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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories, February, 1931, 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, February, 1931
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30124]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES, FEBRUARY, 1931 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              ASTOUNDING
+
+                               STORIES
+
+                                 20¢
+
+
+              _On Sale the First Thursday of Each Month_
+
+
+                       W. M. CLAYTON, Publisher
+                         HARRY BATES, Editor
+                  DOUGLAS M. DOLD, Consulting Editor
+
+
+The Clayton Standard on a Magazine Guarantees
+
+    _That_ the stories therein are clean, interesting, vivid, by leading
+           writers of the day and purchased under conditions approved by
+           the Authors' League of America;
+
+    _That_ such magazines are manufactured in Union shops by American
+           workmen;
+
+    _That_ each newsdealer and agent is insured a fair profit;
+
+    _That_ an intelligent censorship guards their advertising pages.
+
+
+_The other Clayton magazines are:_
+
+ACE-HIGH MAGAZINE, RANCH ROMANCES, COWBOY STORIES, CLUES, FIVE-NOVELS
+MONTHLY, ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, RANGELAND LOVE STORY MAGAZINE,
+WESTERN ADVENTURES, and WESTERN LOVE STORIES.
+
+_More than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demand
+for Clayton Magazines._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VOL. V. No. 2            CONTENTS            FEBRUARY, 1931
+
+COVER DESIGN                    H. W. WESSO
+
+    _Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "The Tentacles from Below."_
+
+WEREWOLVES OF WAR               D. W. HALL                153
+
+    _The Story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of Capt. Lance's Heroic Part in
+     America's Last Mighty Battle with the United Slavs._
+
+THE TENTACLES FROM BELOW        ANTHONY GILMORE           172
+
+    _Down to Tremendous Ocean Depths Goes Commander Keith Wells in His
+     Blind Duel with the Marauding "Machine-Fish."_
+     (A Complete Novelette.)
+
+THE BLACK LAMP                  CAPTAIN S. P. MEEK        212
+
+    _Dr. Bird and His Friend Carnes Unravel Another Criminal Web of
+     Scientific Mystery._
+
+PHALANXES OF ATLANS             F. V. W. MASON            228
+
+    _Only in Dim Legends Did Mankind Remember Atlantis and the
+     Lost Tribes--Until Victor Nelson's Extraordinary Adventure
+     in the Unknown Arctic._ (Beginning a Two-Part Novel.)
+
+THE PIRATE PLANET               CHARLES W. DIFFIN         261
+
+    _From Earth and Sub-Venus Converge a Titanic Offensive of Justice
+     on the Unspeakable Man-Things of Torg._ (Conclusion.)
+
+THE READERS' CORNER             ALL OF US                 277
+
+    _A Meeting Place for Readers of_ ASTOUNDING STORIES.
+
+
+Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents) Yearly Subscription,
+$2.00
+
+Issued monthly by Readers' Guild, Inc., 80 Lafayette Street, New York,
+N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Francis P. Pace, 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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Werewolves of War
+
+_By D. W. Hall_
+
+[Illustration: _"Hay crosses the gulf, taking with him the cord which
+controls the electro-magnet."_ ]
+
+PART I
+
+[Sidenote: The story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of Capt. Lance's heroic
+part in America's last mighty battle with the United Slavs.]
+
+
+Trapped again!
+
+But this time, Lance swore, they'd not get away without paying dearly
+for it!
+
+Under the mesh of his gas-mask the lean lines of his jaw went taut.
+Tense, steely fingers flipped to the knobbed control instruments; the
+gleaming single-seater scout plane catapulted in a screaming
+somersault. Lance's ever-wary sixth sense told him the tongues of
+disintegrating flame had licked the plane's protected belly, and for
+the fact that it was protected he thanked again his stupendous luck.
+He pulled savagely at the squat control stick; the four Rahl-Diesels
+unleashed a torrent of power; and the slim scout rose like a comet,
+and hurtled, the altitude dial's nervous finger proclaimed, to ten
+thousand feet. Lance eased off the power, relaxed slightly, and
+glanced below.
+
+They'd started off a squadron of fifteen planes. Thirteen had crumpled
+beneath that treacherous, stabbing curtain of disintegrating flame.
+Only two of them were left--he and Praed.
+
+Praed, of course!
+
+The fellow's plane was pirouetting nearby. Lance was the squadron
+leader. He jammed his thin-lipped mouth close to the "mike" and
+rasped:
+
+"They trapped us again! There's some damn spy at our base. Stand by,
+Praed! They'll send up a few men to wipe us out, too ... and we're
+goin' to square the account!"
+
+He listened for Praed's answer. Presently it came.
+
+"I can't! They got two of my motors. I'm limping badly. We'd better
+beat it while we can."
+
+Lance's mouth curled. He roared:
+
+"Go on, then, beat it! But I'm goin' to take a couple of 'em, anyway."
+Disgusted, filled with red anger, he flung the phones from his head,
+watched Praed's plane whirl its stubby nose for home, settled himself
+alertly in the low, padded seat and concentrated his attention on the
+ground below.
+
+He'd been right. Tiny, gray-clad figures were pouring from their
+barracks, rushing madly towards the dozen or so planes neatly drawn up
+on the field. Lance's mouth twitched. They probably wondered, down
+there, why the devil he didn't beat it--like Praed! He stroked the
+lever which controlled his five gas bombs, centered his battery of
+incendiary-bullet machine-guns and ruthlessly shoved the control stick
+full over.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Rahl-Diesels pumped at full power; his plane plummetted downwards
+with the speed of light, a hurtling shell of steel. His unexpected
+move took the men below by surprise. Lance knew they needed at least
+ten minutes to prepare another salvo of disintegrating flame; he had
+about four minutes left.
+
+There was a restless, thudding chatter, and his bullets began to mow
+them down.
+
+Lance could see the horrified expressions of the men beneath, and
+chuckled grimly as they sought to escape the wrath of his hot guns. He
+flung bursts of spouting, acid-filled lead at the defenseless planes,
+and saw two of them collapse in shrouds of acrid white smoke. And
+still he dove.
+
+At a bare one hundred feet he tugged the control stick back, and the
+tiny scout groaned under the pull of her motors. Then her snout jolted
+upwards. Lance pounded the gas bomb lever, and smiled a tight smile as
+he sensed the five pills sloping down from their compartment in the
+scout's belly.
+
+A second later came a rolling, ear-numbing crash. Lance, safe at a
+perch of a few thousand feet, grinned as his narrowed eyes beheld the
+sticky curtain of death-crammed gas hug over the enemy base.
+
+"That'll quiet 'em for a few minutes!" he muttered savagely.
+
+A few minutes--but not more. And he had no more bombs; his ammunition
+belts were nearly depleted. "I guess," he murmured, "I'd better follow
+that quitter, Praed. I've paid 'em for the boys they got, anyway!"
+
+He levelled the plane out, threw a last glance at the carpet of gas he
+had laid, and spurred the purring Rahl-Diesels to their limit. His
+speed dial flashed round to five hundred, five-fifty--seventy--and
+finally rested, quivering, at the scout's full six hundred miles per
+hour.
+
+Under the streamlined plane's speeding body the gnarled, bomb-torn
+terrain of Nevada hurtled by. A rather sad frown creased Lance's
+prematurely old brow as he glimpsed it. Thousands of lives had been
+thrown into that ground; the hot, tumbled waste was doused with
+freely-sacrificed blood, the blood of whole regiments of America's
+heroic First Home Army. Martyred men! Lance couldn't help swearing to
+himself at the bitter thought of that terrible reckoning day. It was
+the price his country had paid for her continued ignoring of the
+festering peril overseas. Slaughtered like sheep, those glorious
+regiments had been! Helpless, almost, before the ultra-modern war
+weapons of the United Slav hordes, they'd stopped the numbingly quick
+advance merely by the weight of their bodies. Like little Belgium, in
+1914. They'd held the Slavs to California, ravished, war-desolated
+California.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The thin front-line trenches far behind, Lance began a slanting dive
+that raised his speed well over six hundred. Through the front
+magnifying mirror he spied the squat khaki buildings of his base.
+Werewolves of War, the batch of planes he belonged to had been
+christened, and it was a richly deserved title. In front of the front
+they fought, detailed to desperate, harrying missions, losing an
+average of ten men a day. The ordeal of gas and fire and acid bullets
+added five years to a man's brow overnight--if he served with the
+Werewolves of War.
+
+Lance was only twenty-four, but his hair was splotched with dead gray
+strands; his eyes were hard and weary; his face lined with new
+wrinkles. Ah, well, it was war--and a losing war, he had to admit,
+that they fought. If a miracle didn't come, America would crumble even
+as old Europe had, before the overwhelming Slavish troops.
+
+Even now, as Lance knew through various rumors, the Slavs were massed
+for a grand attack. And with what could America hold them back?
+
+His helicopter props spun, and the scout nestled down lightly on the
+tarmac. Lance switched off the faithful Rahl-Diesels, swung open the
+tiny door and leaped from the enclosed cockpit.
+
+"Sir," he rapped to thin, stern-browed Colonel Douglas, "there's no
+longer any doubt in my mind. This is the fifth time we've been
+anticipated--trapped! The enemy is informed directly of the attacking
+plans of our scout details. There's a spy at this base!" He lowered
+his eyes for a second and said in a queer tone of voice: "Thirteen of
+'em went down to-day."
+
+Colonel Douglas' tired face showed the never-ceasing strain he was
+under. He clasped hands behind his back, took a few nervous turns up
+and down the small office and finally, with a somewhat hopeless sigh,
+muttered:
+
+"I know, Lance, I know. The devils! They seem to be aware of
+everything we plan. Yet what can we do? Look at the territory our
+front lines cover! More than two thousand miles of loosely held
+ground. And we're so damnably organized, man! Look here!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He strode to the huge map which covered entirely one wall of the
+little room and ran his forefinger down the long red line, signifying
+the American front, which stretched crookedly from the Canadian border
+to the Gulf of California. Parallel to it was another line, of
+black--the United Slavs.
+
+"It's so damned easy," Colonel Douglas said, "for a spy to slip over."
+He sighed again. "I fought in the scrap of 1917 as a kid of twenty; it
+was different then. But this is 1938, and it's a scientific war we're
+trying to fight." He sat down in his swivel chair. "How--how did they
+wipe you out to-day?"
+
+"That blasted disintegrating flame again," Lance told him swiftly.
+"It's obvious, Colonel: how did the Slavs know we were going to raid
+that comparatively unimportant base of theirs at such and such a time?
+They had the flame shooters all ready for us--and at a place where
+they've never had them before! We came up at twenty-five thousand
+feet, dropped down in a full power dive, and"--he gestured
+widely--"biff! The flames caught us neatly at the regulation thousand
+feet. They got thirteen men. Only two got away, Praed and myself."
+His keen eyes were inquiring, and the colonel interpreted their look
+correctly.
+
+"Praed," he murmured. "Yes, I saw him come back, by himself. He said
+you were following. Two of his motors were shot. He seems to bear a
+charmed life, doesn't he?"
+
+Lance nodded. He didn't like to hint at the thought he had in mind. It
+seemed a cowardly, stab-in-the-back thing to do. Yet it was duty, and
+there was no questioning duty.
+
+"I've never seen Praed shoot down an enemy plane," he said slowly.
+"This is the fifth time we've been ambushed--and Praed's never been
+caught. Somehow, he's always seemed to be aware of what was coming."
+
+"You mean--?" the colonel questioned.
+
+Lance shook his head. "I don't want to commit myself, Colonel Douglas,
+but--I'm suggesting that we--well--keep our eyes peeled, and perhaps
+watch certain members of the outfit more closely."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Douglas rose as his orderly, Ranth, came into the room. "Find
+Lieutenant Praed for me," the colonel ordered crisply. Then, turning
+to Lance, he said: "You'd better knock off a few hours' sleep. You are
+worn out."
+
+Lance watched the orderly, Ranth, salute and leave. Ranth was heavy,
+thick-built, with closely set eyes. The young squadron leader was
+suddenly conscious that he was, as the colonel said, worn out; his
+limbs seemed leaden, his eyelids heavy. "I think you're right, sir,"
+he murmured, and walked out onto the field.
+
+Seeing Praed's machine drawn up with the overall-clad figure of a
+mechanic fussing at its motors, he wandered over to survey it. The
+scout was an exact replica of his, a model of the famous Goshawk type.
+It was all motor--everything being sacrificed to speed. On either side
+of the stubby brow of the fuselage, which held the death-dealing
+battery of three machine-guns, were set the four Rahl-Diesel motors,
+back to back. The pilot's tiny enclosed cockpit was thus surrounded by
+engines. In the V-shaped, smooth-lined wings were the two helicopter
+props; further back, inside the steel-sheathed, bullet-like fuselage,
+the radio outfit and fuel tanks. The craft's rounded belly covered the
+gas bomb compartment.
+
+The mechanic was a little cockney Englishman, a fugitive, like all his
+countrymen, from the horror which had stricken England suddenly and
+left her wallowing in her life blood. He looked up at Lance, and a
+smile broke forth on his wizened, sharp little face.
+
+"It's got me beat, sir," he said in his curious, twanging voice.
+"Lieutenant Praed, 'e sez to me, 'Somethin' wrong with two of me
+motors,' 'e sez. 'They quit on me quite sudden like. Look 'em over,
+will you?' 'e sez. So I been lookin' 'em over. But they ain't nothin'
+wrong with the bloody things, sir--nothin' at all!"
+
+"It does seem funny, doesn't it, Wells?" Lance said levelly. He'd
+known it all along. Praed was a quitter--a yellow-belly--besides
+being--But he stopped there. He had no definite proof. It was unjust
+to accuse a man of _that_ without definite, positive proof.
+
+The little mechanic muttered some mysterious cockney curse, and then
+said, in an admiring tone:
+
+"'Ow many of the swines' planes 'ave you shot down now, sir?"
+
+"About twenty, I think," Lance told him gruffly. The cockney shot his
+breath out with a whistle.
+
+"Cripes! You'll be up to that there Captain Hay soon if you keeps it
+up, sir!"
+
+Lance laughed. Hay, the almost legendary hero of the American Air
+Force--who had shot down, so latest rumors said, fifty Slav
+planes--was far above him. "I'll never reach Hay's record, Wells. I'll
+be doing pretty well if I bag half as many!" Then, seeing Ranth, the
+orderly, followed by Praed, he strode quickly away and came face to
+face with the latter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a moment the two men eyed each other, a taut silence between them.
+Praed's thin, sun-blackened countenance was immovable, masklike. His
+blue-green eyes met Lance's steadily. Finally Lance snorted and burst
+out:
+
+"Why the hell did you run away, Praed? Scared stiff?"
+
+Praed's low voice, devoid of all trace of emotion, asked: "What makes
+you think I was scared, Lance?"
+
+"You know damn well what makes me think it! That lousy crack about
+your motors being shot!"
+
+"Two of my motors were limping."
+
+Lance gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Ask Wells about that, why don't you?
+He's got a few ideas on the subject."
+
+Praed repeated: "Two of my motors were limping," and abruptly he
+turned away, leaving Lance fuming, and went into Colonel Douglas'
+office.
+
+What would Douglas say to him? Accuse him outright of his suspicions?
+Put him under arrest as a spy? But he couldn't do that: there was,
+after all, no proof. Lance swore to himself; then, feeling a wave of
+weariness surge over him, went to the shack he was quartered in,
+kicked off his battered boots, stripped away his Sam Browne, and flung
+his lean body out on the hard, gray-sheeted cot. Seconds later he was
+lost in the sleep that comes to the physically exhausted. The
+desperate situation America was in, the whole savage war--everything,
+faded from his mind.
+
+But to right and left of that cot stretched others--empty. The brave
+squadron Lance had led into the blue sky that morning now lay charred
+skeletons around the flame-throwers that had struck them down.
+
+And in a dozen other aircraft bases behind the hard pressed lines were
+other empty cots. Time and time again the Slav planes shot down two to
+the Americans' one; time and time again the treacherous
+disintegrating flames--the weapon which baffled America's
+scientists--had struck down whole squadrons that had been lured into
+traps, even as Lance's had been lured.
+
+And even the Slav forces pushed forward....
+
+
+PART II
+
+"You're wanted by Colonel Douglas, sir."
+
+Lance felt a hand jarring his shoulder; he turned sleepily over,
+yawned, and stared up into the dark, full-cheeked face of Ranth, the
+orderly.
+
+"Huh?"
+
+"Colonel Douglas wants you," repeated Ranth. "It's five o'clock, sir."
+
+Wearily Lance pulled on his boots and adjusted the military belt. The
+night was hot and sticky; somewhere, miles to the rear of the base,
+the batteries of long-distance guns were beginning their nightly
+serenade. Lance followed the orderly's broad, chunky back to the
+colonel's office.
+
+The colonel gazed up with tired eyes from the welter of maps on his
+desk.
+
+"Lance," he said, "I'm changing the routine of the night patrol. A
+fresh batch of youngsters came in this afternoon to fill the empty
+files; two dozen new planes arrived by transport, too. I'm sending ten
+of them over for the night patrol; Stephens will take your place. I've
+got another errand for you--and Praed."
+
+Lance was conscious that Ranth was standing quietly behind the
+colonel's chair. Douglas ordered him to attend to some errand and the
+orderly left.
+
+"I had an interview with Praed," the colonel went on. "I didn't
+exactly accuse him of anything definite, but I think I threw a bit of
+a scare into him. To-night we'll give him the acid test.
+
+"You and he will fly over to-night to investigate Hill 333. There have
+been rumors that the Slavs are massing there, and we want positive
+information. There's sure to be a fight. Watch Praed carefully. If he
+steers clear of any scrapping, well have enough to court-martial him
+on. Understand?"
+
+Lance nodded.
+
+"Right. It's a dangerous errand, Lance, but I'm confident you'll come
+through, as always. There's no one else who could handle the job. God,
+man, you're getting close to Hay's record! You'll be the top-notcher
+of the service soon!"
+
+The young man laughed briefly. "No danger of that. When do we take
+off, sir?"
+
+Douglas consulted his watch. "Seven-fifteen. Come and get the dope
+from these maps. Hill 333's rather difficult to find."
+
+"Anything been happening at the front, sir?"
+
+The colonel passed both fine-fingered hands over his lined face. He
+said quietly: "Yes. The Slavs took twenty-five miles from us down in
+the lower sector. Just wiped our boys out. Those damnable
+flame-throwers and bullet-proof tanks, supported by God knows how many
+hundreds of planes. It's hell, Lance! Headquarters thinks they're
+going to unleash a general attack all along the line in the next few
+days. And our resources--well, our back's against the wall. We're
+coming to death grips, man."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seven-fifteen....
+
+Lance pressed the starting button. His four motors choked, sputtered,
+then burst into a sweet, full-throated roar. He glanced over at
+Praed's plane, spun the small helicopter props over and pushed down
+the accelerator. The plane quivered, stuck its snout up and leaped
+like an arrow into the clean, darkening air. Lance gunned it to ten
+thousand feet, Praed following him neatly. Praed was a good pilot, no
+doubt about that. The two fighting machines hung for a second side by
+side; Lance eased off his helicopters and streaked away into the gloom
+at a breath-taking five hundred.
+
+"I hope," muttered Colonel Douglas as the two tiny scouts sped from
+sight, "that everything goes smoothly. They're the men to do it,
+anyway. No better pilots in the whole service."
+
+"Wot abaht that there Captain Hay, sir?" put in Wells, the mechanic,
+standing nearby. Colonel Douglas smiled.
+
+"Oh, of course!" he amended. "I'd forgotten Hay!"
+
+Once more they were anticipated! Lance, at thirty thousand feet--the
+Rahl-Diesels, with their perfected superchargers, were easily capable
+of a ceiling of sixty--had hovered above the position of Hill 333,
+pulled on his gas-mask and said through the microphone to Praed:
+
+"Power dive to three thousand feet. Release your flares and take in
+all you can before they send up planes. We'll take 'em by surprise,
+but there's bound to be a fight. Got it?"
+
+The steady reply came back: "Okay."
+
+Whereat Lance set his teeth in his customary fighting grin, jockied up
+his ammunition belts, glanced at the flare-parachutes folded alongside
+the cabin and plunged the scout in a dive that tipped six hundred and
+fifty miles and threatened to crack the speed dial.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But surprise? Nothing doing! Like angry hornets five Slav planes
+pounced on them at ten thousand feet. They'd been waiting there! Lance
+cursed savagely. He flung off his flares, Immelmanned up, and in less
+than two seconds had sent one Slav shrieking to the ground in flames.
+For the moment forgetting Praed, Lance followed after his flares,
+three Slavs attempting to sight their guns on the twisting, writhing,
+corkscrewing body of his Goshawk. He knew there were disintegrating
+flame-throwers below, but gambled on their not shooting because of the
+enemy scouts diving with him.
+
+Flattening out at perhaps a thousand feet, Lance threw a rapid stare
+at the bulk of Hill 333. He drew his breath in sharply.
+
+Lit dazzlingly by the bleaching white of the slow-floating flares,
+huge rows of the dreaded Slav tanks were clustered all around the
+hill!
+
+As he looked, ten more Slav planes came soaring up from the ground.
+This was too hot! The thought of Praed stabbed through Lance's
+whirling brain; he pulled the scout around, doubled over the three
+closing in on his tail, and belched lead for an instant at one he'd
+caught off guard. It collapsed like a punctured paper bag. Lance
+grinned and bounded to the upper regions. The two other Slavs let the
+crazy Yank go for the instant, joining forces with the ten brothers
+coming to help them out.
+
+Lance, again at ten thousand, looked for Praed. Far above, he glimpsed
+two planes, circling and diving. Praed seemed to be fighting, at any
+rate! As he watched, the two scouts catapulted still higher; became
+tiny, almost imperceptible dots, visible only in the reflected light
+of the flares. Then Lance felt a shaft of ice along his spine.
+
+The two planes had practically hugged each other for a second. Then
+one of them fell away, somersaulted, tumbled down wildly--out of
+control.
+
+It passed Lance like a falling rock.
+
+And it was Praed's scout!
+
+"My God!" muttered Lance. "He's been shot down!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next moment the twelve Slavs were on him like a hurricane. Motors
+roaring, Lance stood them off--flinging a burst of lead here, dropping
+out of range here, looping, catapulting, zooming--fazing them with
+every trick he knew. A dozen times he sensed the zinging wrath of
+storms of bullets, a dozen times he escaped death by the breadth of a
+hair. Not for nothing was he called one of the best pilots in the
+service, second only to Hay.
+
+He bagged another of the Slavs, and began to think of getting away.
+Praed had proved himself, but had been killed in doing so. He's got
+the dope on Hill 333. Now for the getaway.
+
+As he whirled, another Slav plane--the one that had got Praed--dove
+down from above. And, in the last second of the ghostly light of the
+flares, Lance's bewildered eyes saw the face of the man inside it.
+
+_That face was Praed's!_
+
+Praed, inside an enemy scout! Praed firing at him! Praed, not dead!
+
+Lance was dumbfounded. He almost died, just then, for he felt his
+senses stagger, and relaxed his maneuvering. Praed! What--how--He
+couldn't begin to reckon it out.
+
+If the flares hadn't died at that instant, Lance must have been shot
+down. Luckily, they expired; pitch darkness washed over everything.
+The lights on the Slav planes switched on, their prying beams
+fingering the sky for Lance's plane. But Lance was somewhat himself
+again. He jammed the accelerator down, dove headlong, flattened out
+and streaked for home. The speed of the Goshawk snatched him
+faithfully from the jaws of the Slavs. He left then milling behind.
+Left Praed with them!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Colonel Douglas was waiting for him. Lance's face must have been a
+study, for the elder man laughed shortly. "You need a drink!" he
+decided, and poured out a stiff tot of rum. Lance downed it with a
+nervous gulp and sprawled in a chair, the glass held weakly in
+quivering fingers.
+
+Dead silence brooded over the whole base. Even the muttering guns were
+still. One green-shaded light threw the maps on Douglas' desk into
+glaring prominence; besides that, there was no illumination anywhere
+in the 'drome. Lance knew he had a thumping headache and that his eyes
+were lumps of pain. The glass fell from his hand and crashed on the
+floor. It seemed to stir the young captain, for at last he looked up
+and met the colonel's inquiring gaze.
+
+"Well?" The colonel was terse.
+
+"I saw Praed shot down," Lance mumbled, as if to himself, "and then I
+saw him--"
+
+"Wait!" Douglas strode rapidly to the door which led to the other
+rooms of the building. After glancing to right and left, with an
+explanatory "Walls sometimes have ears, you know!" he locked the door
+carefully again, came back, and said:
+
+"Talk in a whisper! How about Hill 333?"
+
+"Tanks massed there," Lance said slowly. "Yeh, I saw that, all right.
+They must be intending an attack on that sector. But--but--Praed--"
+
+"What happened?"
+
+Lance told him of the scrap, how Praed's plane had apparently rubbed
+wings with a Slav and then tumbled down, out of control. He concluded:
+"I figured that Praed was all right, that he'd proved himself, that he
+wasn't a spy, as we'd thought. _But the next moment I saw him in the
+Slav plane that had bagged his!"_
+
+His wondering eyes sought the colonel's lean face. Lance expected to
+see it express amazement, incredulity. It didn't, though. He laughed!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+While Lance gaped, the older man went to the delicate machinery of the
+radiophone in one corner of the trim office. He clasped the earphones
+over his head, and spoke into the mike: "Headquarters, Air Force,
+Washington, Douglas, Base 5, speaking."
+
+A tense moment passed while his radio call was put through. Presently
+a green light flashed on the board. Douglas said swiftly:
+"Headquarters? Base 5, Colonel Douglas. Tanks massed around Hill 333;
+enemy evidently contemplates full attack on corresponding sector of
+our line. They know a scout of ours observed it, however; perhaps that
+will induce them to change their plans. This next is extremely
+important: _The first step of the Torpedo Plan has been successful!"_
+
+For awhile he listened intently, replying with short-clipped
+affirmatives. Then he hung the headphones up and turned to the
+bewildered Lance. Colonel Douglas laughed again and rubbed his hands
+exultantly.
+
+"What the hell--" Lance began. The other pulled out a drawer of his
+desk and took from it a small placard.
+
+"Do you recognize the photo?" he asked smilingly.
+
+Lance looked at it. It was the picture of a man in the uniform of a
+captain of the Air Force, a row of battle ribbons on his straight,
+khaki-clad chest. But it was the figure's face that Lance stared at.
+
+"Sure," he said finally. "It's a picture of Praed. But what--"
+
+"Not Praed," corrected the colonel. "Not Praed. Captain Basil Hay."
+
+
+PART III
+
+"Good Lord!" Lance exclaimed without knowing he did so. Praed--Hay!
+The same man! Then that was the secret; that explained things! Hay,
+the hero of the force!
+
+"You're entitled to a few explanations," Douglas said. "I'll give you
+the core of the whole scheme. There's no need to tell you that it must
+be guarded with your life." He drew his chair closer to Lance's.
+
+"Yes, it's true. The man you knew as Praed in reality is Captain Hay.
+You see, Lance, headquarters was taking no chances with what I just
+called the Torpedo Plan. Every move had to be conducted with the
+utmost secrecy. Had to be! For the Torpedo Plan is, in some ways,
+America's last hope.
+
+"Our base, No. 5, was chosen as the center of activity, the base from
+which the steps paving the way for the plan would be taken. The two
+best pilots in the service were needed. You and Hay were chosen.
+
+"It was decided it would be best to mask Hay's real identity. So,
+officially, he was sent to the hospital; in reality he came here,
+under the name of Praed. Why? Because there's a spy somewhere--we
+don't seem to be able to track him; he's infernally clever--and if the
+famous Captain Hay was switched to Base 5, putting the two best
+pilots in the service together, that spy'd know something was in the
+air. Understand?"
+
+Lance nodded dumbly. A great light was beginning to shower him.
+
+"To more completely mask our true purpose," the colonel continued,
+"Hay was instructed to make it appear as if he were a spy. And it was
+a damned hard job! The real spy, whoever he is, and wherever he is,
+would thus be additionally fooled; for all he'd know, the Slavs might
+have sent another over to back him up. That's why Hay never shot down
+an enemy plane. Says something about his skill as a pilot, doesn't it?
+Never able to defend himself, save by maneuvering. He's a great
+flyer!"
+
+Lance could only nod dumbly again.
+
+"After a couple of weeks at this base," Douglas went on, "Hay was to
+cross the lines one night with you accompanying him. You,
+unintentionally, would thus occupy the enemy planes while Hay attended
+to the real business of the evening. And you did splendidly!"
+
+"The real business?" Lance questioned. "What the devil was that? I
+thought the real business was to get the dope on Hill 333."
+
+"So it was--partially. But also to take the first step of the Torpedo
+Plan, which was for Hay to switch over to a Slav plane."
+
+_"What?"_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The colonel repeated his statement, somewhat dryly. Lance's square jaw
+dropped abruptly. "But--but--" he exclaimed, "how the devil could he
+do that?"
+
+Colonel Douglas grinned.
+
+"By a very neat contraption from the brain of one of our most valuable
+scientists," he explained. "Hay's scout was specially fitted up before
+you left; while you were sleeping, in fact. Two experts from
+Washington arrived with that batch of new recruits this afternoon. A
+tiny sliding door was cut in the fuselage of the scout and a sort of
+folding ladder put inside. It was motivated by some rather complex
+spring-work; but the really ingenious thing about it was the powerful
+electro-magnet at its base.
+
+"It's rather over my head," he smiled. "I'm a plain fighting man, and
+sometimes it seems that scientists and not fighting men are going to
+win this war.... But, at any rate, it worked like this:
+
+"Hay lures, or maneuvers, a Slav plane away from its fellows, and
+while you're down below entertaining the others, flies wing to wing
+with it. He touches the spring of his ladder and it shoots out,
+powerfully magnetized, and clamps onto the steel fuselage of the Slav.
+The automatic control keeps Hay's scout steady, and the ladder is so
+highly attractive that the Slav simply can't get away. Hay crosses the
+gulf, taking with him the cord which controls the electro-magnet. He
+forces his way into the Slav, shoots down its pilot, releases the pull
+of the magnet, and--there you are! Our best pilot in possession of a
+Slav plane, and clad in a Slav officer's uniform! Do you get the idea
+now?"
+
+Lance strove for appropriate words. "Gee!" he spluttered. "It's--it's
+wonderful! And to think I tried to start a fight with Hay! I wish I'd
+known before. But I suppose," he added, "it was best to let not even
+me in on it, to keep it absolutely secret."
+
+"Exactly!"
+
+"And now what's Hay's mission?" Lance asked eagerly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Colonel Douglas' face became sober. "A damnably dangerous one, and a
+mighty desperate one. As I said, the Torpedo Plan, which Hay is
+striving to carry out, seems to be America's last chance. We're
+holding the United Slavs, but only just. We simply can't break their
+line or make any headway against them; and when they do unleash their
+big push, there's nothing to stop them! So we're gambling everything
+on this slim hope.
+
+"American science," he continued, "has perfected a weapon which is
+called the 'flying torpedo.' It's a ghastly thing, too. Damn it, I
+actually feel sorry for the poor devils it bursts on! It's a sort of
+riposte to their disintegrating flame.
+
+"Picture a huge tanklike affair of steel, one hundred feet long.
+Picture a few dozen of them! Picture them crammed to overflowing with
+tons of glyco-scarzite, the most destructive explosive the mind of man
+has yet conceived. An explosive that can't be hurled in a shell and
+can't be dropped in a bomb from a plane. A pound or so of it, man,
+lays waste a square mile of anything! Even our scientists are a bit
+afraid of it. They've been trying to think up a way of unleashing it
+at the Slavs. And these flying torpedoes seem to be the answer.
+
+"The torpedoes are purely mechanical. Therefore, they can soar to any
+height whatsoever. Twenty, thirty, even forty miles. All right. Now,
+picture a dozen or so of these torpedoes soaring over the most
+important Slav bases and headquarters, thirty miles above the earth,
+at night, of course, and absolutely invisible to the most powerful
+search-rays. They fly without the slightest sounds. Get that? Well,
+when this squadron of awful death arrives at the exact point over the
+place to be demolished, the motive force switches off and down they
+crash. Imagine what will happen when they collide with the ground!"
+Douglas, with Lance's tense eyes on him, struck a clenched fist into
+an open palm.
+
+"Tons of glyco-scarzite, Lance! Unleashed, without warning, from miles
+above! Thirty of these torpedoes, each a hundred feet long, dropping
+down on the very heart of the Slav invasion! Killing, blowing to bits,
+rather, every living thing, every fortification, every tree, every
+tank, every gun, every flame thrower, every plane in a radius of
+hundreds of miles!"
+
+"God!" came from Lance's numb lips. "God!"
+
+"_But_"--and the colonel held up a straight forefinger--"these
+torpedoes must be guided from the place they raid!"
+
+Into the silence Lance whispered: "And that--that is Hay's job?"
+
+"That," Douglas confirmed levelly, "is Hay's job--and yours."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Their eyes met; held. And then Lance's clean young face smiled.
+
+"Thank God, sir," he cried, "that I'm to help strike the blow that'll
+free our country!"
+
+Colonel Douglas answered his smile with a smile. "Lance," he said,
+"it's because Washington has put this job into Hay's and your hands
+that I know--_I know_--it will succeed."
+
+"It will!"
+
+Douglas lowered his voice again. "This is why those flying torpedoes
+must be guided from the Slav's innermost base.
+
+"In the first place, they fly too high for an accompanying plane to
+guide them. In the second, the power that releases them to hurtle
+downwards must come from the enemy base itself, to permit of no
+possible error. This must not fail!"
+
+"But," put in Lance, "how do the torpedoes fly? What motivates them?"
+
+"A closely guarded secret, of course," he was told. "I merely possess
+a slight comprehension of it. I know that it is an adaptation of that
+discovery of Professor Singe, two years ago--cosmic attraction.
+Eventually, perhaps, it will permit interplanetary travel. This use of
+it is simply the beginning. But it is to America's everlasting glory
+that a scientist of hers developed it.
+
+"You know how a sliver of wood is propelled by the ripples of a pond?
+Vibrations of the water, really. Well, evidently there are somewhat
+similar vibrations in the ether, cosmic force. Each one of these
+flying torpedoes contains a highly expensive, intricate mechanism
+which transforms this invisible vibration-power into material
+propulsion. The mechanism is adjusted to propel the torpedo at such an
+altitude in such a direction. We possess no means of setting the
+machines to _stop_ at a certain place and so tumble earthwards. That's
+where you and Hay come in.
+
+"Hay is now, with forged documents, passing himself off as a regular
+Slav pilot. He speaks the tongue. Two nights from now, you, Lance,
+keep a rendezvous with Hay at an isolated ranch in the Lake Tahoe
+country--the Sola Ranch, where we staged that big fight a few months
+back."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lance nodded.
+
+"In your plane is an instrument which is the kernel of the scheme. It
+arrives here to-morrow. It's a device which shoots an invisible beam
+fifty miles into the air, a negative beam, in sympathy with the
+machinery on the torpedoes. Hay sets this device near the Slav
+headquarters. The torpedo squadron takes off from a few hundred miles
+behind here, flying in the direction of the heart of the Slav forces.
+When they run into the beam, their motive power is nullified, and down
+they fall. Crash! The Slavs are wiped out. Our troops charge forward
+in a grand attack; the Slavs, with no armament, no reinforcing troops,
+no supply of tanks and flame throwers, crumple. The invasion of
+America is put to an end!"
+
+Lance rose. His face was alight, his eyes burning with strong,
+unquenchable fire.
+
+"It's great, sir, great! It can't fail! By God, if it takes every last
+drop of my blood, I'll help Hay put this through!"
+
+Colonel Douglas extended his right hand and Lance's met it in a firm
+shake. In the thick silence they stood thus for some minutes. Then,
+without moving so much as a cheek muscle, the colonel whispered, his
+eyes tense:
+
+"_The door! Fling it open! I think someone's been listening!_"
+
+Lance switched his alarmed gaze to it. His muscles went taut. The next
+moment he had leaped half across the room, jammed back the lock, and
+ripped the door wide.
+
+At the other end of the dim passageway he glimpsed a scurrying figure!
+
+Lance sprang after it with a shout to Douglas. Tearing out his
+automatic, he flung a burst of lead at the figure, but that instant it
+wheeled and sped from sight down another passage. And when Lance got
+there, no one was in sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For awhile he probed around, desperately, but could find no sign of
+anything. The base slept. Sorely troubled, he returned to find the
+colonel just coming back from an equally barren search:
+
+"Don't think he heard much," said Douglas grimly. "It must have been
+that damned spy who's been getting information of our movements. I'll
+have the guards redoubled to prevent him from getting anything
+through." He smiled at sight of Lance's anxious face. "No need for too
+much worry, Lance! He couldn't have heard much--the walls are
+sound-proof and the door fairly tight. Now, you go and rip off some
+sleep! You need it! No more work for you till Wednesday night--you're
+too important!"
+
+Sleep! Lance only wished he could. But the thrill of what he'd just
+heard was too fresh, too new; the blood pumped surgingly through his
+veins; his brain whirled with the thought of the glorious enterprise
+he and Hay were aiding so vitally.
+
+Then, too, the night was humid and sweaty. For a while Lance lay on
+his cot, other sleeping figures to left and right of him, but his own
+eyes simply would not stay closed. Finally, after perhaps an hour of
+trying to doze off, he arose and, clad only in breeches and
+undershirt, wandered outside again with a cigarette glowing in his
+mouth.
+
+The war might not have been, the night was so silent. Lance strolled
+lazily around the plane hangars, revelling in what little breeze there
+was. He seemed to be the only living thing abroad in the night.
+
+Then, suddenly, he flung down his cigarette and ground the butt out
+quickly. For he saw he was not the only living thing abroad in the
+night. Sliding rapidly away from the end hangar was a dark form!
+
+Lance crouched instinctively and crept forward. Who was the other
+wanderer? Not a sentry: they paced a regular beat closer to Douglas'
+office. Not another, who, like himself, could not sleep and had sought
+the open. This figure was going somewhere! It had a definite object in
+mind!
+
+Sheltering himself behind the hangars' bulk, Lance advanced as
+stealthily as he could. Coming to the end one, he peered round its
+blunt corner. Fifty yards ahead, crossing a stubbly stretch of open
+ground, the mysterious prowler hurried onward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night was dark, the moon troubled by ragged bursts of listless,
+heavy clouds. Lance bent almost double and left the shelter of the
+black hangar. Feeling his way carefully, he followed the other.
+
+Was this the unknown spy? The spy, going to transmit the news he had
+overheard?
+
+Lance muttered a curse. He had no weapon with him; the spy, if he were
+a spy, would certainly be armed. But that didn't matter; it was merely
+unfortunate. He must track the other down, at all cost.
+
+For some minutes he crept on in this manner. The other kept hurrying
+forward. Lance noted a clump of brush far ahead; the figure was
+evidently making for this. And sure enough, as if acting directly on
+Lance's thought, the dark form entered the patch of growth--and did
+not come out on the other side.
+
+Lance broke into a trot, eyes wary and alert for sign of his prey. At
+any second he might be greeted by a salvo of bullets, and every fiber
+of his lean body was taut.
+
+As he approached the clump of brush he dropped to the ground, and came
+finally to it on his belly. From a distance of about ten feet, he rose
+and charged.
+
+Expecting each moment to hear the spit of a revolver, he was more
+alarmed by what actually did greet him.
+
+Nothing. The patch of brush was empty!
+
+"Well I'll be damned!" Lance murmured. "Where did he get to?"
+
+He gazed around, bewildered. The growth of bush was about ten feet
+wide. On either side the flat Nevada plain stretched away--empty. No
+figure was visible.
+
+Lance was utterly baffled. The fellow had vanished as if by magic.
+Flown away into thin air!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The young captain stood quite still, listening, probing his puzzled
+brain.
+
+Then, like a cat, he dropped to the ground again, and pressed an ear
+to it. For his ears had caught a tiny betraying hum.
+
+A hum! There was a machine of some type near him. He listened
+intently. The hum came from the ground on which he lay. There had to
+be a trap-door.
+
+Lance's fingers scrabbled around, and presently found what they looked
+for.
+
+He seized the ring which enabled one to pull the trap-door back, and
+was just about to pull when he heard, from below, a voice speaking in
+Russian. It was, then, the spy!
+
+Lance grasped the ring anew, and, exerting all his strength, hauled
+the trap-door back.
+
+A narrow passageway was revealed, lit by a lamp. The hum burst with
+doubled force on his ears. He plunged down, fists clenched, and half
+tumbled into a tiny room gouged from the soil.
+
+At one end was a mass of machinery, and a microphone hung suspended
+before it. And speaking into the microphone was the heavy-set form of
+a man in American uniform, his back to Lance. As the latter charged
+down, he rose with an alarmed shout, and wheeled around.
+
+"My God!" breathed Lance.
+
+It was Ranth, Colonel Douglas' orderly!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ranth!
+
+His dark face flushed with fury, he came leaping from his seat. The
+wicked little revolver hung at his belt sprang out, but Lance's right
+fist shot forward, knocked Ranth's hand high and sent the gun
+clattering to the ground. Then, for a moment, they faced each other,
+the hum of the radiophone droning an ominous accompaniment.
+
+"You!" Lance muttered. "So you were the spy!"
+
+Ranth answered him with a choked oath and leaped forward again.
+
+There were no niceties to that combat. It was a matter of life and
+death, and each knew it. Ranth would kill him, Lance knew, if he
+possibly could; and he, he had to kill or capture Ranth. Otherwise the
+news of the Torpedo Plan would go through, Ranth would return to the
+base, and the secret of the hidden radio never be known. Another would
+be put in Lance's place; and when Hay kept his rendezvous at Sola
+Ranch....
+
+He had to win.
+
+No effort was made at defense, for those first few furious minutes. A
+veritable fusillade of hurtling fists stormed through the air. They
+each gave and took equally. Then Ranth's heavy shoulders bunched;
+cunningly he feinted, then, whirling, swung a vicious right hand smash
+to Lance's chin.
+
+Lance reeled, fell, seeing Ranth's hate-contorted visage dance queerly
+in the close air before him. The orderly clutched for his revolver,
+and Lance bounded up as if spring-impelled, nailed the other with two
+lightninglike jabs and unleashed all his strength in an uppercut
+which sprawled Ranth in a limp, quivering heap.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Panting, Lance surveyed him, then turned to get the gun. He felt the
+shock of thudding flesh in his legs, and fell again with Ranth
+scrambling on top of him. Steel-ribbed hands pounced on his throat,
+gouged savagely, while the man above grunted thick curses from his
+slavering mouth. Lance struggled fiercely; saw a curtain of black rush
+down. Desperately he hooked a booted leg up, craned it over Ranth's
+back, tugged. The terrible fingers loosened. Lance shook them off,
+rolled the other over and leaped once more to his feet, right hand
+clenched and ready.
+
+Ranth staggered up. The young man measured him, pivoted, and smashed
+his beefy jaw with a clean swing that had every ounce of Lance's hard
+young body behind it.
+
+The orderly shot back as if struck by a locomotive. He crashed into
+the radiophone, splintered the delicate instruments and slumped, eyes
+glazed, to the ground.
+
+He was out. Dead out.
+
+But how much had he got through on the radiophone before being
+stopped?
+
+Had he told where the rendezvous, was to be? Told the time and place,
+and warned the Slavs to look for Hay?
+
+Lance sighed, and was conscious that his left eye was rapidly closing,
+that a lip was split and his whole body sore. He slung Ranth over his
+shoulders and trudged wearily back to the base.
+
+He told his story to Colonel Douglas' amazed ears. Ranth, come back to
+life, was slapped in handcuffs, and for some time the colonel put him
+through a stern inquisition.
+
+But his lips were sealed. He would not divulge how much he had
+succeeded in passing on to the Slavs.
+
+"A brave man," Douglas observed grimly when Ranth was carried off to
+the brig, "but it's death for him, the same as it would be death for
+Hay were he caught."
+
+"I don't think he had a chance to get much across, sir," Lance said.
+"I was right on him almost as soon as he got there. You won't let this
+cancel our rendezvous?"
+
+Douglas' thin lips smiled narrowly. "No. You'll be taking a greater
+chance, Lance, but we must gamble on how much the Slavs know. You're
+game, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wednesday night came. Thunderstorms muttered to each other on the
+lowering horizons; gusts of fierce, wind-driven rain slanted down on
+the dripping base; occasionally a crooked finger of lightning probed
+the black sky and lit the whole sopping countryside with a searing,
+flashing glare.
+
+The night patrol had taken off. A single plane, wet and gleaming under
+the sobbing heavens, stood on the tarmac, two heavily coated figures
+before it. Presently three more figures, carrying some bulky black
+object carefully between them, emerged from one of the buildings.
+Tenderly they placed this object in the lone plane, which had been
+stripped of radio outfit and gas bomb compartment to provide room.
+Then the two original figures were left alone once more before the
+fighting machine. Far to the rear, the heavy American guns barked in
+their regular nightly bombardment.
+
+"A good night for it," Colonel Douglas, scanning the sky, said, "and
+also a bad one. If only that damned lightning would stop!"
+
+Lance, pulling on thick gloves, did not reply. The colonel consulted
+his watch.
+
+"What time do you make it?" he asked.
+
+"Exactly eight," the other answered.
+
+"Right. At eight-six, you leave. At nine, on the dot, you meet Hay at
+Sola Ranch. At nine-ten, the torpedoes take off. At quarter to ten,
+they arrive over their destination--San Francisco and the surrounding
+territory. And quarter to ten, if things go correctly--which they
+must!--is the minute that ends the Slavish invasion of America. At ten
+minutes to ten, five minutes after the torpedoes strike, our troops
+charge forward in general attack. God be with you, Lance! The fate of
+America is resting on your shoulders to-night, remember!"
+
+"I'm remembering."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Colonel Douglas looked at the young man's grim, set face, looked at
+his lithe, clean-limbed figure and his steady black eyes which burned
+with a purposeful fire. And the colonel smiled.
+
+"We'll win!" he said.
+
+An orderly sped from his office, saluted, and rapped crisply:
+
+"Order just received from Washington, sir, to proceed."
+
+Lance clasped Douglas' hand, and leaped into the snug, enclosed
+cockpit. The four motors bellowed as the thin-sprayed oil cascaded to
+them. The helicopter props spun around.
+
+"Go to it, kid!" cried Douglas. "Spy or no spy, you're coming out on
+top! And give Hay a last handshake for me!"
+
+And he swung to the salute.
+
+Lance extended his hand. Then he gave his ship the gun, and the tiny,
+streamlined scout teetered, roared, and rose with a scream into the
+dripping darkness high above.
+
+The Torpedo Plan had started.
+
+
+PART IV
+
+Lance hung for a moment at one thousand feet. A crack of lightning lit
+the base below for a second, and he perceived the colonel's straight
+figure with hand outstretched. Lance grinned, and gunned to forty
+thousand--an easy flying height, with his superchargers pumping and
+air-rectifiers normalizing the enclosed pilot's seat.
+
+"But what," he wondered, as he stopped the helicopters, "did he mean
+by 'give a _last_ handshake'?"
+
+He was soon to find out.
+
+Behind him, in the fuselage, nestled the weird cluster of machinery
+which was the Singe beacon. It certainly did not look imposing--a mass
+of spidery tubes mazing round a bulky black box, which was, Lance
+guessed, some new type of generator. Out of the top of the device
+sprouted a funnel-like horn, from which, on the adjustment of the
+beacon's control studs, shot the nullifying ray. Lance could not
+suppress a shiver as he thought of the earth-shaking cataclysm that
+ray would conjure from the infinitely high heavens.
+
+At forty thousand feet he was above the storm clouds, whose pitchy,
+vapor-drenched blackness effectively blanked out all sign of the
+earth. He might have been flying in outer space. Keeping a careful eye
+on his instruments, he set a course for Sola Ranch. He kept his speed
+around three hundred, wishing to meet Hay exactly at nine.
+
+But--would Hay be there?
+
+How much did the Slavs know? How much had Ranth got through before he
+stopped him?
+
+A frown creased his brow. It was best not to puzzle over that
+question. Best just to go ahead, and keep going.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At about three minutes to nine he set the plane's nose down through
+veils of clammy cloud. This was mountainous country, sparsely
+patrolled by Slav ships. Lance hovered cautiously over the firred
+mountain tops, getting his directions, shooting wary eyes through the
+magnifying mirrors in search of enemy scouts. He saw none. Satisfied,
+he cut the Rahl-Diesels, gunned the helicopter props and dropped
+lightly down on the stubbly field of Sola Ranch.
+
+To left and right loomed the dim outlines of the lonely mountains.
+Before the war, the owner of Sola Ranch had grown apples; this field
+had housed a few horses. It made a perfect meeting place--secluded,
+misty with the clinging mountain vapors, far apart from the war.
+
+Lance felt like a prowling werewolf there, waiting for its ghostly
+mate.
+
+Rain was still splattering in desultory bursts, but distance muted the
+rumbling salvos' of thunder. His watch told him it was one minute to
+nine.
+
+Now--what?
+
+Hay, or a swooping squadron of Slav planes?
+
+Lance stepped out of the cockpit into the rain, though holding himself
+tensely ready to leap back again and soar away. He stared around, and
+peered above.
+
+Was that a shadow?--a nightmare flying bird?--or a plane?
+
+He grasped a hand-flash, and rapidly signalled his identity. The next
+instant, it seemed, the shadow wavered, then fell earthward with great
+speed.
+
+Out of the gloom and rain it came--an enemy plane.
+
+It dropped down beside his scout. From its cockpit came a few swift
+flashes of light.
+
+Hay!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lance ran eagerly over to the other plane, and out from its enclosed
+cabin stepped the man he had known as Praed.
+
+Wordlessly, they gripped hands. Hay's thin, straight face wore a
+smile, and he met Lance's eyes keenly. Lance stammered:
+
+"S-sorry, Captain Hay, about--about the way I treated you at the base.
+You see, I had no idea who you were."
+
+Hay cut short his apologies with a laugh. "Rot! I'd've been the same
+way myself." He glanced rapidly at Lance's plane. "Got it?" he
+questioned. "I'm a bit late; had a hell of a time getting here without
+arousing suspicion. We'd best hurry."
+
+Lance nodded. They hurried to the Goshawk. As they worked, carefully
+lifting out the Singe beacon, Lance, in crisp, short-clipped
+sentences, told his companion of Ranth, the spy.
+
+"You don't know how much he got through?"
+
+"No," said Lance. "No."
+
+"Hm-m. Well, we'll have to trust to luck."
+
+"You know the working of the beacon?" Lance asked. On the other's nod
+of affirmation he continued: "What's your plan?"
+
+"Light about five miles this side of Frisco itself, just near the main
+Slav military base. Anywhere in that territory would do, though. The
+beacon doesn't go up in a narrow ray; it spreads, diffuses. The
+squadron of torpedoes will cover some fifty or sixty miles of ground,
+I believe. They'll utterly demolish the city, and every damned Slav in
+it." His face, in the darkness, went grim and hard. "And it'll damn
+well pay them back," he rasped, "for the horrible way they massacred
+San Francisco's population...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Singe beacon was in his plane. Hay turned to Lance, stretching out
+his hand for a farewell clasp. Then Lance asked the question that had
+been worrying him.
+
+"Colonel Douglas told me to give you a last handshake for him. _Last._
+Why did he say that?"
+
+"Because," Hay said smilingly, "I'm staying by the beacon to make sure
+that nothing goes wrong. I guess that's why he said it, old
+fellow...."
+
+Lance gasped: "You're sacrificing your life?"
+
+"Of course. To save seventy-five million others."
+
+Then suddenly they both stared above.
+
+A roar of sound--of purring motors, of props, mixed with the chatter
+of a dozen machine-guns--had belched with numbing suddenness from the
+low-hanging clouds.
+
+Enemy planes! A patrol of them!
+
+"God!" jerked Lance. "Ranth's warning got through! Part of it,
+anyway!"
+
+He leaped for his plane, shouting: "I'll hold 'em off! You get away
+_quick_!" and, through a veritable hail of lead, sprang into the
+cockpit.
+
+Then, a cold pang at his heart, he sprang out again.
+
+A bullet had caught Hay!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a moment, the Slav fire ceased, while their planes zoomed up to
+start another death-dealing dive. And in that moment Lance was at
+Hay's side, where he had fallen.
+
+"They--got me," whispered Hay, a stream of blood welling from his
+gasping mouth. "I'm--I'm going. C-carry me to--to your plane. I've
+still a--a little strength left. You take the beacon. I--I'll hold
+them--as--as long as--I can. Put through that beacon, boy! _Put it
+though!_"
+
+His brain a maelstrom, Lance stared at the crumpled figure. It was the
+only way! He heard the motors above come roaring down again;
+desperately he carried the blood-choking Hay to his own plane; propped
+him limply at the controls. Bullets spat through a frenzy of noise.
+Weakly Hay started the Goshawk's Diesels, and weakly, into Lance's
+face, smiled, and beckoned him to leave.
+
+And, as Lance, a grim resolve at his heart, turned, Hay's
+blood-frothed lips formed the words: "Carry on!"
+
+Through the raining lead, seeming to bear a charmed life, Lance leaped
+to Hay's plane, hearing as he did so his own, with a stricken pilot at
+its controls, hurtle upwards.
+
+Carry on! For the life of America!
+
+Carry on!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes past the hour of nine. A full thousand miles behind the
+lines, on the wide black field of America's major war base, a small
+group of men stood, surveying the awesome weapons assembled there.
+
+Row upon row of huge, dully-gleaming cigar-shaped things stretched
+away into the darkness before them. There were only one or two faint
+lights to give illumination, and the night choked in on them, making
+them terrifying.
+
+They resembled, more than anything else, half-sized dirigibles, being
+roughly about one hundred feet long and perhaps as much as thirty
+feet high. At first sight, they seemed to be numberless; then, as the
+bewildered eye became more sane, one could count them and see that
+there were, in reality, about thirty. Their prows were stubby; in the
+port side of each a tiny trap-door yawned, and standing by every
+trap-door was the overall-clad figure of a mechanic, waiting for the
+signal.
+
+The Commander of the American Air Force looked up from his
+wrist-watch. At his side was a peculiar gnomelike figure, a figure
+with hunched, twisted back and huge, over-heavy head. This was
+Professor Singe, and from that ridiculous head had come the germ which
+had finally expanded into the torpedoes arrayed before him.
+
+His eyes were nervous; his crooked face twitched ceaselessly. "Time?"
+he kept asking. "Time? Is it yet time?" And finally the tall figure of
+the Commanding Officer turned and rapped: "Time!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An aide-de-camp raised a hand. As if working by some mechanical
+device, the figure which stood by each torpedo climbed through the
+trap-doors, jumped out a second later, and came running to the head of
+the field.
+
+"About thirty seconds," muttered Singe nervously, eyes alight. "Thirty
+seconds for their motors to catch the stream. Thirty--ah!"
+
+For the squadron of man-made horrors had stirred.
+
+"God pity San Francisco!" murmured the Commanding Officer, and stepped
+back involuntarily as the whole fleet lifted their glyco-scarzite
+crammed bellies from the field and, as if moved by some magical,
+unseen, unheard force, shot up into the darkness with ever gathering
+speed.
+
+"God pity it, indeed!" chuckled Singe exultantly. "It'll need it!"
+
+The C. O. sighed and shook his head slowly. "War!" he mused. "And yet,
+it's our only chance." For a moment he paused, seemingly unconscious
+of the macabre little form next to him, still gazing aloft at the now
+invisible torpedoes, and then muttered:
+
+"And God pity Basil Hay, who's giving his life to America--a glorious,
+unselfish hero. God pity Basil Hay!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+American flyers never knew of Basil Hay's last fight. Had they, it
+would have become legendary.
+
+For Hay fought a grim battle against two foes. One, he could face and
+conquer, as he had conquered often before. But the other lurked next
+to his dauntless heart, and it Hay could not subdue.
+
+It was death.
+
+Truly, Hay's fight there in the wet clouds above Sola Ranch was an
+inspired one. He fought almost by instinct alone, instinct twenty
+years of piloting had planted deep in his veins. He fought for
+Lance--for America. His eyes, glazing rapidly, could not distinguish
+the roaring phantoms that laced around his lone plane, but uncannily
+his bursts of fire went home again and again, while theirs ripped
+aimlessly over the Goshawk's hell-driven snout.
+
+Of course it could not last. Gallant spirit alone kept Basil Hay taut
+at his controls. Spirit alone thrust back the ever-increasing surge of
+black oblivion that pounded at his heart and brain. Spirit alone sent
+the pitifully outnumbered plane corkscrewing in peerless maneuverings
+that baffled the on-passing Slavs and thrust four of them to the
+sodden ground in flame. Spirit that would not surrender--but had to.
+
+They could never have conquered Basil Hay in a plane. An ambushing
+bullet that caught him off guard did that. And finally Hay fell.
+
+But he had kept them for ten full minutes. Ten minutes--each one a
+lasting, mute testimony to his unquenchable, unyielding spirit.
+
+He flung a last salvo from his hot machine-guns, then, heart numbing,
+jerked back the control-stick and careened high. He slumped down. The
+plane paused, wallowed crazily for a moment, and then roared
+earthward, "Carry on!" formed faintly on its dead pilot's bloody lips.
+
+Basil Hay had fought his last fight.
+
+Ten minutes....
+
+Lance hadn't expected that long. He'd thought Hay would die in a few
+seconds. The man was mortally wounded; could not last.
+
+Nevertheless, minutes or seconds, he was entrusted with the Singe
+beacon, and it was his job and his will to put it through.
+
+He'd climbed the Slav plane up to its ceiling, driven it till it
+simply refused to go higher, and then roared on towards San Francisco.
+Each second he expected to see others come hurtling after him. When
+they did not, he knew how really great Hay's will was. It was an
+inspiring example.
+
+But his brain was tortured by a multitude of conflicting doubts. A
+patrol of Slav scouts had ambushed them. Just how much did the Slavs
+know, then, about the torpedoes?
+
+He, Lance, had to guide the Singe beacon. Quickly he reviewed what Hay
+had told him.
+
+"Light about five miles this side of Frisco. Anywhere in that
+territory would do, though. The beacon doesn't go up in a narrow ray;
+it spreads, diffuses."
+
+_Spreads, diffuses._
+
+Hay had been clad in Slav uniform, and thus could, with a certain
+measure of safety, put the beacon machinery on the ground itself. But
+Lance was in American uniform; if he landed, he ran great risk of
+being noticed and attacked at once.
+
+Lance saw immediately that there was only one way out. It was sure
+death, but Hay had expected death, and so must he.
+
+His lips set in stern resolve. It meant good-by--farewell to the girl
+he'd left behind, farewell to life, farewell to everything--but not
+for a second did he debate the course he would take.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lance glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty. The torpedoes were even now
+on their way, hurtling along miles above the earth. In fifteen minutes
+they would be over San Francisco. In fifteen minutes the Singe beacon
+had to meet them.
+
+He was not familiar with the Slav plane's instruments, but he judged
+he'd traveled some hundred and twenty-five miles; was nearing the
+outskirts of San Francisco. The air below would be thick, probably,
+with enemy scouts, but his appearance should pass unchallenged as long
+as they didn't glimpse his betraying uniform.
+
+He set the plane's nose down in a long slanting dive.
+
+Whipping through the clouds, the guarding search-rays of San Francisco
+were soon visible. Lance saw a few patrols of enemy scouts; he clung
+to the clouds, decreased his speed, and began circling over the heart
+of the metropolis itself.
+
+Twenty to ten.
+
+Occasionally a Slav plane flashed by him. Thank God, they didn't
+challenge! Lance went still lower. Finally, at a thousand feet, he set
+the helicopter props in motion and hung in mid-air--directly above the
+very center of the city.
+
+Sixteen minutes to ten.
+
+Now!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the American front-line trenches, massed troops crouched
+expectantly. Clustered on every air base were flights of planes, each
+one crammed with bombs. Far behind, the Yank gun-crews edged nervously
+up to their mighty charges, and fingered anxiously the stubby gas
+shells which soon would be flung through the dripping night.
+
+And at Base No. 5 a very uneasy Colonel Douglas paced back and forth
+in his office, muttering: "No news from Lance! No news from Lance!
+God! He can't have failed! But why doesn't he show up?"
+
+He had not failed.
+
+Hovering in the plane over San Francisco Lance squirmed round in his
+seat, reached back into the fuselage, and pressed rapidly the studs on
+the Singe beacon. A high whining noise pierced instantly through the
+plane. And up stabbed the beacon, invisible, deadly--up, up, up to a
+thin realm miles above, where it flashed into an awesome squadron of
+terrible shells of steel!
+
+Shells that, a second later, wavered, staggered, and plunged
+earthward!
+
+And Lance tensed in his seat. From above, he caught a tiny whistling
+noise--a whistling that hurtled into a terrific shriek--that roared
+ever closer.
+
+"Carry on!" he muttered. "Carry on!"
+
+The words froze on his lips, for the world was suddenly consumed, it
+seemed, by flame and splitting, bellowing thunder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The American guns spoke.
+
+From every aerodrome long flights of scouts and bombers and transport
+planes roared upward.
+
+In the front trenches the troops, still somewhat dazed by the
+earth-shaking explosion that had just tumbled from the far horizon--a
+horizon still lit by leaping tongues of awful flame--poured over the
+top, gas-masks on, repeaters and portable machine-guns at the ready,
+with a fierce cry on their lips.
+
+Before that avenging attack the Slavs, their very spine broken,
+bewildered and confused, already turning in panic, could not stand.
+
+America swept to the Pacific, and left death in her wake. And when she
+came to San Francisco, not even the sternest fighting men, still hot
+from battle, could repress a shudder, so awful was the devastation.
+
+The Slav invasion was over!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the rebuilt city of San Francisco there is a statue that stands
+proudly before the magnificent, gleaming city hall.
+
+It represents two slim, straight-standing figures, clad in the uniform
+of the American Air Force. Their outstretched arms support a tiny
+one-seater Goshawk fighting plane.
+
+Below, as you know, there is a plaque. Men touch their hats as they
+walk by it; flowers are always fresh at its base. On the plaque are
+the words:
+
+                To The Everlasting
+                    Memory Of
+
+             Captain Basil Hay, A.A.F.
+             Captain Derek Lance, A.A.F.
+
+           Who, In The War Of 1938, Gave
+           Their Lives In Destroying And
+             Devastating San Francisco
+           That San Francisco And America
+                     Might Live
+
+
+[Illustration: Advertisement.]
+
+
+
+
+The Tentacles From Below
+
+A COMPLETE NOVELETTE
+
+_By Anthony Gilmore_
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+"_Machine-Fish_"
+
+[Illustration: _Bowman hooked it on the hawser arm above._]
+
+[Sidenote: Down to tremendous ocean depths goes Commander Keith Wells
+in his blind duel with the marauding "machine-fish."]
+
+
+"Full stop. Rest ready."
+
+These words glowed in vivid red against the black background of the
+_NX-1's_ control order-board. A wheel was spun over, a lever pulled
+back, and in the hull of the submarine descended the peculiar silence
+found only in mile-deep waters. Men rested at their posts, eyes alert.
+
+Above, in the control room, Hemingway Bowman, youthful first officer,
+glanced at the teleview screen and swore softly.
+
+"Keith," he said, "between you and me, I'll be damned glad when this
+monotonous job's over. I joined the Navy to see the world, but this
+charting job's giving me entirely too many close-ups of the deadest
+parts of it!"
+
+Commander Keith Wells. U. S. N., grinned broadly. "Well," he remarked,
+"in a few minutes we can call it a day--or night, rather--and then
+it's back to the _Falcon_ while the day shift 'sees the world.'" He
+turned again to his dials as Hemmy Bowman, with a sigh, resumed work.
+
+"Depth, six thousand feet. Visibility poor. Bottom eight thousand," he
+said into the phone hung before his lips, and fifty feet aft, in a
+small cubby, a blue-clad figure monotonously repeated the observations
+and noted them down in an official geographical survey report.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Such had been their routine for two tiring weeks, all part of the
+_NX-l's_ present work of re-charting the Newfoundland banks.
+
+As early as 1929 slight cataclysms had begun to tear up the sea-floor
+of this region, and of late--1935--seismographs and cable companies
+had reported titanic upheavals and sinkings of the ocean bed, changing
+hundreds of miles of underwater territory. Finally Washington decided
+to chart the alterations this series of sub-sea earthquakes had
+wrought.
+
+And for this job the _NX-1_ was detailed. A super-submarine fresh from
+the yards, small, but modern to the last degree, she contained such
+exclusive features as a sheathing of the tough new glycosteel,
+automatic air rectifiers, a location chart for showing positions of
+nearby submarines, the newly developed Edsel electric motors, and
+automatic teleview screen. When below surface she was a sealed tube of
+metal one hundred feet long, and possessed of an enormous cruising
+radius. From the flower of the Navy some thirty men were picked, and
+in company with the mother-ship _Falcon_ she put out to combine an
+exhaustive trial trip with the practical charting of the newly changed
+ocean floor.
+
+Now this work was almost over. Keith Wells told himself that he, like
+Bowman, would be glad to set foot on land again. This surveying was
+important, of course, but too dry for him--no action. He smiled at the
+lines of boredom on Hemmy's brow as the younger man stared gloomily
+into the teleview screen.
+
+And then the smile left his lips. The radio operator, in a cubby
+adjoining the control room, had spoken into the communication tube:
+
+"Urgent call for you, sir! From Captain Knapp!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells reached out and clipped a pair of extension phones over his
+ears. The deep voice of Robert Knapp, captain of the mother-ship
+_Falcon_, came ringing in. It was strained with an excitement unusual
+to him.
+
+"Wells? Knapp speaking. Something damned funny's just happened near
+here. You know the fishing fleet that was near us yesterday morning?"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, the whole thing's gone down! Destroyed, absolutely! The sea's
+been like glass, the weather perfect--yet from the wreckage, what
+there is of it, you'd think a typhoon had struck! I can't begin to
+explain it. No survivors, either, so far, though we're hunting for
+them."
+
+"You say the boats are completely destroyed?"
+
+"Smashed like driftwood. I tell you it's preposterous--and yet it's
+the fact. I think you'd better return at once, old man; you're only
+half an hour off. And come on the surface; it's getting light now, and
+you might pick up something. God knows what this means, Keith, but
+it's up to us to find out. It's--it's got me...."
+
+His tones were oddly disturbed--almost scared--and this from a man who
+didn't know what fear was.
+
+"But Bob," Keith asked, "how did you--"
+
+"Stand by a minute! The lookout reports survivors!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells turned to meet Bowman's inquisitive face. He quickly repeated
+the gist of Knapp's weird story. "We saw them at dusk, last
+evening--remember? And now they're gone, destroyed. What can have done
+it?"
+
+For some minutes the two surprised men speculated on the strange
+occurrence. Then Knapp's voice again rang in the headphones.
+
+"Wells? My God, man, this is getting downright fantastic! We've just
+taken two survivors on board; one's barely alive and the other crazy.
+I can't get an intelligible thing from him; he keeps shrieking about
+writhing arms and awful eyes--and monsters he calls 'machine-fish'!"
+
+"You're sure he's insane?"
+
+Robert Knapp's voice hesitated queerly.
+
+"Well, he's shrieking about 'machine-fish'--fish with machines over
+them!... I--I'm going to broadcast the whole story to the land
+stations. 'Machine-fish'! I don't know.... I don't know.... You'd
+better hurry back, Wells!"
+
+He rang off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Keith slipped off the headphones and told Bowman what he had learned.
+Hardy, staunchly built craft, those fishing boats were; born in the
+teeth of gales. What horror could have ripped them--all of them--to
+driftwood, with the weather perfect? And a half-mad survivor, raving
+about "machine-fish"!
+
+"Such things are preposterous," Bowman commented scornfully.
+
+"But--the fleet's gone, Hemmy," Keith replied. "Anyway, we'll speed
+back, and see what it's all about."
+
+He punched swift commands on the control studs. "Empty Tanks, Zoom to
+Surface, Full Speed," the crimson words glared down below, and the
+_NX-1_ at once shoved her snout up, trembling as her great electric
+motors began their pulsing whine. The delicate fingers of the massed
+dials before Keith danced exultantly. The depth-levels tolled out:
+
+"Seven thousand ... six thousand ... five thousand--"
+
+"Keith! Look there!"
+
+Hemmy Bowman was pointing with amazement at the location chart, a
+black mesh screen that showed the position of other submarines within
+a radius of two miles. In one corner, a spot of vivid red was shining.
+
+"But it can't be a submarine!" Wells objected. "Our reports would have
+mentioned it!"
+
+The two officers stared at each other.
+
+"'Machine-fish!'" Bowman whispered softly. "If there were machines,
+the metal would register on the chart."
+
+"It must be them!" the commander roared, coming out of his daze. "And,
+by God, we're going after them!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rapidly he brought the _NX-1_ out of her zoom to the surface, and left
+her at four thousand feet, in perfect trim, while he read the
+instruments closely.
+
+A green spot in the center of the location chart denoted the _NX-1's_
+exact position. A distance of perhaps forty inches separated it from
+the red light on the meshed screen--which represented, roughly, a mile
+and a half. Below the chart was a thick dial, over which a black hand,
+indicating the mysterious submersible's approximate depth, was slowly
+moving.
+
+"He's sinking--whatever he is," Keith muttered to Hemmy. "Hey, Sparks!
+Get me Captain Knapp."
+
+A moment later the connection was put through.
+
+"Bob? This is Wells again. Bob, our location chart shows the presence
+of some strange undersea metallic body. It can't be a submarine, for
+my maritime reports would show its presence. We think it has some
+connection with the 'machine-fish' that survivor raved about. At any
+rate, I'm going after it. The world has a right to know what destroyed
+that fishing fleet, and since the _NX-1_ is right on the spot it's my
+duty to track it down. Re-broadcast this news to land stations, will
+you? I'll keep in touch with you."
+
+Knapp's voice came soberly back. "I guess you're right, Keith; it's up
+to you.... So long, old man. Good luck!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In Wells' veins throbbed the lust for action. With control studs at
+hand, location chart and teleview screen before his eyes and fifteen
+men waiting below for his commands, he had no fear of any monster the
+underseas might spew up. He glanced swiftly at the location chart and
+depth indicator again.
+
+The mysterious red spot was slowly coming across the _NX-1's_ bows at
+a distance of about one mile. Keith punched a stud, and, as his craft
+filled her tank and slipped down further into deep water, he spoke to
+Hemmy Bowman.
+
+"Take control for a minute. Keep on all speed, and follow 'em like a
+bloodhound. I'm going below."
+
+He strode down the connecting ramp to the lower deck, where he found
+fifteen men standing vigilantly at posts. At once Keith plunged into a
+full explanation of what he had learned up in the control room. He
+concluded:
+
+"A great moral burden rests on us--every one of us--as we will soon
+come face to face with a possible world menace. Anything may happen. A
+state of war exists on this submarine. You will be prepared for any
+wartime eventuality!"
+
+Sobered faces greeted this announcement, and perceptibly the men
+straightened and held themselves more alertly. Wells at once returned
+to the control room. A glance at the location chart and its two tiny
+lights told him that the intervening distance had been decreased to
+about half a mile.
+
+The depth dial showed them both to be two miles below, and steadily
+diving lower. Charts showed the sea-floor to be three miles deep in
+this position, and that meant--
+
+"Look there!" exclaimed the first officer suddenly. "It's changing
+course!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The crimson stud had suddenly shifted its course, and now was fleeing
+directly before them. For a moment the distance between the green and
+red lights remained constant--and then Keith Wells stared
+unbelievingly at the chart, wiped a hand across his eyes and stared
+again.
+
+"Why--why, the devils are as fast as we!" he exclaimed in amazement.
+"I think they're even gaining on us!"
+
+"And there's no other submarine in the world that can do more than
+thirty under water!" Hemmy Bowman added. "We're hitting a full
+forty-one!"
+
+A call came through the communication tube from Sparks. "Report from
+Consolidated Radio News-Broadcasters, sir, aimed especially at us."
+
+"Well?" asked Keith, motioning Hemmy to listen in. Sparks read it.
+
+"'A week ago Atlantic City reported that seven men were snatched off
+fishing boat by unidentified tentacled monsters. Testimony of
+witnesses was discredited, but was later corroborated by the almost
+identical testimony of other witnesses at Brighton Beach, England, who
+saw man and woman taken by mysterious monsters whilst bathing.'
+Perhaps these same creatures destroyed the Newfoundland fishing
+fleet." His level voice ceased.
+
+"Tentacled monsters ... 'machine-fish,'" Wells murmured slowly.
+"'Machine-fish.'..."
+
+Their eyes met, the same wonder in each. "Well," Keith rapped at
+last, "we're seeing this through!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He turned again to the location chart. The green spot as always was in
+the center, and at a constant distance was the red, showing that the
+_NX-1_ was hot on the other's trail. The depth dials indicated that
+both were diving deeper every moment.
+
+"Where in hell's it going?" the commander rasped. "We'll be on the
+floor in a few minutes!"
+
+Here the teleview showed the world to be one of fantasy, one to which
+the sun did not exist. It was not an utter, pitchy blackness that
+pervaded the water, but rather a peculiar, dark blueness. No fish
+schools, Keith noted, scurried from them. They had already left these
+waters; aware, perhaps, of the passing Terror....
+
+They plunged lower yet. Wells was conscious of Hemmy Bowman's quick,
+uneven breathing. Conscious of the tautness of his own nerves, strung
+like quivering violin strings. Conscious of the terrific walls of
+water pressing in on them. And conscious of the men below, their lives
+bound implicitly in his will and brain....
+
+A thought came to him, and quickly he reached into a rack for the
+chart of the local sea-floor. His brow creased with puzzlement as he
+studied it.
+
+"Here's more mystery, Hemmy," he muttered. "Look--there's an
+underwater cliff about half a mile dead ahead. It rises to within four
+thousand feet of the surface. And that thing out there is charging
+straight into its base!"
+
+"They must be aware of it," jerked the other. "See?--they've stopped!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was true. The gulf between the two colored spots was rapidly being
+swallowed up. At a pulsing forty-one knots the _NX-1_ was closing in
+on the motionless mystery craft.
+
+"They're sinking to the floor itself," observed Wells. "Perhaps
+waiting to attack."
+
+The invisible beams from their ultra-violet light-beacons streamed
+through the silent gloom outside, yet still the teleview screen was
+empty. Keith punched a stud, and the _NX-1's_ whining motors dulled to
+a scarcely audible purr.
+
+"What is the thing?" muttered Hemmy Bowman. "God, Keith, what _is_
+it?"
+
+For answer, the commander dropped them the last five hundred feet. The
+sea-floor rose like a gray ghost. More control studs were pushed; the
+order-board below read: "All Power Off, Rest in Trim." The location
+chart told a tale that wrung a gasp from Bowman's throat. The red and
+green lights were practically touching....
+
+The hands of Petty Officer Brown, the helmsman, were quivering on the
+helm. Wells' fists kept tensing and relaxing as he peered for a sight
+of the enemy in the teleview. Nothing showed but the moving fingers of
+spectral kelp. Then both he and Bowman cried out as one:
+
+"_There!_"
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+_The Silent Ray_
+
+A strange shape had suddenly materialized on the screen--an immense,
+oval-shaped thing of dull metal, with great curving cuts of glass-like
+substance in its blunt bow, like staring eyes; a lifeless, staring
+thing, stretching far into the curtain of gloom behind. How long it
+was, Keith could not tell; at first his numb brain refused to grasp it
+and reduce it to definite, sane standards of size and length. The cold
+weeds of the sea-floor kelp beds swayed eerily over and around it.
+From its bow, he saw, peculiar knobs jutted, the function of which he
+guessed with dread.
+
+Was it waiting with a purpose? Was it waiting--and inviting attack?
+
+A frightened whisper from Hemmy Bowman broke the hush:
+
+"Keith, the thing has ports, but shows no lights! What kind of
+creatures can they be?"
+
+As he spoke, the three men in the control room felt the unmistakable,
+jarring tingle of an electric shock. And while their nerves still
+jumped, it came again; and again. They were conscious of a slight
+feeling of drowsiness.
+
+Keith gaped at Bowman and Brown, and then a flash on the teleview
+screen drew his eyes. There, against the blackness of its otherwise
+inanimate hulk, one of the jutting knobs on the bow of the mysterious
+submarine was glowing and pulsing with orange life! With it came the
+tingling shock again. It flicked off as they watched, then returned
+and went once more.
+
+"They're attacking, but thank God the shock was harmless!" Wells said
+grimly. "All right; they've asked for it: I'm going to see how they
+like the taste of a torpedo!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two submarines were resting on the ocean floor with perhaps two
+hundred feet between them. The _NX-1's_ bow tubes were not exactly in
+line to score a direct hit; she would have to be maneuvered slightly
+to port. The range was short; the explosion from the torpedoes would
+be titanic.
+
+Keith punched the control studs, ordering the men below to assume
+firing stations. Then, while waiting for the _NX-1_ to shift, he
+studied the teleview screen to sight the range exactly. The black dot
+which represented the enemy craft was not directly on the crossed
+hair-lines of the dial-like range-finder, but shifting the _NX-1_ a
+few feet would bring it to the perfect firing point.
+
+But the _NX-1_ did not budge.
+
+Surprised, her commander swung and looked at Bowman. "What the devil?"
+he cried. "Did that shock--?" He left the dread thought unfinished and
+leaped to the speaking tubes.
+
+"Craig! Jones! Wetherby!" he yelled. "Men! Don't you hear me? Aren't
+you--"
+
+He broke off, wordless, waiting for an answer that did not come, then
+sprang to the connecting ramp and ran to the deck below.
+
+The scene he found halted him abruptly in his tracks. Every member of
+the crew was sprawled on the deck, in grotesque, limp postures. They
+had been standing rigidly at posts, he saw, when the thing, whatever
+it was, had struck. Without a sound, without a single cry of alarm,
+the _NX-1's_ crew had been laid low!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The commander slowly advanced to the deck and stared more closely at
+the upturned faces around him. He saw that every man's eyes were open.
+
+Bending over one still form, he pressed his hand on the heart. It was
+beating! The man was alive! Amazed, he moved to another and another:
+they were all breathing, slowly and regularly--were all alive! A
+curious look in their eyes staggered him for a moment. He could swear
+that they recognized him, knew he was staring at them--for every
+single pair was alight with intelligence, and Keith fancied he saw
+gleams of recognition.
+
+"It must have been a paralyzing ray!" he gasped. "A thing our
+scientists've been trying to develop for years.... And that monster
+outside knows the secret...." He lifted an arm of the inert figure at
+his feet; when he released the grip, it flopped limply back to the
+deck again.
+
+"_Keith! Come back, quick!_"
+
+Startled, the commander turned to find Hemingway Bowman at the top of
+the connecting ramp, his face distorted with alarm.
+
+"For God's sake, come back quick!" he yelled again. "Down there the
+ray might get you!"
+
+With the words, Wells leaped to the ramp and raced to the control
+room. He had no sooner made it than he felt again the queer tingle of
+the electric charge. He found himself trembling. Bowman's face was
+white. His words came stuttering.
+
+"One second later and they'd have got you.... They got Sparks in his
+cubby.... You see, the ray doesn't affect us in the control room
+because--"
+
+"Because the Gibson insulation that protects the instruments keeps it
+out!" Keith finished grimly. "I see!"
+
+Just then a slight jar ran through the submarine. Coincident with it
+came a cry from Brown, the helmsman. His arm was pointed at the
+teleview.
+
+There they saw the enemy's mighty dirigible of metal was now within
+thirty feet of the _NX-1._ It had crept up silently, without warning.
+And, spanning the short gulf between them, an arm of webbed metal
+craned from the other's huge bow, hooking tightly into the American
+submarine's forward hawser holes!
+
+As they took this in, the enemy ship moved away and the arm of metal
+tightened. The _NX-1_ shuddered. And, at first slowly, but with ever
+increasing speed, she got under way and slid after her captor. They
+were being towed away. Kidnaped! Men, submarine and all!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Keith Wells mopped sweat from a hot brow and rapidly reviewed his
+weapons. He was sorely restricted. Through an emergency system the
+_NX-1_ could be propelled and maneuvered from her control room; but
+the torpedo tubes needed local attendance.
+
+"Hemmy, reverse engines," he jerked, himself spinning over a small
+wheel. "Let's see if we can out-pull the devil!"
+
+At once they felt the shock of the paralyzing ray, and then the
+surging whine of the Edsel electrics pulsed up and in the teleview
+screen they watched the grim struggle of ship against ship.
+
+Imperceptibly, almost, as her screws cut in and churned, the forward
+progress of the _NX-1_ was slowing, the speed of the other being cut
+down, until finally they but barely forged ahead. Slowly, ever so
+slowly they were out-pulled; inch by inch they were dragged ahead.
+Their motors could not hold even.
+
+"She's more powerful than we!" Wells' bitter voice spoke. "Damn!" He
+thought desperately, while Bowman and Brown stared at the fantastic
+tale the teleview spelled out.
+
+Again the paralyzing shock tingled, an intangible jailer that bound
+them, more surely than steel bars, to the control room. To dare that
+streaming barrage meant instant impotence, and perhaps, later,
+death....
+
+"Our two bow torpedoes," Keith mused slowly. "We're a bit close, but
+it's our only chance. The ray comes at intervals of about a minute;
+the torps are ready for firing. If one of us could dash forward and
+discharge 'em.... Brown, that's you!"
+
+The petty officer met his commander's gaze levelly. He smiled. "Yes,
+sir, I'm ready!" he said.
+
+"Good! It'll have to be quick work, though; I'll try and keep the sub
+pointed straight. Wait for the ray, then run like hell!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first officer took over the helm and Brown stepped to the forward
+ladder, waiting for the periodic ray to be discharged.
+
+The odd tingle came and vanished. "Now!" Wells roared, and Brown
+leaped down the thin steel rungs.
+
+He staggered at the bottom from the force of his impact, then
+straightened and raced madly forward. Through the drone of the motors
+the two officers could hear the staccato beat of his feet.
+
+But their eyes were glued to the teleview. Through clutching beds of
+seaweed the enemy submarine was ploughing. Her great, smooth bow lay
+straight ahead, metal hawser arm spanning the thirty feet between
+them. In another second, Keith thought grimly, two dynamite packed
+tubes of sudden death would thunderbolt into that hull, and--
+
+Brown pulled the lever.
+
+The tubes spat out compressed air; a scream ran through the submarine;
+and the two steel fish leaped from their sheaths, their tiny props
+roaring. Over the narrow gulf they shot; the range was short, their
+target dead ahead--and yet by bare inches they missed!
+
+No answering roar bellowed back. Keith had watched their course; had
+seen them flash by the enemy's bow, flicking it with their rudders,
+but nothing more. "Why?" he cried. And, as Bowman moved his hands in a
+hopeless gesture, he saw in the teleview the reason.
+
+It was a jagged pinnacle of rock, which, just before Brown had fired,
+had been straight ahead. The towing monster had seen it and veered
+sharply to avoid crashing. The barest change of course, yet sufficient
+to avoid the torpedoes....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells and Bowman were cursing savagely when the sound of Brown, racing
+desperately aft, jerked the commander to the ladder. He saw the petty
+officer at its foot. "Hurry!" Wells shouted. "The ray!"
+
+Brown grasped the steel rungs and scrambled upward, but he was too
+late. The fatal charge tingled. A peculiar, surprised expression
+washed over his face; his hands loosened their grip. For a second his
+eyes looked questioningly at his commander; a faint sigh escaped him;
+and then his arms flung out, his body relaxed, and he slumped like a
+slab of meat to the deck below....
+
+Keith Wells saw red. Blind to everything, he was just about to charge
+down the ladder to himself re-load the forward tubes when the grip of
+Hemmy Bowman's hand stayed him. The thing Hemmy was staring at in the
+teleview screen sobered him completely.
+
+The wall of rock to which the enemy submarine had first been charging
+had become visible, soaring vastly from the gloom of the sea-floor.
+And the monster was towing them straight into a dark, jagged cleft at
+its base.
+
+"It's a cavern!" Keith breathed. "A split in the rock--the lair of
+that devil. And we're being dragged into it!"
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+_Sacrifice_
+
+At that moment Keith Wells knew fear. Each second they were being
+hauled closer to the monster's dim lair. It lay there, dark,
+mysterious, fingered by gently swaying, clammy kelp. A hushed solitude
+seemed to reign over it, aweing all undersea life from the
+vicinity.... Wells turned his head to meet Bowman's eyes, and read in
+them a silent question.
+
+What now?
+
+He groaned in the agony of his mind. In a few minutes, all would be
+over. Once the _NX-1_ was dragged into that dark cavern there'd be no
+chance of escaping to warn the world above, of saving the submarine.
+What now? The question brought beads of sweat to his tormented brow.
+He, Keith Wells, standing impotently by while his ship, the pride of
+the service, was hauled inch by inch to some strange doom!
+
+Racked by these thoughts, he murmured tortured, jerky phrases,
+unconscious he was giving voice to the things that flogged his brain.
+
+"What can I do? I've got to save my ship--I've got to get back to
+break the news--I've got to tell the world! But how? How--" His
+expression changed suddenly. "That's it! That hawser arm between us
+must be broken!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+First Officer Hemingway Bowman's clear voice broke in on the older
+man's thoughts with that one crisp word. Keith swung to find the
+other's eyes fixed levelly on his.
+
+"You're right, Keith. The hawser arm must be broken; with a depth
+charge, of course. It's the only way.
+
+"To attach a depth charge," he continued evenly, "a man must leave the
+ship. You can't, Keith. It will be me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The commander did not speak. "I'll put on a sea-suit," Hemmy went on
+quickly, eyes lighting. "You tip the submarine and I'll slide out the
+conning tower exit port on the lee side, so they can't see me, and
+worm forward through the kelp. We're almost holding them even; that'll
+be easy. I'll be protected from the paralyzing shock until the last
+second, and it may not get me outside; that'll have to be chanced. The
+hawser arm's only some ten feet above the sea-floor; I can reach it
+with a hook on the charge." He paused.
+
+"I'll attach it; and when it bursts I'll try to get back and grab that
+ring on the midships exit port, and you can let me in when we get to
+the surface. But if I take too long, Keith--if I miss--you beat it
+without me. You understand? Beat it!"
+
+He gazed straight at his friend. "Understand, Keith?"
+
+Commander Keith Wells bowed his head in acquiescence. He was afraid
+that if he met Hemmy Bowman's steady eyes he'd make a fool of
+himself....
+
+Hemmy glanced at the screen once more, shivering as he saw how near
+the black cavern was. Then he moved rapidly, playing the cards
+carefully for his gamble with death. He had to: the trumps were in the
+other hand.
+
+From the locker where their sea-suits were stowed he grabbed his own,
+and with quick fingers ripped the slides and fitted it on. A sheath of
+yellow Lestofabrik, its weighted feet and gleaming casque transformed
+his slim figure into a giant such as might stalk through a nightmare.
+Built cunningly into the helmet was a tiny radio transmitter and
+receiver, with a range of a quarter-mile; hugging to the shoulders,
+inside nestled the air-making mechanism, its tiny generators already
+in motion. Around the helmet was fastened a small removable
+undersea-light. The wrists of the suit were very flexible, permitting
+the freest motion.
+
+Once in the suit, Hemmy smiled through the still-opened face-shield.
+
+"Got the depth charge ready, Keith? Make it fast--that cavern's
+near!... Good!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silently the commander fitted the black bomb to his friend's
+shoulders. It was timed to fire a minute after being set. A long wire
+hook craned from its top, and this hook Bowman would fasten on the
+hawser arm.
+
+"Without Sparks, I guess I'll have to communicate with you through
+portable," Keith said, and quickly donned one of the tiny portable
+sets.
+
+"Right. Ready, Keith."
+
+Bowman started his awkward, crawling progress up the ladder into the
+conning tower just above, Keith helping from behind. When they stood
+before the exit port on the lee side, Wells shot back its bolts and
+the door swung open, revealing the black emptiness of the water
+chamber. The commander gazed for a second into Bowman's eyes. The
+moment had come.
+
+Keith turned his head away, felt a hand grip his. He wrung it
+tightly....
+
+Bowman clumped into the chamber.
+
+The commander closed and locked the door, and he heard the streaming
+water pour in as Hemmy turned the valve. Then Wells sped down the
+ladder and tilted the diving and course rudders of the submarine.
+
+She swayed daintily over to port; held there. A moment later the
+recurring electric tingle brushed him. Had the enemy seen Bowman
+leave? Had the ray struck him down?
+
+He glared into the teleview. "Thank God!" he breathed. For Hemmy had
+already slid down the _NX-1's_ smooth hull and was safe on the
+sea-floor beside her.
+
+"Everything right?" Wells asked, speaking into the microphone of his
+portable.
+
+"All O.K.," came the answer. "Going forward now. Kelp thick as hell."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Keith's eyes bored at the screen. This misshapen monster who was his
+friend! Almost obscured by bands of thick-leaved kelp the yellow form
+moved, hands clearing a pathway through the weeds. Slowly but surely
+he made for the bow of the submersible.
+
+"Hard going, Keith. God--the cavern's right ahead!"
+
+It was ghostly to hear Hemmy's warm voice from the lifeless solitude
+outside. Breath coming quickly, Wells watched the silent scene--the
+cleft in the wall of rock overshadowing everything now. The diver
+fought ahead, gaining inch by inch.
+
+Now, save for occasional clumps of weed, he was exposed to the
+enemy.... Now the last desperate gauntlet was reached.... Keith felt
+his blood pound hotly.
+
+"I'm gaining, Keith. Gaining...."
+
+Bowman had little breath for speech. His tiny form battled on, now
+sinking from sight as he dropped into some masked gully, now wrestling
+slowly with great swaying strands of kelp, but always struggling
+ahead.
+
+"I'm at the bow, Keith! The hawser arm's right in our mooring holes.
+I'll go halfway before fastening the charge. Any signs of life from
+the devil?"
+
+"None yet, Hemmy. But go slow. Hide all you can, old man, for God's
+sake!..."
+
+Right beneath the metal arm, Bowman's dwarfed figure crept doggedly
+ahead. Forward, inch by breathless inch. Kelp thickened, washed away;
+the two hulking submersibles, captor and captive, surged onward--but
+just a little faster went the valiant figure with the black charge on
+its back.
+
+The towing monster had its snout in the cavern. The darkness
+thickened. Bowman was quarter way!
+
+He plunged desperately. Half way!
+
+"I'm there, Keith! Now for it!"
+
+"Oh, God!" Wells cried. "They see you; they're coming!"
+
+For he had seen strange shapes leaving the enemy submarine.
+
+And at that same moment, Bowman saw them, too.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They came like the blink of a dark eye from a door that had quickly
+slid open in the mysterious ship's bow. As tall as a man they were,
+and there were two of them, though at first the nature of their
+bodies merged with the wreathing kelp made them seem like a dozen.
+Bowman stared at them, hypnotized with fear. His legs and arms went
+dead, and his whole gallant spirit seemed to slump into lifeless clay.
+Now he knew why the fishermen had shrieked "machine-fish." Each one of
+them had eight tapering arms, eight restless tentacles. These were
+octopi, most hideous scavengers of the ocean floor! And not only
+octopi--but octopi sheathed in metal-scaled armor!
+
+As they came closer, he realized this preposterous fact. The dark
+substance of their writhing tentacles was not flesh: it was a coat of
+metal scales. And the fat central mass which held their eyes and vital
+organs and beaked jaw--this mass was completely enveloped by a globe
+of glass. From inside, he could see great eyes staring at him. The
+monsters came towards him quite slowly, obviously wary, advancing over
+the sea-floor in what was a hideous mockery of walking, their forward
+tentacles outstretched.
+
+With a sob, Hemmy Bowman pulled himself from his trance. He glanced
+back at the _NX-1_. He still had time to retreat. He might be able to
+get back inside before these monsters seized him.
+
+But that meant abandoning his job. And already his own submarine was
+nosing into the cavern. The choice between the octopi and retreat
+stared him in the face. He pulled himself together and jerked his arms
+back to action.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Eyes bulging, Keith Wells peered at the dim teleview screen. He saw
+the creatures approaching Hemmy. And then, suddenly, he remembered his
+radiophone.
+
+"Hemmy! Come back, for God's sake!" he cried. "Come back while you
+can--it's hopeless!"
+
+But Bowman had already seized the depth charge from his back and
+hooked it on the hawser arm above.
+
+Immediately, with that action, all caution fled from the approaching
+monsters. Their tentacles whipped furiously; and in a great arc they
+sprang for the tiny figure of the diver.
+
+With a deep breath, Hemmy staggered forward to meet them. "Keith!" he
+gasped. "I'll try to hold 'em away from the charge! When it bursts,
+zoom! Zoom like hell to the surface!" And then the tentacles had him.
+
+Keith watched, cursing his impotence to help. Hemmy had no weapon; he
+was trying to hold them back by the weight of his body; he reached out
+and grasped a tentacle and hugged it to him, shoving forward with all
+his puny strength. But all his effort was as nothing. One of the
+octopi writhed past him and darted onto the depth charge. Its
+tentacles tugged at the bomb; pulled furiously.
+
+The time charge exploded. The _NX-1_ rocked like a quivering reed;
+Wells was knocked violently to the floor; a vast roar smote his
+ear-drums. When he staggered to his feet he found that the octopus
+that was pulling at the charge had disappeared--blown into fragments
+of flesh and metal. But the hawser arm was broken! The _NX-1_, free,
+shot back a full fifty feet under the pull of her reversed screws. A
+cry echoed in her commander's ears:
+
+"Go back, Keith! Go like hell!"
+
+He saw the remaining octopus lift Bowman and whip to the exit port of
+its submarine. The lid slid into place, closing on the monster and his
+friend, and the enemy ship vanished into the black cavern....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once clear of the opening, Keith set his motors full forward and
+brought the diving rudders up. Quickly the ship sped from the haunted
+sea-floor to the sun-warmed surface. A last thin call rang in his
+radiophone:
+
+"They've got me inside, Keith. It's dark, and filled with water. I
+can't see anything, but I--I guess we're going through the cavern....
+Forget about me, old boy. So long! So--"
+
+The voice was abruptly cut off.
+
+Keith ripped the instrument from his head. Then, face white and drawn,
+he ran to the radio cubby. Standing over Sparks' inert body, he put
+through a call to Robert Knapp, on the _Falcon_.
+
+"Knapp?" he said harshly. "This is Wells. I'll be with you in a few
+minutes. Yes--yes--I'll tell you the whole story later. But get this
+now: Have the day shift all ready to take over the submarine by the
+time I pull alongside."
+
+He said no more just then; but rang off, and, looking back, he
+muttered savagely:
+
+"But I'll be back, Hemmy--I'll be back!"
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+_In the Cavern_
+
+"That's the story, Knapp. They got Bowman, and I had to run away.
+Their ship disappeared into the cavern. I've got a hunch, though, that
+it's not just a cavern, but a tunnel, leading through to some
+underwater world. That series of sub-sea earthquakes probably opened
+it up; and now these devil-octopi are free to pour out. I've _got_ to
+find out what's what, and that's why I'm going down again as soon as
+the torpedo system's ready!"
+
+Keith and Robert Knapp were in the _Falcon's_ chart room. On the table
+before them lay a broad white map with a cross-mark indicating the
+position of the mysterious dark cavern.
+
+Wells was striding up and down like a caged tiger in his impatience to
+be off. Every other minute he glared down to where the _NX-1_ lay
+alongside. On her conning tower stood the tall blond-haired figure of
+Graham, the first officer of the day shift, supervising the final
+details of the work of installing a system of jury controls whereby
+the submarine's torpedoes could be fired from her control room.
+
+Keith stopped short and faced Knapp. "It won't be so one-sided this
+time, Bob," he promised. "You see: when the location chart shows the
+enemy ship, I'll rush all men into the control room, where the
+paralyzing ray can't harm them. I don't know but what they have in
+other weapons, but I'm gambling on getting my torps in first. They've
+killed Bowman; they've ravaged a whole fishing fleet; they're free to
+emerge from their hole and maraud every ocean on the globe! They've
+got to be stopped! And since I'm armed and have the only submarine on
+the spot, I've got to do it! I know how to fight them now!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Robert Knapp's sense of things was badly disordered. He had
+just heard a story which his common sense told him couldn't be true,
+but which the evidence of his eyes had grimly authenticated. He had
+seen fifteen men slung aboard his ship from the _NX-1's_ silent hull;
+men stretched in grotesque, limp attitudes; men struck down by a
+paralyzing ray. Why, no nation on earth had developed rays for
+warfare! Yet--a crew of helpless men was even then in the sick bay,
+receiving attention in the hope that they might recover.
+
+"You're going right through that cavern, then, Wells?" he asked
+incredulously. "You're going to investigate what lies beyond?"
+
+"Nothing else! And I won't come out till I've blown that octopi ship
+to pieces!"
+
+"It sounds preposterous," Knapp murmured, shaking his head. "Octopi,
+you say--and clad in metal suits! Running a submarine more powerful
+than the _NX-1_! Armed with a ray--a paralyzing ray! I can't
+believe--I can't conceive--"
+
+"You've seen the men!... Knapp, if I were you I'd swing my
+eight-inchers out, bring up the plane catapult and keep the deck
+torpedo tubes loaded and ready. It's best to be prepared; God knows
+what's going on underseas these days!"
+
+First Officer Graham appeared at the door. "Work finished, sir," he
+said. "Ready to cast off."
+
+"Thank heaven!" Wells muttered, and stretched out his hand to Robert
+Knapp. "Broadcast what I've told you, Bob, and say that the _NX-1_
+won't be back till everything's under control. I'll keep in touch with
+you. So long!" And he was gone before the captain could even wish him
+good luck.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Orders raced from her commander's fingers on the stud board in the
+control room. "Crash Dive" filled her tanks and put her nose
+perilously down, so that in thirty seconds only a swirling patch of
+water was left to show where once she'd lain. A brief command to the
+helmsman and she pointed straight for the dark cavern marked on the
+chart.
+
+When well under way, Keith descended with Graham to inspect the new
+torpedo firing system, and found it in good working order. "Graham,"
+he ordered tersely, "instruct the crew fully about rushing to the
+control room on one ring of the general alarm. And send the cook up to
+me in a minute or so. I'll be in Sparks' cubby."
+
+Above again, he instructed the radio man to rig a remote control
+sender and receiver in the insulated control room. The need for
+centering the whole crew there during engagements would crowd the room
+awkwardly, but at other times, while proceeding on their inspection of
+the cavern lair, they could remain at their regular posts.
+
+That, at least, was Wells' plan.
+
+He looked up and found the cook, McKegnie, grinning at him from the
+door of the control room. Keith smiled, running his eyes over the
+portly magnificence of his gently perspiring figure. "Keg," he said
+cheerfully, "I want you to move your hot plate and culinary apparatus
+up here; you see, we're all likely to be crowded in here for some
+time, and your coffee's going to be an absolute necessity." He
+couldn't resist a crack at McKegnie's well-known and passionate
+curiosity as to what made the thigmajigs of the control board work:
+"And besides, it'll give you a chance to observe the instruments and
+perfect yourself for your future career as a naval officer. Much
+better than a correspondence course in 'How to Be a Submarine
+Commander,' eh?"
+
+Cook McKegnie grinned sheepishly, and left. He was well used to such
+jests, but he never would admit that his extraordinary interest in
+watching the ship's wheels go round was accompanied by a miraculous
+inability to comprehend why they went round....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fifteen minutes later the helmsman's cry, "Cavern showing, sir!" swung
+the commander to the teleview screen. The dark, kelp-shrouded opening
+he knew so well was already looming on it. And he was prepared.
+
+"Enter," he said, while his punched studs ordered, "Quarter Speed,
+Ready at Posts, Tanks in Trim." The _NX-1_ slackened her gait,
+balanced cautiously, and struck a straight, even course as she crept
+closer to the cleft entrance through which, some two hours earlier,
+the octopi ship had nosed.
+
+Screws turning slowly, she edged through the jagged cavern. Shades of
+inky blackness grew on the teleview and danced in fantastic blotches;
+the screen turned to a welter of black, threatening shadows; became a
+useless maze of ever-changing forms. Keith mouthed curses as he stared
+at it; he now had nothing by which to judge his progress, to maneuver
+the submarine, save directional instruments and, perhaps, chance
+scrapings of the tunnel's ragged walls against the outer hull. The
+_NX-1_ was running a gauntlet of immeasurable danger, her only
+assurance of success being the fact that a larger craft had preceded
+her.
+
+But how far, Keith wondered, had that ship preceded her? How was he to
+know that it had gone straight through? There might be a dozen
+different turnings in this tunnel: the submarine could easily tilt
+head-on against a jagged rock and puncture her hull. There might be
+mines planted directly in their course; he might be swimming straight
+into some hideous ambuscade.
+
+He drove these thoughts from his mind. The passage had to be made on
+the fickle authority of the senses; and, realizing this, Wells took
+the helm into his own hands. Graham was posted at the location chart,
+with instructions to report the red light if it showed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Down below, the Edsel electrics were humming very softly; the men
+stood vigilantly at posts. On their brows were little beads of sweat,
+and here and there a hand clenched nervously. All knew they were in a
+tight place; otherwise they were ignorant of where their commander was
+leading them. Occasionally a long, shivering rasp ran through the ship
+as her hull nudged the rough tunnel wall. Then the course rudders
+would swing gently over; and perhaps, almost immediately, another
+grinding cry of rock and steel would come from the other side. Then
+would come quickly indrawn breaths as the rudders swung again and the
+humming silence droned on.
+
+The scrapings came quite often. Often, too, the motors would go silent
+altogether, and the _NX-1_ would rest almost motionless as her
+commander felt for an opening. It was a tense, nerve-wringing ordeal.
+The silence, the waiting, the dainty scrapings were maddening.
+
+Keith Wells' skin was prickling. He kept only fingertips on the tiny
+helm: he was playing that uncanny sixth sense of the submarine
+commander. When it misled him, the rasping rock groaned out, scarring
+the submarine's smooth skin. Generally, the tunnel was straight; but
+each time he heard his ship rub against some exterior obstruction, his
+teeth went tight--for who knew but what it might be a mine?
+
+They had penetrated perhaps a half-mile when Graham, eyes steady on
+the teleview, reported: "Light growing, sir!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells saw that the screen was filling with a soft, faintly glowing
+bluish color. The walls of the tunnel became visible, and he noted
+that they were widening out, funnel-like. He dared to increase speed
+slightly. Three minutes later he saw that the blue illumination was
+seeping from the end of the tunnel. They continued out.
+
+"Thank God, we're through!" he muttered to Graham. "You see, I was
+right! It's an underground sea--and we're at the top of it." For the
+instruments indicated a depth beneath them of roughly three miles.
+They were in, evidently, a large cavern, of vast length and depth.
+
+The _NX-1_ continued slowly forward, two pairs of eyes intent on her
+teleview screen. Keith jotted down the tunnel's position, and the
+funnel-shaped hole sank away behind their slow screws. And then, upon
+the location chart, a faint red dot suddenly glowed!
+
+It was upon them in a flash. A small tube of metal, shaped somewhat in
+the form of the big octopi submarine, had darted up from below,
+hovered a second close to them, and then, almost before they realized
+they were being surveyed, sped back into the mysterious depths from
+which it had come.
+
+"A lookout, I suppose," Keith muttered, breathing more easily.
+"Couldn't have held more than two of those creatures.... Well, the
+alarm's out, I guess, Graham, but it can't be helped. Let's see what
+it's like down below."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They plunged steadily down, then ahead. And presently there grew on
+the teleview vague forms which widened their eyes and made their
+breath come quicker. Keith had guessed the tunnel led to a
+civilization of some kind, but he was not prepared for the sight that
+loomed hazily through the soft blue water.
+
+Strange, moundlike shapes appeared far below, mounds grouped in
+orderly rows and clusters, with streets running between them, thronged
+with tiny, spidery dots. Octopi! It was, the commander realized, a
+city of the monsters--a complete city like those of surface peoples!
+For several miles in every direction the water-city spread out,
+farther than the teleview could pierce. Wells marveled at this
+separately developed civilization, this deep-buried realm of octopi
+whose unexpected intellectual powers had permitted such development.
+Perhaps, he pondered, this city was only one of many; perhaps only a
+village. He could but vaguely glimpse the queer mound buildings, but
+saw that they were of varying height and were filled with dark round
+entrance holes, through which the creatures streamed on their
+different errands....
+
+He saw no schools of fish around. "I guess they're been all killed
+off, or eaten," he commented to the wonder-struck Graham. "Probably
+the octopi have separate hatcheries where they raise them for food."
+
+"But--good Lord!" the first officer exclaimed. "A city--a city like
+ours! Down here, filled with octopi!..."
+
+"Yes," answered Wells grimly, "and this 'city' may only be a small
+settlement; there may be scores of these places. We'd better continue
+ahead now that we're here; for we've got to get all the information we
+can. I only hope these monsters haven't more than one big submarine.
+We can expect an attack any minute...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The _NX-1_ pressed on. The city dropped behind. A breathless tenseness
+had settled down over the submarine; she was proceeding with utmost
+caution, her anxious officers alert at the location chart. The great
+fear that tormented them was that they might be attacked, not by one,
+but by a fleet of the octopi ships....
+
+Then, at the rim of the chart, a red dot appeared! It grew rapidly,
+charging down on them at great speed. The spot was large; this was no
+small sentry boat! At once the alarm bell shrilled its warning; the
+crew below left their posts and raced to the control room. With sure
+mechanical fingers the emergency system gripped the valve handles and
+motor levers; Keith swung the _NX-1_ onto a level keel, straightened
+her out, and decreased speed still more. Giving the rods of the motor
+and rudder controls to Graham, he moved to the small lever which would
+unleash his bow torpedoes, and fingered it lightly. The _NX-1_ was
+ready for action.
+
+Scarcely had the men reached the small control room than the familiar
+electric charge tingled. They stared wonderingly at each other, half
+afraid. No one seemed hurt. One hand on the torpedo lever, Wells
+watched his charts and instruments. He thanked God that there was only
+one of the enemy.
+
+The ray's shock came again--and stronger. The red dot was practically
+upon them. The screen was still empty. Coolly, Keith slowed the
+submarine to a dead stop. The crimson stud came closer....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And then he saw it. It was the same fearsome, hulking form. The same
+curving windows, dark and lifeless. The same knobs on its bow, one now
+leaping and pulsing with the paralyzing glow. At a distance of a few
+hundred feet the octopi ship swerved to a halt, dousing the NX-1 with
+its ray unceasingly. Again those two underwater craft, so oddly
+contrasted, were face to face. And again the weapon that had once
+struck the American ship's crew down at their posts was directed full
+onto the _NX-1_.
+
+But it was harmless! It merely tingled, and did not paralyze! The
+control room sheathing held it out stoutly. The men's faces showed
+overwhelming relief.
+
+Keith smiled grimly. Now, at least, he had the devils where he wanted
+them; now it was his turn to strike with a--to them--terrible,
+mysterious weapon. They had attacked; had failed--and now he could
+square up for Hemmy and send a pair of torpedoes into that ship of
+hideous tentacles.
+
+"Port five!" The ship swerved slightly. "Hold even!" The enemy craft
+was very close. The _NX-1's_ bow tubes were sighted in direct line.
+Her torpedoes could not possibly miss. This time, destruction for the
+octopi ship was inevitable....
+
+Keith Wells gripped the lever that held the torps in leash.
+
+"_Wait!_"
+
+Sparks, a bare foot from him, yelled out the word. Wells, alarmed,
+released his grip on the knob. The radio operator was listening
+intently, a circle of taut faces around his crouched back. He swung
+excitedly around.
+
+"For God's sake, don't fire!" he cried. "Hemingway Bowman's on that
+submarine! He's alive--and calling for you!"
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+_The Other Weapon_
+
+Bowman--alive!
+
+Keith Wells let go the torpedo lever. His whole orderly plan of action
+was crashed in a second.--For an instant he stood gaping at the radio
+man, forgetful of the peril outside, striving desperately to hit on
+some way of surmounting this unlooked-for obstacle. The idea of firing
+on his friend--killing Hemmy Bowman with his own hand--paralyzed his
+brain.
+
+And in that unguarded instant the octopi struck.
+
+From the bow of the enemy submarine, slanting from another of its
+peculiar knobs, a narrow beam of violet light poured, cutting a vivid
+swathe across the teleview. The huddled men stared at it, not
+comprehending what it was. They felt no shock of electricity, nor
+could they discern any other harmful effect. The ray held steadily on
+their bow, not varying in the slightest, for a full thirty seconds.
+And still none of them could feel or see any damage.
+
+Wells, however, gradually became aware that he was bathed in
+perspiration, that great streams of sweat were coursing down his
+face. A quick glance told him that every member of the crew was the
+same way; and then, suddenly, he was conscious of a wave of intense
+heat--heat which quickly became terrific. The control room was
+stifling!
+
+Before he could act, the _NX-1_ slipped sharply to one side. A sharp
+hissing sound grew at her bow, climbing steadily to a shriek. Long
+streamers of white steam crept along the lower deck and seeped up into
+the control room. And then rose the fatal sound of rushing
+water--water pouring into the submarine from outside!
+
+For the violet beam was a heat ray--a weapon surface civilizations had
+not yet developed. While the _NX-1's_ crew had stared at it in the
+teleview, it had melted a hole in their bow.
+
+Immediately the submarine lost trim, and the deck tilted ominously. In
+the face of material danger--danger from a source he understood--the
+commander became cool and methodical.
+
+"Sea-suits on!" he snapped. "Then forward and break out steel
+collision-mat and weld it in place! Every man! You, too, Sparks and
+McKegnie!"
+
+"But--but, sir!" stammered Graham. "Do you want them to get us with
+their paralyzing ray?"
+
+"You'd rather drown?" Wells flung back. Silenced, the first officer
+donned his sea-suit, and in thirty seconds the rest of the crew had
+theirs on and were cluttering clumsily forward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Alone in the control room, Keith battled with the unbalancing flow of
+water, maneuvering with all his skill in a futile attempt to keep the
+_NX-1_ on even keel. The men forward worked with great speed, spurred
+on by the realization that they were fighting death itself, but even
+as they labored the submarine swung in ever increasing rolls and dips;
+the great weight of water she had shipped slopped back and forth; her
+bow went steadily down. Keith swept her forward tanks clean of water,
+always conscious of the immobile, staring octopi submarine in the
+teleview, watching them, it seemed, curiously, and not driving home
+their advantage with additional bolts of the violet heat ray.
+
+Despite her commander's frantic efforts, the _NX-1_ fluttered down
+remorselessly; the cavern floor rose, and, sinking with them, came the
+octopi craft, in slow mockery of a fighting plane pursuing its
+stricken foe to the very ground....
+
+She struck bottom with a soft, thudding jar, and settled on even keel.
+At once Wells released the helm, jumped into his own sea-suit and
+stumbled down to take command.
+
+He found the steel collision-mat in place, and the welding of it
+nearly completed. A few feathery trickles of water still seeped
+through on each side, but under his terse directions the pumps were
+soon draining it out. The weird figures of the crew in their sea-suits
+looked like creatures from another planet as they rapidly finished the
+job.
+
+"All right--up to the control room, everybody! Fast!" Wells roared.
+
+The men stumbled aft as rapidly as they could in their cumbersome
+suits. Several were already on the ladder. A few feet further--
+
+But at that moment the paralyzing ray again stabbed into the ship--and
+Keith Wells slumped helplessly to the deck. And as he crumpled, he
+glimpsed the grotesque, falling figures of his men, and saw one come
+tumbling down the ladder from the control room, where he had almost
+reached safety....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Peculiar sensations, unendurable thoughts raced through the commander
+as he lay there limply. He knew his predicament. He wanted desperately
+to rise, to rush to the control room. Time and time again in those
+first few moments of impotence he strove mightily to pull his limbs
+back to life. But his greatest efforts were barren of result, save to
+leave him feeling still weaker. The fate that he had seen strike down
+Brown now enmeshed him. He was paralyzed. Helpless. In the midst of
+his crew.
+
+After a moment all sensation left his body. His limbs might not have
+existed. Sensation, pain, lived only in his brain--and there it was
+terrible, because self-created.
+
+He found himself sprawled flat on his back, his eyes directed stiffly
+upward. He could not move them, but out of the corners he vaguely
+sensed the other figures around him. Helpless, every one! And who knew
+if they would ever come out of the spell! Victory had gone to the
+octopi....
+
+Minutes that seemed like hours passed. And then a well-remembered
+voice sounded in the radio earphones in his helmet. It was Hemmy
+Bowman, speaking from the enemy ship.
+
+"Keith! Keith Wells! Are you there?" the voice cried. "Keith! What
+have they done to you?"
+
+And Keith, he could not answer! He could not answer that troubled
+voice of his friend--that voice from a friend he had thought dead.
+
+Again Bowman spoke. "Keith! Can't you hear me? What are they doing to
+you? Oh--" For a moment it stopped, then came once more, thick with
+anguish. "Oh, God, what's happened?" Then lower: "If only there were
+light, so I could see what they're doing...." The voice tapered into
+silence. Keith could picture Hemmy, probably bound, giving him up for
+dead....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then, quite distinctly, he heard a clank at the _NX-1's_ bow! The
+submarine jerked, her bow tilted up--and with increasing speed she
+moved forward, silently as a ghost.
+
+Keith thought he knew what that meant. The octopi ship had grasped
+them with another of its hawser arms, and was pulling them away. But
+where to? One of those mound cities? His brain was a turmoil as he
+tried to imagine what was before them. But all he could do was lie
+there and wait.
+
+The American craft was towed for perhaps ten minutes--ten ages to her
+commander--then coasted slowly to a pause, and with a sharp jar
+settled into rest. As she did so, every light in her hull went
+suddenly out.
+
+It had been bad enough with the lights on, but the darkness was far
+worse. The submarine was a tomb--as silent as one, and full of men who
+lived and yet were dead. Hemmy Bowman's voice came no more to Wells.
+He was alone with his moiling doubts and fears and unanswerable
+questions, and he knew that every other man there was alone with them,
+too....
+
+As his eyes became partially accustomed to the darkness, he could
+distinguish vaguely the forms of the familiar mechanisms above him. A
+slight noise grew suddenly and resolved itself into a prolonged
+scraping along the outer hull of the submarine. At intervals it paused
+and gave way to a series of sharp, definite taps.
+
+Keith realized what those sounds signified: the octopi were striving
+to find some entrance to the _NX-1_! This, he told himself, was the
+end. The creatures would break through; water would rush in, and every
+man would drown. For the face-shields of their sea-suits were open!
+
+The dull scrapings ran completely around the motionless submarine,
+punctuated with the same staccato tappings. By the movement of the
+sound, Wells realized the octopi were approaching the lower starboard
+exit port. And as they neared that port, the noise abruptly stopped.
+
+Then for some minutes silence fell. Next, the commander heard what was
+unmistakably the exit port's water chamber being filled--and a moment
+later emptied again. The devilish creatures had solved the puzzle of
+the means of entrance!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the awful darkness the inner door of the port swung open. A slow,
+slithering sound came to Wells' ears. He sensed, though he could not
+see, the presence of alien creature. An odor struck his nostrils--that
+of fish....
+
+A deliberate something crawled directly across one outstretched arm,
+and another across his legs. And above him loomed a monstrous,
+complicated shadow, which, after a moment, slowly melted from his line
+of vision. Panicky, he strove again to bring his limbs back to life,
+but still could not....
+
+Keith knew that in the darkness which their huge unblinking eyes could
+penetrate they were inspecting the _NX-1's_ interior, examining the
+men stretched on its deck, feeling them with their cold metal-scaled
+tentacles. Another complicated shadow crept back over the commander's
+line of sight, and from all around rose the slithering, shuffling
+tread of the octopi's many tentacles, rasping on the steel flooring.
+
+Sweat from Wells' forehead trickled down and stung his eyes as he lay
+in that dark agony. There seemed to be countless investigating
+tentacles feeling through the entire submarine. One of them,
+iron-hard, suddenly coiled under his armpit and lifted him lightly as
+a feather from the deck. Another snaked up and clicked his face-shield
+securely shut. Keith heard other clicks, and knew that the shields of
+his men were likewise being closed.
+
+The commander was held straight out from the octopus' revolting body,
+and as he swung, helpless, he could see that more men were grasped
+similarly in other mighty arms. Dangling in the shadow-filled darkness
+he was carried slowly to the exit port, and he heard the inner door
+swing open, then close again. Water streamed through the valves; it
+encompassed him with a feeling of lightness, a feeling of floating, as
+he swung at the end of the long metal-sheathed tentacles. A moment
+later a soft bluish glow burst on his vision, and he saw that he was
+outside. There was a long wait, and when the current next swung him
+around he was dismayed to see that every one of the monstrous
+creatures near him was dangling on high two or three men of his
+helpless crew. The whole outfit was in the power of the devil-fish!
+
+And then their captors moved forward with them on a ghastly march of
+triumph....
+
+But Keith Wells did not know that, crouched behind the instrument
+panel in the control room, shivering and sick with fear, was the plump
+form of Cook Angus McKegnie, who had just gained it just before the
+paralyzing ray had struck.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+_The Monster with the Armlets of Gold_
+
+Hemingway Bowman's ardent wish, after he was whipped quickly through
+the round exit port of the octopi submarine, was for a quick, clean
+death. The horror and mystery of his situation had left him with one
+conscious emotion, that he was afraid. The worst had been when he was
+hauled through the port; when, expecting anything, he had been able to
+see nothing in the dark, water-filled mystery ship.
+
+Deliberate tentacles had stroked over every inch of his
+body--tentacles that were not metal-scaled, as had been the arms of
+the creature that captured him. It was then that he guessed the true
+purpose of the metal suits the octopi wore--to protect their bodies
+against the lesser pressure near the surface of the sea. Inside the
+submarine they did not need them. He decided that the ship was used
+for rapidly transporting large numbers of the octopi to distant
+regions, and also for a weapon of offense and defense. The
+intelligence of the cuttlefish astounded him.
+
+Keith had got away. At least he knew that, and he thanked God for it.
+His bold stroke had not been in vain, his sacrifice not useless.
+
+After the inspection of the tentacles, Hemmy had been shoved to a
+corner of the octopi submarine. He had felt cords wrapped around his
+body. After being thus secured, he was left to himself. He was utterly
+alone, except for strange, vague shadows that floated through the
+darkness--shadows that heated his brain as he realized how many of
+the devil-fish there were.
+
+Hours that seemed like endless days passed.
+
+Bowman concluded that the submarine had gone straight through the
+cavern and emerged finally into what seemed to be another sea. Dead
+silence filled the ship. What was happening, he could only guess. The
+craft seemed to run on forever. Never once did tentacles brush or
+inspect him again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Finally the ship stopped, and a great round door opened in one wall.
+By the soft bluish glow that seeped in Hemmy caught a glimpse of his
+surroundings, and his gorge rose at the sight. The ship was literally
+filled with a slowly waving forest of long black tentacles. Weird
+instruments, unlike anything he had ever seen, were grouped around the
+walls, and before them attendant octopi poised, their hideous eyes
+fixed and steady. There were no dividing decks as in the _NX-1_; the
+craft was one huge shell.
+
+Then came furious activity. The door fell shut again, and the ship
+shot off at great speed. Hemmy felt sure that they were advancing to
+again attack the _NX-1_, and at once began to try to reach his
+comrades through radiophone. He knew that Wells would come back.
+
+Finally he caught a human voice, and heard the _NX-1's_ radio operator
+shout to the commander that he, Bowman, was alive and calling. But
+when he tried to speak further, the American craft's radio was silent.
+
+And then, in the octopi submarine, had come a soft glow of violet....
+
+Was it a more deadly weapon than the paralyzing ray? In great suspense
+the prisoner waited. Silence--silence! Horrible doubts beset his mind.
+Was Keith refraining from firing his torpedoes because he, Bowman, was
+on board the enemy boat? The thought stung him. He tried desperately
+again to reach Wells; but there was no answer. Were the Americans
+dead?
+
+Age-long minutes passed. Then the exit port opened and several
+metal-clad octopi swam out. Hemmy had a glimpse of the _NX-1_ lying
+silent and apparently lifeless on the sea-floor, a gaping hole in her
+bow!
+
+As if to taunt him with the sight, the creatures left the round door
+open, and presently Bowman beheld the octopi open the _NX-1's_
+starboard exit port and enter. Later the port swung open again, and he
+saw the monsters emerge, each gripping several men clad in yellow
+sea-suits! That they were dead, or victims of the ray, was obvious
+from the way they limply dangled.
+
+The exit port closed, and darkness filled the octopi ship. Hemmy
+Bowman panted with the futile effort to break his bonds.
+
+"You devils!" he yelled in blind rage, exhausted. "Why don't you take
+me with them? Take me! Take me, damn your stinking hides!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Keith Wells was taken from the silent _NX-1_, a host of
+astounding impressions swarmed his brain. Swinging lightly at the end
+of his captor's tentacle, he strove as best he could, with eyes
+rigidly fixed straight ahead, to grasp his new surroundings. He had,
+first, one flash of the octopi ship lying quite close to them, its
+hulk, as always, immobile and apparently lifeless. And inside it, he
+was sure, was his friend and first officer, Hemmy Bowman--a captive.
+
+He saw that the octopi submarine had towed the _NX-1_ into one of the
+weird mound cities. His own ship was lying in what seemed a kind of
+public square, and crowds of black octopi were swarming around it as
+he and his crew were brought out. Shooting straight off the square ran
+one of the wide streets he had previously seen from above, and on each
+side the brown mound-buildings rose. Their details were hazy, because
+of the cuttlefish inhabitants who swam thickly in front of them.
+
+His captors started their march down this broad street. Great crowds
+of reddish-colored octopi clustered on each side of it; other swarms
+hung almost motionless--except for their constantly writhing
+tentacles--above, so that their line of progress was through what
+resembled a restless, living tunnel of repulsive black flesh, snaky
+arms and huge, unblinking eyes. Keith felt faint from the horror of
+it. Thousands of the monsters were there, all hanging in the soft,
+blue-glowing water; and occasionally, as he floated almost
+horizontally in his captor's firm grip, his legs would brush the wall
+of clammy flesh; or perhaps one of the tentacles would reach out as if
+to touch him.
