want to make sure of them. You understand?" + +Her eyes widened in a sudden startled fear. She caught her breath +sharply. Then she said quietly, though her voice trembled: + +"I understand. Of course." + +She slipped out of the plane and advanced to meet the approaching +figures. There were surprised, astounded exclamations: A bearded man +embraced her and shouted. Women appeared and, after staring, embraced. +Paula turned to wave her hand reassuringly to Bell, and vanished +inside the house. + +Bell looked over his instruments, examined the gas in the tank, and +began to work over his maps in the blaring sunlight. He cut out the +switch and the motor stopped with minor hissings of compression. The +maps held his attention, though he listened keenly as he worked for +any signs of trouble that Paula might encounter. + +He was beginning to have a definite idea in his mind. Ribiera had +talked to a headquarters somewhere, by beam radio from Rio. Beam +wireless, of course, is nothing more or less than a concentration of +a radio signal in a nearly straight line, instead of allowing it to +spread about equally on all sides of the transmitting station. It +makes both for secrecy and economy, since nearly all the power used at +the sending apparatus is confined to an arc of about three degrees of +a circle. Directed to a given receiving station, receiving outfits to +one side or the other of that path are unable to listen in, and the +signal is markedly stronger in the chosen path. Exactly the same +process, of course, is used for radio directional signals, one of +which still buzzed monotonously in Bell's ears until he impatiently +turned it off. A plane in the path hears the signal. If it does not +hear the signal, it is demonstrably off the straight route. + + * * * * * + +Bell, then, was in a direct line from Rio to the source of a radio +direction signal. Fifty miles back, where the big amphibian had +crashed, he was in the same air line. To extend that line on into the +interior would give the destination of Ribiera, and the location of +the headquarters where direct communication with The Master was +maintained. + +He worked busily. His maps were in separate sheets, and it took time +to check the line from Rio. When he had finished, he computed grimly. + +"At a hundred miles in hour...." He was figuring the maximum distance +which could plausibly be accepted as a day's journeying by air. He +surveyed the maps again. "The plateau of Cuyaba, at a guess. Hm.... +Fleets of aircraft could practise there and never be seen. An army +could be maneuvered without being reported. Certainly the headquarters +for the whole continent could be there. Striking distance of Rio, +Montevideo, Buenos Aires, La Paz, and Asuncion. Five republics." + + * * * * * + +Certainly, from his figures, it seemed plausible that somewhere up on +the Plateau of Cuyaba--where no rails run, no boats ply, and no +telegraph line penetrates; which juts out ultimately into that +unknown region where the Rio Zingu and the Tapajoz have their +origins--certainly it seemed plausible that there must lie the +headquarters of the whole ghastly conspiracy. There, it might be, the +deadly plants from which The Master's poison was brewed were grown. +There the deadly stuff was measured out and mixed with its temporary +antidote.... + +Paula came back, a young man with her. Her eyes were wide and staring, +as if she had looked upon something vastly worse than death. + +"He--Ribiera," she gasped. "My uncle, he owned this place. They--have +him here--alive--and mad! And all the rest...." + +Bell fumbled in the pocket of his flying suit. The young man with +Paula was looking carefully at the plane. And there was a revolver in +a holster at his side. An air of grim and desperate doggedness was +upon him. + +"This is--my cousin," gasped Paula. "He--and his wife--and--and--" + + * * * * * + +The young man took out his weapon. He fired. There was a clanging of +metal, the screech of tortured steel. Bell's own revolver went off the +fraction of a second too late. + +"You may kill me, Senhor," said the young man through stiff lips. His +revolver had dropped from limp fingers. He pressed the fingers of his +left hand upon the place where blood welled out, just above his right +elbow. "You may kill me. But if you and my cousin Paula escaped.... I +have a wife, Senhor, and my mother, and my children. Kill me if you +please. It is your right. But I have seen my father go mad." Sweat, +the sweat of agony and of shame, came out upon his face. "I fought +him, Senhor, to save the lives of all the rest. And I have spoiled +your engine, and I have already sent word that you and Paula are here. +Not for my own life, but...." + +He waited, haggard and ashamed and desperate and hopeless. But Bell +was staring at the motor of the airplane. + +"Crankcase punctured," he said dully. "Aluminum. The bullet went right +through. We can't fly five miles. And Ribiera knows we're here--or +will." + + +CHAPTER IX + +There was the sound of weeping in the house, the gusty and hopeless +weeping of women. Bell had been walking around and around the plane, +staring at it with his hands clenched. Paula watched him. + +"I am thinking," she said in an attempt at courage, "that you said I +must not despair without your permission. But--" + +"Hush!" said Bell impatiently. He stared at the engine. "I'd give a +lot for a car. Bolts.... How many hours have we?" + +"Four," said Paula drearily. "Perhaps five. You have smashed the radio +in the house?" + +Bell nodded impatiently. He had smashed the radio, a marvelously +compact and foolproof outfit, arbitrarily tuned to a fixed short +wave-length. It was almost as simple to operate as a telephone. There +had been no opposition to the destruction. Paula's cousin had disabled +their plane and reported their presence. He was inside the house now, +sick with shame--and yet he would do the same again. In one of the +rooms of the house, behind strong bars, a man was kept who had been an +object-lesson.... + +"Is there any machinery?" asked Bell desperately. "Any at all about +the place?" + +Paula shook her head. + +"It may be that there is a pump." + +Bell went off savagely, hunting it. He came back and dived into the +cockpit of the plane. He came out with a wrench, and his jaws set +grimly. He worked desperately at the pump. He came back with two +short, thick bolts. + +He crawled into the plane again, tearing out the fire wall +impatiently, getting up under the motor. + +"We have one chance in five thousand," he said grimly from there, "of +getting away from here to crash in the jungle. Personally, I prefer +that to falling into Ribiera's hands. If your cousin or anybody else +comes near us, out here, call me, and I'll be much obliged." + + * * * * * + +There was the sound of scraping, patient, desperate, wholly +unpromising scraping. It seemed to go on for hours. + +"The wrench, please, Paula." + +She passed it to him. The bullet had entered the aluminum crankcase of +the motor and pierced it through. By special providence it had not +struck the crankshaft, and had partly penetrated the crankcase on the +other side. Bell had cut it out, first of all. He had two holes in the +crankcase, then, through which the cylinder oil had drained away. And +of all pieces of machinery upon earth, an aircraft motor requires oil. + +Bell's scraping had been to change the punctured holes of the bullet +into cone shaped bores. The aluminum alloy was harder than pure +aluminum, of course, but he had managed it with a knife. Now he fitted +the short bolts in the bores, forced the threads on them to cut their +own grooves, and by main strength screwed them in to a fit. He +tightened them. + +He came out with his eyes glowing oddly. + +"The vibration will work them loose, sooner or later," he observed +grimly, "and they may not be oil tight. Also, the crankshaft may clear +them, and it may not. If we go up in the ship in this state we may get +five miles away, or five hundred. At any minute it may fail us, and +sooner or later it will fail us. Are you game to go up, Paula?" + + * * * * * + +She smiled at him. + +"With you, of course." + +He began to brush off his hands. + +"There ought to be oil and gas here," he said briefly. "Another thing, +there'll probably be some metal chips in the crankcase, which may +stop an oil line at any minute. It's a form of committing suicide, I +imagine." + +He went off, hunting savagely for the supplies of fuel and lubricant +which would be stored at any emergency field. He found them. He was +pouring gasoline into the tanks before what he was doing was noticed. +Then there was stunned amazement in the house. When he had the +crankcase full of oil the young man came out. Bell tapped his revolver +suggestively. + +"With no man about this house," he said grimly, "Ribiera will put in +one of his own choice. And you have a wife and children and they'll be +at that man's mercy. Don't make me kill you. Ribiera may not blame you +for my escape if you tell him everything--and you're hurt, anyway. +Either we get away, and you do that, or you're killed and we get away +anyhow." + +He toppled two last five gallon tins of gasoline into the +cockpits--crowding them abominably--and swung on the prop. The engine +caught. Bell throttled it down, kicked away the stones with which he +had blocked its wheels, and climbed up into the pilot's cockpit. With +his revolver ready in his lap he taxied slowly over to a favorable +starting point. + + * * * * * + +The ship rose slowly, and headed west again. At three thousand feet he +cut out the motor to shout to Paula. + +"One place is as good as another to us, now. The whole continent is +closed to us by now. I'm going to try to find that headquarters and do +some damage. Afterwards, we'll see." + +He cut in the motor again and flew steadily westward. He rose +gradually to four thousand feet, to five.... He watched his +instruments grimly, the motor temperature especially. There were +flakes of metal in the oil lines. Twice he saw the motor temperature +rise to a point that brought the sweat out on his face. And twice he +saw it drop again. Bits of shattered metal were in the oiling system, +and they had partly blocked the stream of lubricant until the engine +heated badly. And each time the vibration had shifted them, or +loosened them.... + +They had left the big amphibian no earlier than nine o'clock. It was +noon when they took off for the _fazenda_ of Paula's kin. But it was +five o'clock and after when they rose from there with an engine which +might run indefinitely and might stop at any second. + +Bell did not really expect it to run for a long time. He had worked as +much to cheat Ribiera of the satisfaction of a victory as in hopes of +a real escape. But an hour, and the motor still ran. It was +consistently hotter than an aero engine should run. Twice it had gone +up to a dangerous temperature. One other time it had gone up for a +minute or more as if the oiling system had failed altogether. But it +still ran, and the sun was sinking toward the horizon and shadows were +lengthening, and Bell began to look almost hopefully for a clearing in +which to land before the dark hours came. + +Then it was that he saw the planes that had been sent for him and for +Paula. + + * * * * * + +There were three of them, fast two-seaters very much like the one he +drove. They were droning eastward, with all cockpits filled, from that +enigmatic point in the west. And Bell had descended to investigate a +barely possible stream when they saw him. + +The leader banked steeply and climbed upward toward him. The others +gazed, swung sharply, and came after him, spreading out as they came. +And Bell, after one instant's grim debate, went into a maple leaf dive +for the jungle below him. The others dived madly in his wake. He heard +a sharp, tearing rattle. A machine-gun. He saw the streaks of tracers +going very wide. Gunfire in the air is far from accurate. A +machine-gun burst from a hundred yards, when the gun has to be aimed +by turning the whole madly vibrating ship, is less accurate than a +rifle at six hundred, or even eight. Most aircraft duels are settled +at distances of less than a hundred yards. + +It was that fact that Bell counted on. With a motor that might go dead +at any instant and a load of passengers and gas at least equaling that +of any of the other ships, mere flight promised little. The other +ships, too, were armed, at any rate the leader was, and Bell had only +small arms at his disposal. But a plane pilot, stunting madly to dodge +tracer bullets, has little time to spare for revolver work. + + * * * * * + +Bell had but one advantage. He expected to be killed. He looked upon +both Paula and himself as very probably dead already. And he +infinitely preferred the clean death of a crash to either the life or +death that Ribiera would offer them. He flattened out barely twenty +yards above the waving branches that are the roof of the jungle. He +went scudding over the tree tops, rising where the jungle rose, +dipping where it dropped, and behind him the foliage waved wildly as +if in a cyclone. + +The other planes dared not follow. To dive upon him meant too much +chance of a dash into the entrapping branches. One plane, indeed, did +try it, and Bell scudded lower and lower until the wheels of the small +plane were spinning from occasional, breath taking contacts with the +feathery topmost branches of jungle giants. That other plane flattened +out not less than a hundred feet farther up and three hundred yards +behind. To fire on him with a fixed gun meant a dive to bring the gun +muzzle down. And a dive meant a crash. + + * * * * * + +A stream flashed past below. There was the glitter of water, +reflecting the graying sky. A downward current here dragged at the +wings of the plane. Bell jerked at the stick and her nose came up. +There was a clashing, despite her climbing angle, of branches upon the +running gear, but she broke through and shot upward, trying to stall. +Bell flung her down again into his mad careering. + +It was not exactly safe, of course. It was practically a form of +suicide. But Bell had not death, but life to fear. He could afford to +be far more reckless than any man who desired to live. The plane went +scuttling madly across the jungle tops, now rising to skim the top of +a monster _ceiba_, now dipping deliberately. + +The three pursuing planes hung on above him helplessly while the +short, short twilight of the tropics fell, and Bell went racing across +the jungle, never twenty feet above the tree top and with the boughs +behind him showing all the agitation of a miniature hurricane. As +darkness deepened, the race became more suicidal still, and there were +no lighted fields nearby to mark a landing place. But as darkness grew +more intense, Bell could dare to rise to fifty, then a hundred feet +above the tops, and the dangers of diving to his level remained +undiminished. And then it was dark. + + * * * * * + +Bell climbed to two hundred feet. To two hundred and fifty. With more +freedom, now, he could take one hand from the controls. He could feel +the menace of the tumultuously roaring motors in his wake, but he was +smiling very strangely in the blackness. He reached inside his flying +suit and tore away the front of his shirt. He reached down and +battered in the top of one of the five gallon gasoline tins in the +cockpit with the barrel of his revolver. He stuffed the scrap of cloth +into the rent. It was wetted instantly by the splashing. Another +savage blow, unheard in the thunder of the motor. In the peculiarly +calm air of the cockpit the reek of gasoline was strong, but cleared +away. And Bell, with the frosty grim smile of a man who gambles with +his life, struck a light. The cloth flared wildly, and he reached his +hands into the flame and heaved the tin of fuel overside. + +The cloth was burning fiercely, and spilled gasoline caught in +mid-air. A fierce and savage flame dropped earthward. Spark on the +cloth, and the cloud of inflammable vapor that formed where the +leaking tin fell plummetlike, carried the flame down when the wind of +its fall would have blown it out. + +The following planes saw a flash of light. They saw a swiftly +descending conflagration tracing a steep arch toward the tree tops. +They saw that flaming vanish among the trees. And then they saw a vast +upflaring of fire below. Flames licked upward almost to the tree +tops.... + +Bell looked back from two thousand feet. Wing-tip lights were on, +below, and disks of illumination played upon the roof of the jungle +above the fire. The three planes were hovering over the spot. But a +thick dense column of smoke was rising, now. Green things shriveling +in the heat, and dried and rotted underbrush. Altogether, the volume +of smoke and flame was very convincing evidence that an airplane had +burst into flame in mid-air and crashed through the jungle top to burn +to ashes beneath. + + * * * * * + +But Bell climbed steadily to five thousand feet. He cut out the motor, +there, and in the shrieking and whistling of wind as the plane went +into a shallow glide, he spoke sharply. + +"Paula?" + +"I am all right," she assured him unsteadily. "What now?" + +"There's a seat pack under you," said Bell. "It's a parachute. You'd +better put it on. God only knows where we'll land, but if the motor +stops we'll jump together. And I think we'll have to jump before dawn. +This plane won't fly indefinitely. There's just one chance in a +million that I know of. There'll be a moon before long. When it comes +up, look for the glitter of moonlight on water. With the wing-tip +lights we may--we may--manage to get down. But I doubt it." + +He moved his hand to cut in the motor again. She stopped him. + +"If we head south," she said unsteadily, "we may reach the Paraguay. +It is perhaps two hundred miles, but it is broad. We should see it. +Perhaps even the stars...." + +"Good work!" said Bell approvingly. "_Nils desperandum!_ That's our +motto, Paula." + +He swung off his course and headed south. He was flying high, now, and +an illogical and incomprehensible hope came to him. There was no hope, +of course. He had had, more than once, a despairing conviction that +the utmost result of all his efforts would be but the delaying of +their final enslavement to The Master, whose apparent impersonality +made him the more terrible as he remained mysterious. So far they +seemed like struggling flies in some colossal web, freeing themselves +from one snaring spot to blunder helplessly into another. + +But the moon came up presently, rounded and nearly full. The sky took +on a new radiance, and the jungle below them was made darker and more +horrible by the contrast. + +And when there were broad stretches of moonlit foliage visible on the +rising slopes beneath, Bell felt the engine faltering. He switched on +the instrument board light. One glance, and he was cold all over. The +motor was hot. Hotter than it had ever been. The oil lines, perhaps +the pump itself.... + + * * * * * + +Paula's hand reached back into the glow of the instrument board. He +leaned over and saw her pointing. Moonlight on rolling water, far +below. He dived for it, steeply. The wing-lights went on. Faint disks +of light appeared far below, sweeping to and fro with the swaying of +the plane, bobbing back and forth. + +It seemed to Bell that there had been nothing quite as horrible as +the next minute or two. He felt the over-heated, maltreated motor +laboring. It was being ruined, of course--and a ruined motor meant +that they were marooned in the jungle. But if it kept going only until +they landed. And if it did not.... + +White water showed below in the disks of the landing lights' glow. It +tumbled down a swift and deadly _raudal_--a rapid. And then--black, +deep water, moving swiftly between tall cliffs of trees. + +Bell risked everything to bank about and land toward the white water. +The little plane seemed to be sinking into a canyon as the trees rose +overhead on either side. But the moonlit rapid gave him his height, +approximately, and the lights helped more than a little. + + * * * * * + +He landed with a terrific crash. The plane teetered on the very verge +of a dive beneath the surface. Bell jerked back the stick and killed +the engine, and it settled back. + +A vast, a colossal silence succeeded the deafening noise of twelve +cylinders exploding continuously. There were little hissing sounds as +the motor cooled. There was the smell of burnt oil. + +"All right, Paula?" asked Bell quietly. + +"I--I'm all right." + +The plane was drifting backward, now. It spun around in a stately +fashion, its tail caught in underbrush, and it swung back. It drifted +past cliffs of darkness for a long time, and grounded, presently, with +a surprising gentleness. + +"Do you know," said Bell dryly, "this sort of thing is getting +monotonous. I think our motor's ruined. I never knew before that +misfortunes could grow literally tedious. I've been expecting to be +killed any minute since we started off, but the idea of being stuck in +the jungle with a perfectly good plane and a bad motor...." + +He fished inside his flying suit and extracted a cigarette. Then he +lit it. + +"Let's see.... We haven't a thing to eat, have we?" + + * * * * * + +There was a little slapping noise. Bell became suddenly aware of a +horde of insects swarming around him. Smoke served partially to drive +them off. + +"Look here," he said suddenly, "we could unfold a parachute and cover +the cockpits for some protection against these infernal things that +are biting me." + +"We may need the parachute," said Paula unsteadily. "Does--does that +smoke of yours drive them away?" + +"A little." Bell hesitated. "I say, it would be crowded, but if I came +up there, or you here...." + +"I--I'll come back there," she said queerly. "The extra cans of +gasoline here...." + +She slipped over the partition, in the odd flying suit which looks so +much more odd when a girl wears it. She settled down beside him, and +he tried painstakingly to envelope her in a cloud of tobacco smoke. +The plague of insects lessened. + +There was nothing to do but wait for dawn. She was very quiet, but as +the moon rose higher he saw that her eyes were open. The night noises +of the jungle all about them came to their ears. Furtive little +slitherings, and the sound of things drinking greedily at the water's +edge, and once or twice peculiar little despairing small animal cries +off in the darkness. + + * * * * * + +The jungle was dark and sinister, and all the more so when the moon +rose high and lightened its face and left them looking into weird, +abysmal blackness between moonlit branches. Bell thought busily, +trying not to become too conscious of the small warm body beside him. + +He moved, suddenly, and found her fingers closed tightly on the sleeve +of his flying suit. + +"Frightened, Paula?" he asked quietly. "Don't be. We'll make out." + +She shook her head and looked up at him, drawing away as if to scan +his face more closely. + +"I am thinking," she said almost harshly, "of biology. I wonder--" + +Bell waited. He felt an intolerable strain in her tensed figure. He +put his hand comfortingly over hers. And, astoundingly, he found it +trembling. + +"Are all women fools?" she demanded in a desperate cynicism. "Are we +all imbeciles? Are--" + +Bell's pulse pounded suddenly. He smiled. + +"Not unless men are imbeciles too," he said dryly. "We've been through +a lot in the past two days. It's natural that we should like each +other. We've worked together rather well. I--well"--his smile was +distinctly a wry and uncomfortable one--"I've been the more anxious to +get to some civilized place where The Master hasn't a deputy +because--well--it wouldn't be fair to talk about loving you while--" +he shrugged, and said curtly, "while you had no choice but to listen." + + * * * * * + +She stared at him, there in the moonlight with the jungle moving about +its business of life and death about them. And very, very slowly the +tenseness left her figure. And very, very slowly she smiled. + +"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you are lying to me, Charles. Perhaps. +But it is a very honorable thing for you to say. I am not ashamed, +now, of feeling that I wish to be always near you." + +"Hush!" said Bell. He put his arm about her shoulder and drew her +closer to him. He tilted her face upward. It was oval and quite +irresistibly pretty. "I love you," said Bell steadily. "I've been +fighting it since God knows when, and I'm going to keep on fighting +it--and it's no use. I'm going to keep on loving you until I die." + +Her fingers closed tightly upon his. Bell kissed her. + +"Now," he said gruffly, "go to sleep." + +He pressed her head upon his shoulder and kept it there. After a long +time she slept. He stirred, much later, and she opened her eyes again. + +"What is it?" + +"Damn these mosquitos," growled Bell. "I can't keep them off your +face!" + + +CHAPTER X + +For four hours after sunrise Bell worked desperately. With the few and +inadequate tools in the plane he took apart the oiling system of the +motor. It was in duplicate, of course, like all modern air engines, +and there were three magnetos, and double spark plugs. Bell drained +the crankcase beneath a sun that grew more and more hot and +blistering, catching the oil in a gasoline can that he was able to +empty into the main tanks. He washed out innumerable small oil pipes +with gasoline, and flushed out the crankcase itself, and had at the +end of his working as many small scraps of metal as would half fill a +thimble. He showed then to Paula. + +"And the stars in their courses fought against Sisera," he quoted +dryly. "Any one of these, caught in just the right place, would have +let us down into the jungle last night." + +She smiled up at him. + +"But they didn't." + +"No.... God loves the Irish," said Bell. "What's that thing?" + +Paula was fishing, sitting on a fallen tree in the cloud of smoke from +a smudge fire Bell had built for her. She was wearing the oily flying +suit he had found in the shed with the plane, and had torn strips from +her discarded dress to make a fishing line. The hook was made out of +the stiff wire handle of one of the extra gasoline tins. "Hook and +leader in one," Bell had observed when he made it. + + * * * * * + +He was pointing to a flat bodied fish with incredible jaws that lay on +the grass, emitting strange sounds even in the air. It flapped about +madly. Its jaws closed upon a stick nearly half an inch thick, and cut +it through. + +"It is a _piranha_," said Paula. "The same fish that bit your hand. It +can bite through a copper wire fastened to a hook, but this hook is so +long...." + +"Pleasant," said Bell. Something large and red passed before his eyes. +He struck at it instinctively. + +"Don't!" said Paula sharply. + +"Why?" + +"It's a _maribundi_ wasp," she told him "And its sting.... Children +have died of it. A strong man will be ill for days from one single +sting." + +"Still more pleasant," said Bell. "The jungle is a charming place, +isn't it?" He wiped the sweat off his face. "Any more little pets +about?" + +She looked about seriously. + +"There." She pointed to a sapling not far distant. "The _palo santo_ +yonder has a hollow trunk, and in it there are usually ants, which are +called fire-ants. They bite horribly. It feels like a drop of molten +metal on your flesh. And it festers afterwards. And there is a fly, +the _berni_ fly, which lays its eggs in living flesh. The maggot eats +its way within. I do not know much about the jungle, but my father +has--had a _fazenda_ in Matto Grosso and I was there as a child. The +_camaradas_ told me much about the jungle, then." + +Bell winced, and sat down beside her. She had Ribiera's pearl handled +automatic within easy reach. She saw him looking at it. + +"I do not think there is any danger," she said with a not very +convincing smile, "but there are _cururus_--water snakes. They grow +very large." + +"And I asked you to fish!" said Bell. "Stop it!" + + * * * * * + +She hauled the line ashore, with a flapping thing on the end of it. +Bell took the fish off and regarded her catch moodily. + +"I'd been thinking," he said moodily, "that Ribiera suspects we're +dead. I'd been envisioning ourselves as marooned, yes, but relatively +safe as long as we were thought to be dead. And I'd thought that if we +lived a sort of castaway existence for a few weeks we'd be forgotten, +and would have a faint chance of getting out to civilization without +being noticed. But this...." + +"I will stay," she said steadily. "I will stay anywhere or go +anywhere, with you." + +Bell's hand closed on her shoulder. + +"I believe it," he said heavily. "And--if you noticed--I had been +thinking of letting down the Trade. I'd been thinking of not trying to +fight The Master any longer, but only of getting you to safety. In a +sense, I was thinking of treason to my job and my government. I +suspect"--he smiled rather queerly--"I suspect we love each other +rather much, Paula. I'd never have dreamed for anyone else. Go over to +the plane and don't fish any more. I'll rustle the food for both of +us." + +She stood up obediently, smiling at him. + +"But kill that _piranha_ before you try to handle it," she advised +seriously. + +Bell battered the savage thing until it ceased to move. He picked it +up, then, and sniffed the air. Paula had been in a cloud of acrid +smoke. She could not have detected the taint in the air he discovered. +He went curiously, saw a broken branch overhead, and then saw +something on the ground. + + * * * * * + +He came back to the plane presently, looking rather sick. + +"Give me one of the machetes, Paula," he said quietly. "We brought +them, I think." + +"What is the matter?" + +He took the wide-bladed woods knife. + +"A man," he said, nauseated. "He either fell or was thrown from +somewhere high above. From a plane. He was United States Secret +Service. There's a badge in his clothes. Don't come." + +He went heavily over to the spot beyond the smudge fire. He worked +there for half an hour. When he came back there were earth stains on +his hands and clothing, and he carried a very small brown package in +his hand. + +"He had a report ready to send off," said Bell grimly. "I read it. +It's in code, of course, but in the Trade...." + +He set to work savagely on the engine, reassembling it. As he worked, +he talked in savage, jerky sentences. + +"The Service man at Asuncion. One of the seven who vanished. He'd +learned more than we have. He was caught--poisoned, of course--and +pretended to surrender. Told a great deal that he shouldn't, in order +to convince The Master's deputy. The key men in nearly every republic +in South America are in The Master's power. Paraguay belongs to him, +body and soul. Bolivia is absolutely his. Every man of the official +class from the President down knows that he has two weeks or less of +sanity if The Master's deputy shuts down on him--and he knows that at +the crook of the deputy's finger he'll be assassinated before then. If +they run away, they go murder mad. If they stay, they have to obey +him. It's hellish!" + + * * * * * + +He stopped talking to make a fine adjustment. He went on, somberly. + +"Chile's not so bad off, but the deputy has slaves nearly everywhere. +Ecuador--well, the President and half of Congress have been poisoned. +The man I found was trying to get a sample of the poison for analysis. +He'd learned it was unstable. Wouldn't keep. The Master has to send +fresh supplies constantly all over the continent. That accounts for +the deputies remaining loyal. If The Master had reason to suspect +them, he had only to stop their supply.... They couldn't stock up on +the deadly stuff for their own use. So they're as abjectly subject to +The Master as their slaves are to them. No new slaves are to be made +in Paraguay or Bolivia, except when necessary. It's believed that in +six months the other republics will have every influential man +subjected. Every army officer, every judge, every politician, every +outstanding rich man.... And then, overnight, South America will +become an empire, with that devil of a Master as its overlord." + +He lifted one of the oil pumps in place and painstakingly tightened +the bolts that held it. + +"Picture it," he said grimly. "Beasts as viceroys, already taking +their pleasure. Caligulas, Neros, on viceregal thrones all over the +continent.... And every man who shows promise, or shows signs of honor +or courage or decency, either killed or sent mad or...." + + * * * * * + +Paula was watching his face closely. + +"I think," she said soberly, "that there is something worse." + +Bell was silent for an instant. + +"For me," he said bitterly, "it is. Before The Master dares to make +his coup public, he must be sure that there will be no foreign +interference. So, he must establish a deputy in Washington. A +relatively few chosen men, completely enslaved, could hold back our +Government from any action. Leaders in Congress, and members of the +Cabinet, working, in defense of The Master because his defeat would +mean their madness.... He would demand no treason of them at first. He +would require simply that he should not be interfered with. But his +plans include the appointment of deputies in the United States later +on. I don't think he can subdue America. I don't think so. But he +could--and I think he would--send whole cities mad. And if you think +of that...." + + * * * * * + +He was silent, working. A long, long time later he swung on the +propeller. The motor caught. He throttled it down and watched it +grimly. The motor warmed up to normal, and stayed there. + +"It will run," he said coldly. "Those two plugs in the crankcase may +come out at any time. I've tightened them a little. They'd worked +loose from the vibration. But--well.... That Service man was heading +for Asuncion. He'd been found out. They probably shot him down in +mid-air after he'd gotten away. His plane may be crashed anywhere in +the jungle within a mile or so. And I've two bearings on the _fazenda_ +where Ribiera went, now. One from Asuncion through here and one from +Rio. I want to go back there to-night and dump burning gasoline on the +buildings, to do enough damage to disorganize things a little. Then +I'm going to try to make it to a seaport. We can stow away, perhaps." + +He shut off the motor. + +"We'll start at dusk. There'll be lights there. This report says it's +nearly a city--of slaves. We want the darkness for our getaway." + +Paula looked at the sky. + +"We have three hours," she said quietly. "Let us cook and eat. You +must keep up your strength, Charles." + +She said it in all seriousness, with the air of one who has entire +confidence and is merely solicitous. And Bell, who knew of at least +three excellent reasons why neither of them should survive until +dawn--Bell looked at her queerly, and then grinned, and then took her +in his arms and kissed her. She seemed to like it. + +And they lunched quite happily on _piranha_ and _pacu_--which is +smaller--and drank water, and for dessert had more _piranha_. + + * * * * * + +The long afternoon wore away slowly. It was hot, and grew blistering. +Insects came in swarms and tormented them until Bell built a second +and larger smudge fire. But they fastened upon his flesh when he went +out of its smoke for more wood. + +They talked, as well as they could for smoke, and looked at each other +as well as they could for smarting eyes. It was not at all the +conventional idea of romantic conversation, but it was probably a good +deal more honest than most, because they both knew quite well that +their chance of life was small. A plane whose motor was precariously +patched, flying over a jungle without hope of a safe landing if that +patched-up motor died, was bad enough. But with the three nearest +nations subservient to The Master, whose deputy Ribiera was, and all +those nations hunting them as soon as they were known to be yet +alive.... + +"Would it not be wise, Charles," asked Paula wistfully, "just for us +to try to escape, ourselves, and not try--" + +"Wise, perhaps," admitted Bell, "but I've got to strike a blow while I +can." He was staring somberly at the little plane, fast upon a mud +bank, with the tall green jungle all about. "The deputies and all +their slaves have their lives hanging by a thread--the thread of a +constant supply of the antidote to the poison that's administered with +the antidote. The deputies--Ribiera, for instance--don't realize that. +Else they wouldn't dare do the things they do. But let them realize +that the thread can be broken, and what their slaves would do to them +before they all went mad.... You see? Let them learn that a blow has +been struck at the center of all the ghastly thing, and they'll be +frightened. They'll be close to mutiny through sheer panic. And there +may be slip-ups." + + * * * * * + +It was vague, perhaps, but it was true. The subjection of the poisoned +men and women was due not only to terror of what would happen if they +disobeyed the deputies, but to a belief that that thing would not +happen if they did obey. If Bell could do enough damage to the +_fazenda_ of The Master to shake the second belief, he would have +shaken the whole conspiracy. And a conspiracy that is not a complete +success is an utter failure. + +It was close to sunset when they heard a droning noise in the +distance. Bell went swiftly to the cockpit of the plane and searched +the sky. + +"Don't see it," he said grimly, "and it probably doesn't see us. We're +all right, I suppose." + +But he was uneasy. The droning noise grew to a maximum and slowly died +away again. It diminished to a distant muttering. + +"What say," said Bell suddenly, "we get aloft now? We'll follow that +damned thing home. It's going from Asuncion to that place we want to +find. This is on that route. Whoever's in it won't be looking behind, +and it's close to darkness." + + * * * * * + +Paula stood up. + +"I am ready, Charles." + +Bell swung out on the floats and tugged at the prop. The motor caught +and roared steadily. While it was warming up, he stripped off the rest +of his shirt and tore it into wide strips, and tied the rags in the +handles of the gasoline tins in the two cockpits. + +"For our bombs," he explained, smiling faintly. "You'll want to wear +your chute pack, Paula. You know how to work it? And we'll divide the +guns and what shells we have, and stick them in the flying suit +pockets." + +He made her show him a dozen times that she knew how to pull out the +ring that would cause the parachute to open. She climbed into the +front cockpit and smiled down at him. He throttled down the motor to +its lowest speed and shoved off from the mud bank. Clambering up, +while the plane moved slowly over the water under the gentle pull of +the slow-moving propeller, he bent over and kissed her. + +"For luck," he said in her ear. + +The next instant he settled down at the controls, glanced a last time +at the instruments, and gave the motor the gun. + + * * * * * + +The plane lifted soggily but steadily and swept up-stream toward the +rolling water of the _raudal_, which tumbled furiously about an +obstacle half of stones and shallows, and half of caught and rotting +tree trunks. It rose steadily until the trees dropped away on either +side and the jungle spread out on every hand. It rose to a thousand +feet and went roaring through the air to northward, while Bell +strained his eyes for the plane on ahead. + +It was ten minutes or more before he sighted it, winging its way +steadily into the misty distance above the jungle. Bell settled down +to follow. The engine roared valorously. For half an hour Bell watched +it anxiously, but it remained cool and had always ample power. Paula's +head showed above the cockpit combing. Mostly she looked confidently +ahead, but once or twice she turned about to smile at him. + +The sun seemed high when they rose from the water, but as it neared +the horizon its rate of descent seemed to increase. They had been in +the air for no more than three-quarters of an hour when it was twice +its own disk above the far distant hills. Almost immediately, it +seemed, it had halved that distance. And then the lower limb of the +blaring circle was sharply cut off by the hill crests and the sun sank +wearily to rest behind the edge of the world. + +It seemed as if a swift chill breeze blew over the jungle, in warning +of the night. The trees became dark. A shadowy dusk filled the air +even up to where the plane flew thunderously on. And then, quite +abruptly, stars were shining and it was night. + + * * * * * + +Bell remembered, suddenly, and switched on the radio as an experiment. +The harsh, discordant dashes sounded in his ears through the roaring +of the motor. A beam of short waves was being sent out from his +destination. While he was on the direct path the monotonous signals +could be heard. When they weakened or died he would have left the way. + +But they continued, discordant and harsh and monotonous, while the +last faint trace of the afterglow died away and night was complete, +and a roof of many stars glittered overhead, and the jungle lay dark +and deadly below him. + +For nearly half an hour more he kept on. Twice he switched on the +instrument board light to glance at the motor temperature. The first +time it appeared a little high. The second time it was normal again. +But there was little use in watching instruments. If the motor failed +there was no landing field to make for. + +A sudden faint glow sprang into being, many miles ahead. The pinkish +glare of many, many lights turned on suddenly. As the plane thundered +on the glow grew brighter. An illuminated field, for the convenience +of messengers who carried the poison for The Master to all the nations +which were to be subjected. + +The glow went out as Bell was just able to distinguish long rows of +twinkling bulbs, and he saw the harsher, fiercer glow of floodlights. +He reached forward and touched Paula's shoulder. Conversation was +impossible over the motor's roar. Her hand reached up and pressed his. + +Then he saw other lights. Bright lights, as from houses. Arc lights as +from storage warehouses, or something of the sort. A long, long row of +lighted windows, which might be dormitories or perhaps sheds in which +The Master's enslaved secretaries kept the record of his victims. + + * * * * * + +The earth flung back the roaring of the little plane's