+
+The octopus that held him swam some five feet off the street bed
+itself; at intervals the thick swarm on either side would part for a
+second, and Keith could glimpse the huge mound-buildings, ever growing
+larger, with round entrance holes dotted all over their smooth
+surface, above as well as the sides.
+
+The march was ghastly. Their captors were taking them through the
+heart of the water-metropolis; displaying their human captives as did
+the Caesars in Roman triumphs of old!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The swarming crowds of tentacled monsters grew thicker as they
+progressed, and their tentacles began to whip more quickly, as if
+anger was burning in their loathsome bodies. Keith noted the menace of
+their sharp-beaked jaws, and the sickening sucker-discs on the livid
+under-side of the tentacles. As far as he could see, the swarms fell
+in behind the procession after it had passed. Following them--where?
+
+Just as Wells felt himself on the verge of fainting, the procession
+turned to the right and entered the largest mound-building of all, a
+vast dome rising in the very center of the octopi metropolis. They
+continued through a corridor perhaps twenty feet high, from which at
+intervals other corridors branched. Held by one arm, and ever and
+again turning helplessly over in his horizontal transit, Keith caught
+glimpses of walls covered with intricate designs on a basic
+eight-armed motif--designs of artistic value, that gave evidence of
+culture and civilization.
+
+The passage ended as suddenly as it had begun, and they came into the
+main body of a gigantic building.
+
+The commander could hardly credit his eyes. The place resembled a
+stadium, and was so vast that he felt dwarfed to nothingness. The
+domed roof soared far above in misty bluish light. On the floor,
+exactly beneath the center of the great dome, was a raised platform,
+and on it a dais resembling a very wide throne. Around the dais a
+score or more of octopi--officials, Keith supposed--were grouped.
+
+Rapidly the creatures following the procession swam into the chamber.
+Monstrously large as the place was, the floor soon was filled with the
+thick flood of cuttlefish which swarmed in from many doors. Keith,
+held with the other captives just to one side of the hole he had
+entered by, began to think that they must soon refuse to let any more
+in--when, to his surprise, he saw the latest arrivals begin to form a
+gallery twenty feet above those on the ground floor, and, when this
+was extended far back and completely filled, start yet another above
+it--and another, and another.... In ten minutes the mighty hall was
+crowded with countless layers of the cold-eyed monsters, each layer
+angling up from the central dais so that all could see.
+
+"God!" the commander thought. "Nothing but solidly-packed devil-fish
+all the way to the dome! A slaughter pit! And we, of course, are to be
+the cattle!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Minutes passed. The throne was still empty, and the thousands in the
+amphitheater seemed waiting for an occupant. Keith wished he was able
+to close his eyes. The restless, never-ceasing weaving of the
+countless tentacles in the levels above made the scene a nightmare.
+Some waved slowly, others whipped excitedly, but never for an instant
+did one pause. The movements were like the never-ceasing shifting and
+swaying of the trunks and feet of elephants; in the dim glow the huge
+chamber seemed to be filled with one fantastic, million-tentacled
+monster that stared with its thousand eyes down on the forlorn group
+of puny human beings....
+
+As if at a command the arms of the octopi on the platform suddenly
+began to weave in perfect unison in some weird ceremony. First they
+swayed out towards the waiting captives, then they swerved slowly to
+the empty throne. Then came a few quick, excited whippings; and once
+more the long arms reached out at the small group at the entrance.
+This went on for some minutes. Then, very suddenly, a creature swam up
+from what must have been an opening in the floor onto the dais-throne.
+
+Keith saw it well.
+
+It was an octopus, a giant amongst octopi, and Wells knew at once it
+was the ruler of the realm, the lord and master of the swarming
+galleries and the cities of mound-buildings.
+
+It was larger than its fellows by a full three feet. And, encircling
+each great tentacle just where it joined the central mass of flesh,
+was a broad, glittering band of polished gold--eight thick armlets
+that ringed the creature's revolting head-body with a circle of
+gleaming pagan splendor. Keith could almost fancy that a certain royal
+air hung over the monster.
+
+The huge, unblinking eyes of the king stared at the horror-frozen
+captives. One long tentacle lifted slowly upward, and their captors at
+once started towards the throne with them. The score of octopi on each
+side stilled their weaving arms. A battery of emotionless eyes drilled
+into Wells' paralyzed body. He felt faint. Unquestionably the horrible
+ceremony was leading up to some form of cold-blooded sacrifice....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The monarch stretched a mighty arm towards Keith, and, as in a dream,
+he felt himself lifted out of his guard's grasp. The snakelike
+tentacle gripped him about the waist, and held him dangling like a
+puppet twenty feet in the water while the two deadly eyes stared
+steadily at him. He was brought closer, until the hideous central
+mass, with its cruel beaked jaw and ink sac hanging behind, was no
+more than a foot away.
+
+Then another arm stroked slowly along the commander's helpless body.
+Once or twice it prodded sharply, and Wells felt a surge of fear, for
+his sea-suit might break. Deliberately the prying tentacle moved over
+him, delicately feeling his helmet, his weighted feet, his legs.
+
+Keith Wells grew angry. He was being inspected like a trapped monkey!
+He, commander of the _NX-1_, representative of one of the world's
+mightiest nations--prodded and stared at by this fish, this octopus! A
+great rage suffused him, and with a terrific effort he tried to jab
+his arms into one of those devilish eyes. But try as he might, his
+body would not respond. He could not move a finger.
+
+For a long time the loathsome inspection continued, until the
+monstrous king seemed satisfied. Wells was handed back. There followed
+an interminable period in which nothing whatever was done, as far as
+he could see. He was sure that they must be talking, debating, but no
+sound reached his ears through the tight helmet. All the time the
+endless motion in the swarming levels above went on. It became hazy,
+dreamlike, and in spite of himself the commander began to feel drowsy.
+The weaving and swaying was producing a hypnotic effect. At last the
+desire to sleep grew overpowering.
+
+Wells and his men were more than half unconscious when their original
+captors finally pulled them back from the royal presence and began a
+humble retreat from the throne room. Slowly they backed to the
+entrance. Keith's last drowsy glimpse was of a grotesque, gold-ringed
+monster on a throne, with a score of smaller tentacled creatures
+around him, and a vast haze of weaving tentacles and unblinking eyes
+above.
+
+They passed from the huge chamber. The commander felt delirious, as in
+a nightmare, but he knew that they were again in the long corridor,
+and that their captors were taking them further into the mighty
+building, further from the street outside. He glimpsed great rooms
+branching off the corridor, and swarms of black octopi inside them.
+The light became fainter; and at last the procession turned into a
+separate, rough-walled chamber, dimly lit and empty.
+
+Wells felt the grip around his arm loosen, and he floated limply to
+the floor among his men. He slept....
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+_The Glass Bell Jar_
+
+Keith awoke hours later.
+
+Slowly he became conscious of a cramped, stiff body, of a dull pain
+racking his head. He stretched out his limbs--and, suddenly, realized
+he could move.
+
+Remembering the paralyzing ray that had struck him down, and half
+afraid that his senses were tricking him, he kicked his left leg out.
+It moved with its old vigor. He quickly found that his strength had
+returned, that he could feel and move. The effect of the ray had worn
+off!
+
+With a glow of new hope he rose to his feet and exercised numb
+muscles. Looking around, he saw the other men still stretched out on
+the floor of their rough-walled, watery prison. He called into his
+radiophone mouthpiece:
+
+"Graham! Graham, wake up!" A grotesque figure stirred among its
+fellows; turned over. "It's Wells, Graham," Keith continued. "Get up;
+you can, now!" And he watched the form of his big first officer
+stretch out and finally rise, while stupid, sleepy sounds came to his
+radio receiver.
+
+"Why--why; the paralysis is gone!" Graham said at length.
+
+"Yes, but maybe the octopi don't know it. Rouse the other men at once,
+and we'll see what we can do."
+
+It was weird, the sight of the lifeless figures of the men stirring to
+life in the dim-lit water as Graham shook each one's shoulder. The
+radiophones buzzed and clicked with their excited comments and
+ejaculations. Keith felt much better. With his men restored to
+strength, and clustered in a determined, hard-fighting mass, he saw a
+hope of breaking out and regaining the _NX-1_.
+
+He let them exercise as he had for some minutes, then proceeded to a
+brisk roll-call. There should be fifteen men and two officers. Rapidly
+Graham ran over the names, and each time a voice rang back in
+reply--until he came to the cook.
+
+"McKegnie?... Cook McKegnie?"
+
+There was no answer. Wells stared around the group of dim figures and
+himself called the name again. But McKegnie was not present. And as
+the commander and his men realized it the numbing spell of their
+desperate position settled down on them again like a shroud.
+
+Keith shook off the mood. "Well," he muttered, "I guess the devils got
+him. Poor McKegnie's seen the wheels go round for the last time....
+All right: take command, Graham. I'm going to do a little
+reconnoitering."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The round entrance hole was some fifteen feet from him, at the far end
+of the cell. Keith advanced cautiously to it, the peculiar light
+feeling the water gave him making his steps uncertain. The dim blue
+illumination made the details of the corridor outside hazy, shadowy,
+but it seemed to be empty. Peering out, Wells could sight no guarding
+octopi. He edged closer and stared down to the left. Twenty feet away
+the vague light tapered into darker gloom, filled with thick, wavering
+shadows; but it was apparently devoid of tentacles. He wondered if
+the octopi were unaware that the effects of their ray had worn off,
+and peeped cautiously around the edge to the right.
+
+Immediately a long arm whipped out, grasped him around the waist and
+flung him twisting and turning back into the chamber. Graham
+laboriously made his way to the commander and helped him to his feet.
+"Hurt, sir?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"No," Keith gasped. "But that devil--"
+
+He stopped short. The first officer turned and followed his
+commander's stare.
+
+The entrance hole of the cell had filled with a monstrous shape. A
+huge octopus was resting there, its unblinking eyes coldly surveying
+the crew of the _NX-1_. On each of its thick tentacles was a broad
+band of polished gold. It was the king, the same creature that had
+inspected them from the throne-dais a few hours before. And behind him
+in the corridor the men glimpsed another octopus.
+
+Slowly the ruler of the octopi swam into the chamber. Its great eyes
+centered icily on Keith Wells, standing at the head of his cowering
+men; and its mighty tentacles waved slowly, gracefully, as if the
+creature stood in doubt. One of them tentatively reached out and
+hovered over their heads, moving uncertainly back and forth. Then,
+like a monstrous water snake, the tentacle poised, flicked out and
+plucked a man from his comrades.
+
+His shriek of terror rasped in their earphones. "Steady, men!" Keith
+cried. "It's hopeless to try and fight them! The monster just wants to
+look him over!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The man--Williams, a petty officer--was dangled by the armpit in
+mid-water and made to slowly revolve. The tip of another huge arm
+snaked out and for some seconds stroked his body, probing curiously.
+He panted with fright, and in their earphones his friends could hear
+his every tortured exhalation. Anxiously, Keith watched. Then,
+without warning, another tentacle darted up, fastened its tip on the
+breast of the captive's sea-suit, and deliberately ripped it open.
+
+The doomed man's last scream rang in their helmets as the water poured
+into his suit. They saw him writhe and struggle desperately in the
+remorseless grip which held him. The two huge eyes of the cuttlefish
+surveyed his death throes minutely; watched his agonized struggles
+gradually weaken; watched his legs and arms relax, his head sink
+lower.... And then the tentacle let a lifeless body float to the
+floor.
+
+Jennerby, a huge engineer, went completely mad. "I'll get him, the
+devil!" he yelled, and before Keith could command him to stay back,
+had flung himself onto the giant king.
+
+Death came as a mere matter of course. Without apparent effort, the
+monarch ripped off Jennerby's helmet and sent him spinning back. The
+man's body writhed and shuddered, and in a moment another stark white
+face showed where death had struck....
+
+Trembling, sick at heart, the commander yet had to think of his men.
+"For God's sake," he cautioned them, "keep back. Don't try to fight
+now; we've got to wait our chance! Steady. Steady...."
+
+The king's deliberate tentacle again began its slow weaving. It was
+choosing another victim. And this time it darted straight out at Keith
+Wells and gripped him with a mighty clutch about the waist.
+
+The commander did not cry out. As he was brought close to the staring
+eyes, and felt their sinister gaze run over him, it flashed through
+him for some obscure reason that the monster knew him for what he was,
+the leader, from the tiny bars on each shoulder of his sea-suit.... He
+waited for the tentacles to rip it open.
+
+But they did not. Instead, the creature turned and swiftly swam with
+him out through the entrance hole.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They went to the left in the corridor, further into the heart of the
+building. The bluish light became stronger. As Keith twisted in the
+giant monarch's grip he glimpsed the other octopus following with the
+two dead men. He saved his strength knowing it was hopeless just then
+to try and struggle free.
+
+Quick as was his passage, he noticed that the walls of the corridor
+were covered with intricate designs, in bas-relief, and colored. He
+passed row after row of mural paintings of octopi in various
+activities, and guessed that they represented the race's history. One
+was obviously a scene of battle, with a tentacled army locked in
+combat with another strange horde of fishlike creatures; a second
+showed the construction of the queer mound-buildings on the sea-floor,
+with scores of monsters hauling great chunks of material into place,
+and another pictured the huge audience chamber, with a gold-banded
+king motionless on his throne.
+
+As the king drew him rapidly along, he had a glimpse through a
+circular doorway of a large room, inside which were clustered the
+black shapes of thousands of baby octopi, tended by what were
+evidently nurses. Other such rooms were passed, and the young
+commander's brain whirled as he tried to measure the size and progress
+of this undersea civilization. Perhaps the race of octopi was growing,
+reaching out; needed new room to colonize. That would explain why
+their submarine had been sent through the tunnel....
+
+A voice sounded in his ears:
+
+"Keith? Are you all right?" It was Graham, calling from the cell
+behind.
+
+"So far," Wells assured him. "I'll keep in touch, and let you know
+what happens."
+
+At that moment, his captor carried him into a large chamber at the end
+of the corridor. He looked around, and decided it was a laboratory. He
+beheld strange instruments, anatomical charts of octopi on the walls
+and, in one corner, a small jar of glass, in which a dull flame was
+burning. Many-shaped keen-bladed knives lay on various low tables, and
+thin, wicked-looking prongs and pincers.
+
+"I'm in their experimental laboratory, Graham," Wells spoke into the
+mouthpiece of his tiny radio. And then his roving eyes saw something
+that made him audibly gasp.
+
+"What's the matter, Keith?" came the first officer's anxious voice.
+
+After a moment the commander answered. "It's--it's a pile of human
+bodies. The bodies of those fishermen. They--they've been
+experimenting on them...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Was he, too, Wells wondered, to be experimented on? The sight of that
+stacked pile of bodies chilled him with horror. He kept his eyes from
+them, till the octopus with the golden bands swung him through a
+hinged door in the farther wall.
+
+He found himself in a side room, smaller than the outer chamber, the
+whole center of which was occupied by a huge glass bell jar, some
+thirty feet in diameter. Inside it was much strange-looking apparatus
+on tables, and trays of operating instruments--knives like those in
+the outer room, and the same thin prongs. The great jar was empty of
+water, and on one side was an entrance port.
+
+The king tossed Keith into a corner and quickly donned a metal-scaled
+water-suit. When he had it all on, and the glass body-container
+fastened into place, he picked up his captive again and advanced
+through the bell jar's entrance port into a small water chamber. A
+moment later Wells felt his body grow heavy as the water of the
+compartment ran out, and then there was a click and he found himself
+inside the jar, still held in the merciless grip of a tentacle.
+
+He twisted around to find the cold eyes of the octopus staring at him
+only a foot away. And as he wondered what was going to happen next,
+the king unfastened the glass face-shield of the commander's sea-suit
+with a quick flip of the tip of a tentacle.
+
+Keith's arms were pinned to his sides; he could not move to try to
+refasten the face-shield. Fearful, he held his breath; held it until
+his face was purple and his lungs were near to bursting. But at last
+the limit was reached, and with a great wrench he sucked in a full
+breath.
+
+It was clean, fresh air!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The air was like a breath of his own world brought down to this cold
+realm of octopi. Once he had caught up with his breathing it poured
+new life into his limbs, jaded from the artificial air of the
+sea-suit. Keith felt his muscles respond, felt his whole body glow
+with new strength and life. Twelve inches away the king was watching
+his every reaction closely through the huge helmet of glass. The
+thought passed through the commander's mind that he was not only king,
+but chief scientist of this strange water civilization.
+
+Then, while his lungs swallowed hungrily the good, fresh air, several
+tentacles began to feel around him in an attempt to unfasten the rest
+of his sea-suit.
+
+Wells blanched at the sudden realization of how helpless he would be
+if the suit were taken from him. He would then not only be a prisoner
+of the octopi, but a prisoner of the glass jar, unable ever to leave
+it, and more than ever at the mercy of his captor's least whim. Not
+that he had any delusion that he would live long in any case: it was
+just the simple strong instinct of self-preservation that made him
+grab at every chance for life.
+
+This thought flashed through his mind, even while the octopus was
+fumbling with the catches of his suit. And along with it was born a
+desperate plan of escape. He was in his own element, air; the octopus
+out of his. If he could crack the glass of the king's helmet, and let
+the water out and air in!... The glass was only twelve inches away.
+
+The commander stopped his resistance, and at the same time felt about
+with his legs until he had them well braced against a lower tentacle.
+He pushed gently, and came a few inches nearer the glass; a little
+more. Then, with a quick, strong jerk of his body he crashed the steel
+frame of his helmet square against the cuttlefish's sheathing of
+glass.
+
+The creature was taken wholly by surprise. Tentacles whipped out to
+tear the rash human quickly away--but not before Keith had pounded
+again, and heard the splinter of smashed glass! He had jabbed a hole
+in the glass body-piece, and already the life-giving water was pouring
+out!
+
+Panic seized the king, and he became a nightmare of tortured
+tentacles. Wells was flung wildly away and fetched up against the side
+of the jar with a crash that for a second stunned him. More and more
+water poured from the octopus' suit, and air at once rushed in to take
+its place. The creature's great eyes became filmy, while the revolting
+spidery body slewed here and there across the jar, all the time
+whipping and thrashing at the strangling air. Keith scurried from side
+to side, trying to keep out of reach of the crazy, writhing tentacles.
+Once a glancing blow knocked him flat, but the monster was altogether
+unconscious of him and he got away.
+
+Little by little the terrific whipping and coiling of the tentacles
+quieted down. The drowning king lay in one place now; its loathsome
+red body, no longer protected by glass, turned bluish. Keith thrilled
+with elation at his victory.
+
+And then, for the first time, he noticed that there was a full three
+inches of water on the floor--far too much to spill from the king's
+suit. A quick look around showed him where it came from. There was a
+long crack in the side of the glass jar, at the place where he had
+been crashed against it--and water was pouring in!
+
+Keith flung himself against the crack, jammed his arm into the
+broadest part of the leak. But still the water rushed in. The octopus
+was in its death throes, weakening steadily--but just as steadily the
+water poured in and rose up the sides of its body. In a flash Wells
+saw that the liquid would win the race to cover it and allow the
+monster to resume breathing.
+
+"Oh, damn it!" he cursed fervently. "Now I've got to run for it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He stumbled to the port, snapping shut his face-shield as he went. In
+a moment he had solved the working of the mechanism and was in the
+water chamber, then outside in the room itself. Fortunately his
+sea-suit was unhurt. He thanked heaven for that as he tore away a
+boardlike piece of apparatus and jammed it over the leak in the jar.
+
+Keith paused a moment to plan. The king of the octopi was still
+writhing in ever weakening struggles, but the water was halfway up his
+body. "It'll cover him soon," thought the commander, "and then it's a
+question how long it'll take him to come to. I've got to move
+fast--slip out into the corridor and run the gauntlet back to the
+men." His eyes rested on a large knife, and he appropriated it, since
+he saw nothing else he might use.
+
+For the first time since the beginning of the fight he answered the
+questions and exclamations that had constantly sounded in his ears
+from the distant crew. Tersely he told them what had happened, and of
+the gauntlet he had to run.
+
+"Make ready for a dash to the _NX-1_," he finished. "It's now or
+never. Wait three minutes for me, and if I don't make it, go ahead
+anyway. Remember--three minutes. This is an order. So long, fellows!"
+
+He shut his ears to the bedlam of comment that followed. His knife
+ready, he took a few steps to the door and pushed out--right into the
+tentacles of a waiting octopus.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His knife was useless. While locked motionless by three arms of his
+captor, another streaked out and wrenched it from his hand. Once again
+Keith was absolutely helpless.
+
+Great confusion resulted in the laboratory. The commander heard no
+sound, but the guard must have called, for five more octopi darted
+rapidly out of an adjoining room. Their tentacles writhing in great
+excitement, they swam past and into the inner chamber to the rescue of
+their nearly drowned king.
+
+The devil-fish that held Wells almost crushed him to death in its
+excitement. It was obviously undecided what to do; but finally it sped
+him down the passageway and cast him back inside the cell with his
+men. Then it quickly retreated.
+
+The commander staggered to his feet and faced Graham and the others.
+"A miracle!" he gasped; "I'll tell you later. But now we've got to
+make our break. The king's out, and we've got to get away before they
+bring him to. There's nothing to do but rush the door. It means sure
+death for half of us, and probably for all--but God help us if the
+king catches us!"
+
+He paused and surveyed them keenly. "Everybody with me?" he asked. And
+not one man held back his answer.
+
+Wells smiled a little. "Good!" he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were twelve men and two officers. There were thousands of
+octopi. On the face of it, their chances seemed hopeless. Not for a
+second did Keith count on getting many men to the _NX-1._ But he knew
+where the submarine was, and he had to try.
+
+Tersely he gave them final instructions.
+
+"This corridor leads to the main entrance. That is, to the
+right--understand? Then straight down the street outside, to the left,
+is the square where they towed the _NX-1._ I'd say it was a hundred
+yards.
+
+"There's one guard outside. Graham, you and half the men to the right
+of the door. I'll take the rest to the left. Our only chance is to try
+and destroy the octopus' eyes."
+
+His mind cast about desperately for some form of weapon. The only
+detachable thing on their sea-suits was the small helmet-light, a
+thing, Keith told himself, without possible offensive use. Still, the
+beams would enable them to more clearly see their path and keep
+together, so he ordered them in hand.
+
+The men were grouped and alert. The moment had come.
+
+"Remember," he said, "--its eyes. Then stick together and run like
+hell. All right--good luck--and let's go!"
+
+Awkwardly, stumbling clumsily in the retarding water, the small group
+surged through the door. Immediately a black shape pounced upon them
+from the clustered shadows--the guarding octopus.
+
+Its tentacles seemed to be everywhere. In seconds five men were
+clutched in its awful grip, their fists rising and falling impotently
+as the hideous arms constricted and crushed them inward. Keith, free
+of the clasp, yelled: "The eyes! The eyes! Put out its eyes!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For answer, a yellow arm clutching a helmet-light broke through the
+grotesquely milling mass and struck at the cuttlefish's great pools of
+eyes. It missed, but the switch flicked on, and there stabbed through
+the gloom a broad, glaringly white ray.
+
+Its effect was astounding. The beam smote the octopus squarely in its
+huge eyes, and immediately the creature shuddered; writhed with pain.
+The tentacles released the men--and the monster fled back into the
+protecting shadows!
+
+A shout from the men roared in the commander's earphones. "They can't
+stand the light!" he cried. "Thank God! Beams on, everyone! Flash 'em
+in their eyes! Forward!"
+
+Fourteen shafts of eye-dazzling light forked through the corridor.
+The tiny company, beating their path with criss-crossing shafts of
+white, forged ahead. They thrashed the shadows with their beams,
+probing each inch of water--clearing their way even as a tank hoses
+machine-gun bullets before its clumsy body. Their former slender
+chance grew; they filled with hope.
+
+Another swarm of devil-fish, long arms whipping before them, raced
+from branching corridors and bore down on the company of humans. The
+men were ready, and fourteen tongues of white met them squarely. They
+faltered; the weight of their fellows behind shoved them on; but the
+rays steadied, and the front row of octopi broke in panic. The others
+at once followed in wild retreat.
+
+"Keep together, men!" Keith ordered sharply. "One beam to each
+octopus--straight in its eyes till it retreats! Forward!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They pressed on. The octopi, with eyes used only to the soft blue glow
+of the cavern, could not stand against the brilliant rays. Keith
+leading, the _NX-1's_ crew stumbled out into the street.
+
+They faltered a moment when they saw each entrance hole of the
+mound-buildings shooting out streams of octopi. Hundreds were in sight
+already. The whole city was evidently alarmed. Wells at once formed
+his men in a circle, so their beams would guard them on every side and
+above. Apparently the octopi could not approach within thirty feet of
+them, and even at that distance they turned and fled, writhing with
+pain, whenever a shaft of light struck full in their eyes.
+
+"The square's just ahead!" the commander roared. "One last rush, now,
+and we'll reach the submarine! Stick close; keep your arms locked; and
+watch out above!"
+
+The circle of men narrowed. The rays gave their tiny cluster the
+appearance of a monster even more fantastic than those moiling around
+them--a monster with long straight tentacles of glaring white. They
+stumbled forward through the magically parting ranks of black octopi.
+The beams kept the creatures back; they were helpless before them.
+
+Foot by foot under the inverted bowl of threshing tentacles the
+_NX-1's_ crew lumbered ahead. The street at last ceased; the wide
+square opened before them.
+
+"We're here!" Wells yelled exultantly. "This is the--"
+
+His voice fell into abrupt silence. He stared around the square, and
+his heart went cold indeed. They had reached the right place, but it
+was empty.
+
+The _NX-1_ was not there!
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+_Cook, the Navigator_
+
+Through all these hours, one man had remained on the _NX-1_, and that
+man was, to put it mildly, scared to death.
+
+Cook Angus McKegnie had been nearest the connecting ladder when Keith
+Wells roared out the command to retreat above, and his desire to
+regain a place of safety was so earnest that he made the control room
+in record time. At once he had felt the tingle of the paralyzing ray.
+Struck by a horrible thought, he ventured to peer down the ladder--and
+groaned to see the figures of his comrades, all lying limply on the
+deck. His portly frame quivered like jelly as realization came to him
+that he was the only one who had escaped the ray.
+
+Heroic ideas of saving the submarine, of rescuing the men below,
+flashed wildly through his head. But only for a moment. On second
+thought, he felt he ought to hide. So, in the tomblike silence that
+had fallen, the two-hundred-and-twenty-pound McKegnie wormed a way
+behind an instrument panel, effecting the journey by vigorous shoves
+of his stomach. It was minutes later that he first noticed that some
+sharp jutting object was jutting deep into his ample paunch, but he
+could do nothing to remedy it. He was hidden, anyway, and he was going
+to stay hidden!
+
+The cook felt the _NX-1_ being towed forward. Then, after a dreadful
+wait, he heard queer noises down below, and was positive the exit
+ports had opened. The snakelike slithering and shuffling which
+followed would mean that the enemy was inside the _NX-1._ The thought
+brought St. Vitus' dance to his limbs, and, try as he might, he
+couldn't still them. Then again the ports opened, the gloomy silence
+returned, and Angus McKegnie was alone with his reflections.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After the first hour he gave voice to them in one simple, bitter
+sentence. "Just why the hell," he muttered, "did I ever join the
+Navy?" The silence offered no reply, and McKegnie, desperate from his
+cramped position, ventured to poke his head around the instrument
+panel. The faint emergency lights showed the control room to be empty.
+He decided to come out, and did so, worming his way back with great
+difficulty.
+
+Once out, the first thing his eyes fell on was the teleview screen.
+Now the cook had never seen one of the octopi, and the screen showed
+hundreds of monsters clustering around the _NX-1._ So with unusual
+promptness he acted, jamming himself once again into his hiding place.
+Maybe, he thought, they had some way in which they could see into the
+control room and discover him!
+
+Hours passed. The cook was sopping with sweat. Finally his thoughts
+emerged into words.
+
+"I got to get out of here!" he said intensely. "I _got_ to! And I got
+to run this submarine!"
+
+The sound of his voice somehow emboldened him. Once more he backed out
+of his cranny, and with cautious, trembling steps explored the control
+room. He kept his eyes from the teleview, though it had a terrible
+fascination for him, and surveyed the _NX-1's_ array of control
+instruments. The prospective navigator groaned at the sight.
+
+There were dozens of mysterious wheels, jutting from every possible
+angle, squads of black and red-handled levers, whole armies of queer
+little stud-buttons and dials. His knowledge of cooking helped him not
+at all in the presence of that maze of devices. Timidly he touched one
+of the levers, but immediately snatched his hand away as if afraid it
+would bite. His boldly announced purpose of running the craft went
+glimmering.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An accidental glimpse of the monsters in the teleview suddenly decided
+him that he needed a weapon. He hunted frantically through the lockers
+and found three service revolvers, which he fastened at his waist,
+adding his own carving knife to the arsenal. But he didn't feel much
+better. Then, remembering for the first time his sea-suit radio, he
+yelled: "Mr. Wells! Mr. Wells! Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you? Can you
+hear me?" There was, of course, no answer.
+
+He tried to bring his muddled thoughts and fears to order. "I got to
+run this thing," he said doggedly. "_Got_ to! Now, let's see: what the
+hell's this thing for?... What the--"
+
+He broke off short, and his eyes went wide. He had heard a noise!
+
+Yes--there it was again! The same peculiar scraping at one of the exit
+ports! He glanced fearfully at the teleview. "Oh, Lord!" he yelped.
+"They're comin' in to get me!"
+
+He started to dive back behind the instrument panel, but stopped, drew
+two guns, and in an agonized muddle trotted back and forth for a
+moment, waving them. Another look at the screen showed that an exit
+port was open, admitting two metal-scaled octopi. McKegnie couldn't
+stand it any longer: he wedged himself behind his panel again. Soon
+sounds of the metal tentacles on the deck below told him that one of
+the creatures was coming up the ramp--then slithering into the control
+room itself. The cook was a lather of cold perspiration.
+
+For a few minutes there was silence. The octopus was apparently
+surveying this new part of the submarine. Then, without warning, the
+tip of a metal-scaled tentacle felt around the panel and crept,
+exploring, up Angus McKegnie's leg--which leg was again suddenly
+afflicted with St. Vitus' dance. The tentacles coiled, pulled
+hard--and the cook with a yowl was yanked out into the room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dangling upside down, high in the air, he submitted to the fishy stare
+of the great eyes under the sheathing of glass. But soon he started to
+squirm, and his violent contortions brought a rush of blood to his
+head, making him quite dizzy. It was while he was in that state that
+things started to happen.
+
+First, a great roar rolled through the _NX-1_, and McKegnie found
+himself flat on the floor with his breath knocked out. Then, while
+this was registering on his mind, he discovered himself the center of
+a madly milling set of tentacles, and instinctively scrambled out of
+the way. From a distance he saw that the tentacles belonged to the
+octopus that had held him, and that their coilings and threshings were
+gradually dying down, until only a quiver ran through them from time
+to time. While McKegnie was trying to figure this all out he noticed
+that the monster's glass sheeting was shattered, that it lay in a pool
+of water, and that the odor of burnt powder was in the air. Looking
+down he found that he had a gun in his hand. A thin wisp of smoke was
+curling from the barrel.
+
+"Gee whiz!" he ejaculated. "Gee _whiz_!"
+
+As he stood there recovering from his surprise, he heard the other
+octopus crawling up the connecting ramp, coming to see what had
+befallen its fellow. Preceded by two trembling guns, McKegnie tiptoed
+to the ramp and peered down.
+
+From the darkness he saw another complicated mass of metal tentacles
+and glass advancing up towards him. Fear smote the cook, and almost
+without volition be pointed his guns and pulled the triggers. As
+before, a bullet crashed into the great dome of glass, and he watched
+a short but terrible death struggle. He had, by himself, slain two
+octopi!
+
+A tremendous elation filled McKegnie--until it occurred to him that
+his shots might have been heard outside. At once he ran and looked at
+the teleview view screen, and what he saw on its silver surface took
+all the triumph abruptly out of him. The octopi outside were darting
+about with alarming activity; a whole cluster of them was centered at
+the exit port, and, even as the cook stared, the preliminary sounds of
+opening it came to his ears.
+
+"Now I _got_ to run this ship!" he groaned.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He peered at the mass of levers and wheels, put out a hand, closed his
+eyes, hesitated, and pulled one of them back. Nothing happened.
+
+He tried another. The noise below grew, but still the _NX-1_ remained
+motionless. Desperate, the cook jerked several other levers. The whine
+of electric motors surged through the silence; the submarine shuddered
+and slewed off to the right, as if trying to dig into the sea-floor.
+
+"I got it started!" he cried. He did something else. The _NX-1_ stuck
+her bow dizzily up and sped into the misty-blue realm above in a
+grand, sweeping circle. The sea-floor with its mound-buildings and
+swarming octopi fell away behind with a rush.
+
+"There!" muttered the triumphant cook. "But--how did I do it?"
+
+The submarine was rising like a sky-rocket. McKegnie remembered
+suddenly that Wells had said the cavern was only a few miles high; he
+must now be very near the top. He held his breath while he pushed a
+likely looking lever the other way.
+
+He was lucky. The _NX-1_ capered like a two-year-old, kicked up her
+stern and bolted eagerly for the depths once more. Again the floor of
+the cavern rushed up at him, again he pulled the potent lever back,
+and again the submarine meteored upward.
+
+This procedure went on for some time. McKegnie was only running an
+elevator. Was he doomed to dash up and down between floor and ceiling
+forever? He gave forth pints of sweat, now and then groaning as the
+submarine grazed horribly close to top or bottom. The dead octopus at
+his feet slithered limply around on the crazy-angling deck.
+
+"I can't keep this up forever!" the cook said peevishly. "Now, what
+the hell's this thing for?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He turned it, and the _NX-1_ tilted in one of her dives and raced
+forward, midway between ceiling and floor. Her navigator relaxed
+slightly. He had found the major controls; at least he had been able
+to stop his dizzy game of plunging up and down. Then, just as he was
+beginning to wonder where he could go, a large red spot glowed at the
+edge of the location chart.
+
+"Oh, Lord!" he cried. "That's the other submarine--an' it's comin'
+after me!"
+
+Evidently it was, for the red spot rapidly approached the green one.
+The paralyzing ray tingled, and a moment later the enemy's huge bulk
+loomed on the teleview screen, a band of violet light spearing from
+one of her jutting knobs.
+
+Frantically McKegnie juggled his levers, and then it was that the
+_NX-1_ really showed what was in her. She emulated, on a grand scale,
+a bucking bronco: she stood almost on her nose, and threatened to
+describe somersaults; she tried it the other way, on her stern; she
+rolled dizzily; she all but looped the loop, and went staggering
+around the cavern in great erratic bounds that must have made the
+octopi think she was in the hands of a mad-man--which she practically
+was. Her designer would have had heart failure.
+
+In the teleview screen the frantic McKegnie would see the octopi
+submarine rush erratically by with a flash of its violet heat ray; the
+location chart showed the red spot zigzagging drunkenly around the
+green one. Each boat made occasional short, crazy darts at the other;
+sometimes they would stand approximately still. It was a riotous game
+of tag, and McKegnie knew too well that he was "it."
+
+During one brief pause the anguished cook found himself groaning
+aloud: "Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you? I can't keep this up! I can't! I
+can't!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were still several important-looking controls that were
+mysteries to him. But what if he should pull one and open all the exit
+ports? He shuddered at the thought.
+
+Things had become nightmarish. The ship was pitted scores of places by
+the heat ray. The control room had grown stifling. McKegnie was losing
+pounds of flesh, and literally stood in a pool of his own
+perspiration. The octopi craft kept doggedly after the _NX-1_, no
+matter how often and effectually the sweating cook's reckless hands
+prevented her getting the heat ray home.
+
+For a long time the two ships continued to race up and down. The
+_NX-1_ would plunge, pirouette around the other, and scamper away
+towards the ceiling as if enjoying it all hugely, abruptly to forsake
+her course and come zooming down once more. She would weave in romping
+circles and seem to go utterly crazy as her jumbled navigator pulled
+his levers and turned his wheels in a frantic effort to get somewhere.
+
+To get somewhere! Yes--but where?
+
+"Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you?" the harried cook would bleat at
+intervals.
+
+Or, plaintively: "Now, what the hell's _this_ thing for?"
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+_At Bay_
+
+Fourteen humans stood at bay on the cold sea-floor, dazed by the
+ruthless stroke of ill-luck which had taken the _NX-1_ from where they
+had left it.
+
+"It's gone," whispered Graham over and over in a hopeless tone. Keith
+tried to pull himself together. He had to think of his men.
+
+In a second, his whole plan, which had seemed to be approaching
+success so rapidly, was smashed by the disappearance of the submarine.
+Mechanically he kept his helmet-light playing into the ever-thickening
+eyes and tentacles around him, while he scanned the sea-floor nearby.
+It was filling more closely than ever with the black, writhing forms
+of the cuttlefish. The rays still held them back, but their great bulk
+loomed over the small party of humans like a sinister storm cloud.
+Soon, in their overwhelming mass, they would crush down, and the
+submarine's crew be conquered by sheer force of numbers.
+
+"Look!" Keith cried. "There's where she was lying!"
+
+He pointed out on the floor of the square a deep groove, obviously
+made by the hull of the _NX-1_. Its length and jaggedness seemed to
+denote that the submarine had tried to bore into the bed of the cavern
+itself. Wells was mystified. If the octopi-ship had towed her away,
+she would certainly not have gouged that deep scar on the sea
+bottom....
+
+But he dismissed the strange disappearance from his mind. He had to
+work out a plan of action.
+
+"Keep together, men, and follow that scar!" he ordered tersely.
+"There's a chance that the _NX-1's_ somewhere further along!"
+
+It was a futile hope, he knew--but there was nothing else. The tiny
+group, centered in the inverted bowl of black, writhing tentacles,
+lumbered onward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then the octopi struck with another weapon, in an effort to dull the
+spearing beams of white. Here and there from the mass of black an even
+blacker cloud began to emerge. It quickly settled over the whole
+scene, pervading it with a pitchy, clinging darkness that obscured
+each man from his neighbor.
+
+"Ink!" cried one of them. It was sepia from the cuttlefish's ink
+sacs--the weapon with which these monsters of the underseas blind and
+confuse their victims.
+
+"Faster!" the commander roared in answer. "And for heaven's sake, keep
+together!"
+
+They huddled closer. Under the protecting cloud of ink the mass of
+octopi pressed nearer. The struggle became fantastic, unreal, as the
+brilliant beams of white bored through the utter blackness searching
+for eyes which the men knew were there, yet could not see until their
+rays chanced upon them. Snaky shadows milled horribly close to the
+little group of bulging yellow figures. Blacker and blacker grew the
+water; they could not always see the monsters as they drove them back
+on each side. Now and then a bold tentacle actually touched one of
+them for a moment before its owner was thrust, blinded, away.
+
+Suddenly the dark cloud cleared a little as the fight moved into an
+unseen current. Their range of vision lengthened to ten or twelve
+feet; they could dimly sense the looming mass of cuttlefish: and it
+was less often that one of the monsters darted forward, daring the
+rays of white, and became altogether visible. When this did happen,
+half a dozen dazzling beams converged on the octopus' eyes and drove
+it back in writhing agony.
+
+The men were the hub of a grotesque cartwheel, whose spokes were
+inter-crossing rays of white. They still forged onward along the
+groove, but moved more slowly now, and Keith Wells, tired to death,
+realized the combat could not go on much longer. Their advance was
+useless; a mere jest. The _NX-1_ had vanished. It would only be a
+question of time before their batteries gave out, or the swarms of
+octopi crushed in on the struggling crew. Their overwhelming numbers
+would tell in the end.... The men were silent, except for the
+occasional gasps which came from their laboring lungs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And then the king of the octopi appeared.
+
+Keith had been wondering, in the aching turmoil that was his brain,
+where the gold-banded monarch was. He knew the monster had been
+rescued, and he dreaded coming face to face once more with that huge
+form. Now, armlets of glittering yellow suddenly flashed in the thick
+of the besieging tentacles, and two great evil eyes glared for a
+second at Keith Wells. The commander flung a burst of light at them
+and laughed crazily as the monster scurried back. For a few moments
+the king was not visible.
+
+"Well, fellows," Wells said, "it won't be long now. His Majesty's back
+on the field." He grinned a little through his weary face. "I wonder
+what he'll hatch up to combat our helmet-lights? Watch close: he's
+damn clever!"
+
+The commander did not have long to wonder. The vague wall of tentacles
+began retreating deeper into the ink. Keith could not imagine the
+reason for it, but held himself taut and ready. His men, likewise
+noting the move, unconsciously grouped closer, waiting tensely for
+they knew not what.
+
+The king of the octopi had indeed hatched a plan of attack. After a
+moment the mass of creatures again became slowly visible, but this
+time when the rays shot out they did not hold them back. Could
+not--for their eyes were not visible.
+
+"My God!" Wells cried. "They're coming backwards!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was so. The octopi--no doubt under their ruler's orders--had turned
+themselves around, and now, with eyes directly away from the dazzling
+shafts of white, were closing slowly in on the humans from all sides.
+The helmet-lights were useless. They could not reach the creatures'
+eyes.
+
+Tentacles coiling, whipping, interweaving, the wall of flesh pressed
+in. Death stared the helpless crew of the _NX-1_ in the face. First
+Officer Graham shrugged his shoulders and said tiredly:
+
+"Well, I guess it's all over.... Unless," he added with a feeble
+smile, "somebody figures a way to melt us through the sea-floor...."
+
+Keith Wells' face suddenly lit up with an idea. He swung around and
+roared:
+
+"The hell it's over! We can go _up_!"
+
+His crew understood at once. "What fools we--" Graham began, but Keith
+cut him short.
+
+"Listen," he rapped quickly. "Jam together in one bunch and lock arms
+tight. When I give the word, flood your suits with air. We'll go up
+like comets; crash right through the devils.... Hurry!... All ready?"
+
+He saw that they were. "Then, together--go!" he commanded.
+
+As one man the crew adjusted their air-controls, bulging the sea-suits
+with air. Their weighted feet left the cavern floor at once, and,
+locked tightly together, the whole fourteen of them shot like a bullet
+to the living ceiling of unsuspecting cuttlefish above.
+
+They hit with a terrific crash. Keith was momentarily stunned by the
+force of impact. He felt himself torn away from his men, felt a dozen
+tentacles snake over him, and mechanically stabbed out with his
+helmet-light. For a moment he was held; then the air and his light
+pulled him through, and he broke out through the top.
+
+In his rocketing upward progress the extra oxygen rapidly cleared his
+mind. Glancing below he saw a great, dark, many-fingered cloud
+dropping rapidly away, and was glad to know that the octopi could not
+follow him into the lesser pressures above without their suits. Over
+the dark cloud he glimpsed a few scattered pin-points of light--the
+helmet-beams of the other men. They were rising as swiftly as he.
+
+"Thank God!" he murmured reverently. "We broke through! We broke
+through!"
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+_The Return of the Wanderer_
+
+Wells watched the several helmet-lights shooting upwards and wondered
+if they represented all the men that had got safely through the net of
+tentacles. Remembering the rocky ceiling they were rapidly
+approaching, he ordered the others to reduce speed by discharging air
+from their sea-suits. He received no articulate answer.
+
+Although he cut down the rush of his own progress, it was with a jar
+that he bounded into the top of the cavern. As he dangled there, he
+beheld four light beams hurtling upward; his earphones registered
+crash after crash: and then he saw the beams go spinning down into the
+gloom again, weaving and crossing fantastically, the shock having
+jerked them from their owner's hands. Keith had lost his own
+helmet-light below, but peering around he could make out a few vague
+forms, bumping and twisting in the current.
+
+"Graham!" the commander called. "Graham, you there?" After a moment
+his first officer's voice came thickly back.
+
+"Yes--here. A bit groggy. That crash...." Wells swam clumsily towards
+him.
+
+"I guess only a few of us broke through," the commander said slowly.
+As the two officers hung at the roof, swinging grotesquely, one by one
+the other men came to their senses and reported their presence in the
+radiophone. Keith ordered them to cluster around him, and soon eight
+weird figures had grouped nearby. After a while they located two
+others, which brought their total to ten men and two officers. They
+looked a long time, but could not find any more. Two were gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Deep silence fell over the tiny group. The dark mass of the rocky
+ceiling scraped their helmets; below, the bluish waters tapered into a
+thick gloom, hiding, miles beneath, the mound-buildings and swarming
+octopi.
+
+One of the men spoke. His words were audible to everyone, and they
+voiced the thought in every brain:
+
+"What're we going to do now?"
+
+Keith had no answer. They had escaped the immediate danger, but it was
+only a temporary respite. The commander knew it was hopeless to try
+and locate the tunnel leading to the outer sea, for they were very
+tired, and in their clumsy suits they would be able to swim only a few
+rods. Their helmet-lights were gone; they had played their last card.
+
+"They're goin' to find us after a while," the pessimistic voice
+continued. "They'll send that submarine of theirs after us--or maybe
+they'll come up in their metal suits...."
+
+"Well," Keith replied with forced cheerfulness, "then we'll have to
+fight 'em off."
+
+"Why not rip our suits an' end it now--" began another, but Graham's
+voice cut in sharply.
+
+"Quiet!" he said. "I heard something!"
+
+The men stilled abruptly. In tense silence their ears strained at the
+headphones. Wells asked: "What did you hear?"
+
+"Wait!" Graham interrupted, listening intently. "There it is again!
+Listen! Can't you hear it? Why, it sounded like--like--"
+
+Keith concentrated his whole mind on listening, but could catch
+nothing at all. He was just about to give up when he caught a faint,
+jumbled murmur--the murmur of a human voice.
+
+"My God!" he whispered. The voice, little by little, grew, and Wells
+could distinguish words. They formed into a complete sentence. Keith
+heard it plainly. It was:
+
+"Now, what the hell's this thing for?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Unmistakably, it was the voice of Cook Angus McKegnie, whom they all
+had thought dead.
+
+Amazed, the men of the crew started to jabber. "Quiet!" Wells ordered
+sharply. He listened again. McKegnie's voice was growing quickly and
+steadily louder.
+
+"McKegnie!" the commander cried excitedly. "McKegnie, can you hear
+me?" There was no answer. Patiently Wells waited a minute, every
+second of which increased the volume of his long-lost cook's
+bewildered tones. Again he tried.
+
+"McKegnie! Can you hear me? This is Commander Wells. McKegnie!"
+
+The cook's stammering voice came back:
+
+"Why--why--is that you, Mr. Wells? Did I hear you, Mr. Wells?"
+
+"Yes!" Keith shouted impatiently. "This is Commander Wells! For
+heaven's sake, McKegnie, where are you?"
+
+"I don't know, sir!" the cook responded. "Where are you?"
+
+Keith was for the moment perplexed. "But--but, are you a prisoner?" he
+questioned. And he could have sworn he heard a distinct note of pride
+as the invisible McKegnie replied: "Oh, no, sir! Not yet! These devils
+been tryin' their best to get me, but they couldn't! No, sir!"
+
+Wells became more and more puzzled. "Then--but--you're not running the
+_NX-1_, are you?"
+
+McKegnie's voice was much louder now, and growing every second. The
+note of pride persisted. "Of course, sir!" he confirmed. "It was kind
+of hard at first, with these octopises botherin' me, but I got onto it
+pretty quick. That octopis ship chased me with them heat rays for a
+long time, but I ain't seen them lately. I guess I kinda tired them
+out."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His last words grew louder with a rush, and from the dark depths
+beneath a long shape suddenly appeared, hurtling up at the group of
+astounded men in a zoom that bade fair to take it straight through the
+ceiling. It was the _NX-1_.
+
+"Dive, man, dive!" Keith yelled. "Cook, pull that black-handled lever
+towards you! Yank it back! Yank it back! Quick!" He sighed with relief
+as he saw his madly-driven submarine pause, whip its nose downward,
+and crash back for the depths from which it had come.
+
+The commander spoke rapidly. "McKegnie, listen: Leave the black lever
+halfway, so you'll level out. Straighten your helm. We're only a
+little above you; come round in a circle till I tell you to stop."
+
+The _NX-1_ came out of her dive, and, as the cook evidently shoved her
+helm over, went skirting around in a wide, drunken circle, some
+thousand feet below her regular crew.
+
+"All right!" Keith shouted. The fear that the octopi submarine would
+dart back before he could get aboard his ship was looming in his mind.
+"You're at the helm, Cook; there's a wheel right over your head. Spin
+it around--oh, my God, there you go again!" He groaned while the
+_NX-1_ went swooping off on a repetition of her crazy circle.
+
+"Sorry, sir," the culinary navigator said thickly. "I guess I got the
+wrong thing."
+
+"Now!" Wells roared. "Spin that wheel above your head.... That's
+right--right--there! Don't touch a thing, Cook! We're coming down."
+
+The submarine had paused directly beneath them, listing slightly to
+port. Then began the cautious business of the descent. Under Wells'
+rapid orders the men linked arms again and discharged more air from
+their sea-suits. Slowly, thin chains of bubbles rising behind them,
+they sank towards the dim shape of the _NX-1_ below. Wells' eyes kept
+probing the thick gloom far beneath. Every moment he expected to see
+it disgorge a swarm of octopi.
+
+They neared the submarine, and saw numberless pitted spots in her
+body, where the heat ray had stabbed for a moment. In their excitement
+they missed their level by some feet, but clutching together they
+admitted more air and soon rose even with the starboard exit port.
+
+"Swim forward," Keith ordered. "Hurry!" The weird figures groped
+clumsily, and very slowly neared the port. The commander, in the van,
+at last reached out and gripped its jutting external controls. He
+could not work them at first: his hands were numb and awkward.
+
+As he tugged and struggled with them a shout rang in his headphone. It
+was McKegnie, scared to death.
+
+"Oh, hurry, Mr. Wells!" he yelled. "Quick! Quick, please! The octopis
+ship's comin', sir! The red light's back!"
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+_To the Death_
+
+The emergency steadied Keith's fingers. He got the door open and
+motioned Graham and six men inside the water chamber. The passage took
+but a minute. Then he sent the rest of the crew in, being himself the
+last to enter. When the chamber was finally empty, and Wells had
+stepped through the inner door onto the lower deck of the _NX-1_, a
+great sigh of relief broke from him. Never before had anything looked
+so good as that brilliantly lit deck with its familiar maze of
+machinery and bulkheads.
+
+"Thank God," he said simply, and his joy was shared by the whole crew.
+A new feeling had come over them. Back home--in their own submarine,
+their own element--they had at least a fighting chance with the
+octopi. But Keith let them waste no time. He knew that a final,
+desperate duel to the death with their foe still was ahead. "Above to
+the control room," he ordered. "Fast!"
+
+They lumbered up the connecting ramp. A disheveled, wild-eyed form met
+them. Keith couldn't help chuckling as he passed the now much thinner
+and paler cook, with the arsenal handy at his waist. On the deck of
+the control room lay a huge tentacled body, metal-scaled, with its
+dome of glass shattered and its great cold eyes staring unseeingly
+away. "I killed him," stammered McKegnie pridefully; "but Mr.
+Wells--look at that red light, sir!"
+
+Keith glanced rapidly at the location chart, ripping off his sea-suit
+as he did. The fateful red stud was moving swiftly down on the
+motionless green one. The men had surrounded McKegnie, laughing and
+slapping him on the back, but the commander's terse orders jerked them
+abruptly back to action.
+
+"The rectifiers, Graham: clean out this stale air. Sea-suits off; at
+emergency posts. Take the helm, Craig; you, Wetherby, trim the ship.
+No, no, Cook--keep away from the controls!"
+
+The _NX-1_ balanced herself; fresh air came rushing in, sweeping out
+the stale. Keith stared at the location chart, waiting for the
+submarine to be ready. The red light was almost upon them.
+
+"Right!" he roared at last. "Diving rudder controls, Graham! Full
+speed for the tunnel!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At that moment the octopi ship swept into view, its full battery of
+offensive weapons flaring forth. The paralyzing ray tingled again and
+again over the control room. Someone laughed at its uselessness. The
+violet heat ray leveled full at them, but the commander avoided it
+with "Port ten, starboard ten! Maintain zigzag course to the tunnel."
+He understood the enemy's weapons now; he was throbbing with the
+fierce thrill of action. This duel was to be the climax of their whole
+adventure. "And, by heaven," he promised, "it's going to be a fight!"
+
+The other craft seemed to realize the _NX-1_ was now in expert hands.
+She raced along to starboard for some minutes, her heat ray trying
+vainly to steady on the American's weaving form. Wells wondered if the
+king of the octopi was aboard her, in command; he thought perhaps the
+ship had postponed her chase of McKegnie to pick him up. "I hope he
+is!" the commander breathed, and fingered the torpedo lever. He had
+some debts to pay.
+
+The _NX-1_, engines working smoothly, proceeded on a desperate dash
+for the tunnel that led to the outer sea. But the octopi ship
+apparently knew what Keith intended, for she abandoned her offensive
+rays, changed course a few degrees and slowly but steadily pulled
+ahead. "Damn!" Keith exclaimed. "She'll get there before us!"
+
+The dim shape dwindled on the screen, and before long her bulk had
+disappeared entirely. Wells then could watch her swift, straight
+progress only on the location chart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes later the funnel-like opening of the tunnel loomed on the
+teleview, and squarely in front, blocking it, was the waiting form of
+the octopi submarine.
+
+"Quarter speed!" Keith snapped. "Hold her steady, Graham; I'm going to
+try a bow torpedo. I think we're beyond their ray."
+
+Sighting his range on the telescopic range-finder, he worked the
+_NX-1_ slowly into position. He noticed that his first officer was
+staring oddly at him. He was bothered by the queer look. "What's
+wrong?" he asked impatiently.
+
+"But--what about Hemmy Bowman?"
+
+Bowman! In the rush of action and suspense, Keith Wells had completely
+forgotten his officer in the enemy submarine. "Oh, God!" he groaned.
+The cruel situation that had stayed his hand once before had again
+come to falter his course of action. The men were watching him; Graham
+had a question in his eyes. They all knew what had to be decided....
+
+Keith shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. It was his greater duty to
+destroy the octopi submarine. And yet--
+
+"Fish for Hemmy, Sparks," he ordered. "Craig, keep present distance
+from enemy. Full stop."
+
+A moment later the radio operator looked up. "Mr. Bowman on the
+phones, sir." With a heavy weight on his heart the commander clipped
+on the extension headphones.
+
+"Hemmy?"
+
+"Keith? Keith? Thank God you're alive!" Bowman's voice shook with
+gladness. "You're all back on the _NX-1_, Keith? The whole crew's with
+you? Oh, Lord, it's good to hear you again!"
+
+"Yes. We got back all right, Hemmy--a miracle. They've still got you
+prisoner?"
+
+"Yes.... Keith--you're trying to dodge out of the tunnel, aren't you?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells smiled bitterly, and as he paused to frame an answer Bowman
+spoke again.
+
+"I want you to blow up this submarine, Keith," he said quickly. "A
+favor to me."
+
+He cut Wells short when the commander started to interrupt. "Wait! Let
+me finish," he pleaded. "I want to explain. I'd been hoping--but never
+mind that.... Keith, a while ago I managed to work loose. I lost my
+head completely and tackled these devils. It was a foolish thing to
+do; they overcame me, naturally. But, in the struggle, they tore my
+sea-suit."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Oh, just a tiny tear, or I wouldn't have lasted till now. But a leak
+all the same--in the right leg. Since then I've been gripping the
+edges of the fabric as tightly as I can--but I couldn't keep the water
+inside this ship from seeping through. It came in slowly at first,
+then faster as my hands grew numb. It's up to my neck now, Keith ...
+and--it won't be long! I've just a few minutes left...."
+
+The faint words tapered into silence.
+
+"No!" roared Keith in a great rush of emotion. But Hemmy's eager
+voice came right back:
+
+"Oh yes, you must! It would be a mercy to kill me, Keith."
+
+There were tears in the commander's eyes. "Are you sure, Hemmy?" he
+asked. "Are you sure?"
+
+"Oh, yes. It would be a mercy."
+
+Wells' lips formed a straight grim line. His words squeezed through it
+tightly. "All right, Hemmy. Thanks. Thanks. I--I'll go after them now,
+old man. I'll try and keep in touch with you through the duel, but
+I--I can't promise--"
+
+He could almost see Hemingway Bowman give his old familiar smile as he
+answered:
+
+"Then so long, Keith!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Commander Keith Wells studied the teleview screen. The men were half
+afraid to look at his strained blanched face.
+
+Repeatedly the violet beam speared through the water, reaching for the
+_NX-1's_ bow.
+
+"Turn ship. Line up for stern torpedoes," the commander ordered
+harshly. He realized he could not hold his submarine steady to obtain
+a perfect sight, for the heat ray needed only thirty seconds to melt
+through their shell. He would have to swing the ship slowly about;
+and, as the shape of the enemy crossed the hair-lines on the
+range-finder, unleash his torpedoes and gamble on hitting the moving
+target.
+
+The _NX-1_ swung around, always maintaining a slight forward motion
+and zigzagging constantly to nullify the heat beam. Wells watched the
+range-finder closely. The octopi ship slanted downwards, the deadly
+violet ray stabbing from her bow. Slowly the black dot that
+represented her appeared on the dial, and slowly it dropped towards
+the crossed lines that showed the perfect firing point.
+
+Keith grasped the torpedo lever. The _NX-1's_ stern was towards her
+target. Dead silence hung in the control room. The _NX-1_ swung
+slightly. The octopi craft appeared directly in the middle of the
+dial.
+
+Wells pulled back the lever.
+
+The hiss of compressed air sprang from her stern. He had fired two
+tubes, his whole stock of stern torpedoes. The pair of dreadful
+weapons leaped out and settled on their course. Keith shot his gaze to
+the teleview.
+
+The torpedoes missed. Only by feet, but a miss all the same. They
+raced on past the octopi submarine and, with a tremendous, ear-numbing
+explosion, burst on the wall of the cavern beyond. Both ships reeled
+from the shock. Graham swore viciously, but Wells' masklike face
+showed no slightest change of expression....
+
+A voice rang in Keith's headphones. "Tough, Keith! Better luck next
+time!" Then the commander winced. He simply could not answer Hemmy
+Bowman; could not answer that fine, brave voice....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The stern torpedoes were gone. The tubes could not be reloaded, for
+the paralyzing ray bound the men to the control room. That left them
+two torpedoes in the bow.
+
+The violet heat ray kept fingering hungrily on their outer hull, and
+every man knew that the plates were weakening under the steady strain,
+which was only lessened by the _NX-1's_ constant zigzagging. The
+control room was very hot. Both ships were now a full mile from the
+tunnel entrance. Keith plunged the _NX-1_ down, swung her around, to
+bring his bow tubes to bear, and zigzagged upwards.
+
+It was obvious that the octopi craft had been alarmed by the terrific
+explosion. They now adopted tactics similar to the American ship's,
+and for awhile both submarines circled cautiously, maneuvering for an
+opening.
+
+"If only we could keep the ship steady!" Graham muttered. "But then
+that heat ray'd get us!"
+
+The commander kept his eyes on the teleview. Again and again the
+violet shaft pronged at them. The heat grew stifling. Sweat was
+pouring from all the men's bodies. Every face was strained and taut.
+
+"Starboard full!" Wells said suddenly. "A little up, Graham!" He had
+seen a chance; the octopi craft was slightly above, and in a moment
+would pass directly in the line of the bow tubes. The _NX-1_ stuck her
+nose up, swung rapidly to the right. Keith pulled back the firing
+lever, releasing one torpedo.
+
+The long messenger of death hurtled straight for the enemy's hull.
+They watched its course breathlessly....
+
+"My God!" the first officer groaned. "Could they see it coming?" For
+the octopi submarine had swung to one side, neatly dodging the
+speeding tube of dynamite.
+
+"One left!" he added bitterly. "One left!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A desperate plan formed in Keith Wells' mind. His last torpedo simply
+had to strike the mark; he could take no chances with it. He motioned
+the haggard-faced Graham to him.
+
+"There's only one thing left to do," he said quietly. "We've got to
+deliberately face that heat ray; chance its puncturing our plates."
+
+"How do you mean, sir?"
+
+"Get in very close, so as to make our last torpedo sure to hit. We've
+got to approach the enemy head-on at full speed. We'll corkscrew up to
+them until we get within two hundred yards, then go straight forward
+for ten or fifteen seconds, giving us the opportunity to sight the
+remaining torpedo directly on them. The heat ray may break through
+before I fire--but when I do fire it's a sure hit."
+
+The men had heard every word. Quietly Wells ordered:
+
+"Take the torpedo control, Graham. I'll take the helm."
+
+The first officer obeyed without a word. Keith grasped the helm. The
+plans were made for their last desperate attempt.
+
+"Right," the commander said shortly. "Here we go."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There had been a taut silence before, but now, knowing that they were
+deliberately offering themselves a perfect target for the heat ray in
+order to get their last torpedo home, the intensity was almost
+unbearable. The men felt like shrieking, jumping--doing anything to
+break the awful hush. The air was charged with the same unnameable
+something that heralds a typhoon.
+
+Keith Wells was like a white statue at the helm, save for the
+betraying trickles of sweat that coursed down his drawn cheeks. His
+hands moved the wheel slowly from port to starboard; his eyes bored at
+the screen before him. The ship was in command of a man of steel, a
+man with but one purpose....
+
+"Up--up," he ordered. "Hold--in trim--full speed forward!"
+
+He had brought the _NX-1_ directly in line with the octopi ship. And
+now the craft leaped forward under full power, while he shot the helm
+back and forth ceaselessly. His ship was describing a corkscrewing
+motion, weaving straight at the enemy. Grasping her opportunity, the
+octopi submarine remained motionless, steadily dousing the approaching
+American craft with her silent violet ray and driving the temperature
+in the control room to even greater heights.
+
+The distance between them rapidly lessened. Would the plates stand it?
+Would the ray melt through the weakened steel before he could fire?
+With an effort Keith drove these doubts from his mind ... but he could
+not banish a certain dull, steady ache from his consciousness....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The range dwindled. The heat became intolerable. Everyone's clothing
+was sopping wet. A man ripped off his shirt, gasping for air. Wells
+kept his eyes on the screen, though half-blinded by smarting sweat.
+The plates had to give soon, he knew.
+
+The octopi submarine, beam on and dead ahead, began to move to port at
+quickly increasing speed. At once Keith stopped swinging the helm, and
+the _NX-1's_ corkscrewing motion of protection ceased. And then came
+the real test, the gauntlet of seconds.
+
+Right straight into the retreating violet beam they went, at top
+speed. They gained rapidly. The heat was furnace-like. The commander,
+watching the range-finder, kept moving the helm slightly over. A shaft
+of violet heat spanned the two shells of metal. For ten seconds it had
+held on the _NX-1_. The black dot of the enemy craft moved slowly to
+exact center on the dial. Fifteen seconds ... twenty ...
+twenty-three--
+
+"Fire!"
+
+Graham jammed the torpedo lever back.
+
+"Crash dive!"
+
+The deck tilted downward. And Wells' white lips formed the words, "So
+long, Hemmy!"--and he tore the phones from his head.
+
+Seconds later a titanic explosion sounded through the cavern; echoed
+and re-echoed in vasty roars. The American craft's lights went
+off--but not before her men had seen, in the teleview, a fire-shot
+maelstrom where a moment before the octopi submarine had been.
+
+"We got them!" yelled Graham.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A roar of exultation burst from every throat. The men flung their arms
+out, jumped, yelled crazily. Faint emergency lights lit the scene.
+
+"Below, at regular posts," Wells ordered. "Reload bow and stern tubes.
+Graham, see to the lights." He himself remained at the helm. In a few
+moments the submarine had climbed back to the level of the tunnel. At
+quarter speed she nosed into the wide entrance, and slowly forged into
+the dense, deceptive shadows.
+
+The commander acted mechanically. Again by touch he steered his ship
+through the black, ragged cleft. Fifteen minutes after leaving the
+cavern of the octopi her bow poked through the weaving kelp into the
+free, salty depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
+
+There was one more task to perform, and Wells lost no time in doing
+it. When two hundred yards away he halted the _NX-1_, steadied her and
+sighted the stern tubes just above the dark tunnel hole. Quickly he
+sent forth two torpedoes.
+
+A huge roar rumbled through the water, whipping the beds of kelp to
+mad convulsions. "Turn around," the commander ordered harshly. He
+sighted his bow tubes and again let loose a bolt of two torpedoes.
+Then he sent the submarine forward, and, through the teleview,
+examined what his four weapons had done.
+
+Huge chunks of rock had been tumbled down, completely closing the
+tunnel.
+
+"Well," said Graham, "it's over! Finished! They'll never get through
+that!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A full-throated cheer burst from the men below, a cheer that rang for
+minutes as they realized they were free forever of the octopi, of the
+cold underwater city, of the clutching tentacles. Graham grinned
+broadly.
+
+"Sound happy--eh?" he chuckled. "Say, Keith, it's good we've got those
+two octopi our fighting cook killed. Knapp would never believe our
+story without them!"
+
+He stared curiously at his commander. Wells was standing quite still,
+facing the teleview screen. A strange, far-away look was in his eyes.
+
+"What's the matter, old man?" the first officer asked, smiling
+straight at him. "Aren't you glad we won through?"
+
+"Of course," answered Keith with a tired smile in return.
+
+"But why did you look that way?" Graham persisted. And Keith Wells
+told him:
+
+"I was just wondering if Hemmy told the truth."
+
+
+
+
+The Black Lamp
+
+_By Captain S. P. Meek_
+
+[Illustration: _"Look out!" He leaped to one side as he spoke._]
+
+[Sidenote: Dr. Bird and his friend Carnes unravel another criminal web
+of scientific mystery.]
+
+
+"The clue, Carnes," said Dr. Bird slowly, "lies in those windows."
+
+Operative Carnes of the United States Secret Service shook his head
+before he glanced at the windows of the famous scientist's private
+laboratory on the top floor of the Bureau of Standards.
+
+"I usually defer to your knowledge, Doctor," he said, "but this time I
+think you are off on the wrong foot. If the thieves came in through
+the windows, what was their object in cutting that hole through the
+roof? The marks are very plain and they indicate that the hole was cut
+in some manner from the inside."
+
+Dr. Bird smiled enigmatically.
+
+"That is too evident for discussion," he replied. "I grant you that
+the thieves entered from the roof through that hole. After they had
+secured their booty they left by the same route. I presume that you
+have noticed the marks on the roof where an aircraft of some sort,
+probably a helicopter, landed and took off. A question of much greater
+moment is that of what they did before they landed and cut the hole."
+
+"I don't follow your reasoning, Doctor."
+
+"Carnes, that hole was cut through the roof with a heavy saw. In
+cutting it, the workers dislodged quite a little plaster which fell to
+the floor and must have made a great deal of noise. Why wasn't that
+noise heard?"
+
+"It was heard. The watchman heard it, but knew that Lieutenant Breslau
+was working here and he thought that he made the noise."
+
+"Surely, but why didn't Breslau hear it?"
+
+"How do we know that he didn't? He was taken to Walter Reed Hospital
+this morning with his mind an absolute blank and with his tongue
+paralyzed. He must have seen the thieves and they treated him in some
+way to ensure his silence. When he is able to talk, if he ever is,
+he'll probably give us a good description of them."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird shook his head.
+
+"Too thin, Carney, old dear," he said. "Breslau is a very intelligent
+young man. He was perfectly normal when I left him shortly after
+midnight last night. He was working alone in here on a device of the
+utmost military importance. On the desk is a push button which sets
+ringing a dozen gongs in the building. Surely a man of that type would
+have had sense enough when he heard and saw intruders cutting a hole
+through the roof to sound an alarm which would have brought every
+watchman on the grounds to his assistance. He must have been knocked
+out before the hole was started, probably before the helicopter's
+landing."
+
+"How? Gas of some sort?"
+
+"The windows were all closed and locked and I have already ascertained
+that the gas and water lines have not been tampered with. Gas won't
+penetrate through a solid roof in sufficient concentration to knock
+out a man like that. It was something more subtle than gas."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"I don't know yet. The clue to what it was lies, as I told you, in
+those windows."
+
+Carnes moved over and surveyed the windows closely.
+
+"I see nothing unusual about them except that they need washing rather
+badly."
+
+"They were washed last Friday, but they do look rather dirty, don't
+they? Suppose you take a rag and some scouring soap and clean up a
+pane."
+
+The detective took the proffered articles and started his task. He wet
+a pane of glass, rubbed up a thick lather of scouring soap and applied
+it and rubbed vigorously. With clear water he washed the glass and
+then gave an exclamation of astonishment and examined it more closely.
+
+"That isn't dirt, Doctor," he cried. "The glass seems to be fogged."
+
+Dr. Bird chuckled.
+
+"So it seems," he admitted. "Now look at the rest of the glass around
+the laboratory."
+
+Carnes looked around and then walked to a table littered with
+apparatus and examined a dozen pieces carefully.
+
+"It's all fogged in exactly the same way, Doctor," he said. "The only
+piece of clear glass in the room is that piece of plate glass on your
+desk."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird picked up a hammer and struck the plate on his desk a sharp
+blow. Carnes ducked instinctively, but the hammer rebounded harmlessly
+from the plate.
+
+"That isn't glass, Carnes," said the doctor. "That plate is made of
+vitrilene, a new product which I have developed. It looks like glass,
+but it has entirely different properties. It is of enormous strength
+and is quite insensitive to shock. It has one most peculiar property.
+While ultra-violet and longer rays will penetrate it quite readily, it
+is a perfect screen for X-rays and other rays of shorter wave length.
+It appears to be the only piece of transparent substance in my
+laboratory which has not been fogged, as you call it."
+
+"Do short waves fog glass, Doctor?"
+
+"Not so far as I know at present, but you must remember that very
+little work has been done with the short wave-lengths. In the vast
+range of waves whose lengths lie between zero and that of the X-ray,
+only a few points have been investigated and definitely plotted. There
+may be in that range a wave-length which will fog glass."
+
+"Then your theory is that some sort of a ray machine was put in
+operation before the helicopter landed?"
+
+"It is too early to attempt any theorizing, Carnes. Let us confine
+ourselves to the known facts. Lieutenant Breslau was normal at
+midnight and was working in this room. Some time between then and
+seven this morning he underwent certain mental and physical changes
+which prevent him from telling us what he observed. During the same
+period, a hole was cut in the roof and things of great importance
+stolen. At the same time, all the glass in the laboratory became
+semi-opaque. The problem is to determine what connection there is
+between the three events. I will handle the scientific end here, but
+there is some outside work to be done, and that will be your share."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Give your orders, Doctor," said the detective briefly.
+
+"To understand what I am driving at, I will have to tell you what has
+been stolen. Naturally this is highly confidential. Some rumors have
+leaked out as to my experiments with 'radite,' as I have named the
+new radium-containing disintegrating explosive on which I have been
+working, but no one short of the Secretary of War and the Chief of
+Ordnance and certain of their selected subordinates knows that my
+experiments have been successful and that the United States is in a
+position to manufacture radite in almost unlimited quantities from the
+pitchblende ore deposits of Wyoming and Nevada. The effects of radite
+will be catastrophic on the unfortunate victim on whom it is first
+used. The only thing left to do was to develop a gun from which radite
+shells could be fired with safety and precision.
+
+"Ordinary propellant powders are too variable for this purpose, but I
+found that radite B, one form of my new explosive, can be used for
+propelling the shells from a gun. The ordinary gun will last only two
+or three rounds, due to the erosive action of the radite charge on the
+barrel, and ordinary ordnance is heavier and more cumbersome than is
+necessary. When this was found to be the case, the Chief of Ordnance
+detailed Lieutenant Breslau, the army's greatest expert on gun design,
+to work with me in an attempt to develop a suitable weapon. Breslau is
+a wizard at that sort of work and he has made a miniature working
+model of a gun with a vitrilene-lined barrel which is capable of being
+fired with a miniature shell. The gun will stand up under the repeated
+firing of radite charges and is very light and compact and gives an
+accuracy of fire control heretofore deemed impossible. From this he
+planned to construct a larger weapon which would fire a shell
+containing an explosive charge of two and one-half ounces of radite at
+a rate of fire of two hundred shots per minute. The destructive effect
+of each shell will be greater than that of the ordinary high-explosive
+shell fired from a sixteen-inch mortar, and all of the shells can be
+landed inside a two-hundred foot circle at a range of fifteen miles.
+The weight of the completed gun will be less than half a ton,
+exclusive of the firing platform. It is Breslau's working model which
+has been stolen."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Carnes whistled softly between his teeth.
+
+"The matter will have to be handled pretty delicately to avoid
+international complications," he said. "It's hard to tell just where
+to look. There are a great many nations who would give any amount for
+a model of such a weapon."
+
+"The matter must be handled delicately and also in absolute secrecy,
+Carnes. We are not yet ready to announce to the world the fact that we
+have such a weapon in our armory. It is the plan of the President to
+have a half dozen of these weapons manufactured and give a
+demonstration of their terrible effectiveness to representatives of
+the powers of the world. Think what an argument the existence of such
+a weapon will be for the furtherance of his plans for disarmament and
+universal peace! Public sentiment will force disarmament on the world,
+for even the worst jingoist could no longer defend armaments in the
+face of America's offer to scrap these super-engines of destruction
+and to destroy the plans from which they were made. If the model has
+fallen into the hands of any civilized power the damage is not
+irreparable, for public opinion would force its surrender and return.
+It is among the uncivilized powers that our search must first be
+made."
+
+"That makes the problem of where to start more complicated."
+
+"On the contrary, it simplifies it immensely. At the head of the
+uncivilized powers stands one which has the brains, the scientific
+knowledge and the manufacturing facilities to make terrible use of
+such a weapon. In addition, the aim of that power is to overthrow all
+world governments and set up in their stead its own tyrannical
+disorder. Need I name it?"
+
+"You refer to Russia."
+
+"Not to Russia, the great slumbering giant who will some day take her
+place in the sun in fellowship with the other nations, but to
+Bolsheviki, that empire within an empire, that horrible power which is
+holding sleeping Russia in chains of steel and blood. It is there that
+our search must first be made."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Of course, they have no official representative in America."
+
+"No, but the Young Labor Party is as much their accredited
+representative as the British Ambassador is of imperial Britain. Your
+first task will be to trail down and locate every leader of that group
+and to investigate his present activities."
+
+"I can tell you where most of them are without investigation. Denberg,
+Semensky and Karuska are in Atlanta; Fedorovitch and Caspar are in
+Leavenworth; Saranoff is dead--"
+
+"Presumably."
+
+"Why, Doctor, I saw with my own eyes the destruction of the submarine
+in which he was riding!"
+
+"Did you see his dead body?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Neither did I, and I will never be sure until I do. Once before we
+were certain of his death, and he bobbed up with a new fiendish
+device. We cannot eliminate Saranoff."
+
+"I will include him in my plans."
+
+"Do so. Besides a hypothetical Saranoff, there are a half dozen or
+more of the old leaders of the gang who are alive and at liberty, so
+far as we know. They fled the country after the Coast Guard broke up
+their alien smuggling scheme, but some of them may have returned.
+There are also thirty or forty underlings who should be located and
+checked up on, and, in addition, we must not lose sight of the fact
+that new heads of the organization may have been smuggled into the
+United States. It is no simple task that I am setting you, Carnes, but
+I know that you and Bolton will see it through if anyone can."
+
+"Thanks, Doctor, we'll do our best. If I am not speaking out of turn,
+what are you planning to do in the mean time?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I am going to start Taylor off on an ultra-short wave generator and
+try a few experiments along that line. Breslau is at Walter Reed and
+they are doing all they can for him, but until I can get some definite
+information as to the underlying cause of his condition, they are more
+or less shooting in the dark."
+
+"How are they treating him?"
+
+"By electric stimulations and vibratory treatments and by keeping him
+in a darkened room. By the way, Carnes, if I am correct in my line of
+thought, it would be well to have an extra guard put over Karuska. He
+was the only real expert in ordnance that the Young Labor party had,
+and if they have Breslau's model they'll need him to supervise the
+construction of a gun."
+
+"I'll attend to that at once, Doctor. Is there anything else?"
+
+"Not that I know of. I am going out to Takoma Park this afternoon and
+have another look at Breslau, but it is too soon to hope for any
+change in his condition. Aside from the time I will be out there, you
+can find me either here or at my home, in case anything develops."
+
+"I'll get on the job at once, Doctor."
+
+"Thanks, old dear. Remember that speed must be the keynote of your
+work."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The telephone bell at the head of Dr. Bird's bed woke into noisy
+activity. The doctor roused himself and took down the instrument
+sleepily. A glance at the clock showed him that it was four in the
+morning and he muttered a malediction on the one who had called him.
+
+"Hello," he said into the receiver. "Dr. Bird speaking."
+
+"Doctor," came a crisp voice over the wire, "wake up! This is Carnes
+talking. Something has broken loose!"
+
+All trace of sleep vanished from Dr. Bird's face and his eyes glowed
+momentarily with a peculiar glitter which Carnes would at once have
+recognized as indicative of the keenest interest.
+
+"What has happened, Carnes?" he demanded.
+
+"I telephoned Atlanta this morning and arranged to have an extra guard
+put over Karuska as you suggested. The matter was simplified by the
+fact that he and nine others were confined in the prison infirmary.
+The warden agreed to do as I told him, and, in addition to the regular
+guards, a special man was placed in the ward near Karuska's bed. At 2
+A. M. the lights in the ward went out."
+
+"Accidentally, or were they put out?"
+
+"They haven't found out yet. At any rate they are all right now, but
+Karuska and all of the other inmates and all the guards of that
+particular ward have gone crazy."
+
+"The dickens you say!"
+
+"Not only that, they are also partially paralyzed. The description I
+got over the telephone corresponds exactly with the condition of
+Lieutenant Breslau as you described it to me. Here is the most
+interesting part of the whole affair. The special guard over Karuska
+was only lightly affected and has already recovered and is in a
+position to tell you exactly what happened. I got a garbled account of
+the affair from the warden, something about a goldfish bowl or
+something like that, the warden wouldn't take it seriously enough to
+give me details. I didn't press for them much for I knew that you
+would rather get them at first hand."
+
+"I certainly would. I'll be ready to leave for Atlanta in less than
+ten minutes."
+
+"I expected that, Doctor, and a car is already on its way to pick you
+up. I'll meet you at Langley Field where a plane is already being
+tuned up and will be ready to take off by the time we get there."
+
+"Good work, Carnes. I'll see you at the field."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A car was waiting for Carnes and Dr. Bird when the Langley Field plane
+slid down to a landing at Atlanta. At the penitentiary, Dr. Bird went
+direct to the infirmary where Karuska had been confined. As he
+entered, he shot a keen glance around and gave an exclamation of
+satisfaction.
+
+"Look at the windows, Carnes," he cried.
+
+Carnes went over to the nearest window and moistened his finger tip
+and applied it experimentally to the glass. The moisture produced no
+effect, for the glass of the windows was permanently clouded as was
+that of the doctor's laboratory.
+
+"Whatever happened in my laboratory the night before last was repeated
+here last night with a similar object," said the doctor. "The object
+there was to steal a gun model; here it was to steal a man who could
+construct a full-sized gun from the model. I understand that one of
+the guards escaped the fate which overtook the rest of the persons in
+the infirmary?"
+
+"Not altogether, Doctor," replied the warden. "I think that his mind
+is somewhat affected, for he tells a wild yarn and insists on trying
+to wear a goldfish bowl on his head. I have him under observation in
+the psychopathic ward."
+
+Dr. Bird shot a scornful glance at the warden.
+
+"'There are none so blind as those who will not see'," he murmured.
+
+"By all means, I wish to see him," he went on aloud. "Will you have
+him brought here at once, please?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The warden nodded and spoke to one of the attendants. In a few moments
+a tall, fair-haired young giant stood before the doctor. Dr. Bird
+pushed back his unruly shock of black hair with his fingers, those
+long slim mobile fingers which alone betrayed the artist in his
+make-up, and shot a piercing glance from his black eyes into the blue
+ones, which returned the gaze unabashed.
+
+"What is your name?" he asked.
+
+"Bailley, sir."
+
+"You were on guard here last night?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I was detailed as a special guard over No. 9764."
+
+"Tell me in your own words just what happened. Don't be afraid to
+speak out; I'm not going to disbelieve you; and above all, tell me
+everything, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you. I'll judge
+the importance of things for myself. I'm Dr. Bird of the Bureau of
+Standards."
+
+The guard's face lighted up at the doctor's words.
+
+"I've heard of you, Doctor," he said in a relieved tone, "and I'll be
+glad to tell you everything. At ten o'clock last night, I relieved
+Carragher as special guard over No. 9764. Carragher reported that the
+prisoner was somewhat restless and hadn't been asleep as yet. I sat
+down about fifteen feet from his bed and prepared to keep an eye on
+him until I was relieved at six o'clock this morning.
+
+"Nothing happened until about two o'clock. No. 9764 was restless as
+Carragher had said, but toward midnight he quieted down and apparently
+went to sleep. I was sleepy myself, and I got up and took a turn
+around the room every five minutes to be sure that I kept awake.
+That's how I am so sure of the time, sir."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird nodded.
+
+"At five minutes to two, just as I got up, I heard a noise outside
+like a big electric fan. It sounded like it came from directly
+overhead and I went to the window and looked out. I couldn't see
+anything, although I could hear it pretty plainly, and then I heard a
+noise like something had fallen on the roof. Almost at the same time
+there came a sort of high-pitched whine, a good deal like the noise an
+electric motor makes when it is running at high speed.
+
+"I thought of giving an alarm, but I didn't want to stir things up
+unless I was sure that there was some necessity for it, so I started
+for the door to ask one of the outside guards if he had heard
+anything. As I turned toward No. 9764 I saw that he had been sitting
+up in bed while my back was turned. As soon as he saw that I noticed
+him, he lay back real quick and pulled the covers over his head. He
+moved pretty quick, but not so quick that I couldn't see that he had
+something that glittered like glass before his face. I started over
+toward his bed to see what he was doing and then it was that the
+lights started to get dim!"
+
+"Go on!" said the doctor as Bailley paused. His eyes were glittering
+brightly now.
+
+"Well, sir, Doctor, I don't hardly know how to describe what happened
+next. The lights were getting dim, but not as they ordinarily do when
+the current starts to go off. The filaments were shining as bright as
+they ever did, but the light didn't seem to be able to penetrate the
+air. The whole room seemed to be filled with a blackness that stopped
+the light. No, sir, it wasn't like fog; it was more like something
+more powerful than the lights was in the room and was killing them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"It wasn't only the lights which were affected, it was me as well.
+This blackness, whatever it was, was getting into me as well as into
+the room, and I couldn't seem to make myself think like I wanted to. I
+tried to yell to give an alarm, and I found that I could hardly
+whisper. I went toward the bed and then I saw No. 9764 sit up again.
+He had a goldfish bowl pulled down over his head and it was evident
+that it was keeping the blackness away, for I could see him plainly
+and his eyes were as bright as ever.
+
+"The nearer I got to him, the funnier I felt, and I began to be afraid
+that I would go out. No. 9764 got up out of bed, and I could see him
+grinning at me through the bowl. He reached up and adjusted that bowl,
+and all of a sudden I realized that whatever was knocking me out was
+not affecting him because he had that thing on. I jumped for him with
+the idea of taking the bowl off and putting it on my own head. He saw
+what I was up to and he fought like a cornered rat, but the blackness
+hadn't affected my muscles. I'm a pretty big man, sir, and No. 9764 is
+a little runt, and it didn't take me long to get the bowl off his head
+and pulled on over mine. As soon as I did that, I seemed to be able to
+think clearer. I was sitting on No. 9764 and was ready to tap him with
+a persuader if he started anything, but I didn't have to. In a few
+minutes he stopped struggling and lay perfectly quiet.
+
+"The lights kept getting dimmer and dimmer until they went out
+altogether and the room became pitch dark. It wasn't exactly as if the
+lights had gone out, sir; I seemed to know that they were still there
+and were burning as bright as ever, but they couldn't penetrate the
+blackness in the room, if you understand what I mean."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I think I do," said Dr. Bird slowly. "It was a good deal as if you
+had seen a glass filled with a pale red liquid and someone had dumped
+black ink into the fluid and hid the red color. You would know that
+the red was still there, but you wouldn't be able to see it through
+the black."
+
+"That's exactly what it was like, Doctor; you have described it better
+than I can. At any rate, after it got real dark I heard a low whistle
+from the roof. No. 9764 made a struggle to get up for a moment and
+then lay quiet again. The whistle sounded again and then I heard some
+one call 'Caruso.' Everything was quiet for a while and then the same
+voice called again and said some stuff in a foreign language that I
+couldn't understand. I kept perfectly quiet to see what would happen.
+
+"For about ten minutes the room remained perfectly dark, as I have
+said, and all the while I could hear that whining noise. All of a
+sudden it began to sound in a lower note and then I could see the
+lights again, very dimly and like the black ink you spoke of was
+fading out. The note got lower until it stopped altogether, and the
+lights came on brighter until they were normal again. Then I heard a
+scraping noise on the roof and the noise I had heard at first like a
+big electric fan. I looked at the clock. It was two-twenty.
+
+"For a few minutes I wasn't able to collect my wits. When I got up off
+of No. 9764 at last he stared at me as though he didn't know a thing,
+and I heaved him back into his bed and ran to the door to summon an
+outside guard. I could still talk in a husky whisper, but not loud,
+and I wasn't surprised when no one heard me. My orders were not to let
+No. 9764 out of my sight, but this was an emergency, so I left the
+ward and found a guard. It was Madigan and he was standing on his beat
+staring at nothing. When I touched him he looked at me and there was
+the same vacant look in his eyes that I had seen in the prisoner's. I
+talked to him in a whisper, but he didn't seem to understand, so I
+left him and went to a telephone and called for help. Mr. Lawson, the
+warden, got here with guards in a couple of minutes and I tried to
+tell him what had happened, but I couldn't talk loud, and I was afraid
+to take the fish bowl off my head."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What happened next?"
+
+"Mr. Lawson took me to his office, and on the way we passed under an
+arc light. As soon as I got under it I begin to feel better, and my
+voice came stronger. I saw that it was doing me some good and I
+stopped under it for an hour before my voice got back to normal. It
+seemed to clear the fog from my brain, too, and I was able, about four
+o'clock, to tell everything that had happened. Mr. Lawson seemed to
+think that my brain was affected as well as the others' and he sent me
+to the hospital. That's all, Doctor."
+
+"Do you feel perfectly normal now?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"There is no need for confining this man longer, Mr. Lawson. He is as
+well as he ever was. Carnes, get the Walter Reed Hospital on the
+telephone and tell them that I said to treat Lieutenant Breslau with
+light rays, rich in ultra-violet. Tell them to give him an overdose of
+them and not to put goggles on him. Keep him in the sun all day and
+under sun-ray arcs at night until further orders. Mr. Lawson, give the
+same treatment to the men who were disabled last night. If you haven't
+enough sun-ray arcs in your hospital, put them under an ordinary arc
+light in the yard. Bailley, have you still got that goldfish bowl?"
+
+"It is in my office, Doctor," said the warden.
+
+"Good enough! Send for it at once. By the way, you have two more
+communists here, Denberg and Semensky, haven't you?"
+
+"I think so, although I will have to consult the records before I can
+be positive."
+
+"I am sure that you have. Look the matter up and let me know."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The warden hurried away to carry out the doctor's orders, and an
+orderly appeared in a few moments with a hollow globe made of some
+crystalline transparent substance. Despite its presence in the
+infirmary the evening before, there was no trace of clouding apparent.
+Dr. Bird took it and examined it critically. He rapped it with his
+knuckles and then stepped to the door and hurled it violently down on
+the concrete floor of the yard. The globe rebounded without injury and
+he caught it.
+
+"Vitrilene, or a good imitation of it," he remarked to Carnes. "After
+you get through talking to the hospital, get Taylor on the wire. There
+is plenty of loose vitrilene in the Bureau, and I want him to send
+down about fifty square feet of it by a special plane at once."
+
+As Carnes left the room, the warden reappeared.
+
+"The men are all lying in the sun now, Doctor," he said. "I find that
+we have the two men you mentioned confined here. They are both in Tier
+A, Building 6."
+
+"Is that an isolated building?"
+
+"No, it is one wing of the old main building."
+
+"On which floor?"
+
+"The second floor. It is a six-story building."
+
+"Have they been moved there recently?"
+
+"They have been there for nearly a year."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"In that case there will be little chance of another attack of this
+sort to-night. At the same time, I would advise you to station extra
+guards there to-night and every night until I notify you otherwise.
+Caution them to watch the lights carefully and to give an alarm at
+once if they appear to get dim. In such a case, send men to the roof
+with rifles with orders to shoot to kill anyone they find there. I am
+going back to Washington and I am going to take Karuska, your No. 9764
+with me. You had better have one of the guards in the corridor, where
+Denberg and Semensky are, wear this goldfish bowl, as you call it. A
+lot of plate glass--at least it will look like that--will come from
+Washington by plane. Cut it into sheets a foot square and use
+surgeon's plaster to make some temporary glass helmets for your men. I
+want all your guards to wear them until I either settle this matter or
+else send you some better helmets. Do you understand?"
+
+"I understand all right, but I'm afraid that I can't do it. The
+wearing of such appliances would interfere with the efficiency of my
+men as guards."
+
+"Brain and tongue paralysis would interfere rather more seriously, it
+seems to me. In any event, I have sufficient authority to enforce my
+request. If you are at all doubtful, call up the Attorney General and
+ask him."
+
+The warden hesitated.
+
+"If you don't mind, I think I will call Washington, Doctor," he said.
+"I will have to get authority to turn No. 9764 over to you in any
+event."
+
+"Call all you wish, Mr. Lawson. Mr. Carnes is talking to Washington
+now and we'll have a clear line through for you in a few minutes.
+Meanwhile, get a set of shackles on Karuska and get him ready to
+travel by plane. He appears to be suffering from mental paralysis, but
+I don't know how his case will develop. He may go violently insane at
+any moment and I don't care to be aloft in a plane with an unbound
+maniac."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Major Martin looked up from the prone figure of Karuska.
+
+"His condition duplicates that of Lieutenant Breslau, Dr. Bird," he
+said. "We received your telephoned message this afternoon and we kept
+Breslau in a flood of sunlight until dusk, and then put him under
+sun-ray lamps. I don't know how you got on to that treatment, but it
+is having a very beneficial effect. He can already make inarticulate
+sounds, and his eyes are not quite as vacant at they were. If he keeps
+on improving as he has, he should be able to talk intelligently in a
+few days. If you wish to question this man, why not give him the same
+treatment?"
+
+"I haven't time, Major. I must make him talk to-night if it is humanly
+possible. I called you in because you are the most eminent authority
+on the brain in the government service. Is there any way of
+artificially stimulating this man's brain so that we can force the
+secrets of his subconscious mind from him?"
+
+The major sat for a moment in profound thought.
+
+"There _is_ a way, Doctor," he said at length, "but it is a method
+which I would not dare to use. By applying high frequency electrical
+stimulations to the medulla oblongata, at the same time bathing the
+cerebellum with ultra-violet, it might be done, but the chances are
+that either death or insanity would result. I would not do it."
+
+"Major Martin, this man is a reckless and dangerous international
+criminal. If his gang carries out the plan which I fear they have
+formed, the lives of thousands, yes, of millions, may pay for your
+hesitation. I will assume full responsibility for the test if you will
+make it, and I have the authority of the President of the United
+States behind me."
+
+"In that case, Doctor, I have no choice. The President is the
+Commander-in-chief of the army, and if those are his orders the
+experiment will be carried out. As a matter of form, I will ask that
+your orders be reduced to writing."
+
+"I will write them gladly, Major. Please proceed with the experiment
+without delay."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Major Martin bowed and spoke to a waiting orderly. The prostrate
+figure of Karuska was wheeled down a corridor into the electrical
+laboratory, and with the aid of the laboratory technician the surgeon
+made his preparations. The Moss lamp was arranged to throw a flood of
+ultra-violet over the Russian's cranium while the leads from a deep
+therapy X-ray tube was connected, one to the front of Karuska's throat
+and the other to the base of his brain. At a signal from the major, a
+nurse began to administer ether.
+
+"I guarantee nothing, Dr. Bird," said the major. "The paralysis of the
+vocal cords may be physical, in which case the victim will still be
+unable to speak, regardless of the brain stimulation. If, however, the
+evident paralysis is due to some obscure influence on the brain, it
+may work."
+
+"In any, event I will hold you blameless and thank you for your help,"
+replied the doctor. "Please start the stimulation."
+
+Major Martin closed a switch, and the hum of a high tension alternator
+filled the laboratory. The Russian quivered for a moment and then lay
+still. Major Martin nodded and Dr. Bird stepped to the side of the
+operating table.
+
+"Ivan Karuska," he said slowly and distinctly, "do you hear me?"
+
+The Russian's lips quivered and an unintelligible murmur came from
+them.
+
+"Ivan Karuska," repeated Dr. Bird, "do you hear me?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was a momentary struggle on the part of the Russian and then a
+surprisingly clear voice came from his lips.
+
+"I do."
+
+"Who is the present head of the Young Labor party?"
+
+Again there was a pause before the name "Saranoff" came from the lips
+of the insensible figure. Carnes gave a sharp exclamation but a
+gesture from the doctor silenced him.
+
+"Is Saranoff alive?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is he in the United States?"
+
+"No, he is in London."
+
+"Is he coming to the United States?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When?"
+
+"I don't know. Soon. As soon as we are ready for him."
+
+"Where is he living in London?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"How did you get word that you were to be rescued from Atlanta?"
+
+"A message was smuggled in to me by O'Grady, a guard in our pay."
+
+"What was that vitrilene helmet for?"
+
+"To protect me from the effects of the black lamp."
+
+"What is the black lamp?"
+
+"I don't know exactly. Saranoff invented it. It gives a black light
+and it kills all other light except sunlight, and it paralyses the
+brain."
+
+"Did you know that the model of the Breslau gun had been stolen?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What were you going to do after you were rescued from jail?"
+
+"I was going to make a full-sized gun. We have a disappearing gun
+platform built in the swamps at the juncture of the Potomac and
+Piscataway Creek. The gun was to be mounted there and we would shell
+Washington and institute a reign of terror. It would be a signal for
+uprisings all over the country."
+
+"Is there a black lamp at that gun platform?"
+
+"Yes. The black lamp will kill both the flash and the report."
+
+"Where did you get the formula for radite?"
+
+"We got it from one of Dr. Bird's assistants. His name--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he spoke the last few sentences, Karuska's voice had steadily risen
+almost to a shriek. As he endeavored to give the name of the doctor's
+treacherous helper his voice changed to an unintelligible screech and
+then died away into silence. Major Martin stepped forward and bent
+over the prone figure. Hurriedly he tore away the electrical
+connections and placed a stethoscope over the Russian's heart. He
+listened for a moment and then straightened up, his face pale.
+
+"I hope that the information you obtained is worth a life, Dr. Bird,"
+he said, his voice trembling slightly, "because it has cost one."
+
+"It may easily save thousands of lives. I thank you, Major, and I will
+see that no blame attaches to you for your actions. I only wish that
+he had lived long enough to tell me the name of my assistant who has
+sold me to Saranoff. However, we'll get that information in other
+ways. Carnes, telephone Lawson at Atlanta to slam O'Grady into a cell
+pending investigation while I get Camp Meade on the wire and order up
+a couple of tanks. We are going to attack that gun emplacement at
+daybreak."
+
+The telephone bell in the laboratory jangled sharply. Major Martin
+answered it and turned to Carnes.
+
+"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Carnes."
+
+The detective stepped forward and took the transmitter.
+
+"Carnes speaking," he said. "Yes. Oh, hello, Bolton. Yes, we have
+Karuska here, or rather his body. Yes, Dr. Bird is here right now.
+You've what? Great Scott, wait a minute."
+
+"Dr. Bird," he cried eagerly turning from the telephone, "Bolton has
+located the Washington headquarters of the Young Labor party."
+
+Dr. Bird sprang to the instrument.
+
+"Bird speaking, Bolton," he cried. "You've located their headquarters?
+Who's running it? Stanesky, eh? You're on the right track; he used to
+be Saranoff's right hand man. Where is the place located? I don't seem
+to recollect the spot. You have it well surrounded? Where are you
+speaking from? All right, we'll join you as quickly as we can. Keep
+your patrols out and don't let anyone get away."
+
+He hung up the receiver and turned to Carnes.
+
+"Did you have the car wait?" he asked. "Good enough; we'll jump for
+the Bureau and pick up all the vitrilene laying around loose and then
+join Bolton. He thinks that he has the whole outfit bottled up."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bolton was waiting as the car rolled up and Dr. Bird leaped out.
+
+"Where are they?" demanded the doctor eagerly.
+
+"In an abandoned factory building about three hundred yards from
+here," replied the Chief of the Secret Service. "I traced them through
+New York. We have been watching the place ever since yesterday noon,
+and I know that Stanesky is in there with half a dozen others. No one
+has tried to leave since we set our watch. One funny thing has
+happened. About an hour ago a peculiar red glow suffused the whole
+building. It has died down a good deal since, but we can still see it
+through the windows. Could you tell us what it means?"
+
+"No. I couldn't, Bolton, but we'll find out. How many men have you?"
+
+"I have sixteen stationed around."
+
+"That's more than we'll need. I have only vitrilene shields and
+helmets enough to equip six men. Pick out your three best men to go
+with us and we'll make a try at entering."
+
+Bolton strode off into the darkness and returned in a few moments with
+three men at his heels. Dr. Bird spoke briefly to the operatives, all
+of them men who had been his companions on other adventures. He
+explained the need for the vitrilene helmets and shields, and without
+comment the six donned their armor and followed Bolton as he strode
+toward the building. As they approached, a dull red glow could be
+plainly seen through the windows, and Dr. Bird paused and studied the
+phenomenon for a moment.
+
+"I don't know what that means, Bolton," he said softly, "but I don't
+like the looks of it. Stanesky is up to some devilment or other. I
+wouldn't be a bit surprised to find out that he knows all about your
+pickets and is ready for a raid."
+
+"We'd better rush the place, then," muttered Bolton.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird nodded agreement and with a sharp command to his men Bolton
+broke into a run. Not a shot was fired as they approached, and the
+front door gave readily to Bolton's touch. At it opened there came a
+grating sound from the roof followed by the whir of a propeller. Dr.
+Bird ran out of the building and glanced up.
+
+"A helicopter!" he cried. "They were expecting us and have escaped!"
+
+He drew his pistol and fired ineffectually at the great bird-like ship
+which was rising almost noiselessly into the air. He cursed and turned
+again to the building.
+
+Bolton still stood in the room which they had first entered. His
+flashlight showed it to be empty, but from under a door on the
+opposite side a line of dull red light glowed evilly. With his pistol
+ready in his hand, Bolton approached the door on hands and knees.
+When he reached it he threw his shoulder against it and dropped flat
+to the floor as the door swung open. No shot greeted him, and he
+stared for a moment and then rose to his feet.
+
+"Nothing in here but some glass statues," he announced.
+
+Dr. Bird followed him into the room. As he looked at what Bolton had
+called glass statues he gasped and shielded his eyes.
+
+"God in Heaven!" he ejaculated. "Those were living men!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before them were three men or what had been three men. All stood in
+strained attitudes with a look of horror frozen on their faces. The
+thing that made the spectators shudder was that their bodies had, by
+some diabolical method, been rendered semi-transparent. The dull red
+light which suffused the room emanated from the three bodies. Dr. Bird
+examined them closely, being careful not to touch them.
+
+"The identity of my treacherous assistant is known," he said grimly as
+he pointed at the middle figure. "It was Gerond. What is this?"
+
+He took an envelope from the hand of the middle figure and opened it.
+A sheet of paper fell out and he picked it up and read it.
+
+"My dear Mr. Bolton," ran the note. "Your methods of tracing and
+picketing my headquarters are so crude as to be almost laughable. This
+base has served its purpose and we were ready to abandon it in any
+event, but I couldn't resist the temptation to let you almost nab us.
+The three men whom you will find here are agents who failed in their
+duty. If you are interested in learning the method of their execution,
+you might take to heart the words of your colleague, Dr. Bird: 'The
+clue lies in those windows.'"
+
+Carnes glanced at the windows and gave a cry of surprise. The glass
+was opaque, as had been the glass in the doctor's laboratory and the
+glass in the infirmary at Atlanta. The fogging however, was much more
+pronounced, and the opaque glass gave faintly the same red effulgence
+which came from the three bodies.
+
+"What does it mean, Doctor?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know, Carnes," said Dr. Bird slowly. "I foresee that I am
+going to have to do a great deal of work on short wave-lengths soon.
+It is doubtless the effect of some modification of the black lamp
+which has done it. Look out!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He leaped to one side as he spoke, drawing Bolton and Carnes with him.
+A panel in the side of the wall opposite the doorway had slid silently
+open and through the opening poured out a beam of fiery red. Full on
+the three bodies it fell, and then spread out to fill the room. Dr.
+Bird had drawn the two nearest men out of the direct beam, but one of
+the secret service men stood full in its path. In the excitement of
+entering he had dropped his vitrilene shield and the livid ray fell
+full on his defenceless body. As they watched an expression of horror
+spread over his face and he strove to move to one side, but he was
+held helpless. Slowly he stiffened; and, as the ray bored through him,
+his body became semi-transparent and the same dull red glow which
+emanated from the three bodies they had found began to shine forth
+from him. Bolton strove to break from the doctor's grasp and rush to
+the rescue but Dr. Bird held him with a grip of iron.
+
+"Too late," he said grimly. "Chalk up another murder to the arch fiend
+who has committed the others. I don't know the nature of that ray and
+vitrilene may not be an adequate defence against its full force. We
+had better get out of here and attack the place from the rear."
+
+Carefully edging their way around the sides of the room, the five men
+made their way out through the door. Dr. Bird slammed the door shut
+behind him and led the way out of the building and around to the
+rear. A door loomed before them and he cautiously tried it. It gave to
+his touch and he entered. As he set his foot on the threshold a
+terrific explosion came from the interior of the building.
+
+"Run!" he shouted as he led the way in retreat. "If that is a radite
+explosion it will act for several seconds!"
+
+From a safe distance they watched. One corner of the building had been
+torn off by the force of the explosion, and as they watched the rest
+of the building gradually collapsed and sank into a pile of ruins.
+
+"They had planned on a visit from us all right," said Dr. Bolton
+grimly. "They had a surprise for us any way we jumped. If we went in
+the front door, that devil's ray was to finish us, and if we went in
+the back door the whole place was arranged to blow up as we entered. I
+only hope that Stanesky thinks that he has got us all and doesn't
+expect an attack on his next base in the morning. If he doesn't, I
+think we may give him a rather unpleasant surprise. Of course, that
+lamp is smashed into atoms and buried under the debris, but I don't
+know what other devil's contraptions that ruin holds. Bolton, have
+your men picket it and allow no one near until I get back. I've got to
+get to a telephone and get a couple of tanks from Meade and a plane or
+two from Langley Field."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two tanks made their way slowly across country. The front of each tank
+was protected by a heavy sheet of vitrilene, while from the turrets of
+the tanks projected the wicked looking muzzles of thirty-seven
+millimeter guns. Overhead two airplanes from Langley Field soared,
+scouting the country. Dr. Bird and Carnes rode in the leading tank.
+
+"It ought to be somewhere near here, unless Karuska lied," said Carnes
+as he swept the country with a pair of binoculars.
+
+"He didn't lie," returned Dr. Bird. "It was his subconscious mind
+that spoke and it never lies. He spoke of the gun emplacement as being
+in a swamp and I have a strong idea that it is submersible. Of course,
+it is bound to be well camouflaged, both from land and from air
+observation."
+
+The planes circled around again and again, quartering the air like a
+pair of well-trained bird dogs will quarter a hunting field. First
+high and then low they swooped back and forth, the tanks lumbering
+slowly along in the same direction. Presently the occupants of the
+leading tank saw one of the planes bank sharply and swing around. It
+dropped to an altitude of only a few hundred feet and turned and went
+back over the ground it had just crossed.
+
+"I believe that fellow sees something!" exclaimed Carnes.
+
+As he spoke, three green Very lights came from the cockpit of the
+plane. The tank driver gave a grunt of satisfaction and turned the
+nose of his vehicle in that direction. The second tank followed.
+
+Hardly had they turned in the new direction before the ground began to
+get soft under their tracks and the heavy vehicles began to sink. The
+driver of the Doctor's tank forced it ahead, but the tank sank deeper
+in the mire until water flowed in around the feet of the occupants.
+
+"I reckon we'll have to get out and walk pretty soon, Doctor," said
+the driver.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird grunted in acquiescence. The tank made its way forward a few
+yards before the engine sputtered and died. The second tank stopped
+when the first one did, fifty yards behind it. Donning vitrilene
+helmets and taking vitrilene shields in their hands, the crews of both
+tanks climbed out into the waist-deep water and gathered around the
+Doctor for orders.
+
+"Form a skirmish line at ten-pace intervals and cross the swamp," he
+directed. "We may meet with no opposition, but if there is, the more
+scattered we are, the safer we will be. You all have hand grenades as
+well as your rifles?"
+
+A murmur of assent answered him and the line formed and started across
+the swamp. They had gone perhaps a hundred yards when three red lights
+came from one of the planes circling overhead.
+
+"Down!" cried the doctor, dropping to his knees in the muck.
+
+Four hundred yards ahead of them a concrete platform emerged from the
+marsh and rose slowly into the air. It was roofed with a dome of what
+looked like plate glass, but which the doctor shrewdly suspected was
+vitrilene. When the base of the platform was two-feet above the level
+of the water the dome slid silently aside disclosing two men bending
+over a tiny gun. Dr. Bird leveled his binoculars.
+
+"That's the Breslau gun model that was stolen as sure as I'm a foot
+high!" he cried. "They must have made some miniature shells and be
+planning to fire it."
+
+Slowly a pall of intense blackness rose from the marsh and enveloped
+the platform and hid it from view. A whining noise came from overhead,
+and then a crash like a thunderbolt. The blast of the explosion threw
+the attackers face down in the swamp, and when they arose and looked
+back there was merely a gaping hole where the leading tank had been.
+The second tank suddenly seemed to rise in the air and fly into
+millions of tiny fragments, and a second thunderous blast sent them
+again to their knees.
+
+"Radite!" bellowed Dr. Bird to Carnes. "Imagine the effect if that had
+been a full charge fired from a completed Breslau gun! Watch the
+planes, now. I think they are going to drop a few eggs on them."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The black mist cleared as if by magic and the platform was in plain
+view. The big glass dome rolled back into place as the two planes
+swept over at an elevation of two thousand feet. From each one a
+small black cigar-shaped object was released and fell in a long
+parabola toward the earth. The glass dome which had been closing over
+the gun platform rolled quickly back and a long beam of intense
+blackness pierced the heavens. First one and then the other of the
+falling bombs disappeared from view into it, and then the black column
+faded from view. The two bombs fell with increasing speed but the dome
+closed over the platform before they struck. The two hit the dome at
+almost the same instant and instead of the blinding crash they
+expected, the watchers saw the bombs rebound from the dome and fall
+harmlessly into the water.
+
+"Stymied!" muttered the doctor. "I wonder what other properties that
+confounded lamp has."
+
+He resumed his advance, Carnes and the soldiers keeping abreast of
+him. When they were within two hundred yards of the platform it rose
+again and the transparent dome rolled back. A beam of black shot forth
+over the swamp, searching them out and hiding them from view. First
+one and then another felt the effects of the black beam; but the
+vitrilene which the Doctor had provided stood them in good stead, and,
+aside from a slight shortening of their breath, none of the attackers
+felt any the worse.
+
+"Come on, men!" cried the Doctor as his athletic figure plowed forward
+through the breast-deep water. "That is their worst weapon and it is
+harmless against us!"
+
+Cheering, they fought their way toward the platform. It sunk for a
+moment and then rose again. As the dome swung back a sharp crackle of
+machine-gun fire sounded and the water before them was whipped into
+foam by the plunging bullets. One of the soldiers gave a sharp cry and
+slumped forward into the water.
+
+"Fire at will!" shouted the lieutenant in command.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A crackle of rifle fire answered the tattoo of the machine-gun, and
+the sharp ping of bullets striking on the dome could be plainly heard.
+An occasional shot kicked up a spurt of white dust from the concrete,
+but the machine-gun kept up a steady rattle of fire and the soldiers
+kept their heads almost at the level of the water. There came the roar
+of an airplane motor, and one of the planes swept over the platform, a
+hundred yards in the air, with two machine-guns spraying streams of
+bullets onto the platform. Two men abandoned their machine-gun and
+crouched under the partially folded-back dome as the second plane
+swept over, and Dr. Bird took advantage of the lull to advance his
+party a few yards nearer. Again the defenders of the platform rushed
+to their gun, but the first plane had turned and swooped down with
+both guns going, and again they were forced to take shelter while the
+Doctor and his force made another advance.
+
+The second plane had turned and followed the first, but the defenders
+had had enough. The transparent dome closed over them and the platform
+sank into the marsh. With a shout, Dr. Bird led the way forward again.
+
+The attackers were within a hundred yards of the platform when it
+again rose above the surface of the water. The guns had disappeared,
+but in their place stood an airship. It was a small affair with stubby
+wings above which were two helicopter blades revolving at high speed.
+No sound of a motor could be heard.
+
+The transparent dome rolled back and like a bullet the little craft
+shot into the air, followed by a futile volley from the soldiers.
+Hardly had it appeared than the two airplanes bore down on it with
+machine-guns going. The helicopter paid no attention to them for a
+moment, and then came a puff of smoke from its side. The leading plane
+swerved sharply and the helicopter fired again. The leading plane
+maneuvered about, trying to get a machine-gun to bear, while the
+second plane climbed swiftly to get above the helicopter and pour a
+deadly stream of fire down into it. It gained position and swooped
+down to the attack, but another puff of smoke came from the side of
+the helicopter and there was a thunderous report and a blinding flash
+in the sky. As the smoke cleared away, no trace of the ill-fated plane
+could be seen. The helicopter hung motionless in the air as though
+daring the remaining plane to attack.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The plane accepted the challenge and bore down at full speed on the
+stranger. Again came a puff of smoke, but the plane swerved and an
+answering shot came from its side. It was above the helicopter, and
+the shell which missed its mark plunged to the ground. When it struck
+there came a roar and a flash and the whole earth seemed to shake. The
+helicopter shot upward into the air and forward, both its elevating
+fans and its propellers whirling blurs of light. The airplane followed
+at its sharpest climbing angle, but was helpless to compete with its
+swifter climbing rival.
+
+"He's got away!" groaned Carnes.
+
+"Not yet, old dear!" cried the Doctor hopping with excitement. "He
+isn't safe yet. I never told you, but one Breslau gun had been made
+and it is on that plane. It has deadly accuracy and is good for
+fifteen miles. That's Lieutenant Dreen at the controls and Mason at
+the gun."
+
+As he spoke the plane swung around and made a half loop. For a few
+yards it flew upside down and then whirled swiftly. As it turned there
+came a sharp report and a puff of smoke from its rear cockpit. High
+above, the helicopter had ceased climbing and hovered motionless. As
+the plane fired, the helicopter shot forward like an arrow from a bow,
+and thereby spelled its doom. Not for nothing did Captain Mason bear
+the title of the best aerial gunner in the Air Corps. He had foreseen
+what the action of his opponent would be and had allowed for just such
+a move. Far up in the sky came a blinding flash and a cloud of smoke.
+When the smoke cleared the sky was empty, except for a little
+scattered debris falling slowly to the ground.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And that's that!" exclaimed Dr. Bird as he finished his examination
+of the underground laboratory with which the gun platform connected.
+"The lamp has gone to glory with Breslau's gun model and two of the
+best brains of the Young Labor party. I am sure that Stanesky was one
+of those two men. I wish the whole gang had been on board."
+
+"Don't you think that this is the end of it, Doctor?" asked Carnes.
+
+"No, Carnes, I don't. We know that the real brains of this outfit is
+Saranoff, and Saranoff is still alive. He probably won't try to use
+his black lamp again, because I will have a defence against it in a
+short time, now that I have seen it in action, but he'll try something
+else. The whole object of life to a loyal citizen of Bolshevikia is to
+reduce the whole world to the barbarous level in which they hold
+Russia, and they will spare no pains or effort to accomplish it. The
+greatest obstacle to their success at present is the President of the
+United States. He is loved and respected by the whole world, and if he
+is spared he will forge the world into a great machine for the
+preservation of peace and universal good will. That would be fatal to
+Bolshevikia's plans, and they will spare no effort to remove him. By
+the grace of God, we have saved him from harm so far, but until we
+remove Saranoff permanently from the scene, I will never feel safe for
+him."
+
+"What do you suppose they'll try next, Doctor?"
+
+"That, Carnes, time alone will tell."
+
+
+
+
+Phalanxes of Atlans
+
+BEGINNING A TWO-PART NOVEL
+
+_By F. V. W. Mason_
+
+[Illustration: _Agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped
+and worried their prey._]
+
+[Sidenote: Only in dim legends did mankind remember Atlantis and the
+Lost Tribes--until Victor Nelson's extraordinary adventure in the
+unknown arctic.]
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+The ice suddenly gave way under his foot, hurling Victor Nelson
+violently forward to lie in the deep snow at the bottom of a tiny
+crevasse, down which the merciless gale moaned like an anguished
+demon.
+
+"It's no use," he muttered bitterly. "We've fought hard, but we're
+done for."
+
+He lay still, stupidly watching his breath form tiny beads of ice on
+the ends of the fur which lined his parka. Until that moment he had
+not realized how thoroughly exhausted he was. Every muscle of his
+starved, bruised body ached unbearably. It wasn't so bad lying there
+in the soft snow. He could rest, then look later for the ice hummock
+behind which the plane lay sheltered. Rest! That's what he needed, a
+good long rest.
+
+But deep within him, a primal instinct stabbed his waning
+consciousness. "No," he gasped, and blinked his reddened eyes behind
+smoked goggles which dulled the shimmer of the aurora. "If I stop,
+I'll never get up."
+
+Shaken by the terrific velocity of the arctic gale he numbly clambered
+to his feet, then stooped with a stiff awkward motion to retrieve a
+Winchester rifle which lay half buried in the snow beside the blurred
+imprint of his body.
+
+"Wonder if Alden had any better luck?" The question burned dully in
+his brain. "Don't suppose so; there can't be anything alive in this
+God-awful wilderness." As he stumbled on he found no answer in an
+unbroken vista of wind-scored ice and drifting snow that, swirling
+high into the air, momentarily cut off the view of that black line of
+ice-capped mountains barely visible on the horizon.
+
+"Yes, if he hasn't found anything, we'll be dead or frozen stiff
+before to-morrow."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His soul--that of a true explorer--revolted, not at the thought of
+death, but that his and Alden's courageously won discovery of a
+majestic mountain range towering high over a polar region marked
+"unexplored" on the maps would now never be made public.
+
+Leaning forward against the merciless icy blast he painfully picked
+his way over a treacherous ice ridge, to be faintly encouraged by the
+fact that the towerlike hummock of ice marking the position of the
+plane now lay but a few hundred yards ahead.
+
+Bitterly he cursed that demon of ill-fortune who had sent the blinding
+snow storm which had forced down the plane ten long days ago at the
+very beginning of its triumphant return flight to the base at Cape
+Richards. Since that hour the storm gods had emptied the vials of
+their wrath upon the luckless explorers. Day after day, cyclonic winds
+made all thought of a take-off suicidal in the extreme. Three days
+ago the last of their food had given out, and, he mused, starvation is
+an ill companion for despair.
+
+Slip, slide and fall! On he fought until the final barrier was reached
+and he stood staring hopelessly down into a small natural amphitheater
+which sheltered the great monoplane. The ship was still there, its
+engine snugged in a canvas shroud and with the soft, dry snow banked
+up high in the lee of its silver gray fuselage. Numbly, like a man in
+the grip of a painful coma, Nelson shielded his face with a furry hand
+to scan the surrounding terrain. "Hell!" The door block of the igloo
+they had built was still snowed up; Alden was not there!
+
+"He's not back," he muttered, while his body swayed beneath the gale
+which smote him with fierce, unseen fists. "Poor devil, I hope he
+hasn't lost the way."
+
+All the bitterness of undeserved defeat stung his soul as he started
+down the incline into the hollow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Suddenly he paused. The rifle flew into the ready position and his
+chilled thumb drew back the hammer. "What's this?" On the snow at his
+feet was a bright, scarlet splash, dreadfully distinct against the
+white background. While his dazed brain struggled to register what his
+eyes saw, he looked to the right and left and discovered several more
+of the hideous spots. Then an object that gleamed dully in the polar
+twilight attracted his attention. He lumbered forward, stooped stiffly
+and caught up a long, half round strip of bronze.
+
+"What? Why? Oh--I'm crazy. I'm seeing things!" The pain in his empty
+stomach was now becoming excruciating. To steady himself he shut his
+eyes, shook his head as though to clear it, then looked again at that
+strip of metal in his hand. Attached to it were two slender strips of
+leather like straps, ending in small, bronze buckles.
+
+"Why, it's not from the plane," he stammered aloud. "Damned if it
+doesn't look like a greave the old Greek warriors used to wear to
+protect their shins."
+
+Suddenly alarmed and mystified beyond words, he shuffled forward over
+the snow, the greave yet clutched in a fur gloved hand. Presently two
+more objects, already half buried by the stinging, swirling drifts,
+caught his attention. One was the stock of Alden's rifle, protruding
+starkly brown from the unrelieved whiteness, and the other was a
+broken wooden shaft that ended a graceful but wickedly sharp bronze
+spear head.
+
+"I've either gone crazy," he said, "or I'm delirious. Yes, I must be
+clean nutty! There _couldn't_ be a human settlement within a thousand
+miles. Let's see what's happened."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the snow of a little wind-sheltered space behind the igloo he
+discovered the unmistakable and ominous signs of a struggle. An
+indefinite number of footprints, blurred but enormous in size, were
+marked in the snow. Here and there deep furrows mutely testified how
+Alden and the enemies against whom he struggled had reeled back and
+forth in vicious combat over a considerable area. Then, shaken by a
+new fear, he discovered Alden's left glove and a rag of some peculiar
+thick material that seemed to have a metallic finish. But what aroused
+his gravest fears were the numerous splashes of blood that here and
+there streaked the snow in gruesome relief.
+
+Only a moment Nelson stood, shaken by the merciless wind, scanning the
+piece of bronzed armor between his gloved hands with a fresh interest.
+It was beautifully fashioned, and decorated at the knee point with the
+wonderfully wrought figure of a dolphin.
+
+If he could only think clearly! But his brain seemed to lie in a
+red-hot skull. "Whatever's happened," he muttered, "I'd better not
+waste time; they couldn't have been here so long ago. Poor Alden! I
+wonder what kind of devils caught him?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Even before he had finished the sentence the aviator had taken up the
+partially obliterated trail of spattered blood drops. That what he
+sought appeared to be a maraudering party of giants restrained him not
+at all. The one clear thought burning in his weary brain was that
+Richard Alden, his best friend--the man with whom he had traveled over
+half the world, by whose side he had faced many a perilous
+situation--must at that moment lie in peril, the extent of which he
+could only surmise.
+
+"Must have been about a dozen of them," he said thickly. And, holding
+the Winchester ready, he commenced once more to plod on through the
+stinging sheets of wind-driven ice particles. More than once he had
+great difficulty in not losing that crimson trail, for here and there
+the restless, white crystals completely blotted out the splashes.
+
+All at once Nelson checked his pathetically slow progress, finding
+himself on the top of an eminence, looking down in what appeared to be
+a vastly deep natural amphitheater of snow and ice. At the bottom, and
+perhaps a hundred yards distant, was a curious black oval from which
+appeared to rise a dense, wind-whipped column of whitish vapor.
+
+"My eyes must be going back on me," muttered Nelson through stiffened
+lips. How intolerably heavy his fur suit seemed! His strength was
+about gone and that curious black mouthlike circle seemed infinitely
+far away. But, spurred by fears for his friend, he started downward
+for the precipitious trail leading directly towards it.
+
+Once he stepped inside the crater, he became conscious of a terrific
+side pressure which gripped him as a whirlpool seizes a luckless
+swimmer. The wind buffetted him from all angles, dealing him powerful
+blows on face and body, which, too strong for his weary body, sent him
+reeling weakly, drunkenly across the hard, glare ice towards the
+vortex. Twice he slipped, each time finding it harder to arise. But
+at last he approached what on closer inspection proved to be a
+subterranean vent of black rock.
+
+"Steam!" he gasped. "It's steam coming out of there!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Swayed by a dozen conflicting emotions, he paused, the Winchester
+barrel wavering like a reed in his enfeebled grasp.
+
+"The whole thing's crazy," he decided. "I must be frozen and lying
+somewhere, delirious. Poor Dick! Can't help him much now."
+
+Like a man in a nightmare who advances but feels nothing under his
+feet, Nelson staggered on towards that huge, gaping aperture of black
+rock. On the threshold a pool of melted snow water made him stare.
+
+"Hell!" he said. "It's only a volcanic vent of some kind." Then dimly
+came the recollection of Eskimo legends concerning thermal springs
+beyond the desolate and unknown reaches of Grant Land.
+
+His mind in an indescribable turmoil, Nelson splashed across a hundred
+yards of sodden snow, then shivered on wading knee deep through a pool
+of melted ice. Now he stood on the very threshold of that awful
+opening, dense clouds of vapor beating warmly against his chilled
+features.
+
+His goggles fogged at once, blinding him effectively as, with reason
+staggering under the accumulated stress of starvation and the
+circumstances of Alden's disappearance, he groped his way a few feet
+into the vent. With his left hand he pulled up the glasses from his
+sunken, blood-shot eyes.
+
+"It's warm, by God!" he cried in astonishment as the skin exposed by
+lifting the goggles came in contact with the air. "Must be some kind
+of earth-warmed cave."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Increasingly mystified, he caught up his rifle and strode on down the
+passage, at that moment illuminated by the last unearthly rays of the
+aurora borealis. A single, dazzling beam played before him like a
+powerful searchlight, to light a high vaulted tunnel of basalt rocks
+which were distorted by some long-gone convulsion of the earth into a
+hundred weird cleavages and faults. For that brief instant he found he
+could see perhaps a hundred feet down into a high roofed passage,
+along the top of which poured a tremendous stream of billowing,
+writhing steam.
+
+"If this doesn't beat all," he murmured; but for all of his
+apprehension he did not pause. Those bloody splashes bespeaking
+Alden's pressing need urged him on. "Looks like I'm taking a one way
+trip into Hell itself. Well, we'll soon see."
+
+Slipping and sliding over an almost impassable array of black rocks
+and boulders, Nelson fought his way forward, conscious that with every
+stride the air grew damper and warmer. Soon trickles of sweat were
+pouring down over his chest, tickling unbearably.
+
+Then all at once the ray of light faded, leaving him immersed in a
+blackness equalled only by the gloom of a subterranean vault. He
+stopped and, resting his rifle against a nearby invisible rock, threw
+back the parka hood and pulled off his gloves. He was amazed to feel
+how warm the strong air current was on his hands.
+
+"Beats all," he muttered heavily. "I wonder where they've taken
+Alden?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile his hands groped through fur garments now wet with
+melted-snow and ice particles, searching for the catch to open that
+pocket in which lay a small but powerful electric flashlight, an
+instrument without which no far-flying aviator finds himself. After a
+moment's fumbling, his yet stiffened fingers encountered the
+cylindrical flash and, with a low cry of satisfaction, he drew it
+forth to press the button.
+
+"Mighty useful. I--" The words stopped, frozen on his lips. Before the
+parka edge his close cropped hair seemed to rise, and his breath
+stopped midway in his lungs. Sharp electric shocks shook him, for
+there, half revealed in the feeble flashlight's glare, was a sight
+which shook his sanity to the snapping point. Not fifty feet away two
+eyes, large as dinner plates, with narrow vertical red irises, were
+trained on him. Rooted to the ground by the paralysis of utter horror,
+Nelson saw that their color was a weird, unhealthy, greenish white,
+rather like the color of a radio-light watch dial.
+
+Strangely intense, these huge orbs wavered not at all, filling him
+with an unnameable dread, while the strong odor of musk assailed his
+nostrils. The flashlight slipped from between Nelson's fingers and, no
+longer having his thumb on the button, flickered out.
+
+Helpless, Nelson stood transfixed against a boulder, aware that the
+strange, musky scent was becoming stronger. Then to his ears came a
+dry scrabbling as of some large body stealthily advancing. Those
+horrible, unearthly eyes were coming nearer! Fierce, terrible shocks
+of fear gripped the exhausted aviator. Then the impulse of
+self-preservation, that most elementary of all instincts, forced him
+to snatch up the rifle, to sight hastily, blindly, between those two,
+great greenish eyes. Choking out a strangled sob of desperation,
+Nelson made his trembling finger close over the cold strip of steel
+that must be the trigger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Like a stage trick, the cavern was momentarily lit by a strong, orange
+yellow glare. Then the Winchester's report thundered and roared
+deafeningly; coincidentally arose a nerve-shattering scream. An
+exhalation, foul as a corpse long unburied, fanned his face.
+Terrified, he flattened to the rock wall as a huge, though dangerously
+agile body hurtled by with the speed of a runaway horse. Presently
+followed the sound of a ponderous fall, then a series of shrill,
+ear-piercing gibberings and squeakings, like those of a titanic
+rat--squeaks that rang like the chorus of Hell itself. Gradually they
+grew fainter, while in the darkness the heavy air of the tunnel became
+rank with the odor of clotting blood.
+
+Nelson remained where he was, shaking like a frightened horse and
+bathed with a cold sweat.
+
+"Wonder what it was?" he muttered numbly.
+
+He broke off, for in the terrible darkness sounded a low but perfectly
+audible _thud! thud! thud! thud!_--and also the subtle noise of some
+rough surface rasping gently over the stone. His nerves crisped and
+shrieked for relief.
+
+"It's coming again!" he told himself, and ejected the spent cartridge
+from the Winchester. "No use--it'll get me, but I may as well fight as
+long as I can."
+
+Even stronger grew the musty smell of blood while that uncanny _thud!
+thud!_ sound continued at regular intervals. Nelson waited, breath
+halted and finger on trigger, but still the darkness yielded no
+glimpse of those awful saucer-like eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Emboldened, he stooped and, jerking off his left glove, commenced to
+grope among the boulders. Somewhere near at his feet the flashlight
+must be lying. Hoping against hope that its fall had not shattered the
+bulb, he ran his fingers over the cold, damp stones, every instant
+expecting to feel the clutch of the unseen monster. How tiny, how puny
+he was! All at once his fingers encountered the smooth familiar shape
+of the flash and he raised it cautiously through the darkness.
+Patiently he shifted the Winchester to his left hand in order to set
+the flashlight on the top of a flat rock, pointing it as nearly as he
+could determine in the direction from whence came those ominous,
+stealthy sounds.
+
+"Guess I'll switch on the light," he decided, "and trust to drop
+whatever it is before it reaches me."
+
+Taking a fresh grip on his quivering nerves, Nelson cautiously cocked
+the .38-55, cuddled the familiar stock to his shoulder. He sighted,
+then with his right hand pushed down the catch lever of the
+flashlight.
+
+Instantly a dazzling white beam shot forth to shatter the gloom. The
+hair on the back of Nelson's hands itched unbearably, while the cold
+fingers of madness clutched at his brain, for the sight which met his
+eyes all but bereft him of his wavering sanity. There, belly up,
+across a low ridge of basalt, lay a hideous reptile, which in form
+faintly resembled an enormous and fantastic kangaroo. Its scabby belly
+was of the unhealthy yellow of a grub, a hue which gave way to a
+leaden gray as the wart-covered skin reached the back. Two enormous
+hind legs, each thick as a man's torso and each equipped with three
+dagger-like talons, struck out in helpless fury at the air, while a
+long, lizard-like tail threshed powerfully back and forth, scattering
+ponderous boulders right and left as though they had been marbles. The
+flashlight being trained as it was, the monster's head and
+forequarters were invisible, all save two very much smaller and
+shorter front legs which, like the hinder ones, clawed spasmodically.
+
+"The D. T's!" gasped Nelson, conscious that he was trembling like an
+aspen. He suppressed a wild desire to laugh. "Yes, I've gone crazy!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He glanced downwards and leaped swiftly back, for, creeping over the
+stones towards his fur outer boots, meandered a wide rivulet of bright
+scarlet blood. From its surface rose small curling feathers of steam
+which, drifting towards the tunnel's roof, merged with that gray,
+vaporous current flowing steadily towards the sunless Arctic expanse
+outside.
+
+It took Nelson a long five minutes to sufficiently recover his
+equilibrium for action. All he could do was to stare at that
+grotesque, gargoyle-like creature as it writhed in leisurely and
+persistent death throes.
+
+"Guess I winged it all right! My God, what a nasty beast! Looks like
+one of those allosaurs I read about in college. It couldn't be,
+though--that tribe of dinosaurs died out five million years ago."
+
+Cautiously he scrambled around among the high black stones, casting
+the search light beams before him and holding the Winchester always
+ready in his hand while trying to recall snatches of palaeontology
+studied at college long years ago.
+
+"Yes, it must be a survival of one of the carnivorous dinosaurs," he
+decided, then paused, increasingly conscious of that steady thudding
+noise. What caused it?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At last he found himself before the creature's gigantic and repulsive
+head which lay limp over a blood bathed stone, huge jaws partially
+open, and serrated rows of wicked, stiletto-sharp teeth gleaming
+yellowly in the flashlight's rays. The head in shape was bullet-like,
+ending in a blunt nose as big as a bushel basket and in two prominent
+nostrils. The green, lidless eyes were still open, shining faintly,
+and seemed to follow his movements, but the steaming blood poured with
+the force of a small hose from between triple row of bayonetlike teeth
+that curved inward like those of a shark, to splash and bubble freely
+to the rock floor and to dribble horribly over the warty, gray hide.
+
+Then Nelson discovered an amazing fact. About the great scaly neck,
+thick as a boy's waist, was fastened a ponderous collar, set with
+short, sharp spikes.
+
+Nelson gasped. "What in hell!" he cried. "This damn thing's somebody's
+property!" His mind, staggered at the thought of dealing with a race
+that could and would domesticate such a hideous monster. "Well, it's
+no use standing here," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his eyes.
+"This isn't getting poor Alden away from those devils."
+
+_Thud! thud!_ In the act of turning he paused, listened once more.
+Then he discovered to his amazement that the heart of the apparently
+dead reptile was still beating strongly. He could even see the yellow
+skin of its belly rise and fall. The effect was grotesque, uncanny.
+
+"Of course," muttered the shaken aviator, "I'd forgotten a reptile's
+ganglions will keep on beating for hours, like that shark we killed
+off Paumotu. Its heart didn't stop for five hours."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leaving the slain allosaurus behind, the aviator limped onwards,
+doggedly following a trail which wound down, ever onwards, into the
+depths of the earth. Gradually the air became so filled with steam
+that he stripped off his fur jumper and trousers. Clad in a khaki
+flannel shirt, serge trousers and shoepacks, he paused long enough to
+count his cartridges, and found there were just fourteen. Hell! Not
+very many with which to venture into an unknown abyss. He distributed
+them in his pockets, and, somewhat relieved of the weight of the fur
+suit, took up his advance, playing the flashlight ahead of him as he
+went.
+
+"Poor Alden," he thought. "I wonder if he's still alive?"
+
+Every moment expecting to stumble over the mangled corpse of his
+friend he hurried on, making better time over the cavern floor, but
+soon even the lighter clothing commenced to feel oppressive.
+
+"Must be the earth's heat," he muttered, while the steam clouds rolled
+by him like ghostly serpents. "Guess the crust is very thin
+here--something like Yellowstone. Probably I'll find some thermal
+springs ahead."
+
+Just as he spoke the tunnel took a sharp turn to the right. He
+scrambled around the bend to stand petrified, for with the suddenness
+of lightning a flood of dazzling orange-red light sprang into being.
+Momentarily it blinded him, then revealed strange, incomprehensible
+scenes. It appeared that two short shafts of incandescent flame
+roared through transparent columns of glass on either side of the
+passage some fifty yards distant. Subconsciously Nelson realized that
+these columns began and ended in stonework that was smooth and well
+joined.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As his eyes became accustomed to the glare he distinguished beside
+each light pillar two bronze doors, some eight feet high and
+semicircular in shape. These had been evidently pulled back to expose
+the lights. Then his breath stopped in his throat, for there, standing
+beside them, was a gleaming group of six or eight of the strangest
+creatures Nelson could ever have imagined. They were men--there was no
+mistaking that--men of normal size, but they were so helmeted and
+incased in a curious type of armor that for a moment he believed them
+gargoyles.
+
+Quite motionless he stood, clutching the cold barrel of the Winchester
+in a spasmodic grip and staring up at those two watch-towers, built
+like gigantic swallows' nests into sheer rock wall. He could see the
+warriors stationed there, peering curiously down at him from the
+depths of heavy, bronze helmets--helmets which in shape much resembled
+those of an ancient Grecian hoplite, for the nose guards and cheek
+pieces descended so low as to completely mask the features of those
+strange guards. For crests these helmets bore exquisitely wrought
+bronze dolphins, with brilliant blue eyes of sapphire. But what
+fascinated Nelson most was the curious armor they wore. Beneath breast
+plates of polished bronze, these strange warriors wore what seemed to
+be a kind of chain mail--yet it was not that, for the texture had more
+the appearance of some heavy but pliant leather, finished with a
+metallic surfacing.
+
+Suddenly the spell of mutual amazement was broken, for a tall warrior
+in a breast plate that glittered with diamonds and seemed altogether
+more ornate than the rest, clapped a short brass horn to his lips and
+blew a single piercing note. At once there appeared on the tunnel's
+floor, not a hundred yards from the startled aviator, a rank of
+perhaps twenty soldiers, accoutred exactly like those he beheld by the
+light boxes. They came scrambling over the boulders, their shadows
+grotesquely preceding them. In their hands were long shafted spears,
+and on their left arms rectangular shields, charged with a lively
+dolphin in the act of swimming. Some of them, however, held short
+hoses in their hands, hoses that sprouted from tight brass coils
+strapped to their broad shoulders.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Again the commanding figure aloft raised the horn. From the tail of
+his eye Nelson caught the gleam of metal in the orange glare. While a
+blast, harsh as the scream of a fire siren, echoed and re-echoed
+eerily through the passage, there appeared a fresh detachment. Nelson
+shrank back in horror, for these bronze-armored warriors led, at the
+end of a powerful chain, two more of those huge, ferocious allosaurs,
+exactly like the one he had slain but a short while back.
+
+Like well regulated automatons the hoplite rank opened to permit the
+passage of those repulsive, eager monsters, then closed up again and
+halted, spears levelled before them in the precise manner of an
+ancient Grecian phalanx, while the men with those curious hose-like
+contrivances ran out to guard the flanks.
+
+"I'm done for now," thought Nelson as he threw off the Winchester's
+safety catch. "I suppose they'll turn those nightmares loose on me."
+
+He was right. For all the world as though they led war dogs, the
+keepers in brazen armor advanced, the dull metallic clank of their
+accoutrement clearly discernible above the sibilant hiss of their
+hideous charges, which hopped along grotesquely like kangaroos, using
+their long and powerful tails as a counterpoise.
+
+Then the officer watching from the left hand swallow's nest shouted a
+hoarse, unintelligible command, whereupon one of the keepers raised
+his right hand in a sharp gesture that instantly flattened the
+incredible monster to earth, exactly like an obedient bird dog.
+
+As in a fantastic dream Nelson watched one of the armored guardians
+unsnap the hook of the powerful chain by which his allosaurus was
+secured. Then, whistling sharply, he clapped his hands and pointed
+straight at the motionless aviator. The creature's green white eyes
+flickered back and forth, and a chill, colder than the outer Arctic,
+invaded Nelson's breast as those unearthly eyes came to rest upon him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile the other allosaurus remained crouched, whining impatiently
+for its keepers to cast it loose.
+
+Fixing burning eyes upon the American, the foremost keeper threw back
+his head. "Ahre-e-e!" he shouted. Instantly the freed allosaurus
+arose, balanced its enormous bulk, then commenced to leap forward at
+tremendous speed, clearing fifteen or twenty feet with each jump and
+uttering a curious, whistling scream as it bore down, a terrifying
+vision of gleaming teeth and talons.
+
+Shaking off the paralysis of despair, Nelson whipped up the Winchester
+and, as before, sighted squarely between those blazing, gemlike eyes.
+When the huge monster was but twenty feet away he fired, and the
+report thundered and banged in the cavern like the crash of a summer
+storm. In mid-air the ghastly carnivore teemed to stagger. Its tail
+twitched sharply as in an effort to recover its balance. Then, quite
+like any normal creature that is shot through the head, it lost all
+sense of direction and made great convulsive leaps, around and around,
+clawing madly at the air, bumping into the rock walls and uttering
+soul-shaking shrieks of agony. Like a gargoyle gone mad it reeled back
+towards the startled rank of spearmen. As it came, Nelson saw the
+second allosaurus rear itself backwards and, balanced on its tail,
+strike out with powerful hind legs as its maddened fellow drew near.
+
+Like razors the great talons ripped through the dying allosaurus'
+belly, exposing the gray-red intestines as the stricken creature raced
+by, snapping crazily at the empty air.
+
+A single mighty sweep of the monster's tail crushed five or six of the
+panic-stricken keepers and guards, strewing them like broken and
+abandoned marionettes among the stones. Hissing and obviously
+terrified, the second dinosaur watched the dying struggles of its
+mate; then, obedient to a terrified shout from its keepers, wheeled
+about to join in a frantic rout of the spearmen, who, casting aside
+shield, spear and brass coil, fled for dear life in the direction of
+those invisible passages through which they had appeared.
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+No less amazed and alarmed than those vanished soldiers, Nelson
+remained rooted to the ground, conscious that in the swallow's nest
+overhead there remained only the officer--a tall, broad shouldered man
+with golden beard showing from under the cheek pieces of his helmet.
+Across the body of the still writhing monster their glances met.
+Nelson could see by the light of those strange pillars of fire that
+the other's eyes were blue as any Norseman's. Leaning far out over the
+stone parapet the other stared down upon the aviator from the depths
+of his jewelled helmet in a strange mixture of curiosity and awe.
+
+Suddenly Nelson's nerves snapped and he shook a trembling fist at the
+martial figure above.
+
+"Go away!" he shrieked, and reeled back on the edge of collapse. "Go
+away, you damn phantom! You're driving me crazy--crazy, I tell you!"
+
+The other stiffened, then turned and, uttering a hoarse shout,
+vanished, leaving the noiseless and apparently heatless pillar of fire
+flaring steadily.
+
+Recovering somewhat, Nelson set his teeth, advanced to the nearest
+corpse, stooped and regarded him who lay there, with bronze helmet
+fallen off.
+
+"It's a man and not a ghost," he murmured as his finger encountered
+flesh that was still warm. "Red headed too, or I'm a liar. Now what in
+hell is all this?"
+
+For all his bewilderment he began to feel better and his swaying
+reason became steadier. "Bronze, bronze--nothing but bronze," the
+aviator told himself as he further examined the scattered equipment.
+"Evidently these fellows don't know the use of iron or steel."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With increased curiosity he bent over another splendidly built dead
+man who lay with back broken and sightless eyes staring fixedly onto
+the steam current meandering silently along the cavern's roof. From
+the fallen man's belt were slung half a dozen curious weapons that
+looked not unlike potato mashers, except that they were bronze headed
+and had wooden handles.
+
+"Hum," he commented, "kind of like the grenades the Boche used in the
+late lamented. Wonder what the devil these are?"
+
+Suddenly his ear detected the sound of a footstep and, on looking
+swiftly up, he beheld that same yellow bearded officer who had
+directed the attack. This strange being had taken off his ponderous
+helmet to carry it in his left hand, while his right was held
+vertically in the immemorial sign of peace. On he came with powerful
+martial strides, a brilliant green cloak flapping gently behind him
+and the jewels in his brazen armor glinting like so many tiny colored
+eyes. The stranger was indeed handsome, Nelson noticed--and then he
+received perhaps the greatest shock of the whole chimerical adventure.
+The gold bearded man halted some twenty feet away, smiled and spoke in
+a curiously inflected but perfectly recognizable voice.
+
+"Welcome to the Empire of the Atlans. Prithee, Wanderer, what be thy
+name?"
+
+For a long moment Nelson was entirely too taken back to make a reply.
+Desperately his already perplexed brain tried to comprehend. Here was
+a handsome six-footer, dressed in the arms of an ancient race,
+speaking English of the seventeenth century!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As at a phantom, he regarded the stalwart, faintly ominous figure,
+from heavy leather sandals to bronze greaves, thence to wide belt from
+which dangled more of those curious grenadelike objects. His glance
+paused on the officer's beautifully wrought bronze cuirasse or breast
+plate which showed in relief an emerald scaled dolphin and trident.
+These, Nelson decided, must be the national emblems of this
+incomprehensible nation.
+
+Then their eyes met, held each other a long moment until the tall
+officer's features, disfigured by a long red scar across the jaw,
+broke into a hard smile.
+
+"Hero Giles Hudson begs thy pardon," he said, "but methought thou
+spoke in the language of Sir Henry Hudson, my ancestor?"
+
+"Sir Henry Hudson!" stammered Nelson incredulously. "The old explorer
+whose men turned him adrift? So that's why you're talking embalmed
+English!" In desperation his weary brain strove to understand.
+
+"I know naught," replied the other with a grave smile, "save that the
+founder of our royal line spoke what he called English. He came from
+the Ice World to rule wisely over Atlans. He was the greatest
+Atlantean of history."
+
+"Atlantean?" echoed Nelson, while his mind groped frantically in the
+recess of his memory. "Atlans, Atlantis!" A great light broke upon
+him. "The lost Atlantis! Great God!" Had he stumbled upon a remnant of
+that powerful people whose fabled empire had been drowned ten
+centuries ago in the cold waves of the Atlantic?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aye," the yellow haired warrior continued as though reading his
+thoughts, "long centuries ago this valley was peopled by those who
+escaped the great cataclysm which ended the mother country. Later came
+another race, barbarian wanderers like thyself." He bowed for all the
+world like a courtly English gentleman. "But methinks thou art in need
+of food and sustenance?"
+
+"You bet I'm hungry," was Nelson's emphatic reply. "I'm one short jump
+of starvation and the D. T.'s. But hold on a minute," he cried. "I'm
+looking for a friend of mine. He went by here, didn't he?"
+
+"Aye." A crafty expression Nelson did not like crept into Hero Giles
+Hudson's face as he solemnly inclined his head.
+
+"For the nonce, fair sir, thy companion is hale and sound. I beg your
+patience."
+
+With a quick gesture the Atlantean raised his dolphin-shaped horn and
+blew three short blasts while Nelson, in sudden alarm, cocked his
+rifle and brought it in line with the other's chest. The glittering
+officer saw the motion, but made no effort to move from the line of
+sights.
+
+"Thy gesture avails naught," said he with stiff courtesy. "When Hero
+Giles gives his word, it stands good though Heliopolis and the Empire
+of the Atlans fall."
+
+One by one half a dozen spearmen appeared, all obviously very
+frightened and only moved by an apparently Spartan discipline.
+Promptly they saluted, whereupon the Hero--as his title appeared to
+be--uttered a number of brief commands in some guttural language
+entirely unintelligible to the dazed aviator.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Presently a strange column appeared, composed of some fifteen or
+twenty disarmed men marching between a double rank of heavily equipped
+hoplites. As they drew near, they clasped imploring hands and
+evidently begged for mercy from the stern, tight jawed figure at
+Nelson's side. Contemptuous and unhearing the prisoners' piteous
+pleadings and lamentations, Hero Giles scowled upon them and
+deliberately turned his back.
+
+"What are they?" inquired Nelson, vaguely alarmed. "Enemies?"
+
+"Yes." There was a certain bitter savagery in the speaker's voice.
+"These are the dauntless defenders of Atlans who ran at the report of
+thy weapon. Presently they die."
+
+It was useless to interfere. The horrified aviator knew it and watched
+with compassionate eyes while the condemned soldiers were ranged in a
+single, white faced line. They remained silent now, seeming to have
+found courage now that hope was dead.
+
+Upon brief command from a subaltern, the guards wheeled about and
+retreated perhaps twenty yards down the passage. There they halted,
+glittering eyes peering through the slots in their helmets to fix
+themselves upon the rigid prisoners who stood numbly resigned to
+death.
+
+With surprising speed each member of that weird firing squad detached
+a brazen grenade from his belt, then threw back his arm in exactly the
+same attitude as a bomb-throwing doughboy. Then there came a short,
+sharp command and some fifteen or twenty grenades bobbed through the
+air to crash on the stones at the feet of the victims.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His head swimming with repulsion at the slaughter, Nelson beheld a
+curious sight. It seemed that from the broken grenades appeared a
+yellowish green vapor which sprung _of its own accord_ upon the silent
+upright rank! In an instant it settled like falling snow upon the
+doomed soldiers. For a breathless fraction of a second they stood,
+eyes wide with horror, then collapsed, kicking and struggling as men
+do under the influence of gas.
+
+"Horrible!" gasped Nelson. "What was in the bombs?"
+
+"A vapor," explained Hero Giles shortly. "A fungus vapor which,
+falling upon exposed flesh, instantly invades the blood and multiplies
+by millions. See--" He pointed to the nearest dead man and Nelson,
+with starting eyes, watched a yellowish growth commencing to sprout
+from the dead man's nostrils. Swiftly the poisonous mould threw out
+tiny branches, spreading with astounding rapidity over the skin until,
+in less than a minute after the grenades had exploded, the whole
+tumbled heap of dead were covered with a horrible yellow green fungus
+growth.
+
+"Thou seest?" Hero Giles demanded. "Powerful, is it not? It is against
+the fungus vapor we wear this body armor made from the skin of a small
+lizard which inhabits our mountains."
+
+Shocked and appalled, Nelson watched the retreat of the solemn, silent
+execution party.
+
+Other soldiers fell to unconcernedly stripping their fallen comrades
+of equipment; then, to Nelson's horrified surprise, two hideous
+allosauri reappeared, shepherded by some six or eight keepers. Once
+the horrible creatures were released, they pounced upon the dead and,
+snarling horribly, commenced to rend and devour the corpses.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Too shaken to comment or to make the protest he knew to be futile,
+Nelson followed the stalwart English-speaking officer into a bronze
+door set in the cavern wall and up a short flight of stairs into what
+appeared to be a guard room, where food and wine were immediately set
+before the famished aviator.
+
+"Yea," Hero Giles was saying as he set down a beautiful goblet and
+wiped the last traces of wine from his beard, "we will soon o'ertake
+thy friend. He was but little hurt, and thou wilt assuredly join him
+in judgment before our great Emperor, Altorius XXII, at Heliopolis,
+our capital."
+
+"Heliopolis?" mumbled Nelson, his mouth full of delicious stew that
+seemed to be made of veal. "Heliopolis? How far away is it?"
+
+"A hundred leagues more or less," the other smiled. "Almost a third of
+the distance up this great valley."
+
+"One hundred leagues! Three hundred miles! Then we won't be there for
+several days."
+
+The Hero's deep, rather ominous laughter rang out in the little rock
+hewn chamber. "Days?" he jeered. "Days? Art thou mad? In two hours
+from the time we board the tube-road thou shalt learn thy fate from
+his Serene Highness."
+
+"What!" Nelson's sunken and blood-shot gray eyes widened, while his
+jaw dropped incredulously. "One hundred leagues in two hours? As I
+remember there are about three miles to a league, so a hundred leagues
+in two hours means one hundred and fifty miles an hour! Why, that's
+utterly impossible! The Twentieth Century Limited doesn't go half so
+fast."
+
+Several enormous emeralds set into the other's bronze cuirasse
+glittered softly and the Hero's cold blue eyes hardened as his hand
+sought the grenade belt.
+
+"Impossible? Dost doubt my words, sirrah?" With an effort he
+controlled himself. "Nay, thou shalt see for thyself ere long. The
+tube-road runs from Heracles to Heliopolis. Thou canst trace its
+course on this map here on the wall."
+
+"The dog-born devils of Jarmuth have no such means of travel,"
+continued the Atlantean, with a touch of smug pride that reminded
+Nelson of a small town Middle Westerner speaking of the "rightest,
+tightest little town west of the Mississippi."
+
+Nelson found it extremely weird to be sitting there in a heavy arm
+chair, drinking good red wine with a fierce armor-clad warrior who
+wore sandals, sword and a war cloak such as might have graced the
+limbs of Alexander of Macedon. But with the food and rich warm wine,
+he felt blood, strength and self-confidence pouring back into his
+weary body. "Jarmuth?" he inquired. "What is Jarmuth?"
+
+At his question the domineering, predatory face across the table
+darkened and the scar on his cheek flamed red as a scowl of hatred
+gripped Hero Giles' visage.
+
+"Jarmuth!" snarled the Hero, and his great hand closed like a vise.
+"Jarmuth! A nation of treacherous, gold-adoring cannibals, whose
+countless hordes, spawned in the hot lowlands, ever threaten our
+frontiers. I tell thee, Friend Nelson, the dog-sired Jereboam will not
+rest until mighty Heliopolis lies in a heap of smoking ashes."
+
+"Evidently," thought Nelson, taken aback at the other's vehemence,
+"this lad's English only in speech. I guess he's all Atlantean outside
+of that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Warming to a fiercer pitch, the other fixed his guest with a
+smoldering gaze. "Jarmuth lies beyond Apidanus, the boiling river, and
+is the home of a savage horde whose horrid rites in Jezreel, the
+capital, stink as an offense to Saturn and the High Gods! Why, mark
+you," the warrior prince continued, interrupting his tirade to gulp a
+goblet of wine, "five years ago, by treachery, they seized the
+beauteous Altara, sister of our gracious Emperor, and upon the annual
+feast of Beelzebub, that vile demon they worship, the dark dogs would
+have sacrificed and devoured her, according to their rites, had not
+our Emperor dispatched a ransom of six fair maidens to take her place.
+
+"Every year since then Jereboam has exacted that same tribute. Every
+year their princes and priests gorge themselves on the tender white
+flesh of our fairest and noblest maidens. But this tribute must end!
+The augurs have told us so. Help will come from the Ice World." Hero
+Giles brought crashing down on the table a brawny fist, on whose
+wrist was fixed a bright, gem-studded bracelet.
+
+Horror-stricken, Nelson nodded.
+
+"It is for this alone," continued the Hero somberly, "that thy life
+and that of thy friend have been spared."
+
+"So? I didn't notice," broke in Nelson, "that you particularly went
+out of your way to preserve my health a while back."
+
+The heavy golden head shook slowly and a grim smile played about those
+thin cruel lips. "Nay, but I could have had thee slain. Come, as we go
+to the tube-road I'll show thee how much thou liest in the hollow of
+this, my hand." He thrust out a broad, powerful palm. "Forget not,
+fair sir. At any moment I or my Imperial Master may choose to close
+that hand."
+
+"Perhaps!" stated Nelson, feeling it imperative to keep up his pose of
+independence. "But it might just happen that your hand would close on
+a porcupine, and so far from hurting the porcupine it would be your
+hand that would be hurt."
+
+"Sirrah!" The Atlantean sprang to his feet and one hand shot to the
+grip of his ponderous, bronze sword; but even more quickly Nelson
+snatched up his rifle, a thin smile playing on his lips.
+
+"Drop it," he snapped. "Control yourself, or I'll plug you like that
+allosaur. Be reasonable, can't you? We both want something, and
+perhaps can help each other gain it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The taut, menacing figure in armor relaxed and, with a gentle clank of
+accoutrement, Hero Giles resumed his seat.
+
+"Prithee pardon me," he apologized ungraciously. "I was ever a
+hot-head and there is much in what thou sayest. We wish to force an
+end to this annual tribute--if not to regain our beloved Altara. And
+thou"--his heavy, golden eyebrows shot up--"and thou, what dost thou
+wish?"
+
+Nelson lowered the menacing barrel. "I want the return of Richard
+Alden, free passage back to that spot where he was captured and plenty
+of food and help should we need it. If I aid you in one, you must
+promise me in the other."
+
+"Aye," returned the other doubtfully. "But I myself can pledge naught
+save thy immediate safety. 'Tis for our Imperial Majesty to say
+whether both thou and thy friend shall live, or whether ye shall feed
+our war dogs. Come now, we must go to Heliopolis."
+
+[Illustration: _Map of Jarmuth and Atlans_]
+
+Picking up his heavy, bronze helmet the Atlantean prince set it on his
+yellow head and waited impatiently for Nelson to drain the last of his
+wine. Then, with a swirl of his green cloak, he vanished through the
+rock wall, closely followed by a singularly distracted and alarmed
+aviator.
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A bright yellow glare steadily increased to mark the end of the tunnel
+down which the two had progressed; then, with the sharp abruptness of
+a hand-clap, there resounded a loud challenge in that unintelligible
+Atlantean language, above which the hiss of steam could be loudly
+heard.
+
+Instantly the Atlantean prince strode forward, a commanding figure.
+Momentarily his helmet and the dangling grenadelike bombs were sharply
+outlined against that unearthly yellow light. He raised his hand and
+dropped it, palm outward, to his chin in what must have been a salute.
+The hissing sound of steam then faded into silence.
+
+Followed at a respectful distance by a pair of silent, bronze-helmeted
+hoplites, Nelson and his guide descended a narrow stair, which
+broadened at the base. It was a very long staircase composed of
+perhaps two or three hundred steps which were occasionally interrupted
+by wide stone terraces. On these level spaces were fixed what appeared
+to be enormous field guns of glittering brass. They were similar, yet
+somehow oddly dissimilar, to the great guns Nelson had seen in
+France.
+
+"Behold, oh Wanderer," Hero Giles declaimed impressively, "the lands
+of Atlans and Jarmuth!"
+
+It was a weird landscape that met Nelson's half-unbelieving gaze, a
+landscape green with that brilliance peculiar to spring meadows, lying
+beneath the same deep blue sky that overarched the surrounding barren
+ice fields which hemmed in this astounding valley.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A slight smile played over Hero Giles' thin lips as he watched the
+amazed aviator.
+
+"The splendor of our country must indeed astound thee," he observed,
+"having come from the dreary fastness of the outer Ice World. But
+come; we are now to pass the great retortii guarding the entrance into
+the valley."
+
+Nelson's eyes turned again to the weapons that so oddly resembled
+field guns. He examined them closely, inspecting them narrowly for the
+differences he knew must exist between them and the artillery that had
+thundered during the War of the Nations.
+
+The chief difference lay in the mounting of these starkly beautiful
+weapons. They seemed to be fixed on a movable pivot set into the coal
+black rock itself. Like modern artillery, these curious pieces of
+ordnance bore a bronze shield to protect their crews, through which
+projected the long and very narrow barrels of the guns. Grouped like
+cannoneers about their piece stood various red-crested Atlantean
+artillerymen. At a glance Nelson recognized the difference in their
+equipment from that of the spearmen behind them. These former bore no
+shields, no swords or bombs, but wore that same kind of leather
+body-armor which graced the powerful limbs of Hero Giles. Their
+helmets, too, were different: only the dolphin crest with a tuft of
+red feathers spouting from it bore any resemblance to those of the
+infantry, and, moreover, the artillerymen's eyes were shielded by
+goggles with thick blue lenses.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As the Hero approached, officers among them saluted, then sank on one
+knee with head humbly bent.
+
+"Rather odd looking guns," commented Nelson. "I'm not much of an
+artilleryman, but I'm wondering how you take up the recoil?"
+
+The Atlantean's laugh, which always reminded his guest of the purr of
+a tiger, rang out. "Why, marry, good sir, there is no recoil! These
+guns do not use that powder which Sir Henry, founder of our line, did
+speak of. Thou wouldst see one fired?"
+
+His curiosity immeasurably piqued, Nelson nodded, whereupon the
+Atlantean wheeled about and barked a brief command. With truly
+Prussian precision, the artillerymen sprang to their posts, some to a
+series of levers which sprouted from the rock platform without any
+apparent connection, and some to wheels and gauges of varying size
+that clustered in bewildering intricacy about the breech of the great
+brass gun.
+
+"Markest thou that tree yonder, on the ledge of the valley?" The
+Atlantean's blunt outstretched finger indicated a towering pine
+sprouting from among a mass of reddish volcanic rock at the rim of
+that new world.
+
+"Yes, I see it, but--" Nelson was astounded. A pine tree in the upper
+Arctic! That alone was sufficient cause for amazement. From a stiff
+red-plumed gun captain issued a brief series of commands which set the
+wonderfully drilled crew to silently adjusting their training and
+elevating mechanism. Click! Clack! Sis-s-s-s!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+All up and down the vast staircase other gun crews stood watching.
+Nelson saw their weird, bluish goggles raised to that platform where,
+for all the world like a coast defense howitzer, the great cannon
+swung majestically about on the ponderous, brazen column which seemed
+to support it. Gradually the muzzle was elevated, then traversed a few
+feet, to finally come to a halt.
+
+"Jakul, a Hero!" shouted the gun captain, his hand raised to Hero
+Giles.
+
+"Thou art ready, Friend Nelson?" he inquired in tolerant amusement.
+"Mark well yon pine tree!
+
+"Storr!"
+
+Nelson saw one of the armored cannoneers bend forward, firmly grasp a
+short lever with both hands. In anticipation of a terrific report, the
+aviator pressed finger tips to his ears. There followed not a
+thundering crash, but a curious, eery, high-pitched scream, rather
+like that of a fire siren. There was no smoke! Nelson's incredulous
+eyes sought the muzzle of the gun and detected issuing from it what
+appeared to be a thin, white rod. This shimmering stream of silver
+shot straight towards the pine tree, gradually widening and giving off
+feathery billows of steam. In a fraction of a moment the target was
+completely veiled from sight in a furious pall of clouds which, to
+Nelson's great astonishment, did not dissipate nor condense with the
+speed of ordinary steam.
+
+"Nava!"
+
+With impressive suddenness the screaming sound faded, leaving a sort
+of stunned silence on the gun platform. The gunners stalked back to
+their original stations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Slowly, reluctantly, the mist enveloping the pine tree cleared away
+and Nelson felt a chill creeping up his spine. The pine was a good
+three hundred yards away, yet now it sagged limp to earth, stripped of
+bark, twigs and needles, only the bright yellow trunk and major
+branches remaining.
+
+"That tree was a good two feet thick," mused the astounded aviator,
+"yet the steam gun bent it like a sapling. My God! What would it do to
+a man?"
+
+"What thinkest thou of our retortii?" The Atlantean's beard glinted
+like metal as he shook with a grim, silent laughter. "These great
+retortii can shoot half a league and will blast any living thing in
+their path. I tell thee, friend Nelson, the discharge of even a small
+retortii will strip the flesh from a man's bones as a peasant strips
+the husk from an ear of corn!"
+
+"Fearful, terrible!" was Nelson's awed comment. "Is there no defence
+against them?"
+
+"Of course." The Hero's green feather-crested helmet gleamed with a
+nod. "Was there ever an instrument of war that had not its defence?
+Yea, we have the blue vapor to shatter steam particles--it is called
+the blue maxima. Thou wilt presently see some of our troops armed with
+it."
+
+"But where does this steam come from? How is it generated?" These two
+were the first of a host of questions which trembled on Nelson's lips.
+
+"The steam," replied the Atlantean, "comes from the earth. We compress
+it many times, then feed it into our retortii. Without the heat of
+Mother Earth and our flame suns we would all perish. Steam is our
+motive power, our defence and our enemy!"
+
+He flung his hand towards the vast valley stretched before them. It
+was hemmed in on either side by colossal breath-taking mountain
+ranges, whose caps shone and glittered with an eternal snow.
+
+"Some foothills! They must rise all of 25,000 feet from the valley
+floor," decided the aviator, "and I should imagine this valley is a
+good mile below sea level. Yes! That must be it: this nightmare
+country lies in a huge geographical fault--something like the Dead
+Sea."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mile after mile he could see fertile green land stretching away toward
+some low undulating hills on the horizon. Atlans was very thickly
+settled--that he recognized at once--for the terrain was divided and
+sub-divided into a vast checker-board, such as he had seen in France
+and Germany, while terraces, green with produce, had been laboriously
+gouged out of the frowning mountain sides.
+
+Then his eye encountered the source of that curious amber light which
+pervaded the whole valley. A titanic flaming gas vent spouted like a
+cyclopean torch from the peak of a nearby mountain. Its steady,
+subdued roar struck Nelson's ear as he turned away his eyes, for the
+glare was too intense to be long endured. Further down the valley were
+two more such incandescent vents, shooting their flaming tongues
+boldly into the sky, warming the air and casting that rich, amber
+radiance over all.
+
+"That is Mount Ossa nearest us," the Atlantean's voice came as though
+from a long distance. Victor Nelson was too staggered, too unspeakably
+amazed to register the fact of the Hero's proximity. "Below are Pelion
+and Jilboa, which, with Jabor, the greatest of all the flames,
+illuminate and warm the valley."
+
+Nelson's eye, trained to be all observant, ranged far and wide, noting
+the presence of many lacy, frothing geysers which spouted at varying
+intervals. There were, also, many steaming ponds and waterfalls which
+sprang in smoky confusion from the rock palisades to either side.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nearer at hand he could distinguish a number of huge stone structures,
+evidently forts and public buildings. Strategically placed all about
+were more of those terrible brass retortii, gleaming dully under the
+incandescent glare of the flame sun.
+
+"Come," cried Hero Giles with an impatient gesture of his hand, "we
+must e'en hasten to the tube-road terminal. Word has long since been
+sent to Heliopolis of thy arrival."
+
+Downwards into the valley, which grew ever warmer and more fertile,
+the Atlantean led on, explaining a thousand and one details to the
+astounded aviator. Presently they approached the nearest of the great
+stone structures and Nelson received yet another shock. In a courtyard
+was drilling what would correspond to a troop of cavalry in the outer
+world. In orderly ranks the troopers wheeled, marched and
+counter-marched, their brazen armor twinkling and clashing softly as
+they carried out their evolutions with an amazing precision. But what
+astonished Nelson was the fact that each of these strange troopers
+bestrode a lithe, long-limbed variety of dinosaur, a good half smaller
+than the allosauri he had encountered in the tunnel. These agile
+creatures ran about on their hind legs with astonishing speed, using a
+long reptilian tail as a balance.
+
+On the back of each trooper was fastened a compact circular copper
+tank, from which sprouted a flexible metal hose that ended in what
+looked like a ponderous type of pistol.
+
+In distinction to the red of the artillerymen and the blue of the
+Hoplites, these curious cavalrymen wore brilliant crests of yellow
+feathers, and from their lance tips fluttered tiny pennons of that
+same color.
+
+"They must travel at least as fast as a race horse," decided the
+aviator after studying the swift evolutions of the scaly chargers. To
+his ears came the curious dry scrape and rattle of their horny claws
+on the stone pavement of the drill yard.
+
+He would have lingered to see more, for those grotesque, lizard-like
+chargers interested him immensely, but Hero Giles beckoned
+imperiously. So, dropping the Winchester to the hollow of his arm,
+Nelson followed him into the brilliantly gas-lit depths of the great
+structure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Everywhere were red bearded, white skinned soldiers, staring at him
+with the frank curiosity of children. Powerful, magnificently built
+fellows they were, all in uniforms of different designs.
+
+The walls about him, Nelson noticed, were covered with really
+beautiful friezes depicting various warlike scenes in that pure beauty
+of proportion found only in ancient Grecian temples.
+
+On and on through resounding tunnels, past busy markets and barracks,
+hurried the two travelers. Then the Atlantean halted before a
+gracefully arched doorway where stood two hoplites, who immediately
+lowered spears to bar the passage. At a word from Hero Giles, however,
+they saluted and fell back in position--immovable, grim guardians.
+
+Inside was a short staircase, beautifully wrought of bronze. Up this
+flashed the Atlantean's mail-clad body; then he came to a halt under
+the direct rays of a blinding light.
+
+Nelson, on arriving above, discovered that the chamber was lined with
+jointless brass about ten feet high and circular in shape. "What's
+this?" he demanded curiously.
+
+"The terminal of the tube-road. In a moment thou shalt see the great
+cylinder arrive."
+
+The words were hardly by the Hero's lips when there appeared,
+noiselessly and amid a great rush of air, a huge metal cylinder that
+ran upon a sort of truck. It rumbled up to the edge of the platform
+and from its end a small door was opened.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hero Giles exchanged a few sentences with an elderly man who appeared
+to act as control master, then he indicated the glowing doorway of the
+cylinder.
+
+Firmly clutching his Winchester, Nelson bowed his head and stepped
+inside, there to discover a luxury he had never anticipated. The
+interior of the cylinder was brilliantly lit and on both sides were
+ranged wide divans, strewn with many silken cushions. In a rack nearby
+were several graceful glass amphora, filled with red and tawny wine.
+
+"The cylinder must be about thirty feet long," the marvelling American
+told himself, "and about ten feet in diameter. Guess it works on the
+same principle as the compressed air tubes the department stores use
+to send change with."
+
+Gingerly he tested the nearest divan and marvelled at the curious
+softness of what appeared to be a gigantic tiger skin. Meanwhile Hero
+Giles entered, his stern features even more serious, but with him was
+a younger man who resembled him not a little.
+
+"Fair brother," said the Atlantean to his companion, "this is he of
+whom I spoke. Friend Nelson, this is Hero John, my next youngest
+brother--he, too, speaks the language of the great Sir Henry Hudson."
+
+The metallic clang of the door being shut brought a sharp qualm to
+Nelson's heart. "What are they doing?" he demanded quickly.
+
+"The menials bolt the door beyond," explained Hero Giles with amused
+gravity. "In a moment our cylinder will be placed in the dispatching
+chamber, where steam pressure will be exerted. We shall then be hurled
+through this vacuum tube-road to Heliopolis, greatest city of Atlans.
+In an hour we will be there."
+
+Outside sounded the sudden insistent clangor of a gong, and
+immediately the hiss of steam grew louder. The car shuddered as the
+hissing rose to an eery scream, then all at once the cylinder leaped
+forward, nearly hurling Nelson from his seat. He struggled as best he
+might to gain his equilibrium, for the eyes of the others were on him.
+
+Then, more smoothly, the great cylinder gathered speed and hurtled on
+through the darkness of the tube-road towards Heliopolis, where Victor
+Nelson would read the book of Fate.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+On the arrival platform at Heliopolis reigned a fierce excitement.
+Nelson noted countless armed and unarmed warriors hurrying to and fro,
+desperately intent on reaching their various posts, and snarling
+ill-temperedly as they elbowed their fellows aside. As soon as they
+appeared, Hero Giles and his brother became the center of an excited
+press of gorgeously armored officers.
+
+"Hum!" murmured the aviator under his breath. "Something's happened.
+Must be a revolution, an earthquake or a Democratic convention in
+town; these boys seem all steamed up."
+
+Intently he studied the ring of fierce, red bearded faces surrounding
+his late hosts and gathered that indeed some event of overwhelming
+importance had taken place. Presently a splendid falcon-eyed old man
+in a yellow cloak strode up, struggling to control himself. His
+resemblance to the two Heroes struck Nelson immediately.
+
+"Harken ye," he cried, in that Elizabethan English which appeared to
+be the hieratic language of the New Atlantis' rulers. "Have ye heard?
+The dog-conceived sons of Semites have broken the truce! But three
+measures gone by, a brigade of their mounted podokesons swooped down
+on this very suburb of Tricca, yea, to the very gates of Heliopolis!
+The foul man-eating dogs slaughtered royal serfs and burnt two
+quarters of the suburb to the ground! Moreover, they seized that
+prisoner"--Nelson's heart gave a great leap at the word--"whom thou
+sentest from the mountain passes."
+
+"What!" In two swift strides Nelson was before the gray beard, his
+blood-shot eyes blazing with a strange light. "What did you say about
+that prisoner?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The old man, who had obviously not noticed Nelson's presence, was
+thunderstruck to hear him speak in English until Hero Giles briefly
+explained his presence.
+
+"Yea!" continued the elder, flinging lamentations furiously over his
+shoulder, "these swine of the Lost Tribes captured him and slew his
+escort. They have retreated towards the Apidanus, slaying, burning and
+pillaging as they go."
+
+A sickening, deadly fear gripped the weary aviator. This was too much!
+Bad as it was to have Richard Alden captured by these weird
+descendants of a long vanished race, it was far worse to have him
+fall into the hands of their deadly enemies, the Jarmuthians, decadent
+survivors of Israel's Five Lost Tribes. The possibility of a rescue
+now seemed hopelessly and crushingly vague and distant. What could he
+do now?
+
+In dread despair he glanced about, amazed at the prodigious numbers of
+scowling men who hurried by, obviously intent upon the commencement of
+a campaign for revenge.
+
+Then Hero Giles turned his scarred, warlike face, now set in granite
+lines. "Come, Friend Nelson, my uncle Anthony bids me take thee direct
+to the presence of His Serene Splendor, where he lies encamped at
+Cierum, by the shores of Lake Copias. There he marshals the army of
+Atlans for a march through the hot country on Jezreel. I tell thee,
+thou hast come in stirring times. From Heraclea, Thebes, Ys and Mayda
+will come the Phalanxes. Once and forever we will deal the dogs of
+Jarmuth a final blow."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Victor Nelson never forgot the hours that followed. Issuing at a fast
+trot from the tube-road terminal, the two Heroes led the way to a vast
+structure, in which were stabled both the terrific allosauri and the
+podokesauri, those swift dinosaurs which seemed to serve the
+Atlanteans as horses. The dreadful hiss and snarl of these monsters
+resounded in his ears long before the stables came in sight, and that
+curious musky odor he had noted in the tunnel was sickeningly strong.
+
+Everywhere he read signs of hurried preparations for war. Savage,
+surly allosauri were led from their stables, one by one, long necks
+writhing snakelike backwards and forwards. Then their keepers would,
+after a moment's tussle, secure huge leather muzzles over their gaping
+jaws, and the huge reptiles would be led waddling along on their hind
+legs out into a vast courtyard, there to hiss and strike at their
+nearest fellows.
+
+"Thinkest thou couldst ride a podoko?" inquired Hero John, an anxious
+look on his handsome, friendly features. "They are difficult to
+manage--but swift in flight as the birds themselves!"
+
+"I don't know," replied the aviator, "but I'm damn well going to try.
+If your Emperor can help me rescue Alden, the sooner we get started,
+the better."
+
+For all his brave resolutions, his heart sank, as the green kilted
+keeper led forth three podokesauri. Nelson stared curiously at them
+as, hopping along, they drew near, to bare needle-sharp teeth at him
+while, brazen stirrups on either side jangled softly against their
+rough, scaly hides.
+
+In evident high spirits the beasts snuffed the air and pawed with
+their tiny front legs excitedly, making their sharp talons glisten
+like polished steel. A bridle dangled from the mouth of each and a
+ring set in the thick upper lip served as a further means of control.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a sharp "_Oya_!" from an old and toothless keeper, the first podoko
+sank flat to the stone floor like a kneeling camel.
+
+"A sturdy beast," commented Hero Giles, tightening his belt and
+securing the clasps to the emerald-green war cloak. "Here, Friend
+Nelson, thou hadst best don a helmet; the podokos on occasion throw
+back their heads and so might wound thee." So saying, he set foot in
+stirrup and swung up into a saddle which was built up high in the
+cantle to correct the sharp downward slope of the reptile's muscular
+back.
+
+At a signal, Hero Giles' ugly mount rose to its height and shuffled
+awkwardly sidewise, as the old keeper, his eyes very wide and curious,
+led forward Nelson's charger.
+
+"Look," said Hero John with a reassuring smile. "The chin strap
+buckles so--be sure it fits snug, else it will pound on thy head to
+the podoko's stride. If thou wouldst turn to the left, pull the rein
+so, to the right so, and if thou wouldst stop, pull strongly on the
+nose ring; 'tis not so difficult." He laid a friendly hand on Nelson's
+flannel clad shoulder. "How wilt thou manage thy curious weapon?" he
+inquired doubtfully. "Perhaps thou hadst best leave it behind."
+
+There was a grim smile on Nelson's weary and wind burned features.
+"Not on your life, old son! This Winchester and I stick closer
+together than the Siamese twins."
+
+Nelson thrust his foot into a heavy stirrup, eased his weight into the
+high peaked saddle and gripped the pommel, for though an excellent
+horseman, he had no clue as to what motion would ensue. It was wise he
+did so, for the podoko reared suddenly, almost flinging his rider from
+the saddle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Immediately Hero John mounted, raised his right hand and dealt his
+podoko a stinging slap on the fore-shoulder. The great reptile hissed
+in protest, but commenced to walk off with an awkward, hopping step.
+Nelson's mount followed suit.
+
+Faster and faster ran the podokos, their long and scale-covered necks
+stretched far out ahead while their tails lifted correspondingly, much
+like that of an airplane about to take off.
+
+"Whew! He must be doing all of forty-five," gasped Nelson, while the
+wind whistled about his ears and snapped madly at the yellow crest of
+his brazen helmet.
+
+The ride which ensued remained forever fixed in the aviator's memory.
+Like so many shots from a gun the three podokos darted off out of the
+stables, past a gate guarded by a battery of retortii, whose red
+plumed cannoneers sprang to attention as the three strangely assorted
+riders sped out into the amber, perpetual light of Atlans.
+
+Nelson, on finding his balance, looked about him to receive
+impressions of immensely tall structures, of pyramids which, like the
+ziggurats of Sumaria, and Babylon, were surmounted with beautifully
+proportioned temples.
+
+"Must be at least a million people in this burg of Heliopolis,"
+thought Nelson, easing his Winchester.
+
+Hour after hour they sped along, frequently overtaking detachments of
+troops. Twice they halted to change mounts, though the podokos seemed
+quite tireless.
+
+At the end of five hours' furious riding, Nelson beheld a dense white
+cloud low on the horizon.
+
+"What's that?" he demanded. "Fog?"
+
+"No," Hero John informed him. "Yonder flows the Apidanus, the boiling
+river. Not far away to the left lies the frontier fortress of Cierum,
+where is encamped the Emperor, who will sit in judgment upon thee."
+
+Nelson's heart sank. He had been so occupied with his fears for Alden
+that he had not dwelt upon his own precarious position.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Scarcely half an hour elapsed, if Nelson's wrist watch were running
+correctly, before he reached the tremendous, swarming camp of Altorius
+XXII, Emperor of Atlans. Hero Giles proved to be a powerful talisman,
+for everywhere officers and men alike saluted respectfully and sank on
+one knee as he passed.
+
+"Wait here," he snapped, as the podokos sank obediently to the dust.
+"Brother John, do thou guard Friend Nelson while I seek permission of
+His Serene Splendor to bring the Wanderer into the Presence."
+
+Almost immediately the elder Atlantean returned, a frown on his
+scarred, rather brutal visage. "Come," he muttered, "but I fear for
+thee, Friend Nelson; His Splendor is in a savage mood--this raid hath
+stirred his ire beyond all bounds."
+
+"Nothing like cheering up a patient before he goes into the operating
+room," thought Nelson, and quietly threw off the safety on his
+Winchester. "Six shots," he reflected. "Well, if I go, I reckon I'll
+take some damn good company along."
+
+The aviator was led down a long passage, at every ten feet of which
+was posted an enormous scowling guard, whose spears, retortii and
+armor were painted a brilliant jade-green. Then a musical, deep-toned
+gong boomed twice, and Hero Giles halted before an exquisitely wrought
+door, which, without any apparent propulsion, silently slid back into
+the massive stone walls, revealing a huge, brilliantly lit circular
+chamber that was hung with emerald-green hangings. In the center,
+surrounded by a royal guard of nobles in splendidly jeweled armor, was
+reared a dais, upon which stood a throne that blazed with the most
+varied collection of diamonds that Nelson could ever have imagined.
+
+"Down on your face," rasped Hero Giles as, in common with his brother,
+he knelt and then fell prostrate on the cool black marble floor.
+
+"Damned if I will," murmured Nelson, and remained erect.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bolt upright, he looked across the interval and found himself staring
+into the furious eyes of one of the handsomest men he had ever beheld.
+Gripping his Winchester in a kind of "port arms" position, he stood to
+attention--by some curious kink of the brain reverting to his military
+days. And so the two men, different as day and night, faced each
+other. Altorius XXII clad in robes of scarlet, and a glittering
+cuirasse that glowed like the evening sun. His yellow head was truly
+splendid, reminiscent of that of a young Roman Emperor. The hair, like
+that of the Hudsonian Heroes, was blond, curly and close cropped. Yes,
+thought the awed but self-contained American, there was something
+genuinely imperial about the Emperor's aquiline visage, for a high
+intelligent forehead and piercing blue eyes dominated a strong mouth,
+which was marred by a decidedly cruel twist at the corners. On him,
+also, was set the stamp of Sir Henry Hudson's dauntless race.
+
+"Put him is a business suit and a soft gray hat," mused Nelson, "and
+you would find a dozen like him in any of London's best clubs."
+
+"Down on thy face, sirrah!" Outraged, the Emperor's voice rang like
+the peal of a brazen trumpet through the great pillared audience
+chamber. The nearest guardsmen held themselves ready, hand on sword
+hilt.
+
+"No." Nelson's shaggy black head went back as he found his tongue at
+last. "No, Your Majesty. In America we have our own way of showing
+respect for authority. I'm an American and, with all respect, I'll
+salute you as one."
+
+So saying, his hand flicked up in a sharp military salute to the visor
+of that Atlantean helmet which he still wore.
+
+"All damn foolishness," he silently told himself. "I feel like the
+lead in a ten, twenty, thirty melodrama. But I suppose it's got to be
+done."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Emperor's teeth gleamed in a half snarl as he sprang with Jovian
+wrath to his feet.
+
+"Dog! How darest thou bandy words with us?"
+
+"Have mercy!" hoarsely pleaded Hero John as he lay on the floor. "Have
+mercy, oh Splendor! He is but an ignorant wanderer from the Ice
+World."
+
+It appeared that the young Hero was something of a favorite, for the
+masterful, thunder-browed Emperor checked himself and, still
+glowering, settled back on the diamond throne.
+
+"Ye have my permission to enter and approach."
+
+Whereupon, Hero Giles arose and, with many black looks at his guest,
+strode forward to briefly explain his presence.
+
+Nelson felt Altorius' blazing blue eyes search his face.
+
+"Then he whom the dog-born Jereboam captured was thy friend?"
+
+"Yes," replied Nelson with dignity, "my best friend. Alden and I have
+traveled and wandered all over the world together."
+
+"Over the world? The Ice World?" Altorius seemed interested, for he
+leaned forward, muscle corded arms very brown against the frosty
+brilliance of the stones studding his throne. He flipped back a
+scarlet cloak and bent a searching look on the straight, unafraid
+figure below.
+
+Impatient to reach a decision, Nelson forebore to amplify the
+Emperor's assumption that the outside world was all ice and snow.
+
+"Yes," he said, "from the land of America. I've spoken with Hero
+Giles, Your Majesty's Captain-General."
+
+"So, then, no doubt, he has told you of the law of our country?"
+Altorius' white teeth shown again in the depths of his short, curling
+beard.
+
+"Perhaps." Nelson was vague, wishing no further amplification.
+
+"The law of Atlans," pronounced the Emperor with a frown, "states that
+a stranger must prove his worth to the State, else he must be put to
+death. Thank thou thy gods that thou hast not fallen into the hands of
+the Lost Tribes, for assuredly thou would perish miserably, as must
+thy comrade."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What is the law of Jarmuth?" inquired Nelson, his mind furiously at
+work.
+
+"Their law states that the stranger within their gates must perish on
+the altar of Beelzebub, Jarmuth's blood-hungry demon god." A momentary
+expression of sadness crept into the Emperor's blue eyes and he beat a
+square, powerful hand on the arm of his throne. "Aye, blood-hungry!
+Lack-a-day! But yesterday, six of our fairest maidens crossed the
+boiling river, never to return."
+
+Nelson was about to speak when from outside came the blast of a
+trumpet. The assembled Atlanteans started, paused, and remained
+silent, listening intently.
+
+Hero Giles looked up, a light kindling in his deep-set eyes. "Yon was
+an Israelite trumpet."
+
+As the words left his lips there came a hurried rapping at the portal,
+whereupon the guards sprang forward.
+
+"Bid them enter." Altorius seemed strangely tense and uneasy.
+
+Quietly the door rolled back as before, revealing an Atlantean whose
+eyes rolled with alarm. He hurried forward and flung himself on the
+floor at the Emperor's sandaled feet.
+
+"Harken, oh Serene Splendor! Waiting without is an embassy from his
+Majesty of Jarmuth. They bear words for thine Imperial Highness."
+
+"Now, by Saturn! Here's insolence--at an hour such as this!" With a
+furious swirl of his scarlet cloak Altorius leaped to his feet, hand
+on the ivory handle of his sword, which, to Nelson's amusement was not
+of bronze, but of good, blue-gray steel.
+
+"I'll bet it's old Sir Henry's original pet sticker," he thought.
+
+"Bring on these dogs of Israel," growled Altorius. "They shall die!"
+
+"Gently, gently, oh Splendor," murmured Hero John. "Our full force is
+not yet camped on the Plains of Poseidon."
+
+"Nay! Have the rogues flayed alive!" was the advice of the hot-headed
+elder brother. He, like the Emperor, was scowling and livid with fury.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Presently there appeared four men, stalwart warriors as totally
+different in aspect from the Atlanteans as humans might be. The two
+races were alike only in splendid physical proportions and human
+figures. They, the Jarmuthians, were black haired and dark skinned,
+whereas the Atlanteans, with the exception of Sir Henry's progeny,
+were red headed. Truculently the half naked ambassadors strode over
+the polished floor, which reflected their rude images. Their hairy
+chests, arms and legs afforded a sharp contrast to the neat Atlantean
+nobles, who drew back with expressions of disgust.
+
+"Good God!" gasped Nelson in lively surprise. "A bunch of the boys
+from Seventh Avenue!"
+
+It was true: each Jarmuthian clearly betrayed his Hebraic origin in
+huge, fleshy nose and pendulous lower lip, so characteristic of the
+Semitic race. They were fierce, shaggy fellows, naked from the waist
+up save for a kind of jointed body armor, reminiscent of a Roman
+legionnaire's. Their long abundant blue-black hair was either plaited
+or flowed uncut over splendidly muscled shoulders. Their beards on the
+other hand were short and frizzed into tight curls, in the Assyrian
+manner. On each man's head was set a highly polished, pointed casque
+of copper, surmounted in each instance by the six-pointed star of
+Solomon. Otherwise the brutal looking emissaries wore nothing but
+dirty, food-spotted kilts and rough hide sandals secured by thongs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With all the insolence and self assurance of conquerors in the
+presence of slaves the four jet-eyed ambassadors swaggered up to the
+diamond throne. Then the foremost briefly inclined his head towards
+Altorius in a grudging salute and began to speak in deep, resonant
+tones.
+
+From that point Nelson could understand nothing of the conversation as
+it was carried on in the guttural and unintelligible language of that
+lost realm, but, from time to time Hero John found opportunity to
+translate an occasional phrase.
+
+Darker and darker grew the brows of the gorgeously attired Emperor and
+his eagle-visaged Captain-General as they listened to the pompous
+oratory of the foremost Jarmuthian, and in dark fury more than one
+Atlantean noble half drew his sword when the speaker fell silent at
+last.
+
+"He said," the younger Atlantean whispered, "that Jereboam is no
+longer satisfied with six maidens. Beelzebub demands a further
+offering of six more damsels to be delivered before the third division
+of time on the morrow. By Saturn! The insolence of these besotted
+swine passes all tolerance!"
+
+From the Atlantean Emperor's outraged negative gestures, Nelson
+surmised that Altorius was making an emphatic refusal and even adding
+some vicious threat. The foremost Jarmuthian slapped huge dirty hands
+on armored hips and fell to laughing with an insolence that would have
+provoked a rabbit.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Forgetting dignity and self-control, Altorius, in a single tigerish
+leap sprang from his throne and knocked the mocker senseless with a
+powerful blow to the jaw. Then, spurning the fallen Jarmuthian with a
+sandaled foot, the Atlantean fixed blazing eyes upon the three other
+ambassadors who, nothing daunted, closed up, muttering savagely in
+their frizzed black beards, while their hands sought the spot where
+swords would normally have hung.
+
+"Nice right to the jaw," commented Nelson with a grin. "He's still
+English enough to use his fists." He turned to Hero John, who stood
+with an expression of horror on his comely features. "What caused the
+row?"
+
+"Verily, our plight is grave indeed. That braggart dog threatened to
+march on Heliopolis in the first division of morning, and,"--Hero
+John's lips compressed into a hopeless, taut expression--"our
+reinforcing phalanxes can never arrive in time to defend Cierum at
+that hour. Should the defense fail, as it must--since they outnumber
+us three to one for the nonce--it would cost us many thousands of men
+to stay the blood-hungry hordes of Jereboam once freed on the great
+plain."
+
+Like a star shell bursting on a cloudy night came the inception of an
+idea.
+
+"Here," cried Nelson, "I've an idea! Maybe I can fix a stall until the
+rest of your boys do a General Phil Sheridan and get here."
+
+Hero John's blue eyes widened uncomprehendingly. "What?" he demanded.
+"What dost thou propose?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nelson's hand crept to his head, for the unaccustomed weight and heat
+of the helmet made it itch. "You say these bright boys from over the
+border want to chow six more girls? Am I right?"
+
+"Yea, oh Friend Nelson, they demand the victims to-morrow morn, else
+they advance."
+
+"All right." Nelson was thinking fast now, a dreadful vision of
+Richard Alden stretched for sacrifice on the brass altar of Beelzebub
+ever floating before his aching eyes. "Tell those Semites that they
+can have those six girls _if_ they can take them away from me."
+
+A puzzled frown creased the younger Hero's brow and he tugged
+thoughtfully at his scant yellow beard. "Prithee pardon me, but I do
+not comprehend."
+
+"All right, get this now! Tell the Jarmuthians that they can send six
+of their biggest and best scrappers, one for each girl. If they can
+take any one of those girls away from me, they take them all--taking
+me as well--and we'll all get the works in Jezreel together. But, on
+the other hand, if I kill their six champions, then Alden is returned
+unharmed, the six girls come home and the six other girls come back
+too--and there'll be no more hostages. I don't think they'll agree to
+or even consider surrendering Your Princess, Altara. I'm sorry I can't
+accomplish that, too. But if I can stop this annual tribute, it won't
+be so bad, will it?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rounder and rounder grew the Atlantean's eyes, and he gaped like a
+school boy in a side show.
+
+"What sayest thou? Thou alone to overcome six of their best warriors?
+Nay, but this is folly! Moonshine! What knowest thou of their
+weapons?"
+
+"Nothing," admitted Nelson, "but I do know Brother Winchester here."
+He patted the smooth stock. "He's mighty persuasive, properly
+handled."
+
+"But they are armored! They have the fungus bombs, the light retortii
+and the javelin!"
+
+"Righto!" agreed Nelson a trifle carelessly, "but you don't know what
+this old boy can do when he's put to it. Well?"
+
+"By Saturn!" An uncertain ring crept into the Atlantean Prince's
+voice. "A moment, while I address His Splendor."
+
+"I'm a fool, a damn fool!" thought Nelson. "Still, it's Alden's only
+chance--unless the Jarmuthians've got some trick I'm not on to, I
+ought to stand a fighting chance." Meanwhile Emperor and
+Captain-General drew to one side, listening to Hero John's impassioned
+oratory. That the idea met with disapproval, Nelson quietly recognized
+from the incredulous, even contemptuous, glances Altorius shot at him.
+Leaving the four sneering Jarmuthians under guard of the nobles, the
+Emperor came striding impatiently over the inlaid floor.
+
+"What madness is this?" he demanded harshly. "Dost thou realize what
+would hang upon thy skill? If thou shouldst fail, our annual hostage
+for the divine Altara would be twelve instead of six of our maidens.
+Further, the dog-conceived Jereboam would wax unbearably overweening
+and insolent. Nay, there is too much at hazard! Though outnumbered we
+will give battle in the morning."
+
+"Yes?" demanded Nelson, in turn impatient. "A fine chance you'd stand!
+Why, less than half of your army is here at Cerium and Hero John tells
+me that the enemy have massed their entire forces on the salient of
+Poseidon. Isn't that so?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Altorius' handsome brow darkened. "Aye," he admitted, "but our
+reinforcing corps will come up before the third hour of the third
+division."
+
+Here Hero Giles broke in and, speaking with the quick, impassioned
+tones of one whose reactions are violent, pled for confidence in the
+American. "Nay, fair cousin," he replied, casting a sidewise look at
+the Jarmuthians standing in muttered colloquy with their leader, who
+had now gotten to his feet and was angrily dabbing the blood from his
+chin with the hem of his yellow kiltlike garment. "I saw with mine own
+eyes what miracles Friend Nelson doth perform with his curious
+noise-making retortii. If Jereboam falls upon us ere our regiments are
+marshaled, then, verily, are we doomed. We have no choice but to play
+for time. Harken to the counsel of Hero John! Methinks this stranger
+from the Ice World is no braggart. He will fight well. If he loses he
+dies horribly--that he knows. The thought will strengthen his arms,
+and if he wins--!"
+
+Then broke in Nelson firmly. "If I win I must have the word of Your
+Majesty that Alden and I are to be afforded all help and free passage
+to that place where your soldiers captured my friend. It that
+understood?"
+
+Altorius' blue eyes shifted and there was a slight hesitation in his
+manner. Then, coming to a decision, he whirled and extended his hand.
+
+"Good, 'tis agreed," he said. "On my head be it. Have patience while
+Hero Giles confers with these outlandish dogs."
+
+It was with intense interest that the anxious aviator watched the
+ensuing conference. He could see the four Jarmuthians listening, dark
+eyes restlessly flitting back and forth, and their mouths twisted into
+contemptuous half snarls. Then, as Nelson's offer was made clear, a
+look of cunning seemed to creep into the eyes of the leader. He asked
+for clarification of several points, then, being informed of the
+details, his thick lips parted in an evil, crafty grin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Taken aback at the suspiciously ready acquiescence of the enemy, Hero
+Giles turned about. "They agree," he translated, "that, should Friend
+Nelson win, they will return to their own land, they will forfeit the
+annual tribute forever and return the other stranger unharmed. They
+speak fair, but I fear--" He bit his lips in perplexity. "These dogs,
+who talk with the forked tongues of serpents, plan some snare, some
+cunning trickery."
+
+"Repeat the terms." Altorius seemed gripped with apprehension too.
+"Let all be clearly understood: at the third division of morning will
+the wanderer fight six warriors. No more and no less."
+
+This was agreed and reaffirmed. Then, with an insolent, triumphant
+laugh, the Jarmuthian delegation whirled about and stalked from the
+room, their dark greaved legs flashing in military unison over the
+polished floor.
+
+"'Tis done," quoth Hero Giles gloomily. "The encounter will take place
+on the plain of Gilboa at the third hour of the third division. And
+may Saturn help us if thy might fails. Friend Nelson! For then surely
+will the hordes of Jarmuth despoil us and there will come a desolation
+and a darkness upon the Empire of Atlans."
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+It seemed incredibly soon that Victor Nelson found himself striding
+out from the serrated ranks of the Atlantean army which, drawn up in a
+rough diamond formation, looked discouragingly small in comparison to
+that vast sea of helmets twinkling ominously across the plain of
+Poseidon amid a haze of bright yellow dust which climbed lazily into
+the breathless heavens. The Jarmuthian army, numbering perhaps sixty
+or seventy thousand effective troops, lay encamped in a great salient
+formed by a convolution of the Apidanus and formed the only Jarmuthian
+tract of the great valley lying south of the boiling river.
+
+Like low-lying snow drifts, the sheen of the enemy tents struck
+Nelson's eye as he strode over the bright green turf to battle for
+Richard Alden's life.
+
+"There was something back of those nasty grins of the ambassadors," he
+reflected. "I wonder what deviltry they're cooking up?"
+
+He glanced at a stalwart Atlantean herald who, nervous in the extreme,
+clutched his brazen, dolphin-shaped horn and followed in the
+American's wake together with a sad little company. Weeping, moaning
+and dressed in plain black robes marched six really lovely girls--they
+who would perish on Beelzebub's altar if Nelson failed. Bitter were
+the looks of the guards as they secured the hands of the victims and
+many the hopeful look cast at the impassive American when they turned
+back, leaving the helpless girls to their fate.
+
+The ground where the one-sided duel was to take place was marked off
+by means of little yellow flags on a level plain perhaps a quarter of
+a mile long and wide. Arriving on the nearest border Nelson briefly
+motioned the herald to halt.
+
+"Might as well start shooting at the best range possible, and beat
+their steam throwers," he decided. "Wish to the devil I'd a few more
+cartridges. Only thirteen shots between me and Beelzeebub's altar in
+Jezreel, so I'd better not miss. All right, son, toot your horn."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With his thumb be gestured the command, whereupon the Atlantean nodded
+eagerly and, filling his chest, set horn to lips to blow a long,
+strident note that rang harshly, boldly out over the great plain.
+
+While the note of the challenge rang out, Nelson's eyes turned back to
+regard the Atlantean array and detected, far in the rear, a huge
+pillar of dust which must mark the progress of the Atlantean
+reinforcements. Would they arrive at Cierum in time? Then his eyes
+sought that spot where Altorius and his staff sat anxiously on their
+podokos, watching intently the impending struggle. Very clearly the
+flash of their armor came to him.
+
+"I guess, like the girls back there, they're kind of nervous and
+jumpy," thought Nelson. "Well, I don't blame them. I've had quieter
+moments myself."
+
+Having blown three blasts, the Atlantean herald saluted; then, with
+disconcerting haste, made his way back to the ranks of his fellows
+some two hundred yards away.
+
+From the Jarmuthian army came an answering blast. Nelson cast a last
+look on the Atlantean army, breathlessly awaiting the impending duel.
+There was the allosauri corps on the far left; he could see the
+chimeric monsters' long, repulsive necks writhing endlessly back and
+forth through the air as they squealed and tugged strongly at their
+restraining chains. On the right were stationed perhaps ten thousand
+podokesons, their slender, yellow-shafted lances swaying like a
+sapling forest in the distance. In the center were eleven thousand
+protection infantry, green-crested and armed with compact tanks of
+blue-maxima vapor, fungus bombs and swords. Behind them, and
+corresponding to heavy infantry, were ranged some twenty thousand
+blue-plumed hoplites, eagerly fingering the brazen hoses of their
+death dealing portable retortii.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nelson had no time to further study the array, for he whirled about as
+from the Atlantean army arose a deep, horrified shout. He stood
+paralyzed, his jaw slack. For there, waddling slowly forward, came the
+most fantastic huge creature imaginable. Unspeakably repellent and
+horrible, it stood on short legs thick as mature trees, to tower at
+least thirty-five feet above the ground at the fore-shoulders! An
+immense reptilian neck some twenty-five feet long weaved continuously
+back and forth, while a surprisingly small, bullet-shaped head emitted
+rumbling grunts.
+
+"Great God!" gasped the horrified aviator, and felt the ground sway
+under him. "It must be ninety feet long!"
+
+Paralyzed by a dreadful fascination he watched the ungainly, hill-like
+reptile shuffle ponderously forward and realized that, high on its
+back, was fixed a small fort, rather like those howdahs or boxes which
+are fastened to the backs of elephants. Chilled with the nearness of
+death, Nelson counted six mail-clad warriors in the howdah. Then the
+true import of the Jarmuthians evil jest struck him with full force.
+
+"Six men, they said. And six men there are--but the treacherous devils
+mounted them on that walking hill-side! Guess Altorius can kiss his
+six girls good-by right now. Poor Alden! Well, I did my best--a rotten
+trick."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At that moment he felt as an ant must feel on beholding the approach
+of a human. It was terrifying, the inexorable advance of that
+colossal, fantastic monster. From behind he could hear the infuriated
+shouts of the Atlantean army. They knew even he could not hope to
+withstand the murderous onslaught of the beast now entering the
+duelling space.
+
+On came the diplodocus, its vast warty tail trailing over the ground
+and raising a heavy column of dust, while its mud smeared sides bore
+out Hero Giles' statement that here was one of those semi-aquatic
+titans from the steaming swamps of Jarmuth.
+
+"Hell! Poor Alden's as good as finished now! What a fool I was to
+think I could save him!"
+
+Obedient to an overwhelming fear, Nelson whirled to flee, then
+stopped, as, from the depths of his being, a stronger power forbade
+him to desert his friend to certain death.
+
+"Range two hundred and fifty yards," he estimated, and, whipping up
+the Winchester, sighted full at the ponderous creature's slimy
+snakelike head. When the recoil jarred his shoulder, Nelson dropped
+the barrel an inch or so to watch. Nothing happened. The great beast
+was advancing as before, its incredibly long neck weaving steadily
+back and forth as though to sniff the air.
+
+"Hell!"
+
+Struck by a sudden thought, he snatched a cartridge from his pocket
+and, with that strength which comes to men in their hour of mortal
+peril, wrenched out the metal-jacketed bullet, to reinsert it
+backwards into the brass cartridge case.
+
+Meanwhile the vast brute had drawn nearer, crushing flat a young oak
+in its path as easily as though it had been a wheat stalk.
+
+"Maybe this dum-dum will do some good," panted Nelson. "If it doesn't,
+nothing will stop it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Again he sighted until, finding those small, orange red eyes in line
+with his sight, he fired. This time the gray-brown monster uttered a
+titantic bellow of rage, halted, and began shaking its clumsy blunt
+head.
+
+"Hit it, by God!" exulted Nelson, and seized the momentary respite to
+slip two fresh cartridges into the Winchester's magazine.
+
+But, to his inexpressible dismay, the monster presently resumed its
+ponderous progress while the Jarmuthians in the howdah uttered
+taunting yells that reached him faintly, while the sun flares glinted
+on their brandished swords and lances. One of them plucked a fungus
+grenade from his belt and flung it with all his might in Nelson's
+direction. The missile fell to the earth far short of its destination
+and seemed to break rather than explode, at the same time expelling
+that deadly, greenish-yellow vapor which, blown away by a strong wind,
+fortunately came nowhere near the doomed aviator.
+
+"Oh! You will?"
+
+Nelson sighted swiftly at the grenade-thrower and fired, whereupon the
+Jarmuthian, some hundred and fifty yards distant, spun crazily about,
+flung both arms towards the amber-yellow sky and toppled from the
+howdah, for all the world like a diver in quest of pearls.
+
+From both breathless armies rose a terrific shout. Accustomed as they
+were to the visible destruction of the retortii, this noisy yet
+invisible death was appalling.
+
+But Nelson's agonized attention was not on the assembled armies, for
+nearer came the mountainous diplodocus, its lumbering strides making
+the howdah sway like a ship in a gale and preventing use of the
+portable retortii.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nelson planted both feet, took fresh grip on his waning courage and
+shot again, this time aiming at a gigantic, black bearded warrior who
+seemed to be training one of those portable retortii upon him.
+
+Again the Winchester cracked and this time the black bearded man sank
+from sight back into the howdah, while his companions, uttering
+vengeful shouts, tossed more fungus bombs at the lone heroic figure
+barring their progress towards the six bound and shrieking maidens.
+
+Towering thrice as high as the largest African elephant, the
+diplodocus was now but seventy-five yards away. He had hit it, that
+Nelson could tell, for a large shower of blood sprayed from the
+monster's neck. Then, uttering a despairing curse, he sent a shot
+smacking squarely into the left shoulder, at the base of that mastlike
+neck with fervent hope of finding the heart. But the heavy bullet
+bothered the cyclopean reptile no more than a sting of a mosquito.
+
+On, on it came. In another minute it must stamp out Victor Nelson's
+life beneath feet as large as hogsheads.
+
+"Damn!"
+
+Nelson snapped the ejector lever, throwing out the spent cartridge.
+
+"No use," he whispered, "can't faze that hill of meat! But I might as
+well kill all of those bloody cannibals I can."
+
+With amazing speed and accuracy he picked off two of the remaining
+Jarmuthians, whose shining, bronze armor could nowise withstand the
+wicked impact of modern nickel-jacketed bullets. One of the stricken
+men for a moment dangled with the last of his strength from one of the
+chains securing the howdah to the enormous creature's back, then
+tumbled heavily some forty feet to the earth.
+
+Only two shots more in the magazine--! Nelson suddenly found himself
+very cool. "Two shots and then--"
+
+He was conscious of that great, snakelike head darting viciously in
+his direction. A huge, slobbering mouth, studded with teeth a foot
+long, yawned redly before him like a nightmare incarnate, blotting out
+consciousness of all else. Then Victor Nelson, fighting to control his
+strumming nerves, deliberately sighted into a great, orange colored
+eye, saw the narrow black iris over the Winchester's front sight and
+knew the huge warty head was not ten feet away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He pressed the trigger and never heard the report, but felt the blast
+of a furnace-hot breath in his face--a breath that stank like the foul
+reek of burning rubber.
+
+With a detached sense of surprise he saw the eye miraculously and
+dreadfully disintegrate; then, as the bitter smell of burned cordite
+stung his nostrils, he sprang violently sidewise to find himself
+staring up at the howdah, now towering at least forty feet above.
+
+The next few moments were indescribable. Horrible roars and bellows,
+loud as those of a thousand angered bulls, shattered the air. The
+diplodocus halted, stunned by pain and the partial loss of eyesight;
+then, its infinitesimal brain becoming gripped with fear, it plunged
+and lumbered sidewise, nearly shaking the warriors from the howdah,
+where they clung for dear life. Nelson was barely able to avoid the
+sweep of the powerful tail as the diplodocus wheeled about on hind
+legs, reeled and started blindly back towards the Jarmuthian ranks.
+Suddenly it stood stock still, shaking with super-elephantine motions.
+Then, for all the world like a balky mule, it sank to the earth and
+cowered there, despite the frantic efforts of the surviving
+Jarmuthians to stir it to obedience.
+
+By the strong amber light of the sun flare Nelson had a vision of the
+last two warriors swinging in apelike agility to the ground. They were
+giants, those two men of Jarmuth, and their conical helmets added
+additional stature. One of them, shouting an unintelligible taunt,
+reached for his belt to snatch out a fungus bomb, but Nelson, dropping
+on one knee, sent a bullet crashing between the Jarmuthian's scowling
+eyes. Even as he fell, the last of the six champions unwisely ignored
+his retortii and frantically sprang forward, razor-edged sword
+upraised.
+
+Nelson frantically worked the ejector lever but only an empty click
+resulted! His heart sank. "Hell! the magazine's empty!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He had just time to swing the Winchester about and grasp its barrel as
+the Jarmuthian, with a loud shout, sprang in, slashing viciously at
+Nelson's unprotected neck. Using the clubbed rifle like a baseball
+bat, the American struck out with the strength of despair. There came
+a resonant clang as blade and barrel encountered each other. Steel is
+ever stronger than bronze, so Nelson had the satisfaction of seeing
+the Jarmuthian's sword blade break squarely in two near the hilt.
+
+Horrified, the black bearded warrior glanced at the empty hilt in his
+hand but, courageous to the end, sprang in like a tiger to grapple
+with that small, agile man in khaki and serge.
+
+"You would--eh?" gasped Nelson.
+
+Putting all his strength behind a blow he whirled up the heavy
+Winchester, struck out and felt the solid walnut stock smash fair and
+square on the conical helmet. Like an eggshell the bronze helm broke
+and the six-pointed star above went spinning off into the dust. As a
+tree sways before it falls beneath a forester's ax, so the dark
+Jarmuthian giant tottered, while the wide dusty plain of Poseidon
+echoed with a rumbling, incredulous shout.
+
+"There," choked Nelson, incredulous to be still alive, "I guess
+that'll be about all for to-day."
+
+But he was wrong. From the ranks of Jarmuth rose a terrible, ominous
+cry and at the same time there broke out the sibilant hiss of a
+thousand retortii. From the Atlantean army came an answering yell and
+Nelson turned to race back to the shelter of Altorius' body-guard,
+pausing but to arouse the terrified hostages. Swiftly he cast loose
+their bonds and pointed to the nearest detachment of Atlanteans.
+Sobbing with joy the six girls fled for dear life just as the first of
+the allosauri went racing over the plains. Screaming, all-powerful and
+uncanny war dogs, they bounded grotesquely high in the air, plunging
+straight towards the Jarmuthian ranks which greeted them with a
+searing, billowing blast of their retortii. Though dozens of the
+terrible creatures fell kicking and writhing beneath the scalding
+discharge of the retortii, the main body, perhaps forty or fifty in
+number, sprang like rending fiends into the dense packed masses of
+Jarmuthian infantry.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of the ensuing battle, Nelson had but the most confused recollections.
+The dominating impression was that the fray was awesome, horrible
+beyond power of description. He recalled feeding the five remaining
+cartridges into the magazine, then clapping on an Atlantean noble's
+helmet. With Hero John at his side he joined in an furious headlong
+charge of the podoko corps.
+
+Like a vast glittering wedge the gallant Atlantean lancers advanced
+under shelter of the blue maxima vapor which, discharged by the
+protectons or light infantry, dispelled the scalding steam clouds
+launched from the Jarmuthian portable retortii.
+
+"Halor vàn!" Hero John shouted the Atlantean war cry. "Halor vàn!
+Come Friend Nelson, this day shall the treacherous swine of Jarmuth
+drown in their own blood! Halor vàn!"
+
+Nelson replied nothing. He was too busy drawing a bead on a gorgeously
+arrayed enemy officer who appeared to be directing the defence.
+
+Faster and faster rushed the podokos, forty, fifty miles an hour, a
+carnate thunderbolt hurled straight at the enemy center. Under a hot
+fire of grenades dozens of the lancers fell and once, when a fungus
+bomb broke near by, Nelson saw half a dozen Atlanteans tumble from
+their saddles, the hideous yellow growths already sprouting from
+nostrils, mouth and ears. The turmoil became deafening,
+indescribable--like the roar of a crowded subway.
+
+The American had a brief glimpse of a mountainous diplodocus assailed
+by half a dozen hissing, shrieking allosauri who, employing jaws and
+claws, ripped great, shuddering chucks of flesh from the agonized and
+unwieldy monster on whose back the frantic Jarmuthians fought with
+terrible ferocity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped and worried
+their prey. One of them clung like a bulldog to the doomed diplodocus'
+head, though the twenty-foot neck writhed and whirled frantically in
+effort to shake it loose. Another allosaurus, whining with eagerness,
+actually clambered up the back of an assailed giant only to fall back
+under the blast of a retortii mounted in the howdah. Bathed in live
+steam, with bones showing through its melting, quivering flesh, the
+allosaurus collapsed backwards, but another instantly took its place
+and, gaining its goal with a terrific leap, made a shambles of the
+howdah, tearing the men in it apart as a lion does an antelope.
+
+Nelson found himself very busy. The charging podokesos were now in the
+midst of the Jarmuthian heavy infantry, slashing down at a maze of
+yelling, black-bearded, Semitic faces. Once Nelson was nearly
+speared, shooting his assailant just as the lance glimmered over his
+heart. Again he saw the Atlantean hoplites beaten back amid a
+pestilential fog of fungus gas which stretched them in kicking,
+loathsome heaps on the dusty plain. The uproar became terrific,
+indescribable, as the whistling screams of the allosauri and the
+saurean bellows of the diplodoci rose above the shouts of the soldiery
+to fill the dust-laden air with a dreadful clamor. The battle now
+swayed critically; a feather's weight on either side and one army
+would roll back in red, irretrievable ruin. It was the psychological
+instant. Nelson sensed it unerringly.
+
+"Look!" shouted Hero John, dashing a rivulet of blood from his eyes,
+"there fights the dog-begotten Jereboam himself! Halor vàn! Smite, ye
+soldiers of Atlans! Smite!"
+
+Following the line of the outstretched hand. Nelson caught a glimpse
+of an enormous, eagle nosed warrior who, clad in gleaming, diamond
+studded harness, fought like a paladin of old. Powerful as a dark Ares
+the sable browed Jereboam raged among the dismayed Atlantean hoplites,
+beating them to earth with terrible ferocity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a long shot, one he might readily have been forgiven in missing
+but with the speed of thought Victor Nelson sprang from his podoko,
+dropped on one knee behind a pile of corpses and, uttering a fervent
+prayer, fired full at Jereboam's black head.
+
+The nearest combatants drew back momentarily at the unfamiliar thunder
+of the report and fell silent while the groans and shrieks of the
+wounded rose loud. As a man looking through many thickness of glass,
+so Nelson saw Jereboam reel on his splendidly caparisoned podoko,
+clasp both hands to his forehead and sink to earth.
+
+Hero Giles, somewhere far in the Atlantean van, saw what transpired
+and capitalized it with the inspiration of a genius.
+
+"Jereboam is dead!" he shouted in ringing tones, and flashed his red
+stained sword. "Woe to Jarmuth this day! Smite, ye sons of Atlans. Woe
+to Jarmuth--Jereboam is fallen!"
+
+And smite hard the reinforced Atlanteans did. Filled with a new
+courage they advanced so determinedly that the disconcerted and
+dismayed Jarmuthians broke and fled in a disastrous, panic-stricken
+rout back over the plain of Poseidon towards the boiling river.
+
+The ground was already carpeted with dead and with abandoned
+equipment, when fresh packs of allosauri were loosed on the fleeing
+Jarmuthians to wreak havoc indescribable and, ere long, only the
+triumphant, panting Atlanteans remained on the field.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+There was music and high revelry in the fortress of Cierum that night,
+and Victor Nelson, embarrassed and flushed with the extravagant
+adoration of all Atlans, sat by the Emperor Altorius' side waiting,
+watching for the appearance of a humbled Jarmuthian delegation.
+
+"Never since the world began has there been such a hero in Atlans!"
+cried Altorius, his face more Roman than ever. "Prithee tarry amongst
+us, Hero Nelson. Thou shalt be as my brother. A marble palace shalt
+thou have and twenty wives, each fair as those damsels which thou
+hast, by thy might, rescued from the profane altar of the fiend,
+Beelzebub!"
+
+"Thanks," laughed Nelson, and drained a goblet of tawny wine. "I'd be
+delighted to stay, but the point is--He broke off short, for there
+came a sudden tramp of feet at the door of the great hall and there,
+just visible above the green crests of the royal guards, he recognized
+that pale, drawn face which had haunted him ever since he had returned
+to find the abandoned aeroplane.
+
+"Dick!" he shouted. "Dick Alden!"
+
+"Nelson!"
+
+With that same irresistible form which had won a certain November
+classic for Harvard, Richard Alden bucked and plunged through a double
+rank of startled guards and came running across the marble floor, his
+eyes lit with an unspeakable gladness.
+
+"Nelson! Nelson!" he panted. "What in hell are you doing up there?"
+
+"Oh!" replied the aviator with a joyous grin, "just visiting with my
+friend, the Emperor."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Alden halted, on his handsome features a curious mixture of surprise
+and delight. "The Emperor?" he stammered. "You sitting beside an
+Emperor?"
+
+"Would it not seem so?" inquired Altorius with a low laugh.
+
+"It would," chuckled Alden. "Victor Nelson, as I remember, always was
+a good politician."
+
+"And," thought Nelson, "I'll have to be a damn sight better one to get
+us out of Atlans without injuring Altorius' feelings. I don't suppose
+he'll ever be able to realize that all the desirable things in the
+world don't lie in this valley."
+
+Throngs of brilliantly armored and plumed officers and courtiers, some
+of them nursing wounds and bandaged heads, came up to hail the mighty
+wanderer who had subdued the might of Jarmuth.
+
+Flushed and pleased, as is any normal man under well-earned praise,
+Nelson shook one wiry fist after another, while Alden chatted with the
+Emperor. Nobles, officers and courtiers all pressed close to fawn upon
+the new hero--but, far back in the council chamber, a group of dark
+robed priests were crowded together. Haranguing the priests was a
+fierce, white bearded old man who seemed to be arguing violently.
+
+"Hum!" thought the American. "That's at least one outfit that doesn't
+like the way I part my hair. Wonder what devilment the priests are
+cooking up?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He was not long in finding out, for the black robed arch-priest
+suddenly left his group of underlings to boldly make his way forward,
+while princes, courtiers and warriors drew respectfully aside and bent
+their heads.
+
+"Hail! All conquering Emperor!" The stern old man halted squarely
+before Altorius' gem encrusted throne, while Alden checked some remark
+to look curiously down upon the hawk-featured arch-priest.
+
+Altorius flushed and the lines about his mouth tightened, from which
+Nelson guessed that there was more than a little bad blood between the
+spiritual and temporal heads of the empire.
+
+"What wouldst thou, oh Heracles?"
+
+"I would know why the all powerful Wanderer, of whom thou makest so
+much, did not rescue Princess Altara?"
+
+The Emperor stiffened. "Her rescue, being impossible of
+accomplishment, was not nominated in the agreement," he said coldly.
+"The Wanderer has in full carried out his share--and so shall we.
+Honored and beloved of Atlans, these great warriors shall abide among
+us in peace."
+
+Here Nelson thought it wise to dispel any illusions Altorius might
+entertain about their staying in Atlans. "No, oh Splendor: remember,
+our agreement was that, should I conquer the Jarmuthian champions,
+Alden and I were to be allowed to go free."
+
+"Nay, oh Splendor," fiercely broke in the arch-priest, "permit them
+not to go. I tell thee the Princess Altara _must_ be restored to
+Atlans! Else,"--a distinct note of threat crept into the old man's
+voice--"--else evil days shall fall upon this empire, and the line of
+Hudson will wither and fade."
+
+Up sprang Altorius in a towering rage. "Sirrah! Dost dare make threats
+to thy liege lord?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fire flashed from the young Emperor's bright blue eyes, and under
+their fierce glare the old man quailed and stepped back with eyes
+lowered.
+
+"Altorius keeps his word," the Emperor thundered. "The strangers shall
+go, though all the black-robed kites in the realm say me nay. The word
+of a Hudsonian prince is as sure as the fire of Pelion. Get thee gone,
+rash priest!"
+
+A long moment, the two strangely contrasting figures glared at each
+other, the young, splendid Emperor and the malevolent, withered old
+man.
+
+"The Gods demand their daughter," cried Heracles in parting, "and woe
+to him who says them nay!"
+
+With this parting shot, the arch-priest turned and, scarlet faced,
+stalked from the council room, while Altorius threw back his head and
+roared with laughter.
+
+"Come, oh ye Heroes, ye princes and captains! Come, let us make
+festival before these mighty wanderers go their way!"
+
+Roar upon roar of enthusiasm echoed through the marble throne room,
+and Nelson would have felt wholly at ease had not that little knot of
+priests remained gathered like ill-omened carrion crows about the
+door. Muttering among themselves, they were watching him with a
+curious intentness that aroused deep misgivings in the American's
+mind, and it was with something like a sigh that he joined the
+procession forming to proceed to the triumphal feast on which the
+wealth and luxury of the whole empire of Atlans had been lavished.
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+[Illustration: Advertisement.]
+
+
+
+
+The Pirate Planet
+
+_By Charles W. Diffin_
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+[Illustration: _He shot feet first into the waiting heads._]
+
+[Sidenote: From Earth and sub-Venus converge a titanic offensive of
+justice on the unspeakable man-things of Torg.]
+
+
+The little ship that Captain Blake had thrown with reckless speed
+through the skies over Washington, D. C., made history that day in the
+records of the earth. None, now, could doubt that here, at last, was
+the answer that the world had hoped for until hope had died.
+Unbelievable in its field of action, incredible in its wild speed, but
+real, nevertheless!--the countries of the earth were frantic in their
+acclaim. Only the men who formed the International Board of Defense
+failed to join in the enthusiasm. They sat by day and night in earnest
+conference on ways and means.
+
+This little ship--so wonderful, and so inadequate! It was only a
+promise of what might come. There must be new designs made; men must
+learn to dream in new terms and set down their dreams in cold lines
+and figures on drafting boards. A cruiser of space must be designed,
+to mount heavy guns, carry great loads, absorb the stresses that must
+come to such a structure in flight and in battle. And above all, it
+must take the thrust of this driving force--new and tremendous--of
+which men knew so little as yet. And then many like it must be built.
+
+The fuel must be prepared, and this, alone, meant new and different
+machinery, which itself must be designed before the manufacturing
+process could begin.
+
+There was work to be done--a world of work!--and so few months in
+which to do it. The attack from the distant gun had long since ceased
+and the instruments of the astronomers showed the enemy planet
+shrinking far off in space. But it would return; there was only a year
+for preparation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Blake was assigned to the direction of design. An entire
+office building in Washington was vacated for his use, and in a few
+hours he rallied a staff of assistants who demanded the entire use of
+a telephone system that spread countrywide. And the call went out that
+would bring the best brains of the land to the task before them.
+
+The windows of the building shone brightly throughout the nights when
+the call was answered, and engineers and draftsmen worked at fever
+heat on thrusts and stresses and involved mathematical calculations.
+And, while owners of great manufacturing plants waited with
+unaccustomed patience for a moment's talk with Blake, the white sheets
+on the drafting boards showed growing pictures of braces and struts
+and curved plates, of castings for gun mounts, and ammunition hoists.
+And the manufacturers were told in no uncertain terms exactly what
+part of this experimental ship they would produce, and when it must be
+delivered.
+
+"If only we dared go into production," said Blake; "but it is out of
+the question. This first ship must demonstrate its efficiency; we must
+get the 'bugs' out of our design; correct our errors and be ready with
+a production schedule that will work with precision."
+
+Only one phase of this proposed production troubled him; the
+manufacture must be handled all over the world. He talked with men
+from England and France, from Germany and Italy and a host of other
+lands, and he raged inwardly while he tried to drive home to them the
+necessity for handling the work in just one way--his way--if results
+were to be achieved.
+
+The men of business he could convince, but his chief disquiet came
+from those whose thoughts were of what they termed "statesmanship,"
+and who seemed more apprehensive of the power that this new weapon
+would give the United States of America than they were of the threat
+from distant worlds.
+
+From his friends in high quarters came hints of the same friction, but
+he knew that the one demand Winslow had laid down was being observed:
+the secret of the mysterious fuel would remain with us. Winslow had
+shown little confidence in the countries of the old world, and he had
+sworn Blake to an agreement that his strange liquids--that new form of
+matter and substance--should remain with this country.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And swiftly the paper ship grew. The parts were in manufacture, and
+arriving at the assembly plant in Ohio. Blake's time was spent there
+now, and he caught only snatches of sleep on a cot in his office,
+while he worked with the forces of men who succeeded each other to
+keep the assembly room going night and day.
+
+There was an enormous hangar that was designed for the assembling of a
+giant dirigible; it housed another ship now. Hardly a ship, yet it
+began to take form where great girders held the keel that was laid,
+and duralumin plates and strong castings were bolted home.
+
+A thousand new problems, and innumerable vexing errors--the "bugs"
+that inhere with a new, mechanical job--yet the day came when the ship
+was a thing of sleek beauty, and her thousand feet of length enclosed
+a maze of latticed struts where ammunition rooms and sleeping
+quarters, a chart room and control stations were cleverly interspaced.
+And above, where the great shape towered high in the big hangar, were
+the lean snouts of cannon, and recesses that held rapid-fire guns and
+whole batteries of machine guns for close range.
+
+Rows of great storage batteries were installed, to furnish the first
+current for the starting of the ship, till her dynamos that were
+driven by the exhaust blast itself could go into action and carry on.
+And then--
+
+An armored truck that ground slowly up under heavy guard to deliver
+two small flasks of liquid whose tremendous weight must be held in
+containers of thick steel, and be hoisted with cranes to their resting
+place within the ship. And Captain Blake, with his heart in his throat
+through fear of some failure, some slip in their plans--Captain Blake,
+of the gaunt, worn frame, and face haggard from sleepless
+nights--stood quietly at a control board while the great doors of the
+hangar swung open.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the closing of a switch the current from the batteries flowed
+through the two liquids, to go on in conductors of heavy copper to a
+generator that was heavy and squat and devoid of moving parts. Within
+it were electrodes that were castings of copper, and between them the
+miracle of regenerated matter was taking place.
+
+What came to them as energy from the cables was transformed to a
+tangible thing--a vast bulk of gas, of hydrogen and oxygen that had
+once been water, and the pressure of the gas made a roaring inferno of
+the exhausts. A spark plug ignited it, and the heat of combustion
+added pressure to pressure, while the quivering, invisible live steam
+poured forth to change to vaporous clouds that filled the hangar.
+
+The man at the control board stood trembling with knowledge of the
+power he had unleashed. He moved a lever to crack open a valve, and
+the clouds poured now from beneath the ship, that raised slowly and
+smoothly in the air. It hung quietly poised, while the hands that
+directed it sent a roaring blast from the great stern exhaust, and the
+creation of many minds became a thing of life that moved slowly,
+gliding out into the sunlight of the world.
+
+The cheers of crowding men, insane with hysterical emotion at sight of
+their work's fulfillment, were lost in the thunder of the ship. The
+blunt bow lifted where the sun made dazzling brilliance of her
+sweeping curves, and with a blast that thundered from her stern the
+first unit of the space forces of the Earth swept upward in an arc of
+speed that ended in invisibility. No enveloping air could hold her
+now; she was launched in the ocean of space that would be her home.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Blake, the following day, sat in Washington before a desk
+piled high with telegrams of congratulation. His tired face was
+smiling as he replaced a telephone receiver that had spoken words of
+confidence and commendation from the President of the United States.
+But he pushed the mass of yellow papers aside to resume his
+examination of a well-thumbed folder marked: "Production Schedule."
+The real work was yet to be done.
+
+It was only two short months later that he sat before the same desk,
+with a face that showed no mark of smiles in its haggard lines.
+
+His ship was a success, and was flying continuously, while men of the
+air service were trained in its manipulation and gunners received
+practice in three-dimensioned range finding and cruiser practice in
+the air. Above, in the airless space, they learned to operate the guns
+that were controlled from within the air-tight rooms. They were
+learning, and the ship performed the miracles that were now taken as
+matters of fact.
+
+But production!
+
+Captain Blake rose wearily to attend a conference at the War
+Department. He had asked that it be called, and the entire service was
+represented when he reached there. He went without preamble or
+explanation to the point.
+
+"Mr. Secretary," he said, and faced the Secretary of War, "I have to
+report, sir, that we have failed. It is utterly impossible, under
+present conditions, to produce a fleet of completed ships.
+
+"You know the reason; I have conferred with you often. It was a
+mistake to depend on foreign aid; they have failed us. I do not
+criticize them: their ways are their own, and their own problems loom
+large to them. The English production of parts has come through, or is
+proceeding satisfactorily, but the rest is in hopeless confusion. The
+Red menace from Russia is the prime reason, of course. With the Reds
+mobilizing their forces, we cannot blame her neighbors for preparing
+to defend themselves. But our program!--and the sure invasion that
+will come in six short months!--to be fighting among ourselves--it is
+damnable!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He paused to stare in wordless misery at the silent gathering before
+him. Then--
+
+"I have failed," he blurted out. "I have fallen down on the job. It
+was my responsibility to get the cooperation that insured success.
+Let me step aside. Is there anyone now who can take up the work and
+bring order and results from this chaos of futility?"
+
+He waited long for a reply. It was the Secretary of War who answered
+in a quiet voice.
+
+"We must not be too harsh," he said, "in our criticism of our foreign
+friends, but neither should we be unfair to Captain Blake. You do
+yourself an injustice; there is no one who could have done more than
+you. The reason is here." He struck at a paper that he held in his
+hand. "Europe is at war. Russia has struck without warning; her troops
+are moving and her air force is engaged this minute in an attack upon
+Paris. It is a traitor country at home that has defeated us in our war
+with another world."
+
+"I think," he added slowly, "there is nothing more that could have
+been done: you have made a brave effort. Let us thank you, Captain
+Blake, while we can. We will fight, when the time comes, as best we
+can; that goes without saying."
+
+A blue and gold figure arose slowly to speak a word for the navy. "It
+is evident by Captain Blake's own admission, that the proposed venture
+must fail. It has been evident to some of us from the start." It was a
+fighter of the old school who was speaking; his voice was that of one
+whose vision has dimmed, who sees but the dreams of impractical
+visionaries in the newer inventions, and whose reliance for safety is
+placed only in the weapons he knows.
+
+"The naval forces of the United States will be ready," he told them,
+"and I would ask you to remember that we can still place dependence
+upon the ships that float in the water, and the forces who have manned
+them since the history of this country began."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Blake had sprung to his feet. Again he addressed the Secretary
+for War.
+
+"Mr. Secretary," he said, and there was a fighting glint in his eyes,
+"I make no reply to this gentleman. His arm of the service will speak
+for itself as it has always done. But your own words have given me new
+hope and new energy. I ask you, Mr. Secretary, for another chance. The
+industrial forces of the United States are behind us to the last man
+and the last machine. I have talked with them. I know!
+
+"We have only six months left for a prodigious effort. Shall we make
+it? For the safety of our country and the whole world let us attempt
+the impossible: go ahead on our own; turn the energy and the mind of
+this whole country to the problem.
+
+"The great fleet of the world can never be. Shall we build and launch
+the Great Fleet of the United States, and take upon our own shoulders
+the burden and responsibility of defense?
+
+"It cannot be done by reasonable standards, but the time is past for
+reason. Possible or otherwise, we must do it. We will--if you will
+back me in the effort!"
+
+There was a rising discord of excited voices in the room. Men were
+leaping to their feet to shake vehement fists in the faces of those
+who wagged their heads in protest. The Secretary of War arose to still
+the storm. He turned to walk toward the waiting figure of Captain
+Blake.
+
+"You can't do it," he said, and gripped the Captain by the hand; "you
+can't do it--but you may. This country has seen others who have done
+the impossible when the impossible had to be done. It's your job; the
+President will confirm my orders. Go to it, Blake!"
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+The wires that bound the two men were removed, and McGuire and Sykes
+worked in agony to bring life back to the hands and feet that were
+swollen and blue. Then--red guards who forced them to stumble on their
+numbed legs, where darting pains made them set their lips tight--a
+car that went swiftly through the darkness of a tube to stop finally
+in another building--a room with metal walls, one window with a
+balcony beyond, high above the ground--a door that clanged behind
+them; and the two men, looking one at the other with dismayed and
+swollen eyes, knew in their hearts that here, beyond a doubt, was
+their last earthly habitation.
+
+They said nothing--there was nothing of hope or comfort to be
+said--and they dropped soddenly upon the hard floor, where finally the
+heavy breathing and nervous starts of Professor Sykes showed that to
+him at least had come the blessed oblivion of exhausted sleep. But
+there was no sleep for Lieutenant McGuire.
+
+There was a face that shone too clearly in the dark, and his thoughts
+revolved endlessly in words of reproach for his folly in allowing
+Althora's love to lead her to share his risk. From the night outside
+their window came a ceaseless clatter and hubbub, but to this he was
+oblivious.
+
+Only with the coming of morning's soft golden light did McGuire know
+the reason for the din and activity that echoed from outside--and the
+reason, too, for their being placed in this room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Their lives should end with the sailing of the fleet, and there,
+outside their window, were the ships themselves. Ships everywhere, as
+far as he could see across the broad level expanse, and an army of men
+who scurried like ants--red ones, who worked or directed the others,
+and countless blues and yellows who were loading the craft with
+enormous cargoes.
+
+"Squawk, damn you!" said Lieutenant McGuire to the distant shrieking
+throng; "and I hope they're ready for you when you reach the earth."
+But his savage voice carried no conviction. What was there that Earth
+could do to meet this overwhelming assault?
+
+"What is it?" asked Sykes. He roused from his sleep to work gingerly
+at his aching muscles, then came and stood beside McGuire.
+
+"They have put us here as a final taunt," McGuire told him. "There is
+the fleet that is going to make our world into a nice little hell, and
+Torg, the beast! has put us here to see it leave. Then we get ours,
+and they don't know that we know that."
+
+"Your first way was the best," the scientist observed; "we should have
+done it then. We still can."
+
+"What do you mean?" The flyer's voice was dull and lifeless.
+
+Sykes pointed to the little balcony and the hard pavement below.
+
+"Althora," he said, and McGuire winced at the name, "seemed to think
+that we were in for some exquisite torture. Here is the way out. It is
+a hundred-foot drop; they think we are safe; but they have been
+unintentionally kind."
+
+"Yes," his companion agreed, "they don't know that we know of the torture.
+We will wait ... and when I am sure that--Althora--is--gone ... when there
+is nothing I can do to help--"
+
+"Help?" queried the professor gently. "There is nothing now of help,
+nor anyone who can help us. We must face it, my boy; _c'est fini_. Our
+little journey is approaching its end."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was no reply, and McGuire stood throughout the day to stare with
+eyes of smouldering hatred where the scurrying swarms of living things
+made ready to invade and infest the earth.
+
+Food and water was pushed through the doorway, but he ate sparingly of
+the odd-colored fruits; the only thing that could hold his thoughts
+from the hopeless repetition of unanswerable "whys" was the sight of
+the fleet. And every bale and huge drum was tallied mentally as it
+passed before his eyes. The ships were being loaded, and with their
+sailing--But, no! He must not let himself think of that!
+
+Throughout the day ships came and departed, and one leviathan, ablaze
+in scarlet color; sailed in to settle down where great steel arms
+enfolded it, not far from the watching men. Scarlet creatures in
+authority directed operations, and workmen swarmed about the great
+ship. Once McGuire swore softly and viciously under his breath, for he
+had seen a figure that could be only that of Torg, and the crowd
+saluted with upraised arms as the scarlet figure passed into the
+scarlet ship. This, McGuire knew, was the flagship that should carry
+Torg himself. Torg and ----. He paled at the thought of the other
+name.
+
+The only break in the long day came with the arrival of a squad of
+guards, who hustled the two men out into a passageway and drove them
+to another room, where certain measurements were taken. The muscular
+figures of the two were different from these red ones, but it was a
+moment before McGuire realized the sinister significance of the
+proceedings. Their breadth of shoulders, the thickness of their
+chests--what had these figures to do with their captivity? And then
+the flyer saw the measures compared with the dimensions of a steel
+cage. Its latticed shape could be endlessly compressed, and within, he
+saw, were lancet points that lined the ghastly thing throughout. Long
+enough to torture, but not to kill; a thousand delicate blades to
+pierce the flesh; and the instrument, it seemed, was of a size that
+could enclose the writhing, helpless body of a man.
+
+Other unnameable contrivances about the room took on new significance
+with the knowledge that here was the chamber of horrors whose workings
+had been seen by Althora in the mind of their captor--horrors of which
+she could not speak.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was sick and giddy as the guards led him roughly back to their
+prison room. And Professor Sykes, too, required no explanation of what
+they had seen.
+
+The guards were many, and resistance was useless, but each man looked
+silently at the other's desperate eyes when the metal cords were
+twisted again about their wrists, and their hands were tied securely
+to metal rings anchored in the wall beside the window.
+
+"And there," said the flyer, "goes our last chance of escape. They
+were not as dumb as we thought: they knew how good a leap to the
+pavement would look after we had been in there."
+
+"Less than human!" Sykes was quoting the comment of Althora's brother.
+"I think Djorn was quite conservative in his statement."
+
+McGuire examined carefully the cords that tied his hands to the wall
+beside him. The knots were secure, and the metal ring was smooth and
+round. "I didn't know," he said, as he worked and twisted, "but there
+might be a cutting edge, but we haven't a chance. No getting rid of
+these without a wire cutter or an acetylene torch--and we seem to be
+just out of both."
+
+Professor Sykes tried to adopt the other's nonchalant tone. "Careless
+of us," he began--then stopped breathless to press his body against
+the wall.
+
+"It's there!" he said. "Oh, my God, if I could only get it, it might
+work--it might!"
+
+"The battery," he explained to the man beside him, whose assumed
+indifference vanished at this suggestion of hope; "--the little
+battery that I used on the gun, to fire the explosive. It has an
+astounding amperage, and a voltage around three hundred. It's in my
+pocket--and I can't reach it!"
+
+"You can't keep a good man licked!" McGuire exulted. "You mean that
+the current might melt the wire?"
+
+"Soften it, perhaps, depending upon the resistance." Sykes refused to
+share the other's excitement. "But we can't get at it."
+
+"We've got to," was the answer. "Move over this way." The man in khaki
+twisted his arms awkwardly to permit him to bend his body to one side,
+and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as the strain forced the
+thin bonds into his wrists. But he brought his agonized face against
+the other's body, and gripped the fabric of Sykes' coat between his
+teeth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The twisting of his head raised the cloth an inch at a time, and
+despite Sykes' efforts to hold the garment with his elbow, it slipped
+back time and again. McGuire straightened at intervals to draw a
+choking breath and ease the strain upon his tortured wrists; then back
+again in his desperate contortions to worry at the cloth and pull and
+hold--and try again to raise the heavy pocket where a battery made
+sagging folds.
+
+He was faint and gasping when finally the cloth was brought where the
+scientist's straining fingers could grasp it to writhe and twist in
+clumsy efforts that would force the battery's terminals within reach.
+
+"I'll try it on mine," said Sykes. "It may be hot--and you've had your
+share." He was holding the flat black thing to bring the copper tips
+against the metal about his wrists. McGuire saw the man's lips go
+white as a wisp of smoke brought to his nostrils the sickening odor of
+burned flesh.
+
+The metal glowed, and the man was writhing in silent self-torture when
+at last he threw his weight upon the strands and fell backward to the
+floor. He lay for a moment, trembling and quivering--but free. And the
+knowledge of that freedom and of the greater torture they would both
+escape, gave him strength to rise and work with crippled hands at his
+companion's bonds, till McGuire, too, was free--free to forget his own
+swollen, bleeding wrists in compassionate regard for the other.
+
+Like an injured animal, Professor Sykes had licked with his tongue at
+his wrists, where hot wire had burned deep and white, and he was
+trying for forgetfulness an hour later, in examination of the door to
+their room.
+
+"What is the idea?" McGuire inquired, when he turned from his
+ceaseless contemplation of the fleet. "Not trying to get out, are
+you?"
+
+"I am trying to stay in," said Sykes, and looked again at the object
+that interested him. "These long bolts," he explained: "top and
+bottom; operated from outside, but exposed in here. They come together
+when unlocked; five inches apart now. If I had something to hold them
+apart--
+
+"You haven't a piece of steel about five inches long, have you?--or
+anything to substitute for it? If you have, I can lock this door so
+the devils won't come in and surprise us before we can make the jump."
+
+"The battery?" suggested McGuire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sykes shook his head. "I tried it. Too long, and besides it would
+crumble. They operate these with a lever; I saw it outside." He went
+on silently with his study of the door and the little gap between
+heavy bolts, which, if closed, would mean security from invasion.
+
+"They're about through," McGuire spoke from his post at the window
+after some time. "The rush seems to be about over. I imagine they'll
+pull out in the morning."
+
+He pointed as Sykes stood beside him. "Those big ones over beyond have
+not been touched all day; only some of the crew, I judge, working
+around them. And way over you see forty or fifty whaling big ones:
+they must have been ready before we came. They have finished on these
+nearer by. It looks like a big day for the brutes."
+
+And Professor Sykes led him on to talk more of the preparations he had
+seen, and his deductions as to the morrow. It was all too evident what
+was really on the lieutenant's mind. It was not the thought of their
+own immediate death, but the terrible dread and horror of Althora's
+fate, that hammered and hammered in his brain. To speak of anything
+else meant a moment's relief.
+
+Sykes pointed to a tall mast that was set in the plaza pavement, some
+hundred feet away. Wires swung from it to several points, one of them
+ending above their window and entering the building. "What is that?"
+he asked, "--some radio device? That ball of metal on the top might be
+an aerial." But McGuire had fallen silent again, and stared stonily at
+the deadly fighting ships he was powerless to combat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the morning that followed, there was no uncertainty. This was the
+day! And from a balconied window up high in the side of a tall stone
+building, two men stood wordless and waiting while they watched the
+preparations below.
+
+The open space was a sea of motion like flowing blood, where thousands
+of figures in dull red marched in rank after rank to be swallowed in
+the mammoth ships that McGuire had noted in the distance. Then other
+colors, and swarms of what they took to be women-folk of this wild
+race--a medley of color that flowed on and on as if it would never
+cease, to fill one after another of the great ships.
+
+"Transports, that's what they are," said McGuire. "I can see now why
+they have no steel beaks like the others. They don't need any rams,
+nor ports for firing that beastly gas. They are gray, too, while the
+fighting ships are striped with red, all except the scarlet one of
+Torg's. Those are colonists we are watching, and soldiers to conquer
+the Earth where the damned swarm settles."
+
+He stopped to stare at a body of red-clad soldiers, drawn up at
+attention. They made a lane, and their arms were raised in the salute
+that seemed only for Torg. They stood rigid and motionless; then, from
+below the watching men, came one in the full splendor of his scarlet
+regalia. The air echoed with the din of his shouted name, but the
+bedlam of noise fell on deaf ears for McGuire. He could hear nothing,
+and in all the vast kaleidoscope of color he could see only one
+object--the white face of a girl who was half led and half carried by
+a guard of the red ones, where their Emperor led the way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a strangled cry that was torn from the flyer's throat--the name
+of this girl who was going to the doom she had failed to avoid. Her
+life, she had said, was hers to keep only if she willed, but her plans
+had failed, and she went faltering and stumbling after a scarlet man
+beast.
+
+"Althora!" called the flyer, and the figure of the girl was struggling
+with her guards in a frenzy that tore their hands free. She turned to
+look toward the sound of the voice, and her face was like that of one
+dead as her eyes found the man she loved.
+
+"Tommy," she called: "oh, Tommy, my dear! Good-by!" The words were
+ended by the clutch of the scarlet Emperor who turned to seize her.
+
+A clatter came from the door behind them, but Lieutenant McGuire gave
+no heed. Only Professor Sykes sprang back from the balcony to seize
+and struggle with the moving bolts.
+
+The man on the balcony was hardly less than a maniac as he glared
+wildly about, but he was not too unreasoning to see the folly of a
+wild leap into the throng below. He could never reach her--never. And
+then his eyes fell upon the wire that led from above him to the great
+pole in the open plaza. There was shouting from behind where the
+executioners were wrestling with the bolts.
+
+"Hold them," the flyer shouted, "just for a minute! For God's sake,
+Sykes, keep them back! There's a chance!"
+
+He sprang to the balustrade of the balcony, but he saw as he leaped
+where Professor Sykes had raised his leg to force the thickness of his
+knee between the bolts whose levers outside were bringing them closer
+together.
+
+"Go to it," was the answer. "I can hold them"--a stifled groan--"for
+a--minute!" Professor Sykes had found his substitute for five inches
+of steel, and the living flesh yielded but slowly to the pressure of
+the bolts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was working frantically at the wire, then held himself in
+check while he carefully unwound it from its fastening. There was a
+splice, and he worked with bleeding fingers to unfasten the tight
+coils. And then the end was free and in his hands. He dropped to the
+balcony to pull in the slack, and he wrapped the end about beneath his
+arms and twisted it tight, then leaped out into space. No thought of
+himself nor of Sykes in this one wild moment, only of Althora in the
+grip of those beastly hands.
+
+He was struggling to turn himself in the air as the colored masses of
+people seemed sweeping toward him, and he shot as a living pendulum,
+feet first, into the waiting heads.
+
+He was on his feet in an instant and tearing at the twisted wire that
+held him. About him was clamor and confusion, but beyond the nearer
+figures he saw the one who waited, and beside her a thing in scarlet
+that shrieked orders to his men.
+
+He flung off one who leaped toward him, and ducked another to dash
+through and reach his man. And he neither saw nor felt the creature's
+ripping talons as he drove a succession of rights and lefts to the
+blood-red face.
+
+The scarlet one went backward under the fusillade of blows; he was
+down, a huddle of color upon the pavement, and a horde of paralyzed
+soldiers had recovered from their stupefaction and were rushing upon
+the flyer. He turned to meet them, but their rush ended as quickly as
+it began: only a step or two they came, then stopped, to add their
+wild voices to the confusion of ear-splitting shrieks that rose from
+all sides.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire crouched rigid, tense and waiting, nor did he sense for an
+instant that the assault was checked and that the faces of all about
+him were turned to the sky. It was the voice of Althora that aroused
+him:
+
+"Tommy! Tommy!" she was calling, and now she was at his side, her
+arms about him. "What is it, Tommy? Look! Look!" And she too was
+gazing aloft. And then, above all other sounds McGuire heard the
+roar--
+
+The clouds were golden above with the brilliance of midday--and
+against them, hard and sharp of outline, was a shining shape. A cloud
+of vapor streamed behind it as it shot down from the clouds, and the
+thunder of its coming was like the roar of many cannon.
+
+A ship of the red ones was in the air--a fighting ship, whose stripes
+showed red--and it drove at the roaring menace with its steel beak and
+a swirling cloud of gas. It seemed that they must crash, when to
+McGuire's eyes came the stabbing flash of heavy guns from the shining
+shape. A crashing explosion came down to them as the great beak parted
+and fell, and the body of the red-striped monster opened in bursting
+smoke and flame, tore slowly into fragments and fell swiftly to the
+earth.
+
+It struck with a shattering crash some distance away, but one pair of
+eyes failed to follow it in its fall. For in the clear air above, with
+the golden light of distant clouds upon it, a roaring monster of
+silvery sheen had rolled and swept upward to the heights. And it
+showed, as it turned, a painted emblem on its bow, a design of
+clear-cut color, unbelievably familiar--a circle of blue, and within
+it a white star and a bull's eye of red--the mark of the flying
+service of the United States!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire never knew how he got Althora and himself back to the building
+whence he had come. Nor did he see the struggling figures on a
+balcony, or the leap and fall of a maimed body, where Professor Sykes,
+when the door had yielded, found surcease and oblivion on the pavement
+below.
+
+He was to learn that later, but now he had eyes only for a sight that
+could be but a dream, an unreal vision of a disordered brain. He held
+the slim form of Althora to him in a crushing grip, while he stared,
+dry-eyed, above, and his own voice seemed to shout from afar off:
+"They're ours!" that voice was screaming in a frenzy of exultation.
+"They're our ships! They've come across!"
+
+The fighting fleet of the red man-things of Venus was taking to the
+air! The ships rose in a swarm of speeding, darting shapes, and the
+great one of Torg was in the lead, climbing in fury toward the
+heights.
+
+Far above them the clouds of gold silhouetted a strange sight, and the
+air was shaking with the thunder from on high, where, straight and
+true, a line of silver ships in the sharp V of battle formation drove
+downward in a deadly, swift descent.
+
+And even afar off, the straining eyes of a half-crazed man could see
+the markings on their bow--a circle and a star--and the colors of his
+own lost fighters of the air.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+The Earth-fleet was a slanting line of swiftness that swept downward
+from the clouds. A swarm of craft was rising from below. The
+red-striped fighters met the attack first with a cloud of gas.
+
+The scarlet monster--the flagship of Torg, the Emperor--was in the
+lead, and they shot with terrific speed across the bows of the
+oncoming fleet to leave a whirlwind of deadly vapor as they passed.
+McGuire held his breath in an agony of fear as the cloud enveloped the
+line of ships, but their bow guns roared staccato crashes in the
+thunder of their exhausts as they entered the cloud. And they were
+firing from the stern as they emerged, while two falling cylinders of
+red and white proved the effectiveness of their fire.
+
+The formation held true as it swept upward and back where the swarming
+enemy was waiting. They were outnumbered three to one, McGuire saw,
+and his heart sang within him as he watched the sharp, speeding V that
+climbed upward to the enemy's level then swung to throw itself like a
+lance of light at the massed ships that awaited the attack.
+
+Another cloud of gas!--and a shattered ship!--and again the line
+emerged to correct its broken formation and drive once more toward the
+circling swarm.
+
+They came to meet them now, the clusters of red-striped fighting
+ships, and they tore in from all sides upon the American line, their
+hooked beaks gleaming in the sun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, at an unseen signal, the formation broke. Each ship fought
+for its life, and the stabbing flashes of their guns made ceaseless
+jets of light against the smoke and gas clouds that were darkening the
+sky.
+
+"A dog-fight!" breathed Lieutenant McGuire; "and what a dog-fight!"
+His words were lost in the terrific thunder from above: the roar of
+the ships and the dull thuds of the guns engulfed them in a maelstrom
+of noise that battered like physical blows on the watchers below. He
+swore unconsciously and called down curses upon the enemy as he saw
+two fighters meet while the shining beak of a ship of the reds crashed
+through the body of an opposing craft.