motor. Bell had +but little time to act before other planes would dart upward to seek +him out. He dived, and the wing tip landing lights went on, sending +fierce glares downward. Twin disks of light appeared upon the earth. +Sheds, houses, a long row of shacks as if for laborers. A drying +field, on which were spread out plants with their leaves turning +brown. A wall about it.... + +"The damned stuff," said Bell grimly. + +He swept on. Jungle, only jungle. He banked steeply as lights flicked +on and off below and as--once--the wing tip lights showed men running +frantically two hundred feet below. + +Then a stream of fire shot earthward, and Bell held up his hand and +arm into the blast of the slip stream. It blew out the blaze that had +licked at his flesh. He stared down. The gas can had left a trailing +stream of fluid behind it as it went spinning down to earth. All that +stream of inflammable stuff was aflame. The can itself struck earth +and seemed to explode, and the trailing mass of fire was borne onward +by the wind and lay across a row of thatch-roofed buildings. An +incredible sheet of fire spread out. The stuff in the drying yard was +burning. + +Bell laughed shortly, and flung over another of his flaming bombs, and +another, and the fourth.... + + * * * * * + +He climbed for the skies, then, as rectangles of light showed below +and planes were thrust out of their lighted hangars. Four huge +conflagrations were begun. One was close by a monster rounded tank, +and Bell watched with glistening eyes as it crept closer. Suddenly--it +seemed suddenly, but it must have been minutes later--flame rushed up +the sides of that tank, there was a sudden hollow booming, and fire +was flung broadcast in a blazing, pouring flood. + +"Their fuel tank!" said Bell, his eyes gleaming in the ruddy light +from below. He shut off his landing lights and went upward, steeply. +"I've played hell with them now!" + +A thousand feet up. Two thousand. Two thousand five hundred.... And +suddenly Bell felt cold all over. The instrument board! The motor was +hot. Hot! Burning! + +He shut it off before it could burst into flames, but he heard the +squealing of tortured, unlubricated metal grinding to a stop. He +leveled out. It was strangely, terribly silent in the high darkness, +despite the roaring of wind about the gliding plane. The absence of +the motor roar was the thing that made it horrible. + +"Paula," said Bell harshly, "one of those plugs came out, I guess. The +motor's ruined. Dead. The ship's going to crash. Ready with your +parachute?" + + * * * * * + +It was dark, up there, save for the glare of fires upon the under +surface of the wings. But he saw her hand, encarmined by that glare, +upon the combing of the cockpit. A moment later her face. She turned, +light-dazzled, to smile back at him. + +"All right, Charles." Her voice quavered a little, but it was very +brave. "I'm ready. You're coming, too?" + +"I'm coming," said Bell grimly. Below them was the city of The Master, +set blazing by their doing. If their chutes were seen descending.... +And if they were not.... "Count ten," said Bell hoarsely, "and pull +out the ring. I'll be right after you." + +He saw the slim little black-clad figure drop, plummetlike, and prayed +in an agony of fear. Then a sudden blooming thing hid it from sight. +Thick clouds of smoke lay over the lights and fires below. + +Bell stepped over the side and went hurtling down toward the earth in +his turn. + +(_To be continued_) + +[Advertisement: ] + + + + +The Cavern World + +_By James P. Olsen_ + +[Illustration: _He aimed it, and the Thing gripping him was hurled +back upon the others._] + +[Sidenote: A great oil field had gone dry--and Asher, trapped far +under the earth among the revolting Petrolia, learns why.] + + +"Impossible! What sort of creatures would they be, that could live two +miles beneath the surface of the earth? Surely, Asher, you are +joking!" + +R. Briggs Johns, mighty power back of Stan-America Oil Corporation, +looked at Blaine Asher closely, expecting to see the chief geologist +and scientist of the company laugh. But Blaine Asher did not laugh. +Serious, his rather thin face grave as he leaned his tall, muscular +body above a torsion machine he was adjusting, there was nothing to +indicate he had the faintest idea of a joke. + +"Why damn it, Asher!" Johns insisted wrathfully, "you don't really +mean that. And"--he took a nervous turn around the laboratory--"if +such a wild thing were possible, what has that to do with our trouble? +You haven't led me on to spend a million dollars drilling a +thirty-six-inch hole, just so you could test a fantastic theory?" + +"You know better than that." Asher wiped his hands and leaned against +a table. Johns, looking into the cool gray eyes of the man before him, +did know better. Blaine Asher was more than just a geologist or +scientist. Well he might be termed a master geo-metallurgist. Johns +nodded, wiping beads of perspiration from his brow. + +"You say impossible--and want to know how those creatures cause this +field, the largest oil field in the world, to start going bone dry +over night. All right: + +"Remember how you laughed when I told you that oil would some day be +mined instead of pumped or flowed from the earth? You couldn't see how +one central shaft could be sunk, then tunnels run back underneath the +oil strata, tapping the sand from the bottom and letting the oil run +down to be pumped out one shaft. Yet, that way, we would get _all_ the +oil, instead of the possible one-eighth of the total amount as we get +by present methods. + +"Now, you have seen that done. And you said that was impossible." + + * * * * * + +"Yes," Johns objected, "but those test wells we mined were only a few +hundred feet deep. Wells in this field are eight thousand feet deep! +Think of the heat, man! You can't do it. And as for people--" + +"Your great field has suddenly gone dry, almost in a month's time," +Asher stopped him. "What is happening here can happen elsewhere. Only, +formations in this field are more suited to there being life--or +something--below us. Stan-America is going broke. Many others have +already gone broke. Still, that oil couldn't have gotten away. + +"As for heat--yes, we know that oil is hot when it comes up from the +oil sand at eight thousand feet, or from ordinary wells at three to +six thousand feet. But"--Asher lit a cigarette and inhaled +deeply--"gas coming out of the same well is _cold_! So cold it forms +frost inches thick on pipes and tanks. + +"Rock pressure--the pressure of the earth--forcing up the gas, causes +that. Why couldn't that same pressure cool great caverns below the +granite cap below the oil sands? It could. For that matter, I know +that same pressure will generate useful power. I'll show you that in a +minute." + +"All right!" Johns chewed his cigar almost savagely. "Say, then, that +you can work down there, nearly two miles underground; granted that we +can tunnel from beneath the sands and pump more oil from one central +shaft than we now do from fifty wells--what has that to do with this +tosh about a race of people?" + +"They are not people, perhaps." Asher grinned at the "there, I've +stuck you!" look on Johns' face. "Let's say, rather, creatures. Have +you ever met Lee Wong, the great Chinese scientist, or his Russian +geological collaborator, Krenski? No? + + * * * * * + +"Well, I have. I met them in Paris in 1935--five years ago. They're +brilliant men, and they've prepared some wonderful papers. Brilliant, +I said: they are also dangerous. They claim, you know, that the +fossils we now drill up come from a lost race--people who went _into_ +the earth while man, like us, was coming up onto the earth from the +water. Some claim those fossils have been on the surface at one time, +and were silted over. But eight thousand feet is a lot of silt, Johns: +ever thought of that?" + +"Good God!" Johns gasped hoarsely. "You almost make me believe you are +right. But, supposing there is such a race of things--what will you +do?" + +"This." Asher drew back a curtain that was stretched across one end of +the laboratory. "You know I was working on a cage in which to descend +into that eight-thousand-foot well you've drilled--the well you're +going to use to try and find why this field is suddenly gone dry. This +it it." + +Johns stared, shook his head wonderingly and stared again. Before him, +ready to be transported to the well that was larger than any ever +drilled before, stood what Blaine Asher called his Miner, for want of +a better name. + +A thick steel tube, it was. Twelve feet long and large enough around +that a man might stand inside of it. The top was welded on in much the +manner a top is welded on an ordinary hot-water heater, and had +connections for hose in it. At the height of a man's eyes heavy +windows were set in, and in one side was a door just large enough to +admit a man's body. This door sealed tight the minute it closed. + +"It looks like--like some sort of a deep sea diving outfit," Johns +said as he walked around the braces that held the Miner upright. "But +all those gadgets inside and on the bottom--?" He indicated the +strange instruments that could be seen when the door was opened, and +the queer glass tubes that projected from the very bottom. + + * * * * * + +"Pressure-power units--my own invention," Asher told him. "For ten +years I've been working on this. I knew that some day I would want to +explore the oil caverns beneath the earth, so I made ready. + +"As I told you, rock pressure, or earth pressure, is a tremendous +thing. It is power, so I figured how to use it. Under artificial +pressure, I have tried out my Miner and its equipment. + +"Those tubes sticking from the bottom contain something you are +familiar with: non-burning and non-explosive helium gas. I have +discovered a way, by their use, to create power that will melt away +rock or iron--literally dissolve it into nothing! Not in an hour, or +minutes. In seconds, Johns! + +"The pressure of the earth acts as my generator. The pressure action +on the filaments of platinum, and several compositions I have no time +to explain now, causes heat. Call it friction of compressed air, if +you wish. As neon gases carry an electric spark, so does this helium +carry the power generated by earth pressure. The pressure below earth +acts on the delicate coils and points of my generator. This bit of +power is carried into the helium tubes, and by a system of vacuum +power, is increased millions of times. Thus, the tiny spark of a cigar +lighter would electrocute a hundred men!" + +"I--you mean somewhat like a violet ray is increased in the lightning +tubes?" Johns strove to grasp the foundation of the thing. + +"Yes, the foundation of it all--with the earth's pressure the power +motive," Asher nodded. "So, after my Miner is on the bottom of our +well, I can burn--or dissolve--a room as large as this laboratory in a +few minutes. The whole thing is no mystery after you learn it--not +nearly so much as radium, or radio, was. Merely creating a spark of +electricity and fanning it through a vacuum and a conductor of massed +gases." + +"But"--Johns had unconsciously dropped his voice to a whisper--"what +of these strange creatures? How would you deal with them? Damn it, +Asher, I think I'm beginning to believe this nutty idea of yours. Any +man who can generate power with the pressure of air as it is packed by +earth must know what he is talking about!" + +"I have but one protection against anything down there that tries to +harm me," Asher said simply. "That is this--see?" + + * * * * * + +What he held up looked like an old-fashioned six shooter. It was +fitted with a platinum-sealed box in the place where a cylinder would +have been. The barrel looked like some queer, blue glass. + +"Do you see that test tube?" Asher pointed to a glass tube on a table +a few feet away. "Now watch." + +He pressed a tiny ratchet under his thumb. A snapping, buzzing noise +filled the laboratory. Johns gave an exclamation of wonder and awe. +Quickly, the test tube started to melt into a pool of molten glass. +Asher increased the pressure of his ratchet trigger. The tube was +knocked to the floor. + +"Static electricity--always some form of electricity," said Asher +grinning at the astonished oil baron. "Conductor coils here," he +continued as he tapped the sealed cylinder, "are charged much as a +flash-lamp battery. The charged conductors attract the static +electricity of the air, and, in a manner similar to the action of the +power generator, increase power. There is a slight difference: by +turning quick power on my static gun, I can cause the charge to knock +down and merely electrocute, as I knocked the half-melted tube from +the table." + +"I can understand that, a little," Johns sighed profoundly. "It's the +same juice that causes a gasoline truck to catch fire if you don't +have a ground chain on it somewhere. But, just the same, I claim it's +remarkable." + +"Not half as remarkable as what I expect to find two miles down when I +descend to-morrow." Asher had a dreamy look in his eyes. "I wonder: +new ways to get petroleum wealth ... a strange people...." + + * * * * * + +"Men,"--Asher, a tight-fitting asbestos composition suit covering him +from foot to neck, spoke tersely--"when you get me on bottom, stop +every bit of machinery, and don't dare pull up until I give the +signal. If I'm down there the entire day, all right. But"--he smiled, +trying to make light of the danger--"if I don't signal within +thirty-six hours, pull up anyhow." + +From the bull-wheels of the drilling rig Asher spooled out some of the +air-hose cable through which air blown over ice would be pumped into +the Miner; then when the long steel cylinder was over the hole and +ready, he turned to the company officials and government scientists +and engineers around him in the boarded-up derrick. + +"Possibly I can get a survey in an hour. Perhaps I'll have to come +back to the surface and make adjustments to my equipment. That remains +to be seen.... Now, let's get low." + +He adjusted a helmet over his head. It looked much like the helmet +worn by a sea diver, except that it had no connecting hose for air. +The windows in the helmet, which contained pressure lights, worked on +the same principle as the disintegrating rays of the Miner. When Asher +turned the ratchet that set the little pressure machine into motion, a +violet tinged green ray of great lighting power shot out and +increased, by weight of air, or atmosphere beneath the earth, the +power of one tiny spark a million times. + +Without ceremony or farewell, Asher crawled inside his tube. The door +was closed and he fastened it from inside. For a moment, wild panic +assailed him. But he fought it off, becoming again less the feeling +human and more the cold calculator of advanced science. The light from +outside, coming in through the windows of the Miner, was shut off. The +long steel cage clanked against the sides of the special casing in the +well, and Blaine Asher was on his trip into a lower world never before +visited by man. + +That was what Asher believed. But, had he known what waited for him, +two miles into the bowels of the earth.... + + * * * * * + +At five hundred feet, the descent stopped, giving him time to adjust +himself to the pressure change. The gas and oil had been eased out of +the hole. That is, the casing had been run on through the producing +strata, shutting it off. Asher signaled by buzzer, and a stream of the +ice-washed air flowed down to him. + +Three thousand feet! Six thousand feet! More than a mile down! Sweat +poured from his body in streams, and the air coming into the Miner +through the hose did not relieve him. It was hot--almost unbearably +so. His ears were roaring. The dark of his tube was relieved as he +turned on his pressure lamps. He adjusted the pressure discs over his +ears by twisting a thumbscrew on his helmet, and the pounding of his +ear-drums ceased. + +Gasping, he watched the depth meter in front of him. It did not seem +as if he was moving, but the indicator now showed more than seven +thousand feet. It moved around slowly and more slowly; trembled at +eight thousand--and stopped. + +Like the snapping of a man's fingers, the temperature inside the Miner +changed. Asher was now fifty feet below the bottom of the oil and gas +sands, and if his theory about rock pressure worked.... It _was_ +working. Frost was forming on the inside of the Miner! + +"I'm right--right--right!" Asher thought, elated, sending his buzzer +signal up to those so far above. The icy air through his hose changed +to air of normal temperature. He signaled for slack in the lowering +cable, then prepared for the greatest test of all. + +Cramped, with hardly room to move, he studied his gages. Helium tubes +at the proper pressure for compressing the tiny spark of the pressure +generator, so it would flare a million times stronger under the action +of the vacuum tubes: diamond and cut-glass tubes in the bottom of the +Miner, thermoed with layers of quicksilver: everything cleared, +everything ready. + + * * * * * + +His hand shaking, Asher pushed the tiny switch that brought his +filament points trembling together under the atmospheric pressure so +far underground. A tiny spark danced and throbbed through the tiny +glass tube before him, beginning to buzz as it started the circuit of +increasing coils, and soon humming and vibrating as the helium and +vacuum tubes swelled it to full power. Spark after spark, increased +almost beyond imagination, followed one after another. The Miner +throbbed and shook. + +White-faced, Asher touched the little lever that opened the blasting +outlets in the bottom. Almost instantly the Miner dropped a full six +inches--went on, down to a foot. Asher, pride of success choking him, +pulled the lever hard over, which brought some of the tubes beneath +him spreading out, to blast away the earth on each side of him. + +He signaled for more and more slack as the depth indicator showed he +had burned, or disintegrated, his way down to thirty feet beyond the +original bottom of the hole. He was below the bottom of the protecting +wall of casing now--at the mercy of the pressure of two miles of +earth. + +Slowly, setting all his bottom tubes to cutting away on all sides of +him, he started hollowing out enough room to step out into. His +lights, when he looked through the windows, showed ghostly on earth +ten feet on each side of him. Ten more minutes and he had created a +room nearly twenty-five feet square--a man-made cave, two miles below +the surface. + +There was something akin to awe in the feelings of Asher when he +opened the little door, crawled out and stood erect. The pressure +lamps in his helmet lit up the room he had made. There were no sounds, +just a vague, ringing silence. + +Then so quickly that it robbed him of his senses, two things happened. +A hundred yards away from the well in which he had descended, another +well, drilled by another oil company, was shot. Three hundred quarts +of nitro-glycerine were set off in the hole. + + * * * * * + +Asher screamed and clamped his ear discs down tight. It seemed the +very gods of thunder were shrieking and raging in his head; every +nerve and fiber in his body throbbed and tingled with the hellish +vibration. + +On his knees, where the shock had thrown him, in darkness beyond +description, Asher realized the lights from the Miner no longer shone +out. Frantically, he adjusted the small lights in his helmet and got +them to sending off their rays again. Then, an icy hand seemed to +squeeze his heart, turning his blood to ice-water in his veins. He +cursed himself for not foreseeing that some company might shoot a well +close by, while he was underground. + +He turned. The Miner was all right, but Blaine Asher was trapped! For +the walls of the hole below the bottom of the casing had caved. Thirty +feet of rock, sand and conglomerate matter were between him and the +bottom of the pipe. + +He was trapped--two miles below the earth. There was no hope of +rescue, the hope that miners feel in deep shafts. There could be no +rescue for Asher. No one could get to him. He cried out his horror, +fighting to keep from swooning. + +The helmet hampered him. He turned on a small pressure lamp attached +to the belt at his waist, and chanced taking the helmet off. Dank and +nauseous was the air that he breathed, since it no longer came through +the filters in his helmet. But it was air that would serve, +nevertheless. + +A crackling, rumbling sound caused him to turn quickly. Eyes wide, he +stared at the long crack that was opening before him. + +Asher was between two layers of granite--one layer under him, and +another above him, just below the oil sands. Now, as the crack between +these two layers widened, he could see it slope downward until it +ended in a great cavern that stretched endlessly away beyond the beams +of his light. + + * * * * * + +It wasn't this crack that caused Blaine Asher, an iron-hearted man of +science, to choke and sag down to a sitting position, his knees +refusing to support him. No--it was the terrible, Godless, +unbelievable _Things_ that scurried around in the smooth rock hall +that stretched away into the cavern. + +Frozen with soul-chilling fear, Asher stared with eyes that bulged. +What were they? Spawned neither of God nor Satan--what could they be? +Black-skinned--or was it skin?--like rubber, with round bodies, like +black basket balls inflated to triple size; bodies that seemed to +ripple, distort, swell and contract with life within life. + +Short, foot-long stems that must have been legs, ending in round balls +that served as feet, no doubt. Tentacles, Asher would have called +them, six feet in length, thick as mighty cables and dotted with +suckers like the tentacles of an octopus. And heads--Asher gagged and +vomited! + +Not heads. Just masses of the black body substance as large as the two +fists of a man. In each head was a crooked black gash for a mouth. +There were no eyes that Asher could see. Yet, these Things seemed to +see one another, and emitted strange, chill, squeaking sounds! + +As Asher watched, the Things sensed his presence. A half hundred of +them rose and started toward him. They did not walk, nor did they +crawl. Undulating, contorting strangely, they came on with incredible +speed, long tentacles waving before them; slithering on the rocky +floor of the cavern; making those odd squeaking noises. + +As they neared him, Asher sprang to his feet, backing up against the +pile of cavings beside the Miner. A long tentacle whipped out and +wrapped around his leg. A short, snout-tentacle quivered toward his +face. There was strength beyond imagining in the grip on him. + + * * * * * + +With an almost animal snarl the man from the earth's surface moved to +protect himself from these creatures, surely of the lowest living +order. He grabbed into the pocket of his loose asbestos composition +suit, and his fingers closed comfortingly around the static gun. + +He aimed it, and the Thing gripping him was hurled back upon the +others. Crackling, snapping viciously, the charges of electricity that +were drawn from the very earth increased in the gun and spumed out +like lightning bolts. The Things squeaked excitedly and surged +forward. Asher's finger pulled the ratchet trigger full force, and +like dew before a strong shaft of sunlight, the gruesome Things were +knocked away. + +Hating the sight, Asher changed the charge of his gun, cutting the +size of the path the volts covered, thereby increasing the potency of +the discharge. The piled bodies sizzled, and to Asher's nose came a +sulphurous smell. Then, there was nothing at all.... + +Sick, he put the gun back into the deep pocket and leaned on the wall. +He turned around again to the pile of cavings that barred his way from +the surface, and dug like a madman with his bare hands. The Miner was +weighed down, and he could not use it anyhow. The blasting tubes were +on the bottom, and could not be shifted to the top. + +Suddenly he stopped his crazed work, raised his head and listened. "My +God!" he gasped hoarsely, "am I stark mad?" He thought he must be, for +the voice of a human being came to his ears. + +"You will be pleased, Blaine Asher, to turn around! And do not make +any foolish moves, I warn you." + +"Lee Wong! Krenski!" Asher turned, face to face with the +super-scientists of whom he had spoken to R. Briggs Johns the day +before. Asher shook his head. More of the terrible dream, this meeting +two humans down in the earth's core. + + * * * * * + +"Most right, honorable Asher." Lee Wong bowed mockingly. He and +Krenski were garbed in loose-fitting garments of much the same style +as Asher. In their hands, they carried static guns. Not the small gun, +such as Asher had concealed in his pocket. More like heavy air drills, +they were. + +Asher frowned at the lamps they carried. He knew by the dazzling +action of the rays that they were pressure lamps. But they gave off +much better light than those of his own invention. They had gone him +one better there. + +"Did--did you see them?" Asher gulped. "And how--how did you get down +here? Tell me!" He took a step toward Lee Wong, intending to lay his +hand on the Chinaman, to make sure he was live flesh and blood, and +not a figment of his disordered brain. + +"Stand where you are!" Lee Wong snapped. He held the heavy static gun +up and Asher felt a light charge tingle his body. "Those Things of +which you speak--I assume you mean the Petrolia. Ah, yes, we see them. +Every day, we see them. For us they work. They work, my dear Blaine +Asher, tapping upward into the oil sands; sands that are burial places +of countless millions of generations of Petrolia; of lost races that +once ruled supreme over these underground worlds. + +"How simple, to take the oil from below--the oil you want so much +above. Someone must do the work. I and Krenski found the Petrolia +ready and willing. Being creatures of feeling, with little sense, we +were able to bend their dying wills to do our work. You see, we made +them feel we would save them, a dying race, from extinction! They do +our bidding." + +Asher was bewildered by the enormity of the thing. "You mean these +Things you have called Petrolia actually work for you? And that you +saved them from becoming extinct?" + + * * * * * + +"Exactly," Lee Wong nodded, seeming to be enjoying himself. "Like +humans of the surface, Petrolia live on the dead. I mean, wherever we +get our living food from the earth, we plant our dead back in that +earth. Petrolia are spawned in beds of petroleum. Just as eels seek +deep water to lay their eggs, so do Petrolia go to the oil strata to +spawn future tribes. + +"When we pump out the oil, they have no--shall we say +"hatching?"--beds. But now, by tapping and bringing down the oil, we +have assured them more spawning pits. They will increase, and we have +made them sense it. For that matter, the very oil they breed in, gives +them sustenance. That is why they are black fleshed and blooded, and +have suckers instead of mouths, as a black man is black through ages +beneath hot suns. + +"It's easy for us, who are wiser than other men, to figure what +oilfield might contain such people. We have a rapid elevator +connecting us to the surface. And--" + +"Then," Asher almost shouted, "I'm not trapped!" + +"No?" Lee Wong wrinkled his forehead quizzically. "You should realize +that we cannot allow you to go back to the surface--alive, or any +other way. We intend to increase the Petrolia, spreading them to other +underground, yet uninhabited worlds. You would spoil that. + +"No, you will never return to the surface. They cannot haul your tube +to the top, so they will think you perished in it. And"--Lee Wong +shrugged--"it might have been better if you had, Mr.--" + +"_I wouldn't!_" the yellow man snarled. He rolled the ratchet of his +static gun and Asher was hurled to the floor by the heavy shock. +Wisely, he stood up, keeping his hands well away from the pocket in +which his own gun rested. He doubted whether his little static gun +could compete with the guns of the others, but it was something. They +had not thought to search him--perhaps they might not. It was his only +hope. + + * * * * * + +Lee Wong bowed low again, motioning Asher to go ahead. "Now you shall +see what we have done. We are proud, and we know you can appreciate +our workings. You will be glad to learn why we do as we are doing; you +will be intrigued as a fellow scientist. Then, so sad to say, you must +perish for having gained that very knowledge." + +Asher shrugged, and through half-closed lids he eyed Lee Wong and the +rather small, slender Krenski, of the high brow and large head. Then +he walked ahead of them. Head up, shoulders back, he walked carelessly +down the wide hall--a hall that led into the main cavern of that +underground empire. + +It was large--fully a hundred feet in a rough square. Not fifteen feet +from floor to ceiling at any point, it followed the course of the two +layers of granite between which it was sandwiched. Other long halls, +or crevices, ran in every direction out of this main cavern. In the +walls, in niches and cracks, the superior pressure lamps had been +placed, throwing a bright, eery light over it all. + +Asher recoiled suddenly at the sight of hundreds of Petrolia that +swarmed the hallways, and they seemed to sense another presence beside +that of Lee Wong or Krenski. A choked, gurgling sound came from the +Chinaman, and they disappeared down the halls, squeaking angrily as +they went. + +"Our control room," explained Lee Wong waving his hand about him. He +pointed to a dozen twenty-four inch pipe-lines that ran along the low +ceiling, coming from as many different halls into the room, but all +going out the same large hall, larger than the rest. "There are the +arteries of our system. There is the oil that is so--shall we say +strangely?--missing in your wells." He smiled, a taunting, mocking +light in his eyes. + +"You well understand how we do it. Above us, just below the oil +strata, is a steel, trough-shaped roof. The oil, tapped from below, +drains into these, and then into these pipe-lines. If we were working +from above, now, we would run it to a central shaft, and pump it out. +We do not want it on the surface, however." + + * * * * * + +"Then why in the name of hell do you want it?" Asher barked, a tense +note of anger in his voice. "And what do you do with it?" These two +were humans. At least, they were in man-form, if not in feeling. And +the Petrolia could be handled. Asher was getting mad, and his fear +ebbed. + +"Come." Lee Wong led the way under the pipe-lines, down the large +hall. Krenski, his heavy static gun ready, walked at Asher's back. +They came out into another cavern that stretched beyond the powerful +lights. The sound of their voices echoed like thunder of the drums of +Thor, and Asher realized this cavern might stretch away in Stygian +blackness for hundreds of miles. + +Asher marveled, for the floor of this cavern dropped at least five +feet below the level of the control room or incoming hallways, forming +a natural reservoir. A reservoir for the big streams of oil that were +pouring into it from the pipe-lines. + +The rumble of the oil as it came in and splashed out in a never-ending +stream, and the rumble of the oil streams above them as the precious +fluid flowed down into the plated drain roof, sounded like the tramp +of the weary feet of the damned, as it echoed back and forth across +the mighty cavern. + +"Our storage." Lee Wong stood at the edge and explained. "Also, as you +may see, a concentration incubator, or spawning bed and food storage +for our Petrolia." + +Blaine Asher looked again at the rippling oil at his feet. He choked +brokenly and stepped back a pace. For the oil near the bank was alive! +It rippled and splashed, teeming with life. By the strange alchemy of +breeding in oil and living on oil as man lives on bread, that lake of +oil was a mass of growing Petrolia. Millions--yes, countless +billions--of them! Hideous, foul Things that would be turned loose +with the rest in that nightmare world--that would be taken to other +buried worlds to start new races. + + * * * * * + +"But why--why?" Asher almost screamed the words at Lee Wong. + +"Petrolia will be our armies, protecting our underground wealth," Lee +Wong answered him. "They will be our faithful workers, under no +command but mine. For, even Krenski has not mastered the over-control +it takes to handle them! + +"Gradually, as happened to the field we are now under, all oil fields +will go dry. We will be getting the oil from below, and putting it in +storage in mother earth. Think, Blaine Asher, what it will mean!" +There was a fanatical light in Lee Wong's beady eyes. + +"A world without petroleum is a world without power. No oil for fuel; +no gasoline, lubricants or by-products of any sort. No airplanes could +fly; tanks, tractors, oil-burning trains and ships; mechanical +appliances--nothing could run. We now take the oil from America. +Later, when our Petrolia have increased and we have devised means of +moving them, we will go to all oil-producing countries. + +"We will secrete the oil and paralyze the world. Now, in Russia and +China and India, our societies are organizing and growing. They will +handle the weakened, powerless nations, and I shall be ruler of the +universe, surface and beneath, with Krenski to aid me, you see. It it +wonderful, is it not? And, knowing what you do, having seen what you +have, could you call it impossible?" + +Blaine Asher groaned. It was not impossible, he knew. Unreal; +monstrous--but never impossible. A region of hideous Petrolia; a world +stripped of automotive and mechanical power, its fuel held in the +hands of a few, far underground--it was terrible to think of. + +And Asher the only one who knew. The only one who could avert such a +thing. The fate of an entire world was in his hands. And he would soon +die. + +Die? No! Blaine Asher swore silently to himself that no power in +existence should keep him from destroying these two fiends. It had to +be done! + +He dared not fail. + + * * * * * + +"Wonderful, stupendous thing," he forced himself to smile. "I'd like +to grasp the hand of the genius who devised and carried out such a +wonderful thing." + +He took a step toward Lee Wong, right hand extended, his left slipping +toward the pocket where his own static gun rested. + +Lee Wong extended his own right band. Something in the chill, flint +look of Asher's eyes must have warned him. Even as Asher's fingers +closed around his hand, he tried to jerk back. + +"Destroy him!" he cried out to Krenski. + +Asher dropped to one knee, letting his static gun remain in his +pocket. His left hand closed around Lee Wong's wrist as the Oriental +tried to pull away. Krenski was bringing the heavy, cylinderlike gun +up and aiming it at Asher. + +Asher twisted on one knee, his teeth gritted, braced to receive the +shock from the gun. He jerked Lee Wong's arm down, heaved and came to +his feet. Crying out, arms and legs flailing, the Chinaman catapulted +toward Krenski--and just at the instant Krenski fired! + +The sickening smell of cindered flesh was in Asher's nostrils as he +turned and ran back up the main hallway. He glanced back over his +shoulder as he ran, and shuddered at the black mass lying at Krenski's +feet. Lee Wong was no more. Wide-eyed, the Russian stared at the thing +at his feet. Then, with a fiendish shriek, turned and brought the gun +into line on the fleeing Asher. + +A crackling charge of electricity singed the back of Asher's head as +he dove head first around the corner of the hall into the control +cavern. He reasoned that Krenski had sent a full charge after him, and +hope kindled higher in his breast. For Asher believed his smaller +static weapon was as strong as that of the other. At that, it would be +a test, and Asher dared not take chances. + + * * * * * + +He crouched in the door of another hallway, waiting. Cursing, Krenski +dashed into the control cavern. Asher brought his gun up and fired. +But even as he pulled the trigger, a long tentacle reached from the +dark crevice behind him and jerked his arm. His charge snapped by the +Russian, warning the other that Asher, too, was dealing with powerful +electric rays that meant death should they touch. + +Asher yielded to the tug of the slimy, sulphur-smelling tentacle, +letting it pull him into the crevice, the charges of Krenski's weapon +crackling by him, leaving his skin dry, and a powdery sensation in his +mouth. + +In the shelter of the crevice, Asher turned his gun upon the Petrolia +that gripped him. The tentacles fell away, fading to nothingness +before the charges that showed quivery blue in the dark. Like +catacombs, one crevice opened into another. Asher darted into the next +crevice and edged cautiously toward the control cavern. + +The angry buzzing and snapping of Krenski's weapon caused him to duck +instinctively, although no deadly charges came his way. + +"Oh, God!" he heard the Russian's high-pitched voice, agonized, +wailing, "they're coming in--they're coming in!" + +A squeaking and slithering, now greater than ever, rose above all +other sounds. And Asher realized what Krenski meant. Lee Wong had said +that only he could control the Petrolia. They were swarming into the +control room now. That was what Krenski was shooting at. + +The squeaking sounds came up the crevice in which Asher was and a +cold, clammy sweat broke out all over him. He could blast a thousand +of them into nothing. But by sheer force, more body than his light +static gun could down, they would overwhelm him. + +His mind raced swiftly. He remembered the location, out in the control +room, of the cage elevator that ran to the surface. It had not been +hurt by the glycerine blast that had trapped Asher. The elevator shaft +from the control room was cased clear into the cavern floor, and the +blast had not jarred this far. + + * * * * * + +He wheeled and sent another charge of static electricity into the +crevice back of him, then lunged out into the control room. It would +be his own weapon against Krenski's, and a chance to gain the bottom +of the shaft. + +Krenski--piled, charred heaps of the Petrolia around him, which had +momentarily cleared the attack--was running across the control room. +Like a seething wave, the foul Petrolia undulated from every crevice +and hallway, coming in to fresh attack. The Russian, terror lending +him speed, raced for the cage at the foot of the shaft that led to the +surface. At the same time Asher ran out. + +Nearly a hundred feet apart, on opposite sides of the cavern, they +stopped. Krenski turned his heavy weapon toward Asher at the same time +Asher sent his own gun crackling and snapping out blue, fiery flame. + +Side-stepping, now crouching, now dodging to this side and that, they +fought their strange duel. Asher's right arm was burned, his hair +singed from his head, and his body jarred again and again as Krenski +touched him. Krenski, groaning through gritted teeth, suffered burns +all over his chest and left leg. + +As the Petrolia came on, and the lightning play of deadly electric +charges continued, Asher made a discovery. He noticed that the rays, +or charges, of the two guns, when they met in mid-air, caused blue +flame, and that the charge went no farther. + +It did it again. The two charges met, crackled to explosion in the +air. Krenski, too, noticed it, and he also noticed that the Petrolia +were almost upon them again. Coming on in a wave that could not be +hurled back. + + * * * * * + +He looked at Asher, and met the dare in Asher's eyes. Straight at each +other, neither moving, they shot their static charges. Neither would +move: it was a challenge from Asher that Krenski had to meet. One of +them would have to die before the other would be able to gain the cage +in the shaft. There could be no compromise, and only one man at a time +could go surfaceward. If they continued to dodge and fight, the +Petrolia would overwhelm them. + +Power against power, they fought it out. + +Asher's finger tightened on his trigger release until it seemed the +skin would split; then he caused his hand to tremble just enough to +make his electric charges cover the space in which Krenski's charges +traveled. Hissing, spitting, flashing explosions, giving off sounds +and light like big explosions of flash powder, the charges met. + +Asher tingled from head to foot, and thrilled to the very marvel of +the thing. Two deadly beams of electricity, holding each other off! + +In one long, continuous flash, the contact point of the charges began +to shift. Closer and closer, as the force of superior charges cleaved +through the other, the contact points neared Krenski. He saw death +upon him, for in another instant, Asher's charges would hurl his own +bolts back upon him. The smaller weapon of Blaine Asher, attracting +more static electric currents by reason of having a small attracting +battery inside, where the larger gun of the other depended upon +magnets for attraction, was triumphing. + +Krenski's mustache and light beard singed and curled. He cried out, +stepped back, throwing up his arms as death flashed through his body. + + * * * * * + +His gun playing about him, Asher raced toward the big valves and gates +that shut off the drain of the pipe-lines. Burning, reeking of sulphur +and burned leather, the Petrolia vanished before him. But, as he +turned, the drainage system that was robbing the field shut off. They +had blocked his way again! + +Too many to blast away altogether, they pressed in. Asher leaped +forward, feet kicking, left fist smashing out, static gun crackling as +if to tell him that nothing could stop them. Tentacles gripped at him, +the foul, stinking smell gagged him. But the squeaks of the Petrolia +maddened him. + +"Squeak, damn you!" Asher shouted wildly, kicking, shooting and +hitting, gaining toward the shaft. "Squeak--for all the damned Things +that ever bred below the earth cannot stop one surface man!" + +He burned and fought his way through and jumped into the cage as his +gun electrocuted two of the Petrolia that tried to weave in after him. +As he slammed the door, Asher was conscious that something was +happening. He hesitated, just long enough to see the cavern start +buckling and caving. The pressure of the oil, now shut off, was +filling back toward the surface, creating a mighty pressure downward. +The