+
+The red ship dipped at the bow; it backed off with terrific force; and
+from the curved beak a ship with the insignia of the red, white and
+blue slid downward in a swift fall to the death that waited.
+
+They had fought themselves clear, and the Americans, by what must have
+been arrangement or wireless order, went roaring to the heights. There
+were some who followed, but the guns of the speeding ships drove them
+off. Red-and-white shapes fell swiftly from the clouds where the
+fighting had been, and McGuire knew that his fellows had given an
+account of themselves in the fighting at close range.
+
+Again the thundering line was sharp and true, and another unswerving
+attack was launching itself from above. And again the deadly
+formation, with ever-increasing speed, drove into the enemy with
+flashing guns, then parted to close with the ones that drove
+crushingly upon them, while the sharper clatter of rapid-firing guns
+came to shatter the air.
+
+The fighting craft had been rising from their level field in a
+succession that seemed endless. They were all in the air now, and only
+the great transports remained on the paved field.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A red-striped fighter swept downward in retreat, and, from the smoke
+clouds, a silvery shape followed in pursuit. It reached the red and
+white one with its shells, and the great mass crashed with terrific
+impact on the field. Its pursuer must have seen the monsters still on
+the ground, and it swung to rake them with a shower of small-caliber
+shells.
+
+There were machine-guns rattling as it passed above the thronged
+reds--the troops who were huddled in terror in the open court. It tore
+on past them--past a figure in khaki who raced forward with the golden
+form of a girl within his arms, then released her to wave frantically
+as the silver ship shot by.
+
+Unobserved, McGuire and Althora had been, where they stood beside the
+buildings: the eyes of their enemies, like their own, were on the
+monstrous battle above. But now they had called themselves to the
+attention of the reds, and there were some who rushed upon them with
+faces livid with rage.
+
+McGuire reached for a weapon from a victim of the machine-gun fire and
+prepared to defend himself, but the weapon was never used. He saw the
+silvery shape reverse itself in the air; it turned sharply to throw
+itself back toward the solitary figure in uniform of their service and
+the golden-clad girl beside him.
+
+The flyer raised his weapon, but the jostling swarm that rushed upon
+him melted: the ripping fire of machine guns was deafening in his
+ears. Their deadly tattoo continued while the great ship sank slowly
+to touch and rest its huge bulk upon the pavement. A door in the
+ship's curved side opened that the blocky figure of a man might leap
+forth.
+
+He was grimy of face, and his uniform was streaked with the smoke and
+sweat of battle, but the face beneath the grime, and the hands that
+reached to embrace and pound the flyer upon the back, could be only
+those of one he had known as his captain--Captain Blake.
+
+"You son-of-a-gun!" the shouting figure was repeating. "You damned
+Irish son-of-a-gun! A. W. O. L.--but you can't get away with it! Come
+on--get in here! I'm needed up above!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was struggling to speak from a throat that was suddenly tight
+and voiceless. Then--
+
+"Althora," he gasped; "take Althora!" and he motioned toward the girl.
+And then he remembered the companion he had left in the room above.
+The battle that had flashed so suddenly had blasted from his mind all
+other thoughts.
+
+"My God!" he said. "--Sykes! I--must get Sykes!"
+
+He turned to run back to the building, only to stop in consternation
+where a huddle of clothing lay beneath the balcony of their prison
+room.
+
+It was Sykes--Sykes who had sacrificed himself to make possible the
+escape of his friend--and McGuire dropped to his knees to touch the
+body that he knew was shattered beyond any hope of life. He raised the
+limp burden in his arms and staggered back where more khaki-clad
+figures had gathered. Two came quickly out to meet him, and he let
+them take the body of his friend.
+
+"_C'est fini!_"--he repeated the words that Sykes had said; "the end
+of our little journey!" The arms of Althora were about him as Blake
+hurried them into the waiting ship, and the roar of enormous power
+marked the rising of this space ship to throw itself again into the
+fray.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A small room with a dome of shatter-proof glass; a pilot who sat there
+to look in all directions, a control-board beneath his hands. Beside
+him on his elevated station was room for Captain Blake, and McGuire
+and Althora, too. The ship was climbing swiftly. McGuire saw where
+flashing shapes circled and roared in a swelling cloud of smoke and
+gas.
+
+Blake spoke sharply to an aide: "General orders! All ships climb to
+resume formation!"
+
+An enemy ship was before them: it flashed from nowhere to bear down
+with terrific speed. The floor beneath them shook with the jarring of
+heavy guns, and McGuire saw the advancing shape bursting with puffs of
+smoke, while their own ship shot upward with a sickening twist. A
+silver ship was falling!--and another!
+
+"Two more of ours gone," said Captain Blake through set teeth. "How
+many of them are there, Mac? Tell me what you know: we've got a hell
+of a fight on our hands."
+
+"They're all here," McGuire told him, in jerky, breathless speech.
+"These are transports on the ground. Their weapons are gas and speed,
+and the rams on their beaked ships. There are other weapons--deadlier
+ones!--but they haven't got them: they belong to another race. I'll
+tell you all that later!"
+
+"Keep them at a distance, Blake," he said. "Make them come to
+you--then nail them as they come."
+
+"Right!" was the answer; "that's good dope. We didn't know what they
+had; expected some devilish things that could down us before we got
+within effective range; had to mix it with them to find out what they
+could do, and get in a few solid cracks before they did it.
+
+"How high are we?" He glanced quickly at an instrument. "Ten thousand.
+Order all ships to withdraw," he instructed his aide. "Rendezvous at
+fifty thousand feet for echelon formation."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Another brush with an enemy craft that slipped quickly to one
+side--then the smoke clouds were behind them, and a score, of silvery
+shapes were climbing in vertical flight for the level at fifty
+thousand.
+
+They were fewer now than they had been, and the line that formed
+behind the flagship of Blake was shorter than the one that had made
+the V which shot down so bravely to engage with an unknown foe.
+
+The enemy was below; an arrangement of mirrors showed this from the
+commander's station. They were emerging from the clouds of smoke to
+swarm in circling flight through the sky. And now the bow of their own
+craft was depressed at an order from Blake, and the others were behind
+them as they drove to renew the attack.
+
+"They're ganging up on us again," said Blake. "We'll fool them this
+time; we'll just kid them a little."
+
+The flagship swerved before reaching the enemy, and the others
+followed in what looked like frightened retreat. Again they were in
+the heights, and some few of the enemy were following. Blake led in
+another descent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+No waiting swarm to greet them now! Blake gave a quick order. The
+roaring column shifted position as it fell: the flagship was the apex
+of a great V whose arms flung out and backward on either side--a V
+formation that curved and twisted through space and thundered upon the
+smaller formations that scattered before the blasting guns.
+
+"Our bow guns are the effective weapons," Blake observed; his casual
+tone was a sedative to McGuire's tense nerves. "We can use a broadside
+only of lighter weight; the kick of the big 'sights' has to be taken
+straight back. But we're working, back home, on recoil-absorbing guns:
+we'll make fighting ships of these things yet."
+
+He spoke quietly to the pilot to direct their course toward a group
+that came sweeping upon them, and the massed fire of the squadron was
+squarely into the oncoming beaks that fell beneath them where the
+mirrors showed them crashing to the earth.
+
+They were scattered now; the enemy was in wild disorder; and Blake
+spoke sharply to his aide.
+
+"Break formation," he ordered; "every ship for itself. Engage the
+enemy where they find them; shoot down anything they see; prevent the
+enemy reforming!" He was taking quick advantage of the other's
+scattered forces, and he scattered his own that he knew could take
+care of themselves while they engaged the enemy only by ones or twos
+or threes.
+
+"Clear the air of them!" he ordered. "Not one of them must escape!"
+
+The skies were a maze of darting shapes that crossed and recrossed to
+make a spider's web of light. Ship drove at ship, to swerve off at the
+last, while the air quivered and beat upon them with the explosion of
+shells and guns.
+
+"There's our meat!" Blake directed the pilot, and pointed ahead where
+a monster in scarlet was swelling into view.
+
+It came swiftly upon them, darting down from above, and McGuire
+clutched at the arm of the man beside him to shout: "It's the leader;
+the flagship! It's the Emperor--Torg, himself! Give him hell, Blake,
+but look out--he's fast!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The ship was upon them like a flash of fire; no time for anything but
+dodging, and the pilot threw his craft wildly aside with a swerve that
+sent the men sprawling against a stanchion. Then up and back, where
+the other had turned to come up from below.
+
+"Fast!" McGuire had said, but the word was inadequate to describe the
+speed of the fiery shape.
+
+Another leap in the air, as their pilot swung his controls, and the
+red shape brushed past them in a cloud of gas, while the quick-firers
+ripped futilely into space where the great ship had been.
+
+"Get your bow guns on him!" Blake roared. The ship beneath them
+strained and shuddered with the incredible thunder of the generator
+that threw them bodily in the air. The pilot had opened in full force
+the ports that blasted their bows aside.
+
+No time to gather new speed; they were motionless as the scarlet
+monster came upon them, but they were in position to receive him. The
+eight-inch rifles of the forward turret thundered again and again, to
+be answered by flashes of flame from the scarlet ship.
+
+McGuire crouched over the bent form of the pilot, whose steady fingers
+held the ship's bow straight upon the flashing death that bore down
+upon them. Another salvo!--and another!--hits all of them.... Smoke
+bursting from ripping plates, and flaming fire more vivid than the
+scarlet shape itself!--and the floor beneath McGuire's feet drove
+crushingly upward as their pilot pulled a lever to the full.
+
+The great beak flashed beneath--and the mirrors, where McGuire's eyes
+were fastened, showed the terrific drive continue down and down, where
+a brilliant cylinder that marked the power of Venus tore shriekingly
+on to carry an Emperor to his crashing death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The skies were clear of the red-striped ships: only the survivors of
+the attacking force showed their silvery shapes as they gathered near
+their flagship. There were two that pursued a small group of the
+enemy, but they were being outdistanced in the race.
+
+"We have won," said Blake in a tone of wonder that showed how only now
+had come a realization of what the victory meant. "We have won, and
+the earth--is saved!"
+
+And the voice of McGuire echoed his fervent "Thank God!" while he
+gripped the soft hand that clung tightly to his, as if Althora, this
+radiant creature of Venus, were timid and abashed among the joyful,
+shouting men-folk from another world.
+
+"And now what, Captain?" asked McGuire of his command. "Will you land?
+There is an army of reds down there asking for punishment."
+
+Blake had turned away; his hand made grimy smears across his face
+where he wiped away the tears that marked a brave man's utter
+thankfulness. He covered his emotion with an affectation of
+disapproval as he swung back toward McGuire.
+
+"Captain?" he inquired. "Captain? Where do you get that captain
+stuff?"
+
+He pointed to an emblem on his uniform, a design that was unfamiliar
+to the eyes of McGuire.
+
+"You're talking to an admiral now!--the first admiral of the newest
+branch of your country's fighting service--commanding the first fleet
+of the Space ships of the United States of America!" He threw one arm
+about the other's shoulders. "We'll have to get busy, Mac," he added,
+"and think up a new rank for you.
+
+"And, yes, we are going to land," he continued in his customary tones;
+"there may be survivors of our own crashes. But we'll have to count on
+you, Mac, to show us around this little new world of yours."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was an army waiting, as McGuire had warned, but it was waiting
+to give punishment and not to take it. The vast expanse of the landing
+field was swarming with them, and the open country beyond showed
+columns of marching troops.
+
+They had learned, too, to take shelter; barricades had been hastily
+erected, and the men had shields to protect them from the fire of
+small arms.
+
+Their bodies were enclosed in their gas-tight uniforms whose ugly
+head-pieces served only to conceal the greater ugliness beneath. They
+met the ships as they landed with a showering rain of gas that was
+fired from huge projectors.
+
+"Not so good!" Blake was speaking in the safety of his ship. "We have
+masks, but great heavens, Mac!--there must be a million of those
+brutes. We can spray them with machine-gun fire, but we haven't
+ammunition enough to make a dent in them. And we've got to get out and
+get to our crashed ships."
+
+He waited for McGuire's suggestions, but it was Althora who replied.
+
+"Wait!" she said imperatively. She seemed to be listening to some
+distant word. Then:
+
+"Djorn is coming," she exclaimed, and her eyes were brilliantly
+alight. "He says to you"--she pointed to McGuire--"that you were
+right, that we must fight like hell sometimes to deserve our
+heaven--oh, I told him what you said--and now he is coming with all
+his men!"
+
+"What the devil?" asked Blake in amazement. "How does she know?"
+
+"Telepathy," McGuire explained: "she is talking with her brother, the
+leader of the real inhabitants of Venus."
+
+He told the wondering man briefly of his experience and of the people
+themselves, the real owners of this world.
+
+"But what can they do?" Blake demanded.
+
+And McGuire assured him: "Plenty!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He turned to Althora to ask, "How are they coming? How will they get
+here?"
+
+"They are marching underground; they have been coming for two days.
+They knew of our being captured, but the people have been slow in
+deciding to fight. Djorn dared not tell me of their coming; he feared
+he might be too late.
+
+"They will come out of that building," she said, and indicated the
+towering structure that had been their prison. "It has the old
+connection with the underground world."
+
+"Well, they'd better be good!" said Blake incredulously.
+
+He was still less optimistic when the building before them showed the
+coming of a file of men. They poured forth, in orderly fashion and
+ranged themselves in single file along the walls.
+
+There must be a thousand, McGuire estimated, and he wondered if the
+women, too, were fighting for their own. Then, remembering Althora's
+brave insistence, he knew his surmise was correct.
+
+Each one was masked against the gas; their faces were concealed; and
+each one held before him a tube of shining metal with a larger bulbous
+end that rested in their hands.
+
+"Electronic projectors," the lieutenant whispered. "Keep your eye on
+the enemy, Blake; you are going to learn something about war."
+
+The thin line was advancing now and the gas billowed about them as
+they came. There were some few who dropped, where masks were
+defective, but the line came on, and the slim tubes were before them
+in glittering menace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a distance of a hundred feet from the first of the entrenched enemy
+there was a movement along the line, as if the holders of the tubes
+had each set a mechanism in operation. And before the eyes of the
+Earth-men was a spectacle of horror like nothing in wars they had
+known.
+
+The barricades were instantly a roaring furnace; the figures that
+leaped from behind them only added to the flames. From the steady rank
+of the attackers poured an invisible something before which the hosts
+of the enemy fell in huddles of flame. Those nearest were blasted from
+sight in a holocaust of horror, and where they had been was a
+scattering of embers that smoked and glowed; even the figures of
+distant ones stumbled and fell.
+
+The myriad fighters of the army of the red ones, when the attackers
+shut off their invisible rays, was a screaming mob that raced wildly
+over the open lands beyond.
+
+Althora's hands were covering her eyes, but McGuire and Blake, and the
+crowding men about them, stared in awe and utter astonishment at the
+devastation that was sweeping this world. An army annihilated before
+their eyes! Scores of thousands, there must be, of the dead!
+
+The voice of Blake was husky with horror. "What a choice little bit
+out of hell!" he exclaimed. "Mac, did you say they were our friends?
+God help us if they're not!"
+
+"They are," said McGuire grimly. "Those are Althora's people who had
+forgotten how to fight; they are recapturing something that they lost
+some centuries ago. But can they ever destroy the rest of that swarm?
+I don't think they have the heart to do it."
+
+"They do not need." It was Althora speaking. "My people are sickened
+with the slaughter. But the red ones will go back into the earth, and
+we will seal them in!--it is Djorn who tells me--and the world will be
+ours forevermore."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A matter of two short days, crammed to the uttermost with the
+realization of the astounding turn of events--and McGuire and Althora
+stood with Blake and Djorn, the ruler, undisputed, of the beautiful
+world of Venus. A fleet of great ships was roaring high in air. One
+only, the flagship, was waiting where their little group stood.
+
+The bodies of the fallen had been recovered; they were at rest now in
+the ships that waited above. McGuire looked about in final wonder at
+the sparkling city bathed in a flood of gold. A kindly city
+now--beautiful; the terrors it had held were fading from his mind. He
+turned to Althora.
+
+"We are going home," he said softly, "you and I."
+
+"Home?" Althora's voice was vibrant with dismay.
+
+"We need you here, friend Mack Guire," the voice of Djorn broke in, in
+protest. "You have something that we lack--a force and vision--something
+we have lost."
+
+"We will be back," the flyer assured him. "You befriended me: anything
+I can do in return--" The grip of his hand completed the sentence.
+
+"But there is a grave to be made on the summit of Mount Lawson," he
+added quietly. "I think he would have preferred to lie there--at the
+end of his journey--and I must return to the service where I have not
+yet been mustered out."
+
+"But you said--you were going home," faltered Althora. "Will that
+always be home to you, Tommy?"
+
+"Home, my dear," he whispered in words that reached her only, "is just
+where you are." His arm went about her to draw her toward the waiting
+ship. "There or here--what matter? We will be content."
+
+Her eyes were misty as they smiled an answer. Within the ship that was
+lifting them, they turned to watch a city of opal light grow faintly
+luminous in the distance ... an L-shaped continent shrunk to tiny size ...
+and the nebulous vapors of the cloudland that enclosed this world folded
+softly about.
+
+"We will lead," the voice of Blake was saying to an aide: "same
+formation that we used coming over. Give the necessary orders. But,"
+he added slowly to himself, "the line will be shorter; there are fewer
+of us now."
+
+An astronomical officer laid a chart before the commander. "We are on
+the course, sir," he reported.
+
+"Full speed," Blake gave the order, and the thundering generator
+answered from the stern. The Space Fleet of America was going home.
+
+
+(_The End_)
+
+
+
+
+_A meeting Place for Readers of_ Astounding Stories
+
+[Illustration: _The Readers' Corner_]
+
+
+_"Absurd" to "Superb"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     Unfortunately, I missed the January number of your very
+     excellent magazine, which I consider superior to any of its
+     type. I brought seven copies--February to August--with me on
+     my vacation, and have so far read the first three from cover
+     to cover.
+
+     The February and March numbers were almost above reproach,
+     but the April number contained two stories so surprisingly
+     poor that I can only conjecture the Editor was ill at that
+     time. They were "The Man who was Dead," by Thomas H. Knight
+     and "Monsters of Moyen," by Arthur J. Burks. For Mr. Knight
+     there is no hope. To him I can only say "Stop trying to
+     write and get a job." I am a rapid and omnivorous reader,
+     but never have I read a story so utterly bad as his. He gets
+     the booby prize.
+
+     Arthur J. Burks, although a master artist in comparison to
+     Knight, is pretty poor--terrible, in fact. His style is
+     dull, repetitious, and stilted. His melodrama is exaggerated
+     to the point of nauseating absurdity. His characters are
+     lifeless and unnatural puppets. So much for the faults.
+
+     Among the best Science Fiction stories I have read is "The
+     Planet of Dread," by R. F. Starzl in the August number. I
+     also very much enjoyed the "Dr. Bird" stories by Capt. Meek,
+     and indeed all the others, barring the two I criticized in
+     such a helpful, friendly spirit. Leinster and Cummings are
+     old favorites of mine.
+
+     I prefer your present cover but disagree with your attitude
+     towards reprinting the older works of such authors as George
+     Allen England, Serviss and Cummings, which are now
+     unobtainable and would, I believe, be received with pleasure
+     and applause.
+
+     Congratulations--Joseph S. Stull, 291 Barrington St.,
+     Rochester, N. Y.
+
+     P.S. Since I wrote I have read the May and June
+     numbers--both perfect. C. D. Willard is a superb
+     storyteller.
+
+
+_Wrong Numbers Still!_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I agree with the rest of your readers in the good things
+     they say about your magazine in "The Readers' Corner." There
+     is one story, however, "The Planet of Dread," in your August
+     issue, that gives me a rather sickening feeling of disgust.
+     The trouble was in the climax. After the hero has wandered
+     over quite a portion of the planet Inra, he arrives at some
+     mountains where, lo and behold! an unexpected space ship
+     drops from the clouds to an unfrequented ledge of rock and
+     makes a rescue. After this sensational climax comes an
+     equally thrilling anti-climax--the hero is offered three
+     years' salary for his story. To accuse the future world of
+     doing such a thing is an open insult to our posterity. Ten
+     per cent of my high school freshmen took just such an ending
+     to their first themes.
+
+     As that story took up about one-seventh of your space and
+     your magazine cost twenty cents. I figure you owe your
+     readers three cents on that issue. But, due to the fineness
+     of the rest of your stories, I am willing to forget your
+     debt as far as I am concerned.
+
+     I am happy to see that you are beginning to print articles.
+     I read with interest the one about Mechanical Voices for
+     Telephone Numbers in your September issue. But can't
+     something be done about wrong numbers? The article states
+     that a person dialed the number 8561T. Two seconds later the
+     loud-speaker spoke up, clearly, in an almost human voice,
+     8651T. Wrong number! Must this evil be with us always!
+
+     I am NOT in favor of reprints. You are printing stories
+     every month just as good as any of those suggested to you. I
+     have read most of those classic scientific stories referred
+     to. The best stories along this line have not been written
+     yet. Keep your space clear for them. Let us have young blood
+     with new ideas. Let our authors eat. Good stories were never
+     written on an empty stomach.
+
+     I believe yours is the highest type of the few magazines
+     that lay a greater stress on the brains of the hero than on
+     his good looks. But, for the sake of one of your ardent
+     readers, let that hero use his brains to get himself out of
+     whatever he has gotten into. Don't let a space ship swoop
+     down from above to rescue him. That type of story reminds me
+     a lot of the one where Jonah was rescued from the deep by
+     the timely arrival of the friendly whale. By the way,
+     there's a suggestion for a reprint. I will admit that it
+     would be just about as new to me as some of the others that
+     have been suggested in this "Corner."--Richard Lewis, 448
+     Marion St., Knoxville, Iowa.
+
+
+_Not So "Green" in Ireland_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I suppose it's not often you get a letter from an Irish
+     "Paddy," but here's one now. Here in Cork we don't get
+     magazines like Astounding Stories regularly, but I got the
+     May issue to-day and could not stop until I had devoured it
+     from cover to cover. "The Atom Smasher" is a story which I
+     have been hunting for for years. When I had finished it, I
+     had to sit back and leave out all the breath which I was
+     holding in in a prolonged "whew!" If ever I get the luck to
+     find another Astounding Stories I'll burn up the pages
+     looking for the name Victor Rousseau. Next in order I liked
+     "Brigands of the Moon" and "The Jovian Jest." Thought the
+     story "Into the Ocean's Depths" an awful fairy tale, but
+     otherwise good reading. The painter of the cover design is a
+     real artist and I wish to express my appreciation of his
+     wonderful rendering of a difficult subject.--Fitz-Gerald
+     Grattan, 11 Frankfield Terrace, Summerhill South, Cork,
+     Irish Free State.
+
+
+_Worthy His Evening and Pipe_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I have read my first copy of Astounding Stories, the
+     September.
+
+     The first paragraph in the first part of "A Problem in
+     Communication" assured me that I had found a book worthy of
+     my evening and pipe.
+
+     Read that paragraph and you will find Dr. Miles Breuer is
+     most brilliant in his philosophy and clever in the
+     application of that philosophy in his masterpiece of the
+     science of communication.--Don L. Schweitzer, 1402 Bancroft
+     St., Omaha, Nebr.
+
+
+_"Taking a Claw Hold"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     Was just reading the September issue of A. S. and find it
+     ranging first among the Science Fiction magazines now
+     printed. I'm certain your "Jetta of the Lowlands" is going
+     to be a masterpiece of Ray Cummings. He is my favorite
+     writer.
+
+     I did not like "Earth, the Marauder." It was too much drawn
+     out and very dry. "Brigands of the Moon" was excellent.
+
+     I wish you would print my letter, as I'd like any one, male
+     of female, interested in science to write to me. Would you
+     kindly oblige me?
+
+     I'm glad to see girls taking interest in your magazine, as
+     it shown science is taking a claw hold on everyone--Harold
+     BegGell, 29 Stewart St., Washington, N. J.
+
+
+_This and That_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     In the October issue of Astounding Stories, Mr. Woodrow
+     Gelman casts vote No. 1 for reprints. Well, here is vote No.
+     2. I intended to reply to all your arguments against
+     reprint, but Mr. Gelman has done this very satisfactorily,
+     indeed. I only wish to make a few additional comments.
+
+     You say that only one out of a hundred haven't read reprints
+     [?]. Fifty out of a hundred would be more correct. Five
+     years ago there wasn't a single magazine devoted exclusively
+     to Science Fiction. Now there are six of them, more or less.
+     These magazines have converted thousands of readers into
+     Science Fiction fans. These readers ought to be given a
+     chance to read the old masterpieces. Even those who have
+     read them would be glad to reread them.
+
+     With the exception of the reprints you have pretty near
+     carried out all the readers' wishes. You have put in a
+     readers' department, increased Wesso's illustrations, given
+     us many interplanetary stories, and given us the stories of
+     the leading authors of the day. Surely you can give us
+     reprints when the demand for them is so universal. The ones
+     I want are those written by Cummings, Merritt, Rousseau and
+     Serviss, and I am sure that the rest of the readers want
+     them too. If you are still doubtful, the fairest thing to do
+     is to conduct a vote among the readers. I hope that you
+     will pardon me for being so persistent, but I am sure that
+     you are working in the best interests of the readers and
+     that you will accede to a great and growing popular demand.
+
+     Now about the latest issue of Astounding Stories. "The
+     Invisible Death" is the best novelette you have printed up
+     to now. With the exception of Ray Cummings, the best author
+     you have is Victor Rousseau. I am glad to see that there is
+     another story by Rousseau scheduled for next month. Murray
+     Leinster is a close third, and I hope to see more of his
+     stories soon. The second part of "Jetta of the Lowlands" was
+     better than the first. "Stolen Brains" was also excellent.
+     Keep on printing the Dr. Bird stories. I like them very
+     much.
+
+     Although the stories were splendid, the cover illustration
+     was poor. I believe that this is the worst cover that Wesso
+     has ever drawn. The main fault with it is that there is no
+     science in it. It would be more appropriate for one of those
+     detective magazines. "The Invisible Death" has many other
+     interesting scenes from which Wesso could have chosen a more
+     fitting subject. However, Wesso is your best artist and you
+     ought to keep him.--Michael Forgaris, 157 Fourth St.,
+     Passale, N. J.
+
+
+_"Not Spoiled by ... Editor"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     There is one advantage that Astounding Stories has over all
+     of the other Science Fiction magazines. It does not
+     overburden one with an exposition of scientific facts. Too
+     often a story is ruined by a lot of dry textbook stuff that
+     turns an exciting story into a lecture.
+
+     In Astounding Stories we can soar away on the wings of
+     imagination, escaping the humdrum everyday world to new and
+     amazing adventures. The hours fly away like the speed of
+     light, and upon finishing the book our only regret is that
+     we have to wait a whole month before another issue takes us
+     aloft again.
+
+     Having unburdened myself thus far, I think it is most
+     fitting to comment upon your latest (October) issue. To my
+     mind, the stories in order of merit are: "The Invisible
+     Death," "Stolen Brains," "Jetta of the Lowlands," "Prisoners
+     on the Electron," and "An Extra Man."
+
+     I certainly am glad to see Ray Cummings writing for your
+     most excellent magazine. He is an A-1 author.
+
+     It does not make a particle of difference to me about the
+     size of the magazine, but I wish you would have smooth edges
+     like those of your Five-Novels Monthly.
+
+     Am glad to see that "The Readers' Corner" is enlarged. I
+     always turn to this first, even before reading the stories.
+     This is a most entertaining department, and I'm glad it is
+     not spoiled by any perfunctory remarks from the editor.
+
+     How about publishing Astounding Stories twice a month?--E.
+     Anderson, 1765 Southern Blvd., New York City, New York.
+
+
+_Roses, Daisies and Violets_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     In appreciation of an enjoyable evening of reading--which
+     extended, by the way, into the wee, sma' hours of early
+     morning--I thought to drop you a few lines, speaking of the
+     high regards your magazine. Astounding Stories, has won from
+     me through merit alone. Your October number particularly
+     fitted into my reading mood last night.
+
+     After the daily grind of newspaper work, it might seem odd
+     that relaxation is sought in "more reading"--but it has been
+     my experience, and that of many of my co-workers. I find,
+     that the relief from the high tension of our trade comes
+     from the change in the character of what we read, rather
+     than in "something else," such as physical recreation.
+     Fiction relaxes where "news" has keyed up.
+
+     And in the Science Fiction of your magazine's stories of
+     super-science, I find the keenest periods of mental
+     enjoyment through the admirable selection of Astounding
+     Stories' mixed adventure, unique travel and prophetic
+     science. In this I am not alone--a number of my
+     acquaintances have reveled likewise in your magazine at my
+     suggestion.
+
+     I have not quite settled in my mind as to whether you have
+     trained your writers to exploit this special field of
+     magazine fiction, which you occupy so successfully, or, in
+     your editorial capacity, have so well selected the stories
+     that bear the hallmarks of this peculiar interest that
+     appeals so strongly to my leisure hours.
+
+     By whichever road your success has been reached is
+     immaterial--Astounding Stories has registered with me in a
+     degree which should be flattering to your editorial
+     supervision, if I represent, as I think I do, that large
+     class of magazine readers who prefer and seek a
+     science-coated outlet from the humdrum of every day living
+     in mental adventure and travel-thrill reading.
+
+     Have I presented clearly why and how much I like your
+     magazine of Astounding Stories!--E. P. Neill, 910 East Ave.,
+     Red Wing, Minn.
+
+
+_"Much Easier to Turn"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     Once more I am impelled to give a roar. The last few issues
+     have been filled with letters from readers who are evidently
+     not satisfied with a "different" magazine. If they do not
+     like to read "our" magazine then let them quit, but don't
+     let a heckling minority spoil a real treat. My particular
+     growl this time is directed towards Robert Baldwin and
+     others of his ilk, who squawk about the size (i. e. length
+     and width) of the mag and the uneven pages. The size is
+     perfect (and just because the craze for standardization has
+     hit some of the other Science Fiction mags and they have
+     gone ga-ga over being an awkward shape, that is no reason
+     for your going ahead and spoiling this one) and the uneven
+     pages are a relief when reading because it is much easier to
+     turn over a leaf when they are of a slightly different
+     width.
+
+     However, to take some of the sting off, I must say some of
+     the ideas of said Mr. Baldwin are O. K. Enlarge the mag--of
+     course you will, as readers increase and sales go up.
+     Larger, as he says, "It will be worth the other jitney." Put
+     ads in the rear. Have full page illustrations when possible.
+     But another thing he is absolutely wrong on. Please do not
+     adopt the antique method of continuing a story on page
+     umptyump.
+
+     Some of the readers are still yowling for reprints. Well, it
+     is true that some reprints would be very acceptable.
+     However, as most of the really good old-time tales of
+     Science Fiction can be procured in any good sized library,
+     why bother to print them and thus decrease the space
+     allotted to our new authors, some of whom are even better
+     than Wells, Verne, etc., much as I like the old masters.
+
+     By the way, my "enlarge" in the second paragraph means in
+     thickness (amount of reading matter), not shape.
+
+     Wesso has always been good, and he seems to be improving,
+     though he and others might be still better if they would
+     carefully read the descriptions of persons and animals of
+     other planets before picturing them. I don't wish to make
+     this blurb too long, so will not be specific, but you and
+     others probably have seen the same as I, where the
+     illustration has not been true to the description.
+
+     It might interest you to know that I have been instrumental
+     in getting several new readers for Astounding Stories. Long
+     live "our" new mag.--Robert J Hyatt, 1353 Kenyon St., N. W.,
+     Washington, D. C.
+
+
+_Ow! Ow! Ow!_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I have just looked at "The Reader's Corner" in the October
+     issue of Astounding Stories. It disgusted me. What you print
+     there--only letters praising your magazine to the skies?--or
+     do you occasionally print a brickbat?
+
+     I've bought your magazine each time since it was first
+     printed. And many times I've felt like quitting. Why? There
+     are a number of reasons.
+
+     First, you print stories that have nothing to do with
+     science, such as "The Soul Master." Second, your
+     illustrations are poor. They would look better if they were
+     full page ones. Wesso is the best artist you have. Gould and
+     Sabo are just plain cartoonists, and mighty poor ones at
+     that. Third, you print stories that give a weak and
+     implausible scientific basis. Diffin, Gee, Leinster and
+     several others err in this respect. Fourth, rotten paper--it
+     goes to pieces after being handled. Fifth, no editorial or
+     science questionnaire.
+
+     Your authors will not starve if you print reprints. Rousseau
+     and a lot of others write for other magazines. And reprints
+     would occupy such a measly space that they could hardly be
+     called down for being printed.
+
+     Your magazine has some good features: a good cover; good
+     authors like Breuer, Vincent, Meek, Ernst and Starzl; clear
+     type; and handy size.
+
+     If anyone thinks I'm wrong--well my address is given. This
+     challenge includes the editor. I sincerely hope you will
+     improve your magazine--Edwin C. Magnuson, 1205 E. Ninth St.,
+     Duluth, Minn.
+
+
+_Suggestions_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I have read your excellent magazine ever since it came out,
+     and though it needs a few corrections like the others, A. S.
+     is nearly perfect. Why not have your pages evened up, and
+     add a department of science on subjects such as Rocket
+     Propulsion etc., so the readers could become familiar with
+     the mystifying problems stated in the stories? Have the
+     advertisements in the back, and don't change your artists as
+     their work is satisfactory.
+
+     Robert Baldwin of Illinois has an excellent list of
+     suggestions. Why not have a page devoted to the pictures and
+     biographies of your writers, and full page illustrations?
+     Why not have a space for good reprints and charge a nickel
+     more? I am sure it will be appreciated by readers. Why don't
+     you put out a Quarterly, twice as thick or containing twice
+     as many stories for fifty cents?--A satisfied reader--Hume
+     V. Stephani, 37-1/2 Wood St., Auburn, New York.
+
+
+_"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._
+
+
+[Illustration: Advertisement.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Astounding Stories, February, 1931, by Various
+
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+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories, February, 1931, 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, February, 1931
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30124]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES, FEBRUARY, 1931 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a name="Cover" id="Cover"></a>
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" width="350" height="509" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="500" height="212" alt="Cover"  />
+</div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h1>ASTOUNDING</h1>
+  <h2>STORIES</h2>
+
+<h3>20&cent;</h3>
+
+<h3><i>On Sale the First Thursday of Each Month</i></h3>
+<p>W. M. CLAYTON, Publisher&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;HARRY BATES, Editor&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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="280" 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, WESTERN ADVENTURES, and WESTERN LOVE STORIES.
+</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. V, No. 2&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;CONTENTS&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;February, 1931</h2>
+
+<table summary="Contents">
+<tr><td><a href="#Cover">COVER DESIGN</a></td>
+<td>H. W. WESSO</td><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "The Tentacles from Below."</i></td>
+<td></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Werewolves_of_War">WEREWOLVES OF WAR</a></td>
+<td>D. W. HALL</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>The Story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of Capt. Lance's Heroic Part in America's Last Mighty Battle with the United Slavs.</i></td>
+<td></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#The_Tentacles_From_Below">THE TENTACLES FROM BELOW</a></td>
+<td>ANTHONY GILMORE</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Down to Tremendous Ocean Depths Goes Commander Keith Wells in His Blind Duel
+with the Marauding "Machine-Fish."</i> (A Complete Novelette.)</td>
+<td></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#The_Black_Lamp">THE BLACK LAMP</a></td>
+<td>CAPTAIN S. P. MEEK</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Dr. Bird and His Friend Carnes Unravel Another Criminal Web of Scientific Mystery.</i></td>
+<td></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Phalanxes_of_Atlans">PHALANXES OF ATLANS</a></td>
+<td>F. V. W. MASON</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>Only in Dim Legends Did Mankind Remember Atlantis and the Lost Tribes&mdash;Until Victor Nelson's Extraordinary Adventure in the Unknown Arctic.</i> (Beginning a Two-Part
+Novel.)</td>
+<td></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#The_Pirate_Planet">THE PIRATE PLANET</a></td>
+<td>CHARLES W. DIFFIN</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>From Earth and Sub-Venus Converge a Titanic Offensive of Justice on the Unspeakable Man-Things of Torg.</i> (Conclusion.)</td>
+<td></td></tr>
+<tr><td><a href="#Readers_Corner">THE READERS' CORNER</a></td>
+<td>ALL OF US</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="td1"><i>A Meeting Place for Readers of</i><span class="smcap">Astounding Stories.</span></td>
+<td></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><b>Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents)&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yearly Subscription,
+$2.00</b></p>
+
+<p>Issued monthly by Readers' Guild, Inc., 80 Lafayette Street, New York,
+N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Francis P. Pace, 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&mdash;Men's List. For
+advertising rates address E. R. Crowe &amp; 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_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="500" height="565" alt="&quot;Hay crosses the gulf, taking with him the cord which
+controls the electro-magnet.&quot; "  />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Hay crosses the gulf, taking with him the cord which
+controls the electro-magnet.&quot; </span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="Werewolves_of_War" id="Werewolves_of_War"></a>Werewolves of War</h2>
+
+<h3><i>By D. W. Hall</i></h3>
+
+
+<h4>PART I</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>rapped again!</p>
+
+<p>But this time, Lance swore, they'd not get away without paying dearly
+for it!</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of Capt. Lance's heroic
+part in America's last mighty battle with the United Slavs.</div>
+
+<p>Under the mesh of his gas-mask the lean lines of his jaw went taut.
+Tense, steely fingers flipped to the knobbed control instruments; the
+gleaming single-seater scout plane catapulted in a screaming
+somersault. Lance's ever-wary sixth sense told him the tongues of
+disintegrating flame had licked the plane's protected belly, and for
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>the fact that it was protected he thanked again his stupendous luck.
+He pulled savagely at the squat control stick; the four Rahl-Diesels
+unleashed a torrent of power; and the slim scout rose like a comet,
+and hurtled, the altitude dial's nervous finger proclaimed, to ten
+thousand feet. Lance eased off the power, relaxed slightly, and
+glanced below.</p>
+
+<p>They'd started off a squadron of fifteen planes. Thirteen had crumpled
+beneath that treacherous, stabbing curtain of disintegrating flame.
+Only two of them were left&mdash;he and Praed.</p>
+
+<p>Praed, of course!</p>
+
+<p>The fellow's plane was pirouetting nearby. Lance was the squadron
+leader. He jammed his thin-lipped mouth close to the "mike" and
+rasped:</p>
+
+<p>"They trapped us again! There's some damn spy at our base. Stand by,
+Praed! They'll send up a few men to wipe us out, too ... and we're
+goin' to square the account!"</p>
+
+<p>He listened for Praed's answer. Presently it came.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't! They got two of my motors. I'm limping badly. We'd better
+beat it while we can."</p>
+
+<p>Lance's mouth curled. He roared:</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, then, beat it! But I'm goin' to take a couple of 'em, anyway."
+Disgusted, filled with red anger, he flung the phones from his head,
+watched Praed's plane whirl its stubby nose for home, settled himself
+alertly in the low, padded seat and concentrated his attention on the
+ground below.</p>
+
+<p>He'd been right. Tiny, gray-clad figures were pouring from their
+barracks, rushing madly towards the dozen or so planes neatly drawn up
+on the field. Lance's mouth twitched. They probably wondered, down
+there, why the devil he didn't beat it&mdash;like Praed! He stroked the
+lever which controlled his five gas bombs, centered his battery of
+incendiary-bullet machine-guns and ruthlessly shoved the control stick
+full over.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he Rahl-Diesels pumped at full power; his plane plummetted downwards
+with the speed of light, a hurtling shell of steel. His unexpected
+move took the men below by surprise. Lance knew they needed at least
+ten minutes to prepare another salvo of disintegrating flame; he had
+about four minutes left.</p>
+
+<p>There was a restless, thudding chatter, and his bullets began to mow
+them down.</p>
+
+<p>Lance could see the horrified expressions of the men beneath, and
+chuckled grimly as they sought to escape the wrath of his hot guns. He
+flung bursts of spouting, acid-filled lead at the defenseless planes,
+and saw two of them collapse in shrouds of acrid white smoke. And
+still he dove.</p>
+
+<p>At a bare one hundred feet he tugged the control stick back, and the
+tiny scout groaned under the pull of her motors. Then her snout jolted
+upwards. Lance pounded the gas bomb lever, and smiled a tight smile as
+he sensed the five pills sloping down from their compartment in the
+scout's belly.</p>
+
+<p>A second later came a rolling, ear-numbing crash. Lance, safe at a
+perch of a few thousand feet, grinned as his narrowed eyes beheld the
+sticky curtain of death-crammed gas hug over the enemy base.</p>
+
+<p>"That'll quiet 'em for a few minutes!" he muttered savagely.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes&mdash;but not more. And he had no more bombs; his ammunition
+belts were nearly depleted. "I guess," he murmured, "I'd better follow
+that quitter, Praed. I've paid 'em for the boys they got, anyway!"</p>
+
+<p>He levelled the plane out, threw a last glance at the carpet of gas he
+had laid, and spurred the purring Rahl-Diesels to their limit. His
+speed dial flashed round to five hundred, five-fifty&mdash;seventy&mdash;and
+finally rested, quivering, at the scout's full six hundred miles per
+hour.</p>
+
+<p>Under the streamlined plane's speeding body the gnarled, bomb-torn
+terrain of Nevada hurtled by. A rather sad frown creased Lance's
+prematurely old brow as he glimpsed it. Thousands of lives had been
+thrown into that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> ground; the hot, tumbled waste was doused with
+freely-sacrificed blood, the blood of whole regiments of America's
+heroic First Home Army. Martyred men! Lance couldn't help swearing to
+himself at the bitter thought of that terrible reckoning day. It was
+the price his country had paid for her continued ignoring of the
+festering peril overseas. Slaughtered like sheep, those glorious
+regiments had been! Helpless, almost, before the ultra-modern war
+weapons of the United Slav hordes, they'd stopped the numbingly quick
+advance merely by the weight of their bodies. Like little Belgium, in
+1914. They'd held the Slavs to California, ravished, war-desolated
+California.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he thin front-line trenches far behind, Lance began a slanting dive
+that raised his speed well over six hundred. Through the front
+magnifying mirror he spied the squat khaki buildings of his base.
+Werewolves of War, the batch of planes he belonged to had been
+christened, and it was a richly deserved title. In front of the front
+they fought, detailed to desperate, harrying missions, losing an
+average of ten men a day. The ordeal of gas and fire and acid bullets
+added five years to a man's brow overnight&mdash;if he served with the
+Werewolves of War.</p>
+
+<p>Lance was only twenty-four, but his hair was splotched with dead gray
+strands; his eyes were hard and weary; his face lined with new
+wrinkles. Ah, well, it was war&mdash;and a losing war, he had to admit,
+that they fought. If a miracle didn't come, America would crumble even
+as old Europe had, before the overwhelming Slavish troops.</p>
+
+<p>Even now, as Lance knew through various rumors, the Slavs were massed
+for a grand attack. And with what could America hold them back?</p>
+
+<p>His helicopter props spun, and the scout nestled down lightly on the
+tarmac. Lance switched off the faithful Rahl-Diesels, swung open the
+tiny door and leaped from the enclosed cockpit.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," he rapped to thin, stern-browed Colonel Douglas, "there's no
+longer any doubt in my mind. This is the fifth time we've been
+anticipated&mdash;trapped! The enemy is informed directly of the attacking
+plans of our scout details. There's a spy at this base!" He lowered
+his eyes for a second and said in a queer tone of voice: "Thirteen of
+'em went down to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Douglas' tired face showed the never-ceasing strain he was
+under. He clasped hands behind his back, took a few nervous turns up
+and down the small office and finally, with a somewhat hopeless sigh,
+muttered:</p>
+
+<p>"I know, Lance, I know. The devils! They seem to be aware of
+everything we plan. Yet what can we do? Look at the territory our
+front lines cover! More than two thousand miles of loosely held
+ground. And we're so damnably organized, man! Look here!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e strode to the huge map which covered entirely one wall of the
+little room and ran his forefinger down the long red line, signifying
+the American front, which stretched crookedly from the Canadian border
+to the Gulf of California. Parallel to it was another line, of
+black&mdash;the United Slavs.</p>
+
+<p>"It's so damned easy," Colonel Douglas said, "for a spy to slip over."
+He sighed again. "I fought in the scrap of 1917 as a kid of twenty; it
+was different then. But this is 1938, and it's a scientific war we're
+trying to fight." He sat down in his swivel chair. "How&mdash;how did they
+wipe you out to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"That blasted disintegrating flame again," Lance told him swiftly.
+"It's obvious, Colonel: how did the Slavs know we were going to raid
+that comparatively unimportant base of theirs at such and such a time?
+They had the flame shooters all ready for us&mdash;and at a place where
+they've never had them before! We came up at twenty-five thousand
+feet, dropped down in a full power dive, and"&mdash;he gestured
+widely&mdash;"biff! The flames caught us neatly at the regulation thousand
+feet. They got thirteen men. Only two got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> away, Praed and myself."
+His keen eyes were inquiring, and the colonel interpreted their look
+correctly.</p>
+
+<p>"Praed," he murmured. "Yes, I saw him come back, by himself. He said
+you were following. Two of his motors were shot. He seems to bear a
+charmed life, doesn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>Lance nodded. He didn't like to hint at the thought he had in mind. It
+seemed a cowardly, stab-in-the-back thing to do. Yet it was duty, and
+there was no questioning duty.</p>
+
+<p>"I've never seen Praed shoot down an enemy plane," he said slowly.
+"This is the fifth time we've been ambushed&mdash;and Praed's never been
+caught. Somehow, he's always seemed to be aware of what was coming."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;?" the colonel questioned.</p>
+
+<p>Lance shook his head. "I don't want to commit myself, Colonel Douglas,
+but&mdash;I'm suggesting that we&mdash;well&mdash;keep our eyes peeled, and perhaps
+watch certain members of the outfit more closely."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>ouglas rose as his orderly, Ranth, came into the room. "Find
+Lieutenant Praed for me," the colonel ordered crisply. Then, turning
+to Lance, he said: "You'd better knock off a few hours' sleep. You are
+worn out."</p>
+
+<p>Lance watched the orderly, Ranth, salute and leave. Ranth was heavy,
+thick-built, with closely set eyes. The young squadron leader was
+suddenly conscious that he was, as the colonel said, worn out; his
+limbs seemed leaden, his eyelids heavy. "I think you're right, sir,"
+he murmured, and walked out onto the field.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing Praed's machine drawn up with the overall-clad figure of a
+mechanic fussing at its motors, he wandered over to survey it. The
+scout was an exact replica of his, a model of the famous Goshawk type.
+It was all motor&mdash;everything being sacrificed to speed. On either side
+of the stubby brow of the fuselage, which held the death-dealing
+battery of three machine-guns, were set the four Rahl-Diesel motors,
+back to back. The pilot's tiny enclosed cockpit was thus surrounded by
+engines. In the V-shaped, smooth-lined wings were the two helicopter
+props; further back, inside the steel-sheathed, bullet-like fuselage,
+the radio outfit and fuel tanks. The craft's rounded belly covered the
+gas bomb compartment.</p>
+
+<p>The mechanic was a little cockney Englishman, a fugitive, like all his
+countrymen, from the horror which had stricken England suddenly and
+left her wallowing in her life blood. He looked up at Lance, and a
+smile broke forth on his wizened, sharp little face.</p>
+
+<p>"It's got me beat, sir," he said in his curious, twanging voice.
+"Lieutenant Praed, 'e sez to me, 'Somethin' wrong with two of me
+motors,' 'e sez. 'They quit on me quite sudden like. Look 'em over,
+will you?' 'e sez. So I been lookin' 'em over. But they ain't nothin'
+wrong with the bloody things, sir&mdash;nothin' at all!"</p>
+
+<p>"It does seem funny, doesn't it, Wells?" Lance said levelly. He'd
+known it all along. Praed was a quitter&mdash;a yellow-belly&mdash;besides
+being&mdash;But he stopped there. He had no definite proof. It was unjust
+to accuse a man of <i>that</i> without definite, positive proof.</p>
+
+<p>The little mechanic muttered some mysterious cockney curse, and then
+said, in an admiring tone:</p>
+
+<p>"'Ow many of the swines' planes 'ave you shot down now, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"About twenty, I think," Lance told him gruffly. The cockney shot his
+breath out with a whistle.</p>
+
+<p>"Cripes! You'll be up to that there Captain Hay soon if you keeps it
+up, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>Lance laughed. Hay, the almost legendary hero of the American Air
+Force&mdash;who had shot down, so latest rumors said, fifty Slav
+planes&mdash;was far above him. "I'll never reach Hay's record, Wells. I'll
+be doing pretty well if I bag half as many!" Then, seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> Ranth, the
+orderly, followed by Praed, he strode quickly away and came face to
+face with the latter.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>or a moment the two men eyed each other, a taut silence between them.
+Praed's thin, sun-blackened countenance was immovable, masklike. His
+blue-green eyes met Lance's steadily. Finally Lance snorted and burst
+out:</p>
+
+<p>"Why the hell did you run away, Praed? Scared stiff?"</p>
+
+<p>Praed's low voice, devoid of all trace of emotion, asked: "What makes
+you think I was scared, Lance?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know damn well what makes me think it! That lousy crack about
+your motors being shot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Two of my motors were limping."</p>
+
+<p>Lance gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Ask Wells about that, why don't you?
+He's got a few ideas on the subject."</p>
+
+<p>Praed repeated: "Two of my motors were limping," and abruptly he
+turned away, leaving Lance fuming, and went into Colonel Douglas'
+office.</p>
+
+<p>What would Douglas say to him? Accuse him outright of his suspicions?
+Put him under arrest as a spy? But he couldn't do that: there was,
+after all, no proof. Lance swore to himself; then, feeling a wave of
+weariness surge over him, went to the shack he was quartered in,
+kicked off his battered boots, stripped away his Sam Browne, and flung
+his lean body out on the hard, gray-sheeted cot. Seconds later he was
+lost in the sleep that comes to the physically exhausted. The
+desperate situation America was in, the whole savage war&mdash;everything,
+faded from his mind.</p>
+
+<p>But to right and left of that cot stretched others&mdash;empty. The brave
+squadron Lance had led into the blue sky that morning now lay charred
+skeletons around the flame-throwers that had struck them down.</p>
+
+<p>And in a dozen other aircraft bases behind the hard pressed lines were
+other empty cots. Time and time again the Slav planes shot down two to
+the Americans' one; time and time again the treacherous
+disintegrating flames&mdash;the weapon which baffled America's
+scientists&mdash;had struck down whole squadrons that had been lured into
+traps, even as Lance's had been lured.</p>
+
+<p>And even the Slav forces pushed forward....</p>
+
+
+<h4>PART II</h4>
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_y1.jpg" alt="Y" width="62" height="58" /></div>
+<p>ou're wanted by Colonel Douglas, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Lance felt a hand jarring his shoulder; he turned sleepily over,
+yawned, and stared up into the dark, full-cheeked face of Ranth, the
+orderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Douglas wants you," repeated Ranth. "It's five o'clock, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Wearily Lance pulled on his boots and adjusted the military belt. The
+night was hot and sticky; somewhere, miles to the rear of the base,
+the batteries of long-distance guns were beginning their nightly
+serenade. Lance followed the orderly's broad, chunky back to the
+colonel's office.</p>
+
+<p>The colonel gazed up with tired eyes from the welter of maps on his
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>"Lance," he said, "I'm changing the routine of the night patrol. A
+fresh batch of youngsters came in this afternoon to fill the empty
+files; two dozen new planes arrived by transport, too. I'm sending ten
+of them over for the night patrol; Stephens will take your place. I've
+got another errand for you&mdash;and Praed."</p>
+
+<p>Lance was conscious that Ranth was standing quietly behind the
+colonel's chair. Douglas ordered him to attend to some errand and the
+orderly left.</p>
+
+<p>"I had an interview with Praed," the colonel went on. "I didn't
+exactly accuse him of anything definite, but I think I threw a bit of
+a scare into him. To-night we'll give him the acid test.</p>
+
+<p>"You and he will fly over to-night to investigate Hill 333. There have
+been rumors that the Slavs are massing there, and we want positive
+information. There's sure to be a fight. Watch Praed carefully. If he
+steers clear of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> any scrapping, well have enough to court-martial him
+on. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Lance nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Right. It's a dangerous errand, Lance, but I'm confident you'll come
+through, as always. There's no one else who could handle the job. God,
+man, you're getting close to Hay's record! You'll be the top-notcher
+of the service soon!"</p>
+
+<p>The young man laughed briefly. "No danger of that. When do we take
+off, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Douglas consulted his watch. "Seven-fifteen. Come and get the dope
+from these maps. Hill 333's rather difficult to find."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything been happening at the front, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>The colonel passed both fine-fingered hands over his lined face. He
+said quietly: "Yes. The Slavs took twenty-five miles from us down in
+the lower sector. Just wiped our boys out. Those damnable
+flame-throwers and bullet-proof tanks, supported by God knows how many
+hundreds of planes. It's hell, Lance! Headquarters thinks they're
+going to unleash a general attack all along the line in the next few
+days. And our resources&mdash;well, our back's against the wall. We're
+coming to death grips, man."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>even-fifteen....</p>
+
+<p>Lance pressed the starting button. His four motors choked, sputtered,
+then burst into a sweet, full-throated roar. He glanced over at
+Praed's plane, spun the small helicopter props over and pushed down
+the accelerator. The plane quivered, stuck its snout up and leaped
+like an arrow into the clean, darkening air. Lance gunned it to ten
+thousand feet, Praed following him neatly. Praed was a good pilot, no
+doubt about that. The two fighting machines hung for a second side by
+side; Lance eased off his helicopters and streaked away into the gloom
+at a breath-taking five hundred.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope," muttered Colonel Douglas as the two tiny scouts sped from
+sight, "that everything goes smoothly. They're the men to do it,
+anyway. No better pilots in the whole service."</p>
+
+<p>"Wot abaht that there Captain Hay, sir?" put in Wells, the mechanic,
+standing nearby. Colonel Douglas smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course!" he amended. "I'd forgotten Hay!"</p>
+
+<p>Once more they were anticipated! Lance, at thirty thousand feet&mdash;the
+Rahl-Diesels, with their perfected superchargers, were easily capable
+of a ceiling of sixty&mdash;had hovered above the position of Hill 333,
+pulled on his gas-mask and said through the microphone to Praed:</p>
+
+<p>"Power dive to three thousand feet. Release your flares and take in
+all you can before they send up planes. We'll take 'em by surprise,
+but there's bound to be a fight. Got it?"</p>
+
+<p>The steady reply came back: "Okay."</p>
+
+<p>Whereat Lance set his teeth in his customary fighting grin, jockied up
+his ammunition belts, glanced at the flare-parachutes folded alongside
+the cabin and plunged the scout in a dive that tipped six hundred and
+fifty miles and threatened to crack the speed dial.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ut surprise? Nothing doing! Like angry hornets five Slav planes
+pounced on them at ten thousand feet. They'd been waiting there! Lance
+cursed savagely. He flung off his flares, Immelmanned up, and in less
+than two seconds had sent one Slav shrieking to the ground in flames.
+For the moment forgetting Praed, Lance followed after his flares,
+three Slavs attempting to sight their guns on the twisting, writhing,
+corkscrewing body of his Goshawk. He knew there were disintegrating
+flame-throwers below, but gambled on their not shooting because of the
+enemy scouts diving with him.</p>
+
+<p>Flattening out at perhaps a thousand feet, Lance threw a rapid stare
+at the bulk of Hill 333. He drew his breath in sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Lit dazzlingly by the bleaching white of the slow-floating flares,
+huge rows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> of the dreaded Slav tanks were clustered all around the
+hill!</p>
+
+<p>As he looked, ten more Slav planes came soaring up from the ground.
+This was too hot! The thought of Praed stabbed through Lance's
+whirling brain; he pulled the scout around, doubled over the three
+closing in on his tail, and belched lead for an instant at one he'd
+caught off guard. It collapsed like a punctured paper bag. Lance
+grinned and bounded to the upper regions. The two other Slavs let the
+crazy Yank go for the instant, joining forces with the ten brothers
+coming to help them out.</p>
+
+<p>Lance, again at ten thousand, looked for Praed. Far above, he glimpsed
+two planes, circling and diving. Praed seemed to be fighting, at any
+rate! As he watched, the two scouts catapulted still higher; became
+tiny, almost imperceptible dots, visible only in the reflected light
+of the flares. Then Lance felt a shaft of ice along his spine.</p>
+
+<p>The two planes had practically hugged each other for a second. Then
+one of them fell away, somersaulted, tumbled down wildly&mdash;out of
+control.</p>
+
+<p>It passed Lance like a falling rock.</p>
+
+<p>And it was Praed's scout!</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" muttered Lance. "He's been shot down!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he next moment the twelve Slavs were on him like a hurricane. Motors
+roaring, Lance stood them off&mdash;flinging a burst of lead here, dropping
+out of range here, looping, catapulting, zooming&mdash;fazing them with
+every trick he knew. A dozen times he sensed the zinging wrath of
+storms of bullets, a dozen times he escaped death by the breadth of a
+hair. Not for nothing was he called one of the best pilots in the
+service, second only to Hay.</p>
+
+<p>He bagged another of the Slavs, and began to think of getting away.
+Praed had proved himself, but had been killed in doing so. He's got
+the dope on Hill 333. Now for the getaway.</p>
+
+<p>As he whirled, another Slav plane&mdash;the one that had got Praed&mdash;dove
+down from above. And, in the last second of the ghostly light of the
+flares, Lance's bewildered eyes saw the face of the man inside it.</p>
+
+<p><i>That face was Praed's!</i></p>
+
+<p>Praed, inside an enemy scout! Praed firing at him! Praed, not dead!</p>
+
+<p>Lance was dumbfounded. He almost died, just then, for he felt his
+senses stagger, and relaxed his maneuvering. Praed! What&mdash;how&mdash;He
+couldn't begin to reckon it out.</p>
+
+<p>If the flares hadn't died at that instant, Lance must have been shot
+down. Luckily, they expired; pitch darkness washed over everything.
+The lights on the Slav planes switched on, their prying beams
+fingering the sky for Lance's plane. But Lance was somewhat himself
+again. He jammed the accelerator down, dove headlong, flattened out
+and streaked for home. The speed of the Goshawk snatched him
+faithfully from the jaws of the Slavs. He left then milling behind.
+Left Praed with them!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>olonel Douglas was waiting for him. Lance's face must have been a
+study, for the elder man laughed shortly. "You need a drink!" he
+decided, and poured out a stiff tot of rum. Lance downed it with a
+nervous gulp and sprawled in a chair, the glass held weakly in
+quivering fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Dead silence brooded over the whole base. Even the muttering guns were
+still. One green-shaded light threw the maps on Douglas' desk into
+glaring prominence; besides that, there was no illumination anywhere
+in the 'drome. Lance knew he had a thumping headache and that his eyes
+were lumps of pain. The glass fell from his hand and crashed on the
+floor. It seemed to stir the young captain, for at last he looked up
+and met the colonel's inquiring gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" The colonel was terse.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw Praed shot down," Lance mumbled, as if to himself, "and then I
+saw him&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" Douglas strode rapidly to the door which led to the other
+rooms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> of the building. After glancing to right and left, with an
+explanatory "Walls sometimes have ears, you know!" he locked the door
+carefully again, came back, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Talk in a whisper! How about Hill 333?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tanks massed there," Lance said slowly. "Yeh, I saw that, all right.
+They must be intending an attack on that sector. But&mdash;but&mdash;Praed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What happened?"</p>
+
+<p>Lance told him of the scrap, how Praed's plane had apparently rubbed
+wings with a Slav and then tumbled down, out of control. He concluded:
+"I figured that Praed was all right, that he'd proved himself, that he
+wasn't a spy, as we'd thought. <i>But the next moment I saw him in the
+Slav plane that had bagged his!"</i></p>
+
+<p>His wondering eyes sought the colonel's lean face. Lance expected to
+see it express amazement, incredulity. It didn't, though. He laughed!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hile Lance gaped, the older man went to the delicate machinery of the
+radiophone in one corner of the trim office. He clasped the earphones
+over his head, and spoke into the mike: "Headquarters, Air Force,
+Washington, Douglas, Base 5, speaking."</p>
+
+<p>A tense moment passed while his radio call was put through. Presently
+a green light flashed on the board. Douglas said swiftly:
+"Headquarters? Base 5, Colonel Douglas. Tanks massed around Hill 333;
+enemy evidently contemplates full attack on corresponding sector of
+our line. They know a scout of ours observed it, however; perhaps that
+will induce them to change their plans. This next is extremely
+important: <i>The first step of the Torpedo Plan has been successful!"</i></p>
+
+<p>For awhile he listened intently, replying with short-clipped
+affirmatives. Then he hung the headphones up and turned to the
+bewildered Lance. Colonel Douglas laughed again and rubbed his hands
+exultantly.</p>
+
+<p>"What the hell&mdash;" Lance began. The other pulled out a drawer of his
+desk and took from it a small placard.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you recognize the photo?" he asked smilingly.</p>
+
+<p>Lance looked at it. It was the picture of a man in the uniform of a
+captain of the Air Force, a row of battle ribbons on his straight,
+khaki-clad chest. But it was the figure's face that Lance stared at.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," he said finally. "It's a picture of Praed. But what&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not Praed," corrected the colonel. "Not Praed. Captain Basil Hay."</p>
+
+
+<h4>PART III</h4>
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_g1.jpg" alt="G" width="63" height="53" /></div>
+<p>ood Lord!" Lance exclaimed without knowing he did so. Praed&mdash;Hay!
+The same man! Then that was the secret; that explained things! Hay,
+the hero of the force!</p>
+
+<p>"You're entitled to a few explanations," Douglas said. "I'll give you
+the core of the whole scheme. There's no need to tell you that it must
+be guarded with your life." He drew his chair closer to Lance's.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's true. The man you knew as Praed in reality is Captain Hay.
+You see, Lance, headquarters was taking no chances with what I just
+called the Torpedo Plan. Every move had to be conducted with the
+utmost secrecy. Had to be! For the Torpedo Plan is, in some ways,
+America's last hope.</p>
+
+<p>"Our base, No. 5, was chosen as the center of activity, the base from
+which the steps paving the way for the plan would be taken. The two
+best pilots in the service were needed. You and Hay were chosen.</p>
+
+<p>"It was decided it would be best to mask Hay's real identity. So,
+officially, he was sent to the hospital; in reality he came here,
+under the name of Praed. Why? Because there's a spy somewhere&mdash;we
+don't seem to be able to track him; he's infernally clever&mdash;and if the
+famous Captain Hay was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> switched to Base 5, putting the two best
+pilots in the service together, that spy'd know something was in the
+air. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Lance nodded dumbly. A great light was beginning to shower him.</p>
+
+<p>"To more completely mask our true purpose," the colonel continued,
+"Hay was instructed to make it appear as if he were a spy. And it was
+a damned hard job! The real spy, whoever he is, and wherever he is,
+would thus be additionally fooled; for all he'd know, the Slavs might
+have sent another over to back him up. That's why Hay never shot down
+an enemy plane. Says something about his skill as a pilot, doesn't it?
+Never able to defend himself, save by maneuvering. He's a great
+flyer!"</p>
+
+<p>Lance could only nod dumbly again.</p>
+
+<p>"After a couple of weeks at this base," Douglas went on, "Hay was to
+cross the lines one night with you accompanying him. You,
+unintentionally, would thus occupy the enemy planes while Hay attended
+to the real business of the evening. And you did splendidly!"</p>
+
+<p>"The real business?" Lance questioned. "What the devil was that? I
+thought the real business was to get the dope on Hill 333."</p>
+
+<p>"So it was&mdash;partially. But also to take the first step of the Torpedo
+Plan, which was for Hay to switch over to a Slav plane."</p>
+
+<p><i>"What?"</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he colonel repeated his statement, somewhat dryly. Lance's square jaw
+dropped abruptly. "But&mdash;but&mdash;" he exclaimed, "how the devil could he
+do that?"</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Douglas grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"By a very neat contraption from the brain of one of our most valuable
+scientists," he explained. "Hay's scout was specially fitted up before
+you left; while you were sleeping, in fact. Two experts from
+Washington arrived with that batch of new recruits this afternoon. A
+tiny sliding door was cut in the fuselage of the scout and a sort of
+folding ladder put inside. It was motivated by some rather complex
+spring-work; but the really ingenious thing about it was the powerful
+electro-magnet at its base.</p>
+
+<p>"It's rather over my head," he smiled. "I'm a plain fighting man, and
+sometimes it seems that scientists and not fighting men are going to
+win this war.... But, at any rate, it worked like this:</p>
+
+<p>"Hay lures, or maneuvers, a Slav plane away from its fellows, and
+while you're down below entertaining the others, flies wing to wing
+with it. He touches the spring of his ladder and it shoots out,
+powerfully magnetized, and clamps onto the steel fuselage of the Slav.
+The automatic control keeps Hay's scout steady, and the ladder is so
+highly attractive that the Slav simply can't get away. Hay crosses the
+gulf, taking with him the cord which controls the electro-magnet. He
+forces his way into the Slav, shoots down its pilot, releases the pull
+of the magnet, and&mdash;there you are! Our best pilot in possession of a
+Slav plane, and clad in a Slav officer's uniform! Do you get the idea
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>Lance strove for appropriate words. "Gee!" he spluttered. "It's&mdash;it's
+wonderful! And to think I tried to start a fight with Hay! I wish I'd
+known before. But I suppose," he added, "it was best to let not even
+me in on it, to keep it absolutely secret."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly!"</p>
+
+<p>"And now what's Hay's mission?" Lance asked eagerly.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>olonel Douglas' face became sober. "A damnably dangerous one, and a
+mighty desperate one. As I said, the Torpedo Plan, which Hay is
+striving to carry out, seems to be America's last chance. We're
+holding the United Slavs, but only just. We simply can't break their
+line or make any headway against them; and when they do unleash their
+big push, there's nothing to stop them!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> So we're gambling everything
+on this slim hope.</p>
+
+<p>"American science," he continued, "has perfected a weapon which is
+called the 'flying torpedo.' It's a ghastly thing, too. Damn it, I
+actually feel sorry for the poor devils it bursts on! It's a sort of
+riposte to their disintegrating flame.</p>
+
+<p>"Picture a huge tanklike affair of steel, one hundred feet long.
+Picture a few dozen of them! Picture them crammed to overflowing with
+tons of glyco-scarzite, the most destructive explosive the mind of man
+has yet conceived. An explosive that can't be hurled in a shell and
+can't be dropped in a bomb from a plane. A pound or so of it, man,
+lays waste a square mile of anything! Even our scientists are a bit
+afraid of it. They've been trying to think up a way of unleashing it
+at the Slavs. And these flying torpedoes seem to be the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"The torpedoes are purely mechanical. Therefore, they can soar to any
+height whatsoever. Twenty, thirty, even forty miles. All right. Now,
+picture a dozen or so of these torpedoes soaring over the most
+important Slav bases and headquarters, thirty miles above the earth,
+at night, of course, and absolutely invisible to the most powerful
+search-rays. They fly without the slightest sounds. Get that? Well,
+when this squadron of awful death arrives at the exact point over the
+place to be demolished, the motive force switches off and down they
+crash. Imagine what will happen when they collide with the ground!"
+Douglas, with Lance's tense eyes on him, struck a clenched fist into
+an open palm.</p>
+
+<p>"Tons of glyco-scarzite, Lance! Unleashed, without warning, from miles
+above! Thirty of these torpedoes, each a hundred feet long, dropping
+down on the very heart of the Slav invasion! Killing, blowing to bits,
+rather, every living thing, every fortification, every tree, every
+tank, every gun, every flame thrower, every plane in a radius of
+hundreds of miles!"</p>
+
+<p>"God!" came from Lance's numb lips. "God!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>But</i>"&mdash;and the colonel held up a straight forefinger&mdash;"these
+torpedoes must be guided from the place they raid!"</p>
+
+<p>Into the silence Lance whispered: "And that&mdash;that is Hay's job?"</p>
+
+<p>"That," Douglas confirmed levelly, "is Hay's job&mdash;and yours."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>heir eyes met; held. And then Lance's clean young face smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God, sir," he cried, "that I'm to help strike the blow that'll
+free our country!"</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Douglas answered his smile with a smile. "Lance," he said,
+"it's because Washington has put this job into Hay's and your hands
+that I know&mdash;<i>I know</i>&mdash;it will succeed."</p>
+
+<p>"It will!"</p>
+
+<p>Douglas lowered his voice again. "This is why those flying torpedoes
+must be guided from the Slav's innermost base.</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place, they fly too high for an accompanying plane to
+guide them. In the second, the power that releases them to hurtle
+downwards must come from the enemy base itself, to permit of no
+possible error. This must not fail!"</p>
+
+<p>"But," put in Lance, "how do the torpedoes fly? What motivates them?"</p>
+
+<p>"A closely guarded secret, of course," he was told. "I merely possess
+a slight comprehension of it. I know that it is an adaptation of that
+discovery of Professor Singe, two years ago&mdash;cosmic attraction.
+Eventually, perhaps, it will permit interplanetary travel. This use of
+it is simply the beginning. But it is to America's everlasting glory
+that a scientist of hers developed it.</p>
+
+<p>"You know how a sliver of wood is propelled by the ripples of a pond?
+Vibrations of the water, really. Well, evidently there are somewhat
+similar vibrations in the ether, cosmic force. Each one of these
+flying torpedoes contains a highly expensive, intricate mechanism
+which transforms this in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>visible vibration-power into material
+propulsion. The mechanism is adjusted to propel the torpedo at such an
+altitude in such a direction. We possess no means of setting the
+machines to <i>stop</i> at a certain place and so tumble earthwards. That's
+where you and Hay come in.</p>
+
+<p>"Hay is now, with forged documents, passing himself off as a regular
+Slav pilot. He speaks the tongue. Two nights from now, you, Lance,
+keep a rendezvous with Hay at an isolated ranch in the Lake Tahoe
+country&mdash;the Sola Ranch, where we staged that big fight a few months
+back."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ance nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"In your plane is an instrument which is the kernel of the scheme. It
+arrives here to-morrow. It's a device which shoots an invisible beam
+fifty miles into the air, a negative beam, in sympathy with the
+machinery on the torpedoes. Hay sets this device near the Slav
+headquarters. The torpedo squadron takes off from a few hundred miles
+behind here, flying in the direction of the heart of the Slav forces.
+When they run into the beam, their motive power is nullified, and down
+they fall. Crash! The Slavs are wiped out. Our troops charge forward
+in a grand attack; the Slavs, with no armament, no reinforcing troops,
+no supply of tanks and flame throwers, crumple. The invasion of
+America is put to an end!"</p>
+
+<p>Lance rose. His face was alight, his eyes burning with strong,
+unquenchable fire.</p>
+
+<p>"It's great, sir, great! It can't fail! By God, if it takes every last
+drop of my blood, I'll help Hay put this through!"</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Douglas extended his right hand and Lance's met it in a firm
+shake. In the thick silence they stood thus for some minutes. Then,
+without moving so much as a cheek muscle, the colonel whispered, his
+eyes tense:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>The door! Fling it open! I think someone's been listening!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Lance switched his alarmed gaze to it. His muscles went taut. The next
+moment he had leaped half across the room, jammed back the lock, and
+ripped the door wide.</p>
+
+<p>At the other end of the dim passageway he glimpsed a scurrying figure!</p>
+
+<p>Lance sprang after it with a shout to Douglas. Tearing out his
+automatic, he flung a burst of lead at the figure, but that instant it
+wheeled and sped from sight down another passage. And when Lance got
+there, no one was in sight.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>or awhile he probed around, desperately, but could find no sign of
+anything. The base slept. Sorely troubled, he returned to find the
+colonel just coming back from an equally barren search:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think he heard much," said Douglas grimly. "It must have been
+that damned spy who's been getting information of our movements. I'll
+have the guards redoubled to prevent him from getting anything
+through." He smiled at sight of Lance's anxious face. "No need for too
+much worry, Lance! He couldn't have heard much&mdash;the walls are
+sound-proof and the door fairly tight. Now, you go and rip off some
+sleep! You need it! No more work for you till Wednesday night&mdash;you're
+too important!"</p>
+
+<p>Sleep! Lance only wished he could. But the thrill of what he'd just
+heard was too fresh, too new; the blood pumped surgingly through his
+veins; his brain whirled with the thought of the glorious enterprise
+he and Hay were aiding so vitally.</p>
+
+<p>Then, too, the night was humid and sweaty. For a while Lance lay on
+his cot, other sleeping figures to left and right of him, but his own
+eyes simply would not stay closed. Finally, after perhaps an hour of
+trying to doze off, he arose and, clad only in breeches and
+undershirt, wandered outside again with a cigarette glowing in his
+mouth.</p>
+
+<p>The war might not have been, the night was so silent. Lance strolled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+lazily around the plane hangars, revelling in what little breeze there
+was. He seemed to be the only living thing abroad in the night.</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly, he flung down his cigarette and ground the butt out
+quickly. For he saw he was not the only living thing abroad in the
+night. Sliding rapidly away from the end hangar was a dark form!</p>
+
+<p>Lance crouched instinctively and crept forward. Who was the other
+wanderer? Not a sentry: they paced a regular beat closer to Douglas'
+office. Not another, who, like himself, could not sleep and had sought
+the open. This figure was going somewhere! It had a definite object in
+mind!</p>
+
+<p>Sheltering himself behind the hangars' bulk, Lance advanced as
+stealthily as he could. Coming to the end one, he peered round its
+blunt corner. Fifty yards ahead, crossing a stubbly stretch of open
+ground, the mysterious prowler hurried onward.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he night was dark, the moon troubled by ragged bursts of listless,
+heavy clouds. Lance bent almost double and left the shelter of the
+black hangar. Feeling his way carefully, he followed the other.</p>
+
+<p>Was this the unknown spy? The spy, going to transmit the news he had
+overheard?</p>
+
+<p>Lance muttered a curse. He had no weapon with him; the spy, if he were
+a spy, would certainly be armed. But that didn't matter; it was merely
+unfortunate. He must track the other down, at all cost.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes he crept on in this manner. The other kept hurrying
+forward. Lance noted a clump of brush far ahead; the figure was
+evidently making for this. And sure enough, as if acting directly on
+Lance's thought, the dark form entered the patch of growth&mdash;and did
+not come out on the other side.</p>
+
+<p>Lance broke into a trot, eyes wary and alert for sign of his prey. At
+any second he might be greeted by a salvo of bullets, and every fiber
+of his lean body was taut.</p>
+
+<p>As he approached the clump of brush he dropped to the ground, and came
+finally to it on his belly. From a distance of about ten feet, he rose
+and charged.</p>
+
+<p>Expecting each moment to hear the spit of a revolver, he was more
+alarmed by what actually did greet him.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing. The patch of brush was empty!</p>
+
+<p>"Well I'll be damned!" Lance murmured. "Where did he get to?"</p>
+
+<p>He gazed around, bewildered. The growth of bush was about ten feet
+wide. On either side the flat Nevada plain stretched away&mdash;empty. No
+figure was visible.</p>
+
+<p>Lance was utterly baffled. The fellow had vanished as if by magic.
+Flown away into thin air!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he young captain stood quite still, listening, probing his puzzled
+brain.</p>
+
+<p>Then, like a cat, he dropped to the ground again, and pressed an ear
+to it. For his ears had caught a tiny betraying hum.</p>
+
+<p>A hum! There was a machine of some type near him. He listened
+intently. The hum came from the ground on which he lay. There had to
+be a trap-door.</p>
+
+<p>Lance's fingers scrabbled around, and presently found what they looked
+for.</p>
+
+<p>He seized the ring which enabled one to pull the trap-door back, and
+was just about to pull when he heard, from below, a voice speaking in
+Russian. It was, then, the spy!</p>
+
+<p>Lance grasped the ring anew, and, exerting all his strength, hauled
+the trap-door back.</p>
+
+<p>A narrow passageway was revealed, lit by a lamp. The hum burst with
+doubled force on his ears. He plunged down, fists clenched, and half
+tumbled into a tiny room gouged from the soil.</p>
+
+<p>At one end was a mass of machinery, and a microphone hung suspended
+before it. And speaking into the micro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>phone was the heavy-set form of
+a man in American uniform, his back to Lance. As the latter charged
+down, he rose with an alarmed shout, and wheeled around.</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" breathed Lance.</p>
+
+<p>It was Ranth, Colonel Douglas' orderly!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>anth!</p>
+
+<p>His dark face flushed with fury, he came leaping from his seat. The
+wicked little revolver hung at his belt sprang out, but Lance's right
+fist shot forward, knocked Ranth's hand high and sent the gun
+clattering to the ground. Then, for a moment, they faced each other,
+the hum of the radiophone droning an ominous accompaniment.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" Lance muttered. "So you were the spy!"</p>
+
+<p>Ranth answered him with a choked oath and leaped forward again.</p>
+
+<p>There were no niceties to that combat. It was a matter of life and
+death, and each knew it. Ranth would kill him, Lance knew, if he
+possibly could; and he, he had to kill or capture Ranth. Otherwise the
+news of the Torpedo Plan would go through, Ranth would return to the
+base, and the secret of the hidden radio never be known. Another would
+be put in Lance's place; and when Hay kept his rendezvous at Sola
+Ranch....</p>
+
+<p>He had to win.</p>
+
+<p>No effort was made at defense, for those first few furious minutes. A
+veritable fusillade of hurtling fists stormed through the air. They
+each gave and took equally. Then Ranth's heavy shoulders bunched;
+cunningly he feinted, then, whirling, swung a vicious right hand smash
+to Lance's chin.</p>
+
+<p>Lance reeled, fell, seeing Ranth's hate-contorted visage dance queerly
+in the close air before him. The orderly clutched for his revolver,
+and Lance bounded up as if spring-impelled, nailed the other with two
+lightninglike jabs and unleashed all his strength in an uppercut
+which sprawled Ranth in a limp, quivering heap.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>anting, Lance surveyed him, then turned to get the gun. He felt the
+shock of thudding flesh in his legs, and fell again with Ranth
+scrambling on top of him. Steel-ribbed hands pounced on his throat,
+gouged savagely, while the man above grunted thick curses from his
+slavering mouth. Lance struggled fiercely; saw a curtain of black rush
+down. Desperately he hooked a booted leg up, craned it over Ranth's
+back, tugged. The terrible fingers loosened. Lance shook them off,
+rolled the other over and leaped once more to his feet, right hand
+clenched and ready.</p>
+
+<p>Ranth staggered up. The young man measured him, pivoted, and smashed
+his beefy jaw with a clean swing that had every ounce of Lance's hard
+young body behind it.</p>
+
+<p>The orderly shot back as if struck by a locomotive. He crashed into
+the radiophone, splintered the delicate instruments and slumped, eyes
+glazed, to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>He was out. Dead out.</p>
+
+<p>But how much had he got through on the radiophone before being
+stopped?</p>
+
+<p>Had he told where the rendezvous, was to be? Told the time and place,
+and warned the Slavs to look for Hay?</p>
+
+<p>Lance sighed, and was conscious that his left eye was rapidly closing,
+that a lip was split and his whole body sore. He slung Ranth over his
+shoulders and trudged wearily back to the base.</p>
+
+<p>He told his story to Colonel Douglas' amazed ears. Ranth, come back to
+life, was slapped in handcuffs, and for some time the colonel put him
+through a stern inquisition.</p>
+
+<p>But his lips were sealed. He would not divulge how much he had
+succeeded in passing on to the Slavs.</p>
+
+<p>"A brave man," Douglas observed grimly when Ranth was carried off to
+the brig, "but it's death for him, the same as it would be death for
+Hay were he caught."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't think he had a chance to get much across, sir," Lance said.
+"I was right on him almost as soon as he got there. You won't let this
+cancel our rendezvous?"</p>
+
+<p>Douglas' thin lips smiled narrowly. "No. You'll be taking a greater
+chance, Lance, but we must gamble on how much the Slavs know. You're
+game, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ednesday night came. Thunderstorms muttered to each other on the
+lowering horizons; gusts of fierce, wind-driven rain slanted down on
+the dripping base; occasionally a crooked finger of lightning probed
+the black sky and lit the whole sopping countryside with a searing,
+flashing glare.</p>
+
+<p>The night patrol had taken off. A single plane, wet and gleaming under
+the sobbing heavens, stood on the tarmac, two heavily coated figures
+before it. Presently three more figures, carrying some bulky black
+object carefully between them, emerged from one of the buildings.
+Tenderly they placed this object in the lone plane, which had been
+stripped of radio outfit and gas bomb compartment to provide room.
+Then the two original figures were left alone once more before the
+fighting machine. Far to the rear, the heavy American guns barked in
+their regular nightly bombardment.</p>
+
+<p>"A good night for it," Colonel Douglas, scanning the sky, said, "and
+also a bad one. If only that damned lightning would stop!"</p>
+
+<p>Lance, pulling on thick gloves, did not reply. The colonel consulted
+his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"What time do you make it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly eight," the other answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Right. At eight-six, you leave. At nine, on the dot, you meet Hay at
+Sola Ranch. At nine-ten, the torpedoes take off. At quarter to ten,
+they arrive over their destination&mdash;San Francisco and the surrounding
+territory. And quarter to ten, if things go correctly&mdash;which they
+must!&mdash;is the minute that ends the Slavish invasion of America. At ten
+minutes to ten, five minutes after the torpedoes strike, our troops
+charge forward in general attack. God be with you, Lance! The fate of
+America is resting on your shoulders to-night, remember!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm remembering."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>olonel Douglas looked at the young man's grim, set face, looked at
+his lithe, clean-limbed figure and his steady black eyes which burned
+with a purposeful fire. And the colonel smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll win!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>An orderly sped from his office, saluted, and rapped crisply:</p>
+
+<p>"Order just received from Washington, sir, to proceed."</p>
+
+<p>Lance clasped Douglas' hand, and leaped into the snug, enclosed
+cockpit. The four motors bellowed as the thin-sprayed oil cascaded to
+them. The helicopter props spun around.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to it, kid!" cried Douglas. "Spy or no spy, you're coming out on
+top! And give Hay a last handshake for me!"</p>
+
+<p>And he swung to the salute.</p>
+
+<p>Lance extended his hand. Then he gave his ship the gun, and the tiny,
+streamlined scout teetered, roared, and rose with a scream into the
+dripping darkness high above.</p>
+
+<p>The Torpedo Plan had started.</p>
+
+
+<h4>PART IV</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div>
+<p>ance hung for a moment at one thousand feet. A crack of lightning lit
+the base below for a second, and he perceived the colonel's straight
+figure with hand outstretched. Lance grinned, and gunned to forty
+thousand&mdash;an easy flying height, with his superchargers pumping and
+air-rectifiers normalizing the enclosed pilot's seat.</p>
+
+<p>"But what," he wondered, as he stopped the helicopters, "did he mean
+by 'give a <i>last</i> handshake'?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He was soon to find out.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him, in the fuselage, nestled the weird cluster of machinery
+which was the Singe beacon. It certainly did not look imposing&mdash;a mass
+of spidery tubes mazing round a bulky black box, which was, Lance
+guessed, some new type of generator. Out of the top of the device
+sprouted a funnel-like horn, from which, on the adjustment of the
+beacon's control studs, shot the nullifying ray. Lance could not
+suppress a shiver as he thought of the earth-shaking cataclysm that
+ray would conjure from the infinitely high heavens.</p>
+
+<p>At forty thousand feet he was above the storm clouds, whose pitchy,
+vapor-drenched blackness effectively blanked out all sign of the
+earth. He might have been flying in outer space. Keeping a careful eye
+on his instruments, he set a course for Sola Ranch. He kept his speed
+around three hundred, wishing to meet Hay exactly at nine.</p>
+
+<p>But&mdash;would Hay be there?</p>
+
+<p>How much did the Slavs know? How much had Ranth got through before he
+stopped him?</p>
+
+<p>A frown creased his brow. It was best not to puzzle over that
+question. Best just to go ahead, and keep going.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t about three minutes to nine he set the plane's nose down through
+veils of clammy cloud. This was mountainous country, sparsely
+patrolled by Slav ships. Lance hovered cautiously over the firred
+mountain tops, getting his directions, shooting wary eyes through the
+magnifying mirrors in search of enemy scouts. He saw none. Satisfied,
+he cut the Rahl-Diesels, gunned the helicopter props and dropped
+lightly down on the stubbly field of Sola Ranch.</p>
+
+<p>To left and right loomed the dim outlines of the lonely mountains.
+Before the war, the owner of Sola Ranch had grown apples; this field
+had housed a few horses. It made a perfect meeting place&mdash;secluded,
+misty with the clinging mountain vapors, far apart from the war.</p>
+
+<p>Lance felt like a prowling werewolf there, waiting for its ghostly
+mate.</p>
+
+<p>Rain was still splattering in desultory bursts, but distance muted the
+rumbling salvos' of thunder. His watch told him it was one minute to
+nine.</p>
+
+<p>Now&mdash;what?</p>
+
+<p>Hay, or a swooping squadron of Slav planes?</p>
+
+<p>Lance stepped out of the cockpit into the rain, though holding himself
+tensely ready to leap back again and soar away. He stared around, and
+peered above.</p>
+
+<p>Was that a shadow?&mdash;a nightmare flying bird?&mdash;or a plane?</p>
+
+<p>He grasped a hand-flash, and rapidly signalled his identity. The next
+instant, it seemed, the shadow wavered, then fell earthward with great
+speed.</p>
+
+<p>Out of the gloom and rain it came&mdash;an enemy plane.</p>
+
+<p>It dropped down beside his scout. From its cockpit came a few swift
+flashes of light.</p>
+
+<p>Hay!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ance ran eagerly over to the other plane, and out from its enclosed
+cabin stepped the man he had known as Praed.</p>
+
+<p>Wordlessly, they gripped hands. Hay's thin, straight face wore a
+smile, and he met Lance's eyes keenly. Lance stammered:</p>
+
+<p>"S-sorry, Captain Hay, about&mdash;about the way I treated you at the base.
+You see, I had no idea who you were."</p>
+
+<p>Hay cut short his apologies with a laugh. "Rot! I'd've been the same
+way myself." He glanced rapidly at Lance's plane. "Got it?" he
+questioned. "I'm a bit late; had a hell of a time getting here without
+arousing suspicion. We'd best hurry."</p>
+
+<p>Lance nodded. They hurried to the Goshawk. As they worked, carefully
+lifting out the Singe beacon, Lance, in crisp, short-clipped
+sentences, told his companion of Ranth, the spy.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know how much he got through?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Lance. "No."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hm-m. Well, we'll have to trust to luck."</p>
+
+<p>"You know the working of the beacon?" Lance asked. On the other's nod
+of affirmation he continued: "What's your plan?"</p>
+
+<p>"Light about five miles this side of Frisco itself, just near the main
+Slav military base. Anywhere in that territory would do, though. The
+beacon doesn't go up in a narrow ray; it spreads, diffuses. The
+squadron of torpedoes will cover some fifty or sixty miles of ground,
+I believe. They'll utterly demolish the city, and every damned Slav in
+it." His face, in the darkness, went grim and hard. "And it'll damn
+well pay them back," he rasped, "for the horrible way they massacred
+San Francisco's population...."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he Singe beacon was in his plane. Hay turned to Lance, stretching out
+his hand for a farewell clasp. Then Lance asked the question that had
+been worrying him.</p>
+
+<p>"Colonel Douglas told me to give you a last handshake for him. <i>Last.</i>
+Why did he say that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," Hay said smilingly, "I'm staying by the beacon to make sure
+that nothing goes wrong. I guess that's why he said it, old
+fellow...."</p>
+
+<p>Lance gasped: "You're sacrificing your life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. To save seventy-five million others."</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly they both stared above.</p>
+
+<p>A roar of sound&mdash;of purring motors, of props, mixed with the chatter
+of a dozen machine-guns&mdash;had belched with numbing suddenness from the
+low-hanging clouds.</p>
+
+<p>Enemy planes! A patrol of them!</p>
+
+<p>"God!" jerked Lance. "Ranth's warning got through! Part of it,
+anyway!"</p>
+
+<p>He leaped for his plane, shouting: "I'll hold 'em off! You get away
+<i>quick</i>!" and, through a veritable hail of lead, sprang into the
+cockpit.</p>
+
+<p>Then, a cold pang at his heart, he sprang out again.</p>
+
+<p>A bullet had caught Hay!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>or a moment, the Slav fire ceased, while their planes zoomed up to
+start another death-dealing dive. And in that moment Lance was at
+Hay's side, where he had fallen.</p>
+
+<p>"They&mdash;got me," whispered Hay, a stream of blood welling from his
+gasping mouth. "I'm&mdash;I'm going. C-carry me to&mdash;to your plane. I've
+still a&mdash;a little strength left. You take the beacon. I&mdash;I'll hold
+them&mdash;as&mdash;as long as&mdash;I can. Put through that beacon, boy! <i>Put it
+though!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>His brain a maelstrom, Lance stared at the crumpled figure. It was the
+only way! He heard the motors above come roaring down again;
+desperately he carried the blood-choking Hay to his own plane; propped
+him limply at the controls. Bullets spat through a frenzy of noise.
+Weakly Hay started the Goshawk's Diesels, and weakly, into Lance's
+face, smiled, and beckoned him to leave.</p>
+
+<p>And, as Lance, a grim resolve at his heart, turned, Hay's
+blood-frothed lips formed the words: "Carry on!"</p>
+
+<p>Through the raining lead, seeming to bear a charmed life, Lance leaped
+to Hay's plane, hearing as he did so his own, with a stricken pilot at
+its controls, hurtle upwards.</p>
+
+<p>Carry on! For the life of America!</p>
+
+<p>Carry on!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>en minutes past the hour of nine. A full thousand miles behind the
+lines, on the wide black field of America's major war base, a small
+group of men stood, surveying the awesome weapons assembled there.</p>
+
+<p>Row upon row of huge, dully-gleaming cigar-shaped things stretched
+away into the darkness before them. There were only one or two faint
+lights to give illumination, and the night choked in on them, making
+them terrifying.</p>
+
+<p>They resembled, more than anything else, half-sized dirigibles, being
+rough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>ly about one hundred feet long and perhaps as much as thirty
+feet high. At first sight, they seemed to be numberless; then, as the
+bewildered eye became more sane, one could count them and see that
+there were, in reality, about thirty. Their prows were stubby; in the
+port side of each a tiny trap-door yawned, and standing by every
+trap-door was the overall-clad figure of a mechanic, waiting for the
+signal.</p>
+
+<p>The Commander of the American Air Force looked up from his
+wrist-watch. At his side was a peculiar gnomelike figure, a figure
+with hunched, twisted back and huge, over-heavy head. This was
+Professor Singe, and from that ridiculous head had come the germ which
+had finally expanded into the torpedoes arrayed before him.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes were nervous; his crooked face twitched ceaselessly. "Time?"
+he kept asking. "Time? Is it yet time?" And finally the tall figure of
+the Commanding Officer turned and rapped: "Time!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n aide-de-camp raised a hand. As if working by some mechanical
+device, the figure which stood by each torpedo climbed through the
+trap-doors, jumped out a second later, and came running to the head of
+the field.</p>
+
+<p>"About thirty seconds," muttered Singe nervously, eyes alight. "Thirty
+seconds for their motors to catch the stream. Thirty&mdash;ah!"</p>
+
+<p>For the squadron of man-made horrors had stirred.</p>
+
+<p>"God pity San Francisco!" murmured the Commanding Officer, and stepped
+back involuntarily as the whole fleet lifted their glyco-scarzite
+crammed bellies from the field and, as if moved by some magical,
+unseen, unheard force, shot up into the darkness with ever gathering
+speed.</p>
+
+<p>"God pity it, indeed!" chuckled Singe exultantly. "It'll need it!"</p>
+
+<p>The C. O. sighed and shook his head slowly. "War!" he mused. "And yet,
+it's our only chance." For a moment he paused, seemingly unconscious
+of the macabre little form next to him, still gazing aloft at the now
+invisible torpedoes, and then muttered:</p>
+
+<p>"And God pity Basil Hay, who's giving his life to America&mdash;a glorious,
+unselfish hero. God pity Basil Hay!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>merican flyers never knew of Basil Hay's last fight. Had they, it
+would have become legendary.</p>
+
+<p>For Hay fought a grim battle against two foes. One, he could face and
+conquer, as he had conquered often before. But the other lurked next
+to his dauntless heart, and it Hay could not subdue.</p>
+
+<p>It was death.</p>
+
+<p>Truly, Hay's fight there in the wet clouds above Sola Ranch was an
+inspired one. He fought almost by instinct alone, instinct twenty
+years of piloting had planted deep in his veins. He fought for
+Lance&mdash;for America. His eyes, glazing rapidly, could not distinguish
+the roaring phantoms that laced around his lone plane, but uncannily
+his bursts of fire went home again and again, while theirs ripped
+aimlessly over the Goshawk's hell-driven snout.</p>
+
+<p>Of course it could not last. Gallant spirit alone kept Basil Hay taut
+at his controls. Spirit alone thrust back the ever-increasing surge of
+black oblivion that pounded at his heart and brain. Spirit alone sent
+the pitifully outnumbered plane corkscrewing in peerless maneuverings
+that baffled the on-passing Slavs and thrust four of them to the
+sodden ground in flame. Spirit that would not surrender&mdash;but had to.</p>
+
+<p>They could never have conquered Basil Hay in a plane. An ambushing
+bullet that caught him off guard did that. And finally Hay fell.</p>
+
+<p>But he had kept them for ten full minutes. Ten minutes&mdash;each one a
+lasting, mute testimony to his unquenchable, unyielding spirit.</p>
+
+<p>He flung a last salvo from his hot machine-guns, then, heart numbing,
+jerked back the control-stick and careened high. He slumped down. The
+plane paused, wallowed crazily for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> moment, and then roared
+earthward, "Carry on!" formed faintly on its dead pilot's bloody lips.</p>
+
+<p>Basil Hay had fought his last fight.</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes....</p>
+
+<p>Lance hadn't expected that long. He'd thought Hay would die in a few
+seconds. The man was mortally wounded; could not last.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, minutes or seconds, he was entrusted with the Singe
+beacon, and it was his job and his will to put it through.</p>
+
+<p>He'd climbed the Slav plane up to its ceiling, driven it till it
+simply refused to go higher, and then roared on towards San Francisco.
+Each second he expected to see others come hurtling after him. When
+they did not, he knew how really great Hay's will was. It was an
+inspiring example.</p>
+
+<p>But his brain was tortured by a multitude of conflicting doubts. A
+patrol of Slav scouts had ambushed them. Just how much did the Slavs
+know, then, about the torpedoes?</p>
+
+<p>He, Lance, had to guide the Singe beacon. Quickly he reviewed what Hay
+had told him.</p>
+
+<p>"Light about five miles this side of Frisco. Anywhere in that
+territory would do, though. The beacon doesn't go up in a narrow ray;
+it spreads, diffuses."</p>
+
+<p><i>Spreads, diffuses.</i></p>
+
+<p>Hay had been clad in Slav uniform, and thus could, with a certain
+measure of safety, put the beacon machinery on the ground itself. But
+Lance was in American uniform; if he landed, he ran great risk of
+being noticed and attacked at once.</p>
+
+<p>Lance saw immediately that there was only one way out. It was sure
+death, but Hay had expected death, and so must he.</p>
+
+<p>His lips set in stern resolve. It meant good-by&mdash;farewell to the girl
+he'd left behind, farewell to life, farewell to everything&mdash;but not
+for a second did he debate the course he would take.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ance glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty. The torpedoes were even now
+on their way, hurtling along miles above the earth. In fifteen minutes
+they would be over San Francisco. In fifteen minutes the Singe beacon
+had to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>He was not familiar with the Slav plane's instruments, but he judged
+he'd traveled some hundred and twenty-five miles; was nearing the
+outskirts of San Francisco. The air below would be thick, probably,
+with enemy scouts, but his appearance should pass unchallenged as long
+as they didn't glimpse his betraying uniform.</p>
+
+<p>He set the plane's nose down in a long slanting dive.</p>
+
+<p>Whipping through the clouds, the guarding search-rays of San Francisco
+were soon visible. Lance saw a few patrols of enemy scouts; he clung
+to the clouds, decreased his speed, and began circling over the heart
+of the metropolis itself.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty to ten.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally a Slav plane flashed by him. Thank God, they didn't
+challenge! Lance went still lower. Finally, at a thousand feet, he set
+the helicopter props in motion and hung in mid-air&mdash;directly above the
+very center of the city.</p>
+
+<p>Sixteen minutes to ten.</p>
+
+<p>Now!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n the American front-line trenches, massed troops crouched
+expectantly. Clustered on every air base were flights of planes, each
+one crammed with bombs. Far behind, the Yank gun-crews edged nervously
+up to their mighty charges, and fingered anxiously the stubby gas
+shells which soon would be flung through the dripping night.</p>
+
+<p>And at Base No. 5 a very uneasy Colonel Douglas paced back and forth
+in his office, muttering: "No news from Lance! No news from Lance!
+God! He can't have failed! But why doesn't he show up?"</p>
+
+<p>He had not failed.</p>
+
+<p>Hovering in the plane over San<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> Francisco Lance squirmed round in his
+seat, reached back into the fuselage, and pressed rapidly the studs on
+the Singe beacon. A high whining noise pierced instantly through the
+plane. And up stabbed the beacon, invisible, deadly&mdash;up, up, up to a
+thin realm miles above, where it flashed into an awesome squadron of
+terrible shells of steel!</p>
+
+<p>Shells that, a second later, wavered, staggered, and plunged
+earthward!</p>
+
+<p>And Lance tensed in his seat. From above, he caught a tiny whistling
+noise&mdash;a whistling that hurtled into a terrific shriek&mdash;that roared
+ever closer.</p>
+
+<p>"Carry on!" he muttered. "Carry on!"</p>
+
+<p>The words froze on his lips, for the world was suddenly consumed, it
+seemed, by flame and splitting, bellowing thunder.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he American guns spoke.</p>
+
+<p>From every aerodrome long flights of scouts and bombers and transport
+planes roared upward.</p>
+
+<p>In the front trenches the troops, still somewhat dazed by the
+earth-shaking explosion that had just tumbled from the far horizon&mdash;a
+horizon still lit by leaping tongues of awful flame&mdash;poured over the
+top, gas-masks on, repeaters and portable machine-guns at the ready,
+with a fierce cry on their lips.</p>
+
+<p>Before that avenging attack the Slavs, their very spine broken,
+bewildered and confused, already turning in panic, could not stand.</p>
+
+<p>America swept to the Pacific, and left death in her wake. And when she
+came to San Francisco, not even the sternest fighting men, still hot
+from battle, could repress a shudder, so awful was the devastation.</p>
+
+<p>The Slav invasion was over!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n the rebuilt city of San Francisco there is a statue that stands
+proudly before the magnificent, gleaming city hall.</p>
+
+<p>It represents two slim, straight-standing figures, clad in the uniform
+of the American Air Force. Their outstretched arms support a tiny
+one-seater Goshawk fighting plane.</p>
+
+<p>Below, as you know, there is a plaque. Men touch their hats as they
+walk by it; flowers are always fresh at its base. On the plaque are
+the words:</p>
+
+<h4>
+  To The Everlasting<br />
+  Memory Of<br />
+  <br />
+  Captain Basil Hay, A.A.F.<br />
+  Captain Derek Lance, A.A.F.<br />
+  <br />
+  Who, In The War Of 1938, Gave<br />
+  Their Lives In Destroying And<br />
+  Devastating San Francisco<br />
+  That San Francisco And America<br />
+  Might Live
+</h4>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="600" height="203" alt="Advertisement."  />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="600" height="459" alt="Bowman hooked it on the hawser arm above."  />
+<span class="caption">Bowman hooked it on the hawser arm above.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="The_Tentacles_From_Below" id="The_Tentacles_From_Below"></a>The Tentacles From Below</h2>
+
+<h4>A COMPLETE NOVELETTE</h4>
+<h3><i>By Anthony Gilmore</i></h3>
+<h4>CHAPTER I</h4>
+<h4>"<i>Machine-Fish</i>"</h4>
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_f1.jpg" alt="F" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+<p>ull stop. Rest ready."</p>
+
+<p>These words glowed in vivid red against the black background of the
+<i>NX-1's</i> control order-board. A wheel was spun over, a lever pulled
+back, and in the hull of the submarine descended the peculiar silence
+found only in mile-deep waters. Men rested at their posts, eyes alert.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Down to tremendous ocean depths goes Commander Keith Wells
+in his blind duel with the marauding "machine-fish."</div>
+
+<p>Above, in the control room, Hemingway Bowman, youthful first officer,
+glanced at the teleview screen and swore softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Keith," he said, "between you and me, I'll be damned glad when this
+monotonous job's over. I joined the Navy to see the world, but this
+charting job's giving me entirely too many close-ups of the deadest
+parts of it!"</p>
+
+<p>Commander Keith Wells. U. S. N., grinned broadly. "Well," he remarked,
+"in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> a few minutes we can call it a day&mdash;or night, rather&mdash;and then
+it's back to the <i>Falcon</i> while the day shift 'sees the world.'" He
+turned again to his dials as Hemmy Bowman, with a sigh, resumed work.</p>
+
+<p>"Depth, six thousand feet. Visibility poor. Bottom eight thousand," he
+said into the phone hung before his lips, and fifty feet aft, in a
+small cubby, a blue-clad figure monotonously repeated the observations
+and noted them down in an official geographical survey report.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>uch had been their routine for two tiring weeks, all part of the
+<i>NX-l's</i> present work of re-charting the Newfoundland banks.</p>
+
+<p>As early as 1929 slight cataclysms had begun to tear up the sea-floor
+of this region, and of late&mdash;1935&mdash;seismographs and cable companies
+had reported titanic upheavals and sinkings of the ocean bed, changing
+hundreds of miles of underwater territory. Finally Washington decided
+to chart the alterations this series of sub-sea earthquakes had
+wrought.</p>
+
+<p>And for this job the <i>NX-1</i> was detailed. A super-submarine fresh from
+the yards, small, but modern to the last degree, she contained such
+exclusive features as a sheathing of the tough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> new glycosteel,
+automatic air rectifiers, a location chart for showing positions of
+nearby submarines, the newly developed Edsel electric motors, and
+automatic teleview screen. When below surface she was a sealed tube of
+metal one hundred feet long, and possessed of an enormous cruising
+radius. From the flower of the Navy some thirty men were picked, and
+in company with the mother-ship <i>Falcon</i> she put out to combine an
+exhaustive trial trip with the practical charting of the newly changed
+ocean floor.</p>
+
+<p>Now this work was almost over. Keith Wells told himself that he, like
+Bowman, would be glad to set foot on land again. This surveying was
+important, of course, but too dry for him&mdash;no action. He smiled at the
+lines of boredom on Hemmy's brow as the younger man stared gloomily
+into the teleview screen.</p>
+
+<p>And then the smile left his lips. The radio operator, in a cubby
+adjoining the control room, had spoken into the communication tube:</p>
+
+<p>"Urgent call for you, sir! From Captain Knapp!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ells reached out and clipped a pair of extension phones over his
+ears. The deep voice of Robert Knapp, captain of the mother-ship
+<i>Falcon</i>, came ringing in. It was strained with an excitement unusual
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Wells? Knapp speaking. Something damned funny's just happened near
+here. You know the fishing fleet that was near us yesterday morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the whole thing's gone down! Destroyed, absolutely! The sea's
+been like glass, the weather perfect&mdash;yet from the wreckage, what
+there is of it, you'd think a typhoon had struck! I can't begin to
+explain it. No survivors, either, so far, though we're hunting for
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"You say the boats are completely destroyed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Smashed like driftwood. I tell you it's preposterous&mdash;and yet it's
+the fact. I think you'd better return at once, old man; you're only
+half an hour off. And come on the surface; it's getting light now, and
+you might pick up something. God knows what this means, Keith, but
+it's up to us to find out. It's&mdash;it's got me...."</p>
+
+<p>His tones were oddly disturbed&mdash;almost scared&mdash;and this from a man who
+didn't know what fear was.</p>
+
+<p>"But Bob," Keith asked, "how did you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stand by a minute! The lookout reports survivors!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ells turned to meet Bowman's inquisitive face. He quickly repeated
+the gist of Knapp's weird story. "We saw them at dusk, last
+evening&mdash;remember? And now they're gone, destroyed. What can have done
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes the two surprised men speculated on the strange
+occurrence. Then Knapp's voice again rang in the headphones.</p>
+
+<p>"Wells? My God, man, this is getting downright fantastic! We've just
+taken two survivors on board; one's barely alive and the other crazy.
+I can't get an intelligible thing from him; he keeps shrieking about
+writhing arms and awful eyes&mdash;and monsters he calls 'machine-fish'!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're sure he's insane?"</p>
+
+<p>Robert Knapp's voice hesitated queerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's shrieking about 'machine-fish'&mdash;fish with machines over
+them!... I&mdash;I'm going to broadcast the whole story to the land
+stations. 'Machine-fish'! I don't know.... I don't know.... You'd
+better hurry back, Wells!"</p>
+
+<p>He rang off.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_k.jpg" alt="K" width="50" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>eith slipped off the headphones and told Bowman what he had learned.
+Hardy, staunchly built craft, those fishing boats were; born in the
+teeth of gales. What horror could have ripped them&mdash;all of them&mdash;to
+drift<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>wood, with the weather perfect? And a half-mad survivor, raving
+about "machine-fish"!</p>
+
+<p>"Such things are preposterous," Bowman commented scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;the fleet's gone, Hemmy," Keith replied. "Anyway, we'll speed
+back, and see what it's all about."</p>
+
+<p>He punched swift commands on the control studs. "Empty Tanks, Zoom to
+Surface, Full Speed," the crimson words glared down below, and the
+<i>NX-1</i> at once shoved her snout up, trembling as her great electric
+motors began their pulsing whine. The delicate fingers of the massed
+dials before Keith danced exultantly. The depth-levels tolled out:</p>
+
+<p>"Seven thousand ... six thousand ... five thousand&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Keith! Look there!"</p>
+
+<p>Hemmy Bowman was pointing with amazement at the location chart, a
+black mesh screen that showed the position of other submarines within
+a radius of two miles. In one corner, a spot of vivid red was shining.</p>
+
+<p>"But it can't be a submarine!" Wells objected. "Our reports would have
+mentioned it!"</p>
+
+<p>The two officers stared at each other.</p>
+
+<p>"'Machine-fish!'" Bowman whispered softly. "If there were machines,
+the metal would register on the chart."</p>
+
+<p>"It must be them!" the commander roared, coming out of his daze. "And,
+by God, we're going after them!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>apidly he brought the <i>NX-1</i> out of her zoom to the surface, and left
+her at four thousand feet, in perfect trim, while he read the
+instruments closely.</p>
+
+<p>A green spot in the center of the location chart denoted the <i>NX-1's</i>
+exact position. A distance of perhaps forty inches separated it from
+the red light on the meshed screen&mdash;which represented, roughly, a mile
+and a half. Below the chart was a thick dial, over which a black hand,
+indicating the mysterious submersible's approximate depth, was slowly
+moving.</p>
+
+<p>"He's sinking&mdash;whatever he is," Keith muttered to Hemmy. "Hey, Sparks!
+Get me Captain Knapp."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later the connection was put through.</p>
+
+<p>"Bob? This is Wells again. Bob, our location chart shows the presence
+of some strange undersea metallic body. It can't be a submarine, for
+my maritime reports would show its presence. We think it has some
+connection with the 'machine-fish' that survivor raved about. At any
+rate, I'm going after it. The world has a right to know what destroyed
+that fishing fleet, and since the <i>NX-1</i> is right on the spot it's my
+duty to track it down. Re-broadcast this news to land stations, will
+you? I'll keep in touch with you."</p>
+
+<p>Knapp's voice came soberly back. "I guess you're right, Keith; it's up
+to you.... So long, old man. Good luck!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n Wells' veins throbbed the lust for action. With control studs at
+hand, location chart and teleview screen before his eyes and fifteen
+men waiting below for his commands, he had no fear of any monster the
+underseas might spew up. He glanced swiftly at the location chart and
+depth indicator again.</p>
+
+<p>The mysterious red spot was slowly coming across the <i>NX-1's</i> bows at
+a distance of about one mile. Keith punched a stud, and, as his craft
+filled her tank and slipped down further into deep water, he spoke to
+Hemmy Bowman.</p>
+
+<p>"Take control for a minute. Keep on all speed, and follow 'em like a
+bloodhound. I'm going below."</p>
+
+<p>He strode down the connecting ramp to the lower deck, where he found
+fifteen men standing vigilantly at posts. At once Keith plunged into a
+full explanation of what he had learned up in the control room. He
+concluded:</p>
+
+<p>"A great moral burden rests on us&mdash;every one of us&mdash;as we will soon
+come face to face with a possible world menace. Anything may happen. A
+state of war exists on this submarine. You will be prepared for any
+wartime eventuality!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sobered faces greeted this announcement, and perceptibly the men
+straightened and held themselves more alertly. Wells at once returned
+to the control room. A glance at the location chart and its two tiny
+lights told him that the intervening distance had been decreased to
+about half a mile.</p>
+
+<p>The depth dial showed them both to be two miles below, and steadily
+diving lower. Charts showed the sea-floor to be three miles deep in
+this position, and that meant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Look there!" exclaimed the first officer suddenly. "It's changing
+course!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he crimson stud had suddenly shifted its course, and now was fleeing
+directly before them. For a moment the distance between the green and
+red lights remained constant&mdash;and then Keith Wells stared
+unbelievingly at the chart, wiped a hand across his eyes and stared
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why, the devils are as fast as we!" he exclaimed in amazement.
+"I think they're even gaining on us!"</p>
+
+<p>"And there's no other submarine in the world that can do more than
+thirty under water!" Hemmy Bowman added. "We're hitting a full
+forty-one!"</p>
+
+<p>A call came through the communication tube from Sparks. "Report from
+Consolidated Radio News-Broadcasters, sir, aimed especially at us."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Keith, motioning Hemmy to listen in. Sparks read it.</p>
+
+<p>"'A week ago Atlantic City reported that seven men were snatched off
+fishing boat by unidentified tentacled monsters. Testimony of
+witnesses was discredited, but was later corroborated by the almost
+identical testimony of other witnesses at Brighton Beach, England, who
+saw man and woman taken by mysterious monsters whilst bathing.'
+Perhaps these same creatures destroyed the Newfoundland fishing
+fleet." His level voice ceased.</p>
+
+<p>"Tentacled monsters ... 'machine-fish,'" Wells murmured slowly.
+"'Machine-fish.'..."</p>
+
+<p>Their eyes met, the same wonder in each. "Well," Keith rapped at
+last, "we're seeing this through!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e turned again to the location chart. The green spot as always was in
+the center, and at a constant distance was the red, showing that the
+<i>NX-1</i> was hot on the other's trail. The depth dials indicated that
+both were diving deeper every moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Where in hell's it going?" the commander rasped. "We'll be on the
+floor in a few minutes!"</p>
+
+<p>Here the teleview showed the world to be one of fantasy, one to which
+the sun did not exist. It was not an utter, pitchy blackness that
+pervaded the water, but rather a peculiar, dark blueness. No fish
+schools, Keith noted, scurried from them. They had already left these
+waters; aware, perhaps, of the passing Terror....</p>
+
+<p>They plunged lower yet. Wells was conscious of Hemmy Bowman's quick,
+uneven breathing. Conscious of the tautness of his own nerves, strung
+like quivering violin strings. Conscious of the terrific walls of
+water pressing in on them. And conscious of the men below, their lives
+bound implicitly in his will and brain....</p>
+
+<p>A thought came to him, and quickly he reached into a rack for the
+chart of the local sea-floor. His brow creased with puzzlement as he
+studied it.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's more mystery, Hemmy," he muttered. "Look&mdash;there's an
+underwater cliff about half a mile dead ahead. It rises to within four
+thousand feet of the surface. And that thing out there is charging
+straight into its base!"</p>
+
+<p>"They must be aware of it," jerked the other. "See?&mdash;they've stopped!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t was true. The gulf between the two colored spots was rapidly being
+swallowed up. At a pulsing forty-one knots the <i>NX-1</i> was closing in
+on the motionless mystery craft.</p>
+
+<p>"They're sinking to the floor itself," observed Wells. "Perhaps
+waiting to attack."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The invisible beams from their ultra-violet light-beacons streamed
+through the silent gloom outside, yet still the teleview screen was
+empty. Keith punched a stud, and the <i>NX-1's</i> whining motors dulled to
+a scarcely audible purr.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the thing?" muttered Hemmy Bowman. "God, Keith, what <i>is</i>
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>For answer, the commander dropped them the last five hundred feet. The
+sea-floor rose like a gray ghost. More control studs were pushed; the
+order-board below read: "All Power Off, Rest in Trim." The location
+chart told a tale that wrung a gasp from Bowman's throat. The red and
+green lights were practically touching....</p>
+
+<p>The hands of Petty Officer Brown, the helmsman, were quivering on the
+helm. Wells' fists kept tensing and relaxing as he peered for a sight
+of the enemy in the teleview. Nothing showed but the moving fingers of
+spectral kelp. Then both he and Bowman cried out as one:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>There!</i>"</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER II</h4>
+<h4><i>The Silent Ray</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;strange shape had suddenly materialized on the screen&mdash;an immense,
+oval-shaped thing of dull metal, with great curving cuts of glass-like
+substance in its blunt bow, like staring eyes; a lifeless, staring
+thing, stretching far into the curtain of gloom behind. How long it
+was, Keith could not tell; at first his numb brain refused to grasp it
+and reduce it to definite, sane standards of size and length. The cold
+weeds of the sea-floor kelp beds swayed eerily over and around it.
+From its bow, he saw, peculiar knobs jutted, the function of which he
+guessed with dread.</p>
+
+<p>Was it waiting with a purpose? Was it waiting&mdash;and inviting attack?</p>
+
+<p>A frightened whisper from Hemmy Bowman broke the hush:</p>
+
+<p>"Keith, the thing has ports, but shows no lights! What kind of
+creatures can they be?"</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, the three men in the control room felt the unmistakable,
+jarring tingle of an electric shock. And while their nerves still
+jumped, it came again; and again. They were conscious of a slight
+feeling of drowsiness.</p>
+
+<p>Keith gaped at Bowman and Brown, and then a flash on the teleview
+screen drew his eyes. There, against the blackness of its otherwise
+inanimate hulk, one of the jutting knobs on the bow of the mysterious
+submarine was glowing and pulsing with orange life! With it came the
+tingling shock again. It flicked off as they watched, then returned
+and went once more.</p>
+
+<p>"They're attacking, but thank God the shock was harmless!" Wells said
+grimly. "All right; they've asked for it: I'm going to see how they
+like the taste of a torpedo!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he two submarines were resting on the ocean floor with perhaps two
+hundred feet between them. The <i>NX-1's</i> bow tubes were not exactly in
+line to score a direct hit; she would have to be maneuvered slightly
+to port. The range was short; the explosion from the torpedoes would
+be titanic.</p>
+
+<p>Keith punched the control studs, ordering the men below to assume
+firing stations. Then, while waiting for the <i>NX-1</i> to shift, he
+studied the teleview screen to sight the range exactly. The black dot
+which represented the enemy craft was not directly on the crossed
+hair-lines of the dial-like range-finder, but shifting the <i>NX-1</i> a
+few feet would bring it to the perfect firing point.</p>
+
+<p>But the <i>NX-1</i> did not budge.</p>
+
+<p>Surprised, her commander swung and looked at Bowman. "What the devil?"
+he cried. "Did that shock&mdash;?" He left the dread thought unfinished and
+leaped to the speaking tubes.</p>
+
+<p>"Craig! Jones! Wetherby!" he yelled. "Men! Don't you hear me? Aren't
+you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off, wordless, waiting for an answer that did not come, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
+sprang to the connecting ramp and ran to the deck below.</p>
+
+<p>The scene he found halted him abruptly in his tracks. Every member of
+the crew was sprawled on the deck, in grotesque, limp postures. They
+had been standing rigidly at posts, he saw, when the thing, whatever
+it was, had struck. Without a sound, without a single cry of alarm,
+the <i>NX-1's</i> crew had been laid low!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he commander slowly advanced to the deck and stared more closely at
+the upturned faces around him. He saw that every man's eyes were open.</p>
+
+<p>Bending over one still form, he pressed his hand on the heart. It was
+beating! The man was alive! Amazed, he moved to another and another:
+they were all breathing, slowly and regularly&mdash;were all alive! A
+curious look in their eyes staggered him for a moment. He could swear
+that they recognized him, knew he was staring at them&mdash;for every
+single pair was alight with intelligence, and Keith fancied he saw
+gleams of recognition.</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been a paralyzing ray!" he gasped. "A thing our
+scientists've been trying to develop for years.... And that monster
+outside knows the secret...." He lifted an arm of the inert figure at
+his feet; when he released the grip, it flopped limply back to the
+deck again.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Keith! Come back, quick!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Startled, the commander turned to find Hemingway Bowman at the top of
+the connecting ramp, his face distorted with alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake, come back quick!" he yelled again. "Down there the
+ray might get you!"</p>
+
+<p>With the words, Wells leaped to the ramp and raced to the control
+room. He had no sooner made it than he felt again the queer tingle of
+the electric charge. He found himself trembling. Bowman's face was
+white. His words came stuttering.</p>
+
+<p>"One second later and they'd have got you.... They got Sparks in his
+cubby.... You see, the ray doesn't affect us in the control room
+because&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Because the Gibson insulation that protects the instruments keeps it
+out!" Keith finished grimly. "I see!"</p>
+
+<p>Just then a slight jar ran through the submarine. Coincident with it
+came a cry from Brown, the helmsman. His arm was pointed at the
+teleview.</p>
+
+<p>There they saw the enemy's mighty dirigible of metal was now within
+thirty feet of the <i>NX-1.</i> It had crept up silently, without warning.
+And, spanning the short gulf between them, an arm of webbed metal
+craned from the other's huge bow, hooking tightly into the American
+submarine's forward hawser holes!</p>
+
+<p>As they took this in, the enemy ship moved away and the arm of metal
+tightened. The <i>NX-1</i> shuddered. And, at first slowly, but with ever
+increasing speed, she got under way and slid after her captor. They
+were being towed away. Kidnaped! Men, submarine and all!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_k.jpg" alt="K" width="50" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>eith Wells mopped sweat from a hot brow and rapidly reviewed his
+weapons. He was sorely restricted. Through an emergency system the
+<i>NX-1</i> could be propelled and maneuvered from her control room; but
+the torpedo tubes needed local attendance.</p>
+
+<p>"Hemmy, reverse engines," he jerked, himself spinning over a small
+wheel. "Let's see if we can out-pull the devil!"</p>
+
+<p>At once they felt the shock of the paralyzing ray, and then the
+surging whine of the Edsel electrics pulsed up and in the teleview
+screen they watched the grim struggle of ship against ship.</p>
+
+<p>Imperceptibly, almost, as her screws cut in and churned, the forward
+progress of the <i>NX-1</i> was slowing, the speed of the other being cut
+down, until finally they but barely forged ahead. Slowly, ever so
+slowly they were out-pulled; inch by inch they were dragged ahead.
+Their motors could not hold even.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She's more powerful than we!" Wells' bitter voice spoke. "Damn!" He
+thought desperately, while Bowman and Brown stared at the fantastic
+tale the teleview spelled out.</p>
+
+<p>Again the paralyzing shock tingled, an intangible jailer that bound
+them, more surely than steel bars, to the control room. To dare that
+streaming barrage meant instant impotence, and perhaps, later,
+death....</p>
+
+<p>"Our two bow torpedoes," Keith mused slowly. "We're a bit close, but
+it's our only chance. The ray comes at intervals of about a minute;
+the torps are ready for firing. If one of us could dash forward and
+discharge 'em.... Brown, that's you!"</p>
+
+<p>The petty officer met his commander's gaze levelly. He smiled. "Yes,
+sir, I'm ready!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Good! It'll have to be quick work, though; I'll try and keep the sub
+pointed straight. Wait for the ray, then run like hell!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he first officer took over the helm and Brown stepped to the forward
+ladder, waiting for the periodic ray to be discharged.</p>
+
+<p>The odd tingle came and vanished. "Now!" Wells roared, and Brown
+leaped down the thin steel rungs.</p>
+
+<p>He staggered at the bottom from the force of his impact, then
+straightened and raced madly forward. Through the drone of the motors
+the two officers could hear the staccato beat of his feet.</p>
+
+<p>But their eyes were glued to the teleview. Through clutching beds of
+seaweed the enemy submarine was ploughing. Her great, smooth bow lay
+straight ahead, metal hawser arm spanning the thirty feet between
+them. In another second, Keith thought grimly, two dynamite packed
+tubes of sudden death would thunderbolt into that hull, and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Brown pulled the lever.</p>
+
+<p>The tubes spat out compressed air; a scream ran through the submarine;
+and the two steel fish leaped from their sheaths, their tiny props
+roaring. Over the narrow gulf they shot; the range was short, their
+target dead ahead&mdash;and yet by bare inches they missed!</p>
+
+<p>No answering roar bellowed back. Keith had watched their course; had
+seen them flash by the enemy's bow, flicking it with their rudders,
+but nothing more. "Why?" he cried. And, as Bowman moved his hands in a
+hopeless gesture, he saw in the teleview the reason.</p>
+
+<p>It was a jagged pinnacle of rock, which, just before Brown had fired,
+had been straight ahead. The towing monster had seen it and veered
+sharply to avoid crashing. The barest change of course, yet sufficient
+to avoid the torpedoes....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ells and Bowman were cursing savagely when the sound of Brown, racing
+desperately aft, jerked the commander to the ladder. He saw the petty
+officer at its foot. "Hurry!" Wells shouted. "The ray!"</p>
+
+<p>Brown grasped the steel rungs and scrambled upward, but he was too
+late. The fatal charge tingled. A peculiar, surprised expression
+washed over his face; his hands loosened their grip. For a second his
+eyes looked questioningly at his commander; a faint sigh escaped him;
+and then his arms flung out, his body relaxed, and he slumped like a
+slab of meat to the deck below....</p>
+
+<p>Keith Wells saw red. Blind to everything, he was just about to charge
+down the ladder to himself re-load the forward tubes when the grip of
+Hemmy Bowman's hand stayed him. The thing Hemmy was staring at in the
+teleview screen sobered him completely.</p>
+
+<p>The wall of rock to which the enemy submarine had first been charging
+had become visible, soaring vastly from the gloom of the sea-floor.