surface wells would produce man's power-fuel once more. + +Asher slammed the door, turned on the power, and the cage shot upward. + +A half hour later, those waiting on the floor of the derrick above the +hole in which Asher had gone down, started. Asher, burned, wounded, +blood streaming from his battered body, staggered in and collapsed at +their feet. + + * * * * * + +"I can't believe it! Insane! Impossible! Yet, every well in this field +has started producing again! And when we went to that old, abandoned +wildcat well, we found the shaft opening! I had it covered up, as you +ordered." + +R. Briggs Johns paced up and down the laboratory floor, talking to +Asher, who had just arisen from his bed, two weeks after he had +collapsed at their feet in the derrick. Still bandaged, he was a +different Blaine Asher. His face was lined, and the hair next to his +scalp nearly snow white. + +"I'll be able to do some walking around outside in a few days," Asher +declared as he cleaned a test tube and placed it in a rack. "I can +locate several wells over that underground storage cavern, and you can +recover that oil. But you can't mine this field. + +"Twenty years, perhaps, and you can. But it will take that long for +those Petrolia to die out. We've got to get the oil out from below to +a point where they can no longer spawn. We will apply mining in other +fields--but not here!" + +"Not here," Johns repeated, shuddering. + +"It's up to you to see no one else tries it." Asher lit a cigarette +and nodded at Johns. "Get control of the field--anything. Tell the oil +men something. But don't tell then the truth. They wouldn't believe +you. They would call you raving mad. + +"The world does not know. It would not believe. Can we do other than +remain silent?" + +R. Briggs Johns, sick of thinking of the cavern world and horrible +things below them, knew they could not. + + + + +Brigands of the Moon + +(The Book of Gregg Haljan) + +CONCLUSION OF A FOUR PART NOVEL. + +_By Ray Cummings_ + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +_The First Encounters_ + +[Illustration: Like feathers we were blown with it.] + +[Sidenote: The besieged Earth-men wage grim, ultra-scientific war with +Martian bandits in a last great struggle for their radium-ore--and +their lives.] + + +It seemed, with that first shot from the enemy, that a great relief +came to me--an apprehension fallen away. We had anticipated this +moment for so long, dreaded it. I think all our men felt it. A shout +went up: + +"Harmless!" + +It was not that. But our building withstood it better than I had +feared. It was a flash from a large electronic projector mounted on +the deck of the brigand ship. It stabbed up from the shadows across +the valley at the foot of the opposite crater-wall, a beam of vaguely +fluorescent light. Simultaneously the search-light vanished. + +The stream of electrons caught the front face of our main building in +a six-foot circle. It held a few seconds, vanished; then stabbed +again, and still again. Three bolts. A total, I suppose, of nine or +ten seconds. + +I was standing with Grantline at a front window. We had rigged an +oblong of insulated fabric like a curtain: we stood peering, holding +the curtain cautiously aside. The ray struck some twenty feet away +from us. + +"Harmless!" + +The men in the room shouted it with derision. But Grantline swung on +them. + +"Don't think that!" + +An interior signal-panel was beside Grantline. He called the duty-men +in the instrument room. + +"It's over. What are your readings?" + + * * * * * + +The bombarding electrons had passed through the outer shell of the +building's double-wall, and been absorbed in the rarefied, magnetized +air-current of the Erentz circulation. Like poison in a man's veins, +reaching his heart, the free alien electrons had disturbed the motors. +They accelerated, then retarded. Pulsed unevenly, and drew added power +from the reserve tanks. But they had normalized at once when the shot +was past. The duty-man's voice sounded from the grid in answer to +Grantline's question: + +"Five degrees colder in your building. Can't you feel it?" + +The disturbed, weakened Erentz circulation had allowed the outer cold +to radiate through a trifle. The walls had had a trifle extra +explosive pressure from the room-air. A strain--but that was all. + +"It's probably their most powerful single weapon, Gregg." Grantline +said. + +I nodded. "Yes. I think so." + +I had smashed the real giant, with its ten-mile range. The ship was +only two miles from us, but it seemed as though this projector were +exerted to its distance limit. I had noticed on the deck only one of +this type. The others, paralyzing-rays and heat rays, were less +deadly. + +Grantline commented: "We can withstand a lot of that bombardment. If +we stay inside--" + +That ray, striking a man outside, would penetrate his Erentz suit +within a few seconds, we could not doubt. We had, however, no +intention of going out unless for dire necessity. + +"Even so," said Grantline. "A hand-shield would hold it off for a +certain length of time." + + * * * * * + +We had an opportunity a moment later to test our insulated shields. +The bolt came again. It darted along the front face of the building, +caught our window and clung. The double window-shells were our weakest +points. The sheet of flashing Erentz current was transparent: we could +see through it as though it were glass. It moved faster, but was +thinner at the windows than in the walls. We feared the bombarding +electrons might cross it, penetrate the inner shell and, like a +lightning bolt, enter the room. + +We dropped the curtain corner. The radiance of the bolt was dimly +visible. A few seconds, then it vanished again, and behind the shield +we had not felt a tingle. + +"Harmless!" + +But our power had been drained nearly an aeron, to neutralize the +shock to the Erentz current. Grantline said: + +"If they kept that up, it would be a question of whose power supply +would last longest. And it would not be ours.... You saw our lights +fade down while the bolt was striking?" + +But the brigands did not know we were short of power. And to fire the +projector with a continuous bolt would, in thirty minutes, perhaps, +have exhausted their own power-reserve. + +This strange warfare! It was new to all of us, for there had been no +wars on any of the three inhabited worlds for many years. Silent, +electronic conflict! Not a question of men in battle. A man at a +switch on the brigand ship was the sole actor so far in this assault. +And the results were visible only in the movement of the needle-dials +on our instrument panels. A struggle, so far, not of man's bravery, or +skill, or strategy, but merely of electronic power supply. + + * * * * * + +Yet warfare, however modern, can never transcend the human element. +Before this insult was ended I was to have many demonstrations of +that! + +"I won't answer them," Grantline declared. "Our game is to sit +defensive. Conserve everything. Let them make the leading moves." + +We waited half an hour, but no other shot came. The valley floor was +patched with Earthlight and shadow. We could see the vague outline of +the brigand ship backed up at the foot of the opposite crater-wall. +The form of its dome over the illumined deck was visible, and the line +of its tiny hull ovals. + +On the rocks near the ship, helmet-lights of prowling brigands +occasionally showed. + +Whatever activity was going on down there we could not see with the +naked eye. Grantline did not use our telescope at first. To connect +it, even for local range, drew on our precious ammunition of power. +Some of the men urged that we search the sky with the telescope. Was +our rescue ship from Earth coming? But Grantline refused. We were in +no trouble yet. And every delay was to our advantage. + +"Commander, where shall I put these helmets?" + +A man came wheeling a pile of helmets on a little truck. + +"At the manual porte--other building." + +Our weapons and outside equipment were massed at the main exit-locks +of the large building. But we might want to sally out through the +smaller locks also. Grantline sent helmets there; suits were not +needed, as most of us were garbed in them now, but without the +helmets. + + * * * * * + +Snap was still in the workshop. I went there during this first +half-hour of the attack. Ten of our men were busy there with the +little flying platforms and the fabric shields. + +"How is it, Snap?" + +"Almost all ready." + +He had six of the platforms, including the one we had already used, +and more than a dozen hand-shields. At a squeeze, all of us could ride +on these six little vehicles. We might have to ride them! We planned +that, in the event of disaster to the buildings, we could at least +escape in this fashion. Food supplies and water were now being placed +at the portes. + +Depressing preparations! Our buildings uninhabitable, a rush out and +away, abandoning the treasure.... Grantline had never mentioned such a +contingency, but I noticed, nevertheless, that preparations were being +made. + +"Only that one shot, Gregg?" + +Snap's voice was raised over the clang of the workmen bolting the +little gravity-plates of the last platform. + +"Four blasts. But just the one projector. Their strongest." + +He grinned. He wore no Erentz suit as yet. He stood in torn grimy +work-trousers and a bedraggled shirt, with the inevitable red eyeshade +holding back his unruly hair. Around his waist was the weighted belt +and there were weights on his shoes for gravity stability. + +"Didn't hurt us much." + +"No." + +"When I get the tube-panels in this thing I'll be finished. It'll take +another half-hour. I'll join you. Where are you stationed?" + + * * * * * + +I shrugged. "I was at a front window with Johnny. Nothing to do as +yet." + +Snap went back to his work. "Well, the longer they delay, the better +for us. If only your signal got through, Gregg! We'll have a rescue +ship here in a few hours more." + +Ah, that "if!" + +I turned away. "Can't help you, Snap?" + +"No. Take those shields," he added to one of the men. + +"Take them where?" + +"To Grantline. The front admission porte, or the back. He'll tell you +which." + +The shields were wheeled away on a little cart. I followed it. +Grantline sent it to the back exit. + +"No other move from them yet, Johnny?" + +"No. All quiet." + +"Snap's almost finished." + +The brigands presently made another play. A giant heat-ray beam came +across the valley. It clung to our front wall for nearly a minute. + +Grantline got the reports from the instrument room. He laughed. + +"That helped rather than hurt us. Heated the outer wall. Frank took +advantage of it and eased up the motors." + +We wondered if Miko knew that. Doubtless he did, for another interval +passed and the heat-ray was not used again. + + * * * * * + +Then came a zed-ray. I stood at the window, watching it, faint sheen +of beam in the dimness. It crept with sinister deliberation along our +front building-wall, clung momentarily to our shielded windows and +pried with its revealing glow into Snap's workshop. + +"Looking us over," Grantline commented. "I hope they like what they +see." + +I knew he did not feel the bravado that was in his tone. We had +nothing but small hand weapons: heat-rays, electronic projectors, and +bullet projectors. All for very short-range fighting. If Miko had not +known that before, he could at least make a good guess at it after the +careful zed-ray inspection. With his ship down there two miles away, +we were powerless to reach him. + +It seemed that Miko was now testing the use of all his mechanisms. A +light-flare went up from the dome-peak of the ship. It rose in a slow +arc over the valley, and burst. For a few seconds the two-mile circle +of crags was brilliantly illumined. I stared, but I had to shield my +eyes against the dazzling actinic glare, and I could see nothing. Was +Miko making a zed-ray photograph of our interiors? We had no way of +knowing. + +He was testing his short-range projectors now. With my eyes again +accustomed to the normal Earthlight in the valley, I could see the +stabs of little electronic beams, the Martian paralyzing-rays and +heat-beams. They darted out like flashing swords from the rocks near +the ship. + +Then the whole ship and the crater-wall behind it seemed to shift +sidewise as a Benson curve-light spread its glow about the ship, with +a projector curve-beam coming up and touching the window through which +I was peering. + +"Haljan, come look at these damn girls! Commander--shall I stop them? +They'll kill themselves, or kill us--or smash something!" + + * * * * * + +We followed the man into the building's broad central corridor. Anita +and Venza were riding a midget flying platform! Anita, in her boyish +black garb; Venza with a flowing white Venus-robe. They lay on the +tiny, six-foot oblong of metal, one manipulating its side shields, the +other at the controls. As we arrived, the platform came sliding down +the narrow confines of the corridor, lurching, barely missing a +door-grid projection. Up to skim the low vaulted ceiling, then down to +the floor. + +It sailed past our heads, rising over us as we ducked. Anita waved her +hand. + +Grantline gasped, "By the infernal!" + +I shouted, "Anita, stop!" + +But they only waved at us, skimming down the length of the corridor, +seeming to avoid a smash a dozen times by the smallest margin of +chance, stopping miraculously at the further end, hanging poised in +mid-air, wheeling, coming back, undulating up and down. + +Grantline clung to me. "By the gods of the airways!" + +In spite of my astonished horror I could not but share Grantline's +obvious admiration. Three of four other men were watching. The girls +were amazingly skillful, no doubt of that. There was not a man among +us who could have handled that gravity-platform indoors, not one who +would have had the brash temerity to try it. + +The platform landed with the grace of a humming bird at our feet, the +girls dexterously balancing so that it came to rest swiftly, without +the least bump. + +I confronted them. "Anita, what are you doing?" + +She stood up, flushed and smiling. + +"Practising." + +Imperturbable girls! The product of their age. Oblivious to the +brigand attack, they were in here practising! + +"What for?" I demanded. + +Venza's roguish eyes twinkled at me. Her hands went to her slim hips +with a gesture of defiance. + +She asked, "Are you speaking for yourself or the commander?" + + * * * * * + +I ignored her. "What for?" I reiterated. + +"Because we're good at it," Anita retorted. "Better than any of you +men. If you should need us...." + +"We don't. We won't." I said shortly. + +"But if you should...." + +Venza put in, "If Snap and I hadn't come for you, you wouldn't be +here, Gregg Haljan. I didn't notice you were so horrified to see me +holding that shield up over you!" + +It silenced me. + +She added, "Commander, let us alone. We won't smash anything." + +Grantline laughed, "I hope you won't!" + +A warning call took us back to the front window. The brigand's +search-beam was again being used. It swept slowly along the length of +the cliff. Its circle went down the cliff steps to the valley floor, +and came sweeping up again. Then it went up to the observatory +platform at the summit above us, then back and crept over to the +ore-sheds. + +We had no men outside, if that was what the brigand wanted to +determine. The search-beam presently vanished. It was replaced +immediately by a zed-ray, which darted at once to our treasure sheds +and clung. + +That stung Grantline into his first action. We flung our own zed-ray +down across the valley. It reached the brigand ship; this zed-ray and +a search-light were our only two projectors of long range. + +The brigand ray vanished when ours flashed on. I was with Grantline at +an image grid in the instrument room. We saw the deck of the brigand +ship and the blurred interior of the cabins. + +"Try the search-beam, Franck. We don't need the other." + +The zed-ray went off. We gazed down our search-light which clung to +the dome of the distant enemy vessel. We could see movement there. + +"The telescope," Grantline ordered. + + * * * * * + +The little dynamos hummed. The telescope-finder glowed and clarified. +On the deck of the ship we saw the brigands working with the +assembling of ore-carts. A deck landing-porte was open. The ore-carts +were being carried out through a porte-lock and down a landing +incline. And on the rocks outside, we saw several of the carts--and +rail-sections and the sections of an ore-shute. + +Miko was unloading his mining apparatus! He was making ready to come +up for the treasure! + +The discovery, startling as it was, nevertheless was far overshadowed +by an imperative danger alarm from our main building. Brigands were +outside on our ledge! Miko's search-beam, sweeping the ledge a moment +before, had carefully avoided revealing them. It had been done just +for that purpose, no doubt--making us sure that the ledge was +unoccupied and thus to guard against our own light making a search. + +But there was a brigand group here close outside our walls! By the +merest chance the radiating glow from our search-ray had shown the +helmeted figures scurrying for shelter. + +Grantline leaped to his feet. + +We rushed for the rear exit-porte which was nearest us. The giant +bloated figures had been seen running along the outside of the +connecting corridor, in this direction. But before we ever got there, +a new alarm came. A brigand was crouching at a front corner of the +main building! His hydrogen heat-torch had already opened a rift in +the wall! + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +_Desperate Offensive_ + +"In with you!" ordered Grantline. "Get your helmets on! How many? Six? +Enough--get back there, Williams--you were last. The lock won't hold +any more." + +I was one of the six who jammed into the manual exit lock. We went +through it: in a moment we were outside. It was less than three +minutes since the prowling brigands had been seen. + +Grantline touched me just as we emerged. "Don't wait for orders! Get +them!" + +"That fellow with the torch, the most dangerous--" + +"Yes! I'm with you." + +We went out with a rush. We had already discarded our shoe and belt +weights. I leaped, regardless of my companions. + +The scurrying Martians had disappeared. Through my visor bull's-eye I +could see only the Earthlit rocky surface of the ledge. Beside me +stretched the dark wall of our building. + +I bounded toward the front. The brigand with the torch had been at +this front corner. I could not see him from here: he had been +crouching just around the angle. + +I had a tiny bullet projector, the best weapon for short range +outdoors. I was aware of Grantline close behind me. + +It took only a few of my giant leaps. I landed at the corner, +recovered my balance, and whirled around to the front. + +The Martian was here, a giant misshapen lump as he crouched. His torch +was a little stab of blue in the deep shadow enveloping him. Intent +upon his work, he did not see me. Perhaps he thought his fellows had +broken our exits by now. + + * * * * * + +I landed like a leopard upon his back and fired, my weapon muzzle +ramming him. His torch fell hissing with a silent rain of blue fire +upon the rocks. + +As my grip upon him made audiphone contact, his agonized scream +rattled the diaphragms of my ear-grids with horrible, deafening +intensity. + +He lay writhing under me, then was still. His scream choked into +silence. His suit deflated within my encircling grip. He was dead; my +leaden, steel-tipped pellet had punctured the double surface of his +Erentz-fabric, penetrated his chest. + +Grantline's following leap landed him over me. + +"Dead?" + +"Yes." + +I climbed from the inert body. The torch had hissed itself out. +Grantline swung on our building corner, and I leaned down with him to +examine it. The torch had fused and scarred the surface of the wall, +burned almost through. A pressure-rift had opened. We could see it, a +curving gash in the metal wall-plate like a crack in a glass +window-pane. + +I went cold. This was serious damage! The rarefied Erentz-air would +seep out. It was leaking now: we could see the magnetic radiance of it +all up the length of the ten-foot crack. The leak would change the +pressure of the Erentz system, constantly lower it, demanding steady +renewal. The Erentz motors would overheat; some might go bad from the +strain. + +Grantline stood gripping me. + +"Damn bad!" + +"Yes. Can't we repair it, Johnny?" + +"No. Have to take that whole plate-section out, shut off the Erentz +plant and exhaust the interior air of all this bulkhead of the +building. Day's job--maybe more." + + * * * * * + +And the crack would get worse, I knew. It would gradually spread and +widen. The Erentz circulation would fail. All our power would be +drained struggling to maintain it. This brigand who had unwittingly +committed suicide by his daring act had accomplished more than he +perhaps had realized. I could envisage our weapons, useless from lack +of power. The air in our buildings turning fetid and frigid: ourselves +forced to the helmets. A rush out to abandon the camp and escape. The +buildings exploding--scattering into a litter on the ledge like a +child's broken toy. The treasure abandoned, with the brigands coming +up and loading it on their ship. + +Our defeat. In a few hours now--or minutes. This crack could slowly +widen, or it could break suddenly at any time. Disaster, come now so +abruptly upon us at the very start of the brigand attack.... + +Grantline's voice in my audiphone broke my despairing rush of +thoughts. "Bad. Come on, Gregg; nothing to do here." + +We were aware that our other four men had run along the building's +other side. They emerged now--with the running brigands in front of +them, rushing out toward the staircase on the ledge. Three giant +Martian figures in flight, with our four men chasing. + +A bullet projector spat, with its queer stab of exploding powder fed +by the burning oxygen fumes of its artificial air-chamber--one of our +men firing. A brigand fell to the rocks by the brink of the ledge. The +others reached the descending staircase, tumbled down it with reckless +leaps. + +Our men turned back. Before we could join them, the enemy ship down in +the valley sent up a cautious search-beam which located its returning +men. Then the beam swung up to the ledge, landed upon us. + +We stood confused, blinded by the brilliant glare. Grantline stumbled +against me. + +"Run, Gregg! They'll be firing at us." + +We dashed away. Our companions joined us, rushing back for the porte. +I saw it open, reinforcements coming out to help us--half a dozen +figures carrying a ten-foot insulated shield. They could barely get it +out through the porte. + + * * * * * + +The Martian search-ray abruptly vanished. Then almost instantly the +electronic ray came with its deadly stab. Missed us at first, as we +ran for the shield. It vanished, and stabbed again. It caught us, but +now we were behind the shield, carrying it back to the porte, hiding +behind it. + +The ray stabbed once or twice more. + +Whether Miko's instruments showed him how serious that damage was to +our front wall, we never knew. But I think that he realized. His +search-beam clung to it, and his zed-ray pried into our interiors. + +The brigand ship was active now. We were desperate: we used our +telescope freely for observation. And used our zed-ray and +search-light. Miko's ore-carts and mining apparatus were unloaded on +the rocks. The rail-sections were being carried a mile out, nearly to +the center of the valley. A subsidiary camp was being established +there, only a mile from the base of our cliff, but still far beyond +reach of our weapons. We could see the brigand lights down there. + +Then the ore-shute sections were brought over. We could see Miko's men +carrying some of the giant projectors, mounting them in the new +position. Power tanks and cables. Light-flare catapults--little +mechanical cannons for throwing the bombs. + +The enemy search-light constantly raked our vicinity. Occasionally the +giant electronic projector flung up its bolt as though warning us not +to dare leave our buildings. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour went by. Our situation was even worse than Miko could +know. The Erentz motors were running hot--our power draining, the +crack widening. When it would break we could not tell; but the danger +was like a sword over us. + +An anxious thirty minutes for us, this second interlude. Grantline +called a meeting of all our little force, with every man having his +say. Inactivity was no longer a feasible policy. We recklessly used +our power to search the sky. Our rescue ship might be up there; but we +could not see it with our disabled instruments. No signals came. We +could not--or, at least, did not--receive them. + +"They wouldn't signal," Grantline protested. "They'd know the Martians +would be more likely to get the signal than us. Of what use to warn +Miko?" + +But he did not dare wait for a rescue ship that might or might not be +coming! Miko was playing the waiting game now--making ready for a +quick loading of the ore when we were forced to abandon our buildings. + +The brigand ship suddenly moved its position! It rose up in a low flat +arc, came forward and settled in the center of the valley where the +carts and rail-sections were piled, and the outside projectors newly +mounted on the rocks. But the projectors only shot at us occasionally. + +The brigands now began laying the rails from the ship toward the base +of our cliff. The chute would bring the ore down from the ledge, and +the carts would take it to the ship. + +The laying of the rails was done under cover of occasional stabs from +the electronic projector. + +And then we discovered that Miko had made still another move. The +brigand rays, fired from the depths of the valley, could strike our +front building, but could not reach all our ledge. And from the ship's +new and nearer position this disadvantage was intensified. Then +abruptly we realized that under cover of darkness-bombs an electronic +projector and search-ray had been carried to the top of the +crater-rim, diagonally across and only half a mile from us. Their +beams shot down, raking all our vicinity from this new angle. + + * * * * * + +I was on the little flying platform which sallied out as a test to +attack these isolated projectors. Snap and I and one other volunteer +went. He and I held the shield; Snap handled the controls. + +Our exit-porte was on the lee side of the building from the hostile +search-beam. We got out unobserved and sailed upward; but soon a light +from the ship caught us. And the projector bolts came up.... + +Our sortie only lasted a few minutes. To me, it was a confusion of +crossing beams, with the stars overhead, the swaying little platform +under me, and the shield tingling in my hands when the blasts struck +us. Moments of blurred terror.... + +The voice of the man beside me sounded in my ears: "Now, Haljan, give +them one!" + +We were up over the peak of the rim with the hostile projectors under +us. I gauged our movement, and dropped an explosive powder bomb. + +It missed. It flared with a puff on the rocks, twenty feet from where +the two projectors were mounted. I saw that two helmeted figures were +down there. They tried to swing their grids upward, but could not get +them vertical to reach us. The ship was firing at us, but it was far +away. And Grantline's search-beam was going full-power, clinging to +the ship to dazzle them. + +Snap circled us. As we came back I dropped another bomb. Its silent +puff seemed littered with flying fragments of the two projectors and +the bodies of the men. + +We flew swiftly back and got in. + + * * * * * + +It decided Grantline. For an hour past Snap and I had been urging our +plan to use the gravity platforms. To remain inactive was sure defeat +now. Even if our buildings did not explode--if we thought to huddle in +them, helmeted in the failing air--then Miko could readily ignore us +and proceed with his loading of the treasure under our helpless gaze. +He could do that now with safety--if we refused to sally out--for we +could not fire our weapons through our windows.[1] + +[Footnote 1: To fire a projector through the walls or windows would at +once wreck the protective Erentz system. The enemy ship has pressure +portes, constructed for the emission of the weapon-rays. Grantline's +only weapons thus mounted were his search-beam and zed-ray.] + +To remain defensive would end inevitably in our defeat. We all knew it +now; it was obvious. The waiting game was Miko's--not ours! And he was +playing it. + +The success of our attack upon the distant isolated projectors +heartened us. Yet it was a desperate offensive indeed upon which we +now decided! + +We prepared our little expedition at the larger of the exit portes. +Miko's zed-ray was watching all our interior movements. We made a +brave show of activity in our workshop with abandoned ore-carts which +were stored there. We got them out, started to recondition them. + +It seemed to fool Miko. His zed-ray clung to the workshop, watching +us. And at the distant porte we gathered the little platforms, the +shields, helmets, bombs, and a few hand-projectors. + +There were six platforms--three of us upon each. It left four people +to remain indoors. + + * * * * * + +I need not describe the emotion with which Snap and I listened to +Venza and Anita pleading to be allowed to accompany us. They urged it +upon Grantline, and we took no part. It was too important a decision. +The treasure--the life or death of all these men--hung now upon the +fate of our venture. Snap and I could not intrude our personal +feelings. + +And the girls won. Both were undeniably more skilful at handling the +midget platforms than any of us men. Two of the six platforms could be +guided by them. That was a third of our little force! And of what use +to go out and be defeated, leaving the girls here to meet death almost +immediately afterward? + +We gathered at the porte. A last minute change made Grantline order +six of his men to remain guarding the buildings. The instruments--the +Erentz system--all the appliances had to be attended. + +It left four platforms, each with three men, with Grantline at the +controls of one of them. And upon the other two of the six Venza rode +with Snap, and I with Anita. + +We crouched in the shadows outside the porte. So small an army, +sallying out to bomb this enemy vessel or be killed in the attempt! +Only sixteen of us. And thirty or so brigands. + +I envisaged then this tiny Moon-crater, the scene of this battle we +were waging. Struggling humans, desperately trying to kill. Alone here +on this globe. Around us, the wide reaches of Lunar desolation. In all +this world, every human being was gathered here, struggling to kill! + +Anita drew me down to the platform. "Ready, Gregg." + +The others were rising. We lifted, moved slowly out and away from the +protective shadows of the building. + +In a tiny queue the six little platforms sailed out over the valley +toward the brigand ship. + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +_The Battle in the Crater_ + +Grantline led us. We held about level. Five hundred feet beneath us +the brigand ship lay, cradled on the rocks. When it was still a mile +away from us I could see all its outline fairly clearly in the +dimness. Its tiny hull-windows were now dark; but the blurred shape of +the hull was visible and above it the rounded cap of dome, with a dim +radiance beneath it. + +We followed Grantline's platform. It was rising, drawing the others +after it like a tail. I touched Anita where she lay beside me with her +head half in the small hooded control-bank. + +"Going too high." + +She nodded, but followed the line nevertheless. It was Grantline's +command. + +I lay crouched, holding the inner tips of the flexible side-shields. +The bottom of the platform was covered with the insulated fabric. +There were two side-shields. They extended upward some two feet, +flexible so that I could hold them out to see over them, or draw them +up and in to cover us. + +They afforded a measure of protection against the hostile rays, though +just how much we were not sure. With the platform level, a bolt from +beneath could not harm us unless it continued for a considerable time. +But the platform, except upon direct flight, was seldom level, for it +was a frail, unstable little vehicle! To handle it was more than a +question of the controls. We balanced, and helped to guide it, with +the movement of our bodies--shifting our weight sidewise, or back, or +forward to make it dip as the controls altered the gravity-pull in its +tiny plate-sections. + +Like a bird, wheeling, soaring, swooping. To me, it was a precarious +business. + + * * * * * + +But now we were in straight flight diagonally upward. The outline of +the brigand ship came under us. I crouched tense, breathless; every +moment it seemed that the brigands must discover us and loose their +bolts. + +They may have seen us for some moments before they fired. I peered +over the side-shield down at our mark, then up ahead to get +Grantline's firing signal. It seemed long delayed. We were almost over +the ship. An added glow down there must have warned Grantline that a +shot was coming. The tiny red light flared bright on his platform. + +I hissed on our Benson curve-light radiance. We had been dark, but a +soft glow now enveloped us. Its sheen went down to the ship to reveal +us. But its curving path showed us falsely placed. I saw the little +line of platforms ahead of us seem to move suddenly sidewise. + +It was everyone for himself now; none of us could tell where the other +platforms actually were placed or headed. Anita swooped us sharply +down to avoid a possible collision. + +"Gregg--?" + +"Yes. I'm aiming." + +I was making ready to drop the little explosive globe-bomb. Our +search-light ray at the camp, answering Grantline's signal, shot down +and bathed the ship in a white glare, revealing it for our aim. +Simultaneously the brigand bolts came up at us. + +I held my bomb out over the shield, calculating the angle to throw it +down. The brigand rays flashed around me. They were horribly close; +Miko had understood our sudden visible shift and aimed, not where we +appeared to be, but where we had been a moment before. + + * * * * * + +I dropped my bomb hastily at the glowing white ship. The touch of a +hostile ray would have exploded it in my hand. I could see its +blue-sizzling fuse as it fell. I saw the others also dropping from our +nearby platforms. The explosions from them merged in a confusion of +the white glare--and a cloud of black light-mist as the brigands out +on the rocks used their occulting darkness bombs. + +We swept past in a blur of leaping hostile beams. Silent battle of +lights! Darkness bombs down at the ship struggling to bar our camp +search-ray. The Benson radiance-rays from our passing platforms +curving down to mingle with the confusion. The electronic rays sending +up their bolts.... + +Our platforms dropped some ten dynamitrine bombs in that first +passage over the ship. As we sped by, I dimmed the Benson's radiance. +I peered. We had not hit the ship. Or if we had, the damage was +inconclusive. But on the rocks I could see a pile of ore-carts +scattered--broken wreckage, in which the litter of two or three +projectors seemed strewn. And the gruesome deflated forms of several +helmeted figures. Others seemed, to be running, scattering--hiding in +the rocks and pit-holes. Twenty brigands at least were outside the +ship. Some were running over toward the base of our camp-ledge. The +darkness bombs were spreading like a curtain over the valley floor; +but it seemed that some of the figures were dragging their projectors +away. + +We sailed off toward the opposite crater-rim. I remember passing over +the broken wreckage of Grantline's little space-ship, the _Comet_. +Miko's bolts momentarily had vanished. We had hit some of his outside +projectors; the others were abandoned, or being dragged to safer +positions. + + * * * * * + +After a mile we wheeled and went back. I suddenly realized that only +four platforms were in the re-formed line ahead of us. One was +missing! I saw it now, wavering down, close over the ship. A bolt +leaped up diagonally from a distant angle on the rocks and caught the +disabled platform. It fell, whirling, glowing red--disappeared into +the blur of darkness like a bit of heated metal plunged into water. + +One out of six of our platforms already lost! Three men of our little +force gone! + +But Grantline led us desperately back. Anita caught his signal to +break our line. The five platforms scattered, dipping and wheeling +like frightened birds--blurring shapes, shifting unnaturally in flight +as the Benson curve-angles were altered. + +Anita now took our platform in a long swoop downward. Her tense, +murmured voice sounded in my ears: + +"Hold off: I'll take us low." + +A melee. Passing platform shapes. The darting bolts, crossing like +ancient rapiers. Falling blue points of fuse-lights as we threw our +bombs. + +Down in a swoop. Then rising. Away, and then back. This silent warfare +of lights! It seemed that around me must be bursting a pandemonium of +sound. Yet I heard nothing. Silent, blurred melee, infinitely +frightening. A bolt struck us, clung for an instant; but we weathered +it. The light was blinding. Through my gloves I could feel the tingle +of the over-charged shield as it caught and absorbed the hostile +bombardment. Under me the platform seemed heated. My little Erentz +motors ran with ragged pulse. I got too much oxygen; my head roared +with it. Spots danced before my closed eyes. Then not enough oxygen. I +was dully smothering.... + +Then the bolt was gone. I found us soaring upward, horribly tilted. I +shifted over. + +"Anita! Anita, dear!" + +"Yes. Gregg. All right." + + * * * * * + +The melee went on. The brigand ship and all its vicinity was enveloped +in darkness-mist now--a turgid sable curtain, made more dense by the +dissipating heavy fumes of our exploding bombs which settled low over +the ship and the rocks nearby. The search-light from our camp strove +futilely to penetrate the cloud. + +Our platforms were separated. One went by high over us; I saw another +dart close beneath my shield. + +"God, Anita!" + +"Too close! I did not mean that--I didn't see it." + +Almost a collision. + +"Oh, Gregg, haven't we broken the ship's dome yet?" + +It seemed not. I had dropped nearly all my bombs. This could not go on +much longer. Had it been only five minutes? Only that? Reason told me +so, yet it seemed an eternity of horror. + +Another swoop. My last bomb. Anita had brought us into position to +fling it. But I could not. A bolt stabbed up from the gloom and +caught us. We huddled, pulling the shields up and over us. + +Blurred darkness again. Too much to the side now. I had to wait while +Anita swung us back. Then we seemed too high. + +We swooped. But not too low! Down in the darkness-mist we would +immediately have lost direction, and crashed. + +I waited with my last bomb. The other platforms were occasionally +dropping them: I had been too hasty, too prodigal. + +Had we broken the ship's dome with a direct hit? It seemed not. + + * * * * * + +The brigands were occasionally sending up catapulted light-flares. +They came from positions on the rocks outside the ship. They mounted +in lazy curves and burst over us. The concealing darkness, broken only +by the flares of our explosions, enveloped the enemy. Our camp +search-light was still struggling with it. But overhead, where the few +little platforms were circling and swooping, the flares gave an almost +continuous glare. It was dazzling, blinding. Even through the smoked +pane which I adjusted to my visor I could not stand it. + +But there were thoughts of comparative dimness. In a patch where the +Earthlight struck through the darkness of the rocks, I saw another of +our fallen platforms! Snap and Venza! Dear God.... + +It was not they, but three figures of our men. One was dead. Two had +survived the fall. They stood up, staggering. And in that instant, +before the turgid black curtain closed over them, I saw two brigands +come rushing. Their hand projectors stabbed at close range. Our men +crumpled and fell. + +And now I saw why probably we had never yet hit the ship. + +Its outline was revealed. "Now, Gregg--can you fling it from here?" + +We were in position again. I flung my last missile, watched its light +as it dropped. On the dome-roof two of Miko's men were crouching. My +bomb was truly aimed--perhaps one of the few in all our bombardment +which would have landed directly on the dome-roof. But the waiting +marksmen fired at it with short-range heat projectors and exploded it +harmlessly while it was still above them. + +We swung up and away. I saw, high above us, Grantline's platform, +recognizing its red signal light. There seemed a lull. The enemy fire +had died down to only a very occasional bolt. In the confusion of my +whirling impressions I wondered if Miko were in distress? Not that! We +had not hit his ship; perhaps we had done little damage indeed! It was +we who were in distress. Two of our platforms had fallen--two out of +six. Or more, of which I did not know. + + * * * * * + +I saw one rising off to the side of us. Grantline was over us. Well, +we were at least three. And then I saw the fourth. + +"Grantline is calling us up, Gregg." + +"Yes." + +Grantline's signal-light was summoning us from the attack. He was a +thousand or two thousand feet above. + +I was suddenly shocked with horror. The search-ray from our camp +abruptly vanished! Anita wheeled us to face the distant ledge. The +camp-lights showed, and over one of the buildings was a distress +light! + +Had the crack in our front wall broken, threatening explosion of all +the buildings? The wild thoughts swept me. But it was not that. I +could see light-stabs from the cliff outside the main building. Miko +had dared to send some of his men to attack our almost abandoned camp! + +Grantline realized it. His red helmet-light semaphored the command to +follow him. His platform soared away, heading for the camp, with the +other two behind him. + +Anita lifted us to follow. But I checked her. + +"No! Off to the right, across the valley." + +"But Gregg!" + +"Do as I