+And the monster was towing them straight into a dark, jagged cleft at
+its base.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a cavern!" Keith breathed. "A split in the rock&mdash;the lair of
+that devil. And we're being dragged into it!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER III</h4>
+<h4><i>Sacrifice</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+<p>t that moment Keith Wells knew fear. Each second they were being
+hauled closer to the monster's dim lair. It lay there, dark,
+mysterious, fingered by gently swaying, clammy kelp. A hushed solitude
+seemed to reign over it, aweing all undersea life from the
+vicinity.... Wells turned his head to meet Bowman's eyes, and read in
+them a silent question.</p>
+
+<p>What now?</p>
+
+<p>He groaned in the agony of his mind. In a few minutes, all would be
+over. Once the <i>NX-1</i> was dragged into that dark cavern there'd be no
+chance of escaping to warn the world above, of saving the submarine.
+What now? The question brought beads of sweat to his tormented brow.
+He, Keith Wells, standing impotently by while his ship, the pride of
+the service, was hauled inch by inch to some strange doom!</p>
+
+<p>Racked by these thoughts, he murmured tortured, jerky phrases,
+unconscious he was giving voice to the things that flogged his brain.</p>
+
+<p>"What can I do? I've got to save my ship&mdash;I've got to get back to
+break the news&mdash;I've got to tell the world! But how? How&mdash;" His
+expression changed suddenly. "That's it! That hawser arm between us
+must be broken!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>First Officer Hemingway Bowman's clear voice broke in on the older
+man's thoughts with that one crisp word. Keith swung to find the
+other's eyes fixed levelly on his.</p>
+
+<p>"You're right, Keith. The hawser arm must be broken; with a depth
+charge, of course. It's the only way.</p>
+
+<p>"To attach a depth charge," he continued evenly, "a man must leave the
+ship. You can't, Keith. It will be me."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he commander did not speak. "I'll put on a sea-suit," Hemmy went on
+quickly, eyes lighting. "You tip the submarine and I'll slide out the
+conning tower exit port on the lee side, so they can't see me, and
+worm forward through the kelp. We're almost holding them even; that'll
+be easy. I'll be protected from the paralyzing shock until the last
+second, and it may not get me outside; that'll have to be chanced. The
+hawser arm's only some ten feet above the sea-floor; I can reach it
+with a hook on the charge." He paused.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll attach it; and when it bursts I'll try to get back and grab that
+ring on the midships exit port, and you can let me in when we get to
+the surface. But if I take too long, Keith&mdash;if I miss&mdash;you beat it
+without me. You understand? Beat it!"</p>
+
+<p>He gazed straight at his friend. "Understand, Keith?"</p>
+
+<p>Commander Keith Wells bowed his head in acquiescence. He was afraid
+that if he met Hemmy Bowman's steady eyes he'd make a fool of
+himself....</p>
+
+<p>Hemmy glanced at the screen once more, shivering as he saw how near
+the black cavern was. Then he moved rapidly, playing the cards
+carefully for his gamble with death. He had to: the trumps were in the
+other hand.</p>
+
+<p>From the locker where their sea-suits were stowed he grabbed his own,
+and with quick fingers ripped the slides and fitted it on. A sheath of
+yellow Lestofabrik, its weighted feet and gleaming casque transformed
+his slim figure into a giant such as might stalk through a nightmare.
+Built cunningly into the helmet was a tiny radio transmitter and
+receiver, with a range of a quarter-mile; hugging to the shoulders,
+inside nestled the air-making mechanism, its tiny generators already
+in motion. Around the helmet was fastened a small removable
+undersea-light. The wrists of the suit were very flexible, permitting
+the freest motion.</p>
+
+<p>Once in the suit, Hemmy smiled through the still-opened face-shield.</p>
+
+<p>"Got the depth charge ready, Keith? Make it fast&mdash;that cavern's
+near!... Good!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ilently the commander fitted the black bomb to his friend's
+shoulders. It was timed to fire a minute after being set. A long wire
+hook craned from its top, and this hook Bowman would fasten on the
+hawser arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Without Sparks, I guess I'll have to communicate with you through
+portable," Keith said, and quickly donned one of the tiny portable
+sets.</p>
+
+<p>"Right. Ready, Keith."</p>
+
+<p>Bowman started his awkward, crawling progress up the ladder into the
+conning tower just above, Keith helping from behind. When they stood
+before the exit port on the lee side, Wells shot back its bolts and
+the door swung open, revealing the black emptiness of the water
+chamber. The commander gazed for a second into Bowman's eyes. The
+moment had come.</p>
+
+<p>Keith turned his head away, felt a hand grip his. He wrung it
+tightly....</p>
+
+<p>Bowman clumped into the chamber.</p>
+
+<p>The commander closed and locked the door, and he heard the streaming
+water pour in as Hemmy turned the valve. Then Wells sped down the
+ladder and tilted the diving and course rudders of the submarine.</p>
+
+<p>She swayed daintily over to port; held there. A moment later the
+recurring electric tingle brushed him. Had the enemy seen Bowman
+leave? Had the ray struck him down?</p>
+
+<p>He glared into the teleview. "Thank God!" he breathed. For Hemmy had
+already slid down the <i>NX-1's</i> smooth hull and was safe on the
+sea-floor beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything right?" Wells asked, speaking into the microphone of his
+portable.</p>
+
+<p>"All O.K.," came the answer. "Going forward now. Kelp thick as hell."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_k.jpg" alt="K" width="50" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>eith's eyes bored at the screen. This misshapen monster who was his
+friend! Almost obscured by bands of thick-leaved kelp the yellow form
+moved, hands clearing a pathway through the weeds. Slowly but surely
+he made for the bow of the submersible.</p>
+
+<p>"Hard going, Keith. God&mdash;the cavern's right ahead!"</p>
+
+<p>It was ghostly to hear Hemmy's warm voice from the lifeless solitude
+outside. Breath coming quickly, Wells watched the silent scene&mdash;the
+cleft in the wall of rock overshadowing everything now. The diver
+fought ahead, gaining inch by inch.</p>
+
+<p>Now, save for occasional clumps of weed, he was exposed to the
+enemy.... Now the last desperate gauntlet was reached.... Keith felt
+his blood pound hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm gaining, Keith. Gaining...."</p>
+
+<p>Bowman had little breath for speech. His tiny form battled on, now
+sinking from sight as he dropped into some masked gully, now wrestling
+slowly with great swaying strands of kelp, but always struggling
+ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm at the bow, Keith! The hawser arm's right in our mooring holes.
+I'll go halfway before fastening the charge. Any signs of life from
+the devil?"</p>
+
+<p>"None yet, Hemmy. But go slow. Hide all you can, old man, for God's
+sake!..."</p>
+
+<p>Right beneath the metal arm, Bowman's dwarfed figure crept doggedly
+ahead. Forward, inch by breathless inch. Kelp thickened, washed away;
+the two hulking submersibles, captor and captive, surged onward&mdash;but
+just a little faster went the valiant figure with the black charge on
+its back.</p>
+
+<p>The towing monster had its snout in the cavern. The darkness
+thickened. Bowman was quarter way!</p>
+
+<p>He plunged desperately. Half way!</p>
+
+<p>"I'm there, Keith! Now for it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, God!" Wells cried. "They see you; they're coming!"</p>
+
+<p>For he had seen strange shapes leaving the enemy submarine.</p>
+
+<p>And at that same moment, Bowman saw them, too.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hey came like the blink of a dark eye from a door that had quickly
+slid open in the mysterious ship's bow. As tall as a man they were,
+and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> were two of them, though at first the nature of their
+bodies merged with the wreathing kelp made them seem like a dozen.
+Bowman stared at them, hypnotized with fear. His legs and arms went
+dead, and his whole gallant spirit seemed to slump into lifeless clay.
+Now he knew why the fishermen had shrieked "machine-fish." Each one of
+them had eight tapering arms, eight restless tentacles. These were
+octopi, most hideous scavengers of the ocean floor! And not only
+octopi&mdash;but octopi sheathed in metal-scaled armor!</p>
+
+<p>As they came closer, he realized this preposterous fact. The dark
+substance of their writhing tentacles was not flesh: it was a coat of
+metal scales. And the fat central mass which held their eyes and vital
+organs and beaked jaw&mdash;this mass was completely enveloped by a globe
+of glass. From inside, he could see great eyes staring at him. The
+monsters came towards him quite slowly, obviously wary, advancing over
+the sea-floor in what was a hideous mockery of walking, their forward
+tentacles outstretched.</p>
+
+<p>With a sob, Hemmy Bowman pulled himself from his trance. He glanced
+back at the <i>NX-1</i>. He still had time to retreat. He might be able to
+get back inside before these monsters seized him.</p>
+
+<p>But that meant abandoning his job. And already his own submarine was
+nosing into the cavern. The choice between the octopi and retreat
+stared him in the face. He pulled himself together and jerked his arms
+back to action.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="44" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>yes bulging, Keith Wells peered at the dim teleview screen. He saw
+the creatures approaching Hemmy. And then, suddenly, he remembered his
+radiophone.</p>
+
+<p>"Hemmy! Come back, for God's sake!" he cried. "Come back while you
+can&mdash;it's hopeless!"</p>
+
+<p>But Bowman had already seized the depth charge from his back and
+hooked it on the hawser arm above.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately, with that action, all caution fled from the approaching
+monsters. Their tentacles whipped furiously; and in a great arc they
+sprang for the tiny figure of the diver.</p>
+
+<p>With a deep breath, Hemmy staggered forward to meet them. "Keith!" he
+gasped. "I'll try to hold 'em away from the charge! When it bursts,
+zoom! Zoom like hell to the surface!" And then the tentacles had him.</p>
+
+<p>Keith watched, cursing his impotence to help. Hemmy had no weapon; he
+was trying to hold them back by the weight of his body; he reached out
+and grasped a tentacle and hugged it to him, shoving forward with all
+his puny strength. But all his effort was as nothing. One of the
+octopi writhed past him and darted onto the depth charge. Its
+tentacles tugged at the bomb; pulled furiously.</p>
+
+<p>The time charge exploded. The <i>NX-1</i> rocked like a quivering reed;
+Wells was knocked violently to the floor; a vast roar smote his
+ear-drums. When he staggered to his feet he found that the octopus
+that was pulling at the charge had disappeared&mdash;blown into fragments
+of flesh and metal. But the hawser arm was broken! The <i>NX-1</i>, free,
+shot back a full fifty feet under the pull of her reversed screws. A
+cry echoed in her commander's ears:</p>
+
+<p>"Go back, Keith! Go like hell!"</p>
+
+<p>He saw the remaining octopus lift Bowman and whip to the exit port of
+its submarine. The lid slid into place, closing on the monster and his
+friend, and the enemy ship vanished into the black cavern....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>nce clear of the opening, Keith set his motors full forward and
+brought the diving rudders up. Quickly the ship sped from the haunted
+sea-floor to the sun-warmed surface. A last thin call rang in his
+radiophone:</p>
+
+<p>"They've got me inside, Keith. It's dark, and filled with water. I
+can't see anything, but I&mdash;I guess we're going through the cavern....
+Forget about me, old boy. So long! So&mdash;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The voice was abruptly cut off.</p>
+
+<p>Keith ripped the instrument from his head. Then, face white and drawn,
+he ran to the radio cubby. Standing over Sparks' inert body, he put
+through a call to Robert Knapp, on the <i>Falcon</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Knapp?" he said harshly. "This is Wells. I'll be with you in a few
+minutes. Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;I'll tell you the whole story later. But get this
+now: Have the day shift all ready to take over the submarine by the
+time I pull alongside."</p>
+
+<p>He said no more just then; but rang off, and, looking back, he
+muttered savagely:</p>
+
+<p>"But I'll be back, Hemmy&mdash;I'll be back!"</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER IV</h4>
+<h4><i>In the Cavern</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_t1.jpg" alt="T" width="64" height="54" /></div>
+<p>hat's the story, Knapp. They got Bowman, and I had to run away.
+Their ship disappeared into the cavern. I've got a hunch, though, that
+it's not just a cavern, but a tunnel, leading through to some
+underwater world. That series of sub-sea earthquakes probably opened
+it up; and now these devil-octopi are free to pour out. I've <i>got</i> to
+find out what's what, and that's why I'm going down again as soon as
+the torpedo system's ready!"</p>
+
+<p>Keith and Robert Knapp were in the <i>Falcon's</i> chart room. On the table
+before them lay a broad white map with a cross-mark indicating the
+position of the mysterious dark cavern.</p>
+
+<p>Wells was striding up and down like a caged tiger in his impatience to
+be off. Every other minute he glared down to where the <i>NX-1</i> lay
+alongside. On her conning tower stood the tall blond-haired figure of
+Graham, the first officer of the day shift, supervising the final
+details of the work of installing a system of jury controls whereby
+the submarine's torpedoes could be fired from her control room.</p>
+
+<p>Keith stopped short and faced Knapp. "It won't be so one-sided this
+time, Bob," he promised. "You see: when the location chart shows the
+enemy ship, I'll rush all men into the control room, where the
+paralyzing ray can't harm them. I don't know but what they have in
+other weapons, but I'm gambling on getting my torps in first. They've
+killed Bowman; they've ravaged a whole fishing fleet; they're free to
+emerge from their hole and maraud every ocean on the globe! They've
+got to be stopped! And since I'm armed and have the only submarine on
+the spot, I've got to do it! I know how to fight them now!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>aptain Robert Knapp's sense of things was badly disordered. He had
+just heard a story which his common sense told him couldn't be true,
+but which the evidence of his eyes had grimly authenticated. He had
+seen fifteen men slung aboard his ship from the <i>NX-1's</i> silent hull;
+men stretched in grotesque, limp attitudes; men struck down by a
+paralyzing ray. Why, no nation on earth had developed rays for
+warfare! Yet&mdash;a crew of helpless men was even then in the sick bay,
+receiving attention in the hope that they might recover.</p>
+
+<p>"You're going right through that cavern, then, Wells?" he asked
+incredulously. "You're going to investigate what lies beyond?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing else! And I won't come out till I've blown that octopi ship
+to pieces!"</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds preposterous," Knapp murmured, shaking his head. "Octopi,
+you say&mdash;and clad in metal suits! Running a submarine more powerful
+than the <i>NX-1</i>! Armed with a ray&mdash;a paralyzing ray! I can't
+believe&mdash;I can't conceive&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You've seen the men!... Knapp, if I were you I'd swing my
+eight-inchers out, bring up the plane catapult and keep the deck
+torpedo tubes loaded and ready. It's best to be prepared; God knows
+what's going on underseas these days!"</p>
+
+<p>First Officer Graham appeared at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> door. "Work finished, sir," he
+said. "Ready to cast off."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank heaven!" Wells muttered, and stretched out his hand to Robert
+Knapp. "Broadcast what I've told you, Bob, and say that the <i>NX-1</i>
+won't be back till everything's under control. I'll keep in touch with
+you. So long!" And he was gone before the captain could even wish him
+good luck.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>rders raced from her commander's fingers on the stud board in the
+control room. "Crash Dive" filled her tanks and put her nose
+perilously down, so that in thirty seconds only a swirling patch of
+water was left to show where once she'd lain. A brief command to the
+helmsman and she pointed straight for the dark cavern marked on the
+chart.</p>
+
+<p>When well under way, Keith descended with Graham to inspect the new
+torpedo firing system, and found it in good working order. "Graham,"
+he ordered tersely, "instruct the crew fully about rushing to the
+control room on one ring of the general alarm. And send the cook up to
+me in a minute or so. I'll be in Sparks' cubby."</p>
+
+<p>Above again, he instructed the radio man to rig a remote control
+sender and receiver in the insulated control room. The need for
+centering the whole crew there during engagements would crowd the room
+awkwardly, but at other times, while proceeding on their inspection of
+the cavern lair, they could remain at their regular posts.</p>
+
+<p>That, at least, was Wells' plan.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up and found the cook, McKegnie, grinning at him from the
+door of the control room. Keith smiled, running his eyes over the
+portly magnificence of his gently perspiring figure. "Keg," he said
+cheerfully, "I want you to move your hot plate and culinary apparatus
+up here; you see, we're all likely to be crowded in here for some
+time, and your coffee's going to be an absolute necessity." He
+couldn't resist a crack at McKegnie's well-known and passionate
+curiosity as to what made the thigmajigs of the control board work:
+"And besides, it'll give you a chance to observe the instruments and
+perfect yourself for your future career as a naval officer. Much
+better than a correspondence course in 'How to Be a Submarine
+Commander,' eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Cook McKegnie grinned sheepishly, and left. He was well used to such
+jests, but he never would admit that his extraordinary interest in
+watching the ship's wheels go round was accompanied by a miraculous
+inability to comprehend why they went round....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ifteen minutes later the helmsman's cry, "Cavern showing, sir!" swung
+the commander to the teleview screen. The dark, kelp-shrouded opening
+he knew so well was already looming on it. And he was prepared.</p>
+
+<p>"Enter," he said, while his punched studs ordered, "Quarter Speed,
+Ready at Posts, Tanks in Trim." The <i>NX-1</i> slackened her gait,
+balanced cautiously, and struck a straight, even course as she crept
+closer to the cleft entrance through which, some two hours earlier,
+the octopi ship had nosed.</p>
+
+<p>Screws turning slowly, she edged through the jagged cavern. Shades of
+inky blackness grew on the teleview and danced in fantastic blotches;
+the screen turned to a welter of black, threatening shadows; became a
+useless maze of ever-changing forms. Keith mouthed curses as he stared
+at it; he now had nothing by which to judge his progress, to maneuver
+the submarine, save directional instruments and, perhaps, chance
+scrapings of the tunnel's ragged walls against the outer hull. The
+<i>NX-1</i> was running a gauntlet of immeasurable danger, her only
+assurance of success being the fact that a larger craft had preceded
+her.</p>
+
+<p>But how far, Keith wondered, had that ship preceded her? How was he to
+know that it had gone straight through? There might be a dozen
+different turnings in this tunnel: the submarine could easily tilt
+head-on against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> a jagged rock and puncture her hull. There might be
+mines planted directly in their course; he might be swimming straight
+into some hideous ambuscade.</p>
+
+<p>He drove these thoughts from his mind. The passage had to be made on
+the fickle authority of the senses; and, realizing this, Wells took
+the helm into his own hands. Graham was posted at the location chart,
+with instructions to report the red light if it showed.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>own below, the Edsel electrics were humming very softly; the men
+stood vigilantly at posts. On their brows were little beads of sweat,
+and here and there a hand clenched nervously. All knew they were in a
+tight place; otherwise they were ignorant of where their commander was
+leading them. Occasionally a long, shivering rasp ran through the ship
+as her hull nudged the rough tunnel wall. Then the course rudders
+would swing gently over; and perhaps, almost immediately, another
+grinding cry of rock and steel would come from the other side. Then
+would come quickly indrawn breaths as the rudders swung again and the
+humming silence droned on.</p>
+
+<p>The scrapings came quite often. Often, too, the motors would go silent
+altogether, and the <i>NX-1</i> would rest almost motionless as her
+commander felt for an opening. It was a tense, nerve-wringing ordeal.
+The silence, the waiting, the dainty scrapings were maddening.</p>
+
+<p>Keith Wells' skin was prickling. He kept only fingertips on the tiny
+helm: he was playing that uncanny sixth sense of the submarine
+commander. When it misled him, the rasping rock groaned out, scarring
+the submarine's smooth skin. Generally, the tunnel was straight; but
+each time he heard his ship rub against some exterior obstruction, his
+teeth went tight&mdash;for who knew but what it might be a mine?</p>
+
+<p>They had penetrated perhaps a half-mile when Graham, eyes steady on
+the teleview, reported: "Light growing, sir!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ells saw that the screen was filling with a soft, faintly glowing
+bluish color. The walls of the tunnel became visible, and he noted
+that they were widening out, funnel-like. He dared to increase speed
+slightly. Three minutes later he saw that the blue illumination was
+seeping from the end of the tunnel. They continued out.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God, we're through!" he muttered to Graham. "You see, I was
+right! It's an underground sea&mdash;and we're at the top of it." For the
+instruments indicated a depth beneath them of roughly three miles.
+They were in, evidently, a large cavern, of vast length and depth.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>NX-1</i> continued slowly forward, two pairs of eyes intent on her
+teleview screen. Keith jotted down the tunnel's position, and the
+funnel-shaped hole sank away behind their slow screws. And then, upon
+the location chart, a faint red dot suddenly glowed!</p>
+
+<p>It was upon them in a flash. A small tube of metal, shaped somewhat in
+the form of the big octopi submarine, had darted up from below,
+hovered a second close to them, and then, almost before they realized
+they were being surveyed, sped back into the mysterious depths from
+which it had come.</p>
+
+<p>"A lookout, I suppose," Keith muttered, breathing more easily.
+"Couldn't have held more than two of those creatures.... Well, the
+alarm's out, I guess, Graham, but it can't be helped. Let's see what
+it's like down below."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hey plunged steadily down, then ahead. And presently there grew on
+the teleview vague forms which widened their eyes and made their
+breath come quicker. Keith had guessed the tunnel led to a
+civilization of some kind, but he was not prepared for the sight that
+loomed hazily through the soft blue water.</p>
+
+<p>Strange, moundlike shapes appeared far below, mounds grouped in
+orderly rows and clusters, with streets running between them, thronged
+with tiny, spidery dots. Octopi! It was, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> commander realized, a
+city of the monsters&mdash;a complete city like those of surface peoples!
+For several miles in every direction the water-city spread out,
+farther than the teleview could pierce. Wells marveled at this
+separately developed civilization, this deep-buried realm of octopi
+whose unexpected intellectual powers had permitted such development.
+Perhaps, he pondered, this city was only one of many; perhaps only a
+village. He could but vaguely glimpse the queer mound buildings, but
+saw that they were of varying height and were filled with dark round
+entrance holes, through which the creatures streamed on their
+different errands....</p>
+
+<p>He saw no schools of fish around. "I guess they're been all killed
+off, or eaten," he commented to the wonder-struck Graham. "Probably
+the octopi have separate hatcheries where they raise them for food."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;good Lord!" the first officer exclaimed. "A city&mdash;a city like
+ours! Down here, filled with octopi!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Wells grimly, "and this 'city' may only be a small
+settlement; there may be scores of these places. We'd better continue
+ahead now that we're here; for we've got to get all the information we
+can. I only hope these monsters haven't more than one big submarine.
+We can expect an attack any minute...."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he <i>NX-1</i> pressed on. The city dropped behind. A breathless tenseness
+had settled down over the submarine; she was proceeding with utmost
+caution, her anxious officers alert at the location chart. The great
+fear that tormented them was that they might be attacked, not by one,
+but by a fleet of the octopi ships....</p>
+
+<p>Then, at the rim of the chart, a red dot appeared! It grew rapidly,
+charging down on them at great speed. The spot was large; this was no
+small sentry boat! At once the alarm bell shrilled its warning; the
+crew below left their posts and raced to the control room. With sure
+mechanical fingers the emergency system gripped the valve handles and
+motor levers; Keith swung the <i>NX-1</i> onto a level keel, straightened
+her out, and decreased speed still more. Giving the rods of the motor
+and rudder controls to Graham, he moved to the small lever which would
+unleash his bow torpedoes, and fingered it lightly. The <i>NX-1</i> was
+ready for action.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely had the men reached the small control room than the familiar
+electric charge tingled. They stared wonderingly at each other, half
+afraid. No one seemed hurt. One hand on the torpedo lever, Wells
+watched his charts and instruments. He thanked God that there was only
+one of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The ray's shock came again&mdash;and stronger. The red dot was practically
+upon them. The screen was still empty. Coolly, Keith slowed the
+submarine to a dead stop. The crimson stud came closer....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>nd then he saw it. It was the same fearsome, hulking form. The same
+curving windows, dark and lifeless. The same knobs on its bow, one now
+leaping and pulsing with the paralyzing glow. At a distance of a few
+hundred feet the octopi ship swerved to a halt, dousing the NX-1 with
+its ray unceasingly. Again those two underwater craft, so oddly
+contrasted, were face to face. And again the weapon that had once
+struck the American ship's crew down at their posts was directed full
+onto the <i>NX-1</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But it was harmless! It merely tingled, and did not paralyze! The
+control room sheathing held it out stoutly. The men's faces showed
+overwhelming relief.</p>
+
+<p>Keith smiled grimly. Now, at least, he had the devils where he wanted
+them; now it was his turn to strike with a&mdash;to them&mdash;terrible,
+mysterious weapon. They had attacked; had failed&mdash;and now he could
+square up for Hemmy and send a pair of torpedoes into that ship of
+hideous tentacles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Port five!" The ship swerved slightly. "Hold even!" The enemy craft
+was very close. The <i>NX-1's</i> bow tubes were sighted in direct line.
+Her torpedoes could not possibly miss. This time, destruction for the
+octopi ship was inevitable....</p>
+
+<p>Keith Wells gripped the lever that held the torps in leash.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Wait!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Sparks, a bare foot from him, yelled out the word. Wells, alarmed,
+released his grip on the knob. The radio operator was listening
+intently, a circle of taut faces around his crouched back. He swung
+excitedly around.</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake, don't fire!" he cried. "Hemingway Bowman's on that
+submarine! He's alive&mdash;and calling for you!"</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER V</h4>
+<h4><i>The Other Weapon</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div>
+<p>owman&mdash;alive!</p>
+
+<p>Keith Wells let go the torpedo lever. His whole orderly plan of action
+was crashed in a second.&mdash;For an instant he stood gaping at the radio
+man, forgetful of the peril outside, striving desperately to hit on
+some way of surmounting this unlooked-for obstacle. The idea of firing
+on his friend&mdash;killing Hemmy Bowman with his own hand&mdash;paralyzed his
+brain.</p>
+
+<p>And in that unguarded instant the octopi struck.</p>
+
+<p>From the bow of the enemy submarine, slanting from another of its
+peculiar knobs, a narrow beam of violet light poured, cutting a vivid
+swathe across the teleview. The huddled men stared at it, not
+comprehending what it was. They felt no shock of electricity, nor
+could they discern any other harmful effect. The ray held steadily on
+their bow, not varying in the slightest, for a full thirty seconds.
+And still none of them could feel or see any damage.</p>
+
+<p>Wells, however, gradually became aware that he was bathed in
+perspiration, that great streams of sweat were coursing down his
+face. A quick glance told him that every member of the crew was the
+same way; and then, suddenly, he was conscious of a wave of intense
+heat&mdash;heat which quickly became terrific. The control room was
+stifling!</p>
+
+<p>Before he could act, the <i>NX-1</i> slipped sharply to one side. A sharp
+hissing sound grew at her bow, climbing steadily to a shriek. Long
+streamers of white steam crept along the lower deck and seeped up into
+the control room. And then rose the fatal sound of rushing
+water&mdash;water pouring into the submarine from outside!</p>
+
+<p>For the violet beam was a heat ray&mdash;a weapon surface civilizations had
+not yet developed. While the <i>NX-1's</i> crew had stared at it in the
+teleview, it had melted a hole in their bow.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately the submarine lost trim, and the deck tilted ominously. In
+the face of material danger&mdash;danger from a source he understood&mdash;the
+commander became cool and methodical.</p>
+
+<p>"Sea-suits on!" he snapped. "Then forward and break out steel
+collision-mat and weld it in place! Every man! You, too, Sparks and
+McKegnie!"</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but, sir!" stammered Graham. "Do you want them to get us with
+their paralyzing ray?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'd rather drown?" Wells flung back. Silenced, the first officer
+donned his sea-suit, and in thirty seconds the rest of the crew had
+theirs on and were cluttering clumsily forward.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>lone in the control room, Keith battled with the unbalancing flow of
+water, maneuvering with all his skill in a futile attempt to keep the
+<i>NX-1</i> on even keel. The men forward worked with great speed, spurred
+on by the realization that they were fighting death itself, but even
+as they labored the submarine swung in ever increasing rolls and dips;
+the great weight of water she had shipped slopped back and forth; her
+bow went steadily down. Keith swept her forward tanks clean of water,
+always conscious of the immobile, staring octopi submarine in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+teleview, watching them, it seemed, curiously, and not driving home
+their advantage with additional bolts of the violet heat ray.</p>
+
+<p>Despite her commander's frantic efforts, the <i>NX-1</i> fluttered down
+remorselessly; the cavern floor rose, and, sinking with them, came the
+octopi craft, in slow mockery of a fighting plane pursuing its
+stricken foe to the very ground....</p>
+
+<p>She struck bottom with a soft, thudding jar, and settled on even keel.
+At once Wells released the helm, jumped into his own sea-suit and
+stumbled down to take command.</p>
+
+<p>He found the steel collision-mat in place, and the welding of it
+nearly completed. A few feathery trickles of water still seeped
+through on each side, but under his terse directions the pumps were
+soon draining it out. The weird figures of the crew in their sea-suits
+looked like creatures from another planet as they rapidly finished the
+job.</p>
+
+<p>"All right&mdash;up to the control room, everybody! Fast!" Wells roared.</p>
+
+<p>The men stumbled aft as rapidly as they could in their cumbersome
+suits. Several were already on the ladder. A few feet further&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But at that moment the paralyzing ray again stabbed into the ship&mdash;and
+Keith Wells slumped helplessly to the deck. And as he crumpled, he
+glimpsed the grotesque, falling figures of his men, and saw one come
+tumbling down the ladder from the control room, where he had almost
+reached safety....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>eculiar sensations, unendurable thoughts raced through the commander
+as he lay there limply. He knew his predicament. He wanted desperately
+to rise, to rush to the control room. Time and time again in those
+first few moments of impotence he strove mightily to pull his limbs
+back to life. But his greatest efforts were barren of result, save to
+leave him feeling still weaker. The fate that he had seen strike down
+Brown now enmeshed him. He was paralyzed. Helpless. In the midst of
+his crew.</p>
+
+<p>After a moment all sensation left his body. His limbs might not have
+existed. Sensation, pain, lived only in his brain&mdash;and there it was
+terrible, because self-created.</p>
+
+<p>He found himself sprawled flat on his back, his eyes directed stiffly
+upward. He could not move them, but out of the corners he vaguely
+sensed the other figures around him. Helpless, every one! And who knew
+if they would ever come out of the spell! Victory had gone to the
+octopi....</p>
+
+<p>Minutes that seemed like hours passed. And then a well-remembered
+voice sounded in the radio earphones in his helmet. It was Hemmy
+Bowman, speaking from the enemy ship.</p>
+
+<p>"Keith! Keith Wells! Are you there?" the voice cried. "Keith! What
+have they done to you?"</p>
+
+<p>And Keith, he could not answer! He could not answer that troubled
+voice of his friend&mdash;that voice from a friend he had thought dead.</p>
+
+<p>Again Bowman spoke. "Keith! Can't you hear me? What are they doing to
+you? Oh&mdash;" For a moment it stopped, then came once more, thick with
+anguish. "Oh, God, what's happened?" Then lower: "If only there were
+light, so I could see what they're doing...." The voice tapered into
+silence. Keith could picture Hemmy, probably bound, giving him up for
+dead....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hen, quite distinctly, he heard a clank at the <i>NX-1's</i> bow! The
+submarine jerked, her bow tilted up&mdash;and with increasing speed she
+moved forward, silently as a ghost.</p>
+
+<p>Keith thought he knew what that meant. The octopi ship had grasped
+them with another of its hawser arms, and was pulling them away. But
+where to? One of those mound cities? His brain was a turmoil as he
+tried to imagine what was before them. But all he could do was lie
+there and wait.</p>
+
+<p>The American craft was towed for perhaps ten minutes&mdash;ten ages to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+commander&mdash;then coasted slowly to a pause, and with a sharp jar
+settled into rest. As she did so, every light in her hull went
+suddenly out.</p>
+
+<p>It had been bad enough with the lights on, but the darkness was far
+worse. The submarine was a tomb&mdash;as silent as one, and full of men who
+lived and yet were dead. Hemmy Bowman's voice came no more to Wells.
+He was alone with his moiling doubts and fears and unanswerable
+questions, and he knew that every other man there was alone with them,
+too....</p>
+
+<p>As his eyes became partially accustomed to the darkness, he could
+distinguish vaguely the forms of the familiar mechanisms above him. A
+slight noise grew suddenly and resolved itself into a prolonged
+scraping along the outer hull of the submarine. At intervals it paused
+and gave way to a series of sharp, definite taps.</p>
+
+<p>Keith realized what those sounds signified: the octopi were striving
+to find some entrance to the <i>NX-1</i>! This, he told himself, was the
+end. The creatures would break through; water would rush in, and every
+man would drown. For the face-shields of their sea-suits were open!</p>
+
+<p>The dull scrapings ran completely around the motionless submarine,
+punctuated with the same staccato tappings. By the movement of the
+sound, Wells realized the octopi were approaching the lower starboard
+exit port. And as they neared that port, the noise abruptly stopped.</p>
+
+<p>Then for some minutes silence fell. Next, the commander heard what was
+unmistakably the exit port's water chamber being filled&mdash;and a moment
+later emptied again. The devilish creatures had solved the puzzle of
+the means of entrance!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n the awful darkness the inner door of the port swung open. A slow,
+slithering sound came to Wells' ears. He sensed, though he could not
+see, the presence of alien creature. An odor struck his nostrils&mdash;that
+of fish....</p>
+
+<p>A deliberate something crawled directly across one outstretched arm,
+and another across his legs. And above him loomed a monstrous,
+complicated shadow, which, after a moment, slowly melted from his line
+of vision. Panicky, he strove again to bring his limbs back to life,
+but still could not....</p>
+
+<p>Keith knew that in the darkness which their huge unblinking eyes could
+penetrate they were inspecting the <i>NX-1's</i> interior, examining the
+men stretched on its deck, feeling them with their cold metal-scaled
+tentacles. Another complicated shadow crept back over the commander's
+line of sight, and from all around rose the slithering, shuffling
+tread of the octopi's many tentacles, rasping on the steel flooring.</p>
+
+<p>Sweat from Wells' forehead trickled down and stung his eyes as he lay
+in that dark agony. There seemed to be countless investigating
+tentacles feeling through the entire submarine. One of them,
+iron-hard, suddenly coiled under his armpit and lifted him lightly as
+a feather from the deck. Another snaked up and clicked his face-shield
+securely shut. Keith heard other clicks, and knew that the shields of
+his men were likewise being closed.</p>
+
+<p>The commander was held straight out from the octopus' revolting body,
+and as he swung, helpless, he could see that more men were grasped
+similarly in other mighty arms. Dangling in the shadow-filled darkness
+he was carried slowly to the exit port, and he heard the inner door
+swing open, then close again. Water streamed through the valves; it
+encompassed him with a feeling of lightness, a feeling of floating, as
+he swung at the end of the long metal-sheathed tentacles. A moment
+later a soft bluish glow burst on his vision, and he saw that he was
+outside. There was a long wait, and when the current next swung him
+around he was dismayed to see that every one of the monstrous
+creatures near him was dangling on high two or three men of his
+helpless crew. The whole outfit was in the power of the devil-fish!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And then their captors moved forward with them on a ghastly march of
+triumph....</p>
+
+<p>But Keith Wells did not know that, crouched behind the instrument
+panel in the control room, shivering and sick with fear, was the plump
+form of Cook Angus McKegnie, who had just gained it just before the
+paralyzing ray had struck.</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VI</h4>
+<h4><i>The Monster with the Armlets of Gold</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+<p>emingway Bowman's ardent wish, after he was whipped quickly through
+the round exit port of the octopi submarine, was for a quick, clean
+death. The horror and mystery of his situation had left him with one
+conscious emotion, that he was afraid. The worst had been when he was
+hauled through the port; when, expecting anything, he had been able to
+see nothing in the dark, water-filled mystery ship.</p>
+
+<p>Deliberate tentacles had stroked over every inch of his
+body&mdash;tentacles that were not metal-scaled, as had been the arms of
+the creature that captured him. It was then that he guessed the true
+purpose of the metal suits the octopi wore&mdash;to protect their bodies
+against the lesser pressure near the surface of the sea. Inside the
+submarine they did not need them. He decided that the ship was used
+for rapidly transporting large numbers of the octopi to distant
+regions, and also for a weapon of offense and defense. The
+intelligence of the cuttlefish astounded him.</p>
+
+<p>Keith had got away. At least he knew that, and he thanked God for it.
+His bold stroke had not been in vain, his sacrifice not useless.</p>
+
+<p>After the inspection of the tentacles, Hemmy had been shoved to a
+corner of the octopi submarine. He had felt cords wrapped around his
+body. After being thus secured, he was left to himself. He was utterly
+alone, except for strange, vague shadows that floated through the
+darkness&mdash;shadows that heated his brain as he realized how many of
+the devil-fish there were.</p>
+
+<p>Hours that seemed like endless days passed.</p>
+
+<p>Bowman concluded that the submarine had gone straight through the
+cavern and emerged finally into what seemed to be another sea. Dead
+silence filled the ship. What was happening, he could only guess. The
+craft seemed to run on forever. Never once did tentacles brush or
+inspect him again.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>inally the ship stopped, and a great round door opened in one wall.
+By the soft bluish glow that seeped in Hemmy caught a glimpse of his
+surroundings, and his gorge rose at the sight. The ship was literally
+filled with a slowly waving forest of long black tentacles. Weird
+instruments, unlike anything he had ever seen, were grouped around the
+walls, and before them attendant octopi poised, their hideous eyes
+fixed and steady. There were no dividing decks as in the <i>NX-1</i>; the
+craft was one huge shell.</p>
+
+<p>Then came furious activity. The door fell shut again, and the ship
+shot off at great speed. Hemmy felt sure that they were advancing to
+again attack the <i>NX-1</i>, and at once began to try to reach his
+comrades through radiophone. He knew that Wells would come back.</p>
+
+<p>Finally he caught a human voice, and heard the <i>NX-1's</i> radio operator
+shout to the commander that he, Bowman, was alive and calling. But
+when he tried to speak further, the American craft's radio was silent.</p>
+
+<p>And then, in the octopi submarine, had come a soft glow of violet....</p>
+
+<p>Was it a more deadly weapon than the paralyzing ray? In great suspense
+the prisoner waited. Silence&mdash;silence! Horrible doubts beset his mind.
+Was Keith refraining from firing his torpedoes because he, Bowman, was
+on board the enemy boat? The thought stung him. He tried desperately
+again to reach Wells; but there was no answer. Were the Americans
+dead?</p>
+
+<p>Age-long minutes passed. Then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> exit port opened and several
+metal-clad octopi swam out. Hemmy had a glimpse of the <i>NX-1</i> lying
+silent and apparently lifeless on the sea-floor, a gaping hole in her
+bow!</p>
+
+<p>As if to taunt him with the sight, the creatures left the round door
+open, and presently Bowman beheld the octopi open the <i>NX-1's</i>
+starboard exit port and enter. Later the port swung open again, and he
+saw the monsters emerge, each gripping several men clad in yellow
+sea-suits! That they were dead, or victims of the ray, was obvious
+from the way they limply dangled.</p>
+
+<p>The exit port closed, and darkness filled the octopi ship. Hemmy
+Bowman panted with the futile effort to break his bonds.</p>
+
+<p>"You devils!" he yelled in blind rage, exhausted. "Why don't you take
+me with them? Take me! Take me, damn your stinking hides!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hen Keith Wells was taken from the silent <i>NX-1</i>, a host of
+astounding impressions swarmed his brain. Swinging lightly at the end
+of his captor's tentacle, he strove as best he could, with eyes
+rigidly fixed straight ahead, to grasp his new surroundings. He had,
+first, one flash of the octopi ship lying quite close to them, its
+hulk, as always, immobile and apparently lifeless. And inside it, he
+was sure, was his friend and first officer, Hemmy Bowman&mdash;a captive.</p>
+
+<p>He saw that the octopi submarine had towed the <i>NX-1</i> into one of the
+weird mound cities. His own ship was lying in what seemed a kind of
+public square, and crowds of black octopi were swarming around it as
+he and his crew were brought out. Shooting straight off the square ran
+one of the wide streets he had previously seen from above, and on each
+side the brown mound-buildings rose. Their details were hazy, because
+of the cuttlefish inhabitants who swam thickly in front of them.</p>
+
+<p>His captors started their march down this broad street. Great crowds
+of reddish-colored octopi clustered on each side of it; other swarms
+hung almost motionless&mdash;except for their constantly writhing
+tentacles&mdash;above, so that their line of progress was through what
+resembled a restless, living tunnel of repulsive black flesh, snaky
+arms and huge, unblinking eyes. Keith felt faint from the horror of
+it. Thousands of the monsters were there, all hanging in the soft,
+blue-glowing water; and occasionally, as he floated almost
+horizontally in his captor's firm grip, his legs would brush the wall
+of clammy flesh; or perhaps one of the tentacles would reach out as if
+to touch him.</p>
+
+<p>The octopus that held him swam some five feet off the street bed
+itself; at intervals the thick swarm on either side would part for a
+second, and Keith could glimpse the huge mound-buildings, ever growing
+larger, with round entrance holes dotted all over their smooth
+surface, above as well as the sides.</p>
+
+<p>The march was ghastly. Their captors were taking them through the
+heart of the water-metropolis; displaying their human captives as did
+the Caesars in Roman triumphs of old!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he swarming crowds of tentacled monsters grew thicker as they
+progressed, and their tentacles began to whip more quickly, as if
+anger was burning in their loathsome bodies. Keith noted the menace of
+their sharp-beaked jaws, and the sickening sucker-discs on the livid
+under-side of the tentacles. As far as he could see, the swarms fell
+in behind the procession after it had passed. Following them&mdash;where?</p>
+
+<p>Just as Wells felt himself on the verge of fainting, the procession
+turned to the right and entered the largest mound-building of all, a
+vast dome rising in the very center of the octopi metropolis. They
+continued through a corridor perhaps twenty feet high, from which at
+intervals other corridors branched. Held by one arm, and ever and
+again turning helplessly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> over in his horizontal transit, Keith caught
+glimpses of walls covered with intricate designs on a basic
+eight-armed motif&mdash;designs of artistic value, that gave evidence of
+culture and civilization.</p>
+
+<p>The passage ended as suddenly as it had begun, and they came into the
+main body of a gigantic building.</p>
+
+<p>The commander could hardly credit his eyes. The place resembled a
+stadium, and was so vast that he felt dwarfed to nothingness. The
+domed roof soared far above in misty bluish light. On the floor,
+exactly beneath the center of the great dome, was a raised platform,
+and on it a dais resembling a very wide throne. Around the dais a
+score or more of octopi&mdash;officials, Keith supposed&mdash;were grouped.</p>
+
+<p>Rapidly the creatures following the procession swam into the chamber.
+Monstrously large as the place was, the floor soon was filled with the
+thick flood of cuttlefish which swarmed in from many doors. Keith,
+held with the other captives just to one side of the hole he had
+entered by, began to think that they must soon refuse to let any more
+in&mdash;when, to his surprise, he saw the latest arrivals begin to form a
+gallery twenty feet above those on the ground floor, and, when this
+was extended far back and completely filled, start yet another above
+it&mdash;and another, and another.... In ten minutes the mighty hall was
+crowded with countless layers of the cold-eyed monsters, each layer
+angling up from the central dais so that all could see.</p>
+
+<p>"God!" the commander thought. "Nothing but solidly-packed devil-fish
+all the way to the dome! A slaughter pit! And we, of course, are to be
+the cattle!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>inutes passed. The throne was still empty, and the thousands in the
+amphitheater seemed waiting for an occupant. Keith wished he was able
+to close his eyes. The restless, never-ceasing weaving of the
+countless tentacles in the levels above made the scene a nightmare.
+Some waved slowly, others whipped excitedly, but never for an instant
+did one pause. The movements were like the never-ceasing shifting and
+swaying of the trunks and feet of elephants; in the dim glow the huge
+chamber seemed to be filled with one fantastic, million-tentacled
+monster that stared with its thousand eyes down on the forlorn group
+of puny human beings....</p>
+
+<p>As if at a command the arms of the octopi on the platform suddenly
+began to weave in perfect unison in some weird ceremony. First they
+swayed out towards the waiting captives, then they swerved slowly to
+the empty throne. Then came a few quick, excited whippings; and once
+more the long arms reached out at the small group at the entrance.
+This went on for some minutes. Then, very suddenly, a creature swam up
+from what must have been an opening in the floor onto the dais-throne.</p>
+
+<p>Keith saw it well.</p>
+
+<p>It was an octopus, a giant amongst octopi, and Wells knew at once it
+was the ruler of the realm, the lord and master of the swarming
+galleries and the cities of mound-buildings.</p>
+
+<p>It was larger than its fellows by a full three feet. And, encircling
+each great tentacle just where it joined the central mass of flesh,
+was a broad, glittering band of polished gold&mdash;eight thick armlets
+that ringed the creature's revolting head-body with a circle of
+gleaming pagan splendor. Keith could almost fancy that a certain royal
+air hung over the monster.</p>
+
+<p>The huge, unblinking eyes of the king stared at the horror-frozen
+captives. One long tentacle lifted slowly upward, and their captors at
+once started towards the throne with them. The score of octopi on each
+side stilled their weaving arms. A battery of emotionless eyes drilled
+into Wells' paralyzed body. He felt faint. Unquestionably the horrible
+ceremony was leading up to some form of cold-blooded sacrifice....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</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 monarch stretched a mighty arm towards Keith, and, as in a dream,
+he felt himself lifted out of his guard's grasp. The snakelike
+tentacle gripped him about the waist, and held him dangling like a
+puppet twenty feet in the water while the two deadly eyes stared
+steadily at him. He was brought closer, until the hideous central
+mass, with its cruel beaked jaw and ink sac hanging behind, was no
+more than a foot away.</p>
+
+<p>Then another arm stroked slowly along the commander's helpless body.
+Once or twice it prodded sharply, and Wells felt a surge of fear, for
+his sea-suit might break. Deliberately the prying tentacle moved over
+him, delicately feeling his helmet, his weighted feet, his legs.</p>
+
+<p>Keith Wells grew angry. He was being inspected like a trapped monkey!
+He, commander of the <i>NX-1</i>, representative of one of the world's
+mightiest nations&mdash;prodded and stared at by this fish, this octopus! A
+great rage suffused him, and with a terrific effort he tried to jab
+his arms into one of those devilish eyes. But try as he might, his
+body would not respond. He could not move a finger.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time the loathsome inspection continued, until the
+monstrous king seemed satisfied. Wells was handed back. There followed
+an interminable period in which nothing whatever was done, as far as
+he could see. He was sure that they must be talking, debating, but no
+sound reached his ears through the tight helmet. All the time the
+endless motion in the swarming levels above went on. It became hazy,
+dreamlike, and in spite of himself the commander began to feel drowsy.
+The weaving and swaying was producing a hypnotic effect. At last the
+desire to sleep grew overpowering.</p>
+
+<p>Wells and his men were more than half unconscious when their original
+captors finally pulled them back from the royal presence and began a
+humble retreat from the throne room. Slowly they backed to the
+entrance. Keith's last drowsy glimpse was of a grotesque, gold-ringed
+monster on a throne, with a score of smaller tentacled creatures
+around him, and a vast haze of weaving tentacles and unblinking eyes
+above.</p>
+
+<p>They passed from the huge chamber. The commander felt delirious, as in
+a nightmare, but he knew that they were again in the long corridor,
+and that their captors were taking them further into the mighty
+building, further from the street outside. He glimpsed great rooms
+branching off the corridor, and swarms of black octopi inside them.
+The light became fainter; and at last the procession turned into a
+separate, rough-walled chamber, dimly lit and empty.</p>
+
+<p>Wells felt the grip around his arm loosen, and he floated limply to
+the floor among his men. He slept....</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VII</h4>
+<h4><i>The Glass Bell Jar</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_k.jpg" alt="K" width="50" height="52" /></div>
+<p>eith awoke hours later.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly he became conscious of a cramped, stiff body, of a dull pain
+racking his head. He stretched out his limbs&mdash;and, suddenly, realized
+he could move.</p>
+
+<p>Remembering the paralyzing ray that had struck him down, and half
+afraid that his senses were tricking him, he kicked his left leg out.
+It moved with its old vigor. He quickly found that his strength had
+returned, that he could feel and move. The effect of the ray had worn
+off!</p>
+
+<p>With a glow of new hope he rose to his feet and exercised numb
+muscles. Looking around, he saw the other men still stretched out on
+the floor of their rough-walled, watery prison. He called into his
+radiophone mouthpiece:</p>
+
+<p>"Graham! Graham, wake up!" A grotesque figure stirred among its
+fellows; turned over. "It's Wells, Graham," Keith continued. "Get up;
+you can, now!" And he watched the form of his big first officer
+stretch out and finally rise, while stupid, sleepy sounds came to his
+radio receiver.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why; the paralysis is gone!" Graham said at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but maybe the octopi don't know it. Rouse the other men at once,
+and we'll see what we can do."</p>
+
+<p>It was weird, the sight of the lifeless figures of the men stirring to
+life in the dim-lit water as Graham shook each one's shoulder. The
+radiophones buzzed and clicked with their excited comments and
+ejaculations. Keith felt much better. With his men restored to
+strength, and clustered in a determined, hard-fighting mass, he saw a
+hope of breaking out and regaining the <i>NX-1</i>.</p>
+
+<p>He let them exercise as he had for some minutes, then proceeded to a
+brisk roll-call. There should be fifteen men and two officers. Rapidly
+Graham ran over the names, and each time a voice rang back in
+reply&mdash;until he came to the cook.</p>
+
+<p>"McKegnie?... Cook McKegnie?"</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. Wells stared around the group of dim figures and
+himself called the name again. But McKegnie was not present. And as
+the commander and his men realized it the numbing spell of their
+desperate position settled down on them again like a shroud.</p>
+
+<p>Keith shook off the mood. "Well," he muttered, "I guess the devils got
+him. Poor McKegnie's seen the wheels go round for the last time....
+All right: take command, Graham. I'm going to do a little
+reconnoitering."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he round entrance hole was some fifteen feet from him, at the far end
+of the cell. Keith advanced cautiously to it, the peculiar light
+feeling the water gave him making his steps uncertain. The dim blue
+illumination made the details of the corridor outside hazy, shadowy,
+but it seemed to be empty. Peering out, Wells could sight no guarding
+octopi. He edged closer and stared down to the left. Twenty feet away
+the vague light tapered into darker gloom, filled with thick, wavering
+shadows; but it was apparently devoid of tentacles. He wondered if
+the octopi were unaware that the effects of their ray had worn off,
+and peeped cautiously around the edge to the right.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately a long arm whipped out, grasped him around the waist and
+flung him twisting and turning back into the chamber. Graham
+laboriously made his way to the commander and helped him to his feet.
+"Hurt, sir?" he asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"No," Keith gasped. "But that devil&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short. The first officer turned and followed his
+commander's stare.</p>
+
+<p>The entrance hole of the cell had filled with a monstrous shape. A
+huge octopus was resting there, its unblinking eyes coldly surveying
+the crew of the <i>NX-1</i>. On each of its thick tentacles was a broad
+band of polished gold. It was the king, the same creature that had
+inspected them from the throne-dais a few hours before. And behind him
+in the corridor the men glimpsed another octopus.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the ruler of the octopi swam into the chamber. Its great eyes
+centered icily on Keith Wells, standing at the head of his cowering
+men; and its mighty tentacles waved slowly, gracefully, as if the
+creature stood in doubt. One of them tentatively reached out and
+hovered over their heads, moving uncertainly back and forth. Then,
+like a monstrous water snake, the tentacle poised, flicked out and
+plucked a man from his comrades.</p>
+
+<p>His shriek of terror rasped in their earphones. "Steady, men!" Keith
+cried. "It's hopeless to try and fight them! The monster just wants to
+look him over!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he man&mdash;Williams, a petty officer&mdash;was dangled by the armpit in
+mid-water and made to slowly revolve. The tip of another huge arm
+snaked out and for some seconds stroked his body, probing curiously.
+He panted with fright, and in their earphones his friends could hear
+his every tortured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> exhalation. Anxiously, Keith watched. Then,
+without warning, another tentacle darted up, fastened its tip on the
+breast of the captive's sea-suit, and deliberately ripped it open.</p>
+
+<p>The doomed man's last scream rang in their helmets as the water poured
+into his suit. They saw him writhe and struggle desperately in the
+remorseless grip which held him. The two huge eyes of the cuttlefish
+surveyed his death throes minutely; watched his agonized struggles
+gradually weaken; watched his legs and arms relax, his head sink
+lower.... And then the tentacle let a lifeless body float to the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>Jennerby, a huge engineer, went completely mad. "I'll get him, the
+devil!" he yelled, and before Keith could command him to stay back,
+had flung himself onto the giant king.</p>
+
+<p>Death came as a mere matter of course. Without apparent effort, the
+monarch ripped off Jennerby's helmet and sent him spinning back. The
+man's body writhed and shuddered, and in a moment another stark white
+face showed where death had struck....</p>
+
+<p>Trembling, sick at heart, the commander yet had to think of his men.
+"For God's sake," he cautioned them, "keep back. Don't try to fight
+now; we've got to wait our chance! Steady. Steady...."</p>
+
+<p>The king's deliberate tentacle again began its slow weaving. It was
+choosing another victim. And this time it darted straight out at Keith
+Wells and gripped him with a mighty clutch about the waist.</p>
+
+<p>The commander did not cry out. As he was brought close to the staring
+eyes, and felt their sinister gaze run over him, it flashed through
+him for some obscure reason that the monster knew him for what he was,
+the leader, from the tiny bars on each shoulder of his sea-suit.... He
+waited for the tentacles to rip it open.</p>
+
+<p>But they did not. Instead, the creature turned and swiftly swam with
+him out through the entrance hole.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hey went to the left in the corridor, further into the heart of the
+building. The bluish light became stronger. As Keith twisted in the
+giant monarch's grip he glimpsed the other octopus following with the
+two dead men. He saved his strength knowing it was hopeless just then
+to try and struggle free.</p>
+
+<p>Quick as was his passage, he noticed that the walls of the corridor
+were covered with intricate designs, in bas-relief, and colored. He
+passed row after row of mural paintings of octopi in various
+activities, and guessed that they represented the race's history. One
+was obviously a scene of battle, with a tentacled army locked in
+combat with another strange horde of fishlike creatures; a second
+showed the construction of the queer mound-buildings on the sea-floor,
+with scores of monsters hauling great chunks of material into place,
+and another pictured the huge audience chamber, with a gold-banded
+king motionless on his throne.</p>
+
+<p>As the king drew him rapidly along, he had a glimpse through a
+circular doorway of a large room, inside which were clustered the
+black shapes of thousands of baby octopi, tended by what were
+evidently nurses. Other such rooms were passed, and the young
+commander's brain whirled as he tried to measure the size and progress
+of this undersea civilization. Perhaps the race of octopi was growing,
+reaching out; needed new room to colonize. That would explain why
+their submarine had been sent through the tunnel....</p>
+
+<p>A voice sounded in his ears:</p>
+
+<p>"Keith? Are you all right?" It was Graham, calling from the cell
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>"So far," Wells assured him. "I'll keep in touch, and let you know
+what happens."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment, his captor carried him into a large chamber at the end
+of the corridor. He looked around, and decided it was a laboratory. He
+beheld strange instruments, anatomical charts of octopi on the walls
+and, in one corner, a small jar of glass, in which a dull<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> flame was
+burning. Many-shaped keen-bladed knives lay on various low tables, and
+thin, wicked-looking prongs and pincers.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm in their experimental laboratory, Graham," Wells spoke into the
+mouthpiece of his tiny radio. And then his roving eyes saw something
+that made him audibly gasp.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Keith?" came the first officer's anxious voice.</p>
+
+<p>After a moment the commander answered. "It's&mdash;it's a pile of human
+bodies. The bodies of those fishermen. They&mdash;they've been
+experimenting on them...."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>as he, too, Wells wondered, to be experimented on? The sight of that
+stacked pile of bodies chilled him with horror. He kept his eyes from
+them, till the octopus with the golden bands swung him through a
+hinged door in the farther wall.</p>
+
+<p>He found himself in a side room, smaller than the outer chamber, the
+whole center of which was occupied by a huge glass bell jar, some
+thirty feet in diameter. Inside it was much strange-looking apparatus
+on tables, and trays of operating instruments&mdash;knives like those in
+the outer room, and the same thin prongs. The great jar was empty of
+water, and on one side was an entrance port.</p>
+
+<p>The king tossed Keith into a corner and quickly donned a metal-scaled
+water-suit. When he had it all on, and the glass body-container
+fastened into place, he picked up his captive again and advanced
+through the bell jar's entrance port into a small water chamber. A
+moment later Wells felt his body grow heavy as the water of the
+compartment ran out, and then there was a click and he found himself
+inside the jar, still held in the merciless grip of a tentacle.</p>
+
+<p>He twisted around to find the cold eyes of the octopus staring at him
+only a foot away. And as he wondered what was going to happen next,
+the king unfastened the glass face-shield of the commander's sea-suit
+with a quick flip of the tip of a tentacle.</p>
+
+<p>Keith's arms were pinned to his sides; he could not move to try to
+refasten the face-shield. Fearful, he held his breath; held it until
+his face was purple and his lungs were near to bursting. But at last
+the limit was reached, and with a great wrench he sucked in a full
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>It was clean, fresh air!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he air was like a breath of his own world brought down to this cold
+realm of octopi. Once he had caught up with his breathing it poured
+new life into his limbs, jaded from the artificial air of the
+sea-suit. Keith felt his muscles respond, felt his whole body glow
+with new strength and life. Twelve inches away the king was watching
+his every reaction closely through the huge helmet of glass. The
+thought passed through the commander's mind that he was not only king,
+but chief scientist of this strange water civilization.</p>
+
+<p>Then, while his lungs swallowed hungrily the good, fresh air, several
+tentacles began to feel around him in an attempt to unfasten the rest
+of his sea-suit.</p>
+
+<p>Wells blanched at the sudden realization of how helpless he would be
+if the suit were taken from him. He would then not only be a prisoner
+of the octopi, but a prisoner of the glass jar, unable ever to leave
+it, and more than ever at the mercy of his captor's least whim. Not
+that he had any delusion that he would live long in any case: it was
+just the simple strong instinct of self-preservation that made him
+grab at every chance for life.</p>
+
+<p>This thought flashed through his mind, even while the octopus was
+fumbling with the catches of his suit. And along with it was born a
+desperate plan of escape. He was in his own element, air; the octopus
+out of his. If he could crack the glass of the king's helmet, and let
+the water out and air in!... The glass was only twelve inches away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The commander stopped his resistance, and at the same time felt about
+with his legs until he had them well braced against a lower tentacle.
+He pushed gently, and came a few inches nearer the glass; a little
+more. Then, with a quick, strong jerk of his body he crashed the steel
+frame of his helmet square against the cuttlefish's sheathing of
+glass.</p>
+
+<p>The creature was taken wholly by surprise. Tentacles whipped out to
+tear the rash human quickly away&mdash;but not before Keith had pounded
+again, and heard the splinter of smashed glass! He had jabbed a hole
+in the glass body-piece, and already the life-giving water was pouring
+out!</p>
+
+<p>Panic seized the king, and he became a nightmare of tortured
+tentacles. Wells was flung wildly away and fetched up against the side
+of the jar with a crash that for a second stunned him. More and more
+water poured from the octopus' suit, and air at once rushed in to take
+its place. The creature's great eyes became filmy, while the revolting
+spidery body slewed here and there across the jar, all the time
+whipping and thrashing at the strangling air. Keith scurried from side
+to side, trying to keep out of reach of the crazy, writhing tentacles.
+Once a glancing blow knocked him flat, but the monster was altogether
+unconscious of him and he got away.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little the terrific whipping and coiling of the tentacles
+quieted down. The drowning king lay in one place now; its loathsome
+red body, no longer protected by glass, turned bluish. Keith thrilled
+with elation at his victory.</p>
+
+<p>And then, for the first time, he noticed that there was a full three
+inches of water on the floor&mdash;far too much to spill from the king's
+suit. A quick look around showed him where it came from. There was a
+long crack in the side of the glass jar, at the place where he had
+been crashed against it&mdash;and water was pouring in!</p>
+
+<p>Keith flung himself against the crack, jammed his arm into the
+broadest part of the leak. But still the water rushed in. The octopus
+was in its death throes, weakening steadily&mdash;but just as steadily the
+water poured in and rose up the sides of its body. In a flash Wells
+saw that the liquid would win the race to cover it and allow the
+monster to resume breathing.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, damn it!" he cursed fervently. "Now I've got to run for it!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e stumbled to the port, snapping shut his face-shield as he went. In
+a moment he had solved the working of the mechanism and was in the
+water chamber, then outside in the room itself. Fortunately his
+sea-suit was unhurt. He thanked heaven for that as he tore away a
+boardlike piece of apparatus and jammed it over the leak in the jar.</p>
+
+<p>Keith paused a moment to plan. The king of the octopi was still
+writhing in ever weakening struggles, but the water was halfway up his
+body. "It'll cover him soon," thought the commander, "and then it's a
+question how long it'll take him to come to. I've got to move
+fast&mdash;slip out into the corridor and run the gauntlet back to the
+men." His eyes rested on a large knife, and he appropriated it, since
+he saw nothing else he might use.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time since the beginning of the fight he answered the
+questions and exclamations that had constantly sounded in his ears
+from the distant crew. Tersely he told them what had happened, and of
+the gauntlet he had to run.</p>
+
+<p>"Make ready for a dash to the <i>NX-1</i>," he finished. "It's now or
+never. Wait three minutes for me, and if I don't make it, go ahead
+anyway. Remember&mdash;three minutes. This is an order. So long, fellows!"</p>
+
+<p>He shut his ears to the bedlam of comment that followed. His knife
+ready, he took a few steps to the door and pushed out&mdash;right into the
+tentacles of a waiting octopus.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>is knife was useless. While locked motionless by three arms of his
+captor, another streaked out and wrenched it from his hand. Once again
+Keith was absolutely helpless.</p>
+
+<p>Great confusion resulted in the laboratory. The commander heard no
+sound, but the guard must have called, for five more octopi darted
+rapidly out of an adjoining room. Their tentacles writhing in great
+excitement, they swam past and into the inner chamber to the rescue of
+their nearly drowned king.</p>
+
+<p>The devil-fish that held Wells almost crushed him to death in its
+excitement. It was obviously undecided what to do; but finally it sped
+him down the passageway and cast him back inside the cell with his
+men. Then it quickly retreated.</p>
+
+<p>The commander staggered to his feet and faced Graham and the others.
+"A miracle!" he gasped; "I'll tell you later. But now we've got to
+make our break. The king's out, and we've got to get away before they
+bring him to. There's nothing to do but rush the door. It means sure
+death for half of us, and probably for all&mdash;but God help us if the
+king catches us!"</p>
+
+<p>He paused and surveyed them keenly. "Everybody with me?" he asked. And
+not one man held back his answer.</p>
+
+<p>Wells smiled a little. "Good!" he said.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>here were twelve men and two officers. There were thousands of
+octopi. On the face of it, their chances seemed hopeless. Not for a
+second did Keith count on getting many men to the <i>NX-1.</i> But he knew
+where the submarine was, and he had to try.</p>
+
+<p>Tersely he gave them final instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"This corridor leads to the main entrance. That is, to the
+right&mdash;understand? Then straight down the street outside, to the left,
+is the square where they towed the <i>NX-1.</i> I'd say it was a hundred
+yards.</p>
+
+<p>"There's one guard outside. Graham, you and half the men to the right
+of the door. I'll take the rest to the left. Our only chance is to try
+and destroy the octopus' eyes."</p>
+
+<p>His mind cast about desperately for some form of weapon. The only
+detachable thing on their sea-suits was the small helmet-light, a
+thing, Keith told himself, without possible offensive use. Still, the
+beams would enable them to more clearly see their path and keep
+together, so he ordered them in hand.</p>
+
+<p>The men were grouped and alert. The moment had come.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember," he said, "&mdash;its eyes. Then stick together and run like
+hell. All right&mdash;good luck&mdash;and let's go!"</p>
+
+<p>Awkwardly, stumbling clumsily in the retarding water, the small group
+surged through the door. Immediately a black shape pounced upon them
+from the clustered shadows&mdash;the guarding octopus.</p>
+
+<p>Its tentacles seemed to be everywhere. In seconds five men were
+clutched in its awful grip, their fists rising and falling impotently
+as the hideous arms constricted and crushed them inward. Keith, free
+of the clasp, yelled: "The eyes! The eyes! Put out its eyes!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>or answer, a yellow arm clutching a helmet-light broke through the
+grotesquely milling mass and struck at the cuttlefish's great pools of
+eyes. It missed, but the switch flicked on, and there stabbed through
+the gloom a broad, glaringly white ray.</p>
+
+<p>Its effect was astounding. The beam smote the octopus squarely in its
+huge eyes, and immediately the creature shuddered; writhed with pain.
+The tentacles released the men&mdash;and the monster fled back into the
+protecting shadows!</p>
+
+<p>A shout from the men roared in the commander's earphones. "They can't
+stand the light!" he cried. "Thank God! Beams on, everyone! Flash 'em
+in their eyes! Forward!"</p>
+
+<p>Fourteen shafts of eye-dazzling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> light forked through the corridor.
+The tiny company, beating their path with criss-crossing shafts of
+white, forged ahead. They thrashed the shadows with their beams,
+probing each inch of water&mdash;clearing their way even as a tank hoses
+machine-gun bullets before its clumsy body. Their former slender
+chance grew; they filled with hope.</p>
+
+<p>Another swarm of devil-fish, long arms whipping before them, raced
+from branching corridors and bore down on the company of humans. The
+men were ready, and fourteen tongues of white met them squarely. They
+faltered; the weight of their fellows behind shoved them on; but the
+rays steadied, and the front row of octopi broke in panic. The others
+at once followed in wild retreat.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep together, men!" Keith ordered sharply. "One beam to each
+octopus&mdash;straight in its eyes till it retreats! Forward!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hey pressed on. The octopi, with eyes used only to the soft blue glow
+of the cavern, could not stand against the brilliant rays. Keith
+leading, the <i>NX-1's</i> crew stumbled out into the street.</p>
+
+<p>They faltered a moment when they saw each entrance hole of the
+mound-buildings shooting out streams of octopi. Hundreds were in sight
+already. The whole city was evidently alarmed. Wells at once formed
+his men in a circle, so their beams would guard them on every side and
+above. Apparently the octopi could not approach within thirty feet of
+them, and even at that distance they turned and fled, writhing with
+pain, whenever a shaft of light struck full in their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"The square's just ahead!" the commander roared. "One last rush, now,
+and we'll reach the submarine! Stick close; keep your arms locked; and
+watch out above!"</p>
+
+<p>The circle of men narrowed. The rays gave their tiny cluster the
+appearance of a monster even more fantastic than those moiling around
+them&mdash;a monster with long straight tentacles of glaring white. They
+stumbled forward through the magically parting ranks of black octopi.
+The beams kept the creatures back; they were helpless before them.</p>
+
+<p>Foot by foot under the inverted bowl of threshing tentacles the
+<i>NX-1's</i> crew lumbered ahead. The street at last ceased; the wide
+square opened before them.</p>
+
+<p>"We're here!" Wells yelled exultantly. "This is the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His voice fell into abrupt silence. He stared around the square, and
+his heart went cold indeed. They had reached the right place, but it
+was empty.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>NX-1</i> was not there!</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VIII</h4>
+<h4><i>Cook, the Navigator</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>hrough all these hours, one man had remained on the <i>NX-1</i>, and that
+man was, to put it mildly, scared to death.</p>
+
+<p>Cook Angus McKegnie had been nearest the connecting ladder when Keith
+Wells roared out the command to retreat above, and his desire to
+regain a place of safety was so earnest that he made the control room
+in record time. At once he had felt the tingle of the paralyzing ray.
+Struck by a horrible thought, he ventured to peer down the ladder&mdash;and
+groaned to see the figures of his comrades, all lying limply on the
+deck. His portly frame quivered like jelly as realization came to him
+that he was the only one who had escaped the ray.</p>
+
+<p>Heroic ideas of saving the submarine, of rescuing the men below,
+flashed wildly through his head. But only for a moment. On second
+thought, he felt he ought to hide. So, in the tomblike silence that
+had fallen, the two-hundred-and-twenty-pound McKegnie wormed a way
+behind an instrument panel, effecting the journey by vigorous shoves
+of his stomach. It was minutes later that he first noticed that some
+sharp jutting object was jutting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> deep into his ample paunch, but he
+could do nothing to remedy it. He was hidden, anyway, and he was going
+to stay hidden!</p>
+
+<p>The cook felt the <i>NX-1</i> being towed forward. Then, after a dreadful
+wait, he heard queer noises down below, and was positive the exit
+ports had opened. The snakelike slithering and shuffling which
+followed would mean that the enemy was inside the <i>NX-1.</i> The thought
+brought St. Vitus' dance to his limbs, and, try as he might, he
+couldn't still them. Then again the ports opened, the gloomy silence
+returned, and Angus McKegnie was alone with his reflections.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>fter the first hour he gave voice to them in one simple, bitter
+sentence. "Just why the hell," he muttered, "did I ever join the
+Navy?" The silence offered no reply, and McKegnie, desperate from his
+cramped position, ventured to poke his head around the instrument
+panel. The faint emergency lights showed the control room to be empty.
+He decided to come out, and did so, worming his way back with great
+difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>Once out, the first thing his eyes fell on was the teleview screen.
+Now the cook had never seen one of the octopi, and the screen showed
+hundreds of monsters clustering around the <i>NX-1.</i> So with unusual
+promptness he acted, jamming himself once again into his hiding place.
+Maybe, he thought, they had some way in which they could see into the
+control room and discover him!</p>
+
+<p>Hours passed. The cook was sopping with sweat. Finally his thoughts
+emerged into words.</p>
+
+<p>"I got to get out of here!" he said intensely. "I <i>got</i> to! And I got
+to run this submarine!"</p>
+
+<p>The sound of his voice somehow emboldened him. Once more he backed out
+of his cranny, and with cautious, trembling steps explored the control
+room. He kept his eyes from the teleview, though it had a terrible
+fascination for him, and surveyed the <i>NX-1's</i> array of control
+instruments. The prospective navigator groaned at the sight.</p>
+
+<p>There were dozens of mysterious wheels, jutting from every possible
+angle, squads of black and red-handled levers, whole armies of queer
+little stud-buttons and dials. His knowledge of cooking helped him not
+at all in the presence of that maze of devices. Timidly he touched one
+of the levers, but immediately snatched his hand away as if afraid it
+would bite. His boldly announced purpose of running the craft went
+glimmering.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n accidental glimpse of the monsters in the teleview suddenly decided
+him that he needed a weapon. He hunted frantically through the lockers
+and found three service revolvers, which he fastened at his waist,
+adding his own carving knife to the arsenal. But he didn't feel much
+better. Then, remembering for the first time his sea-suit radio, he
+yelled: "Mr. Wells! Mr. Wells! Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you? Can you
+hear me?" There was, of course, no answer.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to bring his muddled thoughts and fears to order. "I got to
+run this thing," he said doggedly. "<i>Got</i> to! Now, let's see: what the
+hell's this thing for?... What the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off short, and his eyes went wide. He had heard a noise!</p>
+
+<p>Yes&mdash;there it was again! The same peculiar scraping at one of the exit
+ports! He glanced fearfully at the teleview. "Oh, Lord!" he yelped.
+"They're comin' in to get me!"</p>
+
+<p>He started to dive back behind the instrument panel, but stopped, drew
+two guns, and in an agonized muddle trotted back and forth for a
+moment, waving them. Another look at the screen showed that an exit
+port was open, admitting two metal-scaled octopi. McKegnie couldn't
+stand it any longer: he wedged himself behind his panel again. Soon
+sounds of the metal tentacles on the deck below told him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> that one of
+the creatures was coming up the ramp&mdash;then slithering into the control
+room itself. The cook was a lather of cold perspiration.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes there was silence. The octopus was apparently
+surveying this new part of the submarine. Then, without warning, the
+tip of a metal-scaled tentacle felt around the panel and crept,
+exploring, up Angus McKegnie's leg&mdash;which leg was again suddenly
+afflicted with St. Vitus' dance. The tentacles coiled, pulled
+hard&mdash;and the cook with a yowl was yanked out into the room.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>angling upside down, high in the air, he submitted to the fishy stare
+of the great eyes under the sheathing of glass. But soon he started to
+squirm, and his violent contortions brought a rush of blood to his
+head, making him quite dizzy. It was while he was in that state that
+things started to happen.</p>
+
+<p>First, a great roar rolled through the <i>NX-1</i>, and McKegnie found
+himself flat on the floor with his breath knocked out. Then, while
+this was registering on his mind, he discovered himself the center of
+a madly milling set of tentacles, and instinctively scrambled out of
+the way. From a distance he saw that the tentacles belonged to the
+octopus that had held him, and that their coilings and threshings were
+gradually dying down, until only a quiver ran through them from time
+to time. While McKegnie was trying to figure this all out he noticed
+that the monster's glass sheeting was shattered, that it lay in a pool
+of water, and that the odor of burnt powder was in the air. Looking
+down he found that he had a gun in his hand. A thin wisp of smoke was
+curling from the barrel.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee whiz!" he ejaculated. "Gee <i>whiz</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>As he stood there recovering from his surprise, he heard the other
+octopus crawling up the connecting ramp, coming to see what had
+befallen its fellow. Preceded by two trembling guns, McKegnie tiptoed
+to the ramp and peered down.</p>
+
+<p>From the darkness he saw another complicated mass of metal tentacles
+and glass advancing up towards him. Fear smote the cook, and almost
+without volition be pointed his guns and pulled the triggers. As
+before, a bullet crashed into the great dome of glass, and he watched
+a short but terrible death struggle. He had, by himself, slain two
+octopi!</p>
+
+<p>A tremendous elation filled McKegnie&mdash;until it occurred to him that
+his shots might have been heard outside. At once he ran and looked at
+the teleview view screen, and what he saw on its silver surface took
+all the triumph abruptly out of him. The octopi outside were darting
+about with alarming activity; a whole cluster of them was centered at
+the exit port, and, even as the cook stared, the preliminary sounds of
+opening it came to his ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I <i>got</i> to run this ship!" he groaned.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e peered at the mass of levers and wheels, put out a hand, closed his
+eyes, hesitated, and pulled one of them back. Nothing happened.</p>
+
+<p>He tried another. The noise below grew, but still the <i>NX-1</i> remained
+motionless. Desperate, the cook jerked several other levers. The whine
+of electric motors surged through the silence; the submarine shuddered
+and slewed off to the right, as if trying to dig into the sea-floor.</p>
+
+<p>"I got it started!" he cried. He did something else. The <i>NX-1</i> stuck
+her bow dizzily up and sped into the misty-blue realm above in a
+grand, sweeping circle. The sea-floor with its mound-buildings and
+swarming octopi fell away behind with a rush.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" muttered the triumphant cook. "But&mdash;how did I do it?"</p>
+
+<p>The submarine was rising like a sky-rocket. McKegnie remembered
+suddenly that Wells had said the cavern was only a few miles high; he
+must now be very near the top. He held his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> breath while he pushed a
+likely looking lever the other way.</p>
+
+<p>He was lucky. The <i>NX-1</i> capered like a two-year-old, kicked up her
+stern and bolted eagerly for the depths once more. Again the floor of
+the cavern rushed up at him, again he pulled the potent lever back,
+and again the submarine meteored upward.</p>
+
+<p>This procedure went on for some time. McKegnie was only running an
+elevator. Was he doomed to dash up and down between floor and ceiling
+forever? He gave forth pints of sweat, now and then groaning as the
+submarine grazed horribly close to top or bottom. The dead octopus at
+his feet slithered limply around on the crazy-angling deck.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't keep this up forever!" the cook said peevishly. "Now, what
+the hell's this thing for?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e turned it, and the <i>NX-1</i> tilted in one of her dives and raced
+forward, midway between ceiling and floor. Her navigator relaxed
+slightly. He had found the major controls; at least he had been able
+to stop his dizzy game of plunging up and down. Then, just as he was
+beginning to wonder where he could go, a large red spot glowed at the
+edge of the location chart.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lord!" he cried. "That's the other submarine&mdash;an' it's comin'
+after me!"</p>
+
+<p>Evidently it was, for the red spot rapidly approached the green one.
+The paralyzing ray tingled, and a moment later the enemy's huge bulk
+loomed on the teleview screen, a band of violet light spearing from
+one of her jutting knobs.</p>
+
+<p>Frantically McKegnie juggled his levers, and then it was that the
+<i>NX-1</i> really showed what was in her. She emulated, on a grand scale,
+a bucking bronco: she stood almost on her nose, and threatened to
+describe somersaults; she tried it the other way, on her stern; she
+rolled dizzily; she all but looped the loop, and went staggering
+around the cavern in great erratic bounds that must have made the
+octopi think she was in the hands of a mad-man&mdash;which she practically
+was. Her designer would have had heart failure.</p>
+
+<p>In the teleview screen the frantic McKegnie would see the octopi
+submarine rush erratically by with a flash of its violet heat ray; the
+location chart showed the red spot zigzagging drunkenly around the
+green one. Each boat made occasional short, crazy darts at the other;
+sometimes they would stand approximately still. It was a riotous game
+of tag, and McKegnie knew too well that he was "it."</p>
+
+<p>During one brief pause the anguished cook found himself groaning
+aloud: "Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you? I can't keep this up! I can't! I
+can't!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>here were still several important-looking controls that were
+mysteries to him. But what if he should pull one and open all the exit
+ports? He shuddered at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>Things had become nightmarish. The ship was pitted scores of places by
+the heat ray. The control room had grown stifling. McKegnie was losing
+pounds of flesh, and literally stood in a pool of his own
+perspiration. The octopi craft kept doggedly after the <i>NX-1</i>, no
+matter how often and effectually the sweating cook's reckless hands
+prevented her getting the heat ray home.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time the two ships continued to race up and down. The
+<i>NX-1</i> would plunge, pirouette around the other, and scamper away
+towards the ceiling as if enjoying it all hugely, abruptly to forsake
+her course and come zooming down once more. She would weave in romping
+circles and seem to go utterly crazy as her jumbled navigator pulled
+his levers and turned his wheels in a frantic effort to get somewhere.</p>
+
+<p>To get somewhere! Yes&mdash;but where?</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you?" the harried cook would bleat at
+intervals.</p>
+
+<p>Or, plaintively: "Now, what the hell's <i>this</i> thing for?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER IX</h4>
+<h4><i>At Bay</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+<p>ourteen humans stood at bay on the cold sea-floor, dazed by the
+ruthless stroke of ill-luck which had taken the <i>NX-1</i> from where they
+had left it.</p>
+
+<p>"It's gone," whispered Graham over and over in a hopeless tone. Keith
+tried to pull himself together. He had to think of his men.</p>
+
+<p>In a second, his whole plan, which had seemed to be approaching
+success so rapidly, was smashed by the disappearance of the submarine.
+Mechanically he kept his helmet-light playing into the ever-thickening
+eyes and tentacles around him, while he scanned the sea-floor nearby.
+It was filling more closely than ever with the black, writhing forms
+of the cuttlefish. The rays still held them back, but their great bulk
+loomed over the small party of humans like a sinister storm cloud.
+Soon, in their overwhelming mass, they would crush down, and the
+submarine's crew be conquered by sheer force of numbers.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" Keith cried. "There's where she was lying!"</p>
+
+<p>He pointed out on the floor of the square a deep groove, obviously
+made by the hull of the <i>NX-1</i>. Its length and jaggedness seemed to
+denote that the submarine had tried to bore into the bed of the cavern
+itself. Wells was mystified. If the octopi-ship had towed her away,
+she would certainly not have gouged that deep scar on the sea
+bottom....</p>
+
+<p>But he dismissed the strange disappearance from his mind. He had to
+work out a plan of action.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep together, men, and follow that scar!" he ordered tersely.
+"There's a chance that the <i>NX-1's</i> somewhere further along!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a futile hope, he knew&mdash;but there was nothing else. The tiny
+group, centered in the inverted bowl of black, writhing tentacles,
+lumbered onward.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>hen the octopi struck with another weapon, in an effort to dull the
+spearing beams of white. Here and there from the mass of black an even
+blacker cloud began to emerge. It quickly settled over the whole
+scene, pervading it with a pitchy, clinging darkness that obscured
+each man from his neighbor.</p>
+
+<p>"Ink!" cried one of them. It was sepia from the cuttlefish's ink
+sacs&mdash;the weapon with which these monsters of the underseas blind and
+confuse their victims.</p>
+
+<p>"Faster!" the commander roared in answer. "And for heaven's sake, keep
+together!"</p>
+
+<p>They huddled closer. Under the protecting cloud of ink the mass of
+octopi pressed nearer. The struggle became fantastic, unreal, as the
+brilliant beams of white bored through the utter blackness searching
+for eyes which the men knew were there, yet could not see until their
+rays chanced upon them. Snaky shadows milled horribly close to the
+little group of bulging yellow figures. Blacker and blacker grew the
+water; they could not always see the monsters as they drove them back
+on each side. Now and then a bold tentacle actually touched one of
+them for a moment before its owner was thrust, blinded, away.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the dark cloud cleared a little as the fight moved into an
+unseen current. Their range of vision lengthened to ten or twelve
+feet; they could dimly sense the looming mass of cuttlefish: and it
+was less often that one of the monsters darted forward, daring the
+rays of white, and became altogether visible. When this did happen,
+half a dozen dazzling beams converged on the octopus' eyes and drove
+it back in writhing agony.</p>
+
+<p>The men were the hub of a grotesque cartwheel, whose spokes were
+inter-crossing rays of white. They still forged onward along the
+groove, but moved more slowly now, and Keith Wells, tired to death,
+realized the combat could not go on much longer. Their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> advance was
+useless; a mere jest. The <i>NX-1</i> had vanished. It would only be a
+question of time before their batteries gave out, or the swarms of
+octopi crushed in on the struggling crew. Their overwhelming numbers
+would tell in the end.... The men were silent, except for the
+occasional gasps which came from their laboring lungs.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>nd then the king of the octopi appeared.</p>
+
+<p>Keith had been wondering, in the aching turmoil that was his brain,
+where the gold-banded monarch was. He knew the monster had been
+rescued, and he dreaded coming face to face once more with that huge
+form. Now, armlets of glittering yellow suddenly flashed in the thick
+of the besieging tentacles, and two great evil eyes glared for a
+second at Keith Wells. The commander flung a burst of light at them
+and laughed crazily as the monster scurried back. For a few moments
+the king was not visible.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, fellows," Wells said, "it won't be long now. His Majesty's back
+on the field." He grinned a little through his weary face. "I wonder
+what he'll hatch up to combat our helmet-lights? Watch close: he's
+damn clever!"</p>
+
+<p>The commander did not have long to wonder. The vague wall of tentacles
+began retreating deeper into the ink. Keith could not imagine the
+reason for it, but held himself taut and ready. His men, likewise
+noting the move, unconsciously grouped closer, waiting tensely for
+they knew not what.</p>
+
+<p>The king of the octopi had indeed hatched a plan of attack. After a
+moment the mass of creatures again became slowly visible, but this
+time when the rays shot out they did not hold them back. Could
+not&mdash;for their eyes were not visible.</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" Wells cried. "They're coming backwards!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t was so. The octopi&mdash;no doubt under their ruler's orders&mdash;had turned
+themselves around, and now, with eyes directly away from the dazzling
+shafts of white, were closing slowly in on the humans from all sides.
+The helmet-lights were useless. They could not reach the creatures'
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Tentacles coiling, whipping, interweaving, the wall of flesh pressed
+in. Death stared the helpless crew of the <i>NX-1</i> in the face. First
+Officer Graham shrugged his shoulders and said tiredly:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess it's all over.... Unless," he added with a feeble
+smile, "somebody figures a way to melt us through the sea-floor...."</p>
+
+<p>Keith Wells' face suddenly lit up with an idea. He swung around and
+roared:</p>
+
+<p>"The hell it's over! We can go <i>up</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>His crew understood at once. "What fools we&mdash;" Graham began, but Keith
+cut him short.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," he rapped quickly. "Jam together in one bunch and lock arms
+tight. When I give the word, flood your suits with air. We'll go up
+like comets; crash right through the devils.... Hurry!... All ready?"</p>
+
+<p>He saw that they were. "Then, together&mdash;go!" he commanded.</p>
+
+<p>As one man the crew adjusted their air-controls, bulging the sea-suits
+with air. Their weighted feet left the cavern floor at once, and,
+locked tightly together, the whole fourteen of them shot like a bullet
+to the living ceiling of unsuspecting cuttlefish above.</p>
+
+<p>They hit with a terrific crash. Keith was momentarily stunned by the
+force of impact. He felt himself torn away from his men, felt a dozen
+tentacles snake over him, and mechanically stabbed out with his
+helmet-light. For a moment he was held; then the air and his light
+pulled him through, and he broke out through the top.</p>
+
+<p>In his rocketing upward progress the extra oxygen rapidly cleared his
+mind. Glancing below he saw a great, dark, many-fingered cloud
+dropping rapidly away, and was glad to know that the octopi could not
+follow him into the lesser pressures above without their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> suits. Over
+the dark cloud he glimpsed a few scattered pin-points of light&mdash;the
+helmet-beams of the other men. They were rising as swiftly as he.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" he murmured reverently. "We broke through! We broke
+through!"</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER X</h4>
+<h4><i>The Return of the Wanderer</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+<p>ells watched the several helmet-lights shooting upwards and wondered
+if they represented all the men that had got safely through the net of
+tentacles. Remembering the rocky ceiling they were rapidly
+approaching, he ordered the others to reduce speed by discharging air
+from their sea-suits. He received no articulate answer.</p>
+
+<p>Although he cut down the rush of his own progress, it was with a jar
+that he bounded into the top of the cavern. As he dangled there, he
+beheld four light beams hurtling upward; his earphones registered
+crash after crash: and then he saw the beams go spinning down into the
+gloom again, weaving and crossing fantastically, the shock having
+jerked them from their owner's hands. Keith had lost his own
+helmet-light below, but peering around he could make out a few vague
+forms, bumping and twisting in the current.</p>
+
+<p>"Graham!" the commander called. "Graham, you there?" After a moment
+his first officer's voice came thickly back.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;here. A bit groggy. That crash...." Wells swam clumsily towards
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess only a few of us broke through," the commander said slowly.
+As the two officers hung at the roof, swinging grotesquely, one by one
+the other men came to their senses and reported their presence in the
+radiophone. Keith ordered them to cluster around him, and soon eight
+weird figures had grouped nearby. After a while they located two
+others, which brought their total to ten men and two officers. They
+looked a long time, but could not find any more. Two were gone.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>eep silence fell over the tiny group. The dark mass of the rocky
+ceiling scraped their helmets; below, the bluish waters tapered into a
+thick gloom, hiding, miles beneath, the mound-buildings and swarming
+octopi.</p>
+
+<p>One of the men spoke. His words were audible to everyone, and they
+voiced the thought in every brain:</p>
+
+<p>"What're we going to do now?"</p>
+
+<p>Keith had no answer. They had escaped the immediate danger, but it was
+only a temporary respite. The commander knew it was hopeless to try
+and locate the tunnel leading to the outer sea, for they were very
+tired, and in their clumsy suits they would be able to swim only a few
+rods. Their helmet-lights were gone; they had played their last card.</p>
+
+<p>"They're goin' to find us after a while," the pessimistic voice
+continued. "They'll send that submarine of theirs after us&mdash;or maybe
+they'll come up in their metal suits...."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Keith replied with forced cheerfulness, "then we'll have to
+fight 'em off."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not rip our suits an' end it now&mdash;" began another, but Graham's
+voice cut in sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Quiet!" he said. "I heard something!"</p>
+
+<p>The men stilled abruptly. In tense silence their ears strained at the
+headphones. Wells asked: "What did you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" Graham interrupted, listening intently. "There it is again!
+Listen! Can't you hear it? Why, it sounded like&mdash;like&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Keith concentrated his whole mind on listening, but could catch
+nothing at all. He was just about to give up when he caught a faint,
+jumbled murmur&mdash;the murmur of a human voice.</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" he whispered. The voice, little by little, grew, and Wells
+could distinguish words. They formed into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> a complete sentence. Keith
+heard it plainly. It was:</p>
+
+<p>"Now, what the hell's this thing for?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_u.jpg" alt="U" width="49" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>nmistakably, it was the voice of Cook Angus McKegnie, whom they all
+had thought dead.</p>
+
+<p>Amazed, the men of the crew started to jabber. "Quiet!" Wells ordered
+sharply. He listened again. McKegnie's voice was growing quickly and
+steadily louder.</p>
+
+<p>"McKegnie!" the commander cried excitedly. "McKegnie, can you hear
+me?" There was no answer. Patiently Wells waited a minute, every
+second of which increased the volume of his long-lost cook's
+bewildered tones. Again he tried.</p>
+
+<p>"McKegnie! Can you hear me? This is Commander Wells. McKegnie!"</p>
+
+<p>The cook's stammering voice came back:</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why&mdash;is that you, Mr. Wells? Did I hear you, Mr. Wells?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" Keith shouted impatiently. "This is Commander Wells! For
+heaven's sake, McKegnie, where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir!" the cook responded. "Where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Keith was for the moment perplexed. "But&mdash;but, are you a prisoner?" he
+questioned. And he could have sworn he heard a distinct note of pride
+as the invisible McKegnie replied: "Oh, no, sir! Not yet! These devils
+been tryin' their best to get me, but they couldn't! No, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>Wells became more and more puzzled. "Then&mdash;but&mdash;you're not running the
+<i>NX-1</i>, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>McKegnie's voice was much louder now, and growing every second. The
+note of pride persisted. "Of course, sir!" he confirmed. "It was kind
+of hard at first, with these octopises botherin' me, but I got onto it
+pretty quick. That octopis ship chased me with them heat rays for a
+long time, but I ain't seen them lately. I guess I kinda tired them
+out."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>is last words grew louder with a rush, and from the dark depths
+beneath a long shape suddenly appeared, hurtling up at the group of
+astounded men in a zoom that bade fair to take it straight through the
+ceiling. It was the <i>NX-1</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Dive, man, dive!" Keith yelled. "Cook, pull that black-handled lever
+towards you! Yank it back! Yank it back! Quick!" He sighed with relief
+as he saw his madly-driven submarine pause, whip its nose downward,
+and crash back for the depths from which it had come.</p>
+
+<p>The commander spoke rapidly. "McKegnie, listen: Leave the black lever
+halfway, so you'll level out. Straighten your helm. We're only a
+little above you; come round in a circle till I tell you to stop."</p>
+
+<p>The <i>NX-1</i> came out of her dive, and, as the cook evidently shoved her
+helm over, went skirting around in a wide, drunken circle, some
+thousand feet below her regular crew.</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" Keith shouted. The fear that the octopi submarine would
+dart back before he could get aboard his ship was looming in his mind.
+"You're at the helm, Cook; there's a wheel right over your head. Spin
+it around&mdash;oh, my God, there you go again!" He groaned while the
+<i>NX-1</i> went swooping off on a repetition of her crazy circle.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, sir," the culinary navigator said thickly. "I guess I got the
+wrong thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Now!" Wells roared. "Spin that wheel above your head.... That's
+right&mdash;right&mdash;there! Don't touch a thing, Cook! We're coming down."</p>
+
+<p>The submarine had paused directly beneath them, listing slightly to
+port. Then began the cautious business of the descent. Under Wells'
+rapid orders the men linked arms again and discharged more air from
+their sea-suits. Slowly, thin chains of bubbles rising behind them,
+they sank towards the dim shape of the <i>NX-1</i> below. Wells'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> eyes kept
+probing the thick gloom far beneath. Every moment he expected to see
+it disgorge a swarm of octopi.</p>
+
+<p>They neared the submarine, and saw numberless pitted spots in her
+body, where the heat ray had stabbed for a moment. In their excitement
+they missed their level by some feet, but clutching together they
+admitted more air and soon rose even with the starboard exit port.</p>
+
+<p>"Swim forward," Keith ordered. "Hurry!" The weird figures groped
+clumsily, and very slowly neared the port. The commander, in the van,
+at last reached out and gripped its jutting external controls. He
+could not work them at first: his hands were numb and awkward.</p>
+
+<p>As he tugged and struggled with them a shout rang in his headphone. It
+was McKegnie, scared to death.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hurry, Mr. Wells!" he yelled. "Quick! Quick, please! The octopis
+ship's comin', sir! The red light's back!"</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER XI</h4>
+<h4><i>To the Death</i></h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>he emergency steadied Keith's fingers. He got the door open and
+motioned Graham and six men inside the water chamber. The passage took
+but a minute. Then he sent the rest of the crew in, being himself the
+last to enter. When the chamber was finally empty, and Wells had
+stepped through the inner door onto the lower deck of the <i>NX-1</i>, a
+great sigh of relief broke from him. Never before had anything looked
+so good as that brilliantly lit deck with its familiar maze of
+machinery and bulkheads.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God," he said simply, and his joy was shared by the whole crew.
+A new feeling had come over them. Back home&mdash;in their own submarine,
+their own element&mdash;they had at least a fighting chance with the
+octopi. But Keith let them waste no time. He knew that a final,
+desperate duel to the death with their foe still was ahead. "Above to
+the control room," he ordered. "Fast!"</p>
+
+<p>They lumbered up the connecting ramp. A disheveled, wild-eyed form met
+them. Keith couldn't help chuckling as he passed the now much thinner
+and paler cook, with the arsenal handy at his waist. On the deck of
+the control room lay a huge tentacled body, metal-scaled, with its
+dome of glass shattered and its great cold eyes staring unseeingly
+away. "I killed him," stammered McKegnie pridefully; "but Mr.
+Wells&mdash;look at that red light, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>Keith glanced rapidly at the location chart, ripping off his sea-suit
+as he did. The fateful red stud was moving swiftly down on the
+motionless green one. The men had surrounded McKegnie, laughing and
+slapping him on the back, but the commander's terse orders jerked them
+abruptly back to action.</p>
+
+<p>"The rectifiers, Graham: clean out this stale air. Sea-suits off; at
+emergency posts. Take the helm, Craig; you, Wetherby, trim the ship.
+No, no, Cook&mdash;keep away from the controls!"</p>
+
+<p>The <i>NX-1</i> balanced herself; fresh air came rushing in, sweeping out
+the stale. Keith stared at the location chart, waiting for the
+submarine to be ready. The red light was almost upon them.</p>
+
+<p>"Right!" he roared at last. "Diving rudder controls, Graham! Full
+speed for the tunnel!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t that moment the octopi ship swept into view, its full battery of
+offensive weapons flaring forth. The paralyzing ray tingled again and
+again over the control room. Someone laughed at its uselessness. The
+violet heat ray leveled full at them, but the commander avoided it
+with "Port ten, starboard ten! Maintain zigzag course to the tunnel."
+He understood the enemy's weapons now; he was throbbing with the
+fierce thrill of action. This duel was to be the climax of their whole
+adventure. "And, by heaven," he promised, "it's going to be a fight!"</p>
+
+<p>The other craft seemed to realize the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> <i>NX-1</i> was now in expert hands.
+She raced along to starboard for some minutes, her heat ray trying
+vainly to steady on the American's weaving form. Wells wondered if the
+king of the octopi was aboard her, in command; he thought perhaps the
+ship had postponed her chase of McKegnie to pick him up. "I hope he
+is!" the commander breathed, and fingered the torpedo lever. He had
+some debts to pay.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>NX-1</i>, engines working smoothly, proceeded on a desperate dash
+for the tunnel that led to the outer sea. But the octopi ship
+apparently knew what Keith intended, for she abandoned her offensive
+rays, changed course a few degrees and slowly but steadily pulled
+ahead. "Damn!" Keith exclaimed. "She'll get there before us!"</p>
+
+<p>The dim shape dwindled on the screen, and before long her bulk had
+disappeared entirely. Wells then could watch her swift, straight
+progress only on the location chart.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>en minutes later the funnel-like opening of the tunnel loomed on the
+teleview, and squarely in front, blocking it, was the waiting form of
+the octopi submarine.</p>
+
+<p>"Quarter speed!" Keith snapped. "Hold her steady, Graham; I'm going to
+try a bow torpedo. I think we're beyond their ray."</p>
+
+<p>Sighting his range on the telescopic range-finder, he worked the
+<i>NX-1</i> slowly into position. He noticed that his first officer was
+staring oddly at him. He was bothered by the queer look. "What's
+wrong?" he asked impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;what about Hemmy Bowman?"</p>
+
+<p>Bowman! In the rush of action and suspense, Keith Wells had completely
+forgotten his officer in the enemy submarine. "Oh, God!" he groaned.
+The cruel situation that had stayed his hand once before had again
+come to falter his course of action. The men were watching him; Graham
+had a question in his eyes. They all knew what had to be decided....</p>
+
+<p>Keith shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. It was his greater duty to
+destroy the octopi submarine. And yet&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Fish for Hemmy, Sparks," he ordered. "Craig, keep present distance
+from enemy. Full stop."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later the radio operator looked up. "Mr. Bowman on the
+phones, sir." With a heavy weight on his heart the commander clipped
+on the extension headphones.</p>
+
+<p>"Hemmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Keith? Keith? Thank God you're alive!" Bowman's voice shook with
+gladness. "You're all back on the <i>NX-1</i>, Keith? The whole crew's with
+you? Oh, Lord, it's good to hear you again!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We got back all right, Hemmy&mdash;a miracle. They've still got you
+prisoner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes.... Keith&mdash;you're trying to dodge out of the tunnel, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ells smiled bitterly, and as he paused to frame an answer Bowman
+spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to blow up this submarine, Keith," he said quickly. "A
+favor to me."</p>
+
+<p>He cut Wells short when the commander started to interrupt. "Wait! Let
+me finish," he pleaded. "I want to explain. I'd been hoping&mdash;but never
+mind that.... Keith, a while ago I managed to work loose. I lost my
+head completely and tackled these devils. It was a foolish thing to
+do; they overcame me, naturally. But, in the struggle, they tore my
+sea-suit."</p>
+
+<p>"What!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, just a tiny tear, or I wouldn't have lasted till now. But a leak
+all the same&mdash;in the right leg. Since then I've been gripping the
+edges of the fabric as tightly as I can&mdash;but I couldn't keep the water
+inside this ship from seeping through. It came in slowly at first,
+then faster as my hands grew numb. It's up to my neck now, Keith ...
+and&mdash;it won't be long! I've just a few minutes left...."</p>
+
+<p>The faint words tapered into silence.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" roared Keith in a great rush<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> of emotion. But Hemmy's eager
+voice came right back:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you must! It would be a mercy to kill me, Keith."</p>
+
+<p>There were tears in the commander's eyes. "Are you sure, Hemmy?" he
+asked. "Are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. It would be a mercy."</p>
+
+<p>Wells' lips formed a straight grim line. His words squeezed through it
+tightly. "All right, Hemmy. Thanks. Thanks. I&mdash;I'll go after them now,
+old man. I'll try and keep in touch with you through the duel, but
+I&mdash;I can't promise&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He could almost see Hemingway Bowman give his old familiar smile as he
+answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Then so long, Keith!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ommander Keith Wells studied the teleview screen. The men were half
+afraid to look at his strained blanched face.</p>
+
+<p>Repeatedly the violet beam speared through the water, reaching for the
+<i>NX-1's</i> bow.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn ship. Line up for stern torpedoes," the commander ordered
+harshly. He realized he could not hold his submarine steady to obtain
+a perfect sight, for the heat ray needed only thirty seconds to melt
+through their shell. He would have to swing the ship slowly about;
+and, as the shape of the enemy crossed the hair-lines on the
+range-finder, unleash his torpedoes and gamble on hitting the moving
+target.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>NX-1</i> swung around, always maintaining a slight forward motion
+and zigzagging constantly to nullify the heat beam. Wells watched the
+range-finder closely. The octopi ship slanted downwards, the deadly
+violet ray stabbing from her bow. Slowly the black dot that
+represented her appeared on the dial, and slowly it dropped towards
+the crossed lines that showed the perfect firing point.</p>
+
+<p>Keith grasped the torpedo lever. The <i>NX-1's</i> stern was towards her
+target. Dead silence hung in the control room. The <i>NX-1</i> swung
+slightly. The octopi craft appeared directly in the middle of the
+dial.</p>
+
+<p>Wells pulled back the lever.</p>
+
+<p>The hiss of compressed air sprang from her stern. He had fired two
+tubes, his whole stock of stern torpedoes. The pair of dreadful
+weapons leaped out and settled on their course. Keith shot his gaze to
+the teleview.</p>
+
+<p>The torpedoes missed. Only by feet, but a miss all the same. They
+raced on past the octopi submarine and, with a tremendous, ear-numbing
+explosion, burst on the wall of the cavern beyond. Both ships reeled
+from the shock. Graham swore viciously, but Wells' masklike face
+showed no slightest change of expression....</p>
+
+<p>A voice rang in Keith's headphones. "Tough, Keith! Better luck next
+time!" Then the commander winced. He simply could not answer Hemmy
+Bowman; could not answer that fine, brave voice....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he stern torpedoes were gone. The tubes could not be reloaded, for
+the paralyzing ray bound the men to the control room. That left them
+two torpedoes in the bow.</p>
+
+<p>The violet heat ray kept fingering hungrily on their outer hull, and
+every man knew that the plates were weakening under the steady strain,
+which was only lessened by the <i>NX-1's</i> constant zigzagging. The
+control room was very hot. Both ships were now a full mile from the
+tunnel entrance. Keith plunged the <i>NX-1</i> down, swung her around, to
+bring his bow tubes to bear, and zigzagged upwards.</p>
+
+<p>It was obvious that the octopi craft had been alarmed by the terrific
+explosion. They now adopted tactics similar to the American ship's,
+and for awhile both submarines circled cautiously, maneuvering for an
+opening.</p>
+
+<p>"If only we could keep the ship steady!" Graham muttered. "But then
+that heat ray'd get us!"</p>
+
+<p>The commander kept his eyes on the teleview. Again and again the
+violet shaft pronged at them. The heat grew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> stifling. Sweat was
+pouring from all the men's bodies. Every face was strained and taut.</p>
+
+<p>"Starboard full!" Wells said suddenly. "A little up, Graham!" He had
+seen a chance; the octopi craft was slightly above, and in a moment
+would pass directly in the line of the bow tubes. The <i>NX-1</i> stuck her
+nose up, swung rapidly to the right. Keith pulled back the firing
+lever, releasing one torpedo.</p>
+
+<p>The long messenger of death hurtled straight for the enemy's hull.
+They watched its course breathlessly....</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" the first officer groaned. "Could they see it coming?" For
+the octopi submarine had swung to one side, neatly dodging the
+speeding tube of dynamite.</p>
+
+<p>"One left!" he added bitterly. "One left!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; desperate plan formed in Keith Wells' mind. His last torpedo simply
+had to strike the mark; he could take no chances with it. He motioned
+the haggard-faced Graham to him.</p>
+
+<p>"There's only one thing left to do," he said quietly. "We've got to
+deliberately face that heat ray; chance its puncturing our plates."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Get in very close, so as to make our last torpedo sure to hit. We've
+got to approach the enemy head-on at full speed. We'll corkscrew up to
+them until we get within two hundred yards, then go straight forward
+for ten or fifteen seconds, giving us the opportunity to sight the
+remaining torpedo directly on them. The heat ray may break through
+before I fire&mdash;but when I do fire it's a sure hit."</p>
+
+<p>The men had heard every word. Quietly Wells ordered:</p>
+
+<p>"Take the torpedo control, Graham. I'll take the helm."</p>
+
+<p>The first officer obeyed without a word. Keith grasped the helm. The
+plans were made for their last desperate attempt.</p>
+
+<p>"Right," the commander said shortly. "Here we go."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>here had been a taut silence before, but now, knowing that they were
+deliberately offering themselves a perfect target for the heat ray in
+order to get their last torpedo home, the intensity was almost
+unbearable. The men felt like shrieking, jumping&mdash;doing anything to
+break the awful hush. The air was charged with the same unnameable
+something that heralds a typhoon.</p>
+
+<p>Keith Wells was like a white statue at the helm, save for the
+betraying trickles of sweat that coursed down his drawn cheeks. His
+hands moved the wheel slowly from port to starboard; his eyes bored at
+the screen before him. The ship was in command of a man of steel, a
+man with but one purpose....</p>
+
+<p>"Up&mdash;up," he ordered. "Hold&mdash;in trim&mdash;full speed forward!"</p>
+
+<p>He had brought the <i>NX-1</i> directly in line with the octopi ship. And
+now the craft leaped forward under full power, while he shot the helm
+back and forth ceaselessly. His ship was describing a corkscrewing
+motion, weaving straight at the enemy. Grasping her opportunity, the
+octopi submarine remained motionless, steadily dousing the approaching
+American craft with her silent violet ray and driving the temperature
+in the control room to even greater heights.</p>
+
+<p>The distance between them rapidly lessened. Would the plates stand it?
+Would the ray melt through the weakened steel before he could fire?
+With an effort Keith drove these doubts from his mind ... but he could
+not banish a certain dull, steady ache from his consciousness....</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he range dwindled. The heat became intolerable. Everyone's clothing
+was sopping wet. A man ripped off his shirt, gasping for air. Wells
+kept his eyes on the screen, though half-blinded by smarting sweat.
+The plates had to give soon, he knew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The octopi submarine, beam on and dead ahead, began to move to port at
+quickly increasing speed. At once Keith stopped swinging the helm, and
+the <i>NX-1's</i> corkscrewing motion of protection ceased. And then came
+the real test, the gauntlet of seconds.</p>
+
+<p>Right straight into the retreating violet beam they went, at top
+speed. They gained rapidly. The heat was furnace-like. The commander,
+watching the range-finder, kept moving the helm slightly over. A shaft
+of violet heat spanned the two shells of metal. For ten seconds it had
+held on the <i>NX-1</i>. The black dot of the enemy craft moved slowly to
+exact center on the dial. Fifteen seconds ... twenty ...
+twenty-three&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!"</p>
+
+<p>Graham jammed the torpedo lever back.</p>
+
+<p>"Crash dive!"</p>
+
+<p>The deck tilted downward. And Wells' white lips formed the words, "So
+long, Hemmy!"&mdash;and he tore the phones from his head.</p>
+
+<p>Seconds later a titanic explosion sounded through the cavern; echoed
+and re-echoed in vasty roars. The American craft's lights went
+off&mdash;but not before her men had seen, in the teleview, a fire-shot
+maelstrom where a moment before the octopi submarine had been.</p>
+
+<p>"We got them!" yelled Graham.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; roar of exultation burst from every throat. The men flung their arms
+out, jumped, yelled crazily. Faint emergency lights lit the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"Below, at regular posts," Wells ordered. "Reload bow and stern tubes.
+Graham, see to the lights." He himself remained at the helm. In a few
+moments the submarine had climbed back to the level of the tunnel. At
+quarter speed she nosed into the wide entrance, and slowly forged into
+the dense, deceptive shadows.</p>
+
+<p>The commander acted mechanically. Again by touch he steered his ship
+through the black, ragged cleft. Fifteen minutes after leaving the
+cavern of the octopi her bow poked through the weaving kelp into the
+free, salty depths of the Atlantic Ocean.</p>
+
+<p>There was one more task to perform, and Wells lost no time in doing
+it. When two hundred yards away he halted the <i>NX-1</i>, steadied her and
+sighted the stern tubes just above the dark tunnel hole. Quickly he
+sent forth two torpedoes.</p>
+
+<p>A huge roar rumbled through the water, whipping the beds of kelp to
+mad convulsions. "Turn around," the commander ordered harshly. He
+sighted his bow tubes and again let loose a bolt of two torpedoes.
+Then he sent the submarine forward, and, through the teleview,
+examined what his four weapons had done.</p>
+
+<p>Huge chunks of rock had been tumbled down, completely closing the
+tunnel.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Graham, "it's over! Finished! They'll never get through
+that!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; full-throated cheer burst from the men below, a cheer that rang for
+minutes as they realized they were free forever of the octopi, of the
+cold underwater city, of the clutching tentacles. Graham grinned
+broadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Sound happy&mdash;eh?" he chuckled. "Say, Keith, it's good we've got those
+two octopi our fighting cook killed. Knapp would never believe our
+story without them!"</p>
+
+<p>He stared curiously at his commander. Wells was standing quite still,
+facing the teleview screen. A strange, far-away look was in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, old man?" the first officer asked, smiling
+straight at him. "Aren't you glad we won through?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," answered Keith with a tired smile in return.</p>
+
+<p>"But why did you look that way?" Graham persisted. And Keith Wells
+told him:</p>
+
+<p>"I was just wondering if Hemmy told the truth."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image_006.jpg" width="500" height="528" alt="&quot;Look out!&quot; He leaped to one side as he spoke."  />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Look out!&quot; He leaped to one side as he spoke.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="The_Black_Lamp" id="The_Black_Lamp"></a>The Black Lamp</h2>
+
+<h3><i>By Captain S. P. Meek</i></h3>
+
+
+<p>"The clue, Carnes," said Dr. Bird slowly, "lies in those windows."</p>
+
+<p>Operative Carnes of the United States Secret Service shook his head
+before he glanced at the windows of the famous scientist's private
+laboratory on the top floor of the Bureau of Standards.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Dr. Bird and his friend Carnes unravel another criminal web
+of scientific mystery.</div>
+
+<p>"I usually defer to your knowledge, Doctor," he said, "but this time I
+think you are off on the wrong foot. If the thieves came in through
+the windows, what was their object in cutting that hole through the
+roof? The marks are very plain and they indicate that the hole was cut
+in some manner from the inside."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bird smiled enigmatically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That is too evident for discussion," he replied. "I grant you that
+the thieves entered from the roof through that hole. After they had
+secured their booty they left by the same route. I presume that you
+have noticed the marks on the roof where an aircraft of some sort,
+probably a helicopter, landed and took off. A question of much greater
+moment is that of what they did before they landed and cut the hole."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't follow your reasoning, Doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"Carnes, that hole was cut through the roof with a heavy saw. In
+cutting it, the workers dislodged quite a little plaster which fell to
+the floor and must have made a great deal of noise. Why wasn't that
+noise heard?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was heard. The watchman heard it, but knew that Lieutenant Breslau
+was working here and he thought that he made the noise."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, but why didn't Breslau hear it?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do we know that he didn't? He was taken to Walter Reed Hospital
+this morning with his mind an absolute blank and with his tongue
+paralyzed. He must have seen the thieves and they treated him in some
+way to ensure his silence. When he is able to talk, if he ever is,
+he'll probably give us a good description of them."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>r. Bird shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Too thin, Carney, old dear," he said. "Breslau is a very intelligent
+young man. He was perfectly normal when I left him shortly after
+midnight last night. He was working alone in here on a device of the
+utmost military importance. On the desk is a push button which sets
+ringing a dozen gongs in the building. Surely a man of that type would
+have had sense enough when he heard and saw intruders cutting a hole
+through the roof to sound an alarm which would have brought every
+watchman on the grounds to his assistance. He must have been knocked
+out before the hole was started, probably before the helicopter's
+landing."</p>
+
+<p>"How? Gas of some sort?"</p>
+
+<p>"The windows were all closed and locked and I have already ascertained
+that the gas and water lines have not been tampered with. Gas won't
+penetrate through a solid roof in sufficient concentration to knock
+out a man like that. It was something more subtle than gas."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know yet. The clue to what it was lies, as I told you, in
+those windows."</p>
+
+<p>Carnes moved over and surveyed the windows closely.</p>
+
+<p>"I see nothing unusual about them except that they need washing rather
+badly."</p>
+
+<p>"They were washed last Friday, but they do look rather dirty, don't
+they? Suppose you take a rag and some scouring soap and clean up a
+pane."</p>
+
+<p>The detective took the proffered articles and started his task. He wet
+a pane of glass, rubbed up a thick lather of scouring soap and applied
+it and rubbed vigorously. With clear water he washed the glass and
+then gave an exclamation of astonishment and examined it more closely.</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't dirt, Doctor," he cried. "The glass seems to be fogged."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bird chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"So it seems," he admitted. "Now look at the rest of the glass around
+the laboratory."</p>
+
+<p>Carnes looked around and then walked to a table littered with
+apparatus and examined a dozen pieces carefully.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all fogged in exactly the same way, Doctor," he said. "The only
+piece of clear glass in the room is that piece of plate glass on your
+desk."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>r. Bird picked up a hammer and struck the plate on his desk a sharp
+blow. Carnes ducked instinctively, but the hammer rebounded harmlessly
+from the plate.</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't glass, Carnes," said the doctor. "That plate is made of
+vitri<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>lene, a new product which I have developed. It looks like glass,
+but it has entirely different properties. It is of enormous strength
+and is quite insensitive to shock. It has one most peculiar property.
+While ultra-violet and longer rays will penetrate it quite readily, it
+is a perfect screen for X-rays and other rays of shorter wave length.
+It appears to be the only piece of transparent substance in my
+laboratory which has not been fogged, as you call it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do short waves fog glass, Doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so far as I know at present, but you must remember that very
+little work has been done with the short wave-lengths. In the vast
+range of waves whose lengths lie between zero and that of the X-ray,
+only a few points have been investigated and definitely plotted. There
+may be in that range a wave-length which will fog glass."</p>
+
+<p>"Then your theory is that some sort of a ray machine was put in
+operation before the helicopter landed?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is too early to attempt any theorizing, Carnes. Let us confine
+ourselves to the known facts. Lieutenant Breslau was normal at
+midnight and was working in this room. Some time between then and
+seven this morning he underwent certain mental and physical changes
+which prevent him from telling us what he observed. During the same
+period, a hole was cut in the roof and things of great importance
+stolen. At the same time, all the glass in the laboratory became
+semi-opaque. The problem is to determine what connection there is
+between the three events. I will handle the scientific end here, but
+there is some outside work to be done, and that will be your share."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_g1.jpg" alt="G" width="63" height="53" /></div>
+
+<p>ive your orders, Doctor," said the detective briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"To understand what I am driving at, I will have to tell you what has
+been stolen. Naturally this is highly confidential. Some rumors have
+leaked out as to my experiments with 'radite,' as I have named the
+new radium-containing disintegrating explosive on which I have been
+working, but no one short of the Secretary of War and the Chief of
+Ordnance and certain of their selected subordinates knows that my
+experiments have been successful and that the United States is in a
+position to manufacture radite in almost unlimited quantities from the
+pitchblende ore deposits of Wyoming and Nevada. The effects of radite
+will be catastrophic on the unfortunate victim on whom it is first
+used. The only thing left to do was to develop a gun from which radite
+shells could be fired with safety and precision.</p>
+
+<p>"Ordinary propellant powders are too variable for this purpose, but I
+found that radite B, one form of my new explosive, can be used for
+propelling the shells from a gun. The ordinary gun will last only two
+or three rounds, due to the erosive action of the radite charge on the
+barrel, and ordinary ordnance is heavier and more cumbersome than is
+necessary. When this was found to be the case, the Chief of Ordnance
+detailed Lieutenant Breslau, the army's greatest expert on gun design,
+to work with me in an attempt to develop a suitable weapon. Breslau is
+a wizard at that sort of work and he has made a miniature working
+model of a gun with a vitrilene-lined barrel which is capable of being
+fired with a miniature shell. The gun will stand up under the repeated
+firing of radite charges and is very light and compact and gives an
+accuracy of fire control heretofore deemed impossible. From this he
+planned to construct a larger weapon which would fire a shell
+containing an explosive charge of two and one-half ounces of radite at
+a rate of fire of two hundred shots per minute. The destructive effect
+of each shell will be greater than that of the ordinary high-explosive
+shell fired from a sixteen-inch mortar, and all of the shells can be
+landed inside a two-hundred foot circle at a range of fifteen miles.
+The weight of the com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>pleted gun will be less than half a ton,
+exclusive of the firing platform. It is Breslau's working model which
+has been stolen."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>arnes whistled softly between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"The matter will have to be handled pretty delicately to avoid
+international complications," he said. "It's hard to tell just where
+to look. There are a great many nations who would give any amount for
+a model of such a weapon."</p>
+
+<p>"The matter must be handled delicately and also in absolute secrecy,
+Carnes. We are not yet ready to announce to the world the fact that we
+have such a weapon in our armory. It is the plan of the President to
+have a half dozen of these weapons manufactured and give a
+demonstration of their terrible effectiveness to representatives of
+the powers of the world. Think what an argument the existence of such
+a weapon will be for the furtherance of his plans for disarmament and
+universal peace! Public sentiment will force disarmament on the world,
+for even the worst jingoist could no longer defend armaments in the
+face of America's offer to scrap these super-engines of destruction
+and to destroy the plans from which they were made. If the model has
+fallen into the hands of any civilized power the damage is not
+irreparable, for public opinion would force its surrender and return.
+It is among the uncivilized powers that our search must first be
+made."</p>
+
+<p>"That makes the problem of where to start more complicated."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, it simplifies it immensely. At the head of the
+uncivilized powers stands one which has the brains, the scientific
+knowledge and the manufacturing facilities to make terrible use of
+such a weapon. In addition, the aim of that power is to overthrow all
+world governments and set up in their stead its own tyrannical
+disorder. Need I name it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You refer to Russia."</p>
+
+<p>"Not to Russia, the great slumbering giant who will some day take her
+place in the sun in fellowship with the other nations, but to
+Bolsheviki, that empire within an empire, that horrible power which is
+holding sleeping Russia in chains of steel and blood. It is there that
+our search must first be made."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_o1.jpg" alt="O" width="60" height="54" /></div>
+
+<p>f course, they have no official representative in America."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but the Young Labor Party is as much their accredited
+representative as the British Ambassador is of imperial Britain. Your
+first task will be to trail down and locate every leader of that group
+and to investigate his present activities."</p>
+
+<p>"I can tell you where most of them are without investigation. Denberg,
+Semensky and Karuska are in Atlanta; Fedorovitch and Caspar are in
+Leavenworth; Saranoff is dead&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Presumably."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Doctor, I saw with my own eyes the destruction of the submarine
+in which he was riding!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see his dead body?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither did I, and I will never be sure until I do. Once before we
+were certain of his death, and he bobbed up with a new fiendish
+device. We cannot eliminate Saranoff."</p>
+
+<p>"I will include him in my plans."</p>
+
+<p>"Do so. Besides a hypothetical Saranoff, there are a half dozen or
+more of the old leaders of the gang who are alive and at liberty, so
+far as we know. They fled the country after the Coast Guard broke up
+their alien smuggling scheme, but some of them may have returned.
+There are also thirty or forty underlings who should be located and
+checked up on, and, in addition, we must not lose sight of the fact
+that new heads of the organization may have been smuggled into the
+United States. It is no simple task that I am setting you, Carnes, but
+I know that you and Bolton will see it through if anyone can."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Doctor, we'll do our best.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> If I am not speaking out of turn,
+what are you planning to do in the mean time?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; am going to start Taylor off on an ultra-short wave generator and
+try a few experiments along that line. Breslau is at Walter Reed and
+they are doing all they can for him, but until I can get some definite
+information as to the underlying cause of his condition, they are more
+or less shooting in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"How are they treating him?"</p>
+
+<p>"By electric stimulations and vibratory treatments and by keeping him
+in a darkened room. By the way, Carnes, if I am correct in my line of
+thought, it would be well to have an extra guard put over Karuska. He
+was the only real expert in ordnance that the Young Labor party had,
+and if they have Breslau's model they'll need him to supervise the
+construction of a gun."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll attend to that at once, Doctor. Is there anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I know of. I am going out to Takoma Park this afternoon and
+have another look at Breslau, but it is too soon to hope for any
+change in his condition. Aside from the time I will be out there, you
+can find me either here or at my home, in case anything develops."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get on the job at once, Doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, old dear. Remember that speed must be the keynote of your
+work."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he telephone bell at the head of Dr. Bird's bed woke into noisy
+activity. The doctor roused himself and took down the instrument
+sleepily. A glance at the clock showed him that it was four in the
+morning and he muttered a malediction on the one who had called him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello," he said into the receiver. "Dr. Bird speaking."</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor," came a crisp voice over the wire, "wake up! This is Carnes
+talking. Something has broken loose!"</p>
+
+<p>All trace of sleep vanished from Dr. Bird's face and his eyes glowed
+momentarily with a peculiar glitter which Carnes would at once have
+recognized as indicative of the keenest interest.</p>
+
+<p>"What has happened, Carnes?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"I telephoned Atlanta this morning and arranged to have an extra guard
+put over Karuska as you suggested. The matter was simplified by the
+fact that he and nine others were confined in the prison infirmary.
+The warden agreed to do as I told him, and, in addition to the regular
+guards, a special man was placed in the ward near Karuska's bed. At 2
+A. M. the lights in the ward went out."</p>
+
+<p>"Accidentally, or were they put out?"</p>
+
+<p>"They haven't found out yet. At any rate they are all right now, but
+Karuska and all of the other inmates and all the guards of that
+particular ward have gone crazy."</p>
+
+<p>"The dickens you say!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not only that, they are also partially paralyzed. The description I
+got over the telephone corresponds exactly with the condition of
+Lieutenant Breslau as you described it to me. Here is the most
+interesting part of the whole affair. The special guard over Karuska
+was only lightly affected and has already recovered and is in a
+position to tell you exactly what happened. I got a garbled account of
+the affair from the warden, something about a goldfish bowl or
+something like that, the warden wouldn't take it seriously enough to
+give me details. I didn't press for them much for I knew that you
+would rather get them at first hand."</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly would. I'll be ready to leave for Atlanta in less than
+ten minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"I expected that, Doctor, and a car is already on its way to pick you
+up. I'll meet you at Langley Field where a plane is already being
+tuned up and will be ready to take off by the time we get there."</p>
+
+<p>"Good work, Carnes. I'll see you at the field."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; car was waiting for Carnes and Dr. Bird when the Langley Field plane
+slid down to a landing at Atlanta. At the penitentiary, Dr. Bird went
+direct to the infirmary where Karuska had been confined. As he
+entered, he shot a keen glance around and gave an exclamation of
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at the windows, Carnes," he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Carnes went over to the nearest window and moistened his finger tip
+and applied it experimentally to the glass. The moisture produced no
+effect, for the glass of the windows was permanently clouded as was
+that of the doctor's laboratory.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever happened in my laboratory the night before last was repeated
+here last night with a similar object," said the doctor. "The object
+there was to steal a gun model; here it was to steal a man who could
+construct a full-sized gun from the model. I understand that one of
+the guards escaped the fate which overtook the rest of the persons in
+the infirmary?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not altogether, Doctor," replied the warden. "I think that his mind
+is somewhat affected, for he tells a wild yarn and insists on trying
+to wear a goldfish bowl on his head. I have him under observation in
+the psychopathic ward."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bird shot a scornful glance at the warden.</p>
+
+<p>"'There are none so blind as those who will not see'," he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"By all means, I wish to see him," he went on aloud. "Will you have
+him brought here at once, please?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he warden nodded and spoke to one of the attendants. In a few moments
+a tall, fair-haired young giant stood before the doctor. Dr. Bird
+pushed back his unruly shock of black hair with his fingers, those
+long slim mobile fingers which alone betrayed the artist in his
+make-up, and shot a piercing glance from his black eyes into the blue
+ones, which returned the gaze unabashed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your name?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Bailley, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You were on guard here last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. I was detailed as a special guard over No. 9764."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me in your own words just what happened. Don't be afraid to
+speak out; I'm not going to disbelieve you; and above all, tell me
+everything, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you. I'll judge
+the importance of things for myself. I'm Dr. Bird of the Bureau of
+Standards."</p>
+
+<p>The guard's face lighted up at the doctor's words.</p>
+
+<p>"I've heard of you, Doctor," he said in a relieved tone, "and I'll be
+glad to tell you everything. At ten o'clock last night, I relieved
+Carragher as special guard over No. 9764. Carragher reported that the
+prisoner was somewhat restless and hadn't been asleep as yet. I sat
+down about fifteen feet from his bed and prepared to keep an eye on
+him until I was relieved at six o'clock this morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing happened until about two o'clock. No. 9764 was restless as
+Carragher had said, but toward midnight he quieted down and apparently
+went to sleep. I was sleepy myself, and I got up and took a turn
+around the room every five minutes to be sure that I kept awake.
+That's how I am so sure of the time, sir."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>r. Bird nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"At five minutes to two, just as I got up, I heard a noise outside
+like a big electric fan. It sounded like it came from directly
+overhead and I went to the window and looked out. I couldn't see
+anything, although I could hear it pretty plainly, and then I heard a
+noise like something had fallen on the roof. Almost at the same time
+there came a sort of high-pitched whine, a good deal like the noise an
+electric motor makes when it is running at high speed.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of giving an alarm, but I didn't want to stir things up
+unless I was sure that there was some necessity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> for it, so I started
+for the door to ask one of the outside guards if he had heard
+anything. As I turned toward No. 9764 I saw that he had been sitting
+up in bed while my back was turned. As soon as he saw that I noticed
+him, he lay back real quick and pulled the covers over his head. He
+moved pretty quick, but not so quick that I couldn't see that he had
+something that glittered like glass before his face. I started over
+toward his bed to see what he was doing and then it was that the
+lights started to get dim!"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on!" said the doctor as Bailley paused. His eyes were glittering
+brightly now.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, Doctor, I don't hardly know how to describe what happened
+next. The lights were getting dim, but not as they ordinarily do when
+the current starts to go off. The filaments were shining as bright as
+they ever did, but the light didn't seem to be able to penetrate the
+air. The whole room seemed to be filled with a blackness that stopped
+the light. No, sir, it wasn't like fog; it was more like something
+more powerful than the lights was in the room and was killing them.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>t wasn't only the lights which were affected, it was me as well.
+This blackness, whatever it was, was getting into me as well as into
+the room, and I couldn't seem to make myself think like I wanted to. I
+tried to yell to give an alarm, and I found that I could hardly
+whisper. I went toward the bed and then I saw No. 9764 sit up again.
+He had a goldfish bowl pulled down over his head and it was evident
+that it was keeping the blackness away, for I could see him plainly
+and his eyes were as bright as ever.</p>
+
+<p>"The nearer I got to him, the funnier I felt, and I began to be afraid
+that I would go out. No. 9764 got up out of bed, and I could see him
+grinning at me through the bowl. He reached up and adjusted that bowl,
+and all of a sudden I realized that whatever was knocking me out was
+not affecting him because he had that thing on. I jumped for him with
+the idea of taking the bowl off and putting it on my own head. He saw
+what I was up to and he fought like a cornered rat, but the blackness
+hadn't affected my muscles. I'm a pretty big man, sir, and No. 9764 is
+a little runt, and it didn't take me long to get the bowl off his head
+and pulled on over mine. As soon as I did that, I seemed to be able to
+think clearer. I was sitting on No. 9764 and was ready to tap him with
+a persuader if he started anything, but I didn't have to. In a few
+minutes he stopped struggling and lay perfectly quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"The lights kept getting dimmer and dimmer until they went out
+altogether and the room became pitch dark. It wasn't exactly as if the
+lights had gone out, sir; I seemed to know that they were still there
+and were burning as bright as ever, but they couldn't penetrate the
+blackness in the room, if you understand what I mean."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; think I do," said Dr. Bird slowly. "It was a good deal as if you
+had seen a glass filled with a pale red liquid and someone had dumped
+black ink into the fluid and hid the red color. You would know that
+the red was still there, but you wouldn't be able to see it through
+the black."</p>
+
+<p>"That's exactly what it was like, Doctor; you have described it better
+than I can. At any rate, after it got real dark I heard a low whistle
+from the roof. No. 9764 made a struggle to get up for a moment and
+then lay quiet again. The whistle sounded again and then I heard some
+one call 'Caruso.' Everything was quiet for a while and then the same
+voice called again and said some stuff in a foreign language that I
+couldn't understand. I kept perfectly quiet to see what would happen.</p>
+
+<p>"For about ten minutes the room remained perfectly dark, as I have
+said, and all the while I could hear that whining noise. All of a
+sudden it began to sound in a lower note and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> I could see the
+lights again, very dimly and like the black ink you spoke of was
+fading out. The note got lower until it stopped altogether, and the
+lights came on brighter until they were normal again. Then I heard a
+scraping noise on the roof and the noise I had heard at first like a
+big electric fan. I looked at the clock. It was two-twenty.</p>
+
+<p>"For a few minutes I wasn't able to collect my wits. When I got up off
+of No. 9764 at last he stared at me as though he didn't know a thing,
+and I heaved him back into his bed and ran to the door to summon an
+outside guard. I could still talk in a husky whisper, but not loud,
+and I wasn't surprised when no one heard me. My orders were not to let
+No. 9764 out of my sight, but this was an emergency, so I left the
+ward and found a guard. It was Madigan and he was standing on his beat
+staring at nothing. When I touched him he looked at me and there was
+the same vacant look in his eyes that I had seen in the prisoner's. I
+talked to him in a whisper, but he didn't seem to understand, so I
+left him and went to a telephone and called for help. Mr. Lawson, the
+warden, got here with guards in a couple of minutes and I tried to
+tell him what had happened, but I couldn't talk loud, and I was afraid
+to take the fish bowl off my head."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_w1.jpg" alt="W" width="78" height="54" /></div>
+
+<p>hat happened next?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lawson took me to his office, and on the way we passed under an
+arc light. As soon as I got under it I begin to feel better, and my
+voice came stronger. I saw that it was doing me some good and I
+stopped under it for an hour before my voice got back to normal. It
+seemed to clear the fog from my brain, too, and I was able, about four
+o'clock, to tell everything that had happened. Mr. Lawson seemed to
+think that my brain was affected as well as the others' and he sent me
+to the hospital. That's all, Doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you feel perfectly normal now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need for confining this man longer, Mr. Lawson. He is as
+well as he ever was. Carnes, get the Walter Reed Hospital on the
+telephone and tell them that I said to treat Lieutenant Breslau with
+light rays, rich in ultra-violet. Tell them to give him an overdose of
+them and not to put goggles on him. Keep him in the sun all day and
+under sun-ray arcs at night until further orders. Mr. Lawson, give the
+same treatment to the men who were disabled last night. If you haven't
+enough sun-ray arcs in your hospital, put them under an ordinary arc
+light in the yard. Bailley, have you still got that goldfish bowl?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is in my office, Doctor," said the warden.</p>
+
+<p>"Good enough! Send for it at once. By the way, you have two more
+communists here, Denberg and Semensky, haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so, although I will have to consult the records before I can
+be positive."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure that you have. Look the matter up and let me know."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he warden hurried away to carry out the doctor's orders, and an
+orderly appeared in a few moments with a hollow globe made of some
+crystalline transparent substance. Despite its presence in the
+infirmary the evening before, there was no trace of clouding apparent.
+Dr. Bird took it and examined it critically. He rapped it with his
+knuckles and then stepped to the door and hurled it violently down on
+the concrete floor of the yard. The globe rebounded without injury and
+he caught it.</p>
+
+<p>"Vitrilene, or a good imitation of it," he remarked to Carnes. "After
+you get through talking to the hospital, get Taylor on the wire. There
+is plenty of loose vitrilene in the Bureau, and I want him to send
+down about fifty square feet of it by a special plane at once."</p>
+
+<p>As Carnes left the room, the warden reappeared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The men are all lying in the sun now, Doctor," he said. "I find that
+we have the two men you mentioned confined here. They are both in Tier
+A, Building 6."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that an isolated building?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is one wing of the old main building."</p>
+
+<p>"On which floor?"</p>
+
+<p>"The second floor. It is a six-story building."</p>
+
+<p>"Have they been moved there recently?"</p>
+
+<p>"They have been there for nearly a year."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="37" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>n that case there will be little chance of another attack of this
+sort to-night. At the same time, I would advise you to station extra
+guards there to-night and every night until I notify you otherwise.
+Caution them to watch the lights carefully and to give an alarm at
+once if they appear to get dim. In such a case, send men to the roof
+with rifles with orders to shoot to kill anyone they find there. I am
+going back to Washington and I am going to take Karuska, your No. 9764
+with me. You had better have one of the guards in the corridor, where
+Denberg and Semensky are, wear this goldfish bowl, as you call it. A
+lot of plate glass&mdash;at least it will look like that&mdash;will come from
+Washington by plane. Cut it into sheets a foot square and use
+surgeon's plaster to make some temporary glass helmets for your men. I
+want all your guards to wear them until I either settle this matter or
+else send you some better helmets. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand all right, but I'm afraid that I can't do it. The
+wearing of such appliances would interfere with the efficiency of my
+men as guards."</p>
+
+<p>"Brain and tongue paralysis would interfere rather more seriously, it
+seems to me. In any event, I have sufficient authority to enforce my
+request. If you are at all doubtful, call up the Attorney General and
+ask him."</p>
+
+<p>The warden hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't mind, I think I will call Washington, Doctor," he said.
+"I will have to get authority to turn No. 9764 over to you in any
+event."</p>
+
+<p>"Call all you wish, Mr. Lawson. Mr. Carnes is talking to Washington
+now and we'll have a clear line through for you in a few minutes.
+Meanwhile, get a set of shackles on Karuska and get him ready to
+travel by plane. He appears to be suffering from mental paralysis, but
+I don't know how his case will develop. He may go violently insane at
+any moment and I don't care to be aloft in a plane with an unbound
+maniac."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ajor Martin looked up from the prone figure of Karuska.</p>
+
+<p>"His condition duplicates that of Lieutenant Breslau, Dr. Bird," he
+said. "We received your telephoned message this afternoon and we kept
+Breslau in a flood of sunlight until dusk, and then put him under
+sun-ray lamps. I don't know how you got on to that treatment, but it
+is having a very beneficial effect. He can already make inarticulate
+sounds, and his eyes are not quite as vacant at they were. If he keeps
+on improving as he has, he should be able to talk intelligently in a
+few days. If you wish to question this man, why not give him the same
+treatment?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't time, Major. I must make him talk to-night if it is humanly
+possible. I called you in because you are the most eminent authority
+on the brain in the government service. Is there any way of
+artificially stimulating this man's brain so that we can force the
+secrets of his subconscious mind from him?"</p>
+
+<p>The major sat for a moment in profound thought.</p>
+
+<p>"There <i>is</i> a way, Doctor," he said at length, "but it is a method
+which I would not dare to use. By applying high frequency electrical
+stimulations to the medulla oblongata, at the same time bathing the
+cerebellum with ultra-violet, it might be done, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> chances are
+that either death or insanity would result. I would not do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Major Martin, this man is a reckless and dangerous international
+criminal. If his gang carries out the plan which I fear they have
+formed, the lives of thousands, yes, of millions, may pay for your
+hesitation. I will assume full responsibility for the test if you will
+make it, and I have the authority of the President of the United
+States behind me."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, Doctor, I have no choice. The President is the
+Commander-in-chief of the army, and if those are his orders the
+experiment will be carried out. As a matter of form, I will ask that
+your orders be reduced to writing."</p>
+
+<p>"I will write them gladly, Major. Please proceed with the experiment
+without delay."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ajor Martin bowed and spoke to a waiting orderly. The prostrate
+figure of Karuska was wheeled down a corridor into the electrical
+laboratory, and with the aid of the laboratory technician the surgeon
+made his preparations. The Moss lamp was arranged to throw a flood of
+ultra-violet over the Russian's cranium while the leads from a deep
+therapy X-ray tube was connected, one to the front of Karuska's throat
+and the other to the base of his brain. At a signal from the major, a
+nurse began to administer ether.</p>
+
+<p>"I guarantee nothing, Dr. Bird," said the major. "The paralysis of the
+vocal cords may be physical, in which case the victim will still be
+unable to speak, regardless of the brain stimulation. If, however, the
+evident paralysis is due to some obscure influence on the brain, it
+may work."</p>
+
+<p>"In any, event I will hold you blameless and thank you for your help,"
+replied the doctor. "Please start the stimulation."</p>
+
+<p>Major Martin closed a switch, and the hum of a high tension alternator
+filled the laboratory. The Russian quivered for a moment and then lay
+still. Major Martin nodded and Dr. Bird stepped to the side of the
+operating table.</p>
+
+<p>"Ivan Karuska," he said slowly and distinctly, "do you hear me?"</p>
+
+<p>The Russian's lips quivered and an unintelligible murmur came from
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Ivan Karuska," repeated Dr. Bird, "do you hear me?"</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 momentary struggle on the part of the Russian and then a
+surprisingly clear voice came from his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is the present head of the Young Labor party?"</p>
+
+<p>Again there was a pause before the name "Saranoff" came from the lips
+of the insensible figure. Carnes gave a sharp exclamation but a
+gesture from the doctor silenced him.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Saranoff alive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he in the United States?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is in London."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he coming to the United States?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Soon. As soon as we are ready for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he living in London?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you get word that you were to be rescued from Atlanta?"</p>
+
+<p>"A message was smuggled in to me by O'Grady, a guard in our pay."</p>
+
+<p>"What was that vitrilene helmet for?"</p>
+
+<p>"To protect me from the effects of the black lamp."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the black lamp?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know exactly. Saranoff invented it. It gives a black light
+and it kills all other light except sunlight, and it paralyses the
+brain."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you know that the model of the Breslau gun had been stolen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What were you going to do after you were rescued from jail?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was going to make a full-sized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> gun. We have a disappearing gun
+platform built in the swamps at the juncture of the Potomac and
+Piscataway Creek. The gun was to be mounted there and we would shell
+Washington and institute a reign of terror. It would be a signal for
+uprisings all over the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a black lamp at that gun platform?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. The black lamp will kill both the flash and the report."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get the formula for radite?"</p>
+
+<p>"We got it from one of Dr. Bird's assistants. His name&mdash;"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>s he spoke the last few sentences, Karuska's voice had steadily risen
+almost to a shriek. As he endeavored to give the name of the doctor's
+treacherous helper his voice changed to an unintelligible screech and
+then died away into silence. Major Martin stepped forward and bent
+over the prone figure. Hurriedly he tore away the electrical
+connections and placed a stethoscope over the Russian's heart. He
+listened for a moment and then straightened up, his face pale.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope that the information you obtained is worth a life, Dr. Bird,"
+he said, his voice trembling slightly, "because it has cost one."</p>
+
+<p>"It may easily save thousands of lives. I thank you, Major, and I will
+see that no blame attaches to you for your actions. I only wish that
+he had lived long enough to tell me the name of my assistant who has
+sold me to Saranoff. However, we'll get that information in other
+ways. Carnes, telephone Lawson at Atlanta to slam O'Grady into a cell
+pending investigation while I get Camp Meade on the wire and order up
+a couple of tanks. We are going to attack that gun emplacement at
+daybreak."</p>
+
+<p>The telephone bell in the laboratory jangled sharply. Major Martin
+answered it and turned to Carnes.</p>
+
+<p>"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Carnes."</p>
+
+<p>The detective stepped forward and took the transmitter.</p>
+
+<p>"Carnes speaking," he said. "Yes. Oh, hello, Bolton. Yes, we have
+Karuska here, or rather his body. Yes, Dr. Bird is here right now.
+You've what? Great Scott, wait a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Bird," he cried eagerly turning from the telephone, "Bolton has
+located the Washington headquarters of the Young Labor party."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bird sprang to the instrument.</p>
+
+<p>"Bird speaking, Bolton," he cried. "You've located their headquarters?
+Who's running it? Stanesky, eh? You're on the right track; he used to
+be Saranoff's right hand man. Where is the place located? I don't seem
+to recollect the spot. You have it well surrounded? Where are you
+speaking from? All right, we'll join you as quickly as we can. Keep
+your patrols out and don't let anyone get away."</p>
+
+<p>He hung up the receiver and turned to Carnes.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you have the car wait?" he asked. "Good enough; we'll jump for
+the Bureau and pick up all the vitrilene laying around loose and then
+join Bolton. He thinks that he has the whole outfit bottled up."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>olton was waiting as the car rolled up and Dr. Bird leaped out.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are they?" demanded the doctor eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"In an abandoned factory building about three hundred yards from
+here," replied the Chief of the Secret Service. "I traced them through
+New York. We have been watching the place ever since yesterday noon,
+and I know that Stanesky is in there with half a dozen others. No one
+has tried to leave since we set our watch. One funny thing has
+happened. About an hour ago a peculiar red glow suffused the whole
+building. It has died down a good deal since, but we can still see it
+through the windows. Could you tell us what it means?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I couldn't, Bolton, but we'll find out. How many men have you?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have sixteen stationed around."</p>
+
+<p>"That's more than we'll need. I have only vitrilene shields and
+helmets enough to equip six men. Pick out your three best men to go
+with us and we'll make a try at entering."</p>
+
+<p>Bolton strode off into the darkness and returned in a few moments with
+three men at his heels. Dr. Bird spoke briefly to the operatives, all
+of them men who had been his companions on other adventures. He
+explained the need for the vitrilene helmets and shields, and without
+comment the six donned their armor and followed Bolton as he strode
+toward the building. As they approached, a dull red glow could be
+plainly seen through the windows, and Dr. Bird paused and studied the
+phenomenon for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what that means, Bolton," he said softly, "but I don't
+like the looks of it. Stanesky is up to some devilment or other. I
+wouldn't be a bit surprised to find out that he knows all about your
+pickets and is ready for a raid."</p>
+
+<p>"We'd better rush the place, then," muttered Bolton.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>r. Bird nodded agreement and with a sharp command to his men Bolton
+broke into a run. Not a shot was fired as they approached, and the
+front door gave readily to Bolton's touch. At it opened there came a
+grating sound from the roof followed by the whir of a propeller. Dr.
+Bird ran out of the building and glanced up.</p>
+
+<p>"A helicopter!" he cried. "They were expecting us and have escaped!"</p>
+
+<p>He drew his pistol and fired ineffectually at the great bird-like ship
+which was rising almost noiselessly into the air. He cursed and turned
+again to the building.</p>
+
+<p>Bolton still stood in the room which they had first entered. His
+flashlight showed it to be empty, but from under a door on the
+opposite side a line of dull red light glowed evilly. With his pistol
+ready in his hand, Bolton approached the door on hands and knees.
+When he reached it he threw his shoulder against it and dropped flat
+to the floor as the door swung open. No shot greeted him, and he
+stared for a moment and then rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing in here but some glass statues," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bird followed him into the room. As he looked at what Bolton had
+called glass statues he gasped and shielded his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"God in Heaven!" he ejaculated. "Those were living men!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>efore them were three men or what had been three men. All stood in
+strained attitudes with a look of horror frozen on their faces. The
+thing that made the spectators shudder was that their bodies had, by
+some diabolical method, been rendered semi-transparent. The dull red
+light which suffused the room emanated from the three bodies. Dr. Bird
+examined them closely, being careful not to touch them.</p>
+
+<p>"The identity of my treacherous assistant is known," he said grimly as
+he pointed at the middle figure. "It was Gerond. What is this?"</p>
+
+<p>He took an envelope from the hand of the middle figure and opened it.
+A sheet of paper fell out and he picked it up and read it.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mr. Bolton," ran the note. "Your methods of tracing and
+picketing my headquarters are so crude as to be almost laughable. This
+base has served its purpose and we were ready to abandon it in any
+event, but I couldn't resist the temptation to let you almost nab us.
+The three men whom you will find here are agents who failed in their
+duty. If you are interested in learning the method of their execution,
+you might take to heart the words of your colleague, Dr. Bird: 'The
+clue lies in those windows.'"</p>
+
+<p>Carnes glanced at the windows and gave a cry of surprise. The glass
+was opaque, as had been the glass in the doctor's laboratory and the
+glass in the infirmary at Atlanta. The fogging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> however, was much more
+pronounced, and the opaque glass gave faintly the same red effulgence
+which came from the three bodies.</p>
+
+<p>"What does it mean, Doctor?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Carnes," said Dr. Bird slowly. "I foresee that I am
+going to have to do a great deal of work on short wave-lengths soon.
+It is doubtless the effect of some modification of the black lamp
+which has done it. Look out!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e leaped to one side as he spoke, drawing Bolton and Carnes with him.
+A panel in the side of the wall opposite the doorway had slid silently
+open and through the opening poured out a beam of fiery red. Full on
+the three bodies it fell, and then spread out to fill the room. Dr.
+Bird had drawn the two nearest men out of the direct beam, but one of
+the secret service men stood full in its path. In the excitement of
+entering he had dropped his vitrilene shield and the livid ray fell
+full on his defenceless body. As they watched an expression of horror
+spread over his face and he strove to move to one side, but he was
+held helpless. Slowly he stiffened; and, as the ray bored through him,
+his body became semi-transparent and the same dull red glow which
+emanated from the three bodies they had found began to shine forth
+from him. Bolton strove to break from the doctor's grasp and rush to
+the rescue but Dr. Bird held him with a grip of iron.</p>
+
+<p>"Too late," he said grimly. "Chalk up another murder to the arch fiend
+who has committed the others. I don't know the nature of that ray and
+vitrilene may not be an adequate defence against its full force. We
+had better get out of here and attack the place from the rear."</p>
+
+<p>Carefully edging their way around the sides of the room, the five men
+made their way out through the door. Dr. Bird slammed the door shut
+behind him and led the way out of the building and around to the
+rear. A door loomed before them and he cautiously tried it. It gave to
+his touch and he entered. As he set his foot on the threshold a
+terrific explosion came from the interior of the building.</p>
+
+<p>"Run!" he shouted as he led the way in retreat. "If that is a radite
+explosion it will act for several seconds!"</p>
+
+<p>From a safe distance they watched. One corner of the building had been
+torn off by the force of the explosion, and as they watched the rest
+of the building gradually collapsed and sank into a pile of ruins.</p>
+
+<p>"They had planned on a visit from us all right," said Dr. Bolton
+grimly. "They had a surprise for us any way we jumped. If we went in
+the front door, that devil's ray was to finish us, and if we went in
+the back door the whole place was arranged to blow up as we entered. I
+only hope that Stanesky thinks that he has got us all and doesn't
+expect an attack on his next base in the morning. If he doesn't, I
+think we may give him a rather unpleasant surprise. Of course, that
+lamp is smashed into atoms and buried under the debris, but I don't
+know what other devil's contraptions that ruin holds. Bolton, have
+your men picket it and allow no one near until I get back. I've got to
+get to a telephone and get a couple of tanks from Meade and a plane or
+two from Langley Field."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>wo tanks made their way slowly across country. The front of each tank
+was protected by a heavy sheet of vitrilene, while from the turrets of
+the tanks projected the wicked looking muzzles of thirty-seven
+millimeter guns. Overhead two airplanes from Langley Field soared,
+scouting the country. Dr. Bird and Carnes rode in the leading tank.</p>
+
+<p>"It ought to be somewhere near here, unless Karuska lied," said Carnes
+as he swept the country with a pair of binoculars.</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't lie," returned Dr. Bird.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> "It was his subconscious mind
+that spoke and it never lies. He spoke of the gun emplacement as being
+in a swamp and I have a strong idea that it is submersible. Of course,
+it is bound to be well camouflaged, both from land and from air
+observation."</p>
+
+<p>The planes circled around again and again, quartering the air like a
+pair of well-trained bird dogs will quarter a hunting field. First
+high and then low they swooped back and forth, the tanks lumbering
+slowly along in the same direction. Presently the occupants of the
+leading tank saw one of the planes bank sharply and swing around. It
+dropped to an altitude of only a few hundred feet and turned and went
+back over the ground it had just crossed.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that fellow sees something!" exclaimed Carnes.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, three green Very lights came from the cockpit of the
+plane. The tank driver gave a grunt of satisfaction and turned the
+nose of his vehicle in that direction. The second tank followed.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had they turned in the new direction before the ground began to
+get soft under their tracks and the heavy vehicles began to sink. The
+driver of the Doctor's tank forced it ahead, but the tank sank deeper
+in the mire until water flowed in around the feet of the occupants.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon we'll have to get out and walk pretty soon, Doctor," said
+the driver.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_d.jpg" alt="D" width="57" height="56" /></div>
+
+<p>r. Bird grunted in acquiescence. The tank made its way forward a few
+yards before the engine sputtered and died. The second tank stopped
+when the first one did, fifty yards behind it. Donning vitrilene
+helmets and taking vitrilene shields in their hands, the crews of both
+tanks climbed out into the waist-deep water and gathered around the
+Doctor for orders.</p>
+
+<p>"Form a skirmish line at ten-pace intervals and cross the swamp," he
+directed. "We may meet with no opposition, but if there is, the more
+scattered we are, the safer we will be. You all have hand grenades as
+well as your rifles?"</p>
+
+<p>A murmur of assent answered him and the line formed and started across
+the swamp. They had gone perhaps a hundred yards when three red lights
+came from one of the planes circling overhead.</p>
+
+<p>"Down!" cried the doctor, dropping to his knees in the muck.</p>
+
+<p>Four hundred yards ahead of them a concrete platform emerged from the
+marsh and rose slowly into the air. It was roofed with a dome of what
+looked like plate glass, but which the doctor shrewdly suspected was
+vitrilene. When the base of the platform was two-feet above the level
+of the water the dome slid silently aside disclosing two men bending
+over a tiny gun. Dr. Bird leveled his binoculars.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the Breslau gun model that was stolen as sure as I'm a foot
+high!" he cried. "They must have made some miniature shells and be
+planning to fire it."</p>
+
+<p>Slowly a pall of intense blackness rose from the marsh and enveloped
+the platform and hid it from view. A whining noise came from overhead,
+and then a crash like a thunderbolt. The blast of the explosion threw
+the attackers face down in the swamp, and when they arose and looked
+back there was merely a gaping hole where the leading tank had been.
+The second tank suddenly seemed to rise in the air and fly into
+millions of tiny fragments, and a second thunderous blast sent them
+again to their knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Radite!" bellowed Dr. Bird to Carnes. "Imagine the effect if that had
+been a full charge fired from a completed Breslau gun! Watch the
+planes, now. I think they are going to drop a few eggs on them."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he black mist cleared as if by magic and the platform was in plain
+view. The big glass dome rolled back into place as the two planes
+swept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> over at an elevation of two thousand feet. From each one a
+small black cigar-shaped object was released and fell in a long
+parabola toward the earth. The glass dome which had been closing over
+the gun platform rolled quickly back and a long beam of intense
+blackness pierced the heavens. First one and then the other of the
+falling bombs disappeared from view into it, and then the black column
+faded from view. The two bombs fell with increasing speed but the dome
+closed over the platform before they struck. The two hit the dome at
+almost the same instant and instead of the blinding crash they
+expected, the watchers saw the bombs rebound from the dome and fall
+harmlessly into the water.</p>
+
+<p>"Stymied!" muttered the doctor. "I wonder what other properties that
+confounded lamp has."</p>
+
+<p>He resumed his advance, Carnes and the soldiers keeping abreast of
+him. When they were within two hundred yards of the platform it rose
+again and the transparent dome rolled back. A beam of black shot forth
+over the swamp, searching them out and hiding them from view. First
+one and then another felt the effects of the black beam; but the
+vitrilene which the Doctor had provided stood them in good stead, and,
+aside from a slight shortening of their breath, none of the attackers
+felt any the worse.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, men!" cried the Doctor as his athletic figure plowed forward
+through the breast-deep water. "That is their worst weapon and it is
+harmless against us!"</p>
+
+<p>Cheering, they fought their way toward the platform. It sunk for a
+moment and then rose again. As the dome swung back a sharp crackle of
+machine-gun fire sounded and the water before them was whipped into
+foam by the plunging bullets. One of the soldiers gave a sharp cry and
+slumped forward into the water.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire at will!" shouted the lieutenant in command.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; crackle of rifle fire answered the tattoo of the machine-gun, and
+the sharp ping of bullets striking on the dome could be plainly heard.
+An occasional shot kicked up a spurt of white dust from the concrete,
+but the machine-gun kept up a steady rattle of fire and the soldiers
+kept their heads almost at the level of the water. There came the roar
+of an airplane motor, and one of the planes swept over the platform, a
+hundred yards in the air, with two machine-guns spraying streams of
+bullets onto the platform. Two men abandoned their machine-gun and
+crouched under the partially folded-back dome as the second plane
+swept over, and Dr. Bird took advantage of the lull to advance his
+party a few yards nearer. Again the defenders of the platform rushed
+to their gun, but the first plane had turned and swooped down with
+both guns going, and again they were forced to take shelter while the
+Doctor and his force made another advance.</p>
+
+<p>The second plane had turned and followed the first, but the defenders
+had had enough. The transparent dome closed over them and the platform
+sank into the marsh. With a shout, Dr. Bird led the way forward again.</p>
+
+<p>The attackers were within a hundred yards of the platform when it
+again rose above the surface of the water. The guns had disappeared,
+but in their place stood an airship. It was a small affair with stubby
+wings above which were two helicopter blades revolving at high speed.
+No sound of a motor could be heard.</p>
+
+<p>The transparent dome rolled back and like a bullet the little craft
+shot into the air, followed by a futile volley from the soldiers.
+Hardly had it appeared than the two airplanes bore down on it with
+machine-guns going. The helicopter paid no attention to them for a
+moment, and then came a puff of smoke from its side. The leading plane
+swerved sharply and the helicopter fired again. The leading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> plane
+maneuvered about, trying to get a machine-gun to bear, while the
+second plane climbed swiftly to get above the helicopter and pour a
+deadly stream of fire down into it. It gained position and swooped
+down to the attack, but another puff of smoke came from the side of
+the helicopter and there was a thunderous report and a blinding flash
+in the sky. As the smoke cleared away, no trace of the ill-fated plane
+could be seen. The helicopter hung motionless in the air as though
+daring the remaining plane to attack.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he plane accepted the challenge and bore down at full speed on the
+stranger. Again came a puff of smoke, but the plane swerved and an
+answering shot came from its side. It was above the helicopter, and
+the shell which missed its mark plunged to the ground. When it struck
+there came a roar and a flash and the whole earth seemed to shake. The
+helicopter shot upward into the air and forward, both its elevating
+fans and its propellers whirling blurs of light. The airplane followed
+at its sharpest climbing angle, but was helpless to compete with its
+swifter climbing rival.</p>
+
+<p>"He's got away!" groaned Carnes.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet, old dear!" cried the Doctor hopping with excitement. "He
+isn't safe yet. I never told you, but one Breslau gun had been made
+and it is on that plane. It has deadly accuracy and is good for
+fifteen miles. That's Lieutenant Dreen at the controls and Mason at
+the gun."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke the plane swung around and made a half loop. For a few
+yards it flew upside down and then whirled swiftly. As it turned there
+came a sharp report and a puff of smoke from its rear cockpit. High
+above, the helicopter had ceased climbing and hovered motionless. As
+the plane fired, the helicopter shot forward like an arrow from a bow,
+and thereby spelled its doom. Not for nothing did Captain Mason bear
+the title of the best aerial gunner in the Air Corps. He had foreseen
+what the action of his opponent would be and had allowed for just such
+a move. Far up in the sky came a blinding flash and a cloud of smoke.
+When the smoke cleared the sky was empty, except for a little
+scattered debris falling slowly to the ground.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_a1.jpg" alt="A" width="56" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>nd that's that!" exclaimed Dr. Bird as he finished his examination
+of the underground laboratory with which the gun platform connected.
+"The lamp has gone to glory with Breslau's gun model and two of the
+best brains of the Young Labor party. I am sure that Stanesky was one
+of those two men. I wish the whole gang had been on board."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think that this is the end of it, Doctor?" asked Carnes.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Carnes, I don't. We know that the real brains of this outfit is
+Saranoff, and Saranoff is still alive. He probably won't try to use
+his black lamp again, because I will have a defence against it in a
+short time, now that I have seen it in action, but he'll try something
+else. The whole object of life to a loyal citizen of Bolshevikia is to
+reduce the whole world to the barbarous level in which they hold
+Russia, and they will spare no pains or effort to accomplish it. The
+greatest obstacle to their success at present is the President of the
+United States. He is loved and respected by the whole world, and if he
+is spared he will forge the world into a great machine for the
+preservation of peace and universal good will. That would be fatal to
+Bolshevikia's plans, and they will spare no effort to remove him. By
+the grace of God, we have saved him from harm so far, but until we
+remove Saranoff permanently from the scene, I will never feel safe for
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you suppose they'll try next, Doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>"That, Carnes, time alone will tell."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/image_007.jpg" width="600" height="281" alt="Agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped
+and worried their prey."  />
+<span class="caption">Agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped
+and worried their prey.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="Phalanxes_of_Atlans" id="Phalanxes_of_Atlans"></a>Phalanxes of Atlans</h2>
+
+<h4>BEGINNING A TWO-PART NOVEL</h4>
+<h4><i>By F. V. W. Mason</i></h4>
+
+<h4>CHAPTER I</h4>
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>he ice suddenly gave way under his foot, hurling Victor Nelson
+violently forward to lie in the deep snow at the bottom of a tiny
+crevasse, down which the merciless gale moaned like an anguished
+demon.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Only in dim legends did mankind remember Atlantis and the
+Lost Tribes&mdash;until Victor Nelson's extraordinary adventure in the
+unknown arctic.</div>
+
+<p>"It's no use," he muttered bitterly. "We've fought hard, but we're
+done for."</p>
+
+<p>He lay still, stupidly watching his breath form tiny beads of ice on
+the ends of the fur which lined his parka. Until that moment he had
+not realized how thoroughly exhausted he was. Every muscle of his
+starved, bruised body ached unbearably. It wasn't so bad lying there
+in the soft snow. He could rest, then look later for the ice hummock
+behind which the plane lay sheltered. Rest! That's what he needed, a
+good long rest.</p>
+
+<p>But deep within him, a primal instinct stabbed his waning
+consciousness. "No," he gasped, and blinked his reddened eyes behind
+smoked goggles which dulled the shimmer of the aurora. "If I stop,
+I'll never get up."</p>
+
+<p>Shaken by the terrific velocity of the arctic gale he numbly clambered
+to his feet, then stooped with a stiff awk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>ward motion to retrieve a
+Winchester rifle which lay half buried in the snow beside the blurred
+imprint of his body.</p>
+
+<p>"Wonder if Alden had any better luck?" The question burned dully in
+his brain. "Don't suppose so; there can't be anything alive in this
+God-awful wilderness." As he stumbled on he found no answer in an
+unbroken vista of wind-scored ice and drifting snow that, swirling
+high into the air, momentarily cut off the view of that black line of
+ice-capped mountains barely visible on the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if he hasn't found anything, we'll be dead or frozen stiff
+before to-morrow."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>is soul&mdash;that of a true explorer&mdash;revolted, not at the thought of
+death, but that his and Alden's courageously won discovery of a
+majestic mountain range towering high over a polar region marked
+"unexplored" on the maps would now never be made public.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning forward against the merciless icy blast he painfully picked
+his way over a treacherous ice ridge, to be faintly encouraged by the
+fact that the towerlike hummock of ice marking the position of the
+plane now lay but a few hundred yards ahead.</p>
+
+<p>Bitterly he cursed that demon of ill-fortune who had sent the blinding
+snow storm which had forced down the plane ten long days ago at the
+very beginning of its triumphant return flight to the base at Cape
+Richards. Since that hour the storm gods had emptied the vials of
+their wrath upon the luckless explorers. Day after day, cyclonic winds
+made all thought of a take-off suicidal in the extreme. Three days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+ago the last of their food had given out, and, he mused, starvation is
+an ill companion for despair.</p>
+
+<p>Slip, slide and fall! On he fought until the final barrier was reached
+and he stood staring hopelessly down into a small natural amphitheater
+which sheltered the great monoplane. The ship was still there, its
+engine snugged in a canvas shroud and with the soft, dry snow banked
+up high in the lee of its silver gray fuselage. Numbly, like a man in
+the grip of a painful coma, Nelson shielded his face with a furry hand
+to scan the surrounding terrain. "Hell!" The door block of the igloo
+they had built was still snowed up; Alden was not there!</p>
+
+<p>"He's not back," he muttered, while his body swayed beneath the gale
+which smote him with fierce, unseen fists. "Poor devil, I hope he
+hasn't lost the way."</p>
+
+<p>All the bitterness of undeserved defeat stung his soul as he started
+down the incline into the hollow.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>uddenly he paused. The rifle flew into the ready position and his
+chilled thumb drew back the hammer. "What's this?" On the snow at his
+feet was a bright, scarlet splash, dreadfully distinct against the
+white background. While his dazed brain struggled to register what his
+eyes saw, he looked to the right and left and discovered several more
+of the hideous spots. Then an object that gleamed dully in the polar
+twilight attracted his attention. He lumbered forward, stooped stiffly
+and caught up a long, half round strip of bronze.</p>
+
+<p>"What? Why? Oh&mdash;I'm crazy. I'm seeing things!" The pain in his empty
+stomach was now becoming excruciating. To steady himself he shut his
+eyes, shook his head as though to clear it, then looked again at that
+strip of metal in his hand. Attached to it were two slender strips of
+leather like straps, ending in small, bronze buckles.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's not from the plane," he stammered aloud. "Damned if it
+doesn't look like a greave the old Greek warriors used to wear to
+protect their shins."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly alarmed and mystified beyond words, he shuffled forward over
+the snow, the greave yet clutched in a fur gloved hand. Presently two
+more objects, already half buried by the stinging, swirling drifts,
+caught his attention. One was the stock of Alden's rifle, protruding
+starkly brown from the unrelieved whiteness, and the other was a
+broken wooden shaft that ended a graceful but wickedly sharp bronze
+spear head.</p>
+
+<p>"I've either gone crazy," he said, "or I'm delirious. Yes, I must be
+clean nutty! There <i>couldn't</i> be a human settlement within a thousand
+miles. Let's see what's happened."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n the snow of a little wind-sheltered space behind the igloo he
+discovered the unmistakable and ominous signs of a struggle. An
+indefinite number of footprints, blurred but enormous in size, were
+marked in the snow. Here and there deep furrows mutely testified how
+Alden and the enemies against whom he struggled had reeled back and
+forth in vicious combat over a considerable area. Then, shaken by a
+new fear, he discovered Alden's left glove and a rag of some peculiar
+thick material that seemed to have a metallic finish. But what aroused
+his gravest fears were the numerous splashes of blood that here and
+there streaked the snow in gruesome relief.</p>
+
+<p>Only a moment Nelson stood, shaken by the merciless wind, scanning the
+piece of bronzed armor between his gloved hands with a fresh interest.
+It was beautifully fashioned, and decorated at the knee point with the
+wonderfully wrought figure of a dolphin.</p>
+
+<p>If he could only think clearly! But his brain seemed to lie in a
+red-hot skull. "Whatever's happened," he muttered, "I'd better not
+waste time; they couldn't have been here so long ago. Poor Alden! I
+wonder what kind of devils caught him?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="44" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ven before he had finished the sentence the aviator had taken up the
+partially obliterated trail of spattered blood drops. That what he
+sought appeared to be a maraudering party of giants restrained him not
+at all. The one clear thought burning in his weary brain was that
+Richard Alden, his best friend&mdash;the man with whom he had traveled over
+half the world, by whose side he had faced many a perilous
+situation&mdash;must at that moment lie in peril, the extent of which he
+could only surmise.</p>
+
+<p>"Must have been about a dozen of them," he said thickly. And, holding
+the Winchester ready, he commenced once more to plod on through the
+stinging sheets of wind-driven ice particles. More than once he had
+great difficulty in not losing that crimson trail, for here and there
+the restless, white crystals completely blotted out the splashes.</p>
+
+<p>All at once Nelson checked his pathetically slow progress, finding
+himself on the top of an eminence, looking down in what appeared to be
+a vastly deep natural amphitheater of snow and ice. At the bottom, and
+perhaps a hundred yards distant, was a curious black oval from which
+appeared to rise a dense, wind-whipped column of whitish vapor.</p>
+
+<p>"My eyes must be going back on me," muttered Nelson through stiffened
+lips. How intolerably heavy his fur suit seemed! His strength was
+about gone and that curious black mouthlike circle seemed infinitely
+far away. But, spurred by fears for his friend, he started downward
+for the precipitious trail leading directly towards it.</p>
+
+<p>Once he stepped inside the crater, he became conscious of a terrific
+side pressure which gripped him as a whirlpool seizes a luckless
+swimmer. The wind buffetted him from all angles, dealing him powerful
+blows on face and body, which, too strong for his weary body, sent him
+reeling weakly, drunkenly across the hard, glare ice towards the
+vortex. Twice he slipped, each time finding it harder to arise. But
+at last he approached what on closer inspection proved to be a
+subterranean vent of black rock.</p>
+
+<p>"Steam!" he gasped. "It's steam coming out of there!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>wayed by a dozen conflicting emotions, he paused, the Winchester
+barrel wavering like a reed in his enfeebled grasp.</p>
+
+<p>"The whole thing's crazy," he decided. "I must be frozen and lying
+somewhere, delirious. Poor Dick! Can't help him much now."</p>
+
+<p>Like a man in a nightmare who advances but feels nothing under his
+feet, Nelson staggered on towards that huge, gaping aperture of black
+rock. On the threshold a pool of melted snow water made him stare.</p>
+
+<p>"Hell!" he said. "It's only a volcanic vent of some kind." Then dimly
+came the recollection of Eskimo legends concerning thermal springs
+beyond the desolate and unknown reaches of Grant Land.</p>
+
+<p>His mind in an indescribable turmoil, Nelson splashed across a hundred
+yards of sodden snow, then shivered on wading knee deep through a pool
+of melted ice. Now he stood on the very threshold of that awful
+opening, dense clouds of vapor beating warmly against his chilled
+features.</p>
+
+<p>His goggles fogged at once, blinding him effectively as, with reason
+staggering under the accumulated stress of starvation and the
+circumstances of Alden's disappearance, he groped his way a few feet
+into the vent. With his left hand he pulled up the glasses from his
+sunken, blood-shot eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It's warm, by God!" he cried in astonishment as the skin exposed by
+lifting the goggles came in contact with the air. "Must be some kind
+of earth-warmed cave."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ncreasingly mystified, he caught up his rifle and strode on down the
+passage, at that moment illuminated by the last unearthly rays of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> the
+aurora borealis. A single, dazzling beam played before him like a
+powerful searchlight, to light a high vaulted tunnel of basalt rocks
+which were distorted by some long-gone convulsion of the earth into a
+hundred weird cleavages and faults. For that brief instant he found he
+could see perhaps a hundred feet down into a high roofed passage,
+along the top of which poured a tremendous stream of billowing,
+writhing steam.</p>
+
+<p>"If this doesn't beat all," he murmured; but for all of his
+apprehension he did not pause. Those bloody splashes bespeaking
+Alden's pressing need urged him on. "Looks like I'm taking a one way
+trip into Hell itself. Well, we'll soon see."</p>
+
+<p>Slipping and sliding over an almost impassable array of black rocks
+and boulders, Nelson fought his way forward, conscious that with every
+stride the air grew damper and warmer. Soon trickles of sweat were
+pouring down over his chest, tickling unbearably.</p>
+
+<p>Then all at once the ray of light faded, leaving him immersed in a
+blackness equalled only by the gloom of a subterranean vault. He
+stopped and, resting his rifle against a nearby invisible rock, threw
+back the parka hood and pulled off his gloves. He was amazed to feel
+how warm the strong air current was on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Beats all," he muttered heavily. "I wonder where they've taken
+Alden?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>eanwhile his hands groped through fur garments now wet with
+melted-snow and ice particles, searching for the catch to open that
+pocket in which lay a small but powerful electric flashlight, an
+instrument without which no far-flying aviator finds himself. After a
+moment's fumbling, his yet stiffened fingers encountered the
+cylindrical flash and, with a low cry of satisfaction, he drew it
+forth to press the button.</p>
+
+<p>"Mighty useful. I&mdash;" The words stopped, frozen on his lips. Before the
+parka edge his close cropped hair seemed to rise, and his breath
+stopped midway in his lungs. Sharp electric shocks shook him, for
+there, half revealed in the feeble flashlight's glare, was a sight
+which shook his sanity to the snapping point. Not fifty feet away two
+eyes, large as dinner plates, with narrow vertical red irises, were
+trained on him. Rooted to the ground by the paralysis of utter horror,
+Nelson saw that their color was a weird, unhealthy, greenish white,
+rather like the color of a radio-light watch dial.</p>
+
+<p>Strangely intense, these huge orbs wavered not at all, filling him
+with an unnameable dread, while the strong odor of musk assailed his
+nostrils. The flashlight slipped from between Nelson's fingers and, no
+longer having his thumb on the button, flickered out.</p>
+
+<p>Helpless, Nelson stood transfixed against a boulder, aware that the
+strange, musky scent was becoming stronger. Then to his ears came a
+dry scrabbling as of some large body stealthily advancing. Those
+horrible, unearthly eyes were coming nearer! Fierce, terrible shocks
+of fear gripped the exhausted aviator. Then the impulse of
+self-preservation, that most elementary of all instincts, forced him
+to snatch up the rifle, to sight hastily, blindly, between those two,
+great greenish eyes. Choking out a strangled sob of desperation,
+Nelson made his trembling finger close over the cold strip of steel
+that must be the trigger.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ike a stage trick, the cavern was momentarily lit by a strong, orange
+yellow glare. Then the Winchester's report thundered and roared
+deafeningly; coincidentally arose a nerve-shattering scream. An
+exhalation, foul as a corpse long unburied, fanned his face.
+Terrified, he flattened to the rock wall as a huge, though dangerously
+agile body hurtled by with the speed of a runaway horse. Presently
+followed the sound of a ponderous fall, then a series of shrill,
+ear-piercing gibberings and squeakings, like those of a titanic
+rat&mdash;squeaks that rang like the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> chorus of Hell itself. Gradually they
+grew fainter, while in the darkness the heavy air of the tunnel became
+rank with the odor of clotting blood.</p>
+
+<p>Nelson remained where he was, shaking like a frightened horse and
+bathed with a cold sweat.</p>
+
+<p>"Wonder what it was?" he muttered numbly.</p>
+
+<p>He broke off, for in the terrible darkness sounded a low but perfectly
+audible <i>thud! thud! thud! thud!</i>&mdash;and also the subtle noise of some
+rough surface rasping gently over the stone. His nerves crisped and
+shrieked for relief.</p>
+
+<p>"It's coming again!" he told himself, and ejected the spent cartridge
+from the Winchester. "No use&mdash;it'll get me, but I may as well fight as
+long as I can."</p>
+
+<p>Even stronger grew the musty smell of blood while that uncanny <i>thud!
+thud!</i> sound continued at regular intervals. Nelson waited, breath
+halted and finger on trigger, but still the darkness yielded no
+glimpse of those awful saucer-like eyes.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="44" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>mboldened, he stooped and, jerking off his left glove, commenced to
+grope among the boulders. Somewhere near at his feet the flashlight
+must be lying. Hoping against hope that its fall had not shattered the
+bulb, he ran his fingers over the cold, damp stones, every instant
+expecting to feel the clutch of the unseen monster. How tiny, how puny
+he was! All at once his fingers encountered the smooth familiar shape
+of the flash and he raised it cautiously through the darkness.
+Patiently he shifted the Winchester to his left hand in order to set
+the flashlight on the top of a flat rock, pointing it as nearly as he
+could determine in the direction from whence came those ominous,
+stealthy sounds.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess I'll switch on the light," he decided, "and trust to drop
+whatever it is before it reaches me."</p>
+
+<p>Taking a fresh grip on his quivering nerves, Nelson cautiously cocked
+the .38-55, cuddled the familiar stock to his shoulder. He sighted,
+then with his right hand pushed down the catch lever of the
+flashlight.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly a dazzling white beam shot forth to shatter the gloom. The
+hair on the back of Nelson's hands itched unbearably, while the cold
+fingers of madness clutched at his brain, for the sight which met his
+eyes all but bereft him of his wavering sanity. There, belly up,
+across a low ridge of basalt, lay a hideous reptile, which in form
+faintly resembled an enormous and fantastic kangaroo. Its scabby belly
+was of the unhealthy yellow of a grub, a hue which gave way to a
+leaden gray as the wart-covered skin reached the back. Two enormous
+hind legs, each thick as a man's torso and each equipped with three
+dagger-like talons, struck out in helpless fury at the air, while a
+long, lizard-like tail threshed powerfully back and forth, scattering
+ponderous boulders right and left as though they had been marbles. The
+flashlight being trained as it was, the monster's head and
+forequarters were invisible, all save two very much smaller and
+shorter front legs which, like the hinder ones, clawed spasmodically.</p>
+
+<p>"The D. T's!" gasped Nelson, conscious that he was trembling like an
+aspen. He suppressed a wild desire to laugh. "Yes, I've gone crazy!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e glanced downwards and leaped swiftly back, for, creeping over the
+stones towards his fur outer boots, meandered a wide rivulet of bright
+scarlet blood. From its surface rose small curling feathers of steam
+which, drifting towards the tunnel's roof, merged with that gray,
+vaporous current flowing steadily towards the sunless Arctic expanse
+outside.</p>
+
+<p>It took Nelson a long five minutes to sufficiently recover his
+equilibrium for action. All he could do was to stare at that
+grotesque, gargoyle-like creature as it writhed in leisurely and
+persistent death throes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Guess I winged it all right! My God, what a nasty beast! Looks like
+one of those allosaurs I read about in college. It couldn't be,
+though&mdash;that tribe of dinosaurs died out five million years ago."</p>
+
+<p>Cautiously he scrambled around among the high black stones, casting
+the search light beams before him and holding the Winchester always
+ready in his hand while trying to recall snatches of palaeontology
+studied at college long years ago.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it must be a survival of one of the carnivorous dinosaurs," he
+decided, then paused, increasingly conscious of that steady thudding
+noise. What caused it?</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t last he found himself before the creature's gigantic and repulsive
+head which lay limp over a blood bathed stone, huge jaws partially
+open, and serrated rows of wicked, stiletto-sharp teeth gleaming
+yellowly in the flashlight's rays. The head in shape was bullet-like,
+ending in a blunt nose as big as a bushel basket and in two prominent
+nostrils. The green, lidless eyes were still open, shining faintly,
+and seemed to follow his movements, but the steaming blood poured with
+the force of a small hose from between triple row of bayonetlike teeth
+that curved inward like those of a shark, to splash and bubble freely
+to the rock floor and to dribble horribly over the warty, gray hide.</p>
+
+<p>Then Nelson discovered an amazing fact. About the great scaly neck,
+thick as a boy's waist, was fastened a ponderous collar, set with
+short, sharp spikes.</p>
+
+<p>Nelson gasped. "What in hell!" he cried. "This damn thing's somebody's
+property!" His mind, staggered at the thought of dealing with a race
+that could and would domesticate such a hideous monster. "Well, it's
+no use standing here," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his eyes.
+"This isn't getting poor Alden away from those devils."</p>
+
+<p><i>Thud! thud!</i> In the act of turning he paused, listened once more.
+Then he discovered to his amazement that the heart of the apparently
+dead reptile was still beating strongly. He could even see the yellow
+skin of its belly rise and fall. The effect was grotesque, uncanny.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," muttered the shaken aviator, "I'd forgotten a reptile's
+ganglions will keep on beating for hours, like that shark we killed
+off Paumotu. Its heart didn't stop for five hours."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>eaving the slain allosaurus behind, the aviator limped onwards,
+doggedly following a trail which wound down, ever onwards, into the
+depths of the earth. Gradually the air became so filled with steam
+that he stripped off his fur jumper and trousers. Clad in a khaki
+flannel shirt, serge trousers and shoepacks, he paused long enough to
+count his cartridges, and found there were just fourteen. Hell! Not
+very many with which to venture into an unknown abyss. He distributed
+them in his pockets, and, somewhat relieved of the weight of the fur
+suit, took up his advance, playing the flashlight ahead of him as he
+went.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Alden," he thought. "I wonder if he's still alive?"</p>
+
+<p>Every moment expecting to stumble over the mangled corpse of his
+friend he hurried on, making better time over the cavern floor, but
+soon even the lighter clothing commenced to feel oppressive.</p>
+
+<p>"Must be the earth's heat," he muttered, while the steam clouds rolled
+by him like ghostly serpents. "Guess the crust is very thin
+here&mdash;something like Yellowstone. Probably I'll find some thermal
+springs ahead."</p>
+
+<p>Just as he spoke the tunnel took a sharp turn to the right. He
+scrambled around the bend to stand petrified, for with the suddenness
+of lightning a flood of dazzling orange-red light sprang into being.
+Momentarily it blinded him, then revealed strange, incomprehensible
+scenes. It appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> that two short shafts of incandescent flame
+roared through transparent columns of glass on either side of the
+passage some fifty yards distant. Subconsciously Nelson realized that
+these columns began and ended in stonework that was smooth and well
+joined.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>s his eyes became accustomed to the glare he distinguished beside
+each light pillar two bronze doors, some eight feet high and
+semicircular in shape. These had been evidently pulled back to expose
+the lights. Then his breath stopped in his throat, for there, standing
+beside them, was a gleaming group of six or eight of the strangest
+creatures Nelson could ever have imagined. They were men&mdash;there was no
+mistaking that&mdash;men of normal size, but they were so helmeted and
+incased in a curious type of armor that for a moment he believed them
+gargoyles.</p>
+
+<p>Quite motionless he stood, clutching the cold barrel of the Winchester
+in a spasmodic grip and staring up at those two watch-towers, built
+like gigantic swallows' nests into sheer rock wall. He could see the
+warriors stationed there, peering curiously down at him from the
+depths of heavy, bronze helmets&mdash;helmets which in shape much resembled
+those of an ancient Grecian hoplite, for the nose guards and cheek
+pieces descended so low as to completely mask the features of those
+strange guards. For crests these helmets bore exquisitely wrought
+bronze dolphins, with brilliant blue eyes of sapphire. But what
+fascinated Nelson most was the curious armor they wore. Beneath breast
+plates of polished bronze, these strange warriors wore what seemed to
+be a kind of chain mail&mdash;yet it was not that, for the texture had more
+the appearance of some heavy but pliant leather, finished with a
+metallic surfacing.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the spell of mutual amazement was broken, for a tall warrior
+in a breast plate that glittered with diamonds and seemed altogether
+more ornate than the rest, clapped a short brass horn to his lips and
+blew a single piercing note. At once there appeared on the tunnel's
+floor, not a hundred yards from the startled aviator, a rank of
+perhaps twenty soldiers, accoutred exactly like those he beheld by the
+light boxes. They came scrambling over the boulders, their shadows
+grotesquely preceding them. In their hands were long shafted spears,
+and on their left arms rectangular shields, charged with a lively
+dolphin in the act of swimming. Some of them, however, held short
+hoses in their hands, hoses that sprouted from tight brass coils
+strapped to their broad shoulders.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>gain the commanding figure aloft raised the horn. From the tail of
+his eye Nelson caught the gleam of metal in the orange glare. While a
+blast, harsh as the scream of a fire siren, echoed and re-echoed
+eerily through the passage, there appeared a fresh detachment. Nelson
+shrank back in horror, for these bronze-armored warriors led, at the
+end of a powerful chain, two more of those huge, ferocious allosaurs,
+exactly like the one he had slain but a short while back.</p>
+
+<p>Like well regulated automatons the hoplite rank opened to permit the
+passage of those repulsive, eager monsters, then closed up again and
+halted, spears levelled before them in the precise manner of an
+ancient Grecian phalanx, while the men with those curious hose-like
+contrivances ran out to guard the flanks.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm done for now," thought Nelson as he threw off the Winchester's
+safety catch. "I suppose they'll turn those nightmares loose on me."</p>
+
+<p>He was right. For all the world as though they led war dogs, the
+keepers in brazen armor advanced, the dull metallic clank of their
+accoutrement clearly discernible above the sibilant hiss of their
+hideous charges, which hopped along grotesquely like kangaroos, using
+their long and powerful tails as a counterpoise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then the officer watching from the left hand swallow's nest shouted a
+hoarse, unintelligible command, whereupon one of the keepers raised
+his right hand in a sharp gesture that instantly flattened the
+incredible monster to earth, exactly like an obedient bird dog.</p>
+
+<p>As in a fantastic dream Nelson watched one of the armored guardians
+unsnap the hook of the powerful chain by which his allosaurus was
+secured. Then, whistling sharply, he clapped his hands and pointed
+straight at the motionless aviator. The creature's green white eyes
+flickered back and forth, and a chill, colder than the outer Arctic,
+invaded Nelson's breast as those unearthly eyes came to rest upon him.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>eanwhile the other allosaurus remained crouched, whining impatiently
+for its keepers to cast it loose.</p>
+
+<p>Fixing burning eyes upon the American, the foremost keeper threw back
+his head. "Ahre-e-e!" he shouted. Instantly the freed allosaurus
+arose, balanced its enormous bulk, then commenced to leap forward at
+tremendous speed, clearing fifteen or twenty feet with each jump and
+uttering a curious, whistling scream as it bore down, a terrifying
+vision of gleaming teeth and talons.</p>
+
+<p>Shaking off the paralysis of despair, Nelson whipped up the Winchester
+and, as before, sighted squarely between those blazing, gemlike eyes.
+When the huge monster was but twenty feet away he fired, and the
+report thundered and banged in the cavern like the crash of a summer
+storm. In mid-air the ghastly carnivore teemed to stagger. Its tail
+twitched sharply as in an effort to recover its balance. Then, quite
+like any normal creature that is shot through the head, it lost all
+sense of direction and made great convulsive leaps, around and around,
+clawing madly at the air, bumping into the rock walls and uttering
+soul-shaking shrieks of agony. Like a gargoyle gone mad it reeled back
+towards the startled rank of spearmen. As it came, Nelson saw the
+second allosaurus rear itself backwards and, balanced on its tail,
+strike out with powerful hind legs as its maddened fellow drew near.</p>
+
+<p>Like razors the great talons ripped through the dying allosaurus'
+belly, exposing the gray-red intestines as the stricken creature raced
+by, snapping crazily at the empty air.</p>
+
+<p>A single mighty sweep of the monster's tail crushed five or six of the
+panic-stricken keepers and guards, strewing them like broken and
+abandoned marionettes among the stones. Hissing and obviously
+terrified, the second dinosaur watched the dying struggles of its
+mate; then, obedient to a terrified shout from its keepers, wheeled
+about to join in a frantic rout of the spearmen, who, casting aside
+shield, spear and brass coil, fled for dear life in the direction of
+those invisible passages through which they had appeared.</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER II</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div>
+<p>o less amazed and alarmed than those vanished soldiers, Nelson
+remained rooted to the ground, conscious that in the swallow's nest
+overhead there remained only the officer&mdash;a tall, broad shouldered man
+with golden beard showing from under the cheek pieces of his helmet.
+Across the body of the still writhing monster their glances met.
+Nelson could see by the light of those strange pillars of fire that
+the other's eyes were blue as any Norseman's. Leaning far out over the
+stone parapet the other stared down upon the aviator from the depths
+of his jewelled helmet in a strange mixture of curiosity and awe.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Nelson's nerves snapped and he shook a trembling fist at the
+martial figure above.</p>
+
+<p>"Go away!" he shrieked, and reeled back on the edge of collapse. "Go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+away, you damn phantom! You're driving me crazy&mdash;crazy, I tell you!"</p>
+
+<p>The other stiffened, then turned and, uttering a hoarse shout,
+vanished, leaving the noiseless and apparently heatless pillar of fire
+flaring steadily.</p>
+
+<p>Recovering somewhat, Nelson set his teeth, advanced to the nearest
+corpse, stooped and regarded him who lay there, with bronze helmet
+fallen off.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a man and not a ghost," he murmured as his finger encountered
+flesh that was still warm. "Red headed too, or I'm a liar. Now what in
+hell is all this?"</p>
+
+<p>For all his bewilderment he began to feel better and his swaying
+reason became steadier. "Bronze, bronze&mdash;nothing but bronze," the
+aviator told himself as he further examined the scattered equipment.
+"Evidently these fellows don't know the use of iron or steel."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ith increased curiosity he bent over another splendidly built dead
+man who lay with back broken and sightless eyes staring fixedly onto
+the steam current meandering silently along the cavern's roof. From
+the fallen man's belt were slung half a dozen curious weapons that
+looked not unlike potato mashers, except that they were bronze headed
+and had wooden handles.</p>
+
+<p>"Hum," he commented, "kind of like the grenades the Boche used in the
+late lamented. Wonder what the devil these are?"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his ear detected the sound of a footstep and, on looking
+swiftly up, he beheld that same yellow bearded officer who had
+directed the attack. This strange being had taken off his ponderous
+helmet to carry it in his left hand, while his right was held
+vertically in the immemorial sign of peace. On he came with powerful
+martial strides, a brilliant green cloak flapping gently behind him
+and the jewels in his brazen armor glinting like so many tiny colored
+eyes. The stranger was indeed handsome, Nelson noticed&mdash;and then he
+received perhaps the greatest shock of the whole chimerical adventure.
+The gold bearded man halted some twenty feet away, smiled and spoke in
+a curiously inflected but perfectly recognizable voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome to the Empire of the Atlans. Prithee, Wanderer, what be thy
+name?"</p>
+
+<p>For a long moment Nelson was entirely too taken back to make a reply.
+Desperately his already perplexed brain tried to comprehend. Here was
+a handsome six-footer, dressed in the arms of an ancient race,
+speaking English of the seventeenth century!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>s at a phantom, he regarded the stalwart, faintly ominous figure,
+from heavy leather sandals to bronze greaves, thence to wide belt from
+which dangled more of those curious grenadelike objects. His glance
+paused on the officer's beautifully wrought bronze cuirasse or breast
+plate which showed in relief an emerald scaled dolphin and trident.
+These, Nelson decided, must be the national emblems of this
+incomprehensible nation.</p>
+
+<p>Then their eyes met, held each other a long moment until the tall
+officer's features, disfigured by a long red scar across the jaw,
+broke into a hard smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Hero Giles Hudson begs thy pardon," he said, "but methought thou
+spoke in the language of Sir Henry Hudson, my ancestor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Henry Hudson!" stammered Nelson incredulously. "The old explorer
+whose men turned him adrift? So that's why you're talking embalmed
+English!" In desperation his weary brain strove to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"I know naught," replied the other with a grave smile, "save that the
+founder of our royal line spoke what he called English. He came from
+the Ice World to rule wisely over Atlans. He was the greatest
+Atlantean of history."</p>
+
+<p>"Atlantean?" echoed Nelson, while his mind groped frantically in the
+recess of his memory. "Atlans, Atlan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>tis!" A great light broke upon
+him. "The lost Atlantis! Great God!" Had he stumbled upon a remnant of
+that powerful people whose fabled empire had been drowned ten
+centuries ago in the cold waves of the Atlantic?</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_a1.jpg" alt="A" width="56" height="52" /></div>
+
+<p>ye," the yellow haired warrior continued as though reading his
+thoughts, "long centuries ago this valley was peopled by those who
+escaped the great cataclysm which ended the mother country. Later came
+another race, barbarian wanderers like thyself." He bowed for all the
+world like a courtly English gentleman. "But methinks thou art in need
+of food and sustenance?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet I'm hungry," was Nelson's emphatic reply. "I'm one short jump
+of starvation and the D. T.'s. But hold on a minute," he cried. "I'm
+looking for a friend of mine. He went by here, didn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aye." A crafty expression Nelson did not like crept into Hero Giles
+Hudson's face as he solemnly inclined his head.</p>
+
+<p>"For the nonce, fair sir, thy companion is hale and sound. I beg your
+patience."</p>
+
+<p>With a quick gesture the Atlantean raised his dolphin-shaped horn and
+blew three short blasts while Nelson, in sudden alarm, cocked his
+rifle and brought it in line with the other's chest. The glittering
+officer saw the motion, but made no effort to move from the line of
+sights.</p>
+
+<p>"Thy gesture avails naught," said he with stiff courtesy. "When Hero
+Giles gives his word, it stands good though Heliopolis and the Empire
+of the Atlans fall."</p>
+
+<p>One by one half a dozen spearmen appeared, all obviously very
+frightened and only moved by an apparently Spartan discipline.
+Promptly they saluted, whereupon the Hero&mdash;as his title appeared to
+be&mdash;uttered a number of brief commands in some guttural language
+entirely unintelligible to the dazed aviator.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>resently a strange column appeared, composed of some fifteen or
+twenty disarmed men marching between a double rank of heavily equipped
+hoplites. As they drew near, they clasped imploring hands and
+evidently begged for mercy from the stern, tight jawed figure at
+Nelson's side. Contemptuous and unhearing the prisoners' piteous
+pleadings and lamentations, Hero Giles scowled upon them and
+deliberately turned his back.</p>
+
+<p>"What are they?" inquired Nelson, vaguely alarmed. "Enemies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." There was a certain bitter savagery in the speaker's voice.
+"These are the dauntless defenders of Atlans who ran at the report of
+thy weapon. Presently they die."</p>
+
+<p>It was useless to interfere. The horrified aviator knew it and watched
+with compassionate eyes while the condemned soldiers were ranged in a
+single, white faced line. They remained silent now, seeming to have
+found courage now that hope was dead.</p>
+
+<p>Upon brief command from a subaltern, the guards wheeled about and
+retreated perhaps twenty yards down the passage. There they halted,
+glittering eyes peering through the slots in their helmets to fix
+themselves upon the rigid prisoners who stood numbly resigned to
+death.</p>
+
+<p>With surprising speed each member of that weird firing squad detached
+a brazen grenade from his belt, then threw back his arm in exactly the
+same attitude as a bomb-throwing doughboy. Then there came a short,
+sharp command and some fifteen or twenty grenades bobbed through the
+air to crash on the stones at the feet of the victims.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>is head swimming with repulsion at the slaughter, Nelson beheld a
+curious sight. It seemed that from the broken grenades appeared a
+yellowish green vapor which sprung <i>of its own accord</i> upon the silent
+upright rank! In an instant it settled like falling snow upon the
+doomed soldiers. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> a breathless fraction of a second they stood,
+eyes wide with horror, then collapsed, kicking and struggling as men
+do under the influence of gas.</p>
+
+<p>"Horrible!" gasped Nelson. "What was in the bombs?"</p>
+
+<p>"A vapor," explained Hero Giles shortly. "A fungus vapor which,
+falling upon exposed flesh, instantly invades the blood and multiplies
+by millions. See&mdash;" He pointed to the nearest dead man and Nelson,
+with starting eyes, watched a yellowish growth commencing to sprout
+from the dead man's nostrils. Swiftly the poisonous mould threw out
+tiny branches, spreading with astounding rapidity over the skin until,
+in less than a minute after the grenades had exploded, the whole
+tumbled heap of dead were covered with a horrible yellow green fungus
+growth.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou seest?" Hero Giles demanded. "Powerful, is it not? It is against
+the fungus vapor we wear this body armor made from the skin of a small
+lizard which inhabits our mountains."</p>
+
+<p>Shocked and appalled, Nelson watched the retreat of the solemn, silent
+execution party.</p>
+
+<p>Other soldiers fell to unconcernedly stripping their fallen comrades
+of equipment; then, to Nelson's horrified surprise, two hideous
+allosauri reappeared, shepherded by some six or eight keepers. Once
+the horrible creatures were released, they pounced upon the dead and,
+snarling horribly, commenced to rend and devour the corpses.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>oo shaken to comment or to make the protest he knew to be futile,
+Nelson followed the stalwart English-speaking officer into a bronze
+door set in the cavern wall and up a short flight of stairs into what
+appeared to be a guard room, where food and wine were immediately set
+before the famished aviator.</p>
+
+<p>"Yea," Hero Giles was saying as he set down a beautiful goblet and
+wiped the last traces of wine from his beard, "we will soon o'ertake
+thy friend. He was but little hurt, and thou wilt assuredly join him
+in judgment before our great Emperor, Altorius XXII, at Heliopolis,
+our capital."</p>
+
+<p>"Heliopolis?" mumbled Nelson, his mouth full of delicious stew that
+seemed to be made of veal. "Heliopolis? How far away is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"A hundred leagues more or less," the other smiled. "Almost a third of
+the distance up this great valley."</p>
+
+<p>"One hundred leagues! Three hundred miles! Then we won't be there for
+several days."</p>
+
+<p>The Hero's deep, rather ominous laughter rang out in the little rock
+hewn chamber. "Days?" he jeered. "Days? Art thou mad? In two hours
+from the time we board the tube-road thou shalt learn thy fate from
+his Serene Highness."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" Nelson's sunken and blood-shot gray eyes widened, while his
+jaw dropped incredulously. "One hundred leagues in two hours? As I
+remember there are about three miles to a league, so a hundred leagues
+in two hours means one hundred and fifty miles an hour! Why, that's
+utterly impossible! The Twentieth Century Limited doesn't go half so
+fast."</p>
+
+<p>Several enormous emeralds set into the other's bronze cuirasse
+glittered softly and the Hero's cold blue eyes hardened as his hand
+sought the grenade belt.</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible? Dost doubt my words, sirrah?" With an effort he
+controlled himself. "Nay, thou shalt see for thyself ere long. The
+tube-road runs from Heracles to Heliopolis. Thou canst trace its
+course on this map here on the wall."</p>
+
+<p>"The dog-born devils of Jarmuth have no such means of travel,"
+continued the Atlantean, with a touch of smug pride that reminded
+Nelson of a small town Middle Westerner speaking of the "rightest,
+tightest little town west of the Mississippi."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson found it extremely weird to be sitting there in a heavy arm
+chair, drinking good red wine with a fierce armor-clad warrior who
+wore sandals,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> sword and a war cloak such as might have graced the
+limbs of Alexander of Macedon. But with the food and rich warm wine,
+he felt blood, strength and self-confidence pouring back into his
+weary body. "Jarmuth?" he inquired. "What is Jarmuth?"</p>
+
+<p>At his question the domineering, predatory face across the table
+darkened and the scar on his cheek flamed red as a scowl of hatred
+gripped Hero Giles' visage.</p>
+
+<p>"Jarmuth!" snarled the Hero, and his great hand closed like a vise.
+"Jarmuth! A nation of treacherous, gold-adoring cannibals, whose
+countless hordes, spawned in the hot lowlands, ever threaten our
+frontiers. I tell thee, Friend Nelson, the dog-sired Jereboam will not
+rest until mighty Heliopolis lies in a heap of smoking ashes."</p>
+
+<p>"Evidently," thought Nelson, taken aback at the other's vehemence,
+"this lad's English only in speech. I guess he's all Atlantean outside
+of that."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>arming to a fiercer pitch, the other fixed his guest with a
+smoldering gaze. "Jarmuth lies beyond Apidanus, the boiling river, and
+is the home of a savage horde whose horrid rites in Jezreel, the
+capital, stink as an offense to Saturn and the High Gods! Why, mark
+you," the warrior prince continued, interrupting his tirade to gulp a
+goblet of wine, "five years ago, by treachery, they seized the
+beauteous Altara, sister of our gracious Emperor, and upon the annual
+feast of Beelzebub, that vile demon they worship, the dark dogs would
+have sacrificed and devoured her, according to their rites, had not
+our Emperor dispatched a ransom of six fair maidens to take her place.</p>
+
+<p>"Every year since then Jereboam has exacted that same tribute. Every
+year their princes and priests gorge themselves on the tender white
+flesh of our fairest and noblest maidens. But this tribute must end!
+The augurs have told us so. Help will come from the Ice World." Hero
+Giles brought crashing down on the table a brawny fist, on whose
+wrist was fixed a bright, gem-studded bracelet.</p>
+
+<p>Horror-stricken, Nelson nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"It is for this alone," continued the Hero somberly, "that thy life
+and that of thy friend have been spared."</p>
+
+<p>"So? I didn't notice," broke in Nelson, "that you particularly went
+out of your way to preserve my health a while back."</p>
+
+<p>The heavy golden head shook slowly and a grim smile played about those
+thin cruel lips. "Nay, but I could have had thee slain. Come, as we go
+to the tube-road I'll show thee how much thou liest in the hollow of
+this, my hand." He thrust out a broad, powerful palm. "Forget not,
+fair sir. At any moment I or my Imperial Master may choose to close
+that hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps!" stated Nelson, feeling it imperative to keep up his pose of
+independence. "But it might just happen that your hand would close on
+a porcupine, and so far from hurting the porcupine it would be your
+hand that would be hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"Sirrah!" The Atlantean sprang to his feet and one hand shot to the
+grip of his ponderous, bronze sword; but even more quickly Nelson
+snatched up his rifle, a thin smile playing on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Drop it," he snapped. "Control yourself, or I'll plug you like that
+allosaur. Be reasonable, can't you? We both want something, and
+perhaps can help each other gain it."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he taut, menacing figure in armor relaxed and, with a gentle clank of
+accoutrement, Hero Giles resumed his seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Prithee pardon me," he apologized ungraciously. "I was ever a
+hot-head and there is much in what thou sayest. We wish to force an
+end to this annual tribute&mdash;if not to regain our beloved Altara. And
+thou"&mdash;his heavy, golden eyebrows shot up&mdash;"and thou, what dost thou
+wish?"</p>
+
+<p>Nelson lowered the menacing barrel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> "I want the return of Richard
+Alden, free passage back to that spot where he was captured and plenty
+of food and help should we need it. If I aid you in one, you must
+promise me in the other."</p>
+
+<p>"Aye," returned the other doubtfully. "But I myself can pledge naught
+save thy immediate safety. 'Tis for our Imperial Majesty to say
+whether both thou and thy friend shall live, or whether ye shall feed
+our war dogs. Come now, we must go to Heliopolis."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image_008.jpg" width="400" height="434" alt="Map of Jarmuth and Atlans"  />
+<span class="caption">Map of Jarmuth and Atlans</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Picking up his heavy, bronze helmet the Atlantean prince set it on his
+yellow head and waited impatiently for Nelson to drain the last of his
+wine. Then, with a swirl of his green cloak, he vanished through the
+rock wall, closely followed by a singularly distracted and alarmed
+aviator.</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER III</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;bright yellow glare steadily increased to mark the end of the tunnel
+down which the two had progressed; then, with the sharp abruptness of
+a hand-clap, there resounded a loud challenge in that unintelligible
+Atlantean language, above which the hiss of steam could be loudly
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the Atlantean prince strode forward, a commanding figure.
+Momentarily his helmet and the dangling grenadelike bombs were sharply
+outlined against that unearthly yellow light. He raised his hand and
+dropped it, palm outward, to his chin in what must have been a salute.
+The hissing sound of steam then faded into silence.</p>
+
+<p>Followed at a respectful distance by a pair of silent, bronze-helmeted
+hoplites, Nelson and his guide descended a narrow stair, which
+broadened at the base. It was a very long staircase composed of
+perhaps two or three hundred steps which were occasionally interrupted
+by wide stone terraces. On these level spaces were fixed what appeared
+to be enormous field guns of glittering brass. They were similar, yet
+somehow oddly dissimilar, to the great guns Nelson had seen in
+France.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Behold, oh Wanderer," Hero Giles declaimed impressively, "the lands
+of Atlans and Jarmuth!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a weird landscape that met Nelson's half-unbelieving gaze, a
+landscape green with that brilliance peculiar to spring meadows, lying
+beneath the same deep blue sky that overarched the surrounding barren
+ice fields which hemmed in this astounding valley.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; slight smile played over Hero Giles' thin lips as he watched the
+amazed aviator.</p>
+
+<p>"The splendor of our country must indeed astound thee," he observed,
+"having come from the dreary fastness of the outer Ice World. But
+come; we are now to pass the great retortii guarding the entrance into
+the valley."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson's eyes turned again to the weapons that so oddly resembled
+field guns. He examined them closely, inspecting them narrowly for the
+differences he knew must exist between them and the artillery that had
+thundered during the War of the Nations.</p>
+
+<p>The chief difference lay in the mounting of these starkly beautiful
+weapons. They seemed to be fixed on a movable pivot set into the coal
+black rock itself. Like modern artillery, these curious pieces of
+ordnance bore a bronze shield to protect their crews, through which
+projected the long and very narrow barrels of the guns. Grouped like
+cannoneers about their piece stood various red-crested Atlantean
+artillerymen. At a glance Nelson recognized the difference in their
+equipment from that of the spearmen behind them. These former bore no
+shields, no swords or bombs, but wore that same kind of leather
+body-armor which graced the powerful limbs of Hero Giles. Their
+helmets, too, were different: only the dolphin crest with a tuft of
+red feathers spouting from it bore any resemblance to those of the
+infantry, and, moreover, the artillerymen's eyes were shielded by
+goggles with thick blue lenses.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>s the Hero approached, officers among them saluted, then sank on one
+knee with head humbly bent.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather odd looking guns," commented Nelson. "I'm not much of an
+artilleryman, but I'm wondering how you take up the recoil?"</p>
+
+<p>The Atlantean's laugh, which always reminded his guest of the purr of
+a tiger, rang out. "Why, marry, good sir, there is no recoil! These
+guns do not use that powder which Sir Henry, founder of our line, did
+speak of. Thou wouldst see one fired?"</p>
+
+<p>His curiosity immeasurably piqued, Nelson nodded, whereupon the
+Atlantean wheeled about and barked a brief command. With truly
+Prussian precision, the artillerymen sprang to their posts, some to a
+series of levers which sprouted from the rock platform without any
+apparent connection, and some to wheels and gauges of varying size
+that clustered in bewildering intricacy about the breech of the great
+brass gun.</p>
+
+<p>"Markest thou that tree yonder, on the ledge of the valley?" The
+Atlantean's blunt outstretched finger indicated a towering pine
+sprouting from among a mass of reddish volcanic rock at the rim of
+that new world.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see it, but&mdash;" Nelson was astounded. A pine tree in the upper
+Arctic! That alone was sufficient cause for amazement. From a stiff
+red-plumed gun captain issued a brief series of commands which set the
+wonderfully drilled crew to silently adjusting their training and
+elevating mechanism. Click! Clack! Sis-s-s-s!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ll up and down the vast staircase other gun crews stood watching.
+Nelson saw their weird, bluish goggles raised to that platform where,
+for all the world like a coast defense howitzer, the great cannon
+swung majestically about on the ponderous, brazen column which seemed
+to support it. Gradually the muzzle was elevated, then traversed a few
+feet, to finally come to a halt.</p>
+
+<p>"Jakul, a Hero!" shouted the gun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> captain, his hand raised to Hero
+Giles.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art ready, Friend Nelson?" he inquired in tolerant amusement.
+"Mark well yon pine tree!</p>
+
+<p>"Storr!"</p>
+
+<p>Nelson saw one of the armored cannoneers bend forward, firmly grasp a
+short lever with both hands. In anticipation of a terrific report, the
+aviator pressed finger tips to his ears. There followed not a
+thundering crash, but a curious, eery, high-pitched scream, rather
+like that of a fire siren. There was no smoke! Nelson's incredulous
+eyes sought the muzzle of the gun and detected issuing from it what
+appeared to be a thin, white rod. This shimmering stream of silver
+shot straight towards the pine tree, gradually widening and giving off
+feathery billows of steam. In a fraction of a moment the target was
+completely veiled from sight in a furious pall of clouds which, to
+Nelson's great astonishment, did not dissipate nor condense with the
+speed of ordinary steam.</p>
+
+<p>"Nava!"</p>
+
+<p>With impressive suddenness the screaming sound faded, leaving a sort
+of stunned silence on the gun platform. The gunners stalked back to
+their original stations.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>lowly, reluctantly, the mist enveloping the pine tree cleared away
+and Nelson felt a chill creeping up his spine. The pine was a good
+three hundred yards away, yet now it sagged limp to earth, stripped of
+bark, twigs and needles, only the bright yellow trunk and major
+branches remaining.</p>
+
+<p>"That tree was a good two feet thick," mused the astounded aviator,
+"yet the steam gun bent it like a sapling. My God! What would it do to
+a man?"</p>
+
+<p>"What thinkest thou of our retortii?" The Atlantean's beard glinted
+like metal as he shook with a grim, silent laughter. "These great
+retortii can shoot half a league and will blast any living thing in
+their path. I tell thee, friend Nelson, the discharge of even a small
+retortii will strip the flesh from a man's bones as a peasant strips
+the husk from an ear of corn!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fearful, terrible!" was Nelson's awed comment. "Is there no defence
+against them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course." The Hero's green feather-crested helmet gleamed with a
+nod. "Was there ever an instrument of war that had not its defence?
+Yea, we have the blue vapor to shatter steam particles&mdash;it is called
+the blue maxima. Thou wilt presently see some of our troops armed with
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"But where does this steam come from? How is it generated?" These two
+were the first of a host of questions which trembled on Nelson's lips.</p>
+
+<p>"The steam," replied the Atlantean, "comes from the earth. We compress
+it many times, then feed it into our retortii. Without the heat of
+Mother Earth and our flame suns we would all perish. Steam is our
+motive power, our defence and our enemy!"</p>
+
+<p>He flung his hand towards the vast valley stretched before them. It
+was hemmed in on either side by colossal breath-taking mountain
+ranges, whose caps shone and glittered with an eternal snow.</p>
+
+<p>"Some foothills! They must rise all of 25,000 feet from the valley
+floor," decided the aviator, "and I should imagine this valley is a
+good mile below sea level. Yes! That must be it: this nightmare
+country lies in a huge geographical fault&mdash;something like the Dead
+Sea."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ile after mile he could see fertile green land stretching away toward
+some low undulating hills on the horizon. Atlans was very thickly
+settled&mdash;that he recognized at once&mdash;for the terrain was divided and
+sub-divided into a vast checker-board, such as he had seen in France
+and Germany, while terraces, green with produce, had been laboriously
+gouged out of the frowning mountain sides.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then his eye encountered the source of that curious amber light which
+pervaded the whole valley. A titanic flaming gas vent spouted like a
+cyclopean torch from the peak of a nearby mountain. Its steady,
+subdued roar struck Nelson's ear as he turned away his eyes, for the
+glare was too intense to be long endured. Further down the valley were
+two more such incandescent vents, shooting their flaming tongues
+boldly into the sky, warming the air and casting that rich, amber
+radiance over all.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Mount Ossa nearest us," the Atlantean's voice came as though
+from a long distance. Victor Nelson was too staggered, too unspeakably
+amazed to register the fact of the Hero's proximity. "Below are Pelion
+and Jilboa, which, with Jabor, the greatest of all the flames,
+illuminate and warm the valley."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson's eye, trained to be all observant, ranged far and wide, noting
+the presence of many lacy, frothing geysers which spouted at varying
+intervals. There were, also, many steaming ponds and waterfalls which
+sprang in smoky confusion from the rock palisades to either side.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>earer at hand he could distinguish a number of huge stone structures,
+evidently forts and public buildings. Strategically placed all about
+were more of those terrible brass retortii, gleaming dully under the
+incandescent glare of the flame sun.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," cried Hero Giles with an impatient gesture of his hand, "we
+must e'en hasten to the tube-road terminal. Word has long since been
+sent to Heliopolis of thy arrival."</p>
+
+<p>Downwards into the valley, which grew ever warmer and more fertile,
+the Atlantean led on, explaining a thousand and one details to the
+astounded aviator. Presently they approached the nearest of the great
+stone structures and Nelson received yet another shock. In a courtyard
+was drilling what would correspond to a troop of cavalry in the outer
+world. In orderly ranks the troopers wheeled, marched and
+counter-marched, their brazen armor twinkling and clashing softly as
+they carried out their evolutions with an amazing precision. But what
+astonished Nelson was the fact that each of these strange troopers
+bestrode a lithe, long-limbed variety of dinosaur, a good half smaller
+than the allosauri he had encountered in the tunnel. These agile
+creatures ran about on their hind legs with astonishing speed, using a
+long reptilian tail as a balance.</p>
+
+<p>On the back of each trooper was fastened a compact circular copper
+tank, from which sprouted a flexible metal hose that ended in what
+looked like a ponderous type of pistol.</p>
+
+<p>In distinction to the red of the artillerymen and the blue of the
+Hoplites, these curious cavalrymen wore brilliant crests of yellow
+feathers, and from their lance tips fluttered tiny pennons of that
+same color.</p>
+
+<p>"They must travel at least as fast as a race horse," decided the
+aviator after studying the swift evolutions of the scaly chargers. To
+his ears came the curious dry scrape and rattle of their horny claws
+on the stone pavement of the drill yard.</p>
+
+<p>He would have lingered to see more, for those grotesque, lizard-like
+chargers interested him immensely, but Hero Giles beckoned
+imperiously. So, dropping the Winchester to the hollow of his arm,
+Nelson followed him into the brilliantly gas-lit depths of the great
+structure.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="44" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>verywhere were red bearded, white skinned soldiers, staring at him
+with the frank curiosity of children. Powerful, magnificently built
+fellows they were, all in uniforms of different designs.</p>
+
+<p>The walls about him, Nelson noticed, were covered with really
+beautiful friezes depicting various warlike scenes in that pure beauty
+of proportion found only in ancient Grecian temples.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On and on through resounding tunnels, past busy markets and barracks,
+hurried the two travelers. Then the Atlantean halted before a
+gracefully arched doorway where stood two hoplites, who immediately
+lowered spears to bar the passage. At a word from Hero Giles, however,
+they saluted and fell back in position&mdash;immovable, grim guardians.</p>
+
+<p>Inside was a short staircase, beautifully wrought of bronze. Up this
+flashed the Atlantean's mail-clad body; then he came to a halt under
+the direct rays of a blinding light.</p>
+
+<p>Nelson, on arriving above, discovered that the chamber was lined with
+jointless brass about ten feet high and circular in shape. "What's
+this?" he demanded curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"The terminal of the tube-road. In a moment thou shalt see the great
+cylinder arrive."</p>
+
+<p>The words were hardly by the Hero's lips when there appeared,
+noiselessly and amid a great rush of air, a huge metal cylinder that
+ran upon a sort of truck. It rumbled up to the edge of the platform
+and from its end a small door was opened.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ero Giles exchanged a few sentences with an elderly man who appeared
+to act as control master, then he indicated the glowing doorway of the
+cylinder.</p>
+
+<p>Firmly clutching his Winchester, Nelson bowed his head and stepped
+inside, there to discover a luxury he had never anticipated. The
+interior of the cylinder was brilliantly lit and on both sides were
+ranged wide divans, strewn with many silken cushions. In a rack nearby
+were several graceful glass amphora, filled with red and tawny wine.</p>
+
+<p>"The cylinder must be about thirty feet long," the marvelling American
+told himself, "and about ten feet in diameter. Guess it works on the
+same principle as the compressed air tubes the department stores use
+to send change with."</p>
+
+<p>Gingerly he tested the nearest divan and marvelled at the curious
+softness of what appeared to be a gigantic tiger skin. Meanwhile Hero
+Giles entered, his stern features even more serious, but with him was
+a younger man who resembled him not a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Fair brother," said the Atlantean to his companion, "this is he of
+whom I spoke. Friend Nelson, this is Hero John, my next youngest
+brother&mdash;he, too, speaks the language of the great Sir Henry Hudson."</p>
+
+<p>The metallic clang of the door being shut brought a sharp qualm to
+Nelson's heart. "What are they doing?" he demanded quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"The menials bolt the door beyond," explained Hero Giles with amused
+gravity. "In a moment our cylinder will be placed in the dispatching
+chamber, where steam pressure will be exerted. We shall then be hurled
+through this vacuum tube-road to Heliopolis, greatest city of Atlans.
+In an hour we will be there."</p>
+
+<p>Outside sounded the sudden insistent clangor of a gong, and
+immediately the hiss of steam grew louder. The car shuddered as the
+hissing rose to an eery scream, then all at once the cylinder leaped
+forward, nearly hurling Nelson from his seat. He struggled as best he
+might to gain his equilibrium, for the eyes of the others were on him.</p>
+
+<p>Then, more smoothly, the great cylinder gathered speed and hurtled on
+through the darkness of the tube-road towards Heliopolis, where Victor
+Nelson would read the book of Fate.</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER IV</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+<p>n the arrival platform at Heliopolis reigned a fierce excitement.
+Nelson noted countless armed and unarmed warriors hurrying to and fro,
+desperately intent on reaching their various posts, and snarling
+ill-temperedly as they elbowed their fellows aside. As soon as they
+appeared, Hero Giles and his brother became the center of an excited
+press of gorgeously armored officers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hum!" murmured the aviator under his breath. "Something's happened.
+Must be a revolution, an earthquake or a Democratic convention in
+town; these boys seem all steamed up."</p>
+
+<p>Intently he studied the ring of fierce, red bearded faces surrounding
+his late hosts and gathered that indeed some event of overwhelming
+importance had taken place. Presently a splendid falcon-eyed old man
+in a yellow cloak strode up, struggling to control himself. His
+resemblance to the two Heroes struck Nelson immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"Harken ye," he cried, in that Elizabethan English which appeared to
+be the hieratic language of the New Atlantis' rulers. "Have ye heard?
+The dog-conceived sons of Semites have broken the truce! But three
+measures gone by, a brigade of their mounted podokesons swooped down
+on this very suburb of Tricca, yea, to the very gates of Heliopolis!
+The foul man-eating dogs slaughtered royal serfs and burnt two
+quarters of the suburb to the ground! Moreover, they seized that
+prisoner"&mdash;Nelson's heart gave a great leap at the word&mdash;"whom thou
+sentest from the mountain passes."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" In two swift strides Nelson was before the gray beard, his
+blood-shot eyes blazing with a strange light. "What did you say about
+that prisoner?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he old man, who had obviously not noticed Nelson's presence, was
+thunderstruck to hear him speak in English until Hero Giles briefly
+explained his presence.</p>
+
+<p>"Yea!" continued the elder, flinging lamentations furiously over his
+shoulder, "these swine of the Lost Tribes captured him and slew his
+escort. They have retreated towards the Apidanus, slaying, burning and
+pillaging as they go."</p>
+
+<p>A sickening, deadly fear gripped the weary aviator. This was too much!
+Bad as it was to have Richard Alden captured by these weird
+descendants of a long vanished race, it was far worse to have him
+fall into the hands of their deadly enemies, the Jarmuthians, decadent
+survivors of Israel's Five Lost Tribes. The possibility of a rescue
+now seemed hopelessly and crushingly vague and distant. What could he
+do now?</p>
+
+<p>In dread despair he glanced about, amazed at the prodigious numbers of
+scowling men who hurried by, obviously intent upon the commencement of
+a campaign for revenge.</p>
+
+<p>Then Hero Giles turned his scarred, warlike face, now set in granite
+lines. "Come, Friend Nelson, my uncle Anthony bids me take thee direct
+to the presence of His Serene Splendor, where he lies encamped at
+Cierum, by the shores of Lake Copias. There he marshals the army of
+Atlans for a march through the hot country on Jezreel. I tell thee,
+thou hast come in stirring times. From Heraclea, Thebes, Ys and Mayda
+will come the Phalanxes. Once and forever we will deal the dogs of
+Jarmuth a final blow."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_v.jpg" alt="V" width="53" height="51" /></div>
+
+<p>ictor Nelson never forgot the hours that followed. Issuing at a fast
+trot from the tube-road terminal, the two Heroes led the way to a vast
+structure, in which were stabled both the terrific allosauri and the
+podokesauri, those swift dinosaurs which seemed to serve the
+Atlanteans as horses. The dreadful hiss and snarl of these monsters
+resounded in his ears long before the stables came in sight, and that
+curious musky odor he had noted in the tunnel was sickeningly strong.</p>
+
+<p>Everywhere he read signs of hurried preparations for war. Savage,
+surly allosauri were led from their stables, one by one, long necks
+writhing snakelike backwards and forwards. Then their keepers would,
+after a moment's tussle, secure huge leather muzzles over their gaping
+jaws, and the huge reptiles would be led waddling along on their hind
+legs out into a vast courtyard, there to hiss and strike at their
+nearest fellows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thinkest thou couldst ride a podoko?" inquired Hero John, an anxious
+look on his handsome, friendly features. "They are difficult to
+manage&mdash;but swift in flight as the birds themselves!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied the aviator, "but I'm damn well going to try.
+If your Emperor can help me rescue Alden, the sooner we get started,
+the better."</p>
+
+<p>For all his brave resolutions, his heart sank, as the green kilted
+keeper led forth three podokesauri. Nelson stared curiously at them
+as, hopping along, they drew near, to bare needle-sharp teeth at him
+while, brazen stirrups on either side jangled softly against their
+rough, scaly hides.</p>
+
+<p>In evident high spirits the beasts snuffed the air and pawed with
+their tiny front legs excitedly, making their sharp talons glisten
+like polished steel. A bridle dangled from the mouth of each and a
+ring set in the thick upper lip served as a further means of control.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t a sharp "<i>Oya</i>!" from an old and toothless keeper, the first podoko
+sank flat to the stone floor like a kneeling camel.</p>
+
+<p>"A sturdy beast," commented Hero Giles, tightening his belt and
+securing the clasps to the emerald-green war cloak. "Here, Friend
+Nelson, thou hadst best don a helmet; the podokos on occasion throw
+back their heads and so might wound thee." So saying, he set foot in
+stirrup and swung up into a saddle which was built up high in the
+cantle to correct the sharp downward slope of the reptile's muscular
+back.</p>
+
+<p>At a signal, Hero Giles' ugly mount rose to its height and shuffled
+awkwardly sidewise, as the old keeper, his eyes very wide and curious,
+led forward Nelson's charger.</p>
+
+<p>"Look," said Hero John with a reassuring smile. "The chin strap
+buckles so&mdash;be sure it fits snug, else it will pound on thy head to
+the podoko's stride. If thou wouldst turn to the left, pull the rein
+so, to the right so, and if thou wouldst stop, pull strongly on the
+nose ring; 'tis not so difficult." He laid a friendly hand on Nelson's
+flannel clad shoulder. "How wilt thou manage thy curious weapon?" he
+inquired doubtfully. "Perhaps thou hadst best leave it behind."</p>
+
+<p>There was a grim smile on Nelson's weary and wind burned features.
+"Not on your life, old son! This Winchester and I stick closer
+together than the Siamese twins."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson thrust his foot into a heavy stirrup, eased his weight into the
+high peaked saddle and gripped the pommel, for though an excellent
+horseman, he had no clue as to what motion would ensue. It was wise he
+did so, for the podoko reared suddenly, almost flinging his rider from
+the saddle.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>mmediately Hero John mounted, raised his right hand and dealt his
+podoko a stinging slap on the fore-shoulder. The great reptile hissed
+in protest, but commenced to walk off with an awkward, hopping step.
+Nelson's mount followed suit.</p>
+
+<p>Faster and faster ran the podokos, their long and scale-covered necks
+stretched far out ahead while their tails lifted correspondingly, much
+like that of an airplane about to take off.</p>
+
+<p>"Whew! He must be doing all of forty-five," gasped Nelson, while the
+wind whistled about his ears and snapped madly at the yellow crest of
+his brazen helmet.</p>
+
+<p>The ride which ensued remained forever fixed in the aviator's memory.
+Like so many shots from a gun the three podokos darted off out of the
+stables, past a gate guarded by a battery of retortii, whose red
+plumed cannoneers sprang to attention as the three strangely assorted
+riders sped out into the amber, perpetual light of Atlans.</p>
+
+<p>Nelson, on finding his balance, looked about him to receive
+impressions of immensely tall structures, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> pyramids which, like the
+ziggurats of Sumaria, and Babylon, were surmounted with beautifully
+proportioned temples.</p>
+
+<p>"Must be at least a million people in this burg of Heliopolis,"
+thought Nelson, easing his Winchester.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour they sped along, frequently overtaking detachments of
+troops. Twice they halted to change mounts, though the podokos seemed
+quite tireless.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of five hours' furious riding, Nelson beheld a dense white
+cloud low on the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" he demanded. "Fog?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Hero John informed him. "Yonder flows the Apidanus, the boiling
+river. Not far away to the left lies the frontier fortress of Cierum,
+where is encamped the Emperor, who will sit in judgment upon thee."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson's heart sank. He had been so occupied with his fears for Alden
+that he had not dwelt upon his own precarious position.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>carcely half an hour elapsed, if Nelson's wrist watch were running
+correctly, before he reached the tremendous, swarming camp of Altorius
+XXII, Emperor of Atlans. Hero Giles proved to be a powerful talisman,
+for everywhere officers and men alike saluted respectfully and sank on
+one knee as he passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait here," he snapped, as the podokos sank obediently to the dust.
+"Brother John, do thou guard Friend Nelson while I seek permission of
+His Serene Splendor to bring the Wanderer into the Presence."</p>
+
+<p>Almost immediately the elder Atlantean returned, a frown on his
+scarred, rather brutal visage. "Come," he muttered, "but I fear for
+thee, Friend Nelson; His Splendor is in a savage mood&mdash;this raid hath
+stirred his ire beyond all bounds."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing like cheering up a patient before he goes into the operating
+room," thought Nelson, and quietly threw off the safety on his
+Winchester. "Six shots," he reflected. "Well, if I go, I reckon I'll
+take some damn good company along."</p>
+
+<p>The aviator was led down a long passage, at every ten feet of which
+was posted an enormous scowling guard, whose spears, retortii and
+armor were painted a brilliant jade-green. Then a musical, deep-toned
+gong boomed twice, and Hero Giles halted before an exquisitely wrought
+door, which, without any apparent propulsion, silently slid back into
+the massive stone walls, revealing a huge, brilliantly lit circular
+chamber that was hung with emerald-green hangings. In the center,
+surrounded by a royal guard of nobles in splendidly jeweled armor, was
+reared a dais, upon which stood a throne that blazed with the most
+varied collection of diamonds that Nelson could ever have imagined.</p>
+
+<p>"Down on your face," rasped Hero Giles as, in common with his brother,
+he knelt and then fell prostrate on the cool black marble floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Damned if I will," murmured Nelson, and remained erect.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="42" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>olt upright, he looked across the interval and found himself staring
+into the furious eyes of one of the handsomest men he had ever beheld.
+Gripping his Winchester in a kind of "port arms" position, he stood to
+attention&mdash;by some curious kink of the brain reverting to his military
+days. And so the two men, different as day and night, faced each
+other. Altorius XXII clad in robes of scarlet, and a glittering
+cuirasse that glowed like the evening sun. His yellow head was truly
+splendid, reminiscent of that of a young Roman Emperor. The hair, like
+that of the Hudsonian Heroes, was blond, curly and close cropped. Yes,
+thought the awed but self-contained American, there was something
+genuinely imperial about the Emperor's aquiline visage, for a high
+intelligent forehead and piercing blue eyes dominated a strong mouth,
+which was marred by a decidedly cruel twist at the cor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>ners. On him,
+also, was set the stamp of Sir Henry Hudson's dauntless race.</p>
+
+<p>"Put him is a business suit and a soft gray hat," mused Nelson, "and
+you would find a dozen like him in any of London's best clubs."</p>
+
+<p>"Down on thy face, sirrah!" Outraged, the Emperor's voice rang like
+the peal of a brazen trumpet through the great pillared audience
+chamber. The nearest guardsmen held themselves ready, hand on sword
+hilt.</p>
+
+<p>"No." Nelson's shaggy black head went back as he found his tongue at
+last. "No, Your Majesty. In America we have our own way of showing
+respect for authority. I'm an American and, with all respect, I'll
+salute you as one."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, his hand flicked up in a sharp military salute to the visor
+of that Atlantean helmet which he still wore.</p>
+
+<p>"All damn foolishness," he silently told himself. "I feel like the
+lead in a ten, twenty, thirty melodrama. But I suppose it's got to be
+done."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he Emperor's teeth gleamed in a half snarl as he sprang with Jovian
+wrath to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Dog! How darest thou bandy words with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have mercy!" hoarsely pleaded Hero John as he lay on the floor. "Have
+mercy, oh Splendor! He is but an ignorant wanderer from the Ice
+World."</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that the young Hero was something of a favorite, for the
+masterful, thunder-browed Emperor checked himself and, still
+glowering, settled back on the diamond throne.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye have my permission to enter and approach."</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon, Hero Giles arose and, with many black looks at his guest,
+strode forward to briefly explain his presence.</p>
+
+<p>Nelson felt Altorius' blazing blue eyes search his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he whom the dog-born Jereboam captured was thy friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Nelson with dignity, "my best friend. Alden and I have
+traveled and wandered all over the world together."</p>
+
+<p>"Over the world? The Ice World?" Altorius seemed interested, for he
+leaned forward, muscle corded arms very brown against the frosty
+brilliance of the stones studding his throne. He flipped back a
+scarlet cloak and bent a searching look on the straight, unafraid
+figure below.</p>
+
+<p>Impatient to reach a decision, Nelson forebore to amplify the
+Emperor's assumption that the outside world was all ice and snow.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "from the land of America. I've spoken with Hero
+Giles, Your Majesty's Captain-General."</p>
+
+<p>"So, then, no doubt, he has told you of the law of our country?"
+Altorius' white teeth shown again in the depths of his short, curling
+beard.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps." Nelson was vague, wishing no further amplification.</p>
+
+<p>"The law of Atlans," pronounced the Emperor with a frown, "states that
+a stranger must prove his worth to the State, else he must be put to
+death. Thank thou thy gods that thou hast not fallen into the hands of
+the Lost Tribes, for assuredly thou would perish miserably, as must
+thy comrade."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_w1.jpg" alt="W" width="78" height="54" /></div>
+
+<p>hat is the law of Jarmuth?" inquired Nelson, his mind furiously at
+work.</p>
+
+<p>"Their law states that the stranger within their gates must perish on
+the altar of Beelzebub, Jarmuth's blood-hungry demon god." A momentary
+expression of sadness crept into the Emperor's blue eyes and he beat a
+square, powerful hand on the arm of his throne. "Aye, blood-hungry!
+Lack-a-day! But yesterday, six of our fairest maidens crossed the
+boiling river, never to return."</p>
+
+<p>Nelson was about to speak when from outside came the blast of a
+trumpet. The assembled Atlanteans started, paused, and remained
+silent, listening intently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hero Giles looked up, a light kindling in his deep-set eyes. "Yon was
+an Israelite trumpet."</p>
+
+<p>As the words left his lips there came a hurried rapping at the portal,
+whereupon the guards sprang forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Bid them enter." Altorius seemed strangely tense and uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>Quietly the door rolled back as before, revealing an Atlantean whose
+eyes rolled with alarm. He hurried forward and flung himself on the
+floor at the Emperor's sandaled feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Harken, oh Serene Splendor! Waiting without is an embassy from his
+Majesty of Jarmuth. They bear words for thine Imperial Highness."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, by Saturn! Here's insolence&mdash;at an hour such as this!" With a
+furious swirl of his scarlet cloak Altorius leaped to his feet, hand
+on the ivory handle of his sword, which, to Nelson's amusement was not
+of bronze, but of good, blue-gray steel.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bet it's old Sir Henry's original pet sticker," he thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring on these dogs of Israel," growled Altorius. "They shall die!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gently, gently, oh Splendor," murmured Hero John. "Our full force is
+not yet camped on the Plains of Poseidon."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay! Have the rogues flayed alive!" was the advice of the hot-headed
+elder brother. He, like the Emperor, was scowling and livid with fury.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_p.jpg" alt="P" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>resently there appeared four men, stalwart warriors as totally
+different in aspect from the Atlanteans as humans might be. The two
+races were alike only in splendid physical proportions and human
+figures. They, the Jarmuthians, were black haired and dark skinned,
+whereas the Atlanteans, with the exception of Sir Henry's progeny,
+were red headed. Truculently the half naked ambassadors strode over
+the polished floor, which reflected their rude images. Their hairy
+chests, arms and legs afforded a sharp contrast to the neat Atlantean
+nobles, who drew back with expressions of disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" gasped Nelson in lively surprise. "A bunch of the boys
+from Seventh Avenue!"</p>
+
+<p>It was true: each Jarmuthian clearly betrayed his Hebraic origin in
+huge, fleshy nose and pendulous lower lip, so characteristic of the
+Semitic race. They were fierce, shaggy fellows, naked from the waist
+up save for a kind of jointed body armor, reminiscent of a Roman
+legionnaire's. Their long abundant blue-black hair was either plaited
+or flowed uncut over splendidly muscled shoulders. Their beards on the
+other hand were short and frizzed into tight curls, in the Assyrian
+manner. On each man's head was set a highly polished, pointed casque
+of copper, surmounted in each instance by the six-pointed star of
+Solomon. Otherwise the brutal looking emissaries wore nothing but
+dirty, food-spotted kilts and rough hide sandals secured by thongs.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ith all the insolence and self assurance of conquerors in the
+presence of slaves the four jet-eyed ambassadors swaggered up to the
+diamond throne. Then the foremost briefly inclined his head towards
+Altorius in a grudging salute and began to speak in deep, resonant
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>From that point Nelson could understand nothing of the conversation as
+it was carried on in the guttural and unintelligible language of that
+lost realm, but, from time to time Hero John found opportunity to
+translate an occasional phrase.</p>
+
+<p>Darker and darker grew the brows of the gorgeously attired Emperor and
+his eagle-visaged Captain-General as they listened to the pompous
+oratory of the foremost Jarmuthian, and in dark fury more than one
+Atlantean noble half drew his sword when the speaker fell silent at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>"He said," the younger Atlantean whispered, "that Jereboam is no
+longer satisfied with six maidens. Beelzebub demands a further
+offering of six more damsels to be delivered before the third division
+of time on the morrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> By Saturn! The insolence of these besotted
+swine passes all tolerance!"</p>
+
+<p>From the Atlantean Emperor's outraged negative gestures, Nelson
+surmised that Altorius was making an emphatic refusal and even adding
+some vicious threat. The foremost Jarmuthian slapped huge dirty hands
+on armored hips and fell to laughing with an insolence that would have
+provoked a rabbit.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>orgetting dignity and self-control, Altorius, in a single tigerish
+leap sprang from his throne and knocked the mocker senseless with a
+powerful blow to the jaw. Then, spurning the fallen Jarmuthian with a
+sandaled foot, the Atlantean fixed blazing eyes upon the three other
+ambassadors who, nothing daunted, closed up, muttering savagely in
+their frizzed black beards, while their hands sought the spot where
+swords would normally have hung.</p>
+
+<p>"Nice right to the jaw," commented Nelson with a grin. "He's still
+English enough to use his fists." He turned to Hero John, who stood
+with an expression of horror on his comely features. "What caused the
+row?"</p>
+
+<p>"Verily, our plight is grave indeed. That braggart dog threatened to
+march on Heliopolis in the first division of morning, and,"&mdash;Hero
+John's lips compressed into a hopeless, taut expression&mdash;"our
+reinforcing phalanxes can never arrive in time to defend Cierum at
+that hour. Should the defense fail, as it must&mdash;since they outnumber
+us three to one for the nonce&mdash;it would cost us many thousands of men
+to stay the blood-hungry hordes of Jereboam once freed on the great
+plain."</p>
+
+<p>Like a star shell bursting on a cloudy night came the inception of an
+idea.</p>
+
+<p>"Here," cried Nelson, "I've an idea! Maybe I can fix a stall until the
+rest of your boys do a General Phil Sheridan and get here."</p>
+
+<p>Hero John's blue eyes widened uncomprehendingly. "What?" he demanded.
+"What dost thou propose?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>elson's hand crept to his head, for the unaccustomed weight and heat
+of the helmet made it itch. "You say these bright boys from over the
+border want to chow six more girls? Am I right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yea, oh Friend Nelson, they demand the victims to-morrow morn, else
+they advance."</p>
+
+<p>"All right." Nelson was thinking fast now, a dreadful vision of
+Richard Alden stretched for sacrifice on the brass altar of Beelzebub
+ever floating before his aching eyes. "Tell those Semites that they
+can have those six girls <i>if</i> they can take them away from me."</p>
+
+<p>A puzzled frown creased the younger Hero's brow and he tugged
+thoughtfully at his scant yellow beard. "Prithee pardon me, but I do
+not comprehend."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, get this now! Tell the Jarmuthians that they can send six
+of their biggest and best scrappers, one for each girl. If they can
+take any one of those girls away from me, they take them all&mdash;taking
+me as well&mdash;and we'll all get the works in Jezreel together. But, on
+the other hand, if I kill their six champions, then Alden is returned
+unharmed, the six girls come home and the six other girls come back
+too&mdash;and there'll be no more hostages. I don't think they'll agree to
+or even consider surrendering Your Princess, Altara. I'm sorry I can't
+accomplish that, too. But if I can stop this annual tribute, it won't
+be so bad, will it?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_r.jpg" alt="R" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ounder and rounder grew the Atlantean's eyes, and he gaped like a
+school boy in a side show.</p>
+
+<p>"What sayest thou? Thou alone to overcome six of their best warriors?
+Nay, but this is folly! Moonshine! What knowest thou of their
+weapons?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," admitted Nelson, "but I do know Brother Winchester here."
+He patted the smooth stock. "He's mighty persuasive, properly
+handled."</p>
+
+<p>"But they are armored! They have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> the fungus bombs, the light retortii
+and the javelin!"</p>
+
+<p>"Righto!" agreed Nelson a trifle carelessly, "but you don't know what
+this old boy can do when he's put to it. Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"By Saturn!" An uncertain ring crept into the Atlantean Prince's
+voice. "A moment, while I address His Splendor."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a fool, a damn fool!" thought Nelson. "Still, it's Alden's only
+chance&mdash;unless the Jarmuthians've got some trick I'm not on to, I
+ought to stand a fighting chance." Meanwhile Emperor and
+Captain-General drew to one side, listening to Hero John's impassioned
+oratory. That the idea met with disapproval, Nelson quietly recognized
+from the incredulous, even contemptuous, glances Altorius shot at him.
+Leaving the four sneering Jarmuthians under guard of the nobles, the
+Emperor came striding impatiently over the inlaid floor.</p>
+
+<p>"What madness is this?" he demanded harshly. "Dost thou realize what
+would hang upon thy skill? If thou shouldst fail, our annual hostage
+for the divine Altara would be twelve instead of six of our maidens.
+Further, the dog-conceived Jereboam would wax unbearably overweening
+and insolent. Nay, there is too much at hazard! Though outnumbered we
+will give battle in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" demanded Nelson, in turn impatient. "A fine chance you'd stand!
+Why, less than half of your army is here at Cerium and Hero John tells
+me that the enemy have massed their entire forces on the salient of
+Poseidon. Isn't that so?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ltorius' handsome brow darkened. "Aye," he admitted, "but our
+reinforcing corps will come up before the third hour of the third
+division."</p>
+
+<p>Here Hero Giles broke in and, speaking with the quick, impassioned
+tones of one whose reactions are violent, pled for confidence in the
+American. "Nay, fair cousin," he replied, casting a sidewise look at
+the Jarmuthians standing in muttered colloquy with their leader, who
+had now gotten to his feet and was angrily dabbing the blood from his
+chin with the hem of his yellow kiltlike garment. "I saw with mine own
+eyes what miracles Friend Nelson doth perform with his curious
+noise-making retortii. If Jereboam falls upon us ere our regiments are
+marshaled, then, verily, are we doomed. We have no choice but to play
+for time. Harken to the counsel of Hero John! Methinks this stranger
+from the Ice World is no braggart. He will fight well. If he loses he
+dies horribly&mdash;that he knows. The thought will strengthen his arms,
+and if he wins&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>Then broke in Nelson firmly. "If I win I must have the word of Your
+Majesty that Alden and I are to be afforded all help and free passage
+to that place where your soldiers captured my friend. It that
+understood?"</p>
+
+<p>Altorius' blue eyes shifted and there was a slight hesitation in his
+manner. Then, coming to a decision, he whirled and extended his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Good, 'tis agreed," he said. "On my head be it. Have patience while
+Hero Giles confers with these outlandish dogs."</p>
+
+<p>It was with intense interest that the anxious aviator watched the
+ensuing conference. He could see the four Jarmuthians listening, dark
+eyes restlessly flitting back and forth, and their mouths twisted into
+contemptuous half snarls. Then, as Nelson's offer was made clear, a
+look of cunning seemed to creep into the eyes of the leader. He asked
+for clarification of several points, then, being informed of the
+details, his thick lips parted in an evil, crafty grin.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>aken aback at the suspiciously ready acquiescence of the enemy, Hero
+Giles turned about. "They agree," he translated, "that, should Friend
+Nelson win, they will return to their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> own land, they will forfeit the
+annual tribute forever and return the other stranger unharmed. They
+speak fair, but I fear&mdash;" He bit his lips in perplexity. "These dogs,
+who talk with the forked tongues of serpents, plan some snare, some
+cunning trickery."</p>
+
+<p>"Repeat the terms." Altorius seemed gripped with apprehension too.
+"Let all be clearly understood: at the third division of morning will
+the wanderer fight six warriors. No more and no less."</p>
+
+<p>This was agreed and reaffirmed. Then, with an insolent, triumphant
+laugh, the Jarmuthian delegation whirled about and stalked from the
+room, their dark greaved legs flashing in military unison over the
+polished floor.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis done," quoth Hero Giles gloomily. "The encounter will take place
+on the plain of Gilboa at the third hour of the third division. And
+may Saturn help us if thy might fails. Friend Nelson! For then surely
+will the hordes of Jarmuth despoil us and there will come a desolation
+and a darkness upon the Empire of Atlans."</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER V</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div>
+<p>t seemed incredibly soon that Victor Nelson found himself striding
+out from the serrated ranks of the Atlantean army which, drawn up in a
+rough diamond formation, looked discouragingly small in comparison to
+that vast sea of helmets twinkling ominously across the plain of
+Poseidon amid a haze of bright yellow dust which climbed lazily into
+the breathless heavens. The Jarmuthian army, numbering perhaps sixty
+or seventy thousand effective troops, lay encamped in a great salient
+formed by a convolution of the Apidanus and formed the only Jarmuthian
+tract of the great valley lying south of the boiling river.</p>
+
+<p>Like low-lying snow drifts, the sheen of the enemy tents struck
+Nelson's eye as he strode over the bright green turf to battle for
+Richard Alden's life.</p>
+
+<p>"There was something back of those nasty grins of the ambassadors," he
+reflected. "I wonder what deviltry they're cooking up?"</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at a stalwart Atlantean herald who, nervous in the extreme,
+clutched his brazen, dolphin-shaped horn and followed in the
+American's wake together with a sad little company. Weeping, moaning
+and dressed in plain black robes marched six really lovely girls&mdash;they
+who would perish on Beelzebub's altar if Nelson failed. Bitter were
+the looks of the guards as they secured the hands of the victims and
+many the hopeful look cast at the impassive American when they turned
+back, leaving the helpless girls to their fate.</p>
+
+<p>The ground where the one-sided duel was to take place was marked off
+by means of little yellow flags on a level plain perhaps a quarter of
+a mile long and wide. Arriving on the nearest border Nelson briefly
+motioned the herald to halt.</p>
+
+<p>"Might as well start shooting at the best range possible, and beat
+their steam throwers," he decided. "Wish to the devil I'd a few more
+cartridges. Only thirteen shots between me and Beelzeebub's altar in
+Jezreel, so I'd better not miss. All right, son, toot your horn."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ith his thumb be gestured the command, whereupon the Atlantean nodded
+eagerly and, filling his chest, set horn to lips to blow a long,
+strident note that rang harshly, boldly out over the great plain.</p>
+
+<p>While the note of the challenge rang out, Nelson's eyes turned back to
+regard the Atlantean array and detected, far in the rear, a huge
+pillar of dust which must mark the progress of the Atlantean
+reinforcements. Would they arrive at Cierum in time? Then his eyes
+sought that spot where Altorius and his staff sat anxiously on their
+podokos, watching intently the impending struggle. Very clearly the
+flash of their armor came to him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I guess, like the girls back there, they're kind of nervous and
+jumpy," thought Nelson. "Well, I don't blame them. I've had quieter
+moments myself."</p>
+
+<p>Having blown three blasts, the Atlantean herald saluted; then, with
+disconcerting haste, made his way back to the ranks of his fellows
+some two hundred yards away.</p>
+
+<p>From the Jarmuthian army came an answering blast. Nelson cast a last
+look on the Atlantean army, breathlessly awaiting the impending duel.
+There was the allosauri corps on the far left; he could see the
+chimeric monsters' long, repulsive necks writhing endlessly back and
+forth through the air as they squealed and tugged strongly at their
+restraining chains. On the right were stationed perhaps ten thousand
+podokesons, their slender, yellow-shafted lances swaying like a
+sapling forest in the distance. In the center were eleven thousand
+protection infantry, green-crested and armed with compact tanks of
+blue-maxima vapor, fungus bombs and swords. Behind them, and
+corresponding to heavy infantry, were ranged some twenty thousand
+blue-plumed hoplites, eagerly fingering the brazen hoses of their
+death dealing portable retortii.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>elson had no time to further study the array, for he whirled about as
+from the Atlantean army arose a deep, horrified shout. He stood
+paralyzed, his jaw slack. For there, waddling slowly forward, came the
+most fantastic huge creature imaginable. Unspeakably repellent and
+horrible, it stood on short legs thick as mature trees, to tower at
+least thirty-five feet above the ground at the fore-shoulders! An
+immense reptilian neck some twenty-five feet long weaved continuously
+back and forth, while a surprisingly small, bullet-shaped head emitted
+rumbling grunts.</p>
+
+<p>"Great God!" gasped the horrified aviator, and felt the ground sway
+under him. "It must be ninety feet long!"</p>
+
+<p>Paralyzed by a dreadful fascination he watched the ungainly, hill-like
+reptile shuffle ponderously forward and realized that, high on its
+back, was fixed a small fort, rather like those howdahs or boxes which
+are fastened to the backs of elephants. Chilled with the nearness of
+death, Nelson counted six mail-clad warriors in the howdah. Then the
+true import of the Jarmuthians evil jest struck him with full force.</p>
+
+<p>"Six men, they said. And six men there are&mdash;but the treacherous devils
+mounted them on that walking hill-side! Guess Altorius can kiss his
+six girls good-by right now. Poor Alden! Well, I did my best&mdash;a rotten
+trick."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t that moment he felt as an ant must feel on beholding the approach
+of a human. It was terrifying, the inexorable advance of that
+colossal, fantastic monster. From behind he could hear the infuriated
+shouts of the Atlantean army. They knew even he could not hope to
+withstand the murderous onslaught of the beast now entering the
+duelling space.</p>
+
+<p>On came the diplodocus, its vast warty tail trailing over the ground
+and raising a heavy column of dust, while its mud smeared sides bore
+out Hero Giles' statement that here was one of those semi-aquatic
+titans from the steaming swamps of Jarmuth.</p>
+
+<p>"Hell! Poor Alden's as good as finished now! What a fool I was to
+think I could save him!"</p>
+
+<p>Obedient to an overwhelming fear, Nelson whirled to flee, then
+stopped, as, from the depths of his being, a stronger power forbade
+him to desert his friend to certain death.</p>
+
+<p>"Range two hundred and fifty yards," he estimated, and, whipping up
+the Winchester, sighted full at the ponderous creature's slimy
+snakelike head. When the recoil jarred his shoulder, Nelson dropped
+the barrel an inch or so to watch. Nothing happened. The great beast
+was advancing as before, its incredibly long neck weaving steadily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
+back and forth as though to sniff the air.</p>
+
+<p>"Hell!"</p>
+
+<p>Struck by a sudden thought, he snatched a cartridge from his pocket
+and, with that strength which comes to men in their hour of mortal
+peril, wrenched out the metal-jacketed bullet, to reinsert it
+backwards into the brass cartridge case.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the vast brute had drawn nearer, crushing flat a young oak
+in its path as easily as though it had been a wheat stalk.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe this dum-dum will do some good," panted Nelson. "If it doesn't,
+nothing will stop it!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>gain he sighted until, finding those small, orange red eyes in line
+with his sight, he fired. This time the gray-brown monster uttered a
+titantic bellow of rage, halted, and began shaking its clumsy blunt
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"Hit it, by God!" exulted Nelson, and seized the momentary respite to
+slip two fresh cartridges into the Winchester's magazine.</p>
+
+<p>But, to his inexpressible dismay, the monster presently resumed its
+ponderous progress while the Jarmuthians in the howdah uttered
+taunting yells that reached him faintly, while the sun flares glinted
+on their brandished swords and lances. One of them plucked a fungus
+grenade from his belt and flung it with all his might in Nelson's
+direction. The missile fell to the earth far short of its destination
+and seemed to break rather than explode, at the same time expelling
+that deadly, greenish-yellow vapor which, blown away by a strong wind,
+fortunately came nowhere near the doomed aviator.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! You will?"</p>
+
+<p>Nelson sighted swiftly at the grenade-thrower and fired, whereupon the
+Jarmuthian, some hundred and fifty yards distant, spun crazily about,
+flung both arms towards the amber-yellow sky and toppled from the
+howdah, for all the world like a diver in quest of pearls.</p>
+
+<p>From both breathless armies rose a terrific shout. Accustomed as they
+were to the visible destruction of the retortii, this noisy yet
+invisible death was appalling.</p>
+
+<p>But Nelson's agonized attention was not on the assembled armies, for
+nearer came the mountainous diplodocus, its lumbering strides making
+the howdah sway like a ship in a gale and preventing use of the
+portable retortii.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>elson planted both feet, took fresh grip on his waning courage and
+shot again, this time aiming at a gigantic, black bearded warrior who
+seemed to be training one of those portable retortii upon him.</p>
+
+<p>Again the Winchester cracked and this time the black bearded man sank
+from sight back into the howdah, while his companions, uttering
+vengeful shouts, tossed more fungus bombs at the lone heroic figure
+barring their progress towards the six bound and shrieking maidens.</p>
+
+<p>Towering thrice as high as the largest African elephant, the
+diplodocus was now but seventy-five yards away. He had hit it, that
+Nelson could tell, for a large shower of blood sprayed from the
+monster's neck. Then, uttering a despairing curse, he sent a shot
+smacking squarely into the left shoulder, at the base of that mastlike
+neck with fervent hope of finding the heart. But the heavy bullet
+bothered the cyclopean reptile no more than a sting of a mosquito.</p>
+
+<p>On, on it came. In another minute it must stamp out Victor Nelson's
+life beneath feet as large as hogsheads.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn!"</p>
+
+<p>Nelson snapped the ejector lever, throwing out the spent cartridge.</p>
+
+<p>"No use," he whispered, "can't faze that hill of meat! But I might as
+well kill all of those bloody cannibals I can."</p>
+
+<p>With amazing speed and accuracy he picked off two of the remaining
+Jarmuthians, whose shining, bronze armor could nowise withstand the
+wicked im<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>pact of modern nickel-jacketed bullets. One of the stricken
+men for a moment dangled with the last of his strength from one of the
+chains securing the howdah to the enormous creature's back, then
+tumbled heavily some forty feet to the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Only two shots more in the magazine&mdash;! Nelson suddenly found himself
+very cool. "Two shots and then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He was conscious of that great, snakelike head darting viciously in
+his direction. A huge, slobbering mouth, studded with teeth a foot
+long, yawned redly before him like a nightmare incarnate, blotting out
+consciousness of all else. Then Victor Nelson, fighting to control his
+strumming nerves, deliberately sighted into a great, orange colored
+eye, saw the narrow black iris over the Winchester's front sight and
+knew the huge warty head was not ten feet away.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e pressed the trigger and never heard the report, but felt the blast
+of a furnace-hot breath in his face&mdash;a breath that stank like the foul
+reek of burning rubber.</p>
+
+<p>With a detached sense of surprise he saw the eye miraculously and
+dreadfully disintegrate; then, as the bitter smell of burned cordite
+stung his nostrils, he sprang violently sidewise to find himself
+staring up at the howdah, now towering at least forty feet above.</p>
+
+<p>The next few moments were indescribable. Horrible roars and bellows,
+loud as those of a thousand angered bulls, shattered the air. The
+diplodocus halted, stunned by pain and the partial loss of eyesight;
+then, its infinitesimal brain becoming gripped with fear, it plunged
+and lumbered sidewise, nearly shaking the warriors from the howdah,
+where they clung for dear life. Nelson was barely able to avoid the
+sweep of the powerful tail as the diplodocus wheeled about on hind
+legs, reeled and started blindly back towards the Jarmuthian ranks.