say, Anita." + +She swung us diagonally away from both the camp and the brigand ship. +I prayed that we might not be noticed by the brigands. + +"Anita, listen: I've an idea!" + +The attack on the brigand ship was over. It lay enveloped in the +darkness of the powder-gas cloud and its own darkness bombs. But it +was uninjured. + +Miko had answered us with our own tactics. He had practically unmanned +the ship, no doubt, and had sent his men to our buildings. The fight +had shifted. But I was now without ammunition, save for two or three +small bullet projectors. + +Of what use for our platform to rush back? Miko expected that. His +attack on the camp was undoubtedly made just for that purpose. + +"Anita, if we can get down on the rocks somewhere near the ship, and +creep up on it unobserved in that blackness...." + + * * * * * + +I might be able to open its manual hull-lock, rip it open and let the +air out. If I could get into its pressure chamber and unseal the inner +slide.... + +"It would wreck the ship, Anita, exhaust all its air. Shall we try +it?" + +"Whatever you say, Gregg." + +We seemed to be unobserved. We skimmed close to the valley floor, a +mile from the ship. We headed slowly toward it, sailing low over the +rocks. + +Then we landed, left the platform. + +"Let me go first, Anita." + +I held a bullet projector. With slow, cautious leaps, we advanced. +Anita was behind me. I had wanted to leave her with the platform, but +she would not stay. And to be with me seemed at least equally safe. + +The rocks were deserted. I thought there was very little chance that +any of the enemy would lurk here. We clambered over the pitted, +scarred surface. The higher crags, etched with Earthlight, stood like +sentinels in the gloom. + +The brigand ship with its surrounding darkness was not far from us. +Then we entered the cloud. + +No one was out here. We passed the wreckage of broken projectors, and +gruesome, shattered human forms. + +We prowled closer. The hull of the ship loomed ahead of us. All dark. + +We came at last close against the sleek metal hull-side, slid along it +toward where I was sure the manual-porte was located. + +Abruptly I realized that Anita was not behind me! Then I saw her at a +little distance, struggling in the grip of a giant helmeted figure! +The brigand lifted her--turned, and, carrying her, ran the other way! + +I did not dare fire. I bounded after them along the hull-side, around +under the curve of the pointed bow, down along the other side. + +I had mistaken the hull-porte location. It was here. The running, +bounding figure reached it, slid the panel. I was only fifty feet +away--not much more than a single leap. I saw Anita being shoved into +the pressure lock. The Martian flung himself after her. + +I fired at him, but missed. I came with a rush. And as I reached the +porte it slid closed in my face, barring me! + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +_In the Pressure Lock._ + +With puny fists I pounded the panel. A small pane in it was +transparent. Within the lock I could see the blurred figures of Anita +and her captor--and, it seemed, another figure. The lock was some ten +feet square, with a low ceiling. It glowed with a dim tube-light. + +I pounded, thumped with futile, silent blows. The mechanism was here +to open this manual; but it was now clasped from within and would not +operate. + +A few seconds only, while I stood there in a panic of confusion, +raging to get in. This disaster had come so suddenly! I did not plan; +I had no thought save to batter my way in and rescue Anita. I recall +that I beat on the glassite pane with my bullet projector until the +weapon was bent and useless; and I flung it with a wild, despairing +rage at my feet. + +They were letting the ship's air-pressure into this lock. Soon they +would open the inner panel, step into the secondary chamber--and in a +moment more would be within the ship's hull corridor. Anita, lost to +me! + +The outer panel suddenly opened! I had lunged against it with my +shoulder; the giant figure inside slid it. I was taken by surprise! I +half-fell inward. + +Huge arms went around me. The goggled face of the helmet peered into +mine. + +"So it is you, Haljan! I thought I recognized that little device over +your helmet-bracket. And there is my little Anita, come back to me +again!" + +Miko! + + * * * * * + +This was he. His great bloated arms encircling me, bending me +backward, holding me almost helpless. I saw over his shoulder that +Anita was clutched in the grip of another helmeted figure. No giant, +but tall for an Earthman--almost as tall as myself. Then the +tube-light in the room illumined the visor. I saw the face, recognized +it. Moa! + +I gasped, "So--I've--got you, Miko--" + +"Got me! You're a fool to the last, Gregg Haljan! A fool to the last! +But you were always a fool." + +I could scarcely move in his grip. My arms were pinned. As he slowly +bent me backward, I wound my legs around one of his; it was as +unyielding as a steel pillar. He had closed the outer panel; the +air-pressure in the lock was rising. I could feel it against my suit. + +My helmeted head was being forced backward; Miko's left arm held me. +In his gloved right hand as it came slowly up over my throat I saw a +knife-blade, its naked, sharpened metal glistening blue-white in the +light from overhead. + +I seized his wrist. But my puny strength could not hold him. The +knife, against all my efforts, came slowly down. + +A moment of this slow deadly combat--the end of everything for me. + +I was aware of the helmeted figure of Moa casting off Anita--and then +the two girls leaping together upon Miko. It threw him off his +balance, and my hanging weight made him topple forward. He took a step +to recover himself; his hand with the knife was flung up with an +instinctive, involuntary balancing gesture. And as it came swiftly +down again, I forced the knife-blade to graze his throat. Its point +caught in the fabric of his suit. + +His startled oath jangled in my ears. The girls were clawing at him; +we were all four scrambling, swaying. With despairing strength I +twisted at his waist. The knife went into his throat. I plunged it +deeper. + + * * * * * + +His suit went flabby. He crumpled over me and fell, knocking me to the +floor. His voice, with the horrible gurgling rasp of death in it, +rattled my ear-grids. + +"Not such a fool--are you, Haljan--" + +Moa's helmeted head was close over us. I saw that she had seized the +knife, jerked it from her brother's throat. She leaped backward, +waving it. + +I twisted from under Miko's inert, lifeless body. As I got to my feet, +Anita flung herself to shield me. Moa was across the lock, backed up +against its wall. The knife in her hand went up. She stood for the +briefest instant regarding Anita and me holding each other. I thought +that she was about to leap upon us; but before I could move, the knife +came down and plunged into her breast. She fell forward, her +grotesque helmet striking the floor-grid almost at my feet. + +"Gregg!" + +"She's dead." + +"No! She moved! Get her helmet off! There's enough air here." + +My helmet pressure-indicator was faintly buzzing to show that a safe +pressure was in the room. I shut off Moa's Erentz motors, unfastened +her helmet, raised it off. We gently turned her body. She lay with +closed eyes, her pallid face blue-cast from the light in the lock. + +With our own helmets off, we knelt over her. + +"Oh. Gregg, is she dead?" + +"No. Not quite--but dying." + +"Oh Gregg, I don't want her to die! She was trying to help you there +at the last." + +She opened her eyes; the film of death was glazing them. But she saw +me, recognized me. + +"Gregg--" + +"Yes, Moa, I'm here." + + * * * * * + +Her livid lips were faintly drawn in a smile. "I'm--so glad--you took +the helmets off, Gregg. I'm--going--you know." + +"No!" + +"Going--back to Mars--to rest with the fire-makers--where I came from. +I was thinking--maybe you would kiss me, Gregg--?" + +Anita gently pushed me down. I pressed the white, faintly smiling lips +with mine. She sighed, and it ended with a rattle in her throat. + +"Thank you--Gregg--closer--I can't talk so loudly--" + +One of her gloved hands struggled to touch me, but she had no strength +and it fell back. Her words were the faintest of whispers: + +"There was no use living--without your love. But I want you to +see--now--that a Martian girl can--die with a smile--" + +Her eyelids fluttered down: it seemed that she sighed and then was not +breathing. But on her livid face the faint smile still lingered to +show me how a Martian girl could die. + +We had forgotten for the moment where we were. As I glanced up I saw +that through the inner panel, past the secondary lock, the ship's +hull-corridor was visible, and along its length a group of Martians +were advancing! They saw us, and came running. + +"Anita! Look! We've got to get out of here!" + +The secondary lock was open to the corridor. We jammed on our helmets. +The unhelmeted brigands by then were fumbling at the inner panel. I +pulled at the lever of the outer panel. The brigands were hurrying, +thinking they could be in time to stop me. One of the more cautious +fumbled with a helmet. + +"Anita, run! Try and keep your feet." + +I slid the outer panel and pushed at Anita. Simultaneously the +brigands opened the inner porte. + +The air came with a tempestuous rush. A blast through the inner +porte--through the little pressure-lock--a wild rush out to the +airless Moon. All the air in the ship madly rushing to escape.... + +Like feathers we were blown with it. I recall an impression of the +hurtling brigand figures and swift-flying rocks under me. A silent +crash as I struck. + +Then soundless, empty blackness. + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +_Triumph!_ + +"Is he conscious? We'd better take him back, get his helmet off." + +"It's over. We can get back now. Venza, dear, we've won--it's over." + +"He hears us!" + +"Gregg!" + +"He hears us--he's all right!" + +I opened my eyes. I lay on the rocks. Over my helmet other helmets +were peering, and faint, familiar voices mingled with the roaring in +my ears. + +"--back to the camp and get his helmet off." + +"Are his motors smooth? Keep them right, Snap--he must have good air." + +I seemed unhurt. But Anita.... + +She was here. "Gregg, dear one!" + +Anita safe! All four of us here on the Earthlit rocks, close outside +the brigand ship. + +"Anita!" + +She held me, lifted me. I was uninjured. I could stand; I staggered up +and stood swaying. The brigand ship, a hundred feet away, loomed dark +and silent, a lifeless bulk, already empty of air, drained in that mad +blast outward. Like the wreck of the _Planetara_--a dead, pulseless +hulk already. + +We four stood together, triumphant. The battle was over. The brigands +were worsted, almost the last man of them dead or dying. No more than +ten or fifteen had been available for that final assault upon the camp +buildings. Miko's last strategy. I think perhaps he had intended, with +his few remaining men, to take the ship and make away, deserting his +fellows. + +All on the ship, caught unhelmeted by the explosion, were dead long +since. + +I stood listening to Snap's triumphant account. It had not been +difficult for the flying platforms to hunt down the attacking brigands +on the open rocks. We had only lost one more platform. + +Human hearts beat sometimes with very selfish emotions. It was a +triumphant ending for us, and we hardly gave a thought that half of +Grantline's little group had perished. + +We huddled on Snap's platform. It rose, lurching drunkenly, barely +carrying us. + +And as we headed for the Grantline buildings, where still the rift in +the wall had not quite broken, there came the final triumph. Miko had +been aware of it, and knew he had lost. Grantline's search-light +leaped upward, swept the sky, caught its sought-for object--a huge +silver cylinder, bathed brightly in the white search-beam glare. + +The police-ship from Earth! + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +_My Exit_ + +My narrative lies now in this permanently recorded form before you, +and I prepare my exit bow with the humble hope that I may have given +you pleasure. If so, I do beg you to tell me of it. There are some who +already have flashed their approval of my discs; I thank them most +earnestly and gratefully. + +My errors of recording unquestionably are many; and for them I ask +your indulgence. There have been, I can readily see, errors of +omission. I have not mentioned, for instance, the final rescue of the +_Planetara's_ marooned passengers on the asteroid. You will bear with +me, since the disc-space has its technical limitations, that such +omissions have been unavoidable. + +Since the passage of the Earth-law by the Federated Board of +Education, forcing narrative fiction to cling so closely to sworn +facts of actual happening, I need offer no assurance of the truth of +my narrative. My witnesses have filed their corroborating +declarations. Indeed, the _Planetara's_ wreck and the brigands' attack +upon the Moon-treasure were given the widest news-casters' publicity, +as you all know. Yet I, who was unwittingly involved in those stirring +events, may have added a more personal note, making the scenes more +vivid to your imagination. I have tried to do that. I do hope that in +some measure you will think I have succeeded. + +There are many foolish girls now who say that they would like to know +Gregg Haljan. They doubtless would be very disappointed. I really +crave no more publicity. And the girls of all the Universe have no +charm for me. There is only one, for me--an Earth-girl. + +I think that life has very beautifully endowed me with its blessings. + + + + +Giants of the Ray + +_By Tom Curry_ + +[Illustration:] + +[Sidenote: Madly the three raced for their lives up the shaft of the +radium mine, for behind them poured a stream of hideous +monsters--giants of the ray!] + + +"I tell you I'm not crazy," insisted the tall man. "Durkin, they got a +big mine." + +Bill Durkin laughed roughly, and sneered openly at his partner, Frank +Maget. "G'wan, you're drunk." + +"Well, I was last night," admitted Maget. "But I'd slept it off this +morning. I was lying under that table in the Portuguee's, and when I +opened my eyes, there were these three birds sitting near me. They +hadn't spotted me. I heard 'em talking of wealth, how their mine was +of unbelievable richness and greater than any other deposit in the +world. Well, that means something, don't it?" + +"That's all right," said Durkin. "But whoever saw a cricket fifteen +inches long?" + +[Illustration: Its form was that of a gigantic frog, and from its +throat sounded the terrific bellowing which rivaled thunder.] + +"Listen. There were three of these guys. One was a hell of a looking +fellow: his face was piebald, with purple spots. His skin was bleached +and withered, and one eye looked like a pearl collar button! They +called him Professor, too, Professor Gurlone. Well, he takes out this +damn cricket thing and it was sort of reddish purple but alive, and as +long as your forearm. This professor guy says his son had taken an +ordinary cricket and made it grow into the one he had. But the mine +was what interested me. I kept my mouth shut and my ears open, and +it's in the Matto Grosso. May be emeralds, diamonds, or gold. Boy, I'm +heading for it, right now. The old guy's going back to-morrow, get +me?" + +"It's a lot of bunk," growled Durkin, who was stout and red of +countenance. + +"Yeh? Well, Otto Ulrich don't put fifty thousand into bunk." + +Durkin whistled. "You mean the German loosened up that much?" he +asked, and his eyes showed interest. + +"Sure. He paid this Gurlone fifty thousand dollars--credit, of +course." + +"Well--maybe there's something in the mine story. But boy, you were +drunk when you saw that cricket. No cricket ever grew that big. You +always see things when you get too much rum in you." + +"The hell you say," cried Maget. "I saw it, I tell you!" + + * * * * * + +Durkin feigned elaborate politeness. "Oh, all right, Frank. Have it +your own way. You saw a cricket that big and this Gurlone feller took +a couple of pink elephants out of his pocket to pay the check. Sure, I +believe you." + +But money never failed to attract the two tropical tramps. They were +looking for trouble, not work, and the idea of a raid on a rich mine +in the Matto Grosso was just what they would enjoy. + +An hour later, they had cornered a small, inoffensive peon named Juan. +Juan, Maget and Durkin had discovered, had come out of the wilderness +with Professor Gurlone, the strange looking gentleman who spoke of a +fabulously wealthy mine and commanded checks for fifty thousand +dollars from a reputable banking firm. Such a man was worth watching. + +The two rascals were expert at pumping the little half-breed. They +knew peons, and the first thing that happened was that Durkin had +slipped Juan several dollars and had pressed a large glass of whiskey +on the little man. + +The conversation was in broken English and Spanish. + +"Quien sabe?" + +Durkin and Maget had this phrase flung at them often during the course +of the talk with Juan, and there were many elaborate shrugs. + +There was a mine, way back in the Matto Grosso, said Juan. He thought +it might contain silver: there had been the shaft of an old mine +there. But now they were deep down in the ground, digging out reddish +brown ore, and the cavern smoked and smelled so badly a man could work +but an hour or two before being relieved. But the pay was very high. +Also, Juan, in his rambling way, spoke of grotesque animals. What were +these creatures like? asked Durkin. Then came a shrug, and Juan said +they were like nothing else on earth. + + * * * * * + +Durkin discounted the part of the story having to do with the strange +animals. He thought it was peon superstition. But now he was sure +there was a rich mine to be raided. + +"It's a tough part of the Grosso," he said, turning to Maget. + +"Sure. Hard to carry enough water and supplies to make it. Say, Juan, +who was that big Portuguee with Professor Gurlone? He's blind, ain't +he? His eyes were white as milk, and his face tanned black as river +mud. Surely is a great big guy, and tough looking, too." + +Durkin drummed on the table, considering the matter, while Juan spoke +of the big Portuguese. The swarthy man with the colorless blind eyes +was Espinosa, former owner of the mine. He had sold part of his claim +to the Gurlones, but had remained with them as an assistant. Though +blind, he knew the depths of the mine and could feel his way about, +and direct the peons in their labors. + +"I've got it," said Durkin, turning back to Juan and Maget. "Juan, +it's up to you. You've got to blaze the trail so we can follow you in. +And you can steal food and cache it for use on the way, see? We'll +come along a day or so after the Gurlones." + +It took some persuading to make Juan consent to their plot, but the +peon yielded at last to money and the promise of part of the spoils. +"Maybe you can steal Gurlone's samples and they'll give us a line on +what he's up to out there. Whether it's emeralds or diamonds or gold +that they're taking out of the mine." + +Juan was stupid and superstitious, like most of his fellows. He had +obeyed orders, digging out the red ore, and that was all he knew. But +prompted by the two tramps, he was ready for trouble, too. + +Juan told them that Professor Gurlone carried a small lead case which +he seemed to prize greatly. + +"Get it, then," ordered Durkin. + +The two tramps saw Gurlone's party start on the morrow. There were +many cases of supplies loaded into launches, some marked Glass, Acids, +and so on. Then there were boxes of food and various things needed in +a jungle camp. + + * * * * * + +Juan, their tool, was working with the other peons, and at ten o'clock +in the morning the launches set out, pushing into the current of the +Madeira. + +Old Gurlone, of the livid face, was in charge of one boat, and the +gigantic Portuguese, with his colorless eyes and burned complexion, +sat beside him. + +That night, the two tropical tramps stole a small boat with a +one-cylinder motor, and started up the river. + +It was a hard journey, but they were used to river and jungle work, +and the object they had in view was enough to make them discount +trouble. They speculated upon what manner of treasure it was they +would find in the cavern of the Matto Grosso mine. It might be +precious stones, it might be gold. Certainly it was something very +valuable. + +They carried little supplies, but they were heavily armed. For food, +they might hunt and also depend on the caches left by their friend, +Juan the peon. + +Three hundred miles from Manaos, they came to the landing where old +Gurlone had unloaded his boats. The two tramps drew their own craft up +on shore a quarter of a mile away, keeping out of sight, and hid the +boat in dense brush. Then they crept up the river bank, keeping out of +sight of the boatmen, who were preparing for the return voyage, and +cut into the jungle so as to strike the trail of the caravan ahead. + +For several hours they followed the path easily. They found palm trees +blazed with new marks, and these they were sure their friend Juan had +left for them. But the trail was easy to keep without these. The +supplies had been loaded on burros, which had been awaiting the +boats. + +That night, they camped beside a small stream. They were but +twenty-four hours behind Professor Gurlone and his party, and the food +Juan had cached for them was in good condition. + + * * * * * + +They were up at daybreak, and pressed on, armed to the teeth and ready +for a fight. + +"What's that?" said Durkin, stopping so suddenly that Maget ran into +him. + +They had been walking at a swift pace along the jungle path, the giant +trees forming a canopy overhead. Monkeys screamed at them, birds +flitted a hundred feet above them in the roof of the forest. + +The sun beat on the jungle top, but few rays lightened the gloom +beneath. + +From up ahead sounded a frightful scream, followed by a long drawn out +wailing. Maget glanced at Durkin, and the latter shrugged, and pressed +on. But he gripped his rifle tightly, for the cries were eery. + +From time to time the two stopped to catch better the direction of the +wails. At last, they located the spot where the injured person lay. + +It was under a great bombax tree, and on the shaded ground writhed a +man. The two stopped, horrified at the squirming figure. The man was +tearing at his face with his nails, and his countenance was bloody +with long scratches. + +He cursed and moaned in Spanish, and Durkin, approaching closer, +recognized Juan the peon. + +"Hey, Juan, what the hell's the matter? A snake bite you?" + +The bronzed face of the sturdy little peon writhed in agony. He +screamed in answer, he could not talk coherently. He mumbled, he +groaned, but they could not catch his words. + +At his side lay a small lead container, and closer, as though he had +dropped it after extracting it from its case, lay a tube some six +inches in length. It was a queer tube, for it seemed to be filled +with smoky, pallid worms of light that writhed even as Juan writhed. + +"What's the trouble?" asked Durkin gruffly, for he was alarmed at the +behavior of the peon. It seemed to both tramps that the man must have +gone mad. + + * * * * * + +They kept back from him, with ready guns. Juan shrieked, and it +sounded as though he said he was burning up, in a great fire. + +Suddenly the peon staggered to his feet; as he pushed himself up, his +hands gripped the tube, and he clawed at his face. + +Perplexity and horror were writ on the faces of the two tramps. Maget +was struck with pity for the unfortunate peon, who seemed to be +suffering the tortures of the damned. He was not a bad man, was Maget, +but rather a weakling who had a run of bad luck and was under the +thumb of Durkin, a really hard character. Durkin, while astounded at +the actions of Juan, showed no pity. + +Maget stepped forward, to try and comfort Juan; the peon struck out at +him, and whirled around. But a few yards away was the bank of the +stream, and Juan crashed into a black palm set with spines, caromed +off it, and fell face downward into the water. The glass tube was +smashed and the pieces fell into the stream. + +"God, he must be blind," groaned Maget. "Poor guy, I've got to save +him." + +"The hell with him," growled Durkin. He grasped his partner's arm and +stared curiously down at the dying peon. + +"Let go, I'll pull him out," said Maget, trying to wrench away from +Durkin. + +"He's done for. Why worry about a peon?" said Durkin. "Look at those +fish!" + +The muddy waters of the stream had parted, and dead fish were rising +about the body of Juan. But not about the dying man so much as close +to the spot where the broken tube had fallen. White bellies up, the +fish died as though by magic. + +"Let's--let's get the hell back to Manoas, Bill," said Maget in a +sickly voice. "This--this is too much for me." + + * * * * * + +A nameless fear, which had been with Maget ever since the beginning of +the venture, was growing more insistent. + +"What?" cried Durkin. "Turn back now? The hell you say! That damn peon +got into a fight with somebody and maybe got bit by a snake later. +We'll go on and get that treasure." + +"But--but what made those fish come up that way?" said Maget, his +brows creased in perplexity. + +Durkin shrugged. "What's the difference? We're O. K., ain't we?" + +In spite of the stout man's bravado, it was evident that he, too, was +disturbed at the strange happenings. He kept voicing aloud the +question in his mind; what was in the queer tube? + +But he forced Maget to go on. Without Juan, the peon, to leave them +caches of food on the trail, they would have a difficult time getting +provender, but both were trained jungle travelers and could find fruit +and shoot enough game to keep them going. + +Day after day they marched on, not far from the rear of the party +before them. They took care to keep off Gurlone's heels, for they did +not wish their presence to be discovered. + +When they had been on the journey, which led them east, for four days, +the two rascals came to a waterless plateau, which stretched before +them in dry perspective. Before they came to the end of this, they +knew what real thirst was, and their tongues were black in their +mouths before they caught the curling smoke of fires in the valley +where they knew the mine must be. + +"That's the mine," gasped Durkin, pointing to the smoke. + + * * * * * + +The sun was setting in golden splendor at their backs; they crept +forward, using great boulders and piles of reddish earth, strange to +them, for cover. Finally they reached the trail which led to the hills +overlooking the valley, and a panorama spread before them which amazed +them because of its elaborateness. + +It seemed more like a stage scene than a wilderness picture. Straight +ahead of them, as they lay flat on their stomachs and peered at the +big camp, yawned the black mouth of a large cavern. This, they were +sure, was the mine itself. Close by this mouth stood a stone hut. It +was clear that this building had something to do with the ore, perhaps +a refining plant, Durkin suggested. + +There were long barracks for the peons, inside a barbed wire +enclosure, and they could see the little men lounging now about +campfires, where frying food was being prepared. Also, there was a +long, low building with many windows in it, and houses for supplies +and for the use of the owners of the camp. + +"Looks like they were ready in case of a fight," said Durkin at last. +"That fence around the peons looks like they might be havin' trouble." + +"Some camp," breathed Maget. + +"We got to find somethin' to drink," said Durkin. "Come on." + +They worked their way about the rim of the valley, and in doing so +caught glimpses of Professor Gurlone, the elderly man they had spotted +in Manaos, and also saw the big Portuguese with his sightless eyes. + +At the other side of the valley, they came on a spring which flowed to +the east and disappeared under ground farther down. + +"Funny water, ain't it?" said Durkin, lying down on his stomach to +suck up the milky water. + +But they were not in any mood to be particular about the fluids they +drank. The long dry march across the arid lands separating the camp +from the rest of the world had taken all moisture from their throats. + + * * * * * + +Maget, drinking beside his partner, saw that the water glinted and +sparkled, though the sun was below the opposite rim of the valley. It +seemed that greenish, silvery specks danced in the milky fluid. + +"Boy, that's good," Durkin finally found time to say, "I feel like I +could fight a wildcat." + +The water did, indeed, impart a feeling of exhilaration to the two +tramps. They crept up close to the roof of the parallel shaft which +they had seen from the other side of the valley, and looked down into +the camp again. + +Professor Gurlone of the livid face and Espinosa the blind Portuguese, +were talking to a big man whose golden beard shone in the last rays of +the sun. + +"That's the old bird's son," said Durkin, "that Juan told us about. +Young Gurlone." + +A rumbling, pleasant laugh floated on the breeze, issuing from the big +youth's throat. The wind was their way, now, and the valley breathed +forth an unpleasant odor of chemicals and tainted meat. + +"Funny place," said Maget. "Say, I got a hell of a headache, Bill." + +"So've I," grunted Durkin. "Maybe that water ain't as good as it +seemed at first." + + * * * * * + +They lay in a small hollow, watching the activity of the camp. The +peons were in their pen, and it was evident that they were being +watched by the owners of the camp. + +As purple twilight fell across the strange land, the two tramps began +to notice the dull sounds which came to their ears from time to time. + +"That's funny thunder," said Maget nervously. "If I didn't know it was +thunder, I'd swear some big frogs were around here." + +"Oh, hell. Maybe it's an earthquake," said Durkin irritatedly. "For +God's sake, quit your bellyachin'. You've done nothin' but whine ever +since we left Juan." + +"Well, who could blame me--" began Maget. He broke off suddenly, the +pique in his voice turned to a quiver of fear, as he grasped Durkin's +arm. "Oh, look," he gasped. + +Durkin, seeing his partner's eyes staring at a point directly behind +him, leaped up and scrambled away, thinking that a snake must be about +to strike him. + +He turned round when he felt he was far enough away, and saw that the +ground was moving near the spot where he had been lying. + +The earth was heaving, as though ploughed by a giant share; a blunt, +purplish head, which seemed too fearful to be really alive, showed +through the broken ground, and a worm began to draw its purple length +from the depths. It was no snake, but a gigantic angleworm, and as it +came forth, foot after foot, the two watched with glazed eyes. + +Maget swallowed. "I've seen 'em two feet long," he said. "But never +like that." + +Durkin, however, when he realized that the loathsome creature could +not see them and was creeping blindly towards them with its ugly, fat +body creasing and elongating, picked up rocks and began to destroy the +monstrous worm. He cursed as he worked. + +Dull red blood spattered them, and a fetid odor from the gashes caused +them to retch, but they finally cut the thing in two, and then they +moved away from there. + + * * * * * + +The dull rumblings beneath them frightened Maget, and Durkin too, +though the latter tried to brazen it out. + +"Come on, it's gettin' dark. We can take a look in their mine now." + +Maget, whimpering, followed. The booming sounds were increasing. + +But Durkin slipped down the hillside, and Maget followed into the +valley. They crept past the stone shack, which they noticed was +padlocked heavily. + +Durkin stopped suddenly, and cursed. "I've cut my foot," he said. +"These damn shoes are gone, all right, from that march. But come on, +never mind." + +They crept to the mouth of the cavern and peered in. "Ugh," said +Maget. + +He drew back with a shudder. The floor of the mine was covered with a +grey slush, in which were seething white masses of slugs weaving in +the slime. A powerful, rotten odor breathed in their faces, as though +they stood in the mouth of a great giant. + +"Ah!" yelled Durkin, throwing his arms across his face. + +The greenish, ghostly light which emanated from the slime was weaker +than moonlight, just enough to see by; a vast shadow hovered above +their heads, as though a gigantic bat flew there. The sweep and beat +of great wings drove them back, and they fled in terror from such +awful corruption. + +But the flying monster, with a wing spread of eight feet, dashed past +them, and silhouetted against the rising moon like a goblin. Then came +another, and finally a flock of the big birds. + +Durkin and Maget ran away, passing the stone house which stood near +the cavern's mouth. The booming sounds from the bowels of the earth +filled their ears now, and it was not thunder; no, it issued from the +depths of the mine. + +"We--we got to get somethin' to eat," said Durkin, as they paused near +one of the shacks, in which shone a light. + + * * * * * + +Sounds of voices came from the interior. They crept closer, and +listened outside the window. Inside, they could see Espinosa, Gurlone +senior, and the big youth with the golden beard, Gurlone junior. + +"Yes, father," the young man was saying. "I believe we had better +leave, at once. It's getting dangerous. I've reached the five million +mark now, with the new process, and it is ready to work with or sell, +just as we wish." + +"Hear that?" whispered Durkin triumphantly. "Five million!" + +"It's all ready, in the stone house," said young Gurlone. + +"Why should we leave now?" said old Gurlone, his livid face working. +"Now, when we are just at the point of success in our great +experiments? So far, while we have struck many creatures of abnormal +growth, still, we have overcome them." + +"Well, father, there is something in the mine now which makes it too +dangerous to work. That is, until they are put out of the way. You can +hear them now." + +The three inside the shack listened, and so did Durkin and Maget. The +booming sounds swelled louder and the earth of the valley shook. + +"I t'ink we better go," said Espinosa gruffly. "I agree with your son, +Professor." + +"No, no. We can conquer this, what ever it is." + +"You see, father, while you were away, we broke through into a natural +cavern, an underground river. It was then that the trouble started. +You know the effect of the stuff on the insects and birds. It enlarged +a cricket one hundred times. You saw that yourself. Six of the peons +have disappeared--they didn't run away, either. They went down the +shaft and never came back." + +"Oh, they probably fell into the water and drowned," said old Gurlone +impatiently. "Even if they did not, we can kill anything with these +large bore rifles." + +"We'd better pull out and let it alone for a while," said young +Gurlone gravely. "The peons have been trying to bolt for several days. +They'd be gone now if I hadn't penned them in and electrified the +fence." + + * * * * * + +Maget put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm starving," he +whispered. + +Durkin nodded, and they turned away, toward what they had marked as a +supply shack. They heard a low murmur from the peons' pen, as they +began to break off the hasps of the lock which held the door of the +storehouse. + +They got inside with little trouble, and began to feel about in the +dark for food. They located biscuits and canned goods which they split +open, and these they wolfed hungrily, listening carefully for sounds +from outside. + +"Here they come," said Maget, gripping Durkin's arm. + +They looked out the window of the supply shack, and saw old Gurlone +issue from the building outside which the two tramps had been +listening. In one hand, the old Professor, brave as a lion, carried an +old fashioned double-barreled elephant gun, and the rays from a +powerful electric torch shone across the barrel. + +At least, they thought the bizarre figure was old Gurlone, from the +size. For the man was clad in a black, shiny suit, and over his head +was a flapping hood of the same material in which were large eyeholes +of green glass. Behind this strange form came a larger one, armed also +with a big bore rifle and with another powerful flashlight. + +The blind Portuguese was armed, too, but he was not clad in the black +suit. He took his stand beside the mouth of the cavern, and waited +while the two Gurlones entered the mine. + +"My foot hurts," said Durkin suddenly, breaking the silence. + +"I'm going out and see what happens," said Maget. + + * * * * * + +Durkin limped after Maget, who now took the lead. They crept close as +possible to the mine opening, and saw the big Portuguese standing +there in silence, listening carefully. Any sounds the two might have +made were drowned in the great bellowing from within the cavern. + +These noises, so like the croak of bullfrogs but magnified a thousand +times, were terrifying to the heart. + +The sweep of wings sounded on the night air, and Espinosa drew back +and squatted close to the ground, as immense green creatures, flying +on dusty wings, issued from the mine. + +"God, those are moths," breathed Maget. + +Yes, unmistakably, they were moths, as large as condors. The green +ones, but for their size, were lunar moths, familiar enough to the two +tramps. More bats came, disturbed by the entrance of the two Gurlones. + +Durkin broke, then. "I'm--I'm--I guess you're right, Maget," he +whispered, in a terrified voice. "We should have never come. If my +foot wasn't hurt, I'd start for the river now. Curse it, what a +place!" + +The booming, vast croaks filled the whole valley, reverberating +through the hills. Wails sounded from the peon camp. + +The big Portuguese was shouting to the Gurlones. "Come out, come out!" + +Maget gripped his own rifle, and stood up, bravely. His fear, though +it was great, seemed to have brought out the better side of the man, +while Durkin, so brave at first, had cracked under the strain. + +"Look out, they'll see you," whimpered Durkin. + +Maget strode forward. A blast of fetid, stinking air struck his face, +and he choked. The noises were now ear-splitting, but above the +bellows came the sounds of the big rifles, the echoes booming through +the recesses of the cavern. + +Then the two Gurlones, running madly, burst from the mine entrance. + +"Run," they screamed. "Run for your life, Espinosa!" + +"I'll help you," cried Maget, and Durkin could detain him no longer. + + * * * * * + +The Gurlones hardly noticed the newcomer, as they ran madly towards +the shelter of their houses. Espinosa joined them, going swiftly in +spite of his blind eyes. + +The croaking made Maget's brain scream with the immensity of the +sound. Luminous, white disks, three feet in diameter, glared at him, +and the creature, which progressed with jerky leaps toward him, almost +filled the mouth of the mine. + +It was hot in pursuit of the fleeing Gurlones. It squatted and then +jumped, and presently it was out in the night air. + +Its form was that of a gigantic frog, but it stood some twenty feet in +height, and from its throat sounded the terrific bellowing which +rivalled the thunder. + +Maget bravely stepped forward, and began to fire into the huge, soft +body. The great mouth opened, and as the dum-dum bullets tore gashes +in the blackish green batrachian, the thunderous croaks took on a note +of pain. + +The odor of the creature was horrible. Maget could scarcely draw his +breath as he fired the contents of the magazine into the big animal. +Two more jumps brought the frog almost to Maget's feet, and the +tropical tramp felt a whiskerlike tentacle touch his face, and bad +smelling slime covered him. + +The frog was blind, without doubt, from its underground life, but the +tentacles seemed to be the way it finally located its prey, for it +turned on Maget and made a final snap at him. The great jaws closed +like the flap of hell, and Maget leaped back with a cry of triumphant +terror. + + * * * * * + +The bullets had finally stopped the big frog, but at its heels came a +strange, jellylike creature, not quite as bulky as the frog, but +pushing along on its legs and with a tail some eight feet thick and +fifteen feet in length. This, too, evidently a polywog, was blind, +with whitened discs for eyes, but it slid along at a rapid rate +because of its size. Maget's gun was empty; he turned so flee, but the +polywog stopped and sniffed at the thick blood of its fellow. Then, to +Maget's relief, it began to hungrily devour its companion. + +Utterly filthy, and ferocious, the polywog in silence snapped great +chunks from the dead giant frog. + +"Hello. Who are you?" + +Maget turned, having forgotten the amenities of life in the +excitement. Professor Gurlone and his son, still clad in their black +suits, but with their helmets off, were standing beside him, clutching +their guns and lights. + +The big Portuguese, Espinosa, appeared, and Durkin was beside him. + +"Why," said Maget, between gasps, "we just happened to be out +exploring, and we saw your camp. We were on our way in when we heard +the noises and came to investigate." + +"I see," said old Gurlone. "What made you head in this direction, and +where's your outfit?" + +"Oh, we cached most of it back there," said Maget. "My partner's hurt +his foot, so he can't walk well. Isn't that so, Durkin?" + +"Yeh," growled Durkin. "I got a sore foot, all right." + + * * * * * + +Old Gurlone was suspicious of the vague story which Maget and Durkin +concocted as the explanation of their presence in the valley. But +evidently the Professor was too worried about the situation in which +he and his friends were, to question the two tramps very closely. In +fact, he seemed rather glad that he had two more pairs of hands to aid +him and he thanked Maget for his bravery. + +They dispatched the great polywog as it tore its parent to bits, and +then the five men, the two Gurlones, Espinoza, Maget, and the limping, +cursing Durkin, retired to one of the shacks. + +The living quarters of the Gurlones was quite elaborate. There were +many books on rough shelves, and there was a small bench filled with +glass phials and chemicals, though the main laboratory was in one of +the long buildings. + +Professor Gurlone poured drinks for the five, and welcomed Durkin and +Maget as allies. + +"We'll need every man we can get, if we are to cope with these great +creatures," said old Gurlone. "The peons are too frightened to be of +use. Luckily, it was a frog we came upon on the banks of the +subterranean river. There is no telling how many more creatures of the +same or greater size may be down there. We will have to destroy them, +every one." + +Maget and Durkin shuddered. "Say," blurted Durkin, his face working +nervously, "how the hell did that frog get so big? I thought I was +seein' things, Professor." + +"No, no," said Professor Gurlone. "You see, the ore in the mine +contains radium, that is, salts of radium. It is a pitchblende +deposit, and it happens to be so rich in radium content that +throughout the ages it has affected all the life in the cavern. The +arid land surrounding the ore--this has been, generally, one of the +characteristics of radium deposits--has kept most of the jungle +creatures away, but underground beings such as reptiles, worms and +frogs, have gradually become immune to the effects of the ore and have +grown prodigiously and abnormally under the stimulation of the rays +given off by the radium. + +"Now, this is nothing strange in itself, but never before has such a +rich deposit been discovered, so that the amounts of radium available +have been too small to really check its effect on growth in animals. +That is our chief scientific object in coming here: we realized, from +Senor Espinosa's description of the played-out silver mine he had, and +from his loss of sight, that he had stumbled upon a valuable deposit +of radium. It usually occurs with silver, that is, the uranium mother +ore does, through the disintegration of which radium is formed. The +content of radium per ton in this ore proved unbelievably rich: we +were delighted. I have always suspected that the animal cell might be +stimulated into abnormal growth by exposure to radium salts, for such +a thing already has been hinted at in the scientific world. Not till +our chance came here, however, has enough radium been available for +the experiments." + + * * * * * + +Maget and Durkin listened with open mouths. Radium meant but vague +things to them. They had heard of radium paint which shone in the dark +on the dials of watches and clothes, but of the properties of the +metal and its salts they were utterly ignorant. + +"That radium stuff is what makes the funny light in that mine, then?" +asked Maget. + +"Exactly. The radio-activity of the elements in the ore give off the +light. There are three rays, the alpha, beta and gamma, and--" + +The professor forgot himself in a lecture on the properties of radium. + +Durkin, breaking in, asked, slyly. "Is this radium worth as much as +silver?" + +Young Kenneth Gurlone laughed, and even old Professor Gurlone smiled. +"Radium is worth more than gold or diamonds or platinum. Its value is +fabulous. We have five million dollars worth already, in the form of +the chloride." + +"Whew," whistled Durkin. + +He glanced sidewise at Maget. + +"Yes," said Professor Gurlone, "five million dollars worth of it! +Those great monsters who have been developed throughout the ages by +the action of the radium rays on their bodies, causing them to grow so +prodigiously, are but incidents. We must destroy them, so that our +work cannot be interfered with. We must use dynamite, blow them to +bits. They are powerful enough to crush the stone bank by the mine +mouth and ruin the labors of the past two years, gentlemen." + +Armed, and once more fortified with whiskey, the five made their way +outside. The moon was darkened by an immense shadow, as one of the +giant bats winged its way over their heads. But there were no more +monster frogs. The ugly, bulky shapes of the dead polywog and its +parent lay before them. + +"We are safe for the moment," said Professor Gurlone. "Go and quiet +the peons, Espinosa: they will listen to you." + + * * * * * + +The peons still wailed in terror; the blind Espinosa slipped silently +away. + +"Come," said Professor Gurlone, to his son and to Maget and Durkin. "I +will show you the laboratory, so that you can understand better the +effects of radium on growth." + +The professor led them to the long, low, many-windowed building +nearby, and flooded it with light. It contained cage after cage in +which were monkeys, pumas, and various jungle folk. These creatures +set up a chattering and howling at the light and intruders. + +Maget glanced curiously about him. He saw shining vials and glassware +of queer shapes on long black tables, and tubes of chemicals. There +were immense screens of dull lead. "Those are for protection," said +Professor Gurlone, "as are the lead-cloth suits we wear. Otherwise we +would be burned by radium rays." + +Maget looked about, to see if his partner was listening, but he had +gone away. + +However, Maget was intensely interested. He went from cage to cage as +Professor Gurlone, rather in the manner of a man giving a lecture to +students, pointed out animal after animal that had been treated by the +radium. + +"This," said the professor, "is a monkey which usually attains a +height of two feet. You can see for yourself that it is now larger +than a gorilla." + + * * * * * + +The horrible, malformed creature bared its teeth and shook its bars in +rage, but it was weak, evidently, from the treatment accorded it. Its +hair was burned off in spots, and its eyes were almost white. + +There was a jaguar, and this beast seemed to have burst its skin in +its effort to grow as large as three of its kind. + +"You see, we have not so much time as nature," said Professor Gurlone. +"These beasts cannot be enlarged too rapidly, or they would die. They +must be protected from the direct rays of the radium, which is +refined. In the ore, the action is more gradual and gentle, since it +is less concentrated. But the metal itself would burn the vital organs +out of these creatures, cause them to be struck blind, shrivel them up +inside and kill them in a few minutes in the quantity we have. We +expose them bit by bit, allowing more and more time as they begin to +grow immune to the rays. Here, you see, are smaller creatures which +have grown some eight or ten times beyond normal size." + +All the animals seemed the worse for wear. Maget, his brain reeling, +yet was beginning to grasp what radium did to one. It was not gold +that you could pick up and carry away. + +"If a man touched that radium," he asked, "what would happen to him?" + +"Just what I said would happen to the animals if we did not give it to +them gradually," said Gurlone, with a wave of his hand. "It would kill +him, strike him down as though by invisible poison gas. His heart and +lungs would cease to function, pernicious anemia would set in, as the +red corpuscles in his blood perished by millions. He would be struck +blind, fall down and die in agony." + +To Maget came the picture of the unfortunate Juan. As though answering +his unasked question, Professor Gurlone went on. "We had a peon coming +up with us," he said. "His name was Juan. He stole my sample-case, +which contained an ounce of radium chloride, and ran off with it. If +he opens it, it will kill him in just that way." + + * * * * * + +Maget shivered. "But--but didn't it hurt you to carry it?" he asked. + +"No. For it was incased in a lead container some two inches in +thickness, and the rays cannot penetrate such a depth of lead. They +are trapped in the metal." + +"Father, father, you're wasting time," broke in Kenneth Gurlone, +shaking his yellow head. "We must act at once. The peons are almost +mad with fear. Even Espinosa cannot quiet them. And every moment is +precious, for the monsters may break forth." + +But Maget was looking nervously about for Durkin. Where was he? Durkin +had his mind on the treasure, and-- + +As they turned toward the door, the professor saying. "The rays from +the ore, which is not so concentrated as the purified metal, do not +kill--" Durkin suddenly appeared. + +He carried his rifle at his hip, and he limped and cursed angrily. +"Come across," shouted Durkin. "Give me the key to that stone house. +Snap into it, and no argument." + +"The key--to the stone bank?" repeated old Gurlone. + +"Yes. I'll give you five counts to throw it over--then I'll shoot you +and take it," snarled Durkin savagely. "I want that treasure, whatever +it is, and I'll have it. One ... two ... three...." The tramp sent a +shot over their heads as a warning. + +"Hey, Bill, easy, easy," pleaded Maget. "That stuff is radium. It'll +ruin you, boy!" + +"Shut up, you yeller-bellied bum," snarled Durkin. "Four...." + +A tinkle of metal came on the stone floor of the laboratory, as old +Gurlone tossed his keys to Durkin. + +"Don't go in that shack," cried young Gurlone. "It'll be your death, +man--" + +"Liars," yelled Durkin, and backed out the door. + +"H'm," said old Gurlone, turning to Maget. "So you came to rob us, +eh?" + + * * * * * + +But Maget thought of Juan, and then he knew he did not want Durkin, in +spite of his failings, to perish so. He ran for the door, and across +the clearing. + +"Durkin--Bill--wait, it's Frank--" + +Great bellowings sounded from the bowels of the earth, but Maget +ignored these in his effort to save his partner. Durkin had the +padlock off the stone shack, and pulled back the door. + +As the door disclosed the interior, Maget could see that a greenish +haze filled the entire building. Wan liquid light streamed forth like +heavy fluid. + +Bravely, to save his pal from death, Maget ran forward. But Durkin had +entered the stone shack. + +Maget went to the very door of the building. Durkin was inside, and +Maget could see his partner's thick form as a black object in the +strange, thick air. + +An eery scream came suddenly from Durkin's lips; Maget wrung his hands +and called for help. + +"Come out, Bill, come out," he cried. + +Durkin evidently tried to obey, for he turned toward the door. But his +knees seemed to give way beneath him, he threw his arm across his eyes +as he sank to the ground, crying in agony, incoherent sounds issuing +from his lips. + +Shriek after shriek the unfortunate man uttered. As Maget made a dash +forward to take a chance with death and rescue his friend, Professor +Gurlone and his son Kenneth ran up and threw a black cloak over the +tramp. + +The three entered the shack of death. Maget, not entirely covered, +felt his heart give a terrific jump, and he gasped for breath. Durkin +was quivering on the floor which was lined with lead. + + * * * * * + +Round vials stood about the room like a battery of search-lights, and +from these emanated the deadly green haze. + +But almost before Maget touched his pal, Durkin was dead. Curled up as +though sewed together by heavy cords. Durkin lay in a ball, a shaking +mass of burned flesh. + +The two Gurlones pushed out ahead of them, and raised their hands. +They had on their black suits and their helmets. + +"It is too late to do anything for him now," said Kenneth Gurlone +sadly. "He was headstrong. You can see for yourself that the five +million dollars takes care of itself. Certain death goes with it if +you are unprotected. These lead-cloth suits will keep off the rays for +a short time. We always wear them when we are working with the metal, +even when we have a lead screen." + +"Poor Bill," sobbed Maget. "It's terrible!" + +Professor Gurlone shrugged. "It was his own fault. He was a thief and +he would not let us stop him. I hope it's been a lesson to you, +Maget." + +"Yes, I want to help you," said Maget. "If you'll keep me with you, +I'll work for you and be straight. Give me a chance." + +"Good. Then shake hands on it," said Kenneth, and they clasped hands +firmly. + +Espinosa appeared from the darkness. "The peons are mad with terror," +he said morosely. "They cannot be held much longer. They will revolt." + +"Well, we must kill the creatures in the cavern: that will quiet them +more than anything else," said Professor Gurlone. + +"Better close the stone shack," said Kenneth. + +But as he spoke, a vast shape, another giant frog, appeared in the +entrance of the shaft. + +"Get some dynamite and fuses," ordered Professor Gurlone quietly. +"Come on Kenneth, and you, Maget, if you care to risk your life. You +need not do so unless you wish to." + +Bravely, the older man led the way towards the croaking monster. The +ground shook at its approach. It was heading for the bodies of the +dead frog and polywog, bent on a search for food. Evidently these vast +creatures were forced to prey upon one another for sustenance. + + * * * * * + +The rifles spoke, and Maget and the professor, in their black suits, +protected by the lead-cloth and helmets from the rays, advanced. They +poured bullet after bullet into the frog. + +Kenneth came running to join them, and Espinosa stood by. Kenneth had +dynamite bombs with fuses ready for lighting and throwing. He also +brought more ammunition, and the three armed themselves to the teeth. + +It was well after midnight when they started into the mine. They knew +they must act quickly or retreat, for the bellowing sounded nearer and +nearer the surface of the earth. + +Each man carried big, powerful flashlights, and the three entered the +mine shaft and walked across the seething slugs into the bowels of the +earth. + +"Stay close together," ordered old Gurlone. + +The mine was easy to descend for the first hundred yards. It led in a +gentle slope downward. The way, save for a few giant bats and moths, +and the big maggots, was clear. The greenish haze, not so bright as +that in the death shack, enveloped them, but they needed their flashes +to see clearly. + +"Slowly, take it easy," counseled old Gurlone. + +The mine spread out now, and began a steeper descent. The air was +poor, and it was hard to breathe through the mask. Maget, his heart +thumping mightily, listened to the roaring within the depths of the +mine. + +Now the ground seemed to drop away before them. Maget could hear the +running of water, the underground river, and every now and then there +came an immense splash, as if some great whale had thrown itself about +in the water. + +A terrifically loud hissing filled their ears, and suddenly, before +them, showed an utterly white snake with a head as big as a barrel. +Its white eyes glared sightlessly, but its tongue stuck forth for +several feet. + +Kenneth Gurlone coolly tossed a lighted bomb at the creature: the +explosion shattered their ear-drums, but it also smashed the serpent. + + * * * * * + +The writhing, wriggling coils, bigger than the body of a horse, +slashed about, dangerously near. They picked themselves up, and pushed +on, keeping close to the right wall. + +A great bat smashed against Maget, and knocked the light out of his +hand, but the blow was a glancing one, and he was able to retrieve his +light and hurry on. + +They were far from the entrance now. The hole which had been broken +through by the peons showed before them, and they could see milky +water dashing over black rocks. + +Pallid eyes looked at them, and they knew they gazed upon another of +the giant frogs. They tossed a bomb at the creature, and blew a jagged +hole in his back. No sooner had he begun to die than there came a +sudden rush of other monsters and a feast began. + +"Throw, all together," yelled Kenneth Gurlone. + +Into the vast mass of creatures, who crowded one another in the river +for their share of the spoils, they threw bomb after bomb. The +dynamite deafened them, and acrid fumes choked them, but they fired +their rifles at the prodigious animals and there, in the big river +cavern, was a seething mass of horrible life, dying in agony. + +The bellowings and hissings sounded louder, so loud that the earth +shook as if actuated by a mighty earthquake. + +Maget gripped Kenneth Gurlone's arm. "My bombs are gone," he shouted. + +He had but a few rounds of ammunition left, and still more of the +giant reptiles appeared. A centipede with its creeping, horrible legs +topped the mass of squirming matter; they could see the terrific sting +of the creature, so deadly when but a fraction of an inch long, and +which was now at least a foot, armed with poison. + +There came the rush of more bats and moths, a rush that threw the +three men off their feet. + +"We must have opened the hole more with our bombs," shrieked old +Gurlone. "The dead bodies attract the other creatures, more and more +of them are coming. It is impossible; we cannot deal with them all." + + * * * * * + +The vast gobbling of the great animals in the river below them was so +prodigious they could not grasp it. It seemed it must be optical +illusion. In a few moments, the dead had been eaten, swallowed whole, +and fights were progressing between the victors. + +They tossed the rest of their bombs, fired the remaining ammunition, +and as they prepared to retreat, several of the big creatures slopped +over and started up the river bank into the mine shaft. + +They ran for their lives, the three. Madly, with the earth shaking +behind them as they were pursued by a hopping monster of a beetle with +immense mandibles reaching out at them, they dashed for the open air. + +Giant moths and bats struck at them, and Maget fell down several times +before he reached the outside, and he was bruised and out of breath. + +"Come on, there are too many to fight," gasped old Gurlone, throwing +off the lead suit. + +But there was no need to talk. The creatures, disturbed by the bombs, +had collected in one spot and, shown the way out by one of their +number, were coming. + +Espinosa, with Kenneth Gurlone holding his hand, ran swiftly for the +hills surrounding the valley. Maget helped old Professor Gurlone, who +was so out of breath that he could scarcely move. + +The great beetle which had been pursuing them was the first to break +forth into the valley. Turning back for a look over his shoulder, +Maget saw the thing pause, but the cavern belched forth a vast array +of monsters, the beasts roaring, hissing, bellowing, in an increasing +mass of sound. + +They swarmed over the ground, and giant bats and moths winged their +way about the heads of the monsters. + +At the rim of the valley, the four men paused. + +"God help the peons," said Kenneth Gurlone. + + * * * * * + +Now the horde of monsters swelled more and more; the bats and moths +winged in mad frenzy about the open door of the radium shack. There +were great beetles, centipedes, ants, crickets, hopping, crawling +things, and grotesquely immense in size. Fights progressed here and +there, but the majority of them were carried along in the sweep of the +multitude. + +"See, the radium kills those who get too close," said Professor +Gurlone, in a hushed voice. + +The giant moths and bats were unable to withstand the lure of the +green light. They flew with mad beatings of wings straight for the +open door of the death house, and many of the great creatures, +attracted by the light and urged on by an unexplainable force which +sent them to death like gnats and moths in a flame, crowded near to +the death-dealing radium. + +Not until the whole shack was covered with quivering forms of the +dead, did the other creatures veer off and with hops, creepings and +myriad giant legs, begin to cover the whole valley. + +The stone walls of the death shack had crumpled in with the weight; +the other buildings, more lightly built, gave at once, with crackings +and crashings. + +The four men were powerless to assist the unfortunate peons, who were +trapped in their barracks. The charged wires stopped many of the big +beasts, but soon the electric light was short-circuited, and the +valley, in the moonlight, was a seething mass of fighting, dying, +feasting monsters. + + * * * * * + +Other sounds, besides those made by the big creatures, came to the +ears of the stricken men on the hillside. The breaking of glass, the +cries of the jungle animals trapped in their cages, the shrieks of +dying peons who were eaten at a gulp by the big frogs or stung to +death, impaled on the mandibles of some great stinging centipede. + +In the spot where the radium death shack had been, was a pulpy mass of +livid, smoky light. + +Now the bowl of the valley was filled as by some vast jelly. The +creatures were slopping over the walls, and battling together. + +The shambles was not yet over, but the four could remain no longer. +They made their way down the hillside and struck out across the arid +lands. + +Maget, the tramp, became the leader. He was a trained jungle man, and +it was he who finally brought them safely to the Madeira. + +He was their strong man, the one who found the trail and located roots +and fruit for the party to subsist on. They nearly perished in the +trip for lack of water, but again, Maget was able to supply them with +roots which kept them from dying in agony. + + * * * * * + +They lay upon the river bank now, exhausted but alive. Maget had +assisted old Gurlone, acted as his staff, half carried him the last +miles of the trip. + +Their clothes were almost gone, they were burned to crisps by the +tropic sun. Flies and other insects had taken their toll. But Maget +had brought them through. + +The tall, thin fellow's hair had turned utterly white. But so had his +soul. + +"You're a good man, Maget," said Professor Gurlone. "You have saved +us, and you have been brave as a lion." + +Maget shook his head. "Professor," he said. "I came into the jungle to +rob you. Durkin and I bribed Juan to steal that radium, and I feel +responsible for his death. We thought you had diamonds or gold in the +Matto Grosso, and we were after it. That's why I am here." + +"You have repaid your debt to us, more than fully," said Kenneth, +holding out his hand. + +"Yes," said Espinosa. + +"Will you keep me with you, then?" asked Maget anxiously. "Are--will +you go back there?" + + * * * * * + +Professor Gurlone stared at him, and then said, in a surprised tone, +"Why, of course!" + +"But the monsters?" asked Maget. + +"Many of them will die in the outer air," said Gurlone. "The survivors +of the battles will start eating the dead. They will finally clear +away the debris of dead creatures about the radium shack. As each is +exposed to the rays of the concentrated metal, it will die. The others +will eat it, and be killed in turn. Thus, they will be destroyed. If +there are any survivors after this evident turn of events, then we +will cope with them when we return, reinforced. Dynamite, enough of +it, will finish them off. And, Maget, in your next pursuit after +knowledge of strange things, you may get a few earthly riches. The +radium is still there, and you will share in it." + +"Thank you," said Maget humbly. "I'm with you to the end." + +"You must keep quiet about this," cautioned Kenneth Gurlone. "We do +not want the world to know too much of our vast store of radium. It +would attract adventurers and we would be annoyed by ignorant men. But +we're thankful you lay drunk in that saloon when my father spoke of +the millions, Maget." + +In Manzos, Maget found himself a changed man. To his surprise, in +spite of his white hair, brought on by the horror of what he had seen, +he found that he had gained two inches in height, and that he was +larger of girth. This, Professor Gurlone told him, was the effect of +the radium rays. + +Never again did Maget lie drunk on the floor of a saloon. The events +through which he had gone had seared the tramp's soul, and he kept +close to his new master, Professor Gurlone. + + + + +The Moon Master + +_By Charles W. Diffin_ + +[Illustration: _He laughed loudly and contemptuously._] + +[Sidenote: Through infinite deeps of space Jerry Foster hurtles to the +Moon--only to be trapped by a barbaric race and offered as a living +sacrifice to Oong, their loathsome, hypnotic god.] + + +"Now that's a mighty queer noise." Jerry Foster told himself. He +dropped the pack from his shoulders and leaned closer to the canyon +rim. + +Miles behind him was the last beaten trail: Jerry wanted peace and +solitude and quiet. And now the quiet of the silent mountains was +disturbed. + +From far below came a steady, muffled roar. Faint it was, and distant, +but peculiar in its unvarying, unceasing rush. + +"Not water," Jerry concluded; "not enough down there. Sounds +like--like a wind--like a wind that can't quit. + +"Oh well--" He shrugged his shoulders and slipped into the straps of +his pack. Then he went back again to the granite ledge. "I wonder if +there's a way down," he said. + +There was, but it took all of Jerry's strength to see him safely +through. On a fan-shaped talus of spreading boulders he stopped. There +was a limestone wall beyond. And at its base, from a crevice that was +almost a cave, came a furious rush of air and steam. + +[Illustration] + +It touched him lightly a hundred feet away, and he threw himself flat +to escape the hot blast. Endlessly it came, with its soft, rushing +roar, a ceaseless, scorching blast from the cold rocks. + +"That's almighty funny," mused Foster, and sniffed the air. There was +no odor. + +"And is it hot!" he said. "Nothing like that in my geology book. And +what is beyond? Looks like concrete work, as if someone had plastered +up the cave." He picked his way quickly across the rock slope. + +It was hard going. Below him the rocks and dirt went steep to the +canyon floor. At its foot the blast swept diagonally over the slope. +He must see what lay beyond.... + +"Curious," he thought; "curious if that is nature's work--and a lot +more so if it isn't." + +A rock rolled beneath his feet. Another! He scrambled and fought +desperately for foothold in the slipping earth. Then, rolling and +clawing, he rode helpless on the slide straight toward the mysterious +blast. He felt it envelop him, hot and strangling. His lungs were dry +and burning ... the blazing sun faded from the rocks ... the world was +dark.... + + * * * * * + +Darkness was still about him when he awoke. But it was cool; the air +was sweet on his lips. And it was not entirely dark. + +He turned his head. He was in a room. On a rough-hewn table a candle +was burning. Its light cast flickering shadows on walls of stone. +Rumbling in his ears was the sound of the blast that had overwhelmed +him. It echoed, seemingly, from far back in the stone cliff. + +Jerry made a move to sit up. He found that his hands and feet were +tied, his body bound to the rough board bed. + +At the sound of his stirring, a figure came out from the farther +shadow. It was that of a man. Jerry looked at him in silence. He was +tall, his thin erectness making him seem abnormal in the low room. The +lean face was unshaven, and from under a thatch of black hair a pair +of deep-set eyes stared penetratingly at the figure on the rude bed. + +"Well," asked Jerry, at length, "what's the big idea?" + +There was no reply. Only the intent, staring eyes. + +"You got me out of that man-trap of yours," Jerry continued. "You +saved my life." + + * * * * * + +The tall man finally spoke. "Yes, I saved your life. You missed the +hottest part of the exhaust. I pumped you full of oxygen." + +"Then why tie me up like this?" Jerry Foster was frankly puzzled. + +"You are lucky to be alive. Spies are not always allowed--" He +interrupted himself abruptly. "You are a reporter," he stated. + +"Wrong," said Jerry Foster. + +"Who sent you?" + +"Nobody sent me. I heard the noise of your infernal blast-furnace and +came down to have a look." + +"Who sent you?" repeated the man. "Goodwin? The Stillwater crowd? Who +was it?" + +"I don't know what you are talking about," protested Jerry. "I don't +know who your Goodwin or Stillwater people are. I don't know who you +are--I don't give a damn. Take these ropes off and cut out the +melodrama. I'll go on my way, and I don't care if I never see you +again." + +"That's a lie." The tall figure leaned over to shake a bony fist. +"You'd report to Goodwin. He stole my last invention. He'll not get +this." + +Jerry considered the wild figure carefully. "He's a nut," he thought. +When he spoke, his voice was controlled. + +"Now, see here," he said: "I don't know anything about this. I'm Jerry +Foster, live in San Francisco--" + +"So does Goodwin." + +"Confound you and your Goodwin! So do a million other people live +there! I'm getting away from there; I'm heading into the hills for a +short vacation. All I want is to get away from the world. I'm looking +for a little peace and quiet." + + * * * * * + +The thin man interrupted with a harsh laugh. + +"Come here spying," he said, "and tell me you want to get away from +the world." Again he laughed shrilly. + +"And I am going to be your little fairy godmother. I wish you were +Goodwin himself! I wish I had him here. But you'll get your +wish--you'll get your wish. You'll leave the world, you shall, +indeed." + +He rocked back and forth with appreciation of his humor. + +"Didn't know I was all ready to leave, did you? All packed and ready +to go. Supplies all stowed away; enough energy stored to carry me +millions of miles. Or maybe you did know--maybe there are others +coming...." He hurried across the room to open a heavy door of split +logs in the rock wall. + +"I'll fool them all this time," he said; "and you'll never go back to +tell them." The door closed behind him. + +"Crazy as a bed-bug," Jerry told himself. He strained frantically at +the ropes that bound him. "Looks bad for me: the old bird said I'd +never go back. Well, what if I die now ... or six months from now? +Though I know that doctor was wrong." + +He tried to accept his fate philosophically, but the will to live was +strong. And one of his wrists felt looser in its bonds. + + * * * * * + +Across the room his pack lay on the floor, and in it was a heavy +forty-five. If he could get the pistol.... A knot pulled loose under +his twisting fingers. One hand was free. He worked feverishly at the +other wrist. + +The ropes were suddenly loose. He pulled himself to his feet, took a +moment to regain control of cramped muscles, then flung himself at the +pack. When the heavy door opened he was behind it, his pistol in his +hand. + +There was no struggle: the lanky figure showed no maniacal fury. +Instead, the man did a surprising thing. He sank weakly upon the rough +bunk where Jerry had lain, his face buried in his thin hands. + +"I should have let you die," he said slowly, hopelessly. "I should +have let you die. But I couldn't do that.... And now you'll steal my +invention for Goodwin." + +Jerry was as exasperated as he was amazed. + +"I told you," he almost shouted. "I never knew anyone named Goodwin! I +don't care a hoot about your invention. And as for letting me die--why +didn't you? That's a puzzle: you were about to kill me, anyway." + +"No," said the other patiently. "I wasn't going to kill you." + +"You said I'd never go back." + +"I was going to take you with me." + +"Take me where?" + +"To the moon," said the drooping figure. + +Jerry Foster stared, open-mouthed. The pistol lagged in his limp hand. +"To the moon!" he gasped. + +Then: "See here," he said firmly. "I've got you where I want you."--he +held the pistol steady--"and now I'm going to learn what's back of +this. I think you are crazy, absolutely crazy. But, tell me, who are +you? What do you think you're doing? What was the meaning of that +roaring blast?" + + * * * * * + +The man looked up. "You don't know?" he asked eagerly. "You really +don't?" + +"No," said Jerry; "but I'm going to find out." + +"Yes," the other agreed. "Yes, you can, now that you've got the +upper-hand. I guess I was half crazy when I thought I had been spied +out. But I'll tell you." + +He sat erect. "I am Thomas J. Winslow," he said, and made the +statement as if it were an explanation in itself. + +"Well," said Jerry, "that's no burst of illumination to my ignorance. +Come again." + +The man called Winslow was ready--anxious--to talk. + +"I am an inventor. I have made millions of dollars"--Jerry looked at +the disheveled apparel of the speaker and smiled--"for other people. +The Stillwater syndicate stole my valveless motor. Then I developed my +television set. Goodwin beat me out of that: he will have it on the +market inside of a year. I swore they should never profit by this, my +greatest invention." + +Jerry was impressed in spite of himself by the man's earnest +simplicity. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"I've broken the atom," said Winslow. "First tore the atoms of +hydrogen and oxygen apart--dissociated them in the molecule of +water--and have resolved them into their energy components. That's +what you heard--the reaction. It it self-sustaining, exothermic. That +hot blast carried off the heat of my retort." + + * * * * * + +Winslow rose from the bunk. Gone was his listless despondency. + +"Put up that gun," he said: "you don't need it now. I think we +understand each other better than we did." He crossed with quick +strides to the door leading into the cliff. + +"Come with me," he told Foster. "I am leaving to-day. You will not +stop me. But before I go I will show you something no other man than +myself has ever seen." + +He led the way through the doorway. There was another room beyond, +Jerry saw. It was a cave. Plainly Winslow had taken these caves in the +rocks and had made of them a laboratory. + +A lantern gave scant illumination: Jerry made out a small electric +generator, and that was all. He felt a keen disappointment. Somehow +this thin-faced man had communicated to him something of his own +belief, his own earnestness. + +"What kind of a laboratory do you call this?" he demanded. But the +other was busy. + +In the wall an opening had been closed with a small iron door, with +cement around it. Winslow opened it and reached through. He was +evidently adjusting something. + +The little dynamo began to hum. There was a crackling hiss from beyond +the iron doorway. The opening was flooded with a clear blue light. + +Then the roar began. It was tremendous, deafening, in the echoing +cave. + +"You may look now," said Winslow, and stood aside. + + * * * * * + +Jerry peered through. There was another cave beyond. In it was a small +metal cylinder, a retort of some kind. The blue light came from a +crooked bulb beyond. The retort itself was white-hot, despite a +stream of water flowing upon it. A cloud of steam drove continuously +out and up through a crevice in the rocks. + +The water flowed steadily from some subterranean stream in the +limestone formation. It was diverted for its cooling purposes, but a +portion also flowed continuously into the retort. Jerry's eyes found +this, and he could see nothing else. For, before his eyes, the +impossible was occurring. + +The retort was small, a couple of feet in diameter. It had no +discharge pipes, could hold but a few gallons. Yet into it, in a +steady stream, flowed the icy water. Gallons, hundreds of gallons, +flowing and flowing, endlessly, into a reservoir which could never +hold it. + +The inventor watched Foster with complacent satisfaction. + +"Where does it go?" Jerry asked incredulously. + +"Into nothingness," was the reply. "Or nearly that!" + +"See?" He held up a flask of pale green liquid. "And this," he added, +exhibiting another that was colorless. + +"I have worked here for many months. I have converted thousands of +thousands of gallons of water. It has flowed into that retort, never +to return. I have gathered this, the product, a few drops at a time. + +"The protons and the electrons," he explained, "are re-formed. They +are static now, unmoving. Call this what you will--energy or +matter--they are one and the same." + +"Still," said Jerry, gropingly, "what has all that to do with the +moon? You said you were going there." + + * * * * * + +"Yes," agreed the inventor. I am going, and this is the driving force +to carry me there. I pass a certain electric current through these two +liquids. I carry the wires to two heavy electrodes. Between them +resolution of matter occurs. The current carries these two components +to again combine them and form what we call matter, the gases +hydrogen and oxygen. + +"Do I need to tell you of the constant, ceaseless and tremendous +explosion that follows? + +"But enough of this! You said I was crazy. I gave you a few bad hours. +I have shown you this much as a measure of recompense. You have seen +what no other man has ever seen. It is enough." + +He motioned Foster through the door. The roaring ceased. The inventor +returned shortly, the two flasks of liquid in his hands. He +transferred both to two metal containers that were ready for the +precious load. He carried them with the utmost care as he went out of +doors. + +Once he returned, and Jerry knew by the crashes from the inner room +that the laboratory work was indeed done. There would be nothing left +to tell the secret to whomever might come. + +He followed Winslow outside, trailing him toward a wooded knoll. There +was a clearing among the trees. And in it, hidden from all sides, his +eyes found another curious sight. + +On the ground rested a dirigible in miniature. Still, it was small, he +reasoned, only by comparison with its monster prototype: actually it +was a sizable cylinder of aluminum that shone brightly in the sun. It +was bluntly rounded at the ends. There were heavy windows, open +exhaust ports, a door in the side, pierced through thick walls. +Winslow vanished within, while Jerry watched in pitying wonder. + + * * * * * + +Despite its size, it was a toy, an absurd and pitiful toy. Real genius +and lunacy had many an over-lapping line, Jerry reflected as he +approached to look inside. But he found Winslow in a room surrounded +by a network of curving, latticed struts. The machine was no makeshift +of a demented builder: it was a beautiful bit of construction that +Jerry Foster examined. + +"How did you ever get it here?" he marveled. "What you had in the +cave you could pack in, but this--all these parts--castings--cases of +supplies--" + +The inventor did not even turn. He was busy with some final +adjustments. + +"Flew it in," he said shortly. "Built it in an old shop I owned out +near Oakland." + +"And it flew?" Jerry was still incredulous. + +"Certainly it flew! On a drop or less of the liquids you saw." He +pointed to a heavy casting at the center of the machine. There were +braces tying it strongly to the entire structure, braces designed to +receive and transmit a tremendous thrust. + +"This is the generator. Blast expelled through the big exhaust at the +stern. These smaller exhausts go above and below--right and left at +the bow. Perfect control!" + +"And you flew it here!" Jerry was still trying to grasp that +incontrovertible fact. "And you were going to take me to the moon, you +said." + +He looked above him where a pale, silvery segment showed dimly in the +sky. "But why the moon?" he questioned. "Even granting that this will +fly through space...." + +"It will," the other interrupted. "I tried it. Went up to better than +fifty miles." + +Jerry Foster took a minute to grasp that statement, then continued: +"Granting that, why go to the moon? There is nothing there, no air to +speak of, no water! It's all known." + + * * * * * + +The inventor turned to face the younger man in the doorway. + +"There is _nothing_ known," he stated. "The modern telescopes reach +out a million light years into space. But the one place they have +never seen--can never see--is less than two hundred and fifty thousand +miles away. The moon, as of course you know, always keeps the same +side toward us. The other side of the moon has never been seen. + +"Listen," he said, and his deep-set eyes were afire with an intense +emotion. "The moon is no tiny satellite; it is a sister planet. It is +whirled on the end of a rope (we call it gravitation), swung around +and around the earth. How could there be water or anything fluid on +this side? It is all thrown to the other side by the centrifugal +force. Who knows what life is there? No one--no one! I am going to +find out." + +Jerry Foster was silent. He was thinking hard. He looked about him at +the clean hills, the trees, the world he knew. And he was weighing the +secure life he knew against a great adventure. + +He took one long breath of the clear air as one who looks his last at +a familiar scene. He exhaled slowly. But he stepped firmly into the +machine. + +"Winslow," he said, "have you any rope handy?" + +The inventor was annoyed. "Why, yes, I guess so. Why? What do you want +of it?" + +"I want you to tie me up again," said Jerry Foster. "I want you to +carry me off as you planned. I want to go with you." + +The tall man stared at the quiet, determined face before him. Slowly +his own strained features smoothed into kindly lines. He grasped tight +at Jerry's hand. + +"I was dreading that part of it," he confessed slowly: "going alone. +It would have been lonely--out there...." + + * * * * * + +The shining cylinder of aluminum alloy was hurtling through space. No +longer was it a ship of the air; it had thrown itself far beyond that +thin gaseous envelope surrounding the earth; out into the black and +empty depths that lay beyond. And in it were two men, each reacting in +his own way to an adventure incredible. One was deep in the +computation of astronomical data; the other athrill with a quivering, +nerve-shaking joy that was almost breath-taking. + +A metal grating that had formed the rear wall of their cabin was now +the floor. Winslow had thrown the ship into a vertical climb that made +of their machine a projectile shooting straight out from the earth. +Gravitation held them now to the grating floor. And, stronger even +than the earth-pull, was the constant acceleration of motion that made +their weight doubled again and again. + +The inventor moved ponderously, with leaden limbs, to take sights from +the windows above, to consult his maps of the sky, check and re-check +his figures. But Jerry had eyes only for the earth they had left. + + * * * * * + +Flat on the grating he lay, his eyes over a thick glass in a +proturbance of the shell that allowed him to stare and stare at what +lay directly below. He watched the familiar things of earth vanish in +fleecy clouds; through them there formed the great ball, where oceans +and continents drew slowly into focus. + +And now he was filled with a sense of great solitude. The world, in +its old, familiar companionship, was gone--probably forever. The +earth--_his_ earth--_his_ world--that place of vast distances on land +and on sea, of lofty mountain ranges and heaving oceans, of cities, +countries, continents--was become but a toy. A plaything from the +nursery of some baby god, hanging so quiet in space he could almost +reach and take it in his hands. + +Beyond it the sun was blaring, a hard outlined disc in the black sky. +Its rays made shining brilliance of a polar ice-cap. + +Jerry Foster closed his eyes and drew back from the glass. Again he +was aware of the generator, whose endless roar reverberated in their +compartment. A smaller but similar apparatus was operating on one of +the liquids from the inventor's laboratory to generate oxygen and +release it inside the room. An escape valve had been set to maintain +one atmosphere of pressure about them. Water dripped from a condenser +where both gases were formed to burn into water vapor and cool to +liquid form. + + * * * * * + +One of the windows below admitted a shaft of direct sunlight; it +illumined their room with a faint glow. It would never cease, Jerry +knew. They were in a place of eternal sunshine, yet a realm of an +endless night. Above him, as Jerry raised his head, the windows framed +nothing but utter blackness, save where some brilliant point marked +the presence of a star. He missed the soft diffusion of light that +makes daylight on earth. Here was only the one straight beam that +entered one window to make a circle of light on the opposite wall. + +Jerry looked from a window of heavy glass at the side. This had been +the bottom of their ship when they left. And he found in the heavens +the object of their quest. Clear-cut and golden was half the circle; +the rest glowed faintly in the airless void. He tried to realize the +bewildering fact--the moon, this great globe that he saw, was rushing, +as were they, to their trysting-place in space. + +Jerry stared until his eyes were aching. His mind refused to take hold +upon the truth he knew was true. He was suddenly tired, heavy with +weariness that was an aftermath of his emotional turmoil. He let his +heavy body relax where some blankets had piled themselves upon the +grated floor. The roar of the generator faded into far silence as he +slipped into that strange spaceless realm that men call sleep. + + * * * * * + +The human mind is marvelous in its power of adjustment, its +adaptability to the new and the strange. The unbelievable is so soon +the commonplace. Jerry Foster was to sleep more than once in this tiny +new world of Winslow's creating, this diminutive meteor, inside which +they lived and moved and thought and talked. The fact of their new +existence soon ceased as a topic of wonder. + +They alternated in their rest. And they counted the passage of time by +the hours their watches marked, then divided these hours into days out +there where there were no days. Seven of them had passed when the hour +came that Winslow chose for checking their speed. + +They were driving directly toward the moon, which was assuming +proportions like those of earth. The pilot admitted a portion of the +blast to a bow port, and the globe ahead of them gradually swung off. +The pilot was reversing their position in space to bring the powerful +blast of their stern exhaust toward the moon, so as to resist somewhat +its increasing pull. + +Now their stern windows showed the approaching globe. It was slowly +expanding. They were falling toward it. The inventor moved a rheostat, +and from behind them the stern blast rose to a tremendous roar. The +deceleration held them with unbearable weight to the rear of the +cabin. + +No thought now for the shining earth, yellow and brilliant in the +velvet sky above. Jerry Foster watched through the slow hours as the +globe beneath them enlarged and expanded in ever-increasing slowness. +Slowly their falling motion slackened as they cushioned against the +terrific thrust of the exhaust below. + + * * * * * + +The globe ceased to grow and held constant. Winslow cut the exhaust to +a gentler blast. They were definitely within the moon's gravitational +field; their last hold upon the earth was severed. The great globe was +revolving beneath them. + +"How about it?" Foster asked breathlessly. "It doesn't revolve like +that--not the moon!" + +"We have approached from the earth side," said the other, "but we have +overshot it. Say that the moon is revolving, or say that we are +swinging about it in an orbit of our own--it is all the same thing." + +"And soon," he added slowly, "we shall see...." He faltered and his +lips trembled and refused to frame the words of a dream that was +coming true. "We shall see ... the lost side of the moon. What will it +be ... what--will--it--be...?" + +To Foster the whole experience had now the unreality of a dream. He +could not bring himself into mental focus. His thoughts were blurred, +his emotions dead. + +They were approaching the moon, he told himself. It was the moon that +was there below them, slowly enlarging now, as their own earth had +hung below them, but dwindling, when they left. + +"The moon!" he told himself over and over. "The moon--it is real!" But +the numbness in his brain would not be shaken off. + +His voice, when he spoke, was casual. He might have been speaking of +any commonplace--a ball-game, or a good show. + +"The sun is coming from my right," he said. "We are going around +toward the dark side of the moon. Shall you land there?" + +Winslow shook his head. "Wait," he said, "and watch." + +Jerry returned to his circle of glass. + + * * * * * + +There was a shading of light on the surface below him. From the right +the sun's brilliance threw black shadows and bright beams transversely +over a wilderness of volcanic waste. And beyond, where the rays could +not reach, was a greater desolation of darkness, its blackness +relieved only by a dim light. He realized with a start of amazement +that the dim light he saw was that of their own earth far above: it +was lighting their approach to this sister orb. + +Their side-motion was swift as they drew nearer. Another hour and +more, and they were drawing toward an expanse of utter darkness. The +earth-light was fading where they passed. They were approaching, in +very fact, the other side of the moon. + +What was below? What mysteries awaited them? He shivered, despite the +warmth of the generator, cherry-red, that heated the snug cabin; +shivered with unformed thoughts of unknown terrors. But he forced his +voice to calm steadiness when he repeated his question to Winslow. + +"Must we land there?" he asked. "In the dark?" + +The inventor was piloting his ship with ceaseless concentration. Their +falling speed was checked; they were close enough so that the +whistling of air was heard merging with the thunder of their exhaust. +He moved the rheostat under his hand, and the thunder slackened. + +"No," he said. "You are forgetting your astronomy. This 'other side' +is subject to the same conditions as the near side. The sun shines on +them alike, but alternately. We are rounding the limb away from the +sun. We find, as you see, a darkness that is absolute except for the +light of the stars. Here the earth never shines, and the sun only +during the lunar day. But the sun is creeping down this other side. +Their day, equal to fifteen of our days, is beginning. We shall come +into the light again. I am checking our motion across the surface. We +shall land, when it seems best, later on. There will be light." + + * * * * * + +The thin strong hands of the pilot played over the current and valve +controls. Their ship slowly swung and dipped to a horizontal position. +A blast from below held them off from the moon. A bow port was roaring +as their speed slowly decreased. + +Minutes merged endlessly into long hours as Jerry's eager eyes +strained to detect some definite form on the surface beneath. Dimly a +glow appeared far ahead; slowly the darkness faded. They were moving +ahead, but their wild speed was checked. And slowly the new earth +below took on outline and form as the sun's glow crept over it. + +What would the light disclose? His mind held irrationally to thoughts +his reason would have condemned. He found himself watching for people, +for houses, lights gleaming from windows. This, in a region of cold +that approached the absolute zero. The reality came as a shock. + +The first rays that crept into vision were silvery fingers of light. +They reflected up to the heights in glittering brilliance. They +gathered and merged as the ship drove on toward the sunrise, and they +showed to the watching eyes a wondrous, a marvelous world. A world +that was snowbound, weighted and blanketed with a mantle of white. + + * * * * * + +To Jerry the truth came as a crushing, a horrible blow. He turned +slowly to look at his companion; to look and be startled anew by the +happiness depicted on the lean face. + +"I knew it," the pilot was saying. "I always knew it. But +now--now...." He was speechless with joy. + +"It's terrible!" said Foster. He almost resented the other's elation. +"It's a hell! Just a frozen hell of desolation." + +"Man--man!" was the response, "can't you see? Look! The whiteness we +see is snow, a snow of carbon dioxide. The cold is beyond guessing. +But the clear places--the vast fields--it's ice, man, it's ice!" + +"Horrible!" Jerry shuddered. + +"Beautiful," said the other. "Marvellous! Think, think what that +means. It means water in the hot lunar day. It means vapor and clouds +in the sky. It means that where that is there is air--life, perhaps. +God alone knows all that it means. And we, too, shall know...." + +The ship settled slowly to the surface of the new world. Black blobs +of shadow become distinct craters; volcanoes rose slowly to meet them, +to drift aside and rise above as they sank to the floor of a valley. +They came to rest upon a rocky floor. + +On all sides their windows showed a waste of torn and twisted rock. +Volcanic mountains towered to the heights, their sides streaked with +masses of lava, frozen to stillness these countless years from its +molten state. The rising sun, its movement imperceptible, cast long +slanting rays between the peaks. It lighted a ghostly world, white +with thick hoar-frost of solid carbon dioxide. A silent world, locked +in the stillness of cold near the absolute zero. Not a breath of air +stirred; no flurry of snow gave semblance of life to the scene. Their +generator was stillen, and the silence, after the endless roaring of +endless days, was overpowering. + + * * * * * + +But Winslow pointed exultantly from one window, where an icy expanse +could be seen. "That will be water," he said; "water, when the sun has +risen." + +He turned on the generator for warmth. The cold was striking through +the thick insulated walls. They sat silent, peering out upon that +boundless desolation, upon a world's breathless nakedness, exposed for +the first time in all eternity to human eyes. + +Jerry's mind was searching for some means of expression, but the words +would not come. There were neither words nor coherent thoughts to give +vent to the emotions that surged within him. + +Their watches showed the passage of nearly two earth days before they +dared venture forth. They watched the white mantle of frost vanish +into gas. From the darkness that they called "west," winds rushed +shriekingly into the sunrise. + +"Convection currents," Winslow explained; "off under the sun. In the +direct rays the heat grows intense; the air rises. This is rushing in +to fill the void. It will serve our ends, too. It will churn the air +into a mixture we can breathe, dispel the thick layer of CO_2 that +must have formed close to the ground." + +More hours, and the icy sheet was melting. A film of water rippled in +the gusts of wind. Winslow opened the release valve that would permit +the escape of air from their chamber, equalizing the pressures within +and without. The air hissed through the valve, and he closed it so the +escape was gradual. + +"We must exercise," he told Jerry. "We will decompress slowly, like +divers coming up from deep-sea work. But watch yourself," he warned. +"Remember you are six times as strong as you were on the earth. Don't +jump through the roof." + + * * * * * + +THE valve had ceased to hiss when Winslow opened it wide. The air in +their cabin was thin; their lungs labored heavily at first. Jerry felt +as he had felt more than once at some great elevation on earth. But +they lived, and they could breathe, and they were about to do what +never man had done--to set foot on this place men called the unknown +side of the moon. + +Earth habits were strong: Jerry brought his pistol and a hunting knife +out of his pack and hung them at his belt, as the inventor opened the +door and sniffed cautiously of the air. + +Jerry Foster's blood was racing; the air was cold on his face as he +rushed out. But it brought to his nostrils odors strange and yet +strangely familiar. He was oddly light-headed, irresponsible as a +child as he shouted and danced and threw himself high in the air, to +laugh childishly at the pure pleasure of his light landing. + +The sun made long shadows of two ludicrous figures that went leaping +and racing across the rocks. Their strength was prodigious, and they +were filled with an upwelling joy of living and the combined urge of +an eternity of spring-times. The very air tingled with life; there was +overpowering intoxication in this potent, exhilarating breath from a +world new-born. + +The ground that they crossed so recklessly was a vast honeycomb of +caves. Between the rocks the soil was soft with the waters from +melting ice, and the men laughed as they floundered at times in the +oozing mud. Beyond was a lake, and it was blue with a depth of color +that was almost black, a reflection of the deep, velvet blackness of +the sky overhead. And beyond that was the sloping side of an extinct +volcano. + +"Up--up!" Jerry shouted. "From up there we will see the whole +world--the whole moon!" He laughed as he repeated the exultant phrase: +"The moon--the whole moon!" + + * * * * * + +Despite their strength which carried them in wild bounds across +impassable chasms, their laboring lungs checked them in the ascent. +The joyous inebriation was wearing off. Winslow met his companion's +eyes sheepishly as they stopped where a sheer cliff of basalt above +caught and held the warmth of the sun's rays. Behind them it rose a +straight hundred feet, and before stretched a vast panorama. The sun +was mounting now in the sky. It brought into strong relief the welter +of volcanic waste that extended in bold detail through the clear air +far out to the horizon, where, misty and dim, the first vaporous +clouds were forming from the steaming earth. + +And as they watched, the depressing bareness and emptiness of that +gray-black expanse was changing. Far to the east a pink flush was +spreading on the hills. It wavered and flowed, and it changed, as they +watched, to deep areas of orange and red. The delicate pink swept in +waves over valleys and hills, a vast kaleidoscopic coloration that +rioted over a strange world. + +In silence it spilled into the valley below. The slope they had +traversed was radiant with color. + +At their feet the ground was in motion: it heaved and rolled in +countless places. Rounded shapes in myriads were emerging. +Plants--mushroom growths--poured up from the earth to drink in the +sunshine of their brief summer. They burst the earth to show +unfolding leaves or blunted, rounding heads, that grew before the +men's incredulous eyes. + +Winslow was the first to recover from the stupefying beauty of the +spectacle. + +"The machine!" he gasped. "Back to the ship! We'll be swamped, +overwhelmed...." He rushed madly back down the slope. + + * * * * * + +Jerry was beside him, a revulsion of feeling driving him to frantic +efforts. The piercing beauty that had enthralled him has become a +thing of terror. The soft, pulpy, growing things that crushed beneath +his feet were a menace in their lust for life. + +They were a mile and more from the machine. Could they ever find it, +Jerry wondered. The whole landscape was changed; bare rocks were +half-hidden now under clinging, creeping vines. Only the sun remained +as a guide. They must go toward the sun and a little north. + +He followed Winslow, who was circling a huge area of weird growths +that already were waist high. They leaped across a gaping chasm and +fought their way over a low hill, rank with vegetation, only to be +confronted by a maze of great stalks--stalks that sprouted as they +watched, dismayed, and threw out grotesque and awkward branches. + +They made one futile effort to force their way, but the trunks, though +pliant, were unyielding. To attempt to find their way through the +labyrinth was folly. + +"We've got to keep on trying," said Jerry Foster. "We've got to get +back, or...." + +Winslow, as the look in his eyes showed, needed no ending to that +sentence. There was the summer of a lunar day ahead; the inventor did +not need to be told of the scorching, broiling heat that would wither +the land when the sun struck from straight overhead. And in their ship +was food and water and a means of transport to the cooler heights +above. + + * * * * * + +It was Jerry who took charge of the situation. Here was a prodigious +laboratory in which Winslow's science was useless, but in fighting +with nature--even nature in as weird and terrifying a mood as +this--Jerry felt himself not entirely incompetent. + +He looked about him. It had been but an hour since they watched the +first onslaught of this life that engulfed them. And now they were cut +off. Through an opening, where bare rocks made a rift in the +vegetation, he saw again the high ground where they had stood. There +was more rock there on the volcanic slope: the growing things were in +clumps--islands, rather than continents of rank growth. + +"We must go back," he told Winslow, "and climb while we can. Get to +the high ground, take bearings on the place where we left the ship. +We'll look over the ground and figure some way to get there." + +Winslow nodded. He was plainly bewildered, lost in the new jungle. He +followed Jerry, who bounded across a crevice in the earth. The ground +was rotten with the honeycomb of caves and cracks. + +Jerry forced his way through and over a rock heap, where the thick +trunks of nightmare trees were spaced farther apart. There was an +opening ahead; he started forward, then stopped abruptly and motioned +the other to silence. + + * * * * * + +From beyond there came sounds. There was rending of soft, pliant +tissue. The sound came through the thin air from a grove up ahead, +where big plants were waving, though the wind had long since ceased. +To their ears came a snoring, blubbering snuffle. A stone was +dislodged, to come bounding toward them from the hillside; the soft +plants were flattened before it. The men cowered in the shelter of a +giant fungus. + +Beyond the rocks, above the mottled reds and yellows of the grotesque +trees, a head appeared. It waved at the end of a long, leathery neck. +All mouth, it seemed to the watchers, as they saw a pair of short +forelegs pull the succulent tops of the giant growth into a capacious +maw. Below, there was visible a part of a gigantic, grayish body. It +was crashing down toward them, eating greedily as it came. + +"Back," said Jerry softly. "Go back to that cave. We will hide there +in some crack in the ground." + +They picked their way noiselessly over the rocks. The cave they had +crossed offered a refuge from the beast. It went slantingly down into +the ground, a great tunnel, deep in the rock. They dropped into the +opening and started forward, only to recoil at the fetid stench that +assailed their nostrils. + +"A bear pit," gasped Jerry. "Great Heavens! What a smell!" + +They stopped, dismayed. Far below them in the bowels of some +subterranean passage was the crashing of loose stone; a scrambling and +scratching of great claws came echoing to them. They leaped madly for +the outer air. + +"Over here," Jerry directed, and led the way, crouching, to the +concealment of great stalks and vine-covered rocks. He pointed toward +the open ground where they had been a few moments before. The +tree-eater was out in full view. Its flabby, barrel-like body was +squatted like that of some unearthly, giant toad, on massive hind +legs. It sat erect, its forelegs hung in air, as a hoarse, snarling +cry came from the cave. The great head, perched on the long leathery +neck, waved from side to side. + + * * * * * + +The noise from the cave ceased. The rift in the earth was in plain +sight from where they cowered, and the eyes of the men were upon it. +One instant it was empty; the next, in uncanny silence, it was filled +with huge hideousness--an enormous, crouching beast. + +It was black, a dull leathery black. Its thick, hairless hide hung in +creases and folds on a gaunt frame. Shorter than the tree-eater, it +was still a thing of mammoth ugliness. Its hind legs were powerful and +armed with claws that curved deep into the earth; its front legs +displayed the same fearful weapons. A thick, heavy tail slashed +forward and back over the ground. And from this to the grinning, +heavy-toothed jaws and beady eyes where the long neck ended in a warty +head, it was an incarnation of pitiless ferocity. + +Was the scent of the hidden, shuddering men in its red nostrils? It +forgot them at the sight of the beast in the clearing. The snarling +cry echoed hideously in the thin air as the frightful body came erect +with neck extended, jaws open and dripping. It hurled itself through +the air in one terrific leap. + +Had there been any lingering hope in the minds of the men that they +had no carnivores to deal with, the ensuing struggle ended it. The +attacker tore great masses of living flesh from the struggling, +screaming body. The first cumbersome brute was helpless before its +destroyer. + + * * * * * + +Jerry was trembling and sick at the sight, but he grasped his +companion's arm and drew him after as he slipped quietly away. + +"To the high ground," he whispered. "It's our only hope. Perhaps we +can fight them off there--find some steep rock we can climb." They +worked their way desperately through the rubbery, obstructing growth. + +At the foot of the hill there was better going; the bare rock gave +winding and twisting passage to the heights. They could have leaped +over the stunted growths here, could have raced frantically for the +high ground, but they dared not. To leap up into view of those fierce, +searching eyes! It was unthinkable. They crouched low as they darted +from their concealment to new shelter, and crawled behind rocks when +open ground must be crossed. + +They had dared regain hope when again the paralyzing scream ripped +through the silence. It was answered by another and another from +distant points. The valley of the caves was spewing out its loathsome +dwellers from their winter's sleep. + +The men raced openly now for the heights. As he leaped, Jerry turned +to see over one shoulder a pursuer appear. It was one of the +flesh-eaters, head to the ground on their trail. At sight of them its +cry rang out again. It bounded forward in pursuit. And again there +were answering screams from the jungle growth. + +The men threw themselves frantically up the mountainside. Once Winslow +landed in a sprawling heap and groaned as he drew himself to his feet. +The beast was below them. Jerry seized a great boulder, whose +earth-weight would have made it immovable. He raised it above his head +and sent it crashing down the slope. + + * * * * * + +Another and another he threw. One struck the great beast in mid-air; +it was pure luck that drove the stone crashing against the creature's +head. It fell back with a blood-chilling snarl that was half shriek. +Another monster appeared, to throw itself upon the first and tear at +the crushed, waving head. + +Jerry took his companion by the arm. His voice came strangled from his +straining lungs. "Are you hurt?" he gasped. "Can you run?" + +Winslow nodded breathlessly. Again they gathered themselves for their +wild, leaping retreat toward the top. An uproar of furious fighting +behind them marked where a score of the monsters had gathered for the +feast. + +Jerry watched vainly for some refuge, some pinnacle of rock or +precipice they could climb, and from which they could beat down their +attackers. There was nothing but the welter of volcanic waste: rock +heaps and boulders and smooth streams of solid lava. Perhaps in the +crater, he thought, over the ragged crest of the cone, might be some +place of safety. + +The pack was in full cry again as they climbed gaspingly to the top. +Beyond lay the funnel-shaped crater. Its vast inner slopes were less +steep than the hill they had climbed. They were covered with a jungle, +like those they had seen--a maze of red toadstools and distorted +trees. + +Jerry turned savagely to face the oncoming brutes. This, he knew, was +the end. For this they had hurled themselves through space--to make a +morning morsel for these incredible beasts. + + * * * * * + +About the men was a confusion of granite rocks, thrown from the crater +to provide weapons, crude and futile, for two puny earth-dwellers. The +men raised great rocks in the air and threw them with all their +strength. Jerry struggled with a mammoth boulder,--Winslow leaping to +his aid. They toppled it over to start an avalanche of devastation +that swept into the oncoming monsters. + +And again there was respite for their aching arms, while the +hunger-crazed brutes tore at the bruised bodies of their fellows. + +Jerry Foster looked longingly again toward the crater. Should they +chance the shelter of the jungle growth? Hopeless, he knew when these +monsters could crash their way through while the men were impeded at +every step. The mottled, orange-green stalks, as he watched them, +seemed to move. He dashed the sweat from his face--his hair hung +matted on his forehead--and passed a grimy hand across his eyes. +Plainly, one of those stalks crossed a rocky-floored clearing. + +Was he dreaming? Was this all a dream--a mad nightmare from which he +could force himself to wake? Another moved. He saw definitely a +mushroom growth pass swiftly to lose itself in a neighboring clump. +Dreaming? No! The screams from behind him and Winslow's hoarse yell +proved the stark reality of his surroundings. + +The vile creatures were close: Jerry could see their fierce heads +dripping with blood. He reached for his pistol, knew instantly it was +useless against these mammoth brutes, and joined Winslow, who was +straining desperately at another great rock. It toppled and fell. +Jerry hurled himself at a heap of smaller boulders and sent them +crashing as fast as he could seize them and throw. + + * * * * * + +One quick look behind him showed still the impossible vision he had +seen. And now there were figures--a mob of them--figures that threw +off their wrappings of vegetation as they ran, cast to the ground the +toadstool disguises that they held. They were caricatures of men that +were swarming up the hill.... + +He swung again in one last hopeless stand against the first horrible +enemy. The two men poured a torrent of stones down the slope; they +were useless, except for their delaying the advance. The beasts leaped +and dodged. They were close when the rock-rain increased to a deluge. + +Jerry was fighting in a red haze through which he saw dimly. He was +aware of the hailstorm of boulders that were thick in the air. He saw +vaguely the white faces and copper-clad bodies of strange men leaping +about him, and he heard the wild bedlam of their shrieks as they +joined in the mad battle against the common enemy. + +The beasts were swept off in a landslide of loose rock--all but one. +Above them, on a high point of stone, it was crouching to spring. A +wild human figure, its flesh white as chalk, leaped forward with a +tangle of fibers. The tangle was thrown as the brute was in air. A net +spread and wrapped around the monster. It fell, clawing and tearing, +to roll helplessly down the slope. + +The battle was won. Jerry swayed drunkenly on his feet. About him the +mountains seemed whirling, where unreal figures of men with dead +white skin and shining copper armor danced dizzily. + +He met for an instant the look from Winslow's dazed eyes. Out of the +past a picture flashed clearly: Winslow--this same Winslow--arguing +that the moon might hold mysteries still. He laughed thickly. + +"And I said it was all known," he muttered through slack lips. +"Nothing on the moon that wasn't known...." + +He was still laughing in a wild inebriation as a net settled close to +entangle his swaying figure and bear him helpless to the ground. He +saw Winslow similarly bound, saw him lifted to the shoulders of +shouting, yelling men, whose stupid, pasty faces were wide-eyed with +excitement. + +He, too, was raised into the air.... They were being carried toward +the crater's mouth.... + + * * * * * + +A fight for life in thin air does not make for clear thinking. Jerry +Foster knew only that a nightmare world was whirling about him; that +beneath him powerful shoulders supported, while the one who carried +him leaped at racing speed down the slope. + +They went more slowly down pathways cleared through the rank +vegetation. Soft, pulpy vines from the grotesque trees brushed his +face. He tried vaguely to shield himself, but his hands were bound +fast. He was helpless in the entangling folds of the net. + +The touch of cold stone brought him to his senses. He was lying on +smooth rock. They were in a clearing. He turned his head to find +Winslow, but could not find him. + +Across the open ground were naked men, their bodies, like these +others, dead white in the sun's glare. They were dragging giant stalks +to earth by means of ropes. Trunks and branches, bright in their +colors of yellow and orange and flaming red, were hacked to short +lengths and piled on all sides. The workers, as Jerry watched, +dropped their implements to race toward him. There was a press of +flat, white faces above. His captors, in their copper armor, beat the +newcomers back. The babel of chattering voices was deafening. + + * * * * * + +Again he was lifted into the air--plainly these were no weaklings he +had to deal with--and again the warrior band surrounded him as the +march was resumed. The milling, shrieking crowd of workers followed in +an ear-splitting mob. + +The forest ended, and the men went slowly now down smooth, rocky +slopes to stop upon a wide, level expanse. Before he was placed on the +ground Jerry had a glimpse of a funnel-shaped pit--the mouth of the +extinct volcano. And toward it, bound and helpless, was being carried +a struggling form which he thought he recognized. + +"Winslow!" he shouted. But the bodies in their gleaming copper armor +closed about him in a solid throng and cut off his view. + +In the sky the sun had moved slowly upward since first they landed. It +slanted brightly now into the eyes of the prostrate man and made a +spectacle of his twisting contortions as he tried to get his hands on +his knife in its sheath at his belt. This and his pistol were under +his coat. But he could not reach them. He lay panting with his +exertions. + +One of the warriors seemed to have authority, for his arms alone of +all the group were sheathed with copper circlets, and the others +obeyed his orders. Jerry addressed himself to this one. He knew the +words were unintelligible, but he pleaded desperately for a chance. + +"Take this off," he said. "We are friendly--friends--friends!" He +struggled to keep himself from shouting, to keep his voice under +control. "The other man," he said, "bring him back." And again he +repeated: "We are friends." + +He scanned his captors' faces. + + * * * * * + +The pasty face above him was impassive; the eyes stared +uncomprehendingly into his. Then the figure barked an order. One of +the warriors swung Jerry lightly to his shoulder, and started toward +the pit. + +At its edge was a basket, a huge affair of knotted fiber ropes. Dimly, +Jerry saw other baskets standing about: they were filled with the +fragments of fungus. Still bound, he was placed in the empty +container. Hands grasped the meshes, and he was swung out over the +edge. A rope was above him: he was lowered steadily into the dark +shaft. + +Jerry breathed a sigh of relief. This was not death--not yet. And +Winslow? Safe, perhaps, for he had traveled this same road. + +There was figures outlined above against the circle of light, figures +that clambered like apes down swaying ropes. The light glinted and +sparkled from their shining armor. His escort was still with him. + +The circle of light changed to a glowing ring, where only the rim was +lighted. Above was the deep black of the lunar sky. Then the circle +faded to a mere point as he went down into the pit. + +The rope basket came to rest upon a rock floor, and Jerry was lifted +out. He saw plainly the figures about him, and he wondered vaguely at +the light that came from the walls of the cavern. There were long +lines of soft light, leading off into the dark, lines that marked +plainly a labyrinth of passageways, leading in all directions. + + * * * * * + +Beyond a narrow entrance was one brighter than the rest, a broad +avenue that led downward still further into the depths. Here he was +carried. He tried vainly to keep some mental map of their course. He +would return some day--he _must_ return--he and Winslow. They would +escape.... But the passage turned and twisted; there were many +branching corridors, each with its lines of light. Jerry gave up the +attempt. It was a maze of serpentine streets beyond his power to +remember and recall. + +Before him the passage was still wider. It was opening into a great +room.... Jerry found himself upon the floor. He strained cruelly at +the cords about his head as he twisted and turned to get a view of his +surroundings. + +The room was a cave, its vast vaulted ceiling sprung high above a +level floor, where the figures of men--odd, plaster-white figures like +animated statues--were small in the distance. His eyes were drawn +quickly to the brilliant glow of the farther wall. There was the +bright black of basaltic formation, and in it--though he knew the +impossibility--was shining the sun. + +Jerry blinked his eyes to look again and again; the golden circle was +dazzling. It was set at a point well above the smooth floor, and up to +it there led a sloping pathway of gold. It was as if they had indeed +captured their god, these worshipers of the sun, had captured and held +it for the adoration of the grovelling people. + +Jerry saw them upon the floor. The copper of the armored men gleamed +bright in the glow from beyond, as they abased themselves and crept +slowly toward the light. At each side of the dazzling orb was a +platform. There were figures upon it, seated figures, Jerry saw, even +at a distance, that were robed in vestments of the sun. Their forms +gleamed gold in the light. + + * * * * * + +The leader that Jerry had noted among his captors crept on in advance +of his men. From among the bright figures on the platform above one +rose to extend a glowing arm. He spoke, and the tones rolled +majestically back from the high vault above. The crawling man below +him stopped rigidly where he was. Another word from above, and he rose +slowly to his feet. He stood full in the glow of the captive sun, to +be outlined in black against the brilliance beyond. + +Haltingly he spoke. Then, seeming to gain confidence, he launched into +a torrent of words. He gestured and waved, and, to Foster, the sign +language was plain. He saw reenacted the surprise of the warriors upon +beholding these intruders; saw how they had spied out upon them, using +trunks and branches of the fungus as a screen; saw in pantomime their +own battle with the beasts, then the rush of the armed men to the +rescue. Again the net was thrown, and the gesturing figure turned to +point dramatically where Jerry lay bound, then pounded his armored +chest with unconcealed pride. + +He ceased to speak, and there was utter silence in the room as the +figure above crossed to stand before the golden sun. He too abased +himself before the sign of their god, then rose, to stand motionless, +listening.... + +For a breathless interval he waited before the oracle, then prostrated +himself again and returned to his place. + + * * * * * + +He repeated, it seemed, a command, congratulation, to judge by the +ecstasy of the figure below. The warrior turned once to throw himself +before the image of the sun; he repeated this again and yet again +before he crept back to his fellows. The group arose and rushed +swiftly toward the bound man. + +They brought him quickly into the presence. With scant ceremony Jerry +was unrolled from the net; he lay free and gasping upon the floor. The +men scurried like mad from out the pathway of light that shone down +from the false sun. Jerry rose to his feet; the brilliance before him +almost blinded, but he saw now whence it came. + +There was a hollow in the wall, a great parabola, deep and wide, and +it was lined throughout with beaten gold. In a straight path the light +was reflected from every point--every point but one for at the far +end, where the curved sides joined, was a circle of darkness. It +stared like an eye, evil, portentous. Jerry nerved himself for an +ordeal, unknown but imminent. The black eye glared at him unwinkingly. + +Before him was the pathway of light: it shone brilliantly down the +sloping ramp where a floor of bright gold led up to the sun god +itself. + +The figure on the dais raised its hand. Jerry heard the words come +from its lips and roll sonorously back from above. The figure waited +for an answer. + +Jerry's hands slipped beneath his coat to rest reassuringly upon his +weapons. He withdrew his hands empty and raised one toward the figure +above. + +"I do not understand your words," he said. "Your language is strange. +No doubt mine is as strange to you. I come as a visitor--I am +friendly." He held out both his hands, palms upward. + +"We have come, my friend and myself, on a friendly errand." He paused +to look vainly about for Winslow. "And you have received us as if we +were wild animals." + + * * * * * + +Jerry Foster, of San Francisco, U. S. A., was suddenly resentful of +their treatment. His words were meaningless, but his tones were not. +"You have tied us," he said, "bound us--dragged us before you. Is that +the way you receive your guests from another world?" + +The golden-clad figure stood in majestic silence while Jerry was +speaking. It waited a moment after his outburst, then crossed again to +bow low in the floodlight of gold. As before, it seemed listening to +words from the black heart of the strange sun, words quite +inaudible--soundless. He returned quickly and waved Jerry's attention +to the place of light. + +The sense of a presence there in the central blackness was strong upon +the waiting man. In that other life that now seemed so remote--his +life on earth--Jerry had once felt the threat of a concealed intruder +in the dark. He recalled it vividly now. The sensation was the same. + +But it was magnified. There was no denying the reality of a malign +something at the heart of that golden glow. The black center of it +vibrated with cold and venomous hate. It struck upon the waiting man +like a physical force. His head was swimming, his thoughts refused to +form. He was as if suspended in a great void, where all that was lay +deep in the center of that radiant orb. And it drew him irresistibly +on. + + * * * * * + +Like a dazed bird, held and stricken in the hypnotic gaze of a snake, +Jerry took one stiff, unconscious forward step. Another, and another. +He strove dumbly, helplessly, for realization--there was nothing in +the universe but the certain thing ahead. + +His foot was upon the golden incline leading to his doom, when that +buried something which marks a man--the spark of divinity which sets +him apart as one alone--reasserted itself. + +"I am," he heard his own voice shouting in strangled tones, "I am +Jerry Foster! I am I ... I am myself!" + +He awoke from his stupor with a shock that set every nerve-fiber +quivering. For long minutes he stood silent. Then, realizing his +victory and proving it to his own soul, he looked straight into the +black center of the threatening sun god, and he laughed, loudly and +contemptuously. Then, turning, and with steady stride, he walked +calmly from the light. + +The great hall was silent with a silence that was breathless. Then +pandemonium broke lose. The priests and the god had been defied, and +screaming and shouts rang throughout the vast chamber to re-echo +batteringly from ceiling and walls. There was tumult and confusion +where the populace thronged. Even the figures above on the dais were +milling about in disorder; the rippling gold of their robes made a +spectacle that forced Jerry's involuntary admiration. + +Then one from among them sprang forward. His voice roared above the +shattering din. The room was still. Another order, and the guard of +armed fighting men formed in a circle about the defier of their god. + +Jerry waited. Trouble was about due, he told himself. One hand was on +his pistol, tense and ready. As the ranks stood silent and made no +move to attack, Jerry Foster did a curious thing. + + * * * * * + +It was not done intentionally, but Jerry Foster had nerves, and they +had been under a strain. His hand went unconsciously to his pocket and +extracted a cigarette. There were matches there, too, and he struck +one and lighted the white cylinder. The match made a tiny flame where +he flipped it. + +The whole room whispered and hissed with one loud gasp of amazement, +but the moan that followed, that echoed and resounded from the roof, +was of nothing but horror. Even the warriors drew back in trembling +dismay. And before them the stranger they had brought to the very +portal of their sanctum of holies blew clouds of white smoke that +eddied and whirled as they rose round his head. + +The effect was not lost upon Jerry. And his mind was working. Was fire +unknown to these strange beings? Here in the deep caverns, far from +the surface, was fire a thing of terror to them? He looked back toward +the wall. + +"If they rush me," he thought, "there's a good place to be. That will +feel mighty comfortable at my back." + +He walked slowly, the smoke rising thick about his head. The +copper-clad figures before him withdrew, the ranks parting to let him +through. Unharmed he reached the safety of the wall. The enemy now +formed a semi-circle before him. + +The inertia of the stricken beings on the platform was broken by his +move. Again their head priest gave an order; from another side a +second detachment of armed men came on. They were carrying something. +Jerry leaned forward in quivering preparedness as he saw, in the +floodlight of radiance, the body of Winslow lying on the floor. + + * * * * * + +Was he injured? Dead? The devastating loneliness that swept him at the +sight of the still body was unnerving. He breathed a long sigh of +relief as the lanky figure rose slowly to its feet. Winslow was alive! +They would show these beastly, unearthly humans something yet. + +There was no preparation--no preliminaries. Whether Winslow could have +reacted as Jerry had would never be known. He seemed stunned and +helpless, and it was with no resisting hesitation that he began the +climb to the unknown. + +Jerry's crouching tenseness snapped. No thought of the gun as he +sprang toward the enemy between him and his friend. "No, Winslow--no!" +he shouted as he leaped at the figures in front of him. + +Their strength had seemed startling to Jerry when they had carried him +like a child. He had forgotten his lightness here on this unheavy +world. And he had forgotten his own great strength. + +No panting, exhausted, beaten fighter of beasts was this that hurled +himself against the ranks before him. One coppery sword flashed upward +above his head. Its bearer was seized in two hands that picked him +bodily from the floor and crashed him, a living projectile, among the +others. Jerry waited for no more. There was an opening ahead, and +beyond was Winslow, walking stiffly, certainly, up that damnable +slope. He threw himself in giant leaps across the floor. + +His companion was half-way up the glittering ramp when Jerry seized +him. Holding him in his arms, he leaped outward, to land rolling on +the floor. He was on his feet in an instant. He dragged Winslow to a +standing posture. + +"Wake up, man," he was shouting. "Winslow--wake up!" + + * * * * * + +The onrushing horde was upon them while the tall man was still +brushing his hand over weary eyes, and Jerry, for the moment, had the +fighting to himself. + +No time for anything but parry and strike. He caught one white face on +the jaw; the man went bodily through the air. Jerry landed again and +again. His weapons were his fists, and they did fearful execution. And +he knew, at length, that he was not alone. + +The long arms of the inventor tore a sword from an upraised hand. Its +owner was thrown, as Jerry had thrown one previously, to catapult +among its fellows. + +They were clear for an instant. "Back to the wall!" shouted Jerry. He +had time and room to reach for his pistol, and drew it quickly from +its holster. They backed hastily to the protection of the stone wall. +There were scores upon scores of copper-clad figures that followed +them held out of reach. With a flashing of gold, the head priest +himself sprang to urge on his men. + +"Ready!" said Jerry. "I wish you had a gun! Here! Take this!" He +handed his companion a long-bladed knife, then turned to aim his +pistol with steady hand at the oncoming figure in golden robes. + +The priest stopped for a brief scrutiny of this new menace, then +screamed out an order and hurled himself into the sheltering press of +men. + +Jerry fired into the whirl of bodies. The roar of the forty-five tore +like a battery of siege guns throughout the great room. But the +creatures before them were fighting now in an insane frenzy. Their +bodies pressed the two men to the wall. Jerry fired again, and the +fall of a limp, gold-robed body gave him a thrill of delight. + + * * * * * + +The inventor was holding a white body as a shield, while he thrust +past it incessantly with a red blade. There were huddled figures +before them that lay quiet or crept painfully away. The body of the +head priest was being carried off. + +The dark mouth of a passage had impressed itself upon Jerry; he +remembered it now. It offered a means of escape. + +"Off to your right," he said. "Work off to your right. There's a hole +in the wall--" + +They fought off the struggling eruption of bodies that drove at them. +Jerry was saving his ammunition, but once more he fired as a sword was +falling over Winslow's head. He drove strongly with his left and beat +at the white skulls with the butt of the gun gripped in his other +hand. + +The passage was suddenly behind them. One last stand against the +screaming, frothing faces, and they backed, panting, into the +sheltering dark. Jerry stopped and took Winslow by the arm. + +"Are you hurt?" he demanded. The inventor was too breathless for +reply. + +"Nothing much," he panted, after a moment. "One got me along the +cheek--you shot him just in time. How about you?" + +"O.K.," was the assurance. "But, man, I've been hammered!" + +"What a peach of a fight," he added. "But now what?" + +Winslow laughed mirthlessly in the dark. "This looks like a one-way +street," he said. "We can't go back. + +"Say," he demanded, with sudden, dim recollection. "I remember +something of a dream--a ghastly sort of thing. I was ... I was ... +where was I when you collared me? Where was I headed?" + +"For something too damnable for us to imagine," Jerry stated +emphatically. + +They were walking as rapidly as they dared through the dark passage. +There were high-pitched voices from the rear. From somewhere ahead +came the sound of running water. + +"Too damnable to imagine!" he repeated. "But we'll hunt the vile thing +out if we get a chance, and we'll slaughter--" + +The words ended in a startled exclamation as the ground fell beneath +their feet. They pitched headlong into nothingness-- + + * * * * * + +There was water in Jerry's face as he fell. A torrent engulfed him as +he struck into it, pouring in from a lower passageway to plunge +straight down the shaft. The roaring crash of water tore madly at his +body; his arm was shot through with stabbing pain as Winslow's falling +body was torn from his grasp. + +He was conscious only of his bursting lungs when he came to the +surface from the depths into which he plunged. With one arm he swam +weakly, the other trailing at his side, while he gulped greedily at +the air. + +A voice came hoarsely from a distance. "Foster," it called. +"Jerry--where are you, Jerry?" + +Ah, the good air in his lungs--he could swim more strongly now. He +managed to gasp an answer: "Here, Winslow, over here!" There was a +splashing in response to his voice. He heard it over the noise of the +waters he had been swept away from the cataract. + +A hand was upon him in the dark. "Hurt?" asked the welcome voice. "Can +you swim, Jerry?" + +"A little. One arm's working." + + * * * * * + +The hands fumbled over him quickly, and his good arm was drawn over +the other's back. "Hang on," Winslow told him. "I can swim. I'm half +fish." + +Jerry clung to the folds of the coat. He was light in the water, he +felt--riding high--and the man beside him was swimming with strong +strokes. He released his hold on the other as he felt strength ebbing +back into his body. + +"I can paddle," he said: "but stick around. Where are we going?" + +"In a circle, probably," was the reply, "though I'm trying to hold a +straight course. How big is this lake, I wonder?" + +They swam slowly, saving their strength, but it was a time that seemed +like endless hours before the answer to Winslow's question was found. +Jerry was fighting weakly, exhausted, and the hand supporting him was +failing when they felt sharp rocks against their dragging feet. The +hand that had held him still clung tightly to his shoulder as they +struggled upward and fell together where great rocks gave safety in +the darkness. In his arm the sharp pain had dwindled to numbness; +Jerry Foster asked only for sleep. + +There was light about him when he awoke. In his stupor he had found +again the surroundings he knew so well--the clash and clatter of a +distant city--the roaring traffic--signals, and glowing lights. He +came slowly back to unwelcome reality. The light was there, but it +shone in luminous lines along the wall to illumine the hateful +familiarity of the honeycombed rock that composed the moon. + + * * * * * + +It showed, too, a familiar figure, breathing heavily where it lay on +the far side of the small room. Winslow's face was pale in the dull +light, and his eyes were closed. He was on a thick pallet of soft +fibers and across his body a cloth was spread, shot through with gold +in strange designs. + +Jerry Foster threw aside a robe of the same material that covered him. +He stifled an involuntary word as a twinge of pain shot through his +arm, then crossed noiselessly to shake softly at the shoulder of the +sleeping man. Winslow, too, came slowly from his sleep of complete +exhaustion, but his eyes were clear when they opened. + +"Where are--" he began a question, but Jerry's hand was pressed +quickly against his lips. + +They stared slowly about. The room that held them was in the natural +rock, but whether hewn out by hands or a natural formation they could +not tell. The rock was rotten with perforations, through which air +flowed in a cool stream. + +Jerry came softly to his feet to feel cautiously of the glowing, +luminous mounds along the wall. They were spread upon a ledge. The +light was cold to his touch, the material like fine soil in his hands. + +"Fluorescent," whispered Winslow. "Calcium sulphide, possibly; I saw +them spreading it above ground in the sun. It absorbs light and gives +it off slowly." Jerry nodded; the source of the endless glowing lines +had been puzzling to him. + + * * * * * + +Their whispers ceased at a sound beyond a doorway. In the opening a +figure appeared, tall and erect, the figure of a girl. Her face was +white like the others of these whose lives were lived below the +surface, but there was a kindly softness in the eyes, a refinement and +intelligence of no low order, that contrasted with the cold eyes of +the warriors and the priests. Not beautiful, perhaps, by earth +standards, yet it required no straining of chivalry on Jerry's part to +find her human and lovely. + +In silence the men stood staring. Then Foster, with unconscious +gentleness, made a revealing gesture. This woman--this girl--had saved +them. He knew it without words, and he was wordless to reply. He +dropped swiftly to his knees and pressed a bit of the golden robe +against his lips. + +A flush of scarlet swept across the white face and receded. The hand +dropped from its startled poise and rested, gently, questioningly, on +the brown head bent before her. + +She murmured unintelligible words in a guarded voice as Jerry arose. +"Marahna," she said, and touched her breast lightly. "Marahna." Her +head was erect, the whole attitude imperious, commanding. She +questioned them with swift, liquid words. The men shook their heads in +utter incomprehension. + +Again she spoke, and again they shook their heads. Jerry felt foolish +and dumb. He took his turn at questioning, and this time, with a +trace of a smile, it was the girl's turn to shake her head. She had +mastered one sign at least. + +Pointing toward the great hall they knew was somewhere above, she +reenacted the scene there; she evidently knew what had transpired. And +now Jerry nodded in confirmation. That she approved of the part they +had played was evident. + + * * * * * + +Now she questioned whence they had come. She pointed down, and her +fluttering hands and graceful posture spoke eloquently. She showed +them more than a trace of fear, too, as she marked them coming from +the depths. Jerry shook his head in vehement denial. + +He pointed above, spread his hands wide, tried as best he could to +indicate vast distance beyond. She stared, wide-eyed, then in her turn +knelt as if before a god. + +"She thinks we have come down from the sun," Winslow surmised. "Well, +let it go at that." But Jerry Foster was embarrassed in the strange +role of a god; he raised the humbled, kneeling young woman to her +feet. + +He pointed to her gold-clad figure and repeated the name she had +given. "Marahna," he said. "Marahna!" Then, placing his hand on his +companion, he repeated: "Winslow--Winslow!" And, pointing to himself, +he completed the introduction with: "Foster, Jerry--Jerry Foster!" + +The pale lips formed themselves slowly to the strange and unaccustomed +sounds. + +"Cherrie," she repeated, and smiled in comprehension. "Cherrie." + +This was the first of many lessons, and it was amazing to both men how +rapidly they learned to get their thoughts across. In turn, they +learned to read the messages that the slim hands and graceful, +undulating body conveyed. Even words were linked one by one with their +indicated objects and meanings. + + * * * * * + +One syllable the girl used only in a hushed and awe-stricken tone. It +was "Oong" that she whispered, while her eyes filled with terror and +dread. And they knew this for the name of the horror that waited in +the black center of that unholy place where the pathway of light +ascended. It was later that they learned to read hatred as well as +sheer terror in the emotions that the word _Oong_ aroused. + +The first lesson ended in a soft exclamation from the girl. She +withdrew, to return in a moment with a beaker of hammered gold, filled +with cold water. In her hands, too, were strange fruits and branches +of fungus. She ate bits of them to show they were food. And Jerry, as +he watched her, was aware that he was famished. But the two men ate +sparingly at first of the strange food. + +It was tasteless, they found, except for an elusive flavor, but the +reception of the food in their gnawing stomachs was satisfactory. +Their strength was returning, and with it came hope of release. The +moon-people, evidently, were not altogether villainous. + +"Thank you," said Jerry in a normal tone, "that was--" White fingers +trembled against his lips to enforce silence. + + * * * * * + +The girl listened intently, then stole softly out into the corridor +from which she had come. She motioned the men to follow, and pointed +there in the dim light to a far room. + +There were others, they saw; a group of young women lying at ease on +their pallets, or moving slowly about. The need for quiet was +apparent, more so when the figure of a man appeared as they watched. +Quickly the girl, Marahna, stepped before them and motioned them back +to their room. + +She followed and glanced quickly about. In the farther wall was an +opening, close to the floor, and low, but they managed to work their +way through at her silent command. A passage, much like the others, +lay beyond. It widened and grew higher, until they could stand erect. +Back in the circle of light they saw, for a moment, the man, bowing +low in respect before Marahna. He carried a basket of light that shone +brightly in the room. + +"Replenishing the supply of sulphide," whispered Winslow. + +A current of air came cool and refreshing from a branching tunnel in +the rock. There was no lack of ventilation, as they well knew, +throughout all the tortuous passages, but this came with a scent of +outdoors that set both men a-tingle with hope. Jerry forgot even the +dull ache in his arm as he breathed deep of this messenger from the +outside. + +But exploration must wait. They needed to rest, to learn and to plan. +They returned when Marahna called softly from the room. + + * * * * * + +Time had lost all its meaning. They could only guess at the hours that +had passed since the hour they left their ship, could only make +unanswered surmises as to where was the sun or how much was left of +the long lunar day. They must escape--they would escape--but their one +stroke for freedom must not be made when darkness and paralyzing cold +should force them back into the hands of the enemy tribes. + +Marahna was with them much of the time, and always they struggled and +strove with desperate concentration to grasp at the meanings of the +thoughts she tried to convey. And they learned much. + +Of the passage they believed they had found out to the surface, she +knew little. But she showed them, with doubt in her face, that there +was almost hopeless struggle along that path to the freedom above. +Sadly she touched Jerry's injured arm, and she shook her head in +dejection. + +The arm had had a bad wrench, Jerry found. No fracture, but the +muscles and ligaments had been painfully torn. But Jerry set his teeth +firm at the thought of a possible escape. + + * * * * * + +Once, peering along the dark passage that led to the room where the +others had been seen, the men noticed the deep bows that unfailingly +marked the entrance of Marahna. They questioned her and learned that +here was royalty among the people of the moon. This, as they +considered the proud poise of her head and her whole attitude of +unassuming superiority was not entirely surprising. But they marveled +the more at the truth that she finally made plain to them. + +Marahna, she told them, as plainly as if she were speaking in their +own tongue, Marahna was chosen for death. And her white face was +pitiful and her eyes full of horror as she enacted for them the slow +march she must take up the long golden slope and into the horror that +waited. + +"A sacrifice to that god!" Jerry spoke with dismay. "No, no!" But the +face of the Princess Marahna of the moon people was unutterably sad +with unspoken thoughts as she touched her breast with one slender +finger, then indicated the outer room and showed there were two there +beside herself who were to go. + +"Help us to get out," Jerry begged, and with fierce eagerness he +showed them going through the passage to the outside. "We will come +back, and we will find some way to end all this damnable thing." + +She gave them to understand the time that was left. The sun, she +showed, was long past the meridian and was on its return. The day was +now reaching a close. And then, as the sun set, the great sacrifice +would be made--had always been made--to insure the return of their +god. + + * * * * * + +Their watches were useless, for the water had entered their cases. The +two men waited what they judged was the length of a day, while Jerry +tried to believe that his arm was improving. Then, putting a small +supply of food in their pockets, they were ready for the attempt. + +Jerry saw that his gun and knife were ready at his belt, and patted a +pocket where his matches were safe in their watertight container. The +prospect of escape almost unnerved him. To breathe the clear air; to +stand in the radiant light of the sun--he could understand now how +these people made a god of the sun. He turned to Marahna. + +"Good-by," he said, "but not for long. We'll be back. And we'll save +you, Marahna, we'll save you. Winslow will figure some way to do +it.... We'll be back...." + +The girl was silent. She touched Jerry's arm, and shook her head +slowly, doubtfully. + +He reached for the hand. It trembled, he felt, in his. The impulse to +take the slim form within his arms, to hold her close, was strong upon +him. Would he ever see her again ... would he? + +"Won't you say good-by, Marahna?" he asked. + +But she smiled, instead--a friendly smile, and encouraging. Then +dropped in silence to her knees to press with both her trembling hands +his hand upon her forehead. And, still in silence, she rose to vanish +from the room. + +The men entered the narrow opening to start forward into the dark. But +Jerry Foster was puzzled, puzzled and more than a trifle hurt. Marahna +could at least have said good-by. She knew the word, for he had taught +it to her. And she had let him--them--go.... + +"Oh, well," he thought, "how can I know how a princess feels--a +princess of the moon? And why should I care--why should she? But...." +He refused to complete the thought. He hurried instead, as best he +could, to follow Winslow, fumbling ahead of him in the dark. + + * * * * * + +Jerry had used plenty of muttered invective with the massage he had +given his arm, but he cursed his handicap wholeheartedly at the end of +some several hours. + +They were standing, he and Winslow, in a dark tunnel. They had climbed +and clawed their way through the absolute dark, over broken fragments, +through narrow apertures, down and up, and up again through a +tortuous, winding course. And now they had reached the end. They had +found the source of the fresh air, had come within reaching distance, +it seemed, of sunlight and all that their freedom might mean. And they +had come, too, to a precipitous rock wall. + +They stared long and hopelessly at the shaft that reached, vertical +and sheer, high, high over their heads. And a curse like that of +Tantalus was theirs. For, far at the top, slanting in through some +off-shooting passage, there was sunlight. It was unmistakable in its +clear glare, beautiful, glorious--and unattainable. + +There were roughnesses in the wall, footholds, handholds here and +there. "It might be ... it might be...." Jerry tried to believe, but +the ache in his arm made the thought hopeless and incomplete. He +turned to his companion. + +"I believe you can do it," he said steadily. + + * * * * * + +Winslow's dark eyes were gleaming in the dimness that surrounded. +"Possibly," he replied, and eyed the ascent with an appraising stare. +"Even probably. But you know damn well, Foster, that I'm not going to +try." + +"Don't be an ass." Jerry's tone was harsh, but the tall man must have +known what emotions lay underneath. + +"We'll play it out together," he said. + +Jerry was silent as he reached in the darkness for Winslow's hand. + +"Of course I knew you were that sort," he said. He waited a moment, +then added: "But you're going, old man, you're going. Don't you see +it's our only hope?" + +Winslow shook his head emphatically. Jerry could see him in the dim +reflection from that radiance above. "Nothing doing," the calm voice +assured him. "Don't bother to think up more reasons why I should +desert." + +"Listen!" Jerry gripped roughly at the other's shoulder. "Listen to +reason. + +"If you go and I go back there, what will happen? With Marahna gone we +are helpless, and we will be helpless to save her. The long night is +ahead. How can we live? Where can we live? We will be wiped out as +sure as we're alive this minute. + +"If you go--and if you make it to the ship--there's a chance. Alone, I +may manage to stick it out." He knew he was lying, knew that the other +knew it too, but he went on determinedly. "You can wait for me up +above. My arm will be well--" Winslow stopped him with a gesture. + +"There's a chance," the older man was muttering, "there's a +chance...." He swung quickly toward Foster, to grab hard at the good +right hand. + +"I'm going," he stated. "I'm on my way. I won't say good-by; what's +the use--I'll be back soon!" + +He released his hold on Jerry to leap high in the air for a ledge of +projecting rock. He caught it and hung. His foot found a toehold and +he drew himself up to where another rough outcrop gave grip for his +hand. + +Jerry Foster stood frozen to throbbing stillness. Words were +strangling in his throat, an impulse, almost irresistible, to call. If +there were only a rope.... + +He was still silent when the tiny figure of his companion and friend +was lost in the heights, where it vanished into that tunnel from which +came the light. He turned blindly, to stumble back into the dark. + + * * * * * + +Marahna was waiting when he regained the safety of her room. "Safety!" +The thought was bitter when linked with the certain fate that lay +ahead. + +Silently she stroked the bent head of the man who dropped dejectedly +upon the hard stone floor. Her fingers were gentle, comforting, +despite the utter hopelessness and discouragement that lay heavily +upon him. + +They sat thus, nor counted the flying minutes, while the fog of +despair in the mind of the beaten man was clearing. He raised his head +finally to meet the look in the dark eyes. And he managed a smile, as +one can who has thought his way through to the bitter end and has +faced it. He patted the hand that had stroked his bowed head. + +"It's all right," he said gently. "What is to be, will be--and we +can't change it. And it's all right somehow." + +His sleeping, during their long stay, had been a cause for amusement +to Marahna, whose habits were tuned to the long days and nights on the +moon. And he was sleepy now, sleepy and tired. She spread the robe +over him as he rested on the soft fiber bed. + +He awoke from a deep sleep with a light heart. For Jerry Foster, as he +faced his own certain death, had seen certain things. It was the +end--that was one fact he couldn't evade. But he grinned cheerfully, +all by himself in that strange cheerless room, as he thought of what +else he had visioned. + +"And it will be just one hell of a fight," he said softly aloud. +"There will be some of those priests that will know they have been in +a war." + + * * * * * + +He examined again the knife and the automatic, and counted the +cartridges left in the magazine. There were more he had found in a +pocket of his coat, enough to replace those he had fired. He slipped +the pistol into its holster at the sound of soft footsteps +approaching. + +It was Marahna who entered, a strange and barbaric Marahna. She was +clad in a garment of spun gold that enveloped her tall figure. It +trailed in rippling beauty on the floor--draped in resplendence her +slim body, to end in soft folds about a head-dress that left Jerry +breathless. + +Her face was entirely concealed. The gold helmet covered her head. It +was tall, made entirely of hammered gold in which spirals of jewels +reflected their colors of glittering light. She was quite +unrecognizable in the weird magnificence. + +Only her voice identified the figure. She murmured chokingly some soft +words, then raised her head with its barbaric helmet proudly high as +she concluded. There were words become familiar now to Jerry. Together +with the spectacle she presented, her meaning was more than plain. + +"The time has come," she was telling him. "The sun ... the hour of +sacrifice." + +Jerry leaped to his feet. His plans for battle were being revised. An +idea--a plan, half-formed--was beating in his brain. + +A sound was beating upon him, too. There were drums that throbbed in +steady unison, that echoed hollowly along resounding walls, that +approached in loudly increasing cadence. + + * * * * * + +The plan was complete. "No!" said Jerry Foster, with a wild laugh. He +reached to remove the golden helmet. + +He placed it upon his own head, under the startled gaze of the +wondering girl. He reached out for the robe. + +"You shall not go," he told her. "I will go in your place. And when I +reach that room...." His eyes were savage behind the slits in the +golden head-dress. + +"No--no!" the girl protested. Her face showed plainly the complete +hopelessness of what Jerry proposed. To pit himself against that +antagonist--she knew how futile was the brave gesture. + +Jerry was undaunted. "I've got to die anyway," he tried to explain, +"and if I can get in one good crack at whatever is there--well, I may +be of help." + +His hand was taking off the cloak. Marahna's eyes were steady upon +him. She ceased to resist. She whipped one of the covers from the +couch about her and helped him with the golden robe. + +The throbbing of drums was hammering at Jerry's temples. They were +close at hand! Marahna, without a word, rushed frantically back toward +the room where the others waited. + +And again Jerry Foster felt that odd tightening of disappointment +about his heart. But what was the difference, he told himself, in a +hundred years--or a hundred minutes. He set his lips tight and walked +slowly out and down the passage. + +The room he entered was deathly quiet. There were figures standing +about, figures robed in their gold-threaded drapes, that stared +strangely, wonderingly, at him, and drew themselves into a huddled +group against the wall. And two there were, who stood apart: the other +victims--their sacrificial garments wrapped them round where they +waited for the third who was to accompany them. Jerry joined them as a +guard came in from the outer hall. + + * * * * * + +The drums were rolling softly in their rhythmic beat. The priests who +entered showed annoyance at the delay; they gave a curt order, and +motioned the three to follow. + +Outside, the corridor was broad, and the double rows of lights on +either side glowed brightly to illumine a pageant grotesque and +terrible in its barbaric splendor. The drums throbbed louder. Jerry +saw them in their fire of burnished metal, beaten by the bands of +naked men. Beyond, a group of warriors waited. Stalwart and strongly +muscled, they stood erect in copper armor beside a platform of metal +bars, whose floor was of latticed gold. The victims were placed upon +it to stand erect. Jerry balanced himself upon the golden floor as the +warriors raised it slowly to their shoulders. + +Priests, in robes of heavy golden rope, were ranged about; they formed +a guard and escort ten deep about the living sacrifice. At that the +drums increased their volume, and to this was added a nerve-racking, +discordant and rasping jangle, when sheets of copper, paper-thin, were +struck with a heavy hand. The pulsing, throbbing pandemonium was +terrific as the march began. + +Slowly they made their way through a winding gallery. Slowly they came +to where a portal, high-arched, gave entrance upon the great hall. +Solemnly, proudly, the priests lead the way as they circled the vast +room. Their wrappings of gold were a scintillant quiver of light; +above each hard face a circle of gold--symbol of the sun--was borne +imperiously high. + + * * * * * + +The priestly guard surrounded the platform where the three standing +figures were huddled. And behind, and on either side, the men with the +drums and the discordant, ringing sheets gave full force to their +blows. The high vault above thundered and roared to the thunder and +roar of the drums. And, high over all, a wailing began. + +The thin shrillness beat with the tempo of the drums in a pitch that +steadily descended. The glittering procession had come to rest at its +appointed place in the pathway, of light as the wailing came down to a +moan. "_Oong! Oong!_" the voices groaned, while the walls re-echoed +the despairing tones. Only from the band of warriors did the ear of +Jerry Foster detect anything but misery and despair. The priests were +silent, but the warriors, in their shining armor, stood erect and +roared out the syllables in exultant joy. + +The priests were now upon the dais--the rocky platform, divided by the +great, glowing parabola of light. They stood erect as a new high +priest, replacing the one Jerry had killed, crossed to bow and grovel +in the radiance from their god. + +The room was silent with the silence of a great tomb as the march of +death began. Softly, from the silence, the drums resumed the merest +whisper of their former thunderous booming. Beside him. Jerry heard +the soft sobs of a girl. One of the figures swayed and threatened to +fall as the platform was lowered to rest upon the floor. The other +pressed close to support the drooping figure. + + * * * * * + +Now the entire directed ray of light from the round, glowing hole +struck full upon them. It blinded and dazzled, yet, plain and +distinct, Jerry saw at its heart the circle of blackness, the eye of +the mysterious, hypnotic parabola--the entrance to what lay beyond. + +The beat of the drums was hypnotic. As if in a trance he saw, at the +side of the way they must go, the form of the head priest beckon them +on. The two victims at his side took one step on the path to their +death. And the same stiff rigidity held Jerry as he, too, moved onward +and up the golden ramp. + +The drums were bearing them on. Louder they throbbed in a steady +crescendo, to carry the three rigid figures a step at a time up the +pathway of light. + +The priest, Jerry felt more than saw, was beside them. Close ahead was +the blackness that held the set stare of his eyes. One of the golden +figures was before him. He saw the priest reach out to take the helmet +from her head. + +The movement aroused him from his numb horror. An impulse to escape +surged through him; every nerve was tense and ready for a spring. He +looked quickly about. The warriors were behind, the priests ready on +their platform to direct them. And in the doorway, from where he first +had seen this chamber, on the only way he knew that led to freedom, +another figure, tall in its priestly robes, blocked the passage. + + * * * * * + +Hopeless, he knew. And then there swept through him a wave of hate. Gone +was his horror, and gone the dull deadness of brain and body. There, facing +him, was the mouth of the pit, where waited a something--horrible, +rapacious--demanding the lives of these people ... of Marahna ... of +others--more and yet more. + +No thought now of life or escape. For the moment, Jerry Foster's whole +being held nothing but hot hate, and the wish for revenge. + +Before him the priest was stripping the robe from the girl at his +feet. She stood like a statue, a carving of purest alabaster, slim and +erect in her white, slender nakedness. And the face that he saw +through incredulous eyes was that of Marahna. + +Marahna! The realization and quick understanding held him spellbound. +She had come, had taken the robes from another poor victim ... to be +with him in this, the last hour.... + +Marahna--a princess among these strange folk--was giving her life when +another could have been in her place. And she smiled tremulously, +bravely, as her eyes locked with his, as, speechless and spellbound, +he stared through the eyelets of gold. + +The priest was reaching for his head-dress, Jerry tensed. The moment +had come. + + * * * * * + +He was ready. As the weight left his shoulders, he dropped, with one +swift movement, his golden disguise. The robe fell in folds at his +feet. He stared in silence, through narrowing eyes, at the face of the +head priest above him. Then, leaping straight up, he fastened one +hand, sinewy, sun-browned and strong, on the white neck below the +white face. They crashed back, to land on the ramp and roll, +struggling, toward the edge. + +Jerry's hold never slackened. He felt his fingers sink deep in the +flesh. He came to his knees, then up, to hold the writhing figure at +arm's length. Then, heaving with all his strength, he whipped the man +into the air, to drag him in one leaping bound for the sheltering +darkness beyond. + +A figure was entering with him--a slim, naked figure, with glowing and +worshipping eyes. + +Behind them the silence was shattered. Jerry saw, as he stepped from +the light, the riot of figures that surged in hysterical frenzy +through the great hall. The priests were leaping among them ... the +tall priest who had guarded the door was fighting his way through the +mob. + +Jerry loosed his quivering hand from the throat it held. He cast the +figure from him. And he blinked his eyes to make them serve him in the +blackness all about. + +Beside him, a form, invisible in the dark, was stroking at his face, +and a voice was whispering tremulously: "Cherrie ... Cherrie!" + + * * * * * + +The tumult in the great hall reached them but faintly. Jerry Foster +strove desperately to focus his eyes in that darkness of utter night. +A dim glow from the portal crept softly in to bring faint illumination +to the farther wall. Slowly his eyes found that which they feared yet +sought. + +Off in the dark, directly opposite the entrance, was a white and +ghostly thing. Formless and vague, it wavered and blurred to his +straining eyes. He fumbled clumsily for a match, one of his treasured +store. He must see--he must know what was waiting-- + +The match flared to a point of brilliance in the murky gloom. It +showed, on the floor where they stood, a litter of dried +vegetation--food, doubtless placed there as an offering. It was dry +now, and dusty, and through it there shone the bleak whiteness of +bones. Beyond was the floor, and beyond that.... The whiteness that +had been but a blur grew sharply distinct. + +Jerry could not have told what he expected the light to disclose. +Certainly it was not the heaping of coils, milk-white and ghastly, +that took shape before his staring eyes. Above them a head hung in +air. It was motionless--lifeless, almost--like the coiled body that +held it. But the eyes, black and staring, in the bloated, bulging +head, made its poised stillness the more deadly. + +Even in the dark Jerry had sensed the hypnotic spell of unseen eyes. +Visible, they held him in a rigid, unreasoning terror. Unreal, +unthinkable, this serpentlike horror, tremendous and ghastly in its +loathsome whiteness. A dweller in the dark, used by the priests as a +symbol and a threat for the ignorant folk who trusted and believed +them. And it held him, stilled and stricken, in its evil spell. + + * * * * * + +The flame was scorching Jerry's hand that nervelessly opened to +release the match. The man was like a statue, frozen to mental +deadness. About his feet a light was playing, unseen. A bit of the dry +stuff sprang brightly to yellow flame. Neither seeing nor feeling, the +figure of Jerry Foster stood, held in the deadly magic of the +malignant eyes. + +Dimly he sensed that the prostrate body on the floor was that of +Marahna. Vaguely he knew when the form of the priest took a halting +step forward. The fire his match had kindled was rising about his +feet. The flames seared and stabbed with a pain that reached his +dulled brain. Quivering and shaken, the body of Jerry Foster reacted +again to a conscious thought. He leaped quickly as the deadly witchery +left him, and he tore at the smoldering cloth about his legs. + +And now he knew the thing before him for what it was. Shocking in its +gigantic size, more so in the concentrated venom of its gaze, it was +the flabby, scaly and crusted whiteness of the thing that filled his +being with a deadly nausea. He stared with a sickened fascination at +the flabby, drooping pouches beside the mouth, the distorted, bulging +head and the short legs, armed with long, curving talons--legs that +sprang from out the neck to clutch and tear at what the jaws might +hold. + +Deadly and hateful--loathsome beyond all imagining--still Jerry Foster +found it was something a man could meet. Its devilish power to +paralyze and still the soul of him was gone. + +He snatched quickly for the gun at his belt and knelt to aim--then +checked his finger on the trigger. The figure of the priest had come +between him and the monster. + + * * * * * + +The golden robe was dragging. It fell to the floor, to gleam dully in +the flickering light of the fire. Against the heaping coils of white +the priest was outlined, drawn, as Jerry sensed, against the protest +of every fiber of his being. Yet, one stiff step at a time, he went +faltering on. The hair above his white face was torn in disarray. And +the face itself, so exultantly fierce in its hour of triumph, now a +mask of quivering, hopeless terror. + +The head of the monster came slowly to life. It raised and raised into +the air. The mouth gaped open with a hoarse, sucking sound, then +struck, like a whip of light, at the doomed priest. + +His screams, as the thing descended upon him, rang through the roar of +the forty-five. Jerry fired again where the black eyes showed above +the writhing body of their prey. The head jerked backward, to tower in +the darkness overhead. The mouth disgorged its contents to the floor. + +Only for a shuddering instant did the monster pause. Then it launched +its great bulk in a counter-attack, while the automatic poured out the +rest of its futile lead. + +The gun was knocked from his grasp as the great head smashed past, +swerved from its aim by the blinding bullets. Jerry knew only that his +knife was in his hand as the great scabrous coils closed +inevitably about him. + +Vaguely he heard the shouting from behind as the writhing folds +engulfed him. He stabbed blindly at the scaly mass; again and again +his knife ripped slashingly at the abhorrence that drew him close. +Then his arm, too, was caught in the crushing loathsome embrace.... + + * * * * * + +He felt no pain--the pressure alone was insufferable. His head was +drawn back. Above him the horrible eyes glared into his--there was +blood dripping from the jaws.... + +He saw it in the brilliance of a light that flashed in blue heat +overhead. There came in his ears a vast roaring of sound, a great +heat-blast that scorched and burned at his face. The crushing pressure +was relaxed. He went reeling to the floor, as the great coils whirled +high into the air. + +He was stunned by the fall, his body inert and relaxed. But he knew +through it all that from somewhere above there was shrieking of +gas--blue, roaring fires--a flame that tore blastingly into a writhing +contortion beyond. + +The tall figure of a priest was bending over him, but it was the voice +of Winslow that was in his ears--a blessed, human voice--when he +awoke. + +"Thank God, I made it," the voice was saying, over and over. "Thank +God, I found the ship and got back here in time!" + +There was light within the cavern. The burning fungus was extinguished +by the smothering coils that had crashed upon it, but beyond was a +waving plume of yellow where a blue flame shot against a wall of rock. + +And Jerry, through the stress and riot of emotion that overwhelmed +him, laughed chokingly, wildly, at the words of his companion. + +"It is sodium," Winslow was saying in explanation, as he saw Jerry's +eyes resting on the light. "A hydrogen flame, but there's sodium in +the rocks that turns the flame yellow. I rigged up a flame-thrower of +hydrogen." + +"You would," Jerry gasped through hysterical laughter. "You would do +just that, and make your way back to this hell just to save me--you +damn fool inventor!" + + * * * * * + +He clung to Winslow, who was raising him to his feet. Marahna was +beside him, robed in the golden garment of the priest. She placed her +hands beside his face to turn him toward the further wall. The light +was fickle, but it showed him, as it rose and fell, the blackened, +swollen body of the monster, still writhing in its death struggle. And +beside it, blasted and charred, the head of the obscene sun god, +severed by the cutting, obliterating blast, lay flabby and black in a +silent heap. + +"Rather effective," said Winslow complacently, "though I didn't have +much to work with. Two small vials of my liquid and a hand generator +to furnish the current. A tubular strut from the frame of the ship +made the blow-pipe." + +"And these?" Jerry questioned, and pointed to the priest's vestments +that Winslow still wore. + +"Oh, it was all quiet up above," said the inventor, "and I came down +the rope. But there was one of them waiting at the bottom. He didn't +need these any more when I left, so I took them to help get about--" + +He stopped, to cross quickly and pick up the flame-thrower as the +flame died away. It roared as he worked at the mechanism, then +dwindled again. Its light, for an instant, was reflected in a liquid +on the floor. + +"Broken!" said Winslow in an anguished voice. "The vials are +gone--smashed! And I counted on this to hold off the mob, to get us +safely out...." + +He regarded the instrument with silent dismay. The blue flame, as he +held it, flickered and died. + +"Not so good!" said Jerry slowly. He stopped to retrieve the knife. +This, he reflected, was their sole weapon of defense. In the dim light +his eyes met with Winslow's in mutual comprehension of their plight. + + * * * * * + +There were caverns beyond, dark and forbidding. Did they lead to the +outer world? Or, instead, was it not probable that they went to some +deep, subterranean dens, from which this monster had learned to come +at the priests' summons? Jerry put from his mind all thought of escape +in that direction. + +"And Marahna, too," he told Winslow. "What will become of her?" + +The girl got the essence of the question. Fumbling for phrases that +they knew, she made them believe that she was safe. Her people, she +told them, would protect her. + +"Yes," Jerry agreed. "I guess that's right. She's a princess, you +know," he reminded Winslow, "and the great mass of the people look up +to her. Only the priests and warrior gangs will be opposed. But how +can we get through them?" + +The question was unanswered. + +"We've got to knock them cold some way," said the inventor. "Got to +give them a fright that will last till they let us get through. Once +at the big shaft where we came down, we can make our getaway. But how +to do it...." His voice died away in dismal thought. + +Jerry's eyes were casting about. The priest's robe? No, not good +enough. It had brought Winslow through, but it couldn't take them +back. Marahna? No help there: she had enough to do to protect herself +from the fury of the priests. + + * * * * * + +His eyes rested again on the steaming, blackened mass that still +showed the horrible features that had marked the head of the monster. +The sun god! There was an idea there. + +"Come!" he said to Winslow, and walked swiftly across to the severed +head. + +He had to steel his nerves before he could lay hands upon the vile +thing. The paws were still attached behind the head. He took a grip on +one and pulled. The great mass moved. + +"I don't get the idea," said Winslow. + +"Nor I," Jerry admitted, "but there's an idea here." His thoughts were +racing in the moment's silence. + +"I've got it," he shouted. "I've got it! If only I can make Marahna +understand!" He led the girl nearer to the door, where his signs +could be seen more plainly. + +"You," he told her, "go out there." He pointed to the place where the +priests had stood. "Tell your people"--he took the attitude of the +orator declaiming to his audience--"we have come here from the sun." +Again his signs were plain. Marahna nodded. This plainly was literal +truth to her. + +"Tell them," he continued earnestly, "we have saved them from this +thing. Tell them it was no sun god, but a monster that the priests had +kept. Monster!" he exclaimed, and pointed to the head and to the body +that still writhed and jerked spasmodically. "No god--no!" And again +the girl showed her understanding. Her eyes were glowing. + +"Then," said Jerry, indicating Winslow and himself, "we will take the +head that they have worshipped, and we'll drag it out and throw it to +the priests." His gestures were graphic. The girl nodded her head in +an ecstasy of comprehension. + +"And then," Jerry added softly for Winslow's hearing, "we'll beat it. +And, with luck, we'll make it safe." + +"There's a chance," said Winslow softly, "there's a chance--and that's +all we ask." + + * * * * * + +"It's up to you, Marahna," Jerry told her. His words were meaningless, +but the tone sufficed. She drew herself proudly erect, wrapped herself +closely in the robe of braided gold, and stepped firmly and fearlessly +through the portal and down toward the platform of the priests. + +The two men watched from the shadows. Beyond the outline of the +platform they saw the warrior clans, a phalanx of protecting bodies. +And beyond, drawn back in huddled consternation, were masses of +white-faced people--Marahna's people--who listened, now, in wondering +silence to their princess. + +Marahna made her way slowly to the platform's edge. Of all the +countless ones to have gone that road, she was the first ever to +return. She stood silent, while her eyes found their way scornfully +over the enemy below. Then looking beyond them, she began to speak. + +Her soft voice echoed liquidly throughout the room. She gestured, and +Jerry knew that she was giving them the message. + +From the priests there came once a hoarse, inarticulate growl of hate +and unbelief. She silenced them with her hand. She pointed to the +heavens, and she told them of the sun and of the two who were true +children of the sun, who had come to save them from their false god. + + * * * * * + +Her voice rose as she told her people in impassioned tones that which +she had seen. And she was shouting above the tumult of the priests and +pointing directly at them as she made the roof echo with the message: +"_Oong devah! Oong devah!