+Suddenly it stood stock still, shaking with super-elephantine motions.
+Then, for all the world like a balky mule, it sank to the earth and
+cowered there, despite the frantic efforts of the surviving
+Jarmuthians to stir it to obedience.</p>
+
+<p>By the strong amber light of the sun flare Nelson had a vision of the
+last two warriors swinging in apelike agility to the ground. They were
+giants, those two men of Jarmuth, and their conical helmets added
+additional stature. One of them, shouting an unintelligible taunt,
+reached for his belt to snatch out a fungus bomb, but Nelson, dropping
+on one knee, sent a bullet crashing between the Jarmuthian's scowling
+eyes. Even as he fell, the last of the six champions unwisely ignored
+his retortii and frantically sprang forward, razor-edged sword
+upraised.</p>
+
+<p>Nelson frantically worked the ejector lever but only an empty click
+resulted! His heart sank. "Hell! the magazine's empty!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e had just time to swing the Winchester about and grasp its barrel as
+the Jarmuthian, with a loud shout, sprang in, slashing viciously at
+Nelson's unprotected neck. Using the clubbed rifle like a baseball
+bat, the American struck out with the strength of despair. There came
+a resonant clang as blade and barrel encountered each other. Steel is
+ever stronger than bronze, so Nelson had the satisfaction of seeing
+the Jarmuthian's sword blade break squarely in two near the hilt.</p>
+
+<p>Horrified, the black bearded warrior glanced at the empty hilt in his
+hand but, courageous to the end, sprang in like a tiger to grapple
+with that small, agile man in khaki and serge.</p>
+
+<p>"You would&mdash;eh?" gasped Nelson.</p>
+
+<p>Putting all his strength behind a blow he whirled up the heavy
+Winchester, struck out and felt the solid walnut stock smash fair and
+square on the conical helmet. Like an eggshell the bronze helm broke
+and the six-pointed star above went spinning off into the dust. As a
+tree sways before it falls beneath a forester's ax, so the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> dark
+Jarmuthian giant tottered, while the wide dusty plain of Poseidon
+echoed with a rumbling, incredulous shout.</p>
+
+<p>"There," choked Nelson, incredulous to be still alive, "I guess
+that'll be about all for to-day."</p>
+
+<p>But he was wrong. From the ranks of Jarmuth rose a terrible, ominous
+cry and at the same time there broke out the sibilant hiss of a
+thousand retortii. From the Atlantean army came an answering yell and
+Nelson turned to race back to the shelter of Altorius' body-guard,
+pausing but to arouse the terrified hostages. Swiftly he cast loose
+their bonds and pointed to the nearest detachment of Atlanteans.
+Sobbing with joy the six girls fled for dear life just as the first of
+the allosauri went racing over the plains. Screaming, all-powerful and
+uncanny war dogs, they bounded grotesquely high in the air, plunging
+straight towards the Jarmuthian ranks which greeted them with a
+searing, billowing blast of their retortii. Though dozens of the
+terrible creatures fell kicking and writhing beneath the scalding
+discharge of the retortii, the main body, perhaps forty or fifty in
+number, sprang like rending fiends into the dense packed masses of
+Jarmuthian infantry.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>f the ensuing battle, Nelson had but the most confused recollections.
+The dominating impression was that the fray was awesome, horrible
+beyond power of description. He recalled feeding the five remaining
+cartridges into the magazine, then clapping on an Atlantean noble's
+helmet. With Hero John at his side he joined in an furious headlong
+charge of the podoko corps.</p>
+
+<p>Like a vast glittering wedge the gallant Atlantean lancers advanced
+under shelter of the blue maxima vapor which, discharged by the
+protectons or light infantry, dispelled the scalding steam clouds
+launched from the Jarmuthian portable retortii.</p>
+
+<p>"Halor v&agrave;n!" Hero John shouted the Atlantean war cry. "Halor v&agrave;n!
+Come Friend Nelson, this day shall the treacherous swine of Jarmuth
+drown in their own blood! Halor v&agrave;n!"</p>
+
+<p>Nelson replied nothing. He was too busy drawing a bead on a gorgeously
+arrayed enemy officer who appeared to be directing the defence.</p>
+
+<p>Faster and faster rushed the podokos, forty, fifty miles an hour, a
+carnate thunderbolt hurled straight at the enemy center. Under a hot
+fire of grenades dozens of the lancers fell and once, when a fungus
+bomb broke near by, Nelson saw half a dozen Atlanteans tumble from
+their saddles, the hideous yellow growths already sprouting from
+nostrils, mouth and ears. The turmoil became deafening,
+indescribable&mdash;like the roar of a crowded subway.</p>
+
+<p>The American had a brief glimpse of a mountainous diplodocus assailed
+by half a dozen hissing, shrieking allosauri who, employing jaws and
+claws, ripped great, shuddering chucks of flesh from the agonized and
+unwieldy monster on whose back the frantic Jarmuthians fought with
+terrible ferocity.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>s agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped and worried
+their prey. One of them clung like a bulldog to the doomed diplodocus'
+head, though the twenty-foot neck writhed and whirled frantically in
+effort to shake it loose. Another allosaurus, whining with eagerness,
+actually clambered up the back of an assailed giant only to fall back
+under the blast of a retortii mounted in the howdah. Bathed in live
+steam, with bones showing through its melting, quivering flesh, the
+allosaurus collapsed backwards, but another instantly took its place
+and, gaining its goal with a terrific leap, made a shambles of the
+howdah, tearing the men in it apart as a lion does an antelope.</p>
+
+<p>Nelson found himself very busy. The charging podokesos were now in the
+midst of the Jarmuthian heavy infantry, slashing down at a maze of
+yelling, black-bearded, Semitic faces.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> Once Nelson was nearly
+speared, shooting his assailant just as the lance glimmered over his
+heart. Again he saw the Atlantean hoplites beaten back amid a
+pestilential fog of fungus gas which stretched them in kicking,
+loathsome heaps on the dusty plain. The uproar became terrific,
+indescribable, as the whistling screams of the allosauri and the
+saurean bellows of the diplodoci rose above the shouts of the soldiery
+to fill the dust-laden air with a dreadful clamor. The battle now
+swayed critically; a feather's weight on either side and one army
+would roll back in red, irretrievable ruin. It was the psychological
+instant. Nelson sensed it unerringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" shouted Hero John, dashing a rivulet of blood from his eyes,
+"there fights the dog-begotten Jereboam himself! Halor v&agrave;n! Smite, ye
+soldiers of Atlans! Smite!"</p>
+
+<p>Following the line of the outstretched hand. Nelson caught a glimpse
+of an enormous, eagle nosed warrior who, clad in gleaming, diamond
+studded harness, fought like a paladin of old. Powerful as a dark Ares
+the sable browed Jereboam raged among the dismayed Atlantean hoplites,
+beating them to earth with terrible ferocity.</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 long shot, one he might readily have been forgiven in missing
+but with the speed of thought Victor Nelson sprang from his podoko,
+dropped on one knee behind a pile of corpses and, uttering a fervent
+prayer, fired full at Jereboam's black head.</p>
+
+<p>The nearest combatants drew back momentarily at the unfamiliar thunder
+of the report and fell silent while the groans and shrieks of the
+wounded rose loud. As a man looking through many thickness of glass,
+so Nelson saw Jereboam reel on his splendidly caparisoned podoko,
+clasp both hands to his forehead and sink to earth.</p>
+
+<p>Hero Giles, somewhere far in the Atlantean van, saw what transpired
+and capitalized it with the inspiration of a genius.</p>
+
+<p>"Jereboam is dead!" he shouted in ringing tones, and flashed his red
+stained sword. "Woe to Jarmuth this day! Smite, ye sons of Atlans. Woe
+to Jarmuth&mdash;Jereboam is fallen!"</p>
+
+<p>And smite hard the reinforced Atlanteans did. Filled with a new
+courage they advanced so determinedly that the disconcerted and
+dismayed Jarmuthians broke and fled in a disastrous, panic-stricken
+rout back over the plain of Poseidon towards the boiling river.</p>
+
+<p>The ground was already carpeted with dead and with abandoned
+equipment, when fresh packs of allosauri were loosed on the fleeing
+Jarmuthians to wreak havoc indescribable and, ere long, only the
+triumphant, panting Atlanteans remained on the field.</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VI</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>here was music and high revelry in the fortress of Cierum that night,
+and Victor Nelson, embarrassed and flushed with the extravagant
+adoration of all Atlans, sat by the Emperor Altorius' side waiting,
+watching for the appearance of a humbled Jarmuthian delegation.</p>
+
+<p>"Never since the world began has there been such a hero in Atlans!"
+cried Altorius, his face more Roman than ever. "Prithee tarry amongst
+us, Hero Nelson. Thou shalt be as my brother. A marble palace shalt
+thou have and twenty wives, each fair as those damsels which thou
+hast, by thy might, rescued from the profane altar of the fiend,
+Beelzebub!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," laughed Nelson, and drained a goblet of tawny wine. "I'd be
+delighted to stay, but the point is&mdash;He broke off short, for there
+came a sudden tramp of feet at the door of the great hall and there,
+just visible above the green crests of the royal guards, he recognized
+that pale, drawn face which had haunted him ever since he had returned
+to find the abandoned aeroplane.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick!" he shouted. "Dick Alden!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nelson!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>With that same irresistible form which had won a certain November
+classic for Harvard, Richard Alden bucked and plunged through a double
+rank of startled guards and came running across the marble floor, his
+eyes lit with an unspeakable gladness.</p>
+
+<p>"Nelson! Nelson!" he panted. "What in hell are you doing up there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" replied the aviator with a joyous grin, "just visiting with my
+friend, the Emperor."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>lden halted, on his handsome features a curious mixture of surprise
+and delight. "The Emperor?" he stammered. "You sitting beside an
+Emperor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would it not seem so?" inquired Altorius with a low laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"It would," chuckled Alden. "Victor Nelson, as I remember, always was
+a good politician."</p>
+
+<p>"And," thought Nelson, "I'll have to be a damn sight better one to get
+us out of Atlans without injuring Altorius' feelings. I don't suppose
+he'll ever be able to realize that all the desirable things in the
+world don't lie in this valley."</p>
+
+<p>Throngs of brilliantly armored and plumed officers and courtiers, some
+of them nursing wounds and bandaged heads, came up to hail the mighty
+wanderer who had subdued the might of Jarmuth.</p>
+
+<p>Flushed and pleased, as is any normal man under well-earned praise,
+Nelson shook one wiry fist after another, while Alden chatted with the
+Emperor. Nobles, officers and courtiers all pressed close to fawn upon
+the new hero&mdash;but, far back in the council chamber, a group of dark
+robed priests were crowded together. Haranguing the priests was a
+fierce, white bearded old man who seemed to be arguing violently.</p>
+
+<p>"Hum!" thought the American. "That's at least one outfit that doesn't
+like the way I part my hair. Wonder what devilment the priests are
+cooking up?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e was not long in finding out, for the black robed arch-priest
+suddenly left his group of underlings to boldly make his way forward,
+while princes, courtiers and warriors drew respectfully aside and bent
+their heads.</p>
+
+<p>"Hail! All conquering Emperor!" The stern old man halted squarely
+before Altorius' gem encrusted throne, while Alden checked some remark
+to look curiously down upon the hawk-featured arch-priest.</p>
+
+<p>Altorius flushed and the lines about his mouth tightened, from which
+Nelson guessed that there was more than a little bad blood between the
+spiritual and temporal heads of the empire.</p>
+
+<p>"What wouldst thou, oh Heracles?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would know why the all powerful Wanderer, of whom thou makest so
+much, did not rescue Princess Altara?"</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor stiffened. "Her rescue, being impossible of
+accomplishment, was not nominated in the agreement," he said coldly.
+"The Wanderer has in full carried out his share&mdash;and so shall we.
+Honored and beloved of Atlans, these great warriors shall abide among
+us in peace."</p>
+
+<p>Here Nelson thought it wise to dispel any illusions Altorius might
+entertain about their staying in Atlans. "No, oh Splendor: remember,
+our agreement was that, should I conquer the Jarmuthian champions,
+Alden and I were to be allowed to go free."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, oh Splendor," fiercely broke in the arch-priest, "permit them
+not to go. I tell thee the Princess Altara <i>must</i> be restored to
+Atlans! Else,"&mdash;a distinct note of threat crept into the old man's
+voice&mdash;"&mdash;else evil days shall fall upon this empire, and the line of
+Hudson will wither and fade."</p>
+
+<p>Up sprang Altorius in a towering rage. "Sirrah! Dost dare make threats
+to thy liege lord?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="43" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ire flashed from the young Emperor's bright blue eyes, and under
+their fierce glare the old man quailed and stepped back with eyes
+lowered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Altorius keeps his word," the Emperor thundered. "The strangers shall
+go, though all the black-robed kites in the realm say me nay. The word
+of a Hudsonian prince is as sure as the fire of Pelion. Get thee gone,
+rash priest!"</p>
+
+<p>A long moment, the two strangely contrasting figures glared at each
+other, the young, splendid Emperor and the malevolent, withered old
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"The Gods demand their daughter," cried Heracles in parting, "and woe
+to him who says them nay!"</p>
+
+<p>With this parting shot, the arch-priest turned and, scarlet faced,
+stalked from the council room, while Altorius threw back his head and
+roared with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, oh ye Heroes, ye princes and captains! Come, let us make
+festival before these mighty wanderers go their way!"</p>
+
+<p>Roar upon roar of enthusiasm echoed through the marble throne room,
+and Nelson would have felt wholly at ease had not that little knot of
+priests remained gathered like ill-omened carrion crows about the
+door. Muttering among themselves, they were watching him with a
+curious intentness that aroused deep misgivings in the American's
+mind, and it was with something like a sigh that he joined the
+procession forming to proceed to the triumphal feast on which the
+wealth and luxury of the whole empire of Atlans had been lavished.</p>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>To be continued.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image_009.jpg" width="500" height="470" alt="Advertisement."  />
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image_010.jpg" width="500" height="569" alt="He shot feet first into the waiting heads."  />
+<span class="caption">He shot feet first into the waiting heads.</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="The_Pirate_Planet" id="The_Pirate_Planet"></a>The Pirate Planet</h2>
+
+<h3><i>By Charles W. Diffin</i></h3>
+<h4>CONCLUSION</h4>
+<h4>CHAPTER XVII</h4>
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>he little ship that Captain Blake had thrown with reckless speed
+through the skies over Washington, D. C., made history that day in the
+records of the earth. None, now, could doubt that here, at last, was
+the answer that the world had hoped for until hope had died.
+Unbelievable in its field of action, incredible in its wild speed, but
+real, nevertheless!&mdash;the countries of the earth were frantic in their
+acclaim. Only the men who formed the International Board of Defense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
+failed to join in the enthusiasm. They sat by day and night in earnest
+conference on ways and means.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">From Earth and sub-Venus converge a titanic offensive of
+justice on the unspeakable man-things of Torg.</div>
+
+<p>This little ship&mdash;so wonderful, and so inadequate! It was only a
+promise of what might come. There must be new designs made; men must
+learn to dream in new terms and set down their dreams in cold lines
+and figures on drafting boards. A cruiser of space must be designed,
+to mount heavy guns, carry great loads, absorb the stresses that must
+come to such a structure in flight and in battle. And above all, it
+must take the thrust of this driving force&mdash;new and tremendous&mdash;of
+which men knew so little as yet. And then many like it must be built.</p>
+
+<p>The fuel must be prepared, and this, alone, meant new and different
+machinery, which itself must be designed before the manufacturing
+process could begin.</p>
+
+<p>There was work to be done&mdash;a world of work!&mdash;and so few months in
+which to do it. The attack from the distant gun had long since ceased
+and the instruments of the astronomers showed the enemy planet
+shrinking far off in space. But it would return; there was only a year
+for preparation.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>aptain Blake was assigned to the direction of design. An entire
+office building in Washington was vacated for his use, and in a few
+hours he rallied a staff of assistants who demanded the entire use of
+a telephone system that spread countrywide. And the call went out that
+would bring the best brains of the land to the task before them.</p>
+
+<p>The windows of the building shone brightly throughout the nights when
+the call was answered, and engineers and draftsmen worked at fever
+heat on thrusts and stresses and involved mathematical calculations.
+And, while owners of great manufacturing plants waited with
+unaccustomed patience for a moment's talk with Blake, the white sheets
+on the drafting boards showed growing pictures of braces and struts
+and curved plates, of castings for gun mounts, and ammunition hoists.
+And the manufacturers were told in no uncertain terms exactly what
+part of this experimental ship they would produce, and when it must be
+delivered.</p>
+
+<p>"If only we dared go into production," said Blake; "but it is out of
+the question. This first ship must demonstrate its efficiency; we must
+get the 'bugs' out of our design; correct our errors and be ready with
+a production schedule that will work with precision."</p>
+
+<p>Only one phase of this proposed production troubled him; the
+manufacture must be handled all over the world. He talked with men
+from England and France, from Germany and Italy and a host of other
+lands, and he raged inwardly while he tried to drive home to them the
+necessity for handling the work in just one way&mdash;his way&mdash;if results
+were to be achieved.</p>
+
+<p>The men of business he could convince, but his chief disquiet came
+from those whose thoughts were of what they termed "statesmanship,"
+and who seemed more apprehensive of the power that this new weapon
+would give the United States of America than they were of the threat
+from distant worlds.</p>
+
+<p>From his friends in high quarters came hints of the same friction, but
+he knew that the one demand Winslow had laid down was being observed:
+the secret of the mysterious fuel would remain with us. Winslow had
+shown little confidence in the countries of the old world, and he had
+sworn Blake to an agreement that his strange liquids&mdash;that new form of
+matter and substance&mdash;should remain with this country.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>nd swiftly the paper ship grew. The parts were in manufacture, and
+arriving at the assembly plant in Ohio. Blake's time was spent there
+now, and he caught only snatches of sleep on a cot in his office,
+while he worked with the forces of men who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> succeeded each other to
+keep the assembly room going night and day.</p>
+
+<p>There was an enormous hangar that was designed for the assembling of a
+giant dirigible; it housed another ship now. Hardly a ship, yet it
+began to take form where great girders held the keel that was laid,
+and duralumin plates and strong castings were bolted home.</p>
+
+<p>A thousand new problems, and innumerable vexing errors&mdash;the "bugs"
+that inhere with a new, mechanical job&mdash;yet the day came when the ship
+was a thing of sleek beauty, and her thousand feet of length enclosed
+a maze of latticed struts where ammunition rooms and sleeping
+quarters, a chart room and control stations were cleverly interspaced.
+And above, where the great shape towered high in the big hangar, were
+the lean snouts of cannon, and recesses that held rapid-fire guns and
+whole batteries of machine guns for close range.</p>
+
+<p>Rows of great storage batteries were installed, to furnish the first
+current for the starting of the ship, till her dynamos that were
+driven by the exhaust blast itself could go into action and carry on.
+And then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>An armored truck that ground slowly up under heavy guard to deliver
+two small flasks of liquid whose tremendous weight must be held in
+containers of thick steel, and be hoisted with cranes to their resting
+place within the ship. And Captain Blake, with his heart in his throat
+through fear of some failure, some slip in their plans&mdash;Captain Blake,
+of the gaunt, worn frame, and face haggard from sleepless
+nights&mdash;stood quietly at a control board while the great doors of the
+hangar swung open.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t the closing of a switch the current from the batteries flowed
+through the two liquids, to go on in conductors of heavy copper to a
+generator that was heavy and squat and devoid of moving parts. Within
+it were electrodes that were castings of copper, and between them the
+miracle of regenerated matter was taking place.</p>
+
+<p>What came to them as energy from the cables was transformed to a
+tangible thing&mdash;a vast bulk of gas, of hydrogen and oxygen that had
+once been water, and the pressure of the gas made a roaring inferno of
+the exhausts. A spark plug ignited it, and the heat of combustion
+added pressure to pressure, while the quivering, invisible live steam
+poured forth to change to vaporous clouds that filled the hangar.</p>
+
+<p>The man at the control board stood trembling with knowledge of the
+power he had unleashed. He moved a lever to crack open a valve, and
+the clouds poured now from beneath the ship, that raised slowly and
+smoothly in the air. It hung quietly poised, while the hands that
+directed it sent a roaring blast from the great stern exhaust, and the
+creation of many minds became a thing of life that moved slowly,
+gliding out into the sunlight of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The cheers of crowding men, insane with hysterical emotion at sight of
+their work's fulfillment, were lost in the thunder of the ship. The
+blunt bow lifted where the sun made dazzling brilliance of her
+sweeping curves, and with a blast that thundered from her stern the
+first unit of the space forces of the Earth swept upward in an arc of
+speed that ended in invisibility. No enveloping air could hold her
+now; she was launched in the ocean of space that would be her home.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>aptain Blake, the following day, sat in Washington before a desk
+piled high with telegrams of congratulation. His tired face was
+smiling as he replaced a telephone receiver that had spoken words of
+confidence and commendation from the President of the United States.
+But he pushed the mass of yellow papers aside to resume his
+examination of a well-thumbed folder marked: "Production Schedule."
+The real work was yet to be done.</p>
+
+<p>It was only two short months later<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> that he sat before the same desk,
+with a face that showed no mark of smiles in its haggard lines.</p>
+
+<p>His ship was a success, and was flying continuously, while men of the
+air service were trained in its manipulation and gunners received
+practice in three-dimensioned range finding and cruiser practice in
+the air. Above, in the airless space, they learned to operate the guns
+that were controlled from within the air-tight rooms. They were
+learning, and the ship performed the miracles that were now taken as
+matters of fact.</p>
+
+<p>But production!</p>
+
+<p>Captain Blake rose wearily to attend a conference at the War
+Department. He had asked that it be called, and the entire service was
+represented when he reached there. He went without preamble or
+explanation to the point.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Secretary," he said, and faced the Secretary of War, "I have to
+report, sir, that we have failed. It is utterly impossible, under
+present conditions, to produce a fleet of completed ships.</p>
+
+<p>"You know the reason; I have conferred with you often. It was a
+mistake to depend on foreign aid; they have failed us. I do not
+criticize them: their ways are their own, and their own problems loom
+large to them. The English production of parts has come through, or is
+proceeding satisfactorily, but the rest is in hopeless confusion. The
+Red menace from Russia is the prime reason, of course. With the Reds
+mobilizing their forces, we cannot blame her neighbors for preparing
+to defend themselves. But our program!&mdash;and the sure invasion that
+will come in six short months!&mdash;to be fighting among ourselves&mdash;it is
+damnable!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e paused to stare in wordless misery at the silent gathering before
+him. Then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have failed," he blurted out. "I have fallen down on the job. It
+was my responsibility to get the cooperation that insured success.
+Let me step aside. Is there anyone now who can take up the work and
+bring order and results from this chaos of futility?"</p>
+
+<p>He waited long for a reply. It was the Secretary of War who answered
+in a quiet voice.</p>
+
+<p>"We must not be too harsh," he said, "in our criticism of our foreign
+friends, but neither should we be unfair to Captain Blake. You do
+yourself an injustice; there is no one who could have done more than
+you. The reason is here." He struck at a paper that he held in his
+hand. "Europe is at war. Russia has struck without warning; her troops
+are moving and her air force is engaged this minute in an attack upon
+Paris. It is a traitor country at home that has defeated us in our war
+with another world."</p>
+
+<p>"I think," he added slowly, "there is nothing more that could have
+been done: you have made a brave effort. Let us thank you, Captain
+Blake, while we can. We will fight, when the time comes, as best we
+can; that goes without saying."</p>
+
+<p>A blue and gold figure arose slowly to speak a word for the navy. "It
+is evident by Captain Blake's own admission, that the proposed venture
+must fail. It has been evident to some of us from the start." It was a
+fighter of the old school who was speaking; his voice was that of one
+whose vision has dimmed, who sees but the dreams of impractical
+visionaries in the newer inventions, and whose reliance for safety is
+placed only in the weapons he knows.</p>
+
+<p>"The naval forces of the United States will be ready," he told them,
+"and I would ask you to remember that we can still place dependence
+upon the ships that float in the water, and the forces who have manned
+them since the history of this country began."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_c.jpg" alt="C" width="46" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>aptain Blake had sprung to his feet. Again he addressed the Secretary
+for War.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Secretary," he said, and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> was a fighting glint in his eyes,
+"I make no reply to this gentleman. His arm of the service will speak
+for itself as it has always done. But your own words have given me new
+hope and new energy. I ask you, Mr. Secretary, for another chance. The
+industrial forces of the United States are behind us to the last man
+and the last machine. I have talked with them. I know!</p>
+
+<p>"We have only six months left for a prodigious effort. Shall we make
+it? For the safety of our country and the whole world let us attempt
+the impossible: go ahead on our own; turn the energy and the mind of
+this whole country to the problem.</p>
+
+<p>"The great fleet of the world can never be. Shall we build and launch
+the Great Fleet of the United States, and take upon our own shoulders
+the burden and responsibility of defense?</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot be done by reasonable standards, but the time is past for
+reason. Possible or otherwise, we must do it. We will&mdash;if you will
+back me in the effort!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a rising discord of excited voices in the room. Men were
+leaping to their feet to shake vehement fists in the faces of those
+who wagged their heads in protest. The Secretary of War arose to still
+the storm. He turned to walk toward the waiting figure of Captain
+Blake.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't do it," he said, and gripped the Captain by the hand; "you
+can't do it&mdash;but you may. This country has seen others who have done
+the impossible when the impossible had to be done. It's your job; the
+President will confirm my orders. Go to it, Blake!"</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER XVIII</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>he wires that bound the two men were removed, and McGuire and Sykes
+worked in agony to bring life back to the hands and feet that were
+swollen and blue. Then&mdash;red guards who forced them to stumble on their
+numbed legs, where darting pains made them set their lips tight&mdash;a
+car that went swiftly through the darkness of a tube to stop finally
+in another building&mdash;a room with metal walls, one window with a
+balcony beyond, high above the ground&mdash;a door that clanged behind
+them; and the two men, looking one at the other with dismayed and
+swollen eyes, knew in their hearts that here, beyond a doubt, was
+their last earthly habitation.</p>
+
+<p>They said nothing&mdash;there was nothing of hope or comfort to be
+said&mdash;and they dropped soddenly upon the hard floor, where finally the
+heavy breathing and nervous starts of Professor Sykes showed that to
+him at least had come the blessed oblivion of exhausted sleep. But
+there was no sleep for Lieutenant McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>There was a face that shone too clearly in the dark, and his thoughts
+revolved endlessly in words of reproach for his folly in allowing
+Althora's love to lead her to share his risk. From the night outside
+their window came a ceaseless clatter and hubbub, but to this he was
+oblivious.</p>
+
+<p>Only with the coming of morning's soft golden light did McGuire know
+the reason for the din and activity that echoed from outside&mdash;and the
+reason, too, for their being placed in this room.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>heir lives should end with the sailing of the fleet, and there,
+outside their window, were the ships themselves. Ships everywhere, as
+far as he could see across the broad level expanse, and an army of men
+who scurried like ants&mdash;red ones, who worked or directed the others,
+and countless blues and yellows who were loading the craft with
+enormous cargoes.</p>
+
+<p>"Squawk, damn you!" said Lieutenant McGuire to the distant shrieking
+throng; "and I hope they're ready for you when you reach the earth."
+But his savage voice carried no conviction. What was there that Earth
+could do to meet this overwhelming assault?</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked Sykes. He roused from his sleep to work ginger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>ly
+at his aching muscles, then came and stood beside McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"They have put us here as a final taunt," McGuire told him. "There is
+the fleet that is going to make our world into a nice little hell, and
+Torg, the beast! has put us here to see it leave. Then we get ours,
+and they don't know that we know that."</p>
+
+<p>"Your first way was the best," the scientist observed; "we should have
+done it then. We still can."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" The flyer's voice was dull and lifeless.</p>
+
+<p>Sykes pointed to the little balcony and the hard pavement below.</p>
+
+<p>"Althora," he said, and McGuire winced at the name, "seemed to think
+that we were in for some exquisite torture. Here is the way out. It is
+a hundred-foot drop; they think we are safe; but they have been
+unintentionally kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," his companion agreed, "they don't know that we know of the torture.
+We will wait ... and when I am sure that&mdash;Althora&mdash;is&mdash;gone ... when there
+is nothing I can do to help&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Help?" queried the professor gently. "There is nothing now of help,
+nor anyone who can help us. We must face it, my boy; <i>c'est fini</i>. Our
+little journey is approaching its end."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>here was no reply, and McGuire stood throughout the day to stare with
+eyes of smouldering hatred where the scurrying swarms of living things
+made ready to invade and infest the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Food and water was pushed through the doorway, but he ate sparingly of
+the odd-colored fruits; the only thing that could hold his thoughts
+from the hopeless repetition of unanswerable "whys" was the sight of
+the fleet. And every bale and huge drum was tallied mentally as it
+passed before his eyes. The ships were being loaded, and with their
+sailing&mdash;But, no! He must not let himself think of that!</p>
+
+<p>Throughout the day ships came and departed, and one leviathan, ablaze
+in scarlet color; sailed in to settle down where great steel arms
+enfolded it, not far from the watching men. Scarlet creatures in
+authority directed operations, and workmen swarmed about the great
+ship. Once McGuire swore softly and viciously under his breath, for he
+had seen a figure that could be only that of Torg, and the crowd
+saluted with upraised arms as the scarlet figure passed into the
+scarlet ship. This, McGuire knew, was the flagship that should carry
+Torg himself. Torg and &mdash;&mdash;. He paled at the thought of the other
+name.</p>
+
+<p>The only break in the long day came with the arrival of a squad of
+guards, who hustled the two men out into a passageway and drove them
+to another room, where certain measurements were taken. The muscular
+figures of the two were different from these red ones, but it was a
+moment before McGuire realized the sinister significance of the
+proceedings. Their breadth of shoulders, the thickness of their
+chests&mdash;what had these figures to do with their captivity? And then
+the flyer saw the measures compared with the dimensions of a steel
+cage. Its latticed shape could be endlessly compressed, and within, he
+saw, were lancet points that lined the ghastly thing throughout. Long
+enough to torture, but not to kill; a thousand delicate blades to
+pierce the flesh; and the instrument, it seemed, was of a size that
+could enclose the writhing, helpless body of a man.</p>
+
+<p>Other unnameable contrivances about the room took on new significance
+with the knowledge that here was the chamber of horrors whose workings
+had been seen by Althora in the mind of their captor&mdash;horrors of which
+she could not speak.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>cGuire was sick and giddy as the guards led him roughly back to their
+prison room. And Professor Sykes, too, required no explanation of what
+they had seen.</p>
+
+<p>The guards were many, and resistance was useless, but each man looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
+silently at the other's desperate eyes when the metal cords were
+twisted again about their wrists, and their hands were tied securely
+to metal rings anchored in the wall beside the window.</p>
+
+<p>"And there," said the flyer, "goes our last chance of escape. They
+were not as dumb as we thought: they knew how good a leap to the
+pavement would look after we had been in there."</p>
+
+<p>"Less than human!" Sykes was quoting the comment of Althora's brother.
+"I think Djorn was quite conservative in his statement."</p>
+
+<p>McGuire examined carefully the cords that tied his hands to the wall
+beside him. The knots were secure, and the metal ring was smooth and
+round. "I didn't know," he said, as he worked and twisted, "but there
+might be a cutting edge, but we haven't a chance. No getting rid of
+these without a wire cutter or an acetylene torch&mdash;and we seem to be
+just out of both."</p>
+
+<p>Professor Sykes tried to adopt the other's nonchalant tone. "Careless
+of us," he began&mdash;then stopped breathless to press his body against
+the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"It's there!" he said. "Oh, my God, if I could only get it, it might
+work&mdash;it might!"</p>
+
+<p>"The battery," he explained to the man beside him, whose assumed
+indifference vanished at this suggestion of hope; "&mdash;the little
+battery that I used on the gun, to fire the explosive. It has an
+astounding amperage, and a voltage around three hundred. It's in my
+pocket&mdash;and I can't reach it!"</p>
+
+<p>"You can't keep a good man licked!" McGuire exulted. "You mean that
+the current might melt the wire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Soften it, perhaps, depending upon the resistance." Sykes refused to
+share the other's excitement. "But we can't get at it."</p>
+
+<p>"We've got to," was the answer. "Move over this way." The man in khaki
+twisted his arms awkwardly to permit him to bend his body to one side,
+and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as the strain forced the
+thin bonds into his wrists. But he brought his agonized face against
+the other's body, and gripped the fabric of Sykes' coat between his
+teeth.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he twisting of his head raised the cloth an inch at a time, and
+despite Sykes' efforts to hold the garment with his elbow, it slipped
+back time and again. McGuire straightened at intervals to draw a
+choking breath and ease the strain upon his tortured wrists; then back
+again in his desperate contortions to worry at the cloth and pull and
+hold&mdash;and try again to raise the heavy pocket where a battery made
+sagging folds.</p>
+
+<p>He was faint and gasping when finally the cloth was brought where the
+scientist's straining fingers could grasp it to writhe and twist in
+clumsy efforts that would force the battery's terminals within reach.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try it on mine," said Sykes. "It may be hot&mdash;and you've had your
+share." He was holding the flat black thing to bring the copper tips
+against the metal about his wrists. McGuire saw the man's lips go
+white as a wisp of smoke brought to his nostrils the sickening odor of
+burned flesh.</p>
+
+<p>The metal glowed, and the man was writhing in silent self-torture when
+at last he threw his weight upon the strands and fell backward to the
+floor. He lay for a moment, trembling and quivering&mdash;but free. And the
+knowledge of that freedom and of the greater torture they would both
+escape, gave him strength to rise and work with crippled hands at his
+companion's bonds, till McGuire, too, was free&mdash;free to forget his own
+swollen, bleeding wrists in compassionate regard for the other.</p>
+
+<p>Like an injured animal, Professor Sykes had licked with his tongue at
+his wrists, where hot wire had burned deep and white, and he was
+trying for forgetfulness an hour later, in examination of the door to
+their room.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the idea?" McGuire inquired, when he turned from his
+cease<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>less contemplation of the fleet. "Not trying to get out, are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am trying to stay in," said Sykes, and looked again at the object
+that interested him. "These long bolts," he explained: "top and
+bottom; operated from outside, but exposed in here. They come together
+when unlocked; five inches apart now. If I had something to hold them
+apart&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't a piece of steel about five inches long, have you?&mdash;or
+anything to substitute for it? If you have, I can lock this door so
+the devils won't come in and surprise us before we can make the jump."</p>
+
+<p>"The battery?" suggested McGuire.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>ykes shook his head. "I tried it. Too long, and besides it would
+crumble. They operate these with a lever; I saw it outside." He went
+on silently with his study of the door and the little gap between
+heavy bolts, which, if closed, would mean security from invasion.</p>
+
+<p>"They're about through," McGuire spoke from his post at the window
+after some time. "The rush seems to be about over. I imagine they'll
+pull out in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>He pointed as Sykes stood beside him. "Those big ones over beyond have
+not been touched all day; only some of the crew, I judge, working
+around them. And way over you see forty or fifty whaling big ones:
+they must have been ready before we came. They have finished on these
+nearer by. It looks like a big day for the brutes."</p>
+
+<p>And Professor Sykes led him on to talk more of the preparations he had
+seen, and his deductions as to the morrow. It was all too evident what
+was really on the lieutenant's mind. It was not the thought of their
+own immediate death, but the terrible dread and horror of Althora's
+fate, that hammered and hammered in his brain. To speak of anything
+else meant a moment's relief.</p>
+
+<p>Sykes pointed to a tall mast that was set in the plaza pavement, some
+hundred feet away. Wires swung from it to several points, one of them
+ending above their window and entering the building. "What is that?"
+he asked, "&mdash;some radio device? That ball of metal on the top might be
+an aerial." But McGuire had fallen silent again, and stared stonily at
+the deadly fighting ships he was powerless to combat.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>n the morning that followed, there was no uncertainty. This was the
+day! And from a balconied window up high in the side of a tall stone
+building, two men stood wordless and waiting while they watched the
+preparations below.</p>
+
+<p>The open space was a sea of motion like flowing blood, where thousands
+of figures in dull red marched in rank after rank to be swallowed in
+the mammoth ships that McGuire had noted in the distance. Then other
+colors, and swarms of what they took to be women-folk of this wild
+race&mdash;a medley of color that flowed on and on as if it would never
+cease, to fill one after another of the great ships.</p>
+
+<p>"Transports, that's what they are," said McGuire. "I can see now why
+they have no steel beaks like the others. They don't need any rams,
+nor ports for firing that beastly gas. They are gray, too, while the
+fighting ships are striped with red, all except the scarlet one of
+Torg's. Those are colonists we are watching, and soldiers to conquer
+the Earth where the damned swarm settles."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped to stare at a body of red-clad soldiers, drawn up at
+attention. They made a lane, and their arms were raised in the salute
+that seemed only for Torg. They stood rigid and motionless; then, from
+below the watching men, came one in the full splendor of his scarlet
+regalia. The air echoed with the din of his shouted name, but the
+bedlam of noise fell on deaf ears for McGuire. He could hear nothing,
+and in all the vast kaleidoscope of color he could see only one
+object&mdash;the white face of a girl who was half led<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> and half carried by
+a guard of the red ones, where their Emperor led the way.</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 strangled cry that was torn from the flyer's throat&mdash;the name
+of this girl who was going to the doom she had failed to avoid. Her
+life, she had said, was hers to keep only if she willed, but her plans
+had failed, and she went faltering and stumbling after a scarlet man
+beast.</p>
+
+<p>"Althora!" called the flyer, and the figure of the girl was struggling
+with her guards in a frenzy that tore their hands free. She turned to
+look toward the sound of the voice, and her face was like that of one
+dead as her eyes found the man she loved.</p>
+
+<p>"Tommy," she called: "oh, Tommy, my dear! Good-by!" The words were
+ended by the clutch of the scarlet Emperor who turned to seize her.</p>
+
+<p>A clatter came from the door behind them, but Lieutenant McGuire gave
+no heed. Only Professor Sykes sprang back from the balcony to seize
+and struggle with the moving bolts.</p>
+
+<p>The man on the balcony was hardly less than a maniac as he glared
+wildly about, but he was not too unreasoning to see the folly of a
+wild leap into the throng below. He could never reach her&mdash;never. And
+then his eyes fell upon the wire that led from above him to the great
+pole in the open plaza. There was shouting from behind where the
+executioners were wrestling with the bolts.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold them," the flyer shouted, "just for a minute! For God's sake,
+Sykes, keep them back! There's a chance!"</p>
+
+<p>He sprang to the balustrade of the balcony, but he saw as he leaped
+where Professor Sykes had raised his leg to force the thickness of his
+knee between the bolts whose levers outside were bringing them closer
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to it," was the answer. "I can hold them"&mdash;a stifled groan&mdash;"for
+a&mdash;minute!" Professor Sykes had found his substitute for five inches
+of steel, and the living flesh yielded but slowly to the pressure of
+the bolts.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>cGuire was working frantically at the wire, then held himself in
+check while he carefully unwound it from its fastening. There was a
+splice, and he worked with bleeding fingers to unfasten the tight
+coils. And then the end was free and in his hands. He dropped to the
+balcony to pull in the slack, and he wrapped the end about beneath his
+arms and twisted it tight, then leaped out into space. No thought of
+himself nor of Sykes in this one wild moment, only of Althora in the
+grip of those beastly hands.</p>
+
+<p>He was struggling to turn himself in the air as the colored masses of
+people seemed sweeping toward him, and he shot as a living pendulum,
+feet first, into the waiting heads.</p>
+
+<p>He was on his feet in an instant and tearing at the twisted wire that
+held him. About him was clamor and confusion, but beyond the nearer
+figures he saw the one who waited, and beside her a thing in scarlet
+that shrieked orders to his men.</p>
+
+<p>He flung off one who leaped toward him, and ducked another to dash
+through and reach his man. And he neither saw nor felt the creature's
+ripping talons as he drove a succession of rights and lefts to the
+blood-red face.</p>
+
+<p>The scarlet one went backward under the fusillade of blows; he was
+down, a huddle of color upon the pavement, and a horde of paralyzed
+soldiers had recovered from their stupefaction and were rushing upon
+the flyer. He turned to meet them, but their rush ended as quickly as
+it began: only a step or two they came, then stopped, to add their
+wild voices to the confusion of ear-splitting shrieks that rose from
+all sides.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>cGuire crouched rigid, tense and waiting, nor did he sense for an
+instant that the assault was checked and that the faces of all about
+him were turned to the sky. It was the voice of Althora that aroused
+him:</p>
+
+<p>"Tommy! Tommy!" she was calling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> and now she was at his side, her
+arms about him. "What is it, Tommy? Look! Look!" And she too was
+gazing aloft. And then, above all other sounds McGuire heard the
+roar&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The clouds were golden above with the brilliance of midday&mdash;and
+against them, hard and sharp of outline, was a shining shape. A cloud
+of vapor streamed behind it as it shot down from the clouds, and the
+thunder of its coming was like the roar of many cannon.</p>
+
+<p>A ship of the red ones was in the air&mdash;a fighting ship, whose stripes
+showed red&mdash;and it drove at the roaring menace with its steel beak and
+a swirling cloud of gas. It seemed that they must crash, when to
+McGuire's eyes came the stabbing flash of heavy guns from the shining
+shape. A crashing explosion came down to them as the great beak parted
+and fell, and the body of the red-striped monster opened in bursting
+smoke and flame, tore slowly into fragments and fell swiftly to the
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>It struck with a shattering crash some distance away, but one pair of
+eyes failed to follow it in its fall. For in the clear air above, with
+the golden light of distant clouds upon it, a roaring monster of
+silvery sheen had rolled and swept upward to the heights. And it
+showed, as it turned, a painted emblem on its bow, a design of
+clear-cut color, unbelievably familiar&mdash;a circle of blue, and within
+it a white star and a bull's eye of red&mdash;the mark of the flying
+service of the United States!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>cGuire never knew how he got Althora and himself back to the building
+whence he had come. Nor did he see the struggling figures on a
+balcony, or the leap and fall of a maimed body, where Professor Sykes,
+when the door had yielded, found surcease and oblivion on the pavement
+below.</p>
+
+<p>He was to learn that later, but now he had eyes only for a sight that
+could be but a dream, an unreal vision of a disordered brain. He held
+the slim form of Althora to him in a crushing grip, while he stared,
+dry-eyed, above, and his own voice seemed to shout from afar off:
+"They're ours!" that voice was screaming in a frenzy of exultation.
+"They're our ships! They've come across!"</p>
+
+<p>The fighting fleet of the red man-things of Venus was taking to the
+air! The ships rose in a swarm of speeding, darting shapes, and the
+great one of Torg was in the lead, climbing in fury toward the
+heights.</p>
+
+<p>Far above them the clouds of gold silhouetted a strange sight, and the
+air was shaking with the thunder from on high, where, straight and
+true, a line of silver ships in the sharp V of battle formation drove
+downward in a deadly, swift descent.</p>
+
+<p>And even afar off, the straining eyes of a half-crazed man could see
+the markings on their bow&mdash;a circle and a star&mdash;and the colors of his
+own lost fighters of the air.</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER XIX</h4>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+<p>he Earth-fleet was a slanting line of swiftness that swept downward
+from the clouds. A swarm of craft was rising from below. The
+red-striped fighters met the attack first with a cloud of gas.</p>
+
+<p>The scarlet monster&mdash;the flagship of Torg, the Emperor&mdash;was in the
+lead, and they shot with terrific speed across the bows of the
+oncoming fleet to leave a whirlwind of deadly vapor as they passed.
+McGuire held his breath in an agony of fear as the cloud enveloped the
+line of ships, but their bow guns roared staccato crashes in the
+thunder of their exhausts as they entered the cloud. And they were
+firing from the stern as they emerged, while two falling cylinders of
+red and white proved the effectiveness of their fire.</p>
+
+<p>The formation held true as it swept upward and back where the swarming
+enemy was waiting. They were outnumbered three to one, McGuire saw,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
+and his heart sang within him as he watched the sharp, speeding V that
+climbed upward to the enemy's level then swung to throw itself like a
+lance of light at the massed ships that awaited the attack.</p>
+
+<p>Another cloud of gas!&mdash;and a shattered ship!&mdash;and again the line
+emerged to correct its broken formation and drive once more toward the
+circling swarm.</p>
+
+<p>They came to meet them now, the clusters of red-striped fighting
+ships, and they tore in from all sides upon the American line, their
+hooked beaks gleaming in the sun.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>nd now, at an unseen signal, the formation broke. Each ship fought
+for its life, and the stabbing flashes of their guns made ceaseless
+jets of light against the smoke and gas clouds that were darkening the
+sky.</p>
+
+<p>"A dog-fight!" breathed Lieutenant McGuire; "and what a dog-fight!"
+His words were lost in the terrific thunder from above: the roar of
+the ships and the dull thuds of the guns engulfed them in a maelstrom
+of noise that battered like physical blows on the watchers below. He
+swore unconsciously and called down curses upon the enemy as he saw
+two fighters meet while the shining beak of a ship of the reds crashed
+through the body of an opposing craft.</p>
+
+<p>The red ship dipped at the bow; it backed off with terrific force; and
+from the curved beak a ship with the insignia of the red, white and
+blue slid downward in a swift fall to the death that waited.</p>
+
+<p>They had fought themselves clear, and the Americans, by what must have
+been arrangement or wireless order, went roaring to the heights. There
+were some who followed, but the guns of the speeding ships drove them
+off. Red-and-white shapes fell swiftly from the clouds where the
+fighting had been, and McGuire knew that his fellows had given an
+account of themselves in the fighting at close range.</p>
+
+<p>Again the thundering line was sharp and true, and another unswerving
+attack was launching itself from above. And again the deadly
+formation, with ever-increasing speed, drove into the enemy with
+flashing guns, then parted to close with the ones that drove
+crushingly upon them, while the sharper clatter of rapid-firing guns
+came to shatter the air.</p>
+
+<p>The fighting craft had been rising from their level field in a
+succession that seemed endless. They were all in the air now, and only
+the great transports remained on the paved field.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; red-striped fighter swept downward in retreat, and, from the smoke
+clouds, a silvery shape followed in pursuit. It reached the red and
+white one with its shells, and the great mass crashed with terrific
+impact on the field. Its pursuer must have seen the monsters still on
+the ground, and it swung to rake them with a shower of small-caliber
+shells.</p>
+
+<p>There were machine-guns rattling as it passed above the thronged
+reds&mdash;the troops who were huddled in terror in the open court. It tore
+on past them&mdash;past a figure in khaki who raced forward with the golden
+form of a girl within his arms, then released her to wave frantically
+as the silver ship shot by.</p>
+
+<p>Unobserved, McGuire and Althora had been, where they stood beside the
+buildings: the eyes of their enemies, like their own, were on the
+monstrous battle above. But now they had called themselves to the
+attention of the reds, and there were some who rushed upon them with
+faces livid with rage.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire reached for a weapon from a victim of the machine-gun fire and
+prepared to defend himself, but the weapon was never used. He saw the
+silvery shape reverse itself in the air; it turned sharply to throw
+itself back toward the solitary figure in uniform of their service and
+the golden-clad girl beside him.</p>
+
+<p>The flyer raised his weapon, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> jostling swarm that rushed upon
+him melted: the ripping fire of machine guns was deafening in his
+ears. Their deadly tattoo continued while the great ship sank slowly
+to touch and rest its huge bulk upon the pavement. A door in the
+ship's curved side opened that the blocky figure of a man might leap
+forth.</p>
+
+<p>He was grimy of face, and his uniform was streaked with the smoke and
+sweat of battle, but the face beneath the grime, and the hands that
+reached to embrace and pound the flyer upon the back, could be only
+those of one he had known as his captain&mdash;Captain Blake.</p>
+
+<p>"You son-of-a-gun!" the shouting figure was repeating. "You damned
+Irish son-of-a-gun! A. W. O. L.&mdash;but you can't get away with it! Come
+on&mdash;get in here! I'm needed up above!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="60" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>cGuire was struggling to speak from a throat that was suddenly tight
+and voiceless. Then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Althora," he gasped; "take Althora!" and he motioned toward the girl.
+And then he remembered the companion he had left in the room above.
+The battle that had flashed so suddenly had blasted from his mind all
+other thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" he said. "&mdash;Sykes! I&mdash;must get Sykes!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned to run back to the building, only to stop in consternation
+where a huddle of clothing lay beneath the balcony of their prison
+room.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sykes&mdash;Sykes who had sacrificed himself to make possible the
+escape of his friend&mdash;and McGuire dropped to his knees to touch the
+body that he knew was shattered beyond any hope of life. He raised the
+limp burden in his arms and staggered back where more khaki-clad
+figures had gathered. Two came quickly out to meet him, and he let
+them take the body of his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>C'est fini!</i>"&mdash;he repeated the words that Sykes had said; "the end
+of our little journey!" The arms of Althora were about him as Blake
+hurried them into the waiting ship, and the roar of enormous power
+marked the rising of this space ship to throw itself again into the
+fray.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; small room with a dome of shatter-proof glass; a pilot who sat there
+to look in all directions, a control-board beneath his hands. Beside
+him on his elevated station was room for Captain Blake, and McGuire
+and Althora, too. The ship was climbing swiftly. McGuire saw where
+flashing shapes circled and roared in a swelling cloud of smoke and
+gas.</p>
+
+<p>Blake spoke sharply to an aide: "General orders! All ships climb to
+resume formation!"</p>
+
+<p>An enemy ship was before them: it flashed from nowhere to bear down
+with terrific speed. The floor beneath them shook with the jarring of
+heavy guns, and McGuire saw the advancing shape bursting with puffs of
+smoke, while their own ship shot upward with a sickening twist. A
+silver ship was falling!&mdash;and another!</p>
+
+<p>"Two more of ours gone," said Captain Blake through set teeth. "How
+many of them are there, Mac? Tell me what you know: we've got a hell
+of a fight on our hands."</p>
+
+<p>"They're all here," McGuire told him, in jerky, breathless speech.
+"These are transports on the ground. Their weapons are gas and speed,
+and the rams on their beaked ships. There are other weapons&mdash;deadlier
+ones!&mdash;but they haven't got them: they belong to another race. I'll
+tell you all that later!"</p>
+
+<p>"Keep them at a distance, Blake," he said. "Make them come to
+you&mdash;then nail them as they come."</p>
+
+<p>"Right!" was the answer; "that's good dope. We didn't know what they
+had; expected some devilish things that could down us before we got
+within effective range; had to mix it with them to find out what they
+could do, and get in a few solid cracks before they did it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How high are we?" He glanced quickly at an instrument. "Ten thousand.
+Order all ships to withdraw," he instructed his aide. "Rendezvous at
+fifty thousand feet for echelon formation."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>nother brush with an enemy craft that slipped quickly to one
+side&mdash;then the smoke clouds were behind them, and a score, of silvery
+shapes were climbing in vertical flight for the level at fifty
+thousand.</p>
+
+<p>They were fewer now than they had been, and the line that formed
+behind the flagship of Blake was shorter than the one that had made
+the V which shot down so bravely to engage with an unknown foe.</p>
+
+<p>The enemy was below; an arrangement of mirrors showed this from the
+commander's station. They were emerging from the clouds of smoke to
+swarm in circling flight through the sky. And now the bow of their own
+craft was depressed at an order from Blake, and the others were behind
+them as they drove to renew the attack.</p>
+
+<p>"They're ganging up on us again," said Blake. "We'll fool them this
+time; we'll just kid them a little."</p>
+
+<p>The flagship swerved before reaching the enemy, and the others
+followed in what looked like frightened retreat. Again they were in
+the heights, and some few of the enemy were following. Blake led in
+another descent.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="49" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>o waiting swarm to greet them now! Blake gave a quick order. The
+roaring column shifted position as it fell: the flagship was the apex
+of a great V whose arms flung out and backward on either side&mdash;a V
+formation that curved and twisted through space and thundered upon the
+smaller formations that scattered before the blasting guns.</p>
+
+<p>"Our bow guns are the effective weapons," Blake observed; his casual
+tone was a sedative to McGuire's tense nerves. "We can use a broadside
+only of lighter weight; the kick of the big 'sights' has to be taken
+straight back. But we're working, back home, on recoil-absorbing guns:
+we'll make fighting ships of these things yet."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke quietly to the pilot to direct their course toward a group
+that came sweeping upon them, and the massed fire of the squadron was
+squarely into the oncoming beaks that fell beneath them where the
+mirrors showed them crashing to the earth.</p>
+
+<p>They were scattered now; the enemy was in wild disorder; and Blake
+spoke sharply to his aide.</p>
+
+<p>"Break formation," he ordered; "every ship for itself. Engage the
+enemy where they find them; shoot down anything they see; prevent the
+enemy reforming!" He was taking quick advantage of the other's
+scattered forces, and he scattered his own that he knew could take
+care of themselves while they engaged the enemy only by ones or twos
+or threes.</p>
+
+<p>"Clear the air of them!" he ordered. "Not one of them must escape!"</p>
+
+<p>The skies were a maze of darting shapes that crossed and recrossed to
+make a spider's web of light. Ship drove at ship, to swerve off at the
+last, while the air quivered and beat upon them with the explosion of
+shells and guns.</p>
+
+<p>"There's our meat!" Blake directed the pilot, and pointed ahead where
+a monster in scarlet was swelling into view.</p>
+
+<p>It came swiftly upon them, darting down from above, and McGuire
+clutched at the arm of the man beside him to shout: "It's the leader;
+the flagship! It's the Emperor&mdash;Torg, himself! Give him hell, Blake,
+but look out&mdash;he's fast!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he ship was upon them like a flash of fire; no time for anything but
+dodging, and the pilot threw his craft wildly aside with a swerve that
+sent the men sprawling against a stanchion. Then up and back, where
+the other had turned to come up from below.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Fast!" McGuire had said, but the word was inadequate to describe the
+speed of the fiery shape.</p>
+
+<p>Another leap in the air, as their pilot swung his controls, and the
+red shape brushed past them in a cloud of gas, while the quick-firers
+ripped futilely into space where the great ship had been.</p>
+
+<p>"Get your bow guns on him!" Blake roared. The ship beneath them
+strained and shuddered with the incredible thunder of the generator
+that threw them bodily in the air. The pilot had opened in full force
+the ports that blasted their bows aside.</p>
+
+<p>No time to gather new speed; they were motionless as the scarlet
+monster came upon them, but they were in position to receive him. The
+eight-inch rifles of the forward turret thundered again and again, to
+be answered by flashes of flame from the scarlet ship.</p>
+
+<p>McGuire crouched over the bent form of the pilot, whose steady fingers
+held the ship's bow straight upon the flashing death that bore down
+upon them. Another salvo!&mdash;and another!&mdash;hits all of them.... Smoke
+bursting from ripping plates, and flaming fire more vivid than the
+scarlet shape itself!&mdash;and the floor beneath McGuire's feet drove
+crushingly upward as their pilot pulled a lever to the full.</p>
+
+<p>The great beak flashed beneath&mdash;and the mirrors, where McGuire's eyes
+were fastened, showed the terrific drive continue down and down, where
+a brilliant cylinder that marked the power of Venus tore shriekingly
+on to carry an Emperor to his crashing death.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>he skies were clear of the red-striped ships: only the survivors of
+the attacking force showed their silvery shapes as they gathered near
+their flagship. There were two that pursued a small group of the
+enemy, but they were being outdistanced in the race.</p>
+
+<p>"We have won," said Blake in a tone of wonder that showed how only now
+had come a realization of what the victory meant. "We have won, and
+the earth&mdash;is saved!"</p>
+
+<p>And the voice of McGuire echoed his fervent "Thank God!" while he
+gripped the soft hand that clung tightly to his, as if Althora, this
+radiant creature of Venus, were timid and abashed among the joyful,
+shouting men-folk from another world.</p>
+
+<p>"And now what, Captain?" asked McGuire of his command. "Will you land?
+There is an army of reds down there asking for punishment."</p>
+
+<p>Blake had turned away; his hand made grimy smears across his face
+where he wiped away the tears that marked a brave man's utter
+thankfulness. He covered his emotion with an affectation of
+disapproval as he swung back toward McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain?" he inquired. "Captain? Where do you get that captain
+stuff?"</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to an emblem on his uniform, a design that was unfamiliar
+to the eyes of McGuire.</p>
+
+<p>"You're talking to an admiral now!&mdash;the first admiral of the newest
+branch of your country's fighting service&mdash;commanding the first fleet
+of the Space ships of the United States of America!" He threw one arm
+about the other's shoulders. "We'll have to get busy, Mac," he added,
+"and think up a new rank for you.</p>
+
+<p>"And, yes, we are going to land," he continued in his customary tones;
+"there may be survivors of our own crashes. But we'll have to count on
+you, Mac, to show us around this little new world of yours."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>here was an army waiting, as McGuire had warned, but it was waiting
+to give punishment and not to take it. The vast expanse of the landing
+field was swarming with them, and the open country beyond showed
+columns of marching troops.</p>
+
+<p>They had learned, too, to take shelter; barricades had been hastily
+erected, and the men had shields to protect them from the fire of
+small arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Their bodies were enclosed in their gas-tight uniforms whose ugly
+head-pieces served only to conceal the greater ugliness beneath. They
+met the ships as they landed with a showering rain of gas that was
+fired from huge projectors.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so good!" Blake was speaking in the safety of his ship. "We have
+masks, but great heavens, Mac!&mdash;there must be a million of those
+brutes. We can spray them with machine-gun fire, but we haven't
+ammunition enough to make a dent in them. And we've got to get out and
+get to our crashed ships."</p>
+
+<p>He waited for McGuire's suggestions, but it was Althora who replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" she said imperatively. She seemed to be listening to some
+distant word. Then:</p>
+
+<p>"Djorn is coming," she exclaimed, and her eyes were brilliantly
+alight. "He says to you"&mdash;she pointed to McGuire&mdash;"that you were
+right, that we must fight like hell sometimes to deserve our
+heaven&mdash;oh, I told him what you said&mdash;and now he is coming with all
+his men!"</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil?" asked Blake in amazement. "How does she know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Telepathy," McGuire explained: "she is talking with her brother, the
+leader of the real inhabitants of Venus."</p>
+
+<p>He told the wondering man briefly of his experience and of the people
+themselves, the real owners of this world.</p>
+
+<p>"But what can they do?" Blake demanded.</p>
+
+<p>And McGuire assured him: "Plenty!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>e turned to Althora to ask, "How are they coming? How will they get
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are marching underground; they have been coming for two days.
+They knew of our being captured, but the people have been slow in
+deciding to fight. Djorn dared not tell me of their coming; he feared
+he might be too late.</p>
+
+<p>"They will come out of that building," she said, and indicated the
+towering structure that had been their prison. "It has the old
+connection with the underground world."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they'd better be good!" said Blake incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>He was still less optimistic when the building before them showed the
+coming of a file of men. They poured forth, in orderly fashion and
+ranged themselves in single file along the walls.</p>
+
+<p>There must be a thousand, McGuire estimated, and he wondered if the
+women, too, were fighting for their own. Then, remembering Althora's
+brave insistence, he knew his surmise was correct.</p>
+
+<p>Each one was masked against the gas; their faces were concealed; and
+each one held before him a tube of shining metal with a larger bulbous
+end that rested in their hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Electronic projectors," the lieutenant whispered. "Keep your eye on
+the enemy, Blake; you are going to learn something about war."</p>
+
+<p>The thin line was advancing now and the gas billowed about them as
+they came. There were some few who dropped, where masks were
+defective, but the line came on, and the slim tubes were before them
+in glittering menace.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>t a distance of a hundred feet from the first of the entrenched enemy
+there was a movement along the line, as if the holders of the tubes
+had each set a mechanism in operation. And before the eyes of the
+Earth-men was a spectacle of horror like nothing in wars they had
+known.</p>
+
+<p>The barricades were instantly a roaring furnace; the figures that
+leaped from behind them only added to the flames. From the steady rank
+of the attackers poured an invisible something before which the hosts
+of the enemy fell in huddles of flame. Those nearest were blasted from
+sight in a holocaust of horror, and where they had been was a
+scattering of embers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> that smoked and glowed; even the figures of
+distant ones stumbled and fell.</p>
+
+<p>The myriad fighters of the army of the red ones, when the attackers
+shut off their invisible rays, was a screaming mob that raced wildly
+over the open lands beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Althora's hands were covering her eyes, but McGuire and Blake, and the
+crowding men about them, stared in awe and utter astonishment at the
+devastation that was sweeping this world. An army annihilated before
+their eyes! Scores of thousands, there must be, of the dead!</p>
+
+<p>The voice of Blake was husky with horror. "What a choice little bit
+out of hell!" he exclaimed. "Mac, did you say they were our friends?
+God help us if they're not!"</p>
+
+<p>"They are," said McGuire grimly. "Those are Althora's people who had
+forgotten how to fight; they are recapturing something that they lost
+some centuries ago. But can they ever destroy the rest of that swarm?
+I don't think they have the heart to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"They do not need." It was Althora speaking. "My people are sickened
+with the slaughter. But the red ones will go back into the earth, and
+we will seal them in!&mdash;it is Djorn who tells me&mdash;and the world will be
+ours forevermore."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="51" height="50" /></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp; matter of two short days, crammed to the uttermost with the
+realization of the astounding turn of events&mdash;and McGuire and Althora
+stood with Blake and Djorn, the ruler, undisputed, of the beautiful
+world of Venus. A fleet of great ships was roaring high in air. One
+only, the flagship, was waiting where their little group stood.</p>
+
+<p>The bodies of the fallen had been recovered; they were at rest now in
+the ships that waited above. McGuire looked about in final wonder at
+the sparkling city bathed in a flood of gold. A kindly city
+now&mdash;beautiful; the terrors it had held were fading from his mind. He
+turned to Althora.</p>
+
+<p>"We are going home," he said softly, "you and I."</p>
+
+<p>"Home?" Althora's voice was vibrant with dismay.</p>
+
+<p>"We need you here, friend Mack Guire," the voice of Djorn broke in, in
+protest. "You have something that we lack&mdash;a force and vision&mdash;something
+we have lost."</p>
+
+<p>"We will be back," the flyer assured him. "You befriended me: anything
+I can do in return&mdash;" The grip of his hand completed the sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"But there is a grave to be made on the summit of Mount Lawson," he
+added quietly. "I think he would have preferred to lie there&mdash;at the
+end of his journey&mdash;and I must return to the service where I have not
+yet been mustered out."</p>
+
+<p>"But you said&mdash;you were going home," faltered Althora. "Will that
+always be home to you, Tommy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Home, my dear," he whispered in words that reached her only, "is just
+where you are." His arm went about her to draw her toward the waiting
+ship. "There or here&mdash;what matter? We will be content."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were misty as they smiled an answer. Within the ship that was
+lifting them, they turned to watch a city of opal light grow faintly
+luminous in the distance ... an L-shaped continent shrunk to tiny size ...
+and the nebulous vapors of the cloudland that enclosed this world folded
+softly about.</p>
+
+<p>"We will lead," the voice of Blake was saying to an aide: "same
+formation that we used coming over. Give the necessary orders. But,"
+he added slowly to himself, "the line will be shorter; there are fewer
+of us now."</p>
+
+<p>An astronomical officer laid a chart before the commander. "We are on
+the course, sir," he reported.</p>
+
+<p>"Full speed," Blake gave the order, and the thundering generator
+answered from the stern. The Space Fleet of America was going home.</p>
+
+
+<h4>(<i>The End</i>)</h4>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/image_011.jpg" width="600" height="548" alt=""  />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="Readers_Corner" id="Readers_Corner"></a>The Reader's Corner</h2>
+
+<p class="p1"><i>"Absurd" to "Superb"</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, I missed the January number of your very
+excellent magazine, which I consider superior to any of its
+type. I brought seven copies&mdash;February to August&mdash;with me on
+my vacation, and have so far read the first three from cover
+to cover.</p>
+
+<p>The February and March numbers were almost above reproach,
+but the April number contained two stories so surprisingly
+poor that I can only conjecture the Editor was ill at that
+time. They were "The Man who was Dead," by Thomas H. Knight
+and "Monsters of Moyen," by Arthur J. Burks. For Mr. Knight
+there is no hope. To him I can only say "Stop trying to
+write and get a job." I am a rapid and omnivorous reader,
+but never have I read a story so utterly bad as his. He gets
+the booby prize.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur J. Burks, although a master artist in comparison to
+Knight, is pretty poor&mdash;terrible, in fact. His style is
+dull, repetitious, and stilted. His melodrama is exaggerated
+to the point of nauseating absurdity. His characters are
+lifeless and unnatural puppets. So much for the faults.</p>
+
+<p>Among the best Science Fiction stories I have read is "The
+Planet of Dread," by R. F. Starzl in the August number. I
+also very much enjoyed the "Dr. Bird" stories by Capt. Meek,
+and indeed all the others, barring the two I criticized in
+such a helpful, friendly spirit. Leinster and Cummings are
+old favorites of mine.</p>
+
+<p>I prefer your present cover but disagree with your attitude
+towards reprinting the older works of such authors as George
+Allen England, Serviss and Cummings, which are now
+unobtainable and would, I believe, be received with pleasure
+and applause.</p>
+
+<p>Congratulations&mdash;Joseph S. Stull, 291 Barrington St.,
+Rochester, N. Y.</p>
+
+<p>P.S. Since I wrote I have read the May and June
+numbers&mdash;both perfect. C. D. Willard is a superb
+storyteller.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>Wrong Numbers Still!</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>I agree with the rest of your readers in the good things
+they say about your magazine in "The Readers' Corner." There
+is one story, however, "The Planet of Dread," in your August
+issue, that gives me a rather sickening feeling of disgust.
+The trouble was in the climax. After the hero has wandered
+over quite a portion of the planet Inra, he arrives at some
+mountains where, lo and behold! an unexpected space ship
+drops from the clouds to an unfrequented ledge of rock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> and
+makes a rescue. After this sensational climax comes an
+equally thrilling anti-climax&mdash;the hero is offered three
+years' salary for his story. To accuse the future world of
+doing such a thing is an open insult to our posterity. Ten
+per cent of my high school freshmen took just such an ending
+to their first themes.</p>
+
+<p>As that story took up about one-seventh of your space and
+your magazine cost twenty cents. I figure you owe your
+readers three cents on that issue. But, due to the fineness
+of the rest of your stories, I am willing to forget your
+debt as far as I am concerned.</p>
+
+<p>I am happy to see that you are beginning to print articles.
+I read with interest the one about Mechanical Voices for
+Telephone Numbers in your September issue. But can't
+something be done about wrong numbers? The article states
+that a person dialed the number 8561T. Two seconds later the
+loud-speaker spoke up, clearly, in an almost human voice,
+8651T. Wrong number! Must this evil be with us always!</p>
+
+<p>I am NOT in favor of reprints. You are printing stories
+every month just as good as any of those suggested to you. I
+have read most of those classic scientific stories referred
+to. The best stories along this line have not been written
+yet. Keep your space clear for them. Let us have young blood
+with new ideas. Let our authors eat. Good stories were never
+written on an empty stomach.</p>
+
+<p>I believe yours is the highest type of the few magazines
+that lay a greater stress on the brains of the hero than on
+his good looks. But, for the sake of one of your ardent
+readers, let that hero use his brains to get himself out of
+whatever he has gotten into. Don't let a space ship swoop
+down from above to rescue him. That type of story reminds me
+a lot of the one where Jonah was rescued from the deep by
+the timely arrival of the friendly whale. By the way,
+there's a suggestion for a reprint. I will admit that it
+would be just about as new to me as some of the others that
+have been suggested in this "Corner."&mdash;Richard Lewis, 448
+Marion St., Knoxville, Iowa.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>Not So "Green" in Ireland</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>I suppose it's not often you get a letter from an Irish
+"Paddy," but here's one now. Here in Cork we don't get
+magazines like Astounding Stories regularly, but I got the
+May issue to-day and could not stop until I had devoured it
+from cover to cover. "The Atom Smasher" is a story which I
+have been hunting for for years. When I had finished it, I
+had to sit back and leave out all the breath which I was
+holding in in a prolonged "whew!" If ever I get the luck to
+find another Astounding Stories I'll burn up the pages
+looking for the name Victor Rousseau. Next in order I liked
+"Brigands of the Moon" and "The Jovian Jest." Thought the
+story "Into the Ocean's Depths" an awful fairy tale, but
+otherwise good reading. The painter of the cover design is a
+real artist and I wish to express my appreciation of his
+wonderful rendering of a difficult subject.&mdash;Fitz-Gerald
+Grattan, 11 Frankfield Terrace, Summerhill South, Cork,
+Irish Free State.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>Worthy His Evening and Pipe</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>I have read my first copy of Astounding Stories, the
+September.</p>
+
+<p>The first paragraph in the first part of "A Problem in
+Communication" assured me that I had found a book worthy of
+my evening and pipe.</p>
+
+<p>Read that paragraph and you will find Dr. Miles Breuer is
+most brilliant in his philosophy and clever in the
+application of that philosophy in his masterpiece of the
+science of communication.&mdash;Don L. Schweitzer, 1402 Bancroft
+St., Omaha, Nebr.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>"Taking a Claw Hold"</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>Was just reading the September issue of A. S. and find it
+ranging first among the Science Fiction magazines now
+printed. I'm certain your "Jetta of the Lowlands" is going
+to be a masterpiece of Ray Cummings. He is my favorite
+writer.</p>
+
+<p>I did not like "Earth, the Marauder." It was too much drawn
+out and very dry. "Brigands of the Moon" was excellent.</p>
+
+<p>I wish you would print my letter, as I'd like any one, male
+of female, interested in science to write to me. Would you
+kindly oblige me?</p>
+
+<p>I'm glad to see girls taking interest in your magazine, as
+it shown science is taking a claw hold on everyone&mdash;Harold
+BegGell, 29 Stewart St., Washington, N. J.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>This and That</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>In the October issue of Astounding Stories, Mr. Woodrow
+Gelman casts vote No. 1 for reprints. Well, here is vote No.
+2. I intended to reply to all your arguments against
+reprint, but Mr. Gelman has done this very satisfactorily,
+indeed. I only wish to make a few additional comments.</p>
+
+<p>You say that only one out of a hundred haven't read reprints
+[?]. Fifty out of a hundred would be more correct. Five
+years ago there wasn't a single magazine devoted exclusively
+to Science Fiction. Now there are six of them, more or less.
+These magazines have converted thousands of readers into
+Science Fiction fans. These readers ought to be given a
+chance to read the old masterpieces. Even those who have
+read them would be glad to reread them.</p>
+
+<p>With the exception of the reprints you have pretty near
+carried out all the readers' wishes. You have put in a
+readers' department, increased Wesso's illustrations, given
+us many interplanetary stories, and given us the stories of
+the leading authors of the day. Surely you can give us
+reprints when the demand for them is so universal. The ones
+I want are those written by Cummings, Merritt, Rousseau and
+Serviss, and I am sure that the rest of the readers want
+them too. If you are still doubtful, the fairest thing to do
+is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> to conduct a vote among the readers. I hope that you
+will pardon me for being so persistent, but I am sure that
+you are working in the best interests of the readers and
+that you will accede to a great and growing popular demand.</p>
+
+<p>Now about the latest issue of Astounding Stories. "The
+Invisible Death" is the best novelette you have printed up
+to now. With the exception of Ray Cummings, the best author
+you have is Victor Rousseau. I am glad to see that there is
+another story by Rousseau scheduled for next month. Murray
+Leinster is a close third, and I hope to see more of his
+stories soon. The second part of "Jetta of the Lowlands" was
+better than the first. "Stolen Brains" was also excellent.
+Keep on printing the Dr. Bird stories. I like them very
+much.</p>
+
+<p>Although the stories were splendid, the cover illustration
+was poor. I believe that this is the worst cover that Wesso
+has ever drawn. The main fault with it is that there is no
+science in it. It would be more appropriate for one of those
+detective magazines. "The Invisible Death" has many other
+interesting scenes from which Wesso could have chosen a more
+fitting subject. However, Wesso is your best artist and you
+ought to keep him.&mdash;Michael Forgaris, 157 Fourth St.,
+Passale, N. J.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>"Not Spoiled by ... Editor"</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>There is one advantage that Astounding Stories has over all
+of the other Science Fiction magazines. It does not
+overburden one with an exposition of scientific facts. Too
+often a story is ruined by a lot of dry textbook stuff that
+turns an exciting story into a lecture.</p>
+
+<p>In Astounding Stories we can soar away on the wings of
+imagination, escaping the humdrum everyday world to new and
+amazing adventures. The hours fly away like the speed of
+light, and upon finishing the book our only regret is that
+we have to wait a whole month before another issue takes us
+aloft again.</p>
+
+<p>Having unburdened myself thus far, I think it is most
+fitting to comment upon your latest (October) issue. To my
+mind, the stories in order of merit are: "The Invisible
+Death," "Stolen Brains," "Jetta of the Lowlands," "Prisoners
+on the Electron," and "An Extra Man."</p>
+
+<p>I certainly am glad to see Ray Cummings writing for your
+most excellent magazine. He is an A-1 author.</p>
+
+<p>It does not make a particle of difference to me about the
+size of the magazine, but I wish you would have smooth edges
+like those of your Five-Novels Monthly.</p>
+
+<p>Am glad to see that "The Readers' Corner" is enlarged. I
+always turn to this first, even before reading the stories.
+This is a most entertaining department, and I'm glad it is
+not spoiled by any perfunctory remarks from the editor.</p>
+
+<p>How about publishing Astounding Stories twice a month?&mdash;E.
+Anderson, 1765 Southern Blvd., New York City, New York.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>Roses, Daisies and Violets</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>In appreciation of an enjoyable evening of reading&mdash;which
+extended, by the way, into the wee, sma' hours of early
+morning&mdash;I thought to drop you a few lines, speaking of the
+high regards your magazine. Astounding Stories, has won from
+me through merit alone. Your October number particularly
+fitted into my reading mood last night.</p>
+
+<p>After the daily grind of newspaper work, it might seem odd
+that relaxation is sought in "more reading"&mdash;but it has been
+my experience, and that of many of my co-workers. I find,
+that the relief from the high tension of our trade comes
+from the change in the character of what we read, rather
+than in "something else," such as physical recreation.
+Fiction relaxes where "news" has keyed up.</p>
+
+<p>And in the Science Fiction of your magazine's stories of
+super-science, I find the keenest periods of mental
+enjoyment through the admirable selection of Astounding
+Stories' mixed adventure, unique travel and prophetic
+science. In this I am not alone&mdash;a number of my
+acquaintances have reveled likewise in your magazine at my
+suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>I have not quite settled in my mind as to whether you have
+trained your writers to exploit this special field of
+magazine fiction, which you occupy so successfully, or, in
+your editorial capacity, have so well selected the stories
+that bear the hallmarks of this peculiar interest that
+appeals so strongly to my leisure hours.</p>
+
+<p>By whichever road your success has been reached is
+immaterial&mdash;Astounding Stories has registered with me in a
+degree which should be flattering to your editorial
+supervision, if I represent, as I think I do, that large
+class of magazine readers who prefer and seek a
+science-coated outlet from the humdrum of every day living
+in mental adventure and travel-thrill reading.</p>
+
+<p>Have I presented clearly why and how much I like your
+magazine of Astounding Stories!&mdash;E. P. Neill, 910 East Ave.,
+Red Wing, Minn.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>"Much Easier to Turn"</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>Once more I am impelled to give a roar. The last few issues
+have been filled with letters from readers who are evidently
+not satisfied with a "different" magazine. If they do not
+like to read "our" magazine then let them quit, but don't
+let a heckling minority spoil a real treat. My particular
+growl this time is directed towards Robert Baldwin and
+others of his ilk, who squawk about the size (i. e. length
+and width) of the mag and the uneven pages. The size is
+perfect (and just because the craze for standardization has
+hit some of the other Science Fiction mags and they have
+gone ga-ga over being an awkward shape, that is no reason
+for your going ahead and spoiling this one) and the uneven
+pages are a relief when reading because it is much easier to
+turn over a leaf when they are of a slightly different
+width.</p>
+
+<p>However, to take some of the sting off, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> must say some of
+the ideas of said Mr. Baldwin are O. K. Enlarge the mag&mdash;of
+course you will, as readers increase and sales go up.
+Larger, as he says, "It will be worth the other jitney." Put
+ads in the rear. Have full page illustrations when possible.
+But another thing he is absolutely wrong on. Please do not
+adopt the antique method of continuing a story on page
+umptyump.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the readers are still yowling for reprints. Well, it
+is true that some reprints would be very acceptable.
+However, as most of the really good old-time tales of
+Science Fiction can be procured in any good sized library,
+why bother to print them and thus decrease the space
+allotted to our new authors, some of whom are even better
+than Wells, Verne, etc., much as I like the old masters.</p>
+
+<p>By the way, my "enlarge" in the second paragraph means in
+thickness (amount of reading matter), not shape.</p>
+
+<p>Wesso has always been good, and he seems to be improving,
+though he and others might be still better if they would
+carefully read the descriptions of persons and animals of
+other planets before picturing them. I don't wish to make
+this blurb too long, so will not be specific, but you and
+others probably have seen the same as I, where the
+illustration has not been true to the description.</p>
+
+<p>It might interest you to know that I have been instrumental
+in getting several new readers for Astounding Stories. Long
+live "our" new mag.&mdash;Robert J Hyatt, 1353 Kenyon St., N. W.,
+Washington, D. C.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>Ow! Ow! Ow!</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>I have just looked at "The Reader's Corner" in the October
+issue of Astounding Stories. It disgusted me. What you print
+there&mdash;only letters praising your magazine to the skies?&mdash;or
+do you occasionally print a brickbat?</p>
+
+<p>I've bought your magazine each time since it was first
+printed. And many times I've felt like quitting. Why? There
+are a number of reasons.</p>
+
+<p>First, you print stories that have nothing to do with
+science, such as "The Soul Master." Second, your
+illustrations are poor. They would look better if they were
+full page ones. Wesso is the best artist you have. Gould and
+Sabo are just plain cartoonists, and mighty poor ones at
+that. Third, you print stories that give a weak and
+implausible scientific basis. Diffin, Gee, Leinster and
+several others err in this respect. Fourth, rotten paper&mdash;it
+goes to pieces after being handled. Fifth, no editorial or
+science questionnaire.</p>
+
+<p>Your authors will not starve if you print reprints. Rousseau
+and a lot of others write for other magazines. And reprints
+would occupy such a measly space that they could hardly be
+called down for being printed.</p>
+
+<p>Your magazine has some good features: a good cover; good
+authors like Breuer, Vincent, Meek, Ernst and Starzl; clear
+type; and handy size.</p>
+
+<p>If anyone thinks I'm wrong&mdash;well my address is given. This
+challenge includes the editor. I sincerely hope you will
+improve your magazine&mdash;Edwin C. Magnuson, 1205 E. Ninth St.,
+Duluth, Minn.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p1"><i>Suggestions</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear Editor:</p>
+
+<p>I have read your excellent magazine ever since it came out,
+and though it needs a few corrections like the others, A. S.
+is nearly perfect. Why not have your pages evened up, and
+add a department of science on subjects such as Rocket
+Propulsion etc., so the readers could become familiar with
+the mystifying problems stated in the stories? Have the
+advertisements in the back, and don't change your artists as
+their work is satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>Robert Baldwin of Illinois has an excellent list of
+suggestions. Why not have a page devoted to the pictures and
+biographies of your writers, and full page illustrations?
+Why not have a space for good reprints and charge a nickel
+more? I am sure it will be appreciated by readers. Why don't
+you put out a Quarterly, twice as thick or containing twice
+as many stories for fifty cents?&mdash;A satisfied reader&mdash;Hume
+V. Stephani, 37-1/2 Wood St., Auburn, New York.</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&mdash;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&mdash;everything's welcome here; so "come over in 'The Readers'
+Corner'" and discuss it with all of us!</p>
+
+<p class="p2">&mdash;<i>The Editor.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image_012.jpg" width="500" height="78" alt="Advertisement."  />
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Astounding Stories, February, 1931, by Various
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,10350 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories, February, 1931, 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, February, 1931
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30124]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES, FEBRUARY, 1931 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              ASTOUNDING
+
+                               STORIES
+
+                                 20c
+
+
+              _On Sale the First Thursday of Each Month_
+
+
+                       W. M. CLAYTON, Publisher
+                         HARRY BATES, Editor
+                  DOUGLAS M. DOLD, Consulting Editor
+
+
+The Clayton Standard on a Magazine Guarantees
+
+    _That_ the stories therein are clean, interesting, vivid, by leading
+           writers of the day and purchased under conditions approved by
+           the Authors' League of America;
+
+    _That_ such magazines are manufactured in Union shops by American
+           workmen;
+
+    _That_ each newsdealer and agent is insured a fair profit;
+
+    _That_ an intelligent censorship guards their advertising pages.
+
+
+_The other Clayton magazines are:_
+
+ACE-HIGH MAGAZINE, RANCH ROMANCES, COWBOY STORIES, CLUES, FIVE-NOVELS
+MONTHLY, ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, RANGELAND LOVE STORY MAGAZINE,
+WESTERN ADVENTURES, and WESTERN LOVE STORIES.
+
+_More than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demand
+for Clayton Magazines._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VOL. V. No. 2            CONTENTS            FEBRUARY, 1931
+
+COVER DESIGN                    H. W. WESSO
+
+    _Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "The Tentacles from Below."_
+
+WEREWOLVES OF WAR               D. W. HALL                153
+
+    _The Story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of Capt. Lance's Heroic Part in
+     America's Last Mighty Battle with the United Slavs._
+
+THE TENTACLES FROM BELOW        ANTHONY GILMORE           172
+
+    _Down to Tremendous Ocean Depths Goes Commander Keith Wells in His
+     Blind Duel with the Marauding "Machine-Fish."_
+     (A Complete Novelette.)
+
+THE BLACK LAMP                  CAPTAIN S. P. MEEK        212
+
+    _Dr. Bird and His Friend Carnes Unravel Another Criminal Web of
+     Scientific Mystery._
+
+PHALANXES OF ATLANS             F. V. W. MASON            228
+
+    _Only in Dim Legends Did Mankind Remember Atlantis and the
+     Lost Tribes--Until Victor Nelson's Extraordinary Adventure
+     in the Unknown Arctic._ (Beginning a Two-Part Novel.)
+
+THE PIRATE PLANET               CHARLES W. DIFFIN         261
+
+    _From Earth and Sub-Venus Converge a Titanic Offensive of Justice
+     on the Unspeakable Man-Things of Torg._ (Conclusion.)
+
+THE READERS' CORNER             ALL OF US                 277
+
+    _A Meeting Place for Readers of_ ASTOUNDING STORIES.
+
+
+Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents) Yearly Subscription,
+$2.00
+
+Issued monthly by Readers' Guild, Inc., 80 Lafayette Street, New York,
+N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Francis P. Pace, 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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Werewolves of War
+
+_By D. W. Hall_
+
+[Illustration: _"Hay crosses the gulf, taking with him the cord which
+controls the electro-magnet."_ ]
+
+PART I
+
+[Sidenote: The story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of Capt. Lance's heroic
+part in America's last mighty battle with the United Slavs.]
+
+
+Trapped again!
+
+But this time, Lance swore, they'd not get away without paying dearly
+for it!
+
+Under the mesh of his gas-mask the lean lines of his jaw went taut.
+Tense, steely fingers flipped to the knobbed control instruments; the
+gleaming single-seater scout plane catapulted in a screaming
+somersault. Lance's ever-wary sixth sense told him the tongues of
+disintegrating flame had licked the plane's protected belly, and for
+the fact that it was protected he thanked again his stupendous luck.
+He pulled savagely at the squat control stick; the four Rahl-Diesels
+unleashed a torrent of power; and the slim scout rose like a comet,
+and hurtled, the altitude dial's nervous finger proclaimed, to ten
+thousand feet. Lance eased off the power, relaxed slightly, and
+glanced below.
+
+They'd started off a squadron of fifteen planes. Thirteen had crumpled
+beneath that treacherous, stabbing curtain of disintegrating flame.
+Only two of them were left--he and Praed.
+
+Praed, of course!
+
+The fellow's plane was pirouetting nearby. Lance was the squadron
+leader. He jammed his thin-lipped mouth close to the "mike" and
+rasped:
+
+"They trapped us again! There's some damn spy at our base. Stand by,
+Praed! They'll send up a few men to wipe us out, too ... and we're
+goin' to square the account!"
+
+He listened for Praed's answer. Presently it came.
+
+"I can't! They got two of my motors. I'm limping badly. We'd better
+beat it while we can."
+
+Lance's mouth curled. He roared:
+
+"Go on, then, beat it! But I'm goin' to take a couple of 'em, anyway."
+Disgusted, filled with red anger, he flung the phones from his head,
+watched Praed's plane whirl its stubby nose for home, settled himself
+alertly in the low, padded seat and concentrated his attention on the
+ground below.
+
+He'd been right. Tiny, gray-clad figures were pouring from their
+barracks, rushing madly towards the dozen or so planes neatly drawn up
+on the field. Lance's mouth twitched. They probably wondered, down
+there, why the devil he didn't beat it--like Praed! He stroked the
+lever which controlled his five gas bombs, centered his battery of
+incendiary-bullet machine-guns and ruthlessly shoved the control stick
+full over.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Rahl-Diesels pumped at full power; his plane plummetted downwards
+with the speed of light, a hurtling shell of steel. His unexpected
+move took the men below by surprise. Lance knew they needed at least
+ten minutes to prepare another salvo of disintegrating flame; he had
+about four minutes left.
+
+There was a restless, thudding chatter, and his bullets began to mow
+them down.
+
+Lance could see the horrified expressions of the men beneath, and
+chuckled grimly as they sought to escape the wrath of his hot guns. He
+flung bursts of spouting, acid-filled lead at the defenseless planes,
+and saw two of them collapse in shrouds of acrid white smoke. And
+still he dove.
+
+At a bare one hundred feet he tugged the control stick back, and the
+tiny scout groaned under the pull of her motors. Then her snout jolted
+upwards. Lance pounded the gas bomb lever, and smiled a tight smile as
+he sensed the five pills sloping down from their compartment in the
+scout's belly.
+
+A second later came a rolling, ear-numbing crash. Lance, safe at a
+perch of a few thousand feet, grinned as his narrowed eyes beheld the
+sticky curtain of death-crammed gas hug over the enemy base.
+
+"That'll quiet 'em for a few minutes!" he muttered savagely.
+
+A few minutes--but not more. And he had no more bombs; his ammunition
+belts were nearly depleted. "I guess," he murmured, "I'd better follow
+that quitter, Praed. I've paid 'em for the boys they got, anyway!"
+
+He levelled the plane out, threw a last glance at the carpet of gas he
+had laid, and spurred the purring Rahl-Diesels to their limit. His
+speed dial flashed round to five hundred, five-fifty--seventy--and
+finally rested, quivering, at the scout's full six hundred miles per
+hour.
+
+Under the streamlined plane's speeding body the gnarled, bomb-torn
+terrain of Nevada hurtled by. A rather sad frown creased Lance's
+prematurely old brow as he glimpsed it. Thousands of lives had been
+thrown into that ground; the hot, tumbled waste was doused with
+freely-sacrificed blood, the blood of whole regiments of America's
+heroic First Home Army. Martyred men! Lance couldn't help swearing to
+himself at the bitter thought of that terrible reckoning day. It was
+the price his country had paid for her continued ignoring of the
+festering peril overseas. Slaughtered like sheep, those glorious
+regiments had been! Helpless, almost, before the ultra-modern war
+weapons of the United Slav hordes, they'd stopped the numbingly quick
+advance merely by the weight of their bodies. Like little Belgium, in
+1914. They'd held the Slavs to California, ravished, war-desolated
+California.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The thin front-line trenches far behind, Lance began a slanting dive
+that raised his speed well over six hundred. Through the front
+magnifying mirror he spied the squat khaki buildings of his base.
+Werewolves of War, the batch of planes he belonged to had been
+christened, and it was a richly deserved title. In front of the front
+they fought, detailed to desperate, harrying missions, losing an
+average of ten men a day. The ordeal of gas and fire and acid bullets
+added five years to a man's brow overnight--if he served with the
+Werewolves of War.
+
+Lance was only twenty-four, but his hair was splotched with dead gray
+strands; his eyes were hard and weary; his face lined with new
+wrinkles. Ah, well, it was war--and a losing war, he had to admit,
+that they fought. If a miracle didn't come, America would crumble even
+as old Europe had, before the overwhelming Slavish troops.
+
+Even now, as Lance knew through various rumors, the Slavs were massed
+for a grand attack. And with what could America hold them back?
+
+His helicopter props spun, and the scout nestled down lightly on the
+tarmac. Lance switched off the faithful Rahl-Diesels, swung open the
+tiny door and leaped from the enclosed cockpit.
+
+"Sir," he rapped to thin, stern-browed Colonel Douglas, "there's no
+longer any doubt in my mind. This is the fifth time we've been
+anticipated--trapped! The enemy is informed directly of the attacking
+plans of our scout details. There's a spy at this base!" He lowered
+his eyes for a second and said in a queer tone of voice: "Thirteen of
+'em went down to-day."
+
+Colonel Douglas' tired face showed the never-ceasing strain he was
+under. He clasped hands behind his back, took a few nervous turns up
+and down the small office and finally, with a somewhat hopeless sigh,
+muttered:
+
+"I know, Lance, I know. The devils! They seem to be aware of
+everything we plan. Yet what can we do? Look at the territory our
+front lines cover! More than two thousand miles of loosely held
+ground. And we're so damnably organized, man! Look here!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He strode to the huge map which covered entirely one wall of the
+little room and ran his forefinger down the long red line, signifying
+the American front, which stretched crookedly from the Canadian border
+to the Gulf of California. Parallel to it was another line, of
+black--the United Slavs.
+
+"It's so damned easy," Colonel Douglas said, "for a spy to slip over."
+He sighed again. "I fought in the scrap of 1917 as a kid of twenty; it
+was different then. But this is 1938, and it's a scientific war we're
+trying to fight." He sat down in his swivel chair. "How--how did they
+wipe you out to-day?"
+
+"That blasted disintegrating flame again," Lance told him swiftly.
+"It's obvious, Colonel: how did the Slavs know we were going to raid
+that comparatively unimportant base of theirs at such and such a time?
+They had the flame shooters all ready for us--and at a place where
+they've never had them before! We came up at twenty-five thousand
+feet, dropped down in a full power dive, and"--he gestured
+widely--"biff! The flames caught us neatly at the regulation thousand
+feet. They got thirteen men. Only two got away, Praed and myself."
+His keen eyes were inquiring, and the colonel interpreted their look
+correctly.
+
+"Praed," he murmured. "Yes, I saw him come back, by himself. He said
+you were following. Two of his motors were shot. He seems to bear a
+charmed life, doesn't he?"
+
+Lance nodded. He didn't like to hint at the thought he had in mind. It
+seemed a cowardly, stab-in-the-back thing to do. Yet it was duty, and
+there was no questioning duty.
+
+"I've never seen Praed shoot down an enemy plane," he said slowly.
+"This is the fifth time we've been ambushed--and Praed's never been
+caught. Somehow, he's always seemed to be aware of what was coming."
+
+"You mean--?" the colonel questioned.
+
+Lance shook his head. "I don't want to commit myself, Colonel Douglas,
+but--I'm suggesting that we--well--keep our eyes peeled, and perhaps
+watch certain members of the outfit more closely."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Douglas rose as his orderly, Ranth, came into the room. "Find
+Lieutenant Praed for me," the colonel ordered crisply. Then, turning
+to Lance, he said: "You'd better knock off a few hours' sleep. You are
+worn out."
+
+Lance watched the orderly, Ranth, salute and leave. Ranth was heavy,
+thick-built, with closely set eyes. The young squadron leader was
+suddenly conscious that he was, as the colonel said, worn out; his
+limbs seemed leaden, his eyelids heavy. "I think you're right, sir,"
+he murmured, and walked out onto the field.
+
+Seeing Praed's machine drawn up with the overall-clad figure of a
+mechanic fussing at its motors, he wandered over to survey it. The
+scout was an exact replica of his, a model of the famous Goshawk type.
+It was all motor--everything being sacrificed to speed. On either side
+of the stubby brow of the fuselage, which held the death-dealing
+battery of three machine-guns, were set the four Rahl-Diesel motors,
+back to back. The pilot's tiny enclosed cockpit was thus surrounded by
+engines. In the V-shaped, smooth-lined wings were the two helicopter
+props; further back, inside the steel-sheathed, bullet-like fuselage,
+the radio outfit and fuel tanks. The craft's rounded belly covered the
+gas bomb compartment.
+
+The mechanic was a little cockney Englishman, a fugitive, like all his
+countrymen, from the horror which had stricken England suddenly and
+left her wallowing in her life blood. He looked up at Lance, and a
+smile broke forth on his wizened, sharp little face.
+
+"It's got me beat, sir," he said in his curious, twanging voice.
+"Lieutenant Praed, 'e sez to me, 'Somethin' wrong with two of me
+motors,' 'e sez. 'They quit on me quite sudden like. Look 'em over,
+will you?' 'e sez. So I been lookin' 'em over. But they ain't nothin'
+wrong with the bloody things, sir--nothin' at all!"
+
+"It does seem funny, doesn't it, Wells?" Lance said levelly. He'd
+known it all along. Praed was a quitter--a yellow-belly--besides
+being--But he stopped there. He had no definite proof. It was unjust
+to accuse a man of _that_ without definite, positive proof.
+
+The little mechanic muttered some mysterious cockney curse, and then
+said, in an admiring tone:
+
+"'Ow many of the swines' planes 'ave you shot down now, sir?"
+
+"About twenty, I think," Lance told him gruffly. The cockney shot his
+breath out with a whistle.
+
+"Cripes! You'll be up to that there Captain Hay soon if you keeps it
+up, sir!"
+
+Lance laughed. Hay, the almost legendary hero of the American Air
+Force--who had shot down, so latest rumors said, fifty Slav
+planes--was far above him. "I'll never reach Hay's record, Wells. I'll
+be doing pretty well if I bag half as many!" Then, seeing Ranth, the
+orderly, followed by Praed, he strode quickly away and came face to
+face with the latter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a moment the two men eyed each other, a taut silence between them.
+Praed's thin, sun-blackened countenance was immovable, masklike. His
+blue-green eyes met Lance's steadily. Finally Lance snorted and burst
+out:
+
+"Why the hell did you run away, Praed? Scared stiff?"
+
+Praed's low voice, devoid of all trace of emotion, asked: "What makes
+you think I was scared, Lance?"
+
+"You know damn well what makes me think it! That lousy crack about
+your motors being shot!"
+
+"Two of my motors were limping."
+
+Lance gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Ask Wells about that, why don't you?
+He's got a few ideas on the subject."
+
+Praed repeated: "Two of my motors were limping," and abruptly he
+turned away, leaving Lance fuming, and went into Colonel Douglas'
+office.
+
+What would Douglas say to him? Accuse him outright of his suspicions?
+Put him under arrest as a spy? But he couldn't do that: there was,
+after all, no proof. Lance swore to himself; then, feeling a wave of
+weariness surge over him, went to the shack he was quartered in,
+kicked off his battered boots, stripped away his Sam Browne, and flung
+his lean body out on the hard, gray-sheeted cot. Seconds later he was
+lost in the sleep that comes to the physically exhausted. The
+desperate situation America was in, the whole savage war--everything,
+faded from his mind.
+
+But to right and left of that cot stretched others--empty. The brave
+squadron Lance had led into the blue sky that morning now lay charred
+skeletons around the flame-throwers that had struck them down.
+
+And in a dozen other aircraft bases behind the hard pressed lines were
+other empty cots. Time and time again the Slav planes shot down two to
+the Americans' one; time and time again the treacherous
+disintegrating flames--the weapon which baffled America's
+scientists--had struck down whole squadrons that had been lured into
+traps, even as Lance's had been lured.
+
+And even the Slav forces pushed forward....
+
+
+PART II
+
+"You're wanted by Colonel Douglas, sir."
+
+Lance felt a hand jarring his shoulder; he turned sleepily over,
+yawned, and stared up into the dark, full-cheeked face of Ranth, the
+orderly.
+
+"Huh?"
+
+"Colonel Douglas wants you," repeated Ranth. "It's five o'clock, sir."
+
+Wearily Lance pulled on his boots and adjusted the military belt. The
+night was hot and sticky; somewhere, miles to the rear of the base,
+the batteries of long-distance guns were beginning their nightly
+serenade. Lance followed the orderly's broad, chunky back to the
+colonel's office.
+
+The colonel gazed up with tired eyes from the welter of maps on his
+desk.
+
+"Lance," he said, "I'm changing the routine of the night patrol. A
+fresh batch of youngsters came in this afternoon to fill the empty
+files; two dozen new planes arrived by transport, too. I'm sending ten
+of them over for the night patrol; Stephens will take your place. I've
+got another errand for you--and Praed."
+
+Lance was conscious that Ranth was standing quietly behind the
+colonel's chair. Douglas ordered him to attend to some errand and the
+orderly left.
+
+"I had an interview with Praed," the colonel went on. "I didn't
+exactly accuse him of anything definite, but I think I threw a bit of
+a scare into him. To-night we'll give him the acid test.
+
+"You and he will fly over to-night to investigate Hill 333. There have
+been rumors that the Slavs are massing there, and we want positive
+information. There's sure to be a fight. Watch Praed carefully. If he
+steers clear of any scrapping, well have enough to court-martial him
+on. Understand?"
+
+Lance nodded.
+
+"Right. It's a dangerous errand, Lance, but I'm confident you'll come
+through, as always. There's no one else who could handle the job. God,
+man, you're getting close to Hay's record! You'll be the top-notcher
+of the service soon!"
+
+The young man laughed briefly. "No danger of that. When do we take
+off, sir?"
+
+Douglas consulted his watch. "Seven-fifteen. Come and get the dope
+from these maps. Hill 333's rather difficult to find."
+
+"Anything been happening at the front, sir?"
+
+The colonel passed both fine-fingered hands over his lined face. He
+said quietly: "Yes. The Slavs took twenty-five miles from us down in
+the lower sector. Just wiped our boys out. Those damnable
+flame-throwers and bullet-proof tanks, supported by God knows how many
+hundreds of planes. It's hell, Lance! Headquarters thinks they're
+going to unleash a general attack all along the line in the next few
+days. And our resources--well, our back's against the wall. We're
+coming to death grips, man."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seven-fifteen....
+
+Lance pressed the starting button. His four motors choked, sputtered,
+then burst into a sweet, full-throated roar. He glanced over at
+Praed's plane, spun the small helicopter props over and pushed down
+the accelerator. The plane quivered, stuck its snout up and leaped
+like an arrow into the clean, darkening air. Lance gunned it to ten
+thousand feet, Praed following him neatly. Praed was a good pilot, no
+doubt about that. The two fighting machines hung for a second side by
+side; Lance eased off his helicopters and streaked away into the gloom
+at a breath-taking five hundred.
+
+"I hope," muttered Colonel Douglas as the two tiny scouts sped from
+sight, "that everything goes smoothly. They're the men to do it,
+anyway. No better pilots in the whole service."
+
+"Wot abaht that there Captain Hay, sir?" put in Wells, the mechanic,
+standing nearby. Colonel Douglas smiled.
+
+"Oh, of course!" he amended. "I'd forgotten Hay!"
+
+Once more they were anticipated! Lance, at thirty thousand feet--the
+Rahl-Diesels, with their perfected superchargers, were easily capable
+of a ceiling of sixty--had hovered above the position of Hill 333,
+pulled on his gas-mask and said through the microphone to Praed:
+
+"Power dive to three thousand feet. Release your flares and take in
+all you can before they send up planes. We'll take 'em by surprise,
+but there's bound to be a fight. Got it?"
+
+The steady reply came back: "Okay."
+
+Whereat Lance set his teeth in his customary fighting grin, jockied up
+his ammunition belts, glanced at the flare-parachutes folded alongside
+the cabin and plunged the scout in a dive that tipped six hundred and
+fifty miles and threatened to crack the speed dial.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But surprise? Nothing doing! Like angry hornets five Slav planes
+pounced on them at ten thousand feet. They'd been waiting there! Lance
+cursed savagely. He flung off his flares, Immelmanned up, and in less
+than two seconds had sent one Slav shrieking to the ground in flames.
+For the moment forgetting Praed, Lance followed after his flares,
+three Slavs attempting to sight their guns on the twisting, writhing,
+corkscrewing body of his Goshawk. He knew there were disintegrating
+flame-throwers below, but gambled on their not shooting because of the
+enemy scouts diving with him.
+
+Flattening out at perhaps a thousand feet, Lance threw a rapid stare
+at the bulk of Hill 333. He drew his breath in sharply.
+
+Lit dazzlingly by the bleaching white of the slow-floating flares,
+huge rows of the dreaded Slav tanks were clustered all around the
+hill!
+
+As he looked, ten more Slav planes came soaring up from the ground.
+This was too hot! The thought of Praed stabbed through Lance's
+whirling brain; he pulled the scout around, doubled over the three
+closing in on his tail, and belched lead for an instant at one he'd
+caught off guard. It collapsed like a punctured paper bag. Lance
+grinned and bounded to the upper regions. The two other Slavs let the
+crazy Yank go for the instant, joining forces with the ten brothers
+coming to help them out.
+
+Lance, again at ten thousand, looked for Praed. Far above, he glimpsed
+two planes, circling and diving. Praed seemed to be fighting, at any
+rate! As he watched, the two scouts catapulted still higher; became
+tiny, almost imperceptible dots, visible only in the reflected light
+of the flares. Then Lance felt a shaft of ice along his spine.
+
+The two planes had practically hugged each other for a second. Then
+one of them fell away, somersaulted, tumbled down wildly--out of
+control.
+
+It passed Lance like a falling rock.
+
+And it was Praed's scout!
+
+"My God!" muttered Lance. "He's been shot down!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next moment the twelve Slavs were on him like a hurricane. Motors
+roaring, Lance stood them off--flinging a burst of lead here, dropping
+out of range here, looping, catapulting, zooming--fazing them with
+every trick he knew. A dozen times he sensed the zinging wrath of
+storms of bullets, a dozen times he escaped death by the breadth of a
+hair. Not for nothing was he called one of the best pilots in the
+service, second only to Hay.
+
+He bagged another of the Slavs, and began to think of getting away.
+Praed had proved himself, but had been killed in doing so. He's got
+the dope on Hill 333. Now for the getaway.
+
+As he whirled, another Slav plane--the one that had got Praed--dove
+down from above. And, in the last second of the ghostly light of the
+flares, Lance's bewildered eyes saw the face of the man inside it.
+
+_That face was Praed's!_
+
+Praed, inside an enemy scout! Praed firing at him! Praed, not dead!
+
+Lance was dumbfounded. He almost died, just then, for he felt his
+senses stagger, and relaxed his maneuvering. Praed! What--how--He
+couldn't begin to reckon it out.
+
+If the flares hadn't died at that instant, Lance must have been shot
+down. Luckily, they expired; pitch darkness washed over everything.
+The lights on the Slav planes switched on, their prying beams
+fingering the sky for Lance's plane. But Lance was somewhat himself
+again. He jammed the accelerator down, dove headlong, flattened out
+and streaked for home. The speed of the Goshawk snatched him
+faithfully from the jaws of the Slavs. He left then milling behind.
+Left Praed with them!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Colonel Douglas was waiting for him. Lance's face must have been a
+study, for the elder man laughed shortly. "You need a drink!" he
+decided, and poured out a stiff tot of rum. Lance downed it with a
+nervous gulp and sprawled in a chair, the glass held weakly in
+quivering fingers.
+
+Dead silence brooded over the whole base. Even the muttering guns were
+still. One green-shaded light threw the maps on Douglas' desk into
+glaring prominence; besides that, there was no illumination anywhere
+in the 'drome. Lance knew he had a thumping headache and that his eyes
+were lumps of pain. The glass fell from his hand and crashed on the
+floor. It seemed to stir the young captain, for at last he looked up
+and met the colonel's inquiring gaze.
+
+"Well?" The colonel was terse.
+
+"I saw Praed shot down," Lance mumbled, as if to himself, "and then I
+saw him--"
+
+"Wait!" Douglas strode rapidly to the door which led to the other
+rooms of the building. After glancing to right and left, with an
+explanatory "Walls sometimes have ears, you know!" he locked the door
+carefully again, came back, and said:
+
+"Talk in a whisper! How about Hill 333?"
+
+"Tanks massed there," Lance said slowly. "Yeh, I saw that, all right.
+They must be intending an attack on that sector. But--but--Praed--"
+
+"What happened?"
+
+Lance told him of the scrap, how Praed's plane had apparently rubbed
+wings with a Slav and then tumbled down, out of control. He concluded:
+"I figured that Praed was all right, that he'd proved himself, that he
+wasn't a spy, as we'd thought. _But the next moment I saw him in the
+Slav plane that had bagged his!"_
+
+His wondering eyes sought the colonel's lean face. Lance expected to
+see it express amazement, incredulity. It didn't, though. He laughed!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+While Lance gaped, the older man went to the delicate machinery of the
+radiophone in one corner of the trim office. He clasped the earphones
+over his head, and spoke into the mike: "Headquarters, Air Force,
+Washington, Douglas, Base 5, speaking."
+
+A tense moment passed while his radio call was put through. Presently
+a green light flashed on the board. Douglas said swiftly:
+"Headquarters? Base 5, Colonel Douglas. Tanks massed around Hill 333;
+enemy evidently contemplates full attack on corresponding sector of
+our line. They know a scout of ours observed it, however; perhaps that
+will induce them to change their plans. This next is extremely
+important: _The first step of the Torpedo Plan has been successful!"_
+
+For awhile he listened intently, replying with short-clipped
+affirmatives. Then he hung the headphones up and turned to the
+bewildered Lance. Colonel Douglas laughed again and rubbed his hands
+exultantly.
+
+"What the hell--" Lance began. The other pulled out a drawer of his
+desk and took from it a small placard.
+
+"Do you recognize the photo?" he asked smilingly.
+
+Lance looked at it. It was the picture of a man in the uniform of a
+captain of the Air Force, a row of battle ribbons on his straight,
+khaki-clad chest. But it was the figure's face that Lance stared at.
+
+"Sure," he said finally. "It's a picture of Praed. But what--"
+
+"Not Praed," corrected the colonel. "Not Praed. Captain Basil Hay."
+
+
+PART III
+
+"Good Lord!" Lance exclaimed without knowing he did so. Praed--Hay!
+The same man! Then that was the secret; that explained things! Hay,
+the hero of the force!
+
+"You're entitled to a few explanations," Douglas said. "I'll give you
+the core of the whole scheme. There's no need to tell you that it must
+be guarded with your life." He drew his chair closer to Lance's.
+
+"Yes, it's true. The man you knew as Praed in reality is Captain Hay.
+You see, Lance, headquarters was taking no chances with what I just
+called the Torpedo Plan. Every move had to be conducted with the
+utmost secrecy. Had to be! For the Torpedo Plan is, in some ways,
+America's last hope.
+
+"Our base, No. 5, was chosen as the center of activity, the base from
+which the steps paving the way for the plan would be taken. The two
+best pilots in the service were needed. You and Hay were chosen.
+
+"It was decided it would be best to mask Hay's real identity. So,
+officially, he was sent to the hospital; in reality he came here,
+under the name of Praed. Why? Because there's a spy somewhere--we
+don't seem to be able to track him; he's infernally clever--and if the
+famous Captain Hay was switched to Base 5, putting the two best
+pilots in the service together, that spy'd know something was in the
+air. Understand?"
+
+Lance nodded dumbly. A great light was beginning to shower him.
+
+"To more completely mask our true purpose," the colonel continued,
+"Hay was instructed to make it appear as if he were a spy. And it was
+a damned hard job! The real spy, whoever he is, and wherever he is,
+would thus be additionally fooled; for all he'd know, the Slavs might
+have sent another over to back him up. That's why Hay never shot down
+an enemy plane. Says something about his skill as a pilot, doesn't it?
+Never able to defend himself, save by maneuvering. He's a great
+flyer!"
+
+Lance could only nod dumbly again.
+
+"After a couple of weeks at this base," Douglas went on, "Hay was to
+cross the lines one night with you accompanying him. You,
+unintentionally, would thus occupy the enemy planes while Hay attended
+to the real business of the evening. And you did splendidly!"
+
+"The real business?" Lance questioned. "What the devil was that? I
+thought the real business was to get the dope on Hill 333."
+
+"So it was--partially. But also to take the first step of the Torpedo
+Plan, which was for Hay to switch over to a Slav plane."
+
+_"What?"_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The colonel repeated his statement, somewhat dryly. Lance's square jaw
+dropped abruptly. "But--but--" he exclaimed, "how the devil could he
+do that?"
+
+Colonel Douglas grinned.
+
+"By a very neat contraption from the brain of one of our most valuable
+scientists," he explained. "Hay's scout was specially fitted up before
+you left; while you were sleeping, in fact. Two experts from
+Washington arrived with that batch of new recruits this afternoon. A
+tiny sliding door was cut in the fuselage of the scout and a sort of
+folding ladder put inside. It was motivated by some rather complex
+spring-work; but the really ingenious thing about it was the powerful
+electro-magnet at its base.
+
+"It's rather over my head," he smiled. "I'm a plain fighting man, and
+sometimes it seems that scientists and not fighting men are going to
+win this war.... But, at any rate, it worked like this:
+
+"Hay lures, or maneuvers, a Slav plane away from its fellows, and
+while you're down below entertaining the others, flies wing to wing
+with it. He touches the spring of his ladder and it shoots out,
+powerfully magnetized, and clamps onto the steel fuselage of the Slav.
+The automatic control keeps Hay's scout steady, and the ladder is so
+highly attractive that the Slav simply can't get away. Hay crosses the
+gulf, taking with him the cord which controls the electro-magnet. He
+forces his way into the Slav, shoots down its pilot, releases the pull
+of the magnet, and--there you are! Our best pilot in possession of a
+Slav plane, and clad in a Slav officer's uniform! Do you get the idea
+now?"
+
+Lance strove for appropriate words. "Gee!" he spluttered. "It's--it's
+wonderful! And to think I tried to start a fight with Hay! I wish I'd
+known before. But I suppose," he added, "it was best to let not even
+me in on it, to keep it absolutely secret."
+
+"Exactly!"
+
+"And now what's Hay's mission?" Lance asked eagerly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Colonel Douglas' face became sober. "A damnably dangerous one, and a
+mighty desperate one. As I said, the Torpedo Plan, which Hay is
+striving to carry out, seems to be America's last chance. We're
+holding the United Slavs, but only just. We simply can't break their
+line or make any headway against them; and when they do unleash their
+big push, there's nothing to stop them! So we're gambling everything
+on this slim hope.
+
+"American science," he continued, "has perfected a weapon which is
+called the 'flying torpedo.' It's a ghastly thing, too. Damn it, I
+actually feel sorry for the poor devils it bursts on! It's a sort of
+riposte to their disintegrating flame.
+
+"Picture a huge tanklike affair of steel, one hundred feet long.
+Picture a few dozen of them! Picture them crammed to overflowing with
+tons of glyco-scarzite, the most destructive explosive the mind of man
+has yet conceived. An explosive that can't be hurled in a shell and
+can't be dropped in a bomb from a plane. A pound or so of it, man,
+lays waste a square mile of anything! Even our scientists are a bit
+afraid of it. They've been trying to think up a way of unleashing it
+at the Slavs. And these flying torpedoes seem to be the answer.
+
+"The torpedoes are purely mechanical. Therefore, they can soar to any
+height whatsoever. Twenty, thirty, even forty miles. All right. Now,
+picture a dozen or so of these torpedoes soaring over the most
+important Slav bases and headquarters, thirty miles above the earth,
+at night, of course, and absolutely invisible to the most powerful
+search-rays. They fly without the slightest sounds. Get that? Well,
+when this squadron of awful death arrives at the exact point over the
+place to be demolished, the motive force switches off and down they
+crash. Imagine what will happen when they collide with the ground!"
+Douglas, with Lance's tense eyes on him, struck a clenched fist into
+an open palm.
+
+"Tons of glyco-scarzite, Lance! Unleashed, without warning, from miles
+above! Thirty of these torpedoes, each a hundred feet long, dropping
+down on the very heart of the Slav invasion! Killing, blowing to bits,
+rather, every living thing, every fortification, every tree, every
+tank, every gun, every flame thrower, every plane in a radius of
+hundreds of miles!"
+
+"God!" came from Lance's numb lips. "God!"
+
+"_But_"--and the colonel held up a straight forefinger--"these
+torpedoes must be guided from the place they raid!"
+
+Into the silence Lance whispered: "And that--that is Hay's job?"
+
+"That," Douglas confirmed levelly, "is Hay's job--and yours."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Their eyes met; held. And then Lance's clean young face smiled.
+
+"Thank God, sir," he cried, "that I'm to help strike the blow that'll
+free our country!"
+
+Colonel Douglas answered his smile with a smile. "Lance," he said,
+"it's because Washington has put this job into Hay's and your hands
+that I know--_I know_--it will succeed."
+
+"It will!"
+
+Douglas lowered his voice again. "This is why those flying torpedoes
+must be guided from the Slav's innermost base.
+
+"In the first place, they fly too high for an accompanying plane to
+guide them. In the second, the power that releases them to hurtle
+downwards must come from the enemy base itself, to permit of no
+possible error. This must not fail!"
+
+"But," put in Lance, "how do the torpedoes fly? What motivates them?"
+
+"A closely guarded secret, of course," he was told. "I merely possess
+a slight comprehension of it. I know that it is an adaptation of that
+discovery of Professor Singe, two years ago--cosmic attraction.
+Eventually, perhaps, it will permit interplanetary travel. This use of
+it is simply the beginning. But it is to America's everlasting glory
+that a scientist of hers developed it.
+
+"You know how a sliver of wood is propelled by the ripples of a pond?
+Vibrations of the water, really. Well, evidently there are somewhat
+similar vibrations in the ether, cosmic force. Each one of these
+flying torpedoes contains a highly expensive, intricate mechanism
+which transforms this invisible vibration-power into material
+propulsion. The mechanism is adjusted to propel the torpedo at such an
+altitude in such a direction. We possess no means of setting the
+machines to _stop_ at a certain place and so tumble earthwards. That's
+where you and Hay come in.
+
+"Hay is now, with forged documents, passing himself off as a regular
+Slav pilot. He speaks the tongue. Two nights from now, you, Lance,
+keep a rendezvous with Hay at an isolated ranch in the Lake Tahoe
+country--the Sola Ranch, where we staged that big fight a few months
+back."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lance nodded.
+
+"In your plane is an instrument which is the kernel of the scheme. It
+arrives here to-morrow. It's a device which shoots an invisible beam
+fifty miles into the air, a negative beam, in sympathy with the
+machinery on the torpedoes. Hay sets this device near the Slav
+headquarters. The torpedo squadron takes off from a few hundred miles
+behind here, flying in the direction of the heart of the Slav forces.
+When they run into the beam, their motive power is nullified, and down
+they fall. Crash! The Slavs are wiped out. Our troops charge forward
+in a grand attack; the Slavs, with no armament, no reinforcing troops,
+no supply of tanks and flame throwers, crumple. The invasion of
+America is put to an end!"
+
+Lance rose. His face was alight, his eyes burning with strong,
+unquenchable fire.
+
+"It's great, sir, great! It can't fail! By God, if it takes every last
+drop of my blood, I'll help Hay put this through!"
+
+Colonel Douglas extended his right hand and Lance's met it in a firm
+shake. In the thick silence they stood thus for some minutes. Then,
+without moving so much as a cheek muscle, the colonel whispered, his
+eyes tense:
+
+"_The door! Fling it open! I think someone's been listening!_"
+
+Lance switched his alarmed gaze to it. His muscles went taut. The next
+moment he had leaped half across the room, jammed back the lock, and
+ripped the door wide.
+
+At the other end of the dim passageway he glimpsed a scurrying figure!
+
+Lance sprang after it with a shout to Douglas. Tearing out his
+automatic, he flung a burst of lead at the figure, but that instant it
+wheeled and sped from sight down another passage. And when Lance got
+there, no one was in sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For awhile he probed around, desperately, but could find no sign of
+anything. The base slept. Sorely troubled, he returned to find the
+colonel just coming back from an equally barren search:
+
+"Don't think he heard much," said Douglas grimly. "It must have been
+that damned spy who's been getting information of our movements. I'll
+have the guards redoubled to prevent him from getting anything
+through." He smiled at sight of Lance's anxious face. "No need for too
+much worry, Lance! He couldn't have heard much--the walls are
+sound-proof and the door fairly tight. Now, you go and rip off some
+sleep! You need it! No more work for you till Wednesday night--you're
+too important!"
+
+Sleep! Lance only wished he could. But the thrill of what he'd just
+heard was too fresh, too new; the blood pumped surgingly through his
+veins; his brain whirled with the thought of the glorious enterprise
+he and Hay were aiding so vitally.
+
+Then, too, the night was humid and sweaty. For a while Lance lay on
+his cot, other sleeping figures to left and right of him, but his own
+eyes simply would not stay closed. Finally, after perhaps an hour of
+trying to doze off, he arose and, clad only in breeches and
+undershirt, wandered outside again with a cigarette glowing in his
+mouth.
+
+The war might not have been, the night was so silent. Lance strolled
+lazily around the plane hangars, revelling in what little breeze there
+was. He seemed to be the only living thing abroad in the night.
+
+Then, suddenly, he flung down his cigarette and ground the butt out
+quickly. For he saw he was not the only living thing abroad in the
+night. Sliding rapidly away from the end hangar was a dark form!
+
+Lance crouched instinctively and crept forward. Who was the other
+wanderer? Not a sentry: they paced a regular beat closer to Douglas'
+office. Not another, who, like himself, could not sleep and had sought
+the open. This figure was going somewhere! It had a definite object in
+mind!
+
+Sheltering himself behind the hangars' bulk, Lance advanced as
+stealthily as he could. Coming to the end one, he peered round its
+blunt corner. Fifty yards ahead, crossing a stubbly stretch of open
+ground, the mysterious prowler hurried onward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night was dark, the moon troubled by ragged bursts of listless,
+heavy clouds. Lance bent almost double and left the shelter of the
+black hangar. Feeling his way carefully, he followed the other.
+
+Was this the unknown spy? The spy, going to transmit the news he had
+overheard?
+
+Lance muttered a curse. He had no weapon with him; the spy, if he were
+a spy, would certainly be armed. But that didn't matter; it was merely
+unfortunate. He must track the other down, at all cost.
+
+For some minutes he crept on in this manner. The other kept hurrying
+forward. Lance noted a clump of brush far ahead; the figure was
+evidently making for this. And sure enough, as if acting directly on
+Lance's thought, the dark form entered the patch of growth--and did
+not come out on the other side.