_" + +"The god is dead," translated Jerry. "_Devah_ means death; she said +that of herself before we left. Come on!" he shouted, and laid-hold of +one great claw. "It's our turn now." + +Winslow was tugging at the other foot. Between them they dragged into +the light the obscene burden. Down the long ramp they took it and off +upon the platform of the priests, where Marahna waited. + +The priests, as Jerry's quick glance showed, were milling wildly +about. It seemed that a charge was soon to follow, but the commotion +ceased as the two men come upon the platform, hauling between them the +great scorched head of "Oong." The vast hall was without movement or +sound as they made their way out to the front. Jerry stood erect and +faced the crowd. + +He pointed, as had Marahna, toward the sun somewhere above those thick +masses of rock; he traced it in its course across the sky; he pointed +to Winslow and himself. And in loudest tones he roared throughout the +room his message. "Oong," he shouted, "_Oong devah!_" + +"I'll count three," he whispered in the utter silence. "Then let 'er +go!" + +Again he took a firm hold on the flabby paw. + +"One," he whispered, and swung his body with the word. "Two ... and +_three_!" + + * * * * * + +The men heaved mightily upon the gruesome horror. The head swung +ghastly in scorched whiteness into the air. The dead jaws fell open as +it crashed downward among the huddled, stricken priests. + +"This way!" commanded Winslow. He had been carefully appraising the +openings in the crowd. "And don't hurry! Remember, you're a god to +them--or something a darn sight worse." + +Heads proudly erect, the two strode firmly down the pathway of golden +light. The room was silent as the few they met fell back in cringing +fear. Slowly, interminably, the long triumphal march was made across +the rocky cavern of the moon. + +Not till they reached the portal did the silence break. The shrieks of +the priests and the clashing of copper were behind them, as they +vanished with steady steps from out the room. + +"Now run!" ordered Winslow. "Run as if the devils from hell were after +you--and I think they are!" The two tore madly down the corridor whose +double rows of brightness made possible their utmost speed. + +There was the narrowing of the passage--Jerry remembered it--where +they came out at the foot of the great shaft, the dead throat of the +volcano. Behind them the shrieks and clamor echoed close. A rope was +dangling from far up at the top. + +Jerry leaped for it before he recalled the condition of his arm. In +the excitement of the encounter he had forgotten that the arm was +still in no shape for a long hand-over-hand climb. + +"I can't make it," he said, and looked about quickly. There were +baskets of fungus growth, already dried from the heat of the mid-day +sun that had shone where it grew. He dragged one to the narrow part of +the tunnel. Winslow tugged at another and threw it up as a barricade. +A chalk-white figure in copper sheathing was clambering upon it as he +worked at another of the nets. + + * * * * * + +Jerry let go the fiber basket he was dragging and drew his knife as he +sprang to meet the assault. A sharp cutting edge was unknown to these +workers in copper. Jerry slipped under the raised bludgeoning copper +weapon to plunge the knife into a white throat. Then, without a look +at the body he helped Winslow, struggling with another load. + +They completed the barricade. A heap of fungus made a raised place +where Jerry leaped. Commanding the top of the pile that blocked the +choked throat of the passage, he was ready for the next figure that +leaped wildly up. + +It would take them a while, Jerry saw, to learn of this scintillant +death that struck at them from close quarters. His knife flashed again +and again as he took the men one at a time and let their limp bodies +roll back to the passage beyond. + + * * * * * + +The assault was checked when Jerry shouted to his companion. "Tie the +rope around me," he ordered, "up under my arms ... then you go on up. +When you get there pull up--and for the Lord's sake pull fast!" + +"Go on," he shouted. "I can hold them for a while--" He turned swiftly +to take a leaping body upon the red point of his knife. + +He felt the rope about him as he fought, knew by its twitching when +Winslow started the long climb, and prayed dumbly for strength to hold +his weak fortress till the other could hoist himself up to the top. + +He was fighting blindly as they came on in endless succession, the +figures of frenzied priests leaping grotesquely beyond. Only the +strategic position he had taken allowed him to turn the wild assault +again and again. They could only reach him by ones and twos, but the +end must come soon. There were priests tearing at the foot of the +barricade.... The cold winds that came down from above revived him, +but it helped the figures ripping at the fiber cords. The dry fungus +fragments whirled gaily away and down the passage in the wind. + +The wind! The draft was blowing from him, directly upon his attackers. +Jerry struggled and clinched with another that bounded beside him, and +knew as he fought that a weapon was at hand. His knife found the lower +edge of copper, and the figure screamed as he rolled it down the +slope. He slipped the knife into his left hand as he fumbled with his +right. + + * * * * * + +His precious matches! He struck one on the rock; it broke in his +trembling fingers. Another--there were so few left. He drew it with +infinite care on the surface of rock. The figures below tore in frenzy +at the weakening barricade, while yet others stood waiting at this +sign of some new form of magic. + +They shouted again, as they had when, those long days ago, he had +lighted a cigarette before their horrified gaze. Jerry shielded the +tiny blaze in his hand to bring it beneath a papery leaf beside him. + +The flame flashed and dwindled. He dared not drop back to set fire to +the base of the heap. But even in the exhaustion and strain of the +moment Jerry Foster still knew the value of the showman's tricks in +reaching the fears of these white-faced fighters. + +With grandiloquent gesture he raised another of the tindery fragments +and ignited it from the first. Another, and he had the beginning of a +fire. He lit another piece, and, when he had it blazing, dropped it +behind him and kept on with the show. + +A large piece became a flaming torch, and he waved it before him and +laughed to see the warriors cringe. A cloud of smoke was billowing +about him--he leaped to safety through a rising wall of flame. + +The rear slope of the barricade became a furnace; the wind behind him +swept the smoke clouds down the passage. He heard, and sank back +weakly on the ground as it came to him, the screaming riot where a mob +of terrified warriors fought and struck to turn the horde that +clamored behind them and pushed them on. The blast roared over the +heaped fuel and poured downward from the crest. The noise of the +retreat went silent in the distance. + + * * * * * + +Spent and exhausted, Jerry Foster lay panting upon the stone floor. +The breath of cold and life came down the long shaft from the crater. +Had Winslow gained the top? Was he equal to the climb? Jerry hardly +felt the jerking of the rope about his shoulders, but he knew as, in +frantic haste, it drew him scraping up the long side of the shaft. + +The biting cold above revived him, and again a scene of desolation was +spread before his eyes. Winslow fumbled with the knots and released +him from the rope. + +"Come on!" he shouted, and extended a helping hand as they leaped and +raced across the rocky floor. + +Jerry again was vividly, strongly alive as the cold winds swept him. +He leaped hugely through the whirling wisps of dried out +vegetation--the sun had stripped the surface of every living thing. +Again the rocky slopes rose naked in the rosy light of evening. The +sun was hidden below a distant range of jagged hills. The long night +was begun. + +"You're going the wrong way," Jerry shouted. "We left it over there." +He stopped to point where the sun had set. "See, that's where we +fought the beasts--" + +"Come on!" repeated Winslow. "Hurry! We mustn't lose out now. I flew +the ship over this way while I was up here before." + +A ridge of rock cut off the view where Winslow pointed. "Bully for +you!" Jerry shouted and turned to follow. They stopped as the slope +ahead, from its multitude of honeycomb caverns, erupted men. + + * * * * * + +The priests were ahead, and behind them swarmed their men. Vindictive +and revengeful, the wily enemy was fighting to the end. The two +stopped in consternation. + +"What's the use!" demanded Jerry. His voice was tired, utterly +hopeless. "And the ship's right over there...." + +"A million miles away," said Winslow slowly, "as far as we're +concerned." The army was sweeping down the long slope: they had found +their quarry. There were other figures, too, pouring from the throat +of the volcano--white, naked figures that swarmed in growing numbers +and rushed across upon them from the rear. + +"Trapped," said Jerry Foster savagely, "and we almost made it." He +rose wearily to his feet. "We'll take it standing." + +The armored warriors were approaching; in leaping triumph they raced +to be the first ones at the death. The shouts of the priests were +ringing encouragement in their ears. + + * * * * * + +But the leaders from the rear were nearer. One deep breath Jerry drew +as he turned to meet them. Then stared, astonished, as the figures +swept past. They streamed by in confusion. They were armed with rocks, +with clubs or copper metal--some even carried bars of gold above their +heads. They came in a great swarm that swept past and beyond them. And +they met, like an engulfing wave, the bounding figures of the men in +copper. Smothered and lost were the warriors in the horde that poured +increasingly on. + +The wave, before Jerry's eyes, swept on over the crest, while he still +stood in amazed unbelief at the battle that raged. + +It was Marahna who brought understanding. He turned to see her kneel +in sobbing, thankful abasement at his feet. + +Marahna! Her people! She had saved them! There was time needed for the +full force of the truth to banish the hopeless despair from his heart. +Then he stooped to raise the crouching figure with arms that were +suddenly strong. + + * * * * * + +The pale rose light of the departed sun above shone softly within a +rocky valley of the moon. It tipped the tall crags with lavender hues, +and it touched with soft gleaming reflections a blunted cylinder of +aluminum alloy. + +The valley was silent, save for the hushed whispers of wondering +thousands who peopled the enclosing hills, and the rushing roar from +the cylinder itself where the inventor was testing his machine. + +There were figures in priestly robes--scores of them--and they were +surrounded by a white throng that, silent and watchful, held them +captive. + +Beyond, in the open, where bare rock made a black rolling floor, there +were two who stood alone. The golden figure of a girl, and beside her, +Jerry Foster, in wordless indecision. + +Behind him was the ship. Its muffled thunder came softly to his +unheeding ears. He looked at the girl steadily, thoughtfully. + +Gone was all trace of her imperious dignity. The Princess Marahna was +now all woman. And Jerry, looking into her dark eyes, read plainly the +yearning and adoration in their depths. The Princess Marahna had +forgotten her deference to the god in her love for the man. The tale +was told in her flushed face, openly, unashamed. + +And his gray eyes were thoughtful and tender as he gazed into hers. He +was thinking, was Jerry Foster, of many things. And he was weighing +them carefully. His hand clasped and unclasped at something safely +hidden in his pocket. He had taken it from his pack; he had wanted +something for Marahna, something she would treasure. + + * * * * * + +And now she was offering him herself. He could take her with him, take +her to that far-off world that she never dreamed existed. He could +show her the things of that world, its wonders and beauties. He could +train her in its ways. He would watch over her, love her.... And she +would be miserable and heartsick for the sight of this awful +desolation. He knew it--he told himself it was the truth--and he hated +himself for the telling. + +The voice of Winslow aroused him. The inventor had come from his ship. +"We had better be starting," he said. + +The slim figure of the girl in her robe of pure gold trembled visibly. +She knew, it was plain, the import of the words. She spoke rapidly, +beseechingly, in her own tongue. The words were liquid music in the +air. Then, realizing their impotence, she resorted to her poor +vocabulary of their own strange sounds. + +"No!" she said, and shook her head vehemently. "No--no!" + +She motioned to wait, and she called loud and clear across the silence +to her own people. There was a stir about the priests. One in the +robes and head-dress of the high priest was brought forward, led by +two others of her men. They stopped a few steps from her and bowed +low. + +Again she called, and the leaders among the vast throng came, too, and +made their obeisance before her. + + * * * * * + +She turned then to Jerry. And now it was Marahna, Princess of the +Moon, who stood quiet and poised before him. The light, he saw, made +soft wavelets of radiance in her hair, and her eyes were still glowing +and tender. She stepped forward toward the priest. + +The helmet of the sun god was upon his head. It marked him, Jerry +knew, as the master of their world. True, they had bowed in +submission to that other master, whose vile head lay horrible and +harmless on the floor of the great hall--they had believed in the +commands the priests had pretended to receive from him--but this +emblem on the helmet marked the leader of the race, the master of this +world, for these simple folk. + +Marahna reached her slim hands and lifted the thing of gold. She +turned, and held it above the startled eyes of Jerry Foster, and she +placed it upon his head with all the dignity that became a queen. A +word from her, and the men before him dropped in humbleness to the +ground. The Princess Marahna was among them in honoring salutation to +their king. + +Jerry was beyond speech. Not so Winslow. "It looks to me," he said +dryly, "as if you were being offered the kingdom of the earth--I mean +the moon. Think it over, Jerry--think it over." + + * * * * * + +And Jerry Foster thought it over, deeply and soberly. He could rule +this people, he and Marahna, rule in peace and quiet and comfort. He +could bring them knowledge and wisdom of infinite help; he could make +their new civilization a measure of advancement for a whole race. He +could teach them, train them, instruct them. And he and Marahna--there +would be children who would be princes born--could be happy--for a +time. And then ... and then he would be old. Old and lonely for his +kind, hungering and longing for his own people. As Marahna would be on +earth, so would he be here.... + +His decision was formed. And with it he knew he must not hurt the +heart of Marahna. She loved him, Jerry Foster, the man. He must leave +her as Jerry Foster, the god, child of the sun. He stood suddenly to +his full height, and who shall say that for a moment the man did not +approach the stature of divinity--for he was wholly kind. + +He placed a hand upon the head of the kneeling girl before him. He +held her in her submissive pose, then, turning to the waiting men, he +spoke in measured tones. + +"I thank you," he said, and the words came from a full heart, "but my +place is not here. I leave with you one more worthy." + +Before their wondering gaze he removed the glowing circlet from his +head; he leaned to place it on the head of Marahna, humbled before +him. With strong hands he raised her to her feet. His look, so tender +yet reserved, was full of meaning. She followed his every sign. + + * * * * * + +He waved once toward the sun, hidden behind the distant hills: he +pointed again to Winslow and himself and to their shining ship: and +again he marked the going of the sun. His meaning was plain--these +children of the sun must return to their far-off home. + +He turned now to Marahna. In his hand was the object he had taken from +his pack. It was a treasured thing, this locket of platinum on its +thin and lacy chain; it had been his mother's, and he thought of her +now as he opened the clasp to show his own face framed within the +oval. His mother--she had worn this. And she would have approved, he +knew, of its disposal. + +Gravely he faced Marahna. He showed her the picture within the case, +then held it aloft where all might see. He closed it and taught her +the pressure that released the spring. Then, with gentle dignity that +made of the gesture a rite, he placed the chain about the neck of +Princess Marahna--Queen, now, of the People of the Moon. And he knew +that he gave into her keeping their only relic of a being from the +sun. It marked her beyond all future question with a symbol of +mastery. And it made of him a god. + +And even a queen may not aspire to such an one. + +It was well that Winslow's hand was there to guide him as he walked +with unseeing eyes toward the ship. + + * * * * * + +Time may lose at times all meaning and measure--moments become +timeless. It seemed ages to Jerry Foster when Winslow spoke in casual +tones. "I'm going straight up," he said, above the generator's roar. +"Then we'll swing around above the other side. We'll follow the +sun--make the full circle of the moon before we start." + +But Jerry neither thought nor heard. His eyes were close to a window +of thick glass. Below him was a shrinking, dwindling landscape, +wind-swept and desolate. + +There was a multitude of faces, turned worshipping toward the sky. On +one, who stood apart in tiny loneliness, his vision centered. He +watched and strained his aching eyes until the figure was no more. +Only the pale rose of a dying sun, and a torn, volcanic waste that +tugged strangely at his heart. + +"Yes," he answered mechanically, "yes, we'll go round with the sun ... +a couple of sun gods." + +He laughed strangely as he regarded his companion. + +If Winslow wondered at the weariness in the voice he made no sign. He +was busy with a rheostat that made thunderous roaring of the blast +behind their ship: that swung them in a sweeping arc through velvet +skies, away from the far side of the moon, to follow the path of the +setting sun--homeward bound. + + + + +_The Readers' Corner_ + +_A Meeting Place for Readers of_ + +Astounding Stories + +[Illustration:] + + +"_Second Better Than First_" + + Dear Editor: + + The second number of Astounding Stories is better than the + first. "Spawn of the Stars," by Charles Willard Diffin, was + the best story, closely followed by "Creatures of the + Light," by Sophie Wenzel Ellis and "The Beetle Horde," by + Victor Rousseau. I like stories of vibration as in "Mad + Music," and of acceleration, as in "The Thief of Time." I am + glad to see Harl Vincent in the pages of Astounding Stories. + I have read many good stories by him. Interplanetary stories + are my favorites, and the more you have of them the better. + + I wish that you would put Astounding Stories out twice a + month or put out a quarterly containing twice as much + reading material as the monthly. In this you could put one + book-length novel and a few shorter stories. + + Are you going to start a department containing the readers' + letters soon?--Jack R. Darrow, 4225 N. Spaulding Avenue, + Chicago, Ill. + + +_Size and Paper_ + + Dear Editor: + + I certainly am glad to see your magazine appear on the + newsstands. I also view with appreciation the fact that you + have such brilliant authors as Harl Vincent and Captain S. + P. Meek, U. S. A., on your list of contributors. Your + stories are of the very highest value in the line of Science + Fiction. However, I did not like "The Corpse on the + Grating." It did not have an inkling of scientific + background. I really am surprised it was published in a + Science Fiction magazine. Aside from the fact that the idea + of the story was merely a fantastical surmise I was very + favorably impressed with the author's style and his use of + the English language. + + Why don't you try for some more of the works of the other + well-known authors in this line of fiction? + + My main object in writing this letter was that I think you + rub the name of Science Fiction in the dust by printing it + on such paper and in such a small magazine. If you intend to + compete with your several contemporaries, you will almost + have to alter your size and quality of your paper. + + You might include a full page Illustration for each story + also, but, you will admit, that to combat these other + influential Science Fiction magazines, you will have to put + your magazine on a par materially with the others in your + line. + + I admire the type of stories which you publish and want to + see your magazine get ahead.--Warren Williams, 545 + Dorchester, Chicago, Illinois. + + +_They Will!_ + + Dear Editor: + + I am a monthly reader of your Astounding Stories and I am + greatly interested in them. + + The best story I have so far read is "Creatures of the + Light." It is a story of Super-science indeed. If the author + of this story would write more like it, I am sure they would + be greatly appreciated. + + Here is hoping that more of their kind appear in the very + near future. Yours for more good stories.--Quenton Stockman, + 245 Dixon Street, Portland, Oregon. + + +"_Surpasses the First_" + + Dear Editor: + + I have just finished the February issue of your magazine. It + surpasses the first issue by far. I am glad to see that you + have eight stories in this issue. That is just enough. I + like one serial (not too long), one or two novelettes, and + five or six short stories in each issue. Tell Captain S. P. + Meek to write more adventures of Dr. Bird. + + I have arranged the stories of the first two issues + according to my own liking. Excellent: "The Beetle Horde" + and "Phantoms of Reality." Good: "The Care of Horror," + "Tanks" and "Invisible Death." Fair: "The Stolen Mind" and + "Compensation." + + In the second issue: Excellent: "Creatures of the Light," + "Old Crompton's Secret," "The Beetle Horde" and "Spawn of + the Stars." Good: "The Thief of Time" and "Mad Music." Fair: + "The Corpse on the Grating" and "Into Space." + + I hope there will be more stories under "Excellent" next + month--Ward Elmore, 2012 Avenue J, Ft. Madison, Ia. + + +"_Only One Trouble_--" + + Dear Editor: + + I have just finished reading your new magazine and think + it's great. The only trouble with it is that it doesn't have + enough stories. + + I liked "Phantoms of Reality," by Ray Cummings, best, and + "The Cave of Horror," by Capt. S. P. Meek, next best. "The + Beetle Horde," and "Tanks" were also good. + + Ray Cummings and S. P. Meek are among my favorite Science + Fiction authors. + + I like best interplanetary stories and stories of the + aircraft of the future. I would like to see a good + interplanetary story by R. H. Romans in this magazine pretty + soon. + + Other good authors whose stories I would like to read are: + Dr. David H Keller, Dr. Miles J. Breuer, Lilith Lorraine, Ed + Earl Repp and Walter Kateley. + + In your editorial you mention the fact that some day in the + future a person can disintegrate his body in New York and + reintegrate it in China. I would like to see a good story + about that by either Ray Cummings or S.P. Meek. + + Something else: why not make your magazine a little bigger + and include a scientific article or two once in a while?--J. + W. Latimer, 1000 East 8th Street, National City, Calif. + + +"_No Horror Stories_" + + Dear Editor: + + I am taking this opportunity to let you know what I think of + Astounding Stories. The worst fault is the tendency to print + terror stories. Please don't do this. If I never see another + story like "The Corpse on the Grating" in your magazine it + will be too soon. + + Don't print so many detective stories. Capt. Meek's splendid + stories are plenty. Please start a discussion column and put + Wesso's drawings inside the magazine, too. + + Are you planning on any reprints? I would like to see some + reprints of Ray Cummings', A. Merritt's, H. G. Wells', + Garret Smith's and George A. England's stories soon. + + "Phantoms of Reality," "The Beetle Horde," "The Cave of + Horror," "Into Space," "Creatures of the Light," and "Old + Crompton's Secret" were splendid. + + I hope for fewer detective stories and no horror + stories.--Joe Stone, 123 20th Street, Toledo, Ohio. + + +_We Liked It, Too!_ + + Dear Editor: + + Just a line to tell you that I bought my first copy of + Astounding Stories and they certainly are good, especially + "Creatures of the Light," by Sophie Wenzel Ellis. It's the + best short story I've read in ages. I hope to read more by + her in the future. Yours for success.--F. J. Michaslow, + Battery "D," Ft. Hancock, N. J. + + +"_Strikes a Mystic Chord_" + + Dear Editor: + + I think that your Astounding Story Magazine is a fine + magazine. It seems to strike a mystic cord within me and + makes me respond to it. + + One thing lacking--I believe, that is--a department for + letters from your readers. + + "Spawn of the Stars" is certainly a fine scientific story. + + I wish that the author of "Into Space" would write a sequel + to his story.--Ronald Bainbridge, Rockford, Illinois. + + +_We're Avoiding Reprints_ + + Dear Editor: + + I am writing again about Astounding Stories. It seems more + people are interested in science to-day than ever before, + and an easy and interesting way to gain this knowledge is + through reading an entertaining science story. + + Regarding stories in your February issue, will list them + according to my likes and dislikes. "Into Space" and "Mad + Music" contained science maybe not impossible in the future. + "Spawn of the Stars," "The Beetle Horde," "Creatures of the + Light," "The Thief of Time" and "Old Compton's Secret" were + very interesting science, and good reading, but "The Corpse + on the Grating" did not appeal to me. + + I like interplanetary stories and stories of what might be + on other planets. + + I notice some familiar names among your authors. Why not + print some (not too many) stories from H. G. Wells, E. R. + Burroughs and Jules Verne? Some of their stories which were + considered just wild dreams of the author at the time of + writing have actually become a reality, as, for instance, + the submarine. If you keep on as you started or improve I + can see only success--C. E. Anderson, 3504 Colfax Avenue + South, Minneapolis, Minn. + + +_A Few Favorites_ + + Dear Editor: + + I am an electrical engineer. I read the last two issues of + your magazine. I liked it very much. It is thrilling and + very well edited. I will buy it regularly. + + I liked "Invisible Death" best. "The Beetle Horde" was good, + "Phantoms of Reality," good. "Into Space" and "Mad Music," + very good. "Creatures of the Light," "Old Crompton's Secret" + and "Spawn of the Stars," good.--Adolph Wasserrogel, Gedden + Terrace, Waterbury, Conn. + + +"_Going Some!_" + + Dear Editor: + + I purchased one of your magazines when I first saw them. I + always had a liking for Super-science stories, but your + magazine was the best I ever got hold of. Thought I could + never wait until the next issue to finish "The Beetle + Horde." I believe "The Cave of Horror" was the best story in + that issue. It really seemed as if it could be true. + + Due respect must be paid the author of "The Corpse on the + Grating," for it was exciting and fantastic. "Phantoms of + Reality" was good. + + All the stories in the second magazine seemed as good as the + best of the first number, and that's going some. + + May you succeed in getting the same good and better stories + as you have in the first two issues of a magazine that I am + sure will grow to fame.--Harold Rakestraw, Box 25, Winthop, + Wash. + + +_We Intend To_ + + Dear Editor: + + Having read the first two issues of your new magazine, I + find it has a larger variety of stories than any of the + other Science Fiction magazines now found on the newsstands. + Why not keep it that way? It will be unique. + + Mr. Wessolowski, your artist, is great. He is one who can + draw when it comes to a good scientific background. + + I consider "Tanks" your best story as yet, with "Spawn of + the Stars" close second. "Invisible Death," "Creatures of + the Light" and "Mad Music" were also good. Try to give us + some stories by Edgar Rice Burroughs and A. Merritt. Did not + think much of "The Beetle Horde"--too many like it--Ted + Shatkowski, 812 Hoffman St., Hammond, Ind. + + +_Some Good Suggestions_ + + Dear Editor: + + I received the pleasure of purchasing a copy of Astounding + Stories the other day, the first copy I have seen. I have + not yet read it, but I am unable to wait that long to inform + you of my great joy in greeting a new magazine of this type. + + I am a reader of other magazines similar to A. S., Stories + of Harl Vincent, Capt. S. P. Meek, Murray Leinster, and + others appear in these magazines, also, so I am familiar + with your authors. + + But you have asked me what sort of stories I'd like to see + in A. S., so here goes. First of all, I would earnestly beg + you not to print such stories as those that deal with + ghosts, etc., because in my opinion there are far too many + good stories available to cast them aside for trash. + + The type of story I prefer is the kind that is fanciful, odd + and interesting. Some tales deal with a new invention of + some sort, but contain no action or plot. However, I fail to + see any like that in the present A. S., unless it's "Mad + Music." + + A few utterly impossible stories are so interestingly told + that it is worth while to publish them. Some examples are + stories by A. Merritt (whose stories are the most + fascinating I have ever read). H. P. Lovecraft (master of + the bizarre and the grotesque) and G. A. England. + + My letter seems to be mostly composed of suggestions, but + that is only because I am interested in anything pertaining + to stories of imagination, or Science Fiction, as it is + called. However, Astounding Stories seems to be very + satisfying to me. I am glad that you have Wessolowski on + your artist's staff. I hope that you will have a story + contest some time in the future, as they are very + interesting, and often uncover hitherto unknown talent in + the contestants. + + I sincerely wish you the utmost of success in Astounding + Stories and hope that it will live a long, enduring life. + + I hope, as time goes on, you will favor us with more + illustrations, for this type of story needs a large amount + of drawings so that the readers won't overwork their + imaginations. + + Astounding Stories seems to be very shy, for I heard of it + from a friend and got the February, 1930 issue only after an + exhaustive search. The place where I got it appears to be + about the only one in town selling it. I hope more stores + will handle your great magazine. (I didn't intend the words + "great magazine" to be sarcastic. I really think it's + great!) + + I hope you will have a department in which the readers may + discuss the merits or lacks of stories published. Or at + least print excerpts now and then. + + Enclosed find twenty cents in stamps for which please send + me the first issue.--A. W. Bernal, 1374 E. 32 Street, + Oakland, Calif. + + +"_Stories I Like Best_--" + + Dear Editor: + + The stories I like best in your Astounding Stories of + Super-science were "The Beetle Horde" by Victor Rousseau, + "The Cave of Horror," by Capt. S. P. Meek, "Compensation," + by C. V. Tench, "Invisible Death," by Anthony Pelcher. I + have just bought your second copy of Astounding Stories. I + like the book very much, and expect to buy it every + month--Issac Dworkowits, 1262 Valentine Avenue, Bronx, N. Y. + + +"_Just What Is Needed_" + + Dear Editor: + + I have read the first two copies of your new magazine and I + would like to make a few comments and criticisms. This + magazine is very popular in my community and is just what is + needed to instill scientific interest in the mind of the + general public. Science Fiction will arouse more interest + and will be read by more people than any amount of dry + science and cold facts. Since you would like to have a + reader's opinion, I will say that "The Beetle Horde" is the + best story that I have read in a long time and was based on + the most excellent science; "The Thief of Time" was good; + try to get some more stories by Capt. S. P. Meek; one in + every copy would not be too many. I could not get all "het + up" over "Spawn of the Stars," it was a little vague; I do + not think the author had a very distinct idea about the + nature of the invaders. + + The stories do not have to stick to cold science, but should + not violate an established fact without a reasonable + explanation, as this might cause a mistaken idea in the + minds of the readers. A few good authors are: Dr. Keller, A + Hyatt Verrill, Walter Kately and R. H. Romans.--Wayne Bray, + Campbell, Missouri. + + +"_Literature That Typifies New Age_" + + Dear Editor: + + As a member of an organization whose existence was founded + through the medium of Science Fiction, I have watched your + magazine closely, and here are the results: + + It is all Science Fiction, virile, interesting and new. + + A popular edition of these stories with the name of a great + publishing house behind it. + + The authors you have acquired are supreme in this field. Ray + Cummings and Captain Meek need no introduction. And Harl + Vincent is a notable addition whose stories of "Indefinite + Extension" and interplanetary travel are well known to + Science Fiction fans. + + Science Fiction, first introduced by Verne, Poe, Wells, + Haggard and other old masters in this line, is a type of + literature that typifies the new age to come--the age of + science. And, in conclusion, may I say that the Science + Correspondence Club extends to your new and most acceptable + publication heartiest wishes for continued and increasing + success. I subscribe myself to the advancement of science + and Science Fiction.--Walter P. Dennis, F. P. S., 4653 + Addison Street, Chicago, Ill. + + +"_Keep Up the Good Work_" + + Dear Editor: + + I have just completed the perusal of the first issue of + Astounding Stories and am immensely pleased. I am a high + school senior, and though have only a rudimentary knowledge + of science, the subject impresses me and I am eager to gain + new facts and food for thought. + + I compliment you on securing the services of such writers of + scientifiction as Ray Cummings, Harl Vincent, and R. F. + Starzl. They are good! Ray Cummings' impressive style, his + vivid imagination, and his knowledge of his subject seem to + me invincible. His stories are always welcome. + + Now, concerning the services of other writers of Science + Fiction, I think the majority of the readers would be well + pleased with the following list: Edgar Rice Burroughs, A. + Hyatt Verrill, H.G. Wells, David H. Keller, Otis Adelbert + Kline and Stanton Coblentz. The above mentioned, I am sure, + would greatly please your readers. I believe it would + greatly improve the circulation of your magazine to try to + secure the services of such writers (especially E. R. + Burroughs). + + I am greatly interested in the future of your magazine and + wish it every bit of luck in the world. You have made an + astounding start. Keep up the good work.--A. G. Jaweett, + Jr., 132 Murdock Avenue, Asheville, N.C. + + +"_The Readers' Corner_" + +All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "come +over in 'The Readers' Corner'" and join in our monthly discussion of +stories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities--everything +that's of common interest in connection with our Astounding Stories. + +Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, this +is a department primarily for _Readers_, and we want you to make full +use 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._ + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories of Super-Science, +June, 1930, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 29848.txt or 29848.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/4/29848/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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