+
+Lance broke into a trot, eyes wary and alert for sign of his prey. At
+any second he might be greeted by a salvo of bullets, and every fiber
+of his lean body was taut.
+
+As he approached the clump of brush he dropped to the ground, and came
+finally to it on his belly. From a distance of about ten feet, he rose
+and charged.
+
+Expecting each moment to hear the spit of a revolver, he was more
+alarmed by what actually did greet him.
+
+Nothing. The patch of brush was empty!
+
+"Well I'll be damned!" Lance murmured. "Where did he get to?"
+
+He gazed around, bewildered. The growth of bush was about ten feet
+wide. On either side the flat Nevada plain stretched away--empty. No
+figure was visible.
+
+Lance was utterly baffled. The fellow had vanished as if by magic.
+Flown away into thin air!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The young captain stood quite still, listening, probing his puzzled
+brain.
+
+Then, like a cat, he dropped to the ground again, and pressed an ear
+to it. For his ears had caught a tiny betraying hum.
+
+A hum! There was a machine of some type near him. He listened
+intently. The hum came from the ground on which he lay. There had to
+be a trap-door.
+
+Lance's fingers scrabbled around, and presently found what they looked
+for.
+
+He seized the ring which enabled one to pull the trap-door back, and
+was just about to pull when he heard, from below, a voice speaking in
+Russian. It was, then, the spy!
+
+Lance grasped the ring anew, and, exerting all his strength, hauled
+the trap-door back.
+
+A narrow passageway was revealed, lit by a lamp. The hum burst with
+doubled force on his ears. He plunged down, fists clenched, and half
+tumbled into a tiny room gouged from the soil.
+
+At one end was a mass of machinery, and a microphone hung suspended
+before it. And speaking into the microphone was the heavy-set form of
+a man in American uniform, his back to Lance. As the latter charged
+down, he rose with an alarmed shout, and wheeled around.
+
+"My God!" breathed Lance.
+
+It was Ranth, Colonel Douglas' orderly!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ranth!
+
+His dark face flushed with fury, he came leaping from his seat. The
+wicked little revolver hung at his belt sprang out, but Lance's right
+fist shot forward, knocked Ranth's hand high and sent the gun
+clattering to the ground. Then, for a moment, they faced each other,
+the hum of the radiophone droning an ominous accompaniment.
+
+"You!" Lance muttered. "So you were the spy!"
+
+Ranth answered him with a choked oath and leaped forward again.
+
+There were no niceties to that combat. It was a matter of life and
+death, and each knew it. Ranth would kill him, Lance knew, if he
+possibly could; and he, he had to kill or capture Ranth. Otherwise the
+news of the Torpedo Plan would go through, Ranth would return to the
+base, and the secret of the hidden radio never be known. Another would
+be put in Lance's place; and when Hay kept his rendezvous at Sola
+Ranch....
+
+He had to win.
+
+No effort was made at defense, for those first few furious minutes. A
+veritable fusillade of hurtling fists stormed through the air. They
+each gave and took equally. Then Ranth's heavy shoulders bunched;
+cunningly he feinted, then, whirling, swung a vicious right hand smash
+to Lance's chin.
+
+Lance reeled, fell, seeing Ranth's hate-contorted visage dance queerly
+in the close air before him. The orderly clutched for his revolver,
+and Lance bounded up as if spring-impelled, nailed the other with two
+lightninglike jabs and unleashed all his strength in an uppercut
+which sprawled Ranth in a limp, quivering heap.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Panting, Lance surveyed him, then turned to get the gun. He felt the
+shock of thudding flesh in his legs, and fell again with Ranth
+scrambling on top of him. Steel-ribbed hands pounced on his throat,
+gouged savagely, while the man above grunted thick curses from his
+slavering mouth. Lance struggled fiercely; saw a curtain of black rush
+down. Desperately he hooked a booted leg up, craned it over Ranth's
+back, tugged. The terrible fingers loosened. Lance shook them off,
+rolled the other over and leaped once more to his feet, right hand
+clenched and ready.
+
+Ranth staggered up. The young man measured him, pivoted, and smashed
+his beefy jaw with a clean swing that had every ounce of Lance's hard
+young body behind it.
+
+The orderly shot back as if struck by a locomotive. He crashed into
+the radiophone, splintered the delicate instruments and slumped, eyes
+glazed, to the ground.
+
+He was out. Dead out.
+
+But how much had he got through on the radiophone before being
+stopped?
+
+Had he told where the rendezvous, was to be? Told the time and place,
+and warned the Slavs to look for Hay?
+
+Lance sighed, and was conscious that his left eye was rapidly closing,
+that a lip was split and his whole body sore. He slung Ranth over his
+shoulders and trudged wearily back to the base.
+
+He told his story to Colonel Douglas' amazed ears. Ranth, come back to
+life, was slapped in handcuffs, and for some time the colonel put him
+through a stern inquisition.
+
+But his lips were sealed. He would not divulge how much he had
+succeeded in passing on to the Slavs.
+
+"A brave man," Douglas observed grimly when Ranth was carried off to
+the brig, "but it's death for him, the same as it would be death for
+Hay were he caught."
+
+"I don't think he had a chance to get much across, sir," Lance said.
+"I was right on him almost as soon as he got there. You won't let this
+cancel our rendezvous?"
+
+Douglas' thin lips smiled narrowly. "No. You'll be taking a greater
+chance, Lance, but we must gamble on how much the Slavs know. You're
+game, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wednesday night came. Thunderstorms muttered to each other on the
+lowering horizons; gusts of fierce, wind-driven rain slanted down on
+the dripping base; occasionally a crooked finger of lightning probed
+the black sky and lit the whole sopping countryside with a searing,
+flashing glare.
+
+The night patrol had taken off. A single plane, wet and gleaming under
+the sobbing heavens, stood on the tarmac, two heavily coated figures
+before it. Presently three more figures, carrying some bulky black
+object carefully between them, emerged from one of the buildings.
+Tenderly they placed this object in the lone plane, which had been
+stripped of radio outfit and gas bomb compartment to provide room.
+Then the two original figures were left alone once more before the
+fighting machine. Far to the rear, the heavy American guns barked in
+their regular nightly bombardment.
+
+"A good night for it," Colonel Douglas, scanning the sky, said, "and
+also a bad one. If only that damned lightning would stop!"
+
+Lance, pulling on thick gloves, did not reply. The colonel consulted
+his watch.
+
+"What time do you make it?" he asked.
+
+"Exactly eight," the other answered.
+
+"Right. At eight-six, you leave. At nine, on the dot, you meet Hay at
+Sola Ranch. At nine-ten, the torpedoes take off. At quarter to ten,
+they arrive over their destination--San Francisco and the surrounding
+territory. And quarter to ten, if things go correctly--which they
+must!--is the minute that ends the Slavish invasion of America. At ten
+minutes to ten, five minutes after the torpedoes strike, our troops
+charge forward in general attack. God be with you, Lance! The fate of
+America is resting on your shoulders to-night, remember!"
+
+"I'm remembering."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Colonel Douglas looked at the young man's grim, set face, looked at
+his lithe, clean-limbed figure and his steady black eyes which burned
+with a purposeful fire. And the colonel smiled.
+
+"We'll win!" he said.
+
+An orderly sped from his office, saluted, and rapped crisply:
+
+"Order just received from Washington, sir, to proceed."
+
+Lance clasped Douglas' hand, and leaped into the snug, enclosed
+cockpit. The four motors bellowed as the thin-sprayed oil cascaded to
+them. The helicopter props spun around.
+
+"Go to it, kid!" cried Douglas. "Spy or no spy, you're coming out on
+top! And give Hay a last handshake for me!"
+
+And he swung to the salute.
+
+Lance extended his hand. Then he gave his ship the gun, and the tiny,
+streamlined scout teetered, roared, and rose with a scream into the
+dripping darkness high above.
+
+The Torpedo Plan had started.
+
+
+PART IV
+
+Lance hung for a moment at one thousand feet. A crack of lightning lit
+the base below for a second, and he perceived the colonel's straight
+figure with hand outstretched. Lance grinned, and gunned to forty
+thousand--an easy flying height, with his superchargers pumping and
+air-rectifiers normalizing the enclosed pilot's seat.
+
+"But what," he wondered, as he stopped the helicopters, "did he mean
+by 'give a _last_ handshake'?"
+
+He was soon to find out.
+
+Behind him, in the fuselage, nestled the weird cluster of machinery
+which was the Singe beacon. It certainly did not look imposing--a mass
+of spidery tubes mazing round a bulky black box, which was, Lance
+guessed, some new type of generator. Out of the top of the device
+sprouted a funnel-like horn, from which, on the adjustment of the
+beacon's control studs, shot the nullifying ray. Lance could not
+suppress a shiver as he thought of the earth-shaking cataclysm that
+ray would conjure from the infinitely high heavens.
+
+At forty thousand feet he was above the storm clouds, whose pitchy,
+vapor-drenched blackness effectively blanked out all sign of the
+earth. He might have been flying in outer space. Keeping a careful eye
+on his instruments, he set a course for Sola Ranch. He kept his speed
+around three hundred, wishing to meet Hay exactly at nine.
+
+But--would Hay be there?
+
+How much did the Slavs know? How much had Ranth got through before he
+stopped him?
+
+A frown creased his brow. It was best not to puzzle over that
+question. Best just to go ahead, and keep going.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At about three minutes to nine he set the plane's nose down through
+veils of clammy cloud. This was mountainous country, sparsely
+patrolled by Slav ships. Lance hovered cautiously over the firred
+mountain tops, getting his directions, shooting wary eyes through the
+magnifying mirrors in search of enemy scouts. He saw none. Satisfied,
+he cut the Rahl-Diesels, gunned the helicopter props and dropped
+lightly down on the stubbly field of Sola Ranch.
+
+To left and right loomed the dim outlines of the lonely mountains.
+Before the war, the owner of Sola Ranch had grown apples; this field
+had housed a few horses. It made a perfect meeting place--secluded,
+misty with the clinging mountain vapors, far apart from the war.
+
+Lance felt like a prowling werewolf there, waiting for its ghostly
+mate.
+
+Rain was still splattering in desultory bursts, but distance muted the
+rumbling salvos' of thunder. His watch told him it was one minute to
+nine.
+
+Now--what?
+
+Hay, or a swooping squadron of Slav planes?
+
+Lance stepped out of the cockpit into the rain, though holding himself
+tensely ready to leap back again and soar away. He stared around, and
+peered above.
+
+Was that a shadow?--a nightmare flying bird?--or a plane?
+
+He grasped a hand-flash, and rapidly signalled his identity. The next
+instant, it seemed, the shadow wavered, then fell earthward with great
+speed.
+
+Out of the gloom and rain it came--an enemy plane.
+
+It dropped down beside his scout. From its cockpit came a few swift
+flashes of light.
+
+Hay!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lance ran eagerly over to the other plane, and out from its enclosed
+cabin stepped the man he had known as Praed.
+
+Wordlessly, they gripped hands. Hay's thin, straight face wore a
+smile, and he met Lance's eyes keenly. Lance stammered:
+
+"S-sorry, Captain Hay, about--about the way I treated you at the base.
+You see, I had no idea who you were."
+
+Hay cut short his apologies with a laugh. "Rot! I'd've been the same
+way myself." He glanced rapidly at Lance's plane. "Got it?" he
+questioned. "I'm a bit late; had a hell of a time getting here without
+arousing suspicion. We'd best hurry."
+
+Lance nodded. They hurried to the Goshawk. As they worked, carefully
+lifting out the Singe beacon, Lance, in crisp, short-clipped
+sentences, told his companion of Ranth, the spy.
+
+"You don't know how much he got through?"
+
+"No," said Lance. "No."
+
+"Hm-m. Well, we'll have to trust to luck."
+
+"You know the working of the beacon?" Lance asked. On the other's nod
+of affirmation he continued: "What's your plan?"
+
+"Light about five miles this side of Frisco itself, just near the main
+Slav military base. Anywhere in that territory would do, though. The
+beacon doesn't go up in a narrow ray; it spreads, diffuses. The
+squadron of torpedoes will cover some fifty or sixty miles of ground,
+I believe. They'll utterly demolish the city, and every damned Slav in
+it." His face, in the darkness, went grim and hard. "And it'll damn
+well pay them back," he rasped, "for the horrible way they massacred
+San Francisco's population...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Singe beacon was in his plane. Hay turned to Lance, stretching out
+his hand for a farewell clasp. Then Lance asked the question that had
+been worrying him.
+
+"Colonel Douglas told me to give you a last handshake for him. _Last._
+Why did he say that?"
+
+"Because," Hay said smilingly, "I'm staying by the beacon to make sure
+that nothing goes wrong. I guess that's why he said it, old
+fellow...."
+
+Lance gasped: "You're sacrificing your life?"
+
+"Of course. To save seventy-five million others."
+
+Then suddenly they both stared above.
+
+A roar of sound--of purring motors, of props, mixed with the chatter
+of a dozen machine-guns--had belched with numbing suddenness from the
+low-hanging clouds.
+
+Enemy planes! A patrol of them!
+
+"God!" jerked Lance. "Ranth's warning got through! Part of it,
+anyway!"
+
+He leaped for his plane, shouting: "I'll hold 'em off! You get away
+_quick_!" and, through a veritable hail of lead, sprang into the
+cockpit.
+
+Then, a cold pang at his heart, he sprang out again.
+
+A bullet had caught Hay!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a moment, the Slav fire ceased, while their planes zoomed up to
+start another death-dealing dive. And in that moment Lance was at
+Hay's side, where he had fallen.
+
+"They--got me," whispered Hay, a stream of blood welling from his
+gasping mouth. "I'm--I'm going. C-carry me to--to your plane. I've
+still a--a little strength left. You take the beacon. I--I'll hold
+them--as--as long as--I can. Put through that beacon, boy! _Put it
+though!_"
+
+His brain a maelstrom, Lance stared at the crumpled figure. It was the
+only way! He heard the motors above come roaring down again;
+desperately he carried the blood-choking Hay to his own plane; propped
+him limply at the controls. Bullets spat through a frenzy of noise.
+Weakly Hay started the Goshawk's Diesels, and weakly, into Lance's
+face, smiled, and beckoned him to leave.
+
+And, as Lance, a grim resolve at his heart, turned, Hay's
+blood-frothed lips formed the words: "Carry on!"
+
+Through the raining lead, seeming to bear a charmed life, Lance leaped
+to Hay's plane, hearing as he did so his own, with a stricken pilot at
+its controls, hurtle upwards.
+
+Carry on! For the life of America!
+
+Carry on!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes past the hour of nine. A full thousand miles behind the
+lines, on the wide black field of America's major war base, a small
+group of men stood, surveying the awesome weapons assembled there.
+
+Row upon row of huge, dully-gleaming cigar-shaped things stretched
+away into the darkness before them. There were only one or two faint
+lights to give illumination, and the night choked in on them, making
+them terrifying.
+
+They resembled, more than anything else, half-sized dirigibles, being
+roughly about one hundred feet long and perhaps as much as thirty
+feet high. At first sight, they seemed to be numberless; then, as the
+bewildered eye became more sane, one could count them and see that
+there were, in reality, about thirty. Their prows were stubby; in the
+port side of each a tiny trap-door yawned, and standing by every
+trap-door was the overall-clad figure of a mechanic, waiting for the
+signal.
+
+The Commander of the American Air Force looked up from his
+wrist-watch. At his side was a peculiar gnomelike figure, a figure
+with hunched, twisted back and huge, over-heavy head. This was
+Professor Singe, and from that ridiculous head had come the germ which
+had finally expanded into the torpedoes arrayed before him.
+
+His eyes were nervous; his crooked face twitched ceaselessly. "Time?"
+he kept asking. "Time? Is it yet time?" And finally the tall figure of
+the Commanding Officer turned and rapped: "Time!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An aide-de-camp raised a hand. As if working by some mechanical
+device, the figure which stood by each torpedo climbed through the
+trap-doors, jumped out a second later, and came running to the head of
+the field.
+
+"About thirty seconds," muttered Singe nervously, eyes alight. "Thirty
+seconds for their motors to catch the stream. Thirty--ah!"
+
+For the squadron of man-made horrors had stirred.
+
+"God pity San Francisco!" murmured the Commanding Officer, and stepped
+back involuntarily as the whole fleet lifted their glyco-scarzite
+crammed bellies from the field and, as if moved by some magical,
+unseen, unheard force, shot up into the darkness with ever gathering
+speed.
+
+"God pity it, indeed!" chuckled Singe exultantly. "It'll need it!"
+
+The C. O. sighed and shook his head slowly. "War!" he mused. "And yet,
+it's our only chance." For a moment he paused, seemingly unconscious
+of the macabre little form next to him, still gazing aloft at the now
+invisible torpedoes, and then muttered:
+
+"And God pity Basil Hay, who's giving his life to America--a glorious,
+unselfish hero. God pity Basil Hay!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+American flyers never knew of Basil Hay's last fight. Had they, it
+would have become legendary.
+
+For Hay fought a grim battle against two foes. One, he could face and
+conquer, as he had conquered often before. But the other lurked next
+to his dauntless heart, and it Hay could not subdue.
+
+It was death.
+
+Truly, Hay's fight there in the wet clouds above Sola Ranch was an
+inspired one. He fought almost by instinct alone, instinct twenty
+years of piloting had planted deep in his veins. He fought for
+Lance--for America. His eyes, glazing rapidly, could not distinguish
+the roaring phantoms that laced around his lone plane, but uncannily
+his bursts of fire went home again and again, while theirs ripped
+aimlessly over the Goshawk's hell-driven snout.
+
+Of course it could not last. Gallant spirit alone kept Basil Hay taut
+at his controls. Spirit alone thrust back the ever-increasing surge of
+black oblivion that pounded at his heart and brain. Spirit alone sent
+the pitifully outnumbered plane corkscrewing in peerless maneuverings
+that baffled the on-passing Slavs and thrust four of them to the
+sodden ground in flame. Spirit that would not surrender--but had to.
+
+They could never have conquered Basil Hay in a plane. An ambushing
+bullet that caught him off guard did that. And finally Hay fell.
+
+But he had kept them for ten full minutes. Ten minutes--each one a
+lasting, mute testimony to his unquenchable, unyielding spirit.
+
+He flung a last salvo from his hot machine-guns, then, heart numbing,
+jerked back the control-stick and careened high. He slumped down. The
+plane paused, wallowed crazily for a moment, and then roared
+earthward, "Carry on!" formed faintly on its dead pilot's bloody lips.
+
+Basil Hay had fought his last fight.
+
+Ten minutes....
+
+Lance hadn't expected that long. He'd thought Hay would die in a few
+seconds. The man was mortally wounded; could not last.
+
+Nevertheless, minutes or seconds, he was entrusted with the Singe
+beacon, and it was his job and his will to put it through.
+
+He'd climbed the Slav plane up to its ceiling, driven it till it
+simply refused to go higher, and then roared on towards San Francisco.
+Each second he expected to see others come hurtling after him. When
+they did not, he knew how really great Hay's will was. It was an
+inspiring example.
+
+But his brain was tortured by a multitude of conflicting doubts. A
+patrol of Slav scouts had ambushed them. Just how much did the Slavs
+know, then, about the torpedoes?
+
+He, Lance, had to guide the Singe beacon. Quickly he reviewed what Hay
+had told him.
+
+"Light about five miles this side of Frisco. Anywhere in that
+territory would do, though. The beacon doesn't go up in a narrow ray;
+it spreads, diffuses."
+
+_Spreads, diffuses._
+
+Hay had been clad in Slav uniform, and thus could, with a certain
+measure of safety, put the beacon machinery on the ground itself. But
+Lance was in American uniform; if he landed, he ran great risk of
+being noticed and attacked at once.
+
+Lance saw immediately that there was only one way out. It was sure
+death, but Hay had expected death, and so must he.
+
+His lips set in stern resolve. It meant good-by--farewell to the girl
+he'd left behind, farewell to life, farewell to everything--but not
+for a second did he debate the course he would take.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lance glanced at his watch. Nine-thirty. The torpedoes were even now
+on their way, hurtling along miles above the earth. In fifteen minutes
+they would be over San Francisco. In fifteen minutes the Singe beacon
+had to meet them.
+
+He was not familiar with the Slav plane's instruments, but he judged
+he'd traveled some hundred and twenty-five miles; was nearing the
+outskirts of San Francisco. The air below would be thick, probably,
+with enemy scouts, but his appearance should pass unchallenged as long
+as they didn't glimpse his betraying uniform.
+
+He set the plane's nose down in a long slanting dive.
+
+Whipping through the clouds, the guarding search-rays of San Francisco
+were soon visible. Lance saw a few patrols of enemy scouts; he clung
+to the clouds, decreased his speed, and began circling over the heart
+of the metropolis itself.
+
+Twenty to ten.
+
+Occasionally a Slav plane flashed by him. Thank God, they didn't
+challenge! Lance went still lower. Finally, at a thousand feet, he set
+the helicopter props in motion and hung in mid-air--directly above the
+very center of the city.
+
+Sixteen minutes to ten.
+
+Now!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the American front-line trenches, massed troops crouched
+expectantly. Clustered on every air base were flights of planes, each
+one crammed with bombs. Far behind, the Yank gun-crews edged nervously
+up to their mighty charges, and fingered anxiously the stubby gas
+shells which soon would be flung through the dripping night.
+
+And at Base No. 5 a very uneasy Colonel Douglas paced back and forth
+in his office, muttering: "No news from Lance! No news from Lance!
+God! He can't have failed! But why doesn't he show up?"
+
+He had not failed.
+
+Hovering in the plane over San Francisco Lance squirmed round in his
+seat, reached back into the fuselage, and pressed rapidly the studs on
+the Singe beacon. A high whining noise pierced instantly through the
+plane. And up stabbed the beacon, invisible, deadly--up, up, up to a
+thin realm miles above, where it flashed into an awesome squadron of
+terrible shells of steel!
+
+Shells that, a second later, wavered, staggered, and plunged
+earthward!
+
+And Lance tensed in his seat. From above, he caught a tiny whistling
+noise--a whistling that hurtled into a terrific shriek--that roared
+ever closer.
+
+"Carry on!" he muttered. "Carry on!"
+
+The words froze on his lips, for the world was suddenly consumed, it
+seemed, by flame and splitting, bellowing thunder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The American guns spoke.
+
+From every aerodrome long flights of scouts and bombers and transport
+planes roared upward.
+
+In the front trenches the troops, still somewhat dazed by the
+earth-shaking explosion that had just tumbled from the far horizon--a
+horizon still lit by leaping tongues of awful flame--poured over the
+top, gas-masks on, repeaters and portable machine-guns at the ready,
+with a fierce cry on their lips.
+
+Before that avenging attack the Slavs, their very spine broken,
+bewildered and confused, already turning in panic, could not stand.
+
+America swept to the Pacific, and left death in her wake. And when she
+came to San Francisco, not even the sternest fighting men, still hot
+from battle, could repress a shudder, so awful was the devastation.
+
+The Slav invasion was over!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the rebuilt city of San Francisco there is a statue that stands
+proudly before the magnificent, gleaming city hall.
+
+It represents two slim, straight-standing figures, clad in the uniform
+of the American Air Force. Their outstretched arms support a tiny
+one-seater Goshawk fighting plane.
+
+Below, as you know, there is a plaque. Men touch their hats as they
+walk by it; flowers are always fresh at its base. On the plaque are
+the words:
+
+                To The Everlasting
+                    Memory Of
+
+             Captain Basil Hay, A.A.F.
+             Captain Derek Lance, A.A.F.
+
+           Who, In The War Of 1938, Gave
+           Their Lives In Destroying And
+             Devastating San Francisco
+           That San Francisco And America
+                     Might Live
+
+
+[Illustration: Advertisement.]
+
+
+
+
+The Tentacles From Below
+
+A COMPLETE NOVELETTE
+
+_By Anthony Gilmore_
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+"_Machine-Fish_"
+
+[Illustration: _Bowman hooked it on the hawser arm above._]
+
+[Sidenote: Down to tremendous ocean depths goes Commander Keith Wells
+in his blind duel with the marauding "machine-fish."]
+
+
+"Full stop. Rest ready."
+
+These words glowed in vivid red against the black background of the
+_NX-1's_ control order-board. A wheel was spun over, a lever pulled
+back, and in the hull of the submarine descended the peculiar silence
+found only in mile-deep waters. Men rested at their posts, eyes alert.
+
+Above, in the control room, Hemingway Bowman, youthful first officer,
+glanced at the teleview screen and swore softly.
+
+"Keith," he said, "between you and me, I'll be damned glad when this
+monotonous job's over. I joined the Navy to see the world, but this
+charting job's giving me entirely too many close-ups of the deadest
+parts of it!"
+
+Commander Keith Wells. U. S. N., grinned broadly. "Well," he remarked,
+"in a few minutes we can call it a day--or night, rather--and then
+it's back to the _Falcon_ while the day shift 'sees the world.'" He
+turned again to his dials as Hemmy Bowman, with a sigh, resumed work.
+
+"Depth, six thousand feet. Visibility poor. Bottom eight thousand," he
+said into the phone hung before his lips, and fifty feet aft, in a
+small cubby, a blue-clad figure monotonously repeated the observations
+and noted them down in an official geographical survey report.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Such had been their routine for two tiring weeks, all part of the
+_NX-l's_ present work of re-charting the Newfoundland banks.
+
+As early as 1929 slight cataclysms had begun to tear up the sea-floor
+of this region, and of late--1935--seismographs and cable companies
+had reported titanic upheavals and sinkings of the ocean bed, changing
+hundreds of miles of underwater territory. Finally Washington decided
+to chart the alterations this series of sub-sea earthquakes had
+wrought.
+
+And for this job the _NX-1_ was detailed. A super-submarine fresh from
+the yards, small, but modern to the last degree, she contained such
+exclusive features as a sheathing of the tough new glycosteel,
+automatic air rectifiers, a location chart for showing positions of
+nearby submarines, the newly developed Edsel electric motors, and
+automatic teleview screen. When below surface she was a sealed tube of
+metal one hundred feet long, and possessed of an enormous cruising
+radius. From the flower of the Navy some thirty men were picked, and
+in company with the mother-ship _Falcon_ she put out to combine an
+exhaustive trial trip with the practical charting of the newly changed
+ocean floor.
+
+Now this work was almost over. Keith Wells told himself that he, like
+Bowman, would be glad to set foot on land again. This surveying was
+important, of course, but too dry for him--no action. He smiled at the
+lines of boredom on Hemmy's brow as the younger man stared gloomily
+into the teleview screen.
+
+And then the smile left his lips. The radio operator, in a cubby
+adjoining the control room, had spoken into the communication tube:
+
+"Urgent call for you, sir! From Captain Knapp!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells reached out and clipped a pair of extension phones over his
+ears. The deep voice of Robert Knapp, captain of the mother-ship
+_Falcon_, came ringing in. It was strained with an excitement unusual
+to him.
+
+"Wells? Knapp speaking. Something damned funny's just happened near
+here. You know the fishing fleet that was near us yesterday morning?"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, the whole thing's gone down! Destroyed, absolutely! The sea's
+been like glass, the weather perfect--yet from the wreckage, what
+there is of it, you'd think a typhoon had struck! I can't begin to
+explain it. No survivors, either, so far, though we're hunting for
+them."
+
+"You say the boats are completely destroyed?"
+
+"Smashed like driftwood. I tell you it's preposterous--and yet it's
+the fact. I think you'd better return at once, old man; you're only
+half an hour off. And come on the surface; it's getting light now, and
+you might pick up something. God knows what this means, Keith, but
+it's up to us to find out. It's--it's got me...."
+
+His tones were oddly disturbed--almost scared--and this from a man who
+didn't know what fear was.
+
+"But Bob," Keith asked, "how did you--"
+
+"Stand by a minute! The lookout reports survivors!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells turned to meet Bowman's inquisitive face. He quickly repeated
+the gist of Knapp's weird story. "We saw them at dusk, last
+evening--remember? And now they're gone, destroyed. What can have done
+it?"
+
+For some minutes the two surprised men speculated on the strange
+occurrence. Then Knapp's voice again rang in the headphones.
+
+"Wells? My God, man, this is getting downright fantastic! We've just
+taken two survivors on board; one's barely alive and the other crazy.
+I can't get an intelligible thing from him; he keeps shrieking about
+writhing arms and awful eyes--and monsters he calls 'machine-fish'!"
+
+"You're sure he's insane?"
+
+Robert Knapp's voice hesitated queerly.
+
+"Well, he's shrieking about 'machine-fish'--fish with machines over
+them!... I--I'm going to broadcast the whole story to the land
+stations. 'Machine-fish'! I don't know.... I don't know.... You'd
+better hurry back, Wells!"
+
+He rang off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Keith slipped off the headphones and told Bowman what he had learned.
+Hardy, staunchly built craft, those fishing boats were; born in the
+teeth of gales. What horror could have ripped them--all of them--to
+driftwood, with the weather perfect? And a half-mad survivor, raving
+about "machine-fish"!
+
+"Such things are preposterous," Bowman commented scornfully.
+
+"But--the fleet's gone, Hemmy," Keith replied. "Anyway, we'll speed
+back, and see what it's all about."
+
+He punched swift commands on the control studs. "Empty Tanks, Zoom to
+Surface, Full Speed," the crimson words glared down below, and the
+_NX-1_ at once shoved her snout up, trembling as her great electric
+motors began their pulsing whine. The delicate fingers of the massed
+dials before Keith danced exultantly. The depth-levels tolled out:
+
+"Seven thousand ... six thousand ... five thousand--"
+
+"Keith! Look there!"
+
+Hemmy Bowman was pointing with amazement at the location chart, a
+black mesh screen that showed the position of other submarines within
+a radius of two miles. In one corner, a spot of vivid red was shining.
+
+"But it can't be a submarine!" Wells objected. "Our reports would have
+mentioned it!"
+
+The two officers stared at each other.
+
+"'Machine-fish!'" Bowman whispered softly. "If there were machines,
+the metal would register on the chart."
+
+"It must be them!" the commander roared, coming out of his daze. "And,
+by God, we're going after them!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rapidly he brought the _NX-1_ out of her zoom to the surface, and left
+her at four thousand feet, in perfect trim, while he read the
+instruments closely.
+
+A green spot in the center of the location chart denoted the _NX-1's_
+exact position. A distance of perhaps forty inches separated it from
+the red light on the meshed screen--which represented, roughly, a mile
+and a half. Below the chart was a thick dial, over which a black hand,
+indicating the mysterious submersible's approximate depth, was slowly
+moving.
+
+"He's sinking--whatever he is," Keith muttered to Hemmy. "Hey, Sparks!
+Get me Captain Knapp."
+
+A moment later the connection was put through.
+
+"Bob? This is Wells again. Bob, our location chart shows the presence
+of some strange undersea metallic body. It can't be a submarine, for
+my maritime reports would show its presence. We think it has some
+connection with the 'machine-fish' that survivor raved about. At any
+rate, I'm going after it. The world has a right to know what destroyed
+that fishing fleet, and since the _NX-1_ is right on the spot it's my
+duty to track it down. Re-broadcast this news to land stations, will
+you? I'll keep in touch with you."
+
+Knapp's voice came soberly back. "I guess you're right, Keith; it's up
+to you.... So long, old man. Good luck!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In Wells' veins throbbed the lust for action. With control studs at
+hand, location chart and teleview screen before his eyes and fifteen
+men waiting below for his commands, he had no fear of any monster the
+underseas might spew up. He glanced swiftly at the location chart and
+depth indicator again.
+
+The mysterious red spot was slowly coming across the _NX-1's_ bows at
+a distance of about one mile. Keith punched a stud, and, as his craft
+filled her tank and slipped down further into deep water, he spoke to
+Hemmy Bowman.
+
+"Take control for a minute. Keep on all speed, and follow 'em like a
+bloodhound. I'm going below."
+
+He strode down the connecting ramp to the lower deck, where he found
+fifteen men standing vigilantly at posts. At once Keith plunged into a
+full explanation of what he had learned up in the control room. He
+concluded:
+
+"A great moral burden rests on us--every one of us--as we will soon
+come face to face with a possible world menace. Anything may happen. A
+state of war exists on this submarine. You will be prepared for any
+wartime eventuality!"
+
+Sobered faces greeted this announcement, and perceptibly the men
+straightened and held themselves more alertly. Wells at once returned
+to the control room. A glance at the location chart and its two tiny
+lights told him that the intervening distance had been decreased to
+about half a mile.
+
+The depth dial showed them both to be two miles below, and steadily
+diving lower. Charts showed the sea-floor to be three miles deep in
+this position, and that meant--
+
+"Look there!" exclaimed the first officer suddenly. "It's changing
+course!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The crimson stud had suddenly shifted its course, and now was fleeing
+directly before them. For a moment the distance between the green and
+red lights remained constant--and then Keith Wells stared
+unbelievingly at the chart, wiped a hand across his eyes and stared
+again.
+
+"Why--why, the devils are as fast as we!" he exclaimed in amazement.
+"I think they're even gaining on us!"
+
+"And there's no other submarine in the world that can do more than
+thirty under water!" Hemmy Bowman added. "We're hitting a full
+forty-one!"
+
+A call came through the communication tube from Sparks. "Report from
+Consolidated Radio News-Broadcasters, sir, aimed especially at us."
+
+"Well?" asked Keith, motioning Hemmy to listen in. Sparks read it.
+
+"'A week ago Atlantic City reported that seven men were snatched off
+fishing boat by unidentified tentacled monsters. Testimony of
+witnesses was discredited, but was later corroborated by the almost
+identical testimony of other witnesses at Brighton Beach, England, who
+saw man and woman taken by mysterious monsters whilst bathing.'
+Perhaps these same creatures destroyed the Newfoundland fishing
+fleet." His level voice ceased.
+
+"Tentacled monsters ... 'machine-fish,'" Wells murmured slowly.
+"'Machine-fish.'..."
+
+Their eyes met, the same wonder in each. "Well," Keith rapped at
+last, "we're seeing this through!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He turned again to the location chart. The green spot as always was in
+the center, and at a constant distance was the red, showing that the
+_NX-1_ was hot on the other's trail. The depth dials indicated that
+both were diving deeper every moment.
+
+"Where in hell's it going?" the commander rasped. "We'll be on the
+floor in a few minutes!"
+
+Here the teleview showed the world to be one of fantasy, one to which
+the sun did not exist. It was not an utter, pitchy blackness that
+pervaded the water, but rather a peculiar, dark blueness. No fish
+schools, Keith noted, scurried from them. They had already left these
+waters; aware, perhaps, of the passing Terror....
+
+They plunged lower yet. Wells was conscious of Hemmy Bowman's quick,
+uneven breathing. Conscious of the tautness of his own nerves, strung
+like quivering violin strings. Conscious of the terrific walls of
+water pressing in on them. And conscious of the men below, their lives
+bound implicitly in his will and brain....
+
+A thought came to him, and quickly he reached into a rack for the
+chart of the local sea-floor. His brow creased with puzzlement as he
+studied it.
+
+"Here's more mystery, Hemmy," he muttered. "Look--there's an
+underwater cliff about half a mile dead ahead. It rises to within four
+thousand feet of the surface. And that thing out there is charging
+straight into its base!"
+
+"They must be aware of it," jerked the other. "See?--they've stopped!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was true. The gulf between the two colored spots was rapidly being
+swallowed up. At a pulsing forty-one knots the _NX-1_ was closing in
+on the motionless mystery craft.
+
+"They're sinking to the floor itself," observed Wells. "Perhaps
+waiting to attack."
+
+The invisible beams from their ultra-violet light-beacons streamed
+through the silent gloom outside, yet still the teleview screen was
+empty. Keith punched a stud, and the _NX-1's_ whining motors dulled to
+a scarcely audible purr.
+
+"What is the thing?" muttered Hemmy Bowman. "God, Keith, what _is_
+it?"
+
+For answer, the commander dropped them the last five hundred feet. The
+sea-floor rose like a gray ghost. More control studs were pushed; the
+order-board below read: "All Power Off, Rest in Trim." The location
+chart told a tale that wrung a gasp from Bowman's throat. The red and
+green lights were practically touching....
+
+The hands of Petty Officer Brown, the helmsman, were quivering on the
+helm. Wells' fists kept tensing and relaxing as he peered for a sight
+of the enemy in the teleview. Nothing showed but the moving fingers of
+spectral kelp. Then both he and Bowman cried out as one:
+
+"_There!_"
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+_The Silent Ray_
+
+A strange shape had suddenly materialized on the screen--an immense,
+oval-shaped thing of dull metal, with great curving cuts of glass-like
+substance in its blunt bow, like staring eyes; a lifeless, staring
+thing, stretching far into the curtain of gloom behind. How long it
+was, Keith could not tell; at first his numb brain refused to grasp it
+and reduce it to definite, sane standards of size and length. The cold
+weeds of the sea-floor kelp beds swayed eerily over and around it.
+From its bow, he saw, peculiar knobs jutted, the function of which he
+guessed with dread.
+
+Was it waiting with a purpose? Was it waiting--and inviting attack?
+
+A frightened whisper from Hemmy Bowman broke the hush:
+
+"Keith, the thing has ports, but shows no lights! What kind of
+creatures can they be?"
+
+As he spoke, the three men in the control room felt the unmistakable,
+jarring tingle of an electric shock. And while their nerves still
+jumped, it came again; and again. They were conscious of a slight
+feeling of drowsiness.
+
+Keith gaped at Bowman and Brown, and then a flash on the teleview
+screen drew his eyes. There, against the blackness of its otherwise
+inanimate hulk, one of the jutting knobs on the bow of the mysterious
+submarine was glowing and pulsing with orange life! With it came the
+tingling shock again. It flicked off as they watched, then returned
+and went once more.
+
+"They're attacking, but thank God the shock was harmless!" Wells said
+grimly. "All right; they've asked for it: I'm going to see how they
+like the taste of a torpedo!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two submarines were resting on the ocean floor with perhaps two
+hundred feet between them. The _NX-1's_ bow tubes were not exactly in
+line to score a direct hit; she would have to be maneuvered slightly
+to port. The range was short; the explosion from the torpedoes would
+be titanic.
+
+Keith punched the control studs, ordering the men below to assume
+firing stations. Then, while waiting for the _NX-1_ to shift, he
+studied the teleview screen to sight the range exactly. The black dot
+which represented the enemy craft was not directly on the crossed
+hair-lines of the dial-like range-finder, but shifting the _NX-1_ a
+few feet would bring it to the perfect firing point.
+
+But the _NX-1_ did not budge.
+
+Surprised, her commander swung and looked at Bowman. "What the devil?"
+he cried. "Did that shock--?" He left the dread thought unfinished and
+leaped to the speaking tubes.
+
+"Craig! Jones! Wetherby!" he yelled. "Men! Don't you hear me? Aren't
+you--"
+
+He broke off, wordless, waiting for an answer that did not come, then
+sprang to the connecting ramp and ran to the deck below.
+
+The scene he found halted him abruptly in his tracks. Every member of
+the crew was sprawled on the deck, in grotesque, limp postures. They
+had been standing rigidly at posts, he saw, when the thing, whatever
+it was, had struck. Without a sound, without a single cry of alarm,
+the _NX-1's_ crew had been laid low!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The commander slowly advanced to the deck and stared more closely at
+the upturned faces around him. He saw that every man's eyes were open.
+
+Bending over one still form, he pressed his hand on the heart. It was
+beating! The man was alive! Amazed, he moved to another and another:
+they were all breathing, slowly and regularly--were all alive! A
+curious look in their eyes staggered him for a moment. He could swear
+that they recognized him, knew he was staring at them--for every
+single pair was alight with intelligence, and Keith fancied he saw
+gleams of recognition.
+
+"It must have been a paralyzing ray!" he gasped. "A thing our
+scientists've been trying to develop for years.... And that monster
+outside knows the secret...." He lifted an arm of the inert figure at
+his feet; when he released the grip, it flopped limply back to the
+deck again.
+
+"_Keith! Come back, quick!_"
+
+Startled, the commander turned to find Hemingway Bowman at the top of
+the connecting ramp, his face distorted with alarm.
+
+"For God's sake, come back quick!" he yelled again. "Down there the
+ray might get you!"
+
+With the words, Wells leaped to the ramp and raced to the control
+room. He had no sooner made it than he felt again the queer tingle of
+the electric charge. He found himself trembling. Bowman's face was
+white. His words came stuttering.
+
+"One second later and they'd have got you.... They got Sparks in his
+cubby.... You see, the ray doesn't affect us in the control room
+because--"
+
+"Because the Gibson insulation that protects the instruments keeps it
+out!" Keith finished grimly. "I see!"
+
+Just then a slight jar ran through the submarine. Coincident with it
+came a cry from Brown, the helmsman. His arm was pointed at the
+teleview.
+
+There they saw the enemy's mighty dirigible of metal was now within
+thirty feet of the _NX-1._ It had crept up silently, without warning.
+And, spanning the short gulf between them, an arm of webbed metal
+craned from the other's huge bow, hooking tightly into the American
+submarine's forward hawser holes!
+
+As they took this in, the enemy ship moved away and the arm of metal
+tightened. The _NX-1_ shuddered. And, at first slowly, but with ever
+increasing speed, she got under way and slid after her captor. They
+were being towed away. Kidnaped! Men, submarine and all!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Keith Wells mopped sweat from a hot brow and rapidly reviewed his
+weapons. He was sorely restricted. Through an emergency system the
+_NX-1_ could be propelled and maneuvered from her control room; but
+the torpedo tubes needed local attendance.
+
+"Hemmy, reverse engines," he jerked, himself spinning over a small
+wheel. "Let's see if we can out-pull the devil!"
+
+At once they felt the shock of the paralyzing ray, and then the
+surging whine of the Edsel electrics pulsed up and in the teleview
+screen they watched the grim struggle of ship against ship.
+
+Imperceptibly, almost, as her screws cut in and churned, the forward
+progress of the _NX-1_ was slowing, the speed of the other being cut
+down, until finally they but barely forged ahead. Slowly, ever so
+slowly they were out-pulled; inch by inch they were dragged ahead.
+Their motors could not hold even.
+
+"She's more powerful than we!" Wells' bitter voice spoke. "Damn!" He
+thought desperately, while Bowman and Brown stared at the fantastic
+tale the teleview spelled out.
+
+Again the paralyzing shock tingled, an intangible jailer that bound
+them, more surely than steel bars, to the control room. To dare that
+streaming barrage meant instant impotence, and perhaps, later,
+death....
+
+"Our two bow torpedoes," Keith mused slowly. "We're a bit close, but
+it's our only chance. The ray comes at intervals of about a minute;
+the torps are ready for firing. If one of us could dash forward and
+discharge 'em.... Brown, that's you!"
+
+The petty officer met his commander's gaze levelly. He smiled. "Yes,
+sir, I'm ready!" he said.
+
+"Good! It'll have to be quick work, though; I'll try and keep the sub
+pointed straight. Wait for the ray, then run like hell!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first officer took over the helm and Brown stepped to the forward
+ladder, waiting for the periodic ray to be discharged.
+
+The odd tingle came and vanished. "Now!" Wells roared, and Brown
+leaped down the thin steel rungs.
+
+He staggered at the bottom from the force of his impact, then
+straightened and raced madly forward. Through the drone of the motors
+the two officers could hear the staccato beat of his feet.
+
+But their eyes were glued to the teleview. Through clutching beds of
+seaweed the enemy submarine was ploughing. Her great, smooth bow lay
+straight ahead, metal hawser arm spanning the thirty feet between
+them. In another second, Keith thought grimly, two dynamite packed
+tubes of sudden death would thunderbolt into that hull, and--
+
+Brown pulled the lever.
+
+The tubes spat out compressed air; a scream ran through the submarine;
+and the two steel fish leaped from their sheaths, their tiny props
+roaring. Over the narrow gulf they shot; the range was short, their
+target dead ahead--and yet by bare inches they missed!
+
+No answering roar bellowed back. Keith had watched their course; had
+seen them flash by the enemy's bow, flicking it with their rudders,
+but nothing more. "Why?" he cried. And, as Bowman moved his hands in a
+hopeless gesture, he saw in the teleview the reason.
+
+It was a jagged pinnacle of rock, which, just before Brown had fired,
+had been straight ahead. The towing monster had seen it and veered
+sharply to avoid crashing. The barest change of course, yet sufficient
+to avoid the torpedoes....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells and Bowman were cursing savagely when the sound of Brown, racing
+desperately aft, jerked the commander to the ladder. He saw the petty
+officer at its foot. "Hurry!" Wells shouted. "The ray!"
+
+Brown grasped the steel rungs and scrambled upward, but he was too
+late. The fatal charge tingled. A peculiar, surprised expression
+washed over his face; his hands loosened their grip. For a second his
+eyes looked questioningly at his commander; a faint sigh escaped him;
+and then his arms flung out, his body relaxed, and he slumped like a
+slab of meat to the deck below....
+
+Keith Wells saw red. Blind to everything, he was just about to charge
+down the ladder to himself re-load the forward tubes when the grip of
+Hemmy Bowman's hand stayed him. The thing Hemmy was staring at in the
+teleview screen sobered him completely.
+
+The wall of rock to which the enemy submarine had first been charging
+had become visible, soaring vastly from the gloom of the sea-floor.
+And the monster was towing them straight into a dark, jagged cleft at
+its base.
+
+"It's a cavern!" Keith breathed. "A split in the rock--the lair of
+that devil. And we're being dragged into it!"
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+_Sacrifice_
+
+At that moment Keith Wells knew fear. Each second they were being
+hauled closer to the monster's dim lair. It lay there, dark,
+mysterious, fingered by gently swaying, clammy kelp. A hushed solitude
+seemed to reign over it, aweing all undersea life from the
+vicinity.... Wells turned his head to meet Bowman's eyes, and read in
+them a silent question.
+
+What now?
+
+He groaned in the agony of his mind. In a few minutes, all would be
+over. Once the _NX-1_ was dragged into that dark cavern there'd be no
+chance of escaping to warn the world above, of saving the submarine.
+What now? The question brought beads of sweat to his tormented brow.
+He, Keith Wells, standing impotently by while his ship, the pride of
+the service, was hauled inch by inch to some strange doom!
+
+Racked by these thoughts, he murmured tortured, jerky phrases,
+unconscious he was giving voice to the things that flogged his brain.
+
+"What can I do? I've got to save my ship--I've got to get back to
+break the news--I've got to tell the world! But how? How--" His
+expression changed suddenly. "That's it! That hawser arm between us
+must be broken!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+First Officer Hemingway Bowman's clear voice broke in on the older
+man's thoughts with that one crisp word. Keith swung to find the
+other's eyes fixed levelly on his.
+
+"You're right, Keith. The hawser arm must be broken; with a depth
+charge, of course. It's the only way.
+
+"To attach a depth charge," he continued evenly, "a man must leave the
+ship. You can't, Keith. It will be me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The commander did not speak. "I'll put on a sea-suit," Hemmy went on
+quickly, eyes lighting. "You tip the submarine and I'll slide out the
+conning tower exit port on the lee side, so they can't see me, and
+worm forward through the kelp. We're almost holding them even; that'll
+be easy. I'll be protected from the paralyzing shock until the last
+second, and it may not get me outside; that'll have to be chanced. The
+hawser arm's only some ten feet above the sea-floor; I can reach it
+with a hook on the charge." He paused.
+
+"I'll attach it; and when it bursts I'll try to get back and grab that
+ring on the midships exit port, and you can let me in when we get to
+the surface. But if I take too long, Keith--if I miss--you beat it
+without me. You understand? Beat it!"
+
+He gazed straight at his friend. "Understand, Keith?"
+
+Commander Keith Wells bowed his head in acquiescence. He was afraid
+that if he met Hemmy Bowman's steady eyes he'd make a fool of
+himself....
+
+Hemmy glanced at the screen once more, shivering as he saw how near
+the black cavern was. Then he moved rapidly, playing the cards
+carefully for his gamble with death. He had to: the trumps were in the
+other hand.
+
+From the locker where their sea-suits were stowed he grabbed his own,
+and with quick fingers ripped the slides and fitted it on. A sheath of
+yellow Lestofabrik, its weighted feet and gleaming casque transformed
+his slim figure into a giant such as might stalk through a nightmare.
+Built cunningly into the helmet was a tiny radio transmitter and
+receiver, with a range of a quarter-mile; hugging to the shoulders,
+inside nestled the air-making mechanism, its tiny generators already
+in motion. Around the helmet was fastened a small removable
+undersea-light. The wrists of the suit were very flexible, permitting
+the freest motion.
+
+Once in the suit, Hemmy smiled through the still-opened face-shield.
+
+"Got the depth charge ready, Keith? Make it fast--that cavern's
+near!... Good!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silently the commander fitted the black bomb to his friend's
+shoulders. It was timed to fire a minute after being set. A long wire
+hook craned from its top, and this hook Bowman would fasten on the
+hawser arm.
+
+"Without Sparks, I guess I'll have to communicate with you through
+portable," Keith said, and quickly donned one of the tiny portable
+sets.
+
+"Right. Ready, Keith."
+
+Bowman started his awkward, crawling progress up the ladder into the
+conning tower just above, Keith helping from behind. When they stood
+before the exit port on the lee side, Wells shot back its bolts and
+the door swung open, revealing the black emptiness of the water
+chamber. The commander gazed for a second into Bowman's eyes. The
+moment had come.
+
+Keith turned his head away, felt a hand grip his. He wrung it
+tightly....
+
+Bowman clumped into the chamber.
+
+The commander closed and locked the door, and he heard the streaming
+water pour in as Hemmy turned the valve. Then Wells sped down the
+ladder and tilted the diving and course rudders of the submarine.
+
+She swayed daintily over to port; held there. A moment later the
+recurring electric tingle brushed him. Had the enemy seen Bowman
+leave? Had the ray struck him down?
+
+He glared into the teleview. "Thank God!" he breathed. For Hemmy had
+already slid down the _NX-1's_ smooth hull and was safe on the
+sea-floor beside her.
+
+"Everything right?" Wells asked, speaking into the microphone of his
+portable.
+
+"All O.K.," came the answer. "Going forward now. Kelp thick as hell."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Keith's eyes bored at the screen. This misshapen monster who was his
+friend! Almost obscured by bands of thick-leaved kelp the yellow form
+moved, hands clearing a pathway through the weeds. Slowly but surely
+he made for the bow of the submersible.
+
+"Hard going, Keith. God--the cavern's right ahead!"
+
+It was ghostly to hear Hemmy's warm voice from the lifeless solitude
+outside. Breath coming quickly, Wells watched the silent scene--the
+cleft in the wall of rock overshadowing everything now. The diver
+fought ahead, gaining inch by inch.
+
+Now, save for occasional clumps of weed, he was exposed to the
+enemy.... Now the last desperate gauntlet was reached.... Keith felt
+his blood pound hotly.
+
+"I'm gaining, Keith. Gaining...."
+
+Bowman had little breath for speech. His tiny form battled on, now
+sinking from sight as he dropped into some masked gully, now wrestling
+slowly with great swaying strands of kelp, but always struggling
+ahead.
+
+"I'm at the bow, Keith! The hawser arm's right in our mooring holes.
+I'll go halfway before fastening the charge. Any signs of life from
+the devil?"
+
+"None yet, Hemmy. But go slow. Hide all you can, old man, for God's
+sake!..."
+
+Right beneath the metal arm, Bowman's dwarfed figure crept doggedly
+ahead. Forward, inch by breathless inch. Kelp thickened, washed away;
+the two hulking submersibles, captor and captive, surged onward--but
+just a little faster went the valiant figure with the black charge on
+its back.
+
+The towing monster had its snout in the cavern. The darkness
+thickened. Bowman was quarter way!
+
+He plunged desperately. Half way!
+
+"I'm there, Keith! Now for it!"
+
+"Oh, God!" Wells cried. "They see you; they're coming!"
+
+For he had seen strange shapes leaving the enemy submarine.
+
+And at that same moment, Bowman saw them, too.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They came like the blink of a dark eye from a door that had quickly
+slid open in the mysterious ship's bow. As tall as a man they were,
+and there were two of them, though at first the nature of their
+bodies merged with the wreathing kelp made them seem like a dozen.
+Bowman stared at them, hypnotized with fear. His legs and arms went
+dead, and his whole gallant spirit seemed to slump into lifeless clay.
+Now he knew why the fishermen had shrieked "machine-fish." Each one of
+them had eight tapering arms, eight restless tentacles. These were
+octopi, most hideous scavengers of the ocean floor! And not only
+octopi--but octopi sheathed in metal-scaled armor!
+
+As they came closer, he realized this preposterous fact. The dark
+substance of their writhing tentacles was not flesh: it was a coat of
+metal scales. And the fat central mass which held their eyes and vital
+organs and beaked jaw--this mass was completely enveloped by a globe
+of glass. From inside, he could see great eyes staring at him. The
+monsters came towards him quite slowly, obviously wary, advancing over
+the sea-floor in what was a hideous mockery of walking, their forward
+tentacles outstretched.
+
+With a sob, Hemmy Bowman pulled himself from his trance. He glanced
+back at the _NX-1_. He still had time to retreat. He might be able to
+get back inside before these monsters seized him.
+
+But that meant abandoning his job. And already his own submarine was
+nosing into the cavern. The choice between the octopi and retreat
+stared him in the face. He pulled himself together and jerked his arms
+back to action.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Eyes bulging, Keith Wells peered at the dim teleview screen. He saw
+the creatures approaching Hemmy. And then, suddenly, he remembered his
+radiophone.
+
+"Hemmy! Come back, for God's sake!" he cried. "Come back while you
+can--it's hopeless!"
+
+But Bowman had already seized the depth charge from his back and
+hooked it on the hawser arm above.
+
+Immediately, with that action, all caution fled from the approaching
+monsters. Their tentacles whipped furiously; and in a great arc they
+sprang for the tiny figure of the diver.
+
+With a deep breath, Hemmy staggered forward to meet them. "Keith!" he
+gasped. "I'll try to hold 'em away from the charge! When it bursts,
+zoom! Zoom like hell to the surface!" And then the tentacles had him.
+
+Keith watched, cursing his impotence to help. Hemmy had no weapon; he
+was trying to hold them back by the weight of his body; he reached out
+and grasped a tentacle and hugged it to him, shoving forward with all
+his puny strength. But all his effort was as nothing. One of the
+octopi writhed past him and darted onto the depth charge. Its
+tentacles tugged at the bomb; pulled furiously.
+
+The time charge exploded. The _NX-1_ rocked like a quivering reed;
+Wells was knocked violently to the floor; a vast roar smote his
+ear-drums. When he staggered to his feet he found that the octopus
+that was pulling at the charge had disappeared--blown into fragments
+of flesh and metal. But the hawser arm was broken! The _NX-1_, free,
+shot back a full fifty feet under the pull of her reversed screws. A
+cry echoed in her commander's ears:
+
+"Go back, Keith! Go like hell!"
+
+He saw the remaining octopus lift Bowman and whip to the exit port of
+its submarine. The lid slid into place, closing on the monster and his
+friend, and the enemy ship vanished into the black cavern....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once clear of the opening, Keith set his motors full forward and
+brought the diving rudders up. Quickly the ship sped from the haunted
+sea-floor to the sun-warmed surface. A last thin call rang in his
+radiophone:
+
+"They've got me inside, Keith. It's dark, and filled with water. I
+can't see anything, but I--I guess we're going through the cavern....
+Forget about me, old boy. So long! So--"
+
+The voice was abruptly cut off.
+
+Keith ripped the instrument from his head. Then, face white and drawn,
+he ran to the radio cubby. Standing over Sparks' inert body, he put
+through a call to Robert Knapp, on the _Falcon_.
+
+"Knapp?" he said harshly. "This is Wells. I'll be with you in a few
+minutes. Yes--yes--I'll tell you the whole story later. But get this
+now: Have the day shift all ready to take over the submarine by the
+time I pull alongside."
+
+He said no more just then; but rang off, and, looking back, he
+muttered savagely:
+
+"But I'll be back, Hemmy--I'll be back!"
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+_In the Cavern_
+
+"That's the story, Knapp. They got Bowman, and I had to run away.
+Their ship disappeared into the cavern. I've got a hunch, though, that
+it's not just a cavern, but a tunnel, leading through to some
+underwater world. That series of sub-sea earthquakes probably opened
+it up; and now these devil-octopi are free to pour out. I've _got_ to
+find out what's what, and that's why I'm going down again as soon as
+the torpedo system's ready!"
+
+Keith and Robert Knapp were in the _Falcon's_ chart room. On the table
+before them lay a broad white map with a cross-mark indicating the
+position of the mysterious dark cavern.
+
+Wells was striding up and down like a caged tiger in his impatience to
+be off. Every other minute he glared down to where the _NX-1_ lay
+alongside. On her conning tower stood the tall blond-haired figure of
+Graham, the first officer of the day shift, supervising the final
+details of the work of installing a system of jury controls whereby
+the submarine's torpedoes could be fired from her control room.
+
+Keith stopped short and faced Knapp. "It won't be so one-sided this
+time, Bob," he promised. "You see: when the location chart shows the
+enemy ship, I'll rush all men into the control room, where the
+paralyzing ray can't harm them. I don't know but what they have in
+other weapons, but I'm gambling on getting my torps in first. They've
+killed Bowman; they've ravaged a whole fishing fleet; they're free to
+emerge from their hole and maraud every ocean on the globe! They've
+got to be stopped! And since I'm armed and have the only submarine on
+the spot, I've got to do it! I know how to fight them now!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Robert Knapp's sense of things was badly disordered. He had
+just heard a story which his common sense told him couldn't be true,
+but which the evidence of his eyes had grimly authenticated. He had
+seen fifteen men slung aboard his ship from the _NX-1's_ silent hull;
+men stretched in grotesque, limp attitudes; men struck down by a
+paralyzing ray. Why, no nation on earth had developed rays for
+warfare! Yet--a crew of helpless men was even then in the sick bay,
+receiving attention in the hope that they might recover.
+
+"You're going right through that cavern, then, Wells?" he asked
+incredulously. "You're going to investigate what lies beyond?"
+
+"Nothing else! And I won't come out till I've blown that octopi ship
+to pieces!"
+
+"It sounds preposterous," Knapp murmured, shaking his head. "Octopi,
+you say--and clad in metal suits! Running a submarine more powerful
+than the _NX-1_! Armed with a ray--a paralyzing ray! I can't
+believe--I can't conceive--"
+
+"You've seen the men!... Knapp, if I were you I'd swing my
+eight-inchers out, bring up the plane catapult and keep the deck
+torpedo tubes loaded and ready. It's best to be prepared; God knows
+what's going on underseas these days!"
+
+First Officer Graham appeared at the door. "Work finished, sir," he
+said. "Ready to cast off."
+
+"Thank heaven!" Wells muttered, and stretched out his hand to Robert
+Knapp. "Broadcast what I've told you, Bob, and say that the _NX-1_
+won't be back till everything's under control. I'll keep in touch with
+you. So long!" And he was gone before the captain could even wish him
+good luck.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Orders raced from her commander's fingers on the stud board in the
+control room. "Crash Dive" filled her tanks and put her nose
+perilously down, so that in thirty seconds only a swirling patch of
+water was left to show where once she'd lain. A brief command to the
+helmsman and she pointed straight for the dark cavern marked on the
+chart.
+
+When well under way, Keith descended with Graham to inspect the new
+torpedo firing system, and found it in good working order. "Graham,"
+he ordered tersely, "instruct the crew fully about rushing to the
+control room on one ring of the general alarm. And send the cook up to
+me in a minute or so. I'll be in Sparks' cubby."
+
+Above again, he instructed the radio man to rig a remote control
+sender and receiver in the insulated control room. The need for
+centering the whole crew there during engagements would crowd the room
+awkwardly, but at other times, while proceeding on their inspection of
+the cavern lair, they could remain at their regular posts.
+
+That, at least, was Wells' plan.
+
+He looked up and found the cook, McKegnie, grinning at him from the
+door of the control room. Keith smiled, running his eyes over the
+portly magnificence of his gently perspiring figure. "Keg," he said
+cheerfully, "I want you to move your hot plate and culinary apparatus
+up here; you see, we're all likely to be crowded in here for some
+time, and your coffee's going to be an absolute necessity." He
+couldn't resist a crack at McKegnie's well-known and passionate
+curiosity as to what made the thigmajigs of the control board work:
+"And besides, it'll give you a chance to observe the instruments and
+perfect yourself for your future career as a naval officer. Much
+better than a correspondence course in 'How to Be a Submarine
+Commander,' eh?"
+
+Cook McKegnie grinned sheepishly, and left. He was well used to such
+jests, but he never would admit that his extraordinary interest in
+watching the ship's wheels go round was accompanied by a miraculous
+inability to comprehend why they went round....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fifteen minutes later the helmsman's cry, "Cavern showing, sir!" swung
+the commander to the teleview screen. The dark, kelp-shrouded opening
+he knew so well was already looming on it. And he was prepared.
+
+"Enter," he said, while his punched studs ordered, "Quarter Speed,
+Ready at Posts, Tanks in Trim." The _NX-1_ slackened her gait,
+balanced cautiously, and struck a straight, even course as she crept
+closer to the cleft entrance through which, some two hours earlier,
+the octopi ship had nosed.
+
+Screws turning slowly, she edged through the jagged cavern. Shades of
+inky blackness grew on the teleview and danced in fantastic blotches;
+the screen turned to a welter of black, threatening shadows; became a
+useless maze of ever-changing forms. Keith mouthed curses as he stared
+at it; he now had nothing by which to judge his progress, to maneuver
+the submarine, save directional instruments and, perhaps, chance
+scrapings of the tunnel's ragged walls against the outer hull. The
+_NX-1_ was running a gauntlet of immeasurable danger, her only
+assurance of success being the fact that a larger craft had preceded
+her.
+
+But how far, Keith wondered, had that ship preceded her? How was he to
+know that it had gone straight through? There might be a dozen
+different turnings in this tunnel: the submarine could easily tilt
+head-on against a jagged rock and puncture her hull. There might be
+mines planted directly in their course; he might be swimming straight
+into some hideous ambuscade.
+
+He drove these thoughts from his mind. The passage had to be made on
+the fickle authority of the senses; and, realizing this, Wells took
+the helm into his own hands. Graham was posted at the location chart,
+with instructions to report the red light if it showed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Down below, the Edsel electrics were humming very softly; the men
+stood vigilantly at posts. On their brows were little beads of sweat,
+and here and there a hand clenched nervously. All knew they were in a
+tight place; otherwise they were ignorant of where their commander was
+leading them. Occasionally a long, shivering rasp ran through the ship
+as her hull nudged the rough tunnel wall. Then the course rudders
+would swing gently over; and perhaps, almost immediately, another
+grinding cry of rock and steel would come from the other side. Then
+would come quickly indrawn breaths as the rudders swung again and the
+humming silence droned on.
+
+The scrapings came quite often. Often, too, the motors would go silent
+altogether, and the _NX-1_ would rest almost motionless as her
+commander felt for an opening. It was a tense, nerve-wringing ordeal.
+The silence, the waiting, the dainty scrapings were maddening.
+
+Keith Wells' skin was prickling. He kept only fingertips on the tiny
+helm: he was playing that uncanny sixth sense of the submarine
+commander. When it misled him, the rasping rock groaned out, scarring
+the submarine's smooth skin. Generally, the tunnel was straight; but
+each time he heard his ship rub against some exterior obstruction, his
+teeth went tight--for who knew but what it might be a mine?
+
+They had penetrated perhaps a half-mile when Graham, eyes steady on
+the teleview, reported: "Light growing, sir!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells saw that the screen was filling with a soft, faintly glowing
+bluish color. The walls of the tunnel became visible, and he noted
+that they were widening out, funnel-like. He dared to increase speed
+slightly. Three minutes later he saw that the blue illumination was
+seeping from the end of the tunnel. They continued out.
+
+"Thank God, we're through!" he muttered to Graham. "You see, I was
+right! It's an underground sea--and we're at the top of it." For the
+instruments indicated a depth beneath them of roughly three miles.
+They were in, evidently, a large cavern, of vast length and depth.
+
+The _NX-1_ continued slowly forward, two pairs of eyes intent on her
+teleview screen. Keith jotted down the tunnel's position, and the
+funnel-shaped hole sank away behind their slow screws. And then, upon
+the location chart, a faint red dot suddenly glowed!
+
+It was upon them in a flash. A small tube of metal, shaped somewhat in
+the form of the big octopi submarine, had darted up from below,
+hovered a second close to them, and then, almost before they realized
+they were being surveyed, sped back into the mysterious depths from
+which it had come.
+
+"A lookout, I suppose," Keith muttered, breathing more easily.
+"Couldn't have held more than two of those creatures.... Well, the
+alarm's out, I guess, Graham, but it can't be helped. Let's see what
+it's like down below."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They plunged steadily down, then ahead. And presently there grew on
+the teleview vague forms which widened their eyes and made their
+breath come quicker. Keith had guessed the tunnel led to a
+civilization of some kind, but he was not prepared for the sight that
+loomed hazily through the soft blue water.
+
+Strange, moundlike shapes appeared far below, mounds grouped in
+orderly rows and clusters, with streets running between them, thronged
+with tiny, spidery dots. Octopi! It was, the commander realized, a
+city of the monsters--a complete city like those of surface peoples!
+For several miles in every direction the water-city spread out,
+farther than the teleview could pierce. Wells marveled at this
+separately developed civilization, this deep-buried realm of octopi
+whose unexpected intellectual powers had permitted such development.
+Perhaps, he pondered, this city was only one of many; perhaps only a
+village. He could but vaguely glimpse the queer mound buildings, but
+saw that they were of varying height and were filled with dark round
+entrance holes, through which the creatures streamed on their
+different errands....
+
+He saw no schools of fish around. "I guess they're been all killed
+off, or eaten," he commented to the wonder-struck Graham. "Probably
+the octopi have separate hatcheries where they raise them for food."
+
+"But--good Lord!" the first officer exclaimed. "A city--a city like
+ours! Down here, filled with octopi!..."
+
+"Yes," answered Wells grimly, "and this 'city' may only be a small
+settlement; there may be scores of these places. We'd better continue
+ahead now that we're here; for we've got to get all the information we
+can. I only hope these monsters haven't more than one big submarine.
+We can expect an attack any minute...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The _NX-1_ pressed on. The city dropped behind. A breathless tenseness
+had settled down over the submarine; she was proceeding with utmost
+caution, her anxious officers alert at the location chart. The great
+fear that tormented them was that they might be attacked, not by one,
+but by a fleet of the octopi ships....
+
+Then, at the rim of the chart, a red dot appeared! It grew rapidly,
+charging down on them at great speed. The spot was large; this was no
+small sentry boat! At once the alarm bell shrilled its warning; the
+crew below left their posts and raced to the control room. With sure
+mechanical fingers the emergency system gripped the valve handles and
+motor levers; Keith swung the _NX-1_ onto a level keel, straightened
+her out, and decreased speed still more. Giving the rods of the motor
+and rudder controls to Graham, he moved to the small lever which would
+unleash his bow torpedoes, and fingered it lightly. The _NX-1_ was
+ready for action.
+
+Scarcely had the men reached the small control room than the familiar
+electric charge tingled. They stared wonderingly at each other, half
+afraid. No one seemed hurt. One hand on the torpedo lever, Wells
+watched his charts and instruments. He thanked God that there was only
+one of the enemy.
+
+The ray's shock came again--and stronger. The red dot was practically
+upon them. The screen was still empty. Coolly, Keith slowed the
+submarine to a dead stop. The crimson stud came closer....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And then he saw it. It was the same fearsome, hulking form. The same
+curving windows, dark and lifeless. The same knobs on its bow, one now
+leaping and pulsing with the paralyzing glow. At a distance of a few
+hundred feet the octopi ship swerved to a halt, dousing the NX-1 with
+its ray unceasingly. Again those two underwater craft, so oddly
+contrasted, were face to face. And again the weapon that had once
+struck the American ship's crew down at their posts was directed full
+onto the _NX-1_.
+
+But it was harmless! It merely tingled, and did not paralyze! The
+control room sheathing held it out stoutly. The men's faces showed
+overwhelming relief.
+
+Keith smiled grimly. Now, at least, he had the devils where he wanted
+them; now it was his turn to strike with a--to them--terrible,
+mysterious weapon. They had attacked; had failed--and now he could
+square up for Hemmy and send a pair of torpedoes into that ship of
+hideous tentacles.
+
+"Port five!" The ship swerved slightly. "Hold even!" The enemy craft
+was very close. The _NX-1's_ bow tubes were sighted in direct line.
+Her torpedoes could not possibly miss. This time, destruction for the
+octopi ship was inevitable....
+
+Keith Wells gripped the lever that held the torps in leash.
+
+"_Wait!_"
+
+Sparks, a bare foot from him, yelled out the word. Wells, alarmed,
+released his grip on the knob. The radio operator was listening
+intently, a circle of taut faces around his crouched back. He swung
+excitedly around.
+
+"For God's sake, don't fire!" he cried. "Hemingway Bowman's on that
+submarine! He's alive--and calling for you!"
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+_The Other Weapon_
+
+Bowman--alive!
+
+Keith Wells let go the torpedo lever. His whole orderly plan of action
+was crashed in a second.--For an instant he stood gaping at the radio
+man, forgetful of the peril outside, striving desperately to hit on
+some way of surmounting this unlooked-for obstacle. The idea of firing
+on his friend--killing Hemmy Bowman with his own hand--paralyzed his
+brain.
+
+And in that unguarded instant the octopi struck.
+
+From the bow of the enemy submarine, slanting from another of its
+peculiar knobs, a narrow beam of violet light poured, cutting a vivid
+swathe across the teleview. The huddled men stared at it, not
+comprehending what it was. They felt no shock of electricity, nor
+could they discern any other harmful effect. The ray held steadily on
+their bow, not varying in the slightest, for a full thirty seconds.
+And still none of them could feel or see any damage.
+
+Wells, however, gradually became aware that he was bathed in
+perspiration, that great streams of sweat were coursing down his
+face. A quick glance told him that every member of the crew was the
+same way; and then, suddenly, he was conscious of a wave of intense
+heat--heat which quickly became terrific. The control room was
+stifling!
+
+Before he could act, the _NX-1_ slipped sharply to one side. A sharp
+hissing sound grew at her bow, climbing steadily to a shriek. Long
+streamers of white steam crept along the lower deck and seeped up into
+the control room. And then rose the fatal sound of rushing
+water--water pouring into the submarine from outside!
+
+For the violet beam was a heat ray--a weapon surface civilizations had
+not yet developed. While the _NX-1's_ crew had stared at it in the
+teleview, it had melted a hole in their bow.
+
+Immediately the submarine lost trim, and the deck tilted ominously. In
+the face of material danger--danger from a source he understood--the
+commander became cool and methodical.
+
+"Sea-suits on!" he snapped. "Then forward and break out steel
+collision-mat and weld it in place! Every man! You, too, Sparks and
+McKegnie!"
+
+"But--but, sir!" stammered Graham. "Do you want them to get us with
+their paralyzing ray?"
+
+"You'd rather drown?" Wells flung back. Silenced, the first officer
+donned his sea-suit, and in thirty seconds the rest of the crew had
+theirs on and were cluttering clumsily forward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Alone in the control room, Keith battled with the unbalancing flow of
+water, maneuvering with all his skill in a futile attempt to keep the
+_NX-1_ on even keel. The men forward worked with great speed, spurred
+on by the realization that they were fighting death itself, but even
+as they labored the submarine swung in ever increasing rolls and dips;
+the great weight of water she had shipped slopped back and forth; her
+bow went steadily down. Keith swept her forward tanks clean of water,
+always conscious of the immobile, staring octopi submarine in the
+teleview, watching them, it seemed, curiously, and not driving home
+their advantage with additional bolts of the violet heat ray.
+
+Despite her commander's frantic efforts, the _NX-1_ fluttered down
+remorselessly; the cavern floor rose, and, sinking with them, came the
+octopi craft, in slow mockery of a fighting plane pursuing its
+stricken foe to the very ground....
+
+She struck bottom with a soft, thudding jar, and settled on even keel.
+At once Wells released the helm, jumped into his own sea-suit and
+stumbled down to take command.
+
+He found the steel collision-mat in place, and the welding of it
+nearly completed. A few feathery trickles of water still seeped
+through on each side, but under his terse directions the pumps were
+soon draining it out. The weird figures of the crew in their sea-suits
+looked like creatures from another planet as they rapidly finished the
+job.
+
+"All right--up to the control room, everybody! Fast!" Wells roared.
+
+The men stumbled aft as rapidly as they could in their cumbersome
+suits. Several were already on the ladder. A few feet further--
+
+But at that moment the paralyzing ray again stabbed into the ship--and
+Keith Wells slumped helplessly to the deck. And as he crumpled, he
+glimpsed the grotesque, falling figures of his men, and saw one come
+tumbling down the ladder from the control room, where he had almost
+reached safety....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Peculiar sensations, unendurable thoughts raced through the commander
+as he lay there limply. He knew his predicament. He wanted desperately
+to rise, to rush to the control room. Time and time again in those
+first few moments of impotence he strove mightily to pull his limbs
+back to life. But his greatest efforts were barren of result, save to
+leave him feeling still weaker. The fate that he had seen strike down
+Brown now enmeshed him. He was paralyzed. Helpless. In the midst of
+his crew.
+
+After a moment all sensation left his body. His limbs might not have
+existed. Sensation, pain, lived only in his brain--and there it was
+terrible, because self-created.
+
+He found himself sprawled flat on his back, his eyes directed stiffly
+upward. He could not move them, but out of the corners he vaguely
+sensed the other figures around him. Helpless, every one! And who knew
+if they would ever come out of the spell! Victory had gone to the
+octopi....
+
+Minutes that seemed like hours passed. And then a well-remembered
+voice sounded in the radio earphones in his helmet. It was Hemmy
+Bowman, speaking from the enemy ship.
+
+"Keith! Keith Wells! Are you there?" the voice cried. "Keith! What
+have they done to you?"
+
+And Keith, he could not answer! He could not answer that troubled
+voice of his friend--that voice from a friend he had thought dead.
+
+Again Bowman spoke. "Keith! Can't you hear me? What are they doing to
+you? Oh--" For a moment it stopped, then came once more, thick with
+anguish. "Oh, God, what's happened?" Then lower: "If only there were
+light, so I could see what they're doing...." The voice tapered into
+silence. Keith could picture Hemmy, probably bound, giving him up for
+dead....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then, quite distinctly, he heard a clank at the _NX-1's_ bow! The
+submarine jerked, her bow tilted up--and with increasing speed she
+moved forward, silently as a ghost.
+
+Keith thought he knew what that meant. The octopi ship had grasped
+them with another of its hawser arms, and was pulling them away. But
+where to? One of those mound cities? His brain was a turmoil as he
+tried to imagine what was before them. But all he could do was lie
+there and wait.
+
+The American craft was towed for perhaps ten minutes--ten ages to her
+commander--then coasted slowly to a pause, and with a sharp jar
+settled into rest. As she did so, every light in her hull went
+suddenly out.
+
+It had been bad enough with the lights on, but the darkness was far
+worse. The submarine was a tomb--as silent as one, and full of men who
+lived and yet were dead. Hemmy Bowman's voice came no more to Wells.
+He was alone with his moiling doubts and fears and unanswerable
+questions, and he knew that every other man there was alone with them,
+too....
+
+As his eyes became partially accustomed to the darkness, he could
+distinguish vaguely the forms of the familiar mechanisms above him. A
+slight noise grew suddenly and resolved itself into a prolonged
+scraping along the outer hull of the submarine. At intervals it paused
+and gave way to a series of sharp, definite taps.
+
+Keith realized what those sounds signified: the octopi were striving
+to find some entrance to the _NX-1_! This, he told himself, was the
+end. The creatures would break through; water would rush in, and every
+man would drown. For the face-shields of their sea-suits were open!
+
+The dull scrapings ran completely around the motionless submarine,
+punctuated with the same staccato tappings. By the movement of the
+sound, Wells realized the octopi were approaching the lower starboard
+exit port. And as they neared that port, the noise abruptly stopped.
+
+Then for some minutes silence fell. Next, the commander heard what was
+unmistakably the exit port's water chamber being filled--and a moment
+later emptied again. The devilish creatures had solved the puzzle of
+the means of entrance!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the awful darkness the inner door of the port swung open. A slow,
+slithering sound came to Wells' ears. He sensed, though he could not
+see, the presence of alien creature. An odor struck his nostrils--that
+of fish....
+
+A deliberate something crawled directly across one outstretched arm,
+and another across his legs. And above him loomed a monstrous,
+complicated shadow, which, after a moment, slowly melted from his line
+of vision. Panicky, he strove again to bring his limbs back to life,
+but still could not....
+
+Keith knew that in the darkness which their huge unblinking eyes could
+penetrate they were inspecting the _NX-1's_ interior, examining the
+men stretched on its deck, feeling them with their cold metal-scaled
+tentacles. Another complicated shadow crept back over the commander's
+line of sight, and from all around rose the slithering, shuffling
+tread of the octopi's many tentacles, rasping on the steel flooring.
+
+Sweat from Wells' forehead trickled down and stung his eyes as he lay
+in that dark agony. There seemed to be countless investigating
+tentacles feeling through the entire submarine. One of them,
+iron-hard, suddenly coiled under his armpit and lifted him lightly as
+a feather from the deck. Another snaked up and clicked his face-shield
+securely shut. Keith heard other clicks, and knew that the shields of
+his men were likewise being closed.
+
+The commander was held straight out from the octopus' revolting body,
+and as he swung, helpless, he could see that more men were grasped
+similarly in other mighty arms. Dangling in the shadow-filled darkness
+he was carried slowly to the exit port, and he heard the inner door
+swing open, then close again. Water streamed through the valves; it
+encompassed him with a feeling of lightness, a feeling of floating, as
+he swung at the end of the long metal-sheathed tentacles. A moment
+later a soft bluish glow burst on his vision, and he saw that he was
+outside. There was a long wait, and when the current next swung him
+around he was dismayed to see that every one of the monstrous
+creatures near him was dangling on high two or three men of his
+helpless crew. The whole outfit was in the power of the devil-fish!
+
+And then their captors moved forward with them on a ghastly march of
+triumph....
+
+But Keith Wells did not know that, crouched behind the instrument
+panel in the control room, shivering and sick with fear, was the plump
+form of Cook Angus McKegnie, who had just gained it just before the
+paralyzing ray had struck.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+_The Monster with the Armlets of Gold_
+
+Hemingway Bowman's ardent wish, after he was whipped quickly through
+the round exit port of the octopi submarine, was for a quick, clean
+death. The horror and mystery of his situation had left him with one
+conscious emotion, that he was afraid. The worst had been when he was
+hauled through the port; when, expecting anything, he had been able to
+see nothing in the dark, water-filled mystery ship.
+
+Deliberate tentacles had stroked over every inch of his
+body--tentacles that were not metal-scaled, as had been the arms of
+the creature that captured him. It was then that he guessed the true
+purpose of the metal suits the octopi wore--to protect their bodies
+against the lesser pressure near the surface of the sea. Inside the
+submarine they did not need them. He decided that the ship was used
+for rapidly transporting large numbers of the octopi to distant
+regions, and also for a weapon of offense and defense. The
+intelligence of the cuttlefish astounded him.
+
+Keith had got away. At least he knew that, and he thanked God for it.
+His bold stroke had not been in vain, his sacrifice not useless.
+
+After the inspection of the tentacles, Hemmy had been shoved to a
+corner of the octopi submarine. He had felt cords wrapped around his
+body. After being thus secured, he was left to himself. He was utterly
+alone, except for strange, vague shadows that floated through the
+darkness--shadows that heated his brain as he realized how many of
+the devil-fish there were.
+
+Hours that seemed like endless days passed.
+
+Bowman concluded that the submarine had gone straight through the
+cavern and emerged finally into what seemed to be another sea. Dead
+silence filled the ship. What was happening, he could only guess. The
+craft seemed to run on forever. Never once did tentacles brush or
+inspect him again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Finally the ship stopped, and a great round door opened in one wall.
+By the soft bluish glow that seeped in Hemmy caught a glimpse of his
+surroundings, and his gorge rose at the sight. The ship was literally
+filled with a slowly waving forest of long black tentacles. Weird
+instruments, unlike anything he had ever seen, were grouped around the
+walls, and before them attendant octopi poised, their hideous eyes
+fixed and steady. There were no dividing decks as in the _NX-1_; the
+craft was one huge shell.
+
+Then came furious activity. The door fell shut again, and the ship
+shot off at great speed. Hemmy felt sure that they were advancing to
+again attack the _NX-1_, and at once began to try to reach his
+comrades through radiophone. He knew that Wells would come back.
+
+Finally he caught a human voice, and heard the _NX-1's_ radio operator
+shout to the commander that he, Bowman, was alive and calling. But
+when he tried to speak further, the American craft's radio was silent.
+
+And then, in the octopi submarine, had come a soft glow of violet....
+
+Was it a more deadly weapon than the paralyzing ray? In great suspense
+the prisoner waited. Silence--silence! Horrible doubts beset his mind.
+Was Keith refraining from firing his torpedoes because he, Bowman, was
+on board the enemy boat? The thought stung him. He tried desperately
+again to reach Wells; but there was no answer. Were the Americans
+dead?
+
+Age-long minutes passed. Then the exit port opened and several
+metal-clad octopi swam out. Hemmy had a glimpse of the _NX-1_ lying
+silent and apparently lifeless on the sea-floor, a gaping hole in her
+bow!
+
+As if to taunt him with the sight, the creatures left the round door
+open, and presently Bowman beheld the octopi open the _NX-1's_
+starboard exit port and enter. Later the port swung open again, and he
+saw the monsters emerge, each gripping several men clad in yellow
+sea-suits! That they were dead, or victims of the ray, was obvious
+from the way they limply dangled.
+
+The exit port closed, and darkness filled the octopi ship. Hemmy
+Bowman panted with the futile effort to break his bonds.
+
+"You devils!" he yelled in blind rage, exhausted. "Why don't you take
+me with them? Take me! Take me, damn your stinking hides!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Keith Wells was taken from the silent _NX-1_, a host of
+astounding impressions swarmed his brain. Swinging lightly at the end
+of his captor's tentacle, he strove as best he could, with eyes
+rigidly fixed straight ahead, to grasp his new surroundings. He had,
+first, one flash of the octopi ship lying quite close to them, its
+hulk, as always, immobile and apparently lifeless. And inside it, he
+was sure, was his friend and first officer, Hemmy Bowman--a captive.
+
+He saw that the octopi submarine had towed the _NX-1_ into one of the
+weird mound cities. His own ship was lying in what seemed a kind of
+public square, and crowds of black octopi were swarming around it as
+he and his crew were brought out. Shooting straight off the square ran
+one of the wide streets he had previously seen from above, and on each
+side the brown mound-buildings rose. Their details were hazy, because
+of the cuttlefish inhabitants who swam thickly in front of them.
+
+His captors started their march down this broad street. Great crowds
+of reddish-colored octopi clustered on each side of it; other swarms
+hung almost motionless--except for their constantly writhing
+tentacles--above, so that their line of progress was through what
+resembled a restless, living tunnel of repulsive black flesh, snaky
+arms and huge, unblinking eyes. Keith felt faint from the horror of
+it. Thousands of the monsters were there, all hanging in the soft,
+blue-glowing water; and occasionally, as he floated almost
+horizontally in his captor's firm grip, his legs would brush the wall
+of clammy flesh; or perhaps one of the tentacles would reach out as if
+to touch him.
+
+The octopus that held him swam some five feet off the street bed
+itself; at intervals the thick swarm on either side would part for a
+second, and Keith could glimpse the huge mound-buildings, ever growing
+larger, with round entrance holes dotted all over their smooth
+surface, above as well as the sides.
+
+The march was ghastly. Their captors were taking them through the
+heart of the water-metropolis; displaying their human captives as did
+the Caesars in Roman triumphs of old!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The swarming crowds of tentacled monsters grew thicker as they
+progressed, and their tentacles began to whip more quickly, as if
+anger was burning in their loathsome bodies. Keith noted the menace of
+their sharp-beaked jaws, and the sickening sucker-discs on the livid
+under-side of the tentacles. As far as he could see, the swarms fell
+in behind the procession after it had passed. Following them--where?
+
+Just as Wells felt himself on the verge of fainting, the procession
+turned to the right and entered the largest mound-building of all, a
+vast dome rising in the very center of the octopi metropolis. They
+continued through a corridor perhaps twenty feet high, from which at
+intervals other corridors branched. Held by one arm, and ever and
+again turning helplessly over in his horizontal transit, Keith caught
+glimpses of walls covered with intricate designs on a basic
+eight-armed motif--designs of artistic value, that gave evidence of
+culture and civilization.
+
+The passage ended as suddenly as it had begun, and they came into the
+main body of a gigantic building.
+
+The commander could hardly credit his eyes. The place resembled a
+stadium, and was so vast that he felt dwarfed to nothingness. The
+domed roof soared far above in misty bluish light. On the floor,
+exactly beneath the center of the great dome, was a raised platform,
+and on it a dais resembling a very wide throne. Around the dais a
+score or more of octopi--officials, Keith supposed--were grouped.
+
+Rapidly the creatures following the procession swam into the chamber.
+Monstrously large as the place was, the floor soon was filled with the
+thick flood of cuttlefish which swarmed in from many doors. Keith,
+held with the other captives just to one side of the hole he had
+entered by, began to think that they must soon refuse to let any more
+in--when, to his surprise, he saw the latest arrivals begin to form a
+gallery twenty feet above those on the ground floor, and, when this
+was extended far back and completely filled, start yet another above
+it--and another, and another.... In ten minutes the mighty hall was
+crowded with countless layers of the cold-eyed monsters, each layer
+angling up from the central dais so that all could see.
+
+"God!" the commander thought. "Nothing but solidly-packed devil-fish
+all the way to the dome! A slaughter pit! And we, of course, are to be
+the cattle!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Minutes passed. The throne was still empty, and the thousands in the
+amphitheater seemed waiting for an occupant. Keith wished he was able
+to close his eyes. The restless, never-ceasing weaving of the
+countless tentacles in the levels above made the scene a nightmare.
+Some waved slowly, others whipped excitedly, but never for an instant
+did one pause. The movements were like the never-ceasing shifting and
+swaying of the trunks and feet of elephants; in the dim glow the huge
+chamber seemed to be filled with one fantastic, million-tentacled
+monster that stared with its thousand eyes down on the forlorn group
+of puny human beings....
+
+As if at a command the arms of the octopi on the platform suddenly
+began to weave in perfect unison in some weird ceremony. First they
+swayed out towards the waiting captives, then they swerved slowly to
+the empty throne. Then came a few quick, excited whippings; and once
+more the long arms reached out at the small group at the entrance.
+This went on for some minutes. Then, very suddenly, a creature swam up
+from what must have been an opening in the floor onto the dais-throne.
+
+Keith saw it well.
+
+It was an octopus, a giant amongst octopi, and Wells knew at once it
+was the ruler of the realm, the lord and master of the swarming
+galleries and the cities of mound-buildings.
+
+It was larger than its fellows by a full three feet. And, encircling
+each great tentacle just where it joined the central mass of flesh,
+was a broad, glittering band of polished gold--eight thick armlets
+that ringed the creature's revolting head-body with a circle of
+gleaming pagan splendor. Keith could almost fancy that a certain royal
+air hung over the monster.
+
+The huge, unblinking eyes of the king stared at the horror-frozen
+captives. One long tentacle lifted slowly upward, and their captors at
+once started towards the throne with them. The score of octopi on each
+side stilled their weaving arms. A battery of emotionless eyes drilled
+into Wells' paralyzed body. He felt faint. Unquestionably the horrible
+ceremony was leading up to some form of cold-blooded sacrifice....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The monarch stretched a mighty arm towards Keith, and, as in a dream,
+he felt himself lifted out of his guard's grasp. The snakelike
+tentacle gripped him about the waist, and held him dangling like a
+puppet twenty feet in the water while the two deadly eyes stared
+steadily at him. He was brought closer, until the hideous central
+mass, with its cruel beaked jaw and ink sac hanging behind, was no
+more than a foot away.
+
+Then another arm stroked slowly along the commander's helpless body.
+Once or twice it prodded sharply, and Wells felt a surge of fear, for
+his sea-suit might break. Deliberately the prying tentacle moved over
+him, delicately feeling his helmet, his weighted feet, his legs.
+
+Keith Wells grew angry. He was being inspected like a trapped monkey!
+He, commander of the _NX-1_, representative of one of the world's
+mightiest nations--prodded and stared at by this fish, this octopus! A
+great rage suffused him, and with a terrific effort he tried to jab
+his arms into one of those devilish eyes. But try as he might, his
+body would not respond. He could not move a finger.
+
+For a long time the loathsome inspection continued, until the
+monstrous king seemed satisfied. Wells was handed back. There followed
+an interminable period in which nothing whatever was done, as far as
+he could see. He was sure that they must be talking, debating, but no
+sound reached his ears through the tight helmet. All the time the
+endless motion in the swarming levels above went on. It became hazy,
+dreamlike, and in spite of himself the commander began to feel drowsy.
+The weaving and swaying was producing a hypnotic effect. At last the
+desire to sleep grew overpowering.
+
+Wells and his men were more than half unconscious when their original
+captors finally pulled them back from the royal presence and began a
+humble retreat from the throne room. Slowly they backed to the
+entrance. Keith's last drowsy glimpse was of a grotesque, gold-ringed
+monster on a throne, with a score of smaller tentacled creatures
+around him, and a vast haze of weaving tentacles and unblinking eyes
+above.
+
+They passed from the huge chamber. The commander felt delirious, as in
+a nightmare, but he knew that they were again in the long corridor,
+and that their captors were taking them further into the mighty
+building, further from the street outside. He glimpsed great rooms
+branching off the corridor, and swarms of black octopi inside them.
+The light became fainter; and at last the procession turned into a
+separate, rough-walled chamber, dimly lit and empty.
+
+Wells felt the grip around his arm loosen, and he floated limply to
+the floor among his men. He slept....
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+_The Glass Bell Jar_
+
+Keith awoke hours later.
+
+Slowly he became conscious of a cramped, stiff body, of a dull pain
+racking his head. He stretched out his limbs--and, suddenly, realized
+he could move.
+
+Remembering the paralyzing ray that had struck him down, and half
+afraid that his senses were tricking him, he kicked his left leg out.
+It moved with its old vigor. He quickly found that his strength had
+returned, that he could feel and move. The effect of the ray had worn
+off!
+
+With a glow of new hope he rose to his feet and exercised numb
+muscles. Looking around, he saw the other men still stretched out on
+the floor of their rough-walled, watery prison. He called into his
+radiophone mouthpiece:
+
+"Graham! Graham, wake up!" A grotesque figure stirred among its
+fellows; turned over. "It's Wells, Graham," Keith continued. "Get up;
+you can, now!" And he watched the form of his big first officer
+stretch out and finally rise, while stupid, sleepy sounds came to his
+radio receiver.
+
+"Why--why; the paralysis is gone!" Graham said at length.
+
+"Yes, but maybe the octopi don't know it. Rouse the other men at once,
+and we'll see what we can do."
+
+It was weird, the sight of the lifeless figures of the men stirring to
+life in the dim-lit water as Graham shook each one's shoulder. The
+radiophones buzzed and clicked with their excited comments and
+ejaculations. Keith felt much better. With his men restored to
+strength, and clustered in a determined, hard-fighting mass, he saw a
+hope of breaking out and regaining the _NX-1_.
+
+He let them exercise as he had for some minutes, then proceeded to a
+brisk roll-call. There should be fifteen men and two officers. Rapidly
+Graham ran over the names, and each time a voice rang back in
+reply--until he came to the cook.
+
+"McKegnie?... Cook McKegnie?"
+
+There was no answer. Wells stared around the group of dim figures and
+himself called the name again. But McKegnie was not present. And as
+the commander and his men realized it the numbing spell of their
+desperate position settled down on them again like a shroud.
+
+Keith shook off the mood. "Well," he muttered, "I guess the devils got
+him. Poor McKegnie's seen the wheels go round for the last time....
+All right: take command, Graham. I'm going to do a little
+reconnoitering."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The round entrance hole was some fifteen feet from him, at the far end
+of the cell. Keith advanced cautiously to it, the peculiar light
+feeling the water gave him making his steps uncertain. The dim blue
+illumination made the details of the corridor outside hazy, shadowy,
+but it seemed to be empty. Peering out, Wells could sight no guarding
+octopi. He edged closer and stared down to the left. Twenty feet away
+the vague light tapered into darker gloom, filled with thick, wavering
+shadows; but it was apparently devoid of tentacles. He wondered if
+the octopi were unaware that the effects of their ray had worn off,
+and peeped cautiously around the edge to the right.
+
+Immediately a long arm whipped out, grasped him around the waist and
+flung him twisting and turning back into the chamber. Graham
+laboriously made his way to the commander and helped him to his feet.
+"Hurt, sir?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"No," Keith gasped. "But that devil--"
+
+He stopped short. The first officer turned and followed his
+commander's stare.
+
+The entrance hole of the cell had filled with a monstrous shape. A
+huge octopus was resting there, its unblinking eyes coldly surveying
+the crew of the _NX-1_. On each of its thick tentacles was a broad
+band of polished gold. It was the king, the same creature that had
+inspected them from the throne-dais a few hours before. And behind him
+in the corridor the men glimpsed another octopus.
+
+Slowly the ruler of the octopi swam into the chamber. Its great eyes
+centered icily on Keith Wells, standing at the head of his cowering
+men; and its mighty tentacles waved slowly, gracefully, as if the
+creature stood in doubt. One of them tentatively reached out and
+hovered over their heads, moving uncertainly back and forth. Then,
+like a monstrous water snake, the tentacle poised, flicked out and
+plucked a man from his comrades.
+
+His shriek of terror rasped in their earphones. "Steady, men!" Keith
+cried. "It's hopeless to try and fight them! The monster just wants to
+look him over!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The man--Williams, a petty officer--was dangled by the armpit in
+mid-water and made to slowly revolve. The tip of another huge arm
+snaked out and for some seconds stroked his body, probing curiously.
+He panted with fright, and in their earphones his friends could hear
+his every tortured exhalation. Anxiously, Keith watched. Then,
+without warning, another tentacle darted up, fastened its tip on the
+breast of the captive's sea-suit, and deliberately ripped it open.
+
+The doomed man's last scream rang in their helmets as the water poured
+into his suit. They saw him writhe and struggle desperately in the
+remorseless grip which held him. The two huge eyes of the cuttlefish
+surveyed his death throes minutely; watched his agonized struggles
+gradually weaken; watched his legs and arms relax, his head sink
+lower.... And then the tentacle let a lifeless body float to the
+floor.
+
+Jennerby, a huge engineer, went completely mad. "I'll get him, the
+devil!" he yelled, and before Keith could command him to stay back,
+had flung himself onto the giant king.
+
+Death came as a mere matter of course. Without apparent effort, the
+monarch ripped off Jennerby's helmet and sent him spinning back. The
+man's body writhed and shuddered, and in a moment another stark white
+face showed where death had struck....
+
+Trembling, sick at heart, the commander yet had to think of his men.
+"For God's sake," he cautioned them, "keep back. Don't try to fight
+now; we've got to wait our chance! Steady. Steady...."
+
+The king's deliberate tentacle again began its slow weaving. It was
+choosing another victim. And this time it darted straight out at Keith
+Wells and gripped him with a mighty clutch about the waist.
+
+The commander did not cry out. As he was brought close to the staring
+eyes, and felt their sinister gaze run over him, it flashed through
+him for some obscure reason that the monster knew him for what he was,
+the leader, from the tiny bars on each shoulder of his sea-suit.... He
+waited for the tentacles to rip it open.
+
+But they did not. Instead, the creature turned and swiftly swam with
+him out through the entrance hole.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They went to the left in the corridor, further into the heart of the
+building. The bluish light became stronger. As Keith twisted in the
+giant monarch's grip he glimpsed the other octopus following with the
+two dead men. He saved his strength knowing it was hopeless just then
+to try and struggle free.
+
+Quick as was his passage, he noticed that the walls of the corridor
+were covered with intricate designs, in bas-relief, and colored. He
+passed row after row of mural paintings of octopi in various
+activities, and guessed that they represented the race's history. One
+was obviously a scene of battle, with a tentacled army locked in
+combat with another strange horde of fishlike creatures; a second
+showed the construction of the queer mound-buildings on the sea-floor,
+with scores of monsters hauling great chunks of material into place,
+and another pictured the huge audience chamber, with a gold-banded
+king motionless on his throne.
+
+As the king drew him rapidly along, he had a glimpse through a
+circular doorway of a large room, inside which were clustered the
+black shapes of thousands of baby octopi, tended by what were
+evidently nurses. Other such rooms were passed, and the young
+commander's brain whirled as he tried to measure the size and progress
+of this undersea civilization. Perhaps the race of octopi was growing,
+reaching out; needed new room to colonize. That would explain why
+their submarine had been sent through the tunnel....
+
+A voice sounded in his ears:
+
+"Keith? Are you all right?" It was Graham, calling from the cell
+behind.
+
+"So far," Wells assured him. "I'll keep in touch, and let you know
+what happens."
+
+At that moment, his captor carried him into a large chamber at the end
+of the corridor. He looked around, and decided it was a laboratory. He
+beheld strange instruments, anatomical charts of octopi on the walls
+and, in one corner, a small jar of glass, in which a dull flame was
+burning. Many-shaped keen-bladed knives lay on various low tables, and
+thin, wicked-looking prongs and pincers.
+
+"I'm in their experimental laboratory, Graham," Wells spoke into the
+mouthpiece of his tiny radio. And then his roving eyes saw something
+that made him audibly gasp.
+
+"What's the matter, Keith?" came the first officer's anxious voice.
+
+After a moment the commander answered. "It's--it's a pile of human
+bodies. The bodies of those fishermen. They--they've been
+experimenting on them...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Was he, too, Wells wondered, to be experimented on? The sight of that
+stacked pile of bodies chilled him with horror. He kept his eyes from
+them, till the octopus with the golden bands swung him through a
+hinged door in the farther wall.
+
+He found himself in a side room, smaller than the outer chamber, the
+whole center of which was occupied by a huge glass bell jar, some
+thirty feet in diameter. Inside it was much strange-looking apparatus
+on tables, and trays of operating instruments--knives like those in
+the outer room, and the same thin prongs. The great jar was empty of
+water, and on one side was an entrance port.
+
+The king tossed Keith into a corner and quickly donned a metal-scaled
+water-suit. When he had it all on, and the glass body-container
+fastened into place, he picked up his captive again and advanced
+through the bell jar's entrance port into a small water chamber. A
+moment later Wells felt his body grow heavy as the water of the
+compartment ran out, and then there was a click and he found himself
+inside the jar, still held in the merciless grip of a tentacle.
+
+He twisted around to find the cold eyes of the octopus staring at him
+only a foot away. And as he wondered what was going to happen next,
+the king unfastened the glass face-shield of the commander's sea-suit
+with a quick flip of the tip of a tentacle.
+
+Keith's arms were pinned to his sides; he could not move to try to
+refasten the face-shield. Fearful, he held his breath; held it until
+his face was purple and his lungs were near to bursting. But at last
+the limit was reached, and with a great wrench he sucked in a full
+breath.
+
+It was clean, fresh air!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The air was like a breath of his own world brought down to this cold
+realm of octopi. Once he had caught up with his breathing it poured
+new life into his limbs, jaded from the artificial air of the
+sea-suit. Keith felt his muscles respond, felt his whole body glow
+with new strength and life. Twelve inches away the king was watching
+his every reaction closely through the huge helmet of glass. The
+thought passed through the commander's mind that he was not only king,
+but chief scientist of this strange water civilization.
+
+Then, while his lungs swallowed hungrily the good, fresh air, several
+tentacles began to feel around him in an attempt to unfasten the rest
+of his sea-suit.
+
+Wells blanched at the sudden realization of how helpless he would be
+if the suit were taken from him. He would then not only be a prisoner
+of the octopi, but a prisoner of the glass jar, unable ever to leave
+it, and more than ever at the mercy of his captor's least whim. Not
+that he had any delusion that he would live long in any case: it was
+just the simple strong instinct of self-preservation that made him
+grab at every chance for life.
+
+This thought flashed through his mind, even while the octopus was
+fumbling with the catches of his suit. And along with it was born a
+desperate plan of escape. He was in his own element, air; the octopus
+out of his. If he could crack the glass of the king's helmet, and let
+the water out and air in!... The glass was only twelve inches away.
+
+The commander stopped his resistance, and at the same time felt about
+with his legs until he had them well braced against a lower tentacle.
+He pushed gently, and came a few inches nearer the glass; a little
+more. Then, with a quick, strong jerk of his body he crashed the steel
+frame of his helmet square against the cuttlefish's sheathing of
+glass.
+
+The creature was taken wholly by surprise. Tentacles whipped out to
+tear the rash human quickly away--but not before Keith had pounded
+again, and heard the splinter of smashed glass! He had jabbed a hole
+in the glass body-piece, and already the life-giving water was pouring
+out!
+
+Panic seized the king, and he became a nightmare of tortured
+tentacles. Wells was flung wildly away and fetched up against the side
+of the jar with a crash that for a second stunned him. More and more
+water poured from the octopus' suit, and air at once rushed in to take
+its place. The creature's great eyes became filmy, while the revolting
+spidery body slewed here and there across the jar, all the time
+whipping and thrashing at the strangling air. Keith scurried from side
+to side, trying to keep out of reach of the crazy, writhing tentacles.
+Once a glancing blow knocked him flat, but the monster was altogether
+unconscious of him and he got away.
+
+Little by little the terrific whipping and coiling of the tentacles
+quieted down. The drowning king lay in one place now; its loathsome
+red body, no longer protected by glass, turned bluish. Keith thrilled
+with elation at his victory.
+
+And then, for the first time, he noticed that there was a full three
+inches of water on the floor--far too much to spill from the king's
+suit. A quick look around showed him where it came from. There was a
+long crack in the side of the glass jar, at the place where he had
+been crashed against it--and water was pouring in!
+
+Keith flung himself against the crack, jammed his arm into the
+broadest part of the leak. But still the water rushed in. The octopus
+was in its death throes, weakening steadily--but just as steadily the
+water poured in and rose up the sides of its body. In a flash Wells
+saw that the liquid would win the race to cover it and allow the
+monster to resume breathing.
+
+"Oh, damn it!" he cursed fervently. "Now I've got to run for it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He stumbled to the port, snapping shut his face-shield as he went. In
+a moment he had solved the working of the mechanism and was in the
+water chamber, then outside in the room itself. Fortunately his
+sea-suit was unhurt. He thanked heaven for that as he tore away a
+boardlike piece of apparatus and jammed it over the leak in the jar.
+
+Keith paused a moment to plan. The king of the octopi was still
+writhing in ever weakening struggles, but the water was halfway up his
+body. "It'll cover him soon," thought the commander, "and then it's a
+question how long it'll take him to come to. I've got to move
+fast--slip out into the corridor and run the gauntlet back to the
+men." His eyes rested on a large knife, and he appropriated it, since
+he saw nothing else he might use.
+
+For the first time since the beginning of the fight he answered the
+questions and exclamations that had constantly sounded in his ears
+from the distant crew. Tersely he told them what had happened, and of
+the gauntlet he had to run.
+
+"Make ready for a dash to the _NX-1_," he finished. "It's now or
+never. Wait three minutes for me, and if I don't make it, go ahead
+anyway. Remember--three minutes. This is an order. So long, fellows!"
+
+He shut his ears to the bedlam of comment that followed. His knife
+ready, he took a few steps to the door and pushed out--right into the
+tentacles of a waiting octopus.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His knife was useless. While locked motionless by three arms of his
+captor, another streaked out and wrenched it from his hand. Once again
+Keith was absolutely helpless.
+
+Great confusion resulted in the laboratory. The commander heard no
+sound, but the guard must have called, for five more octopi darted
+rapidly out of an adjoining room. Their tentacles writhing in great
+excitement, they swam past and into the inner chamber to the rescue of
+their nearly drowned king.
+
+The devil-fish that held Wells almost crushed him to death in its
+excitement. It was obviously undecided what to do; but finally it sped
+him down the passageway and cast him back inside the cell with his
+men. Then it quickly retreated.
+
+The commander staggered to his feet and faced Graham and the others.
+"A miracle!" he gasped; "I'll tell you later. But now we've got to
+make our break. The king's out, and we've got to get away before they
+bring him to. There's nothing to do but rush the door. It means sure
+death for half of us, and probably for all--but God help us if the
+king catches us!"
+
+He paused and surveyed them keenly. "Everybody with me?" he asked. And
+not one man held back his answer.
+
+Wells smiled a little. "Good!" he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were twelve men and two officers. There were thousands of
+octopi. On the face of it, their chances seemed hopeless. Not for a
+second did Keith count on getting many men to the _NX-1._ But he knew
+where the submarine was, and he had to try.
+
+Tersely he gave them final instructions.
+
+"This corridor leads to the main entrance. That is, to the
+right--understand? Then straight down the street outside, to the left,
+is the square where they towed the _NX-1._ I'd say it was a hundred
+yards.
+
+"There's one guard outside. Graham, you and half the men to the right
+of the door. I'll take the rest to the left. Our only chance is to try
+and destroy the octopus' eyes."
+
+His mind cast about desperately for some form of weapon. The only
+detachable thing on their sea-suits was the small helmet-light, a
+thing, Keith told himself, without possible offensive use. Still, the
+beams would enable them to more clearly see their path and keep
+together, so he ordered them in hand.
+
+The men were grouped and alert. The moment had come.
+
+"Remember," he said, "--its eyes. Then stick together and run like
+hell. All right--good luck--and let's go!"
+
+Awkwardly, stumbling clumsily in the retarding water, the small group
+surged through the door. Immediately a black shape pounced upon them
+from the clustered shadows--the guarding octopus.
+
+Its tentacles seemed to be everywhere. In seconds five men were
+clutched in its awful grip, their fists rising and falling impotently
+as the hideous arms constricted and crushed them inward. Keith, free
+of the clasp, yelled: "The eyes! The eyes! Put out its eyes!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For answer, a yellow arm clutching a helmet-light broke through the
+grotesquely milling mass and struck at the cuttlefish's great pools of
+eyes. It missed, but the switch flicked on, and there stabbed through
+the gloom a broad, glaringly white ray.
+
+Its effect was astounding. The beam smote the octopus squarely in its
+huge eyes, and immediately the creature shuddered; writhed with pain.
+The tentacles released the men--and the monster fled back into the
+protecting shadows!
+
+A shout from the men roared in the commander's earphones. "They can't
+stand the light!" he cried. "Thank God! Beams on, everyone! Flash 'em
+in their eyes! Forward!"
+
+Fourteen shafts of eye-dazzling light forked through the corridor.
+The tiny company, beating their path with criss-crossing shafts of
+white, forged ahead. They thrashed the shadows with their beams,
+probing each inch of water--clearing their way even as a tank hoses
+machine-gun bullets before its clumsy body. Their former slender
+chance grew; they filled with hope.
+
+Another swarm of devil-fish, long arms whipping before them, raced
+from branching corridors and bore down on the company of humans. The
+men were ready, and fourteen tongues of white met them squarely. They
+faltered; the weight of their fellows behind shoved them on; but the
+rays steadied, and the front row of octopi broke in panic. The others
+at once followed in wild retreat.
+
+"Keep together, men!" Keith ordered sharply. "One beam to each
+octopus--straight in its eyes till it retreats! Forward!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They pressed on. The octopi, with eyes used only to the soft blue glow
+of the cavern, could not stand against the brilliant rays. Keith
+leading, the _NX-1's_ crew stumbled out into the street.
+
+They faltered a moment when they saw each entrance hole of the
+mound-buildings shooting out streams of octopi. Hundreds were in sight
+already. The whole city was evidently alarmed. Wells at once formed
+his men in a circle, so their beams would guard them on every side and
+above. Apparently the octopi could not approach within thirty feet of
+them, and even at that distance they turned and fled, writhing with
+pain, whenever a shaft of light struck full in their eyes.
+
+"The square's just ahead!" the commander roared. "One last rush, now,
+and we'll reach the submarine! Stick close; keep your arms locked; and
+watch out above!"
+
+The circle of men narrowed. The rays gave their tiny cluster the
+appearance of a monster even more fantastic than those moiling around
+them--a monster with long straight tentacles of glaring white. They
+stumbled forward through the magically parting ranks of black octopi.
+The beams kept the creatures back; they were helpless before them.
+
+Foot by foot under the inverted bowl of threshing tentacles the
+_NX-1's_ crew lumbered ahead. The street at last ceased; the wide
+square opened before them.
+
+"We're here!" Wells yelled exultantly. "This is the--"
+
+His voice fell into abrupt silence. He stared around the square, and
+his heart went cold indeed. They had reached the right place, but it
+was empty.
+
+The _NX-1_ was not there!
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+_Cook, the Navigator_
+
+Through all these hours, one man had remained on the _NX-1_, and that
+man was, to put it mildly, scared to death.
+
+Cook Angus McKegnie had been nearest the connecting ladder when Keith
+Wells roared out the command to retreat above, and his desire to
+regain a place of safety was so earnest that he made the control room
+in record time. At once he had felt the tingle of the paralyzing ray.
+Struck by a horrible thought, he ventured to peer down the ladder--and
+groaned to see the figures of his comrades, all lying limply on the
+deck. His portly frame quivered like jelly as realization came to him
+that he was the only one who had escaped the ray.
+
+Heroic ideas of saving the submarine, of rescuing the men below,
+flashed wildly through his head. But only for a moment. On second
+thought, he felt he ought to hide. So, in the tomblike silence that
+had fallen, the two-hundred-and-twenty-pound McKegnie wormed a way
+behind an instrument panel, effecting the journey by vigorous shoves
+of his stomach. It was minutes later that he first noticed that some
+sharp jutting object was jutting deep into his ample paunch, but he
+could do nothing to remedy it. He was hidden, anyway, and he was going
+to stay hidden!
+
+The cook felt the _NX-1_ being towed forward. Then, after a dreadful
+wait, he heard queer noises down below, and was positive the exit
+ports had opened. The snakelike slithering and shuffling which
+followed would mean that the enemy was inside the _NX-1._ The thought
+brought St. Vitus' dance to his limbs, and, try as he might, he
+couldn't still them. Then again the ports opened, the gloomy silence
+returned, and Angus McKegnie was alone with his reflections.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After the first hour he gave voice to them in one simple, bitter
+sentence. "Just why the hell," he muttered, "did I ever join the
+Navy?" The silence offered no reply, and McKegnie, desperate from his
+cramped position, ventured to poke his head around the instrument
+panel. The faint emergency lights showed the control room to be empty.
+He decided to come out, and did so, worming his way back with great
+difficulty.
+
+Once out, the first thing his eyes fell on was the teleview screen.
+Now the cook had never seen one of the octopi, and the screen showed
+hundreds of monsters clustering around the _NX-1._ So with unusual
+promptness he acted, jamming himself once again into his hiding place.
+Maybe, he thought, they had some way in which they could see into the
+control room and discover him!
+
+Hours passed. The cook was sopping with sweat. Finally his thoughts
+emerged into words.
+
+"I got to get out of here!" he said intensely. "I _got_ to! And I got
+to run this submarine!"
+
+The sound of his voice somehow emboldened him. Once more he backed out
+of his cranny, and with cautious, trembling steps explored the control
+room. He kept his eyes from the teleview, though it had a terrible
+fascination for him, and surveyed the _NX-1's_ array of control
+instruments. The prospective navigator groaned at the sight.
+
+There were dozens of mysterious wheels, jutting from every possible
+angle, squads of black and red-handled levers, whole armies of queer
+little stud-buttons and dials. His knowledge of cooking helped him not
+at all in the presence of that maze of devices. Timidly he touched one
+of the levers, but immediately snatched his hand away as if afraid it
+would bite. His boldly announced purpose of running the craft went
+glimmering.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An accidental glimpse of the monsters in the teleview suddenly decided
+him that he needed a weapon. He hunted frantically through the lockers
+and found three service revolvers, which he fastened at his waist,
+adding his own carving knife to the arsenal. But he didn't feel much
+better. Then, remembering for the first time his sea-suit radio, he
+yelled: "Mr. Wells! Mr. Wells! Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you? Can you
+hear me?" There was, of course, no answer.
+
+He tried to bring his muddled thoughts and fears to order. "I got to
+run this thing," he said doggedly. "_Got_ to! Now, let's see: what the
+hell's this thing for?... What the--"
+
+He broke off short, and his eyes went wide. He had heard a noise!
+
+Yes--there it was again! The same peculiar scraping at one of the exit
+ports! He glanced fearfully at the teleview. "Oh, Lord!" he yelped.
+"They're comin' in to get me!"
+
+He started to dive back behind the instrument panel, but stopped, drew
+two guns, and in an agonized muddle trotted back and forth for a
+moment, waving them. Another look at the screen showed that an exit
+port was open, admitting two metal-scaled octopi. McKegnie couldn't
+stand it any longer: he wedged himself behind his panel again. Soon
+sounds of the metal tentacles on the deck below told him that one of
+the creatures was coming up the ramp--then slithering into the control
+room itself. The cook was a lather of cold perspiration.
+
+For a few minutes there was silence. The octopus was apparently
+surveying this new part of the submarine. Then, without warning, the
+tip of a metal-scaled tentacle felt around the panel and crept,
+exploring, up Angus McKegnie's leg--which leg was again suddenly
+afflicted with St. Vitus' dance. The tentacles coiled, pulled
+hard--and the cook with a yowl was yanked out into the room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dangling upside down, high in the air, he submitted to the fishy stare
+of the great eyes under the sheathing of glass. But soon he started to
+squirm, and his violent contortions brought a rush of blood to his
+head, making him quite dizzy. It was while he was in that state that
+things started to happen.
+
+First, a great roar rolled through the _NX-1_, and McKegnie found
+himself flat on the floor with his breath knocked out. Then, while
+this was registering on his mind, he discovered himself the center of
+a madly milling set of tentacles, and instinctively scrambled out of
+the way. From a distance he saw that the tentacles belonged to the
+octopus that had held him, and that their coilings and threshings were
+gradually dying down, until only a quiver ran through them from time
+to time. While McKegnie was trying to figure this all out he noticed
+that the monster's glass sheeting was shattered, that it lay in a pool
+of water, and that the odor of burnt powder was in the air. Looking
+down he found that he had a gun in his hand. A thin wisp of smoke was
+curling from the barrel.
+
+"Gee whiz!" he ejaculated. "Gee _whiz_!"
+
+As he stood there recovering from his surprise, he heard the other
+octopus crawling up the connecting ramp, coming to see what had
+befallen its fellow. Preceded by two trembling guns, McKegnie tiptoed
+to the ramp and peered down.
+
+From the darkness he saw another complicated mass of metal tentacles
+and glass advancing up towards him. Fear smote the cook, and almost
+without volition be pointed his guns and pulled the triggers. As
+before, a bullet crashed into the great dome of glass, and he watched
+a short but terrible death struggle. He had, by himself, slain two
+octopi!
+
+A tremendous elation filled McKegnie--until it occurred to him that
+his shots might have been heard outside. At once he ran and looked at
+the teleview view screen, and what he saw on its silver surface took
+all the triumph abruptly out of him. The octopi outside were darting
+about with alarming activity; a whole cluster of them was centered at
+the exit port, and, even as the cook stared, the preliminary sounds of
+opening it came to his ears.
+
+"Now I _got_ to run this ship!" he groaned.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He peered at the mass of levers and wheels, put out a hand, closed his
+eyes, hesitated, and pulled one of them back. Nothing happened.
+
+He tried another. The noise below grew, but still the _NX-1_ remained
+motionless. Desperate, the cook jerked several other levers. The whine
+of electric motors surged through the silence; the submarine shuddered
+and slewed off to the right, as if trying to dig into the sea-floor.
+
+"I got it started!" he cried. He did something else. The _NX-1_ stuck
+her bow dizzily up and sped into the misty-blue realm above in a
+grand, sweeping circle. The sea-floor with its mound-buildings and
+swarming octopi fell away behind with a rush.
+
+"There!" muttered the triumphant cook. "But--how did I do it?"
+
+The submarine was rising like a sky-rocket. McKegnie remembered
+suddenly that Wells had said the cavern was only a few miles high; he
+must now be very near the top. He held his breath while he pushed a
+likely looking lever the other way.
+
+He was lucky. The _NX-1_ capered like a two-year-old, kicked up her
+stern and bolted eagerly for the depths once more. Again the floor of
+the cavern rushed up at him, again he pulled the potent lever back,
+and again the submarine meteored upward.
+
+This procedure went on for some time. McKegnie was only running an
+elevator. Was he doomed to dash up and down between floor and ceiling
+forever? He gave forth pints of sweat, now and then groaning as the
+submarine grazed horribly close to top or bottom. The dead octopus at
+his feet slithered limply around on the crazy-angling deck.
+
+"I can't keep this up forever!" the cook said peevishly. "Now, what
+the hell's this thing for?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He turned it, and the _NX-1_ tilted in one of her dives and raced
+forward, midway between ceiling and floor. Her navigator relaxed
+slightly. He had found the major controls; at least he had been able
+to stop his dizzy game of plunging up and down. Then, just as he was
+beginning to wonder where he could go, a large red spot glowed at the
+edge of the location chart.
+
+"Oh, Lord!" he cried. "That's the other submarine--an' it's comin'
+after me!"
+
+Evidently it was, for the red spot rapidly approached the green one.
+The paralyzing ray tingled, and a moment later the enemy's huge bulk
+loomed on the teleview screen, a band of violet light spearing from
+one of her jutting knobs.
+
+Frantically McKegnie juggled his levers, and then it was that the
+_NX-1_ really showed what was in her. She emulated, on a grand scale,
+a bucking bronco: she stood almost on her nose, and threatened to
+describe somersaults; she tried it the other way, on her stern; she
+rolled dizzily; she all but looped the loop, and went staggering
+around the cavern in great erratic bounds that must have made the
+octopi think she was in the hands of a mad-man--which she practically
+was. Her designer would have had heart failure.
+
+In the teleview screen the frantic McKegnie would see the octopi
+submarine rush erratically by with a flash of its violet heat ray; the
+location chart showed the red spot zigzagging drunkenly around the
+green one. Each boat made occasional short, crazy darts at the other;
+sometimes they would stand approximately still. It was a riotous game
+of tag, and McKegnie knew too well that he was "it."
+
+During one brief pause the anguished cook found himself groaning
+aloud: "Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you? I can't keep this up! I can't! I
+can't!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were still several important-looking controls that were
+mysteries to him. But what if he should pull one and open all the exit
+ports? He shuddered at the thought.
+
+Things had become nightmarish. The ship was pitted scores of places by
+the heat ray. The control room had grown stifling. McKegnie was losing
+pounds of flesh, and literally stood in a pool of his own
+perspiration. The octopi craft kept doggedly after the _NX-1_, no
+matter how often and effectually the sweating cook's reckless hands
+prevented her getting the heat ray home.
+
+For a long time the two ships continued to race up and down. The
+_NX-1_ would plunge, pirouette around the other, and scamper away
+towards the ceiling as if enjoying it all hugely, abruptly to forsake
+her course and come zooming down once more. She would weave in romping
+circles and seem to go utterly crazy as her jumbled navigator pulled
+his levers and turned his wheels in a frantic effort to get somewhere.
+
+To get somewhere! Yes--but where?
+
+"Oh, Mr. Wells, where are you?" the harried cook would bleat at
+intervals.
+
+Or, plaintively: "Now, what the hell's _this_ thing for?"
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+_At Bay_
+
+Fourteen humans stood at bay on the cold sea-floor, dazed by the
+ruthless stroke of ill-luck which had taken the _NX-1_ from where they
+had left it.
+
+"It's gone," whispered Graham over and over in a hopeless tone. Keith
+tried to pull himself together. He had to think of his men.
+
+In a second, his whole plan, which had seemed to be approaching
+success so rapidly, was smashed by the disappearance of the submarine.
+Mechanically he kept his helmet-light playing into the ever-thickening
+eyes and tentacles around him, while he scanned the sea-floor nearby.
+It was filling more closely than ever with the black, writhing forms
+of the cuttlefish. The rays still held them back, but their great bulk
+loomed over the small party of humans like a sinister storm cloud.
+Soon, in their overwhelming mass, they would crush down, and the
+submarine's crew be conquered by sheer force of numbers.
+
+"Look!" Keith cried. "There's where she was lying!"
+
+He pointed out on the floor of the square a deep groove, obviously
+made by the hull of the _NX-1_. Its length and jaggedness seemed to
+denote that the submarine had tried to bore into the bed of the cavern
+itself. Wells was mystified. If the octopi-ship had towed her away,
+she would certainly not have gouged that deep scar on the sea
+bottom....
+
+But he dismissed the strange disappearance from his mind. He had to
+work out a plan of action.
+
+"Keep together, men, and follow that scar!" he ordered tersely.
+"There's a chance that the _NX-1's_ somewhere further along!"
+
+It was a futile hope, he knew--but there was nothing else. The tiny
+group, centered in the inverted bowl of black, writhing tentacles,
+lumbered onward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then the octopi struck with another weapon, in an effort to dull the
+spearing beams of white. Here and there from the mass of black an even
+blacker cloud began to emerge. It quickly settled over the whole
+scene, pervading it with a pitchy, clinging darkness that obscured
+each man from his neighbor.
+
+"Ink!" cried one of them. It was sepia from the cuttlefish's ink
+sacs--the weapon with which these monsters of the underseas blind and
+confuse their victims.
+
+"Faster!" the commander roared in answer. "And for heaven's sake, keep
+together!"
+
+They huddled closer. Under the protecting cloud of ink the mass of
+octopi pressed nearer. The struggle became fantastic, unreal, as the
+brilliant beams of white bored through the utter blackness searching
+for eyes which the men knew were there, yet could not see until their
+rays chanced upon them. Snaky shadows milled horribly close to the
+little group of bulging yellow figures. Blacker and blacker grew the
+water; they could not always see the monsters as they drove them back
+on each side. Now and then a bold tentacle actually touched one of
+them for a moment before its owner was thrust, blinded, away.
+
+Suddenly the dark cloud cleared a little as the fight moved into an
+unseen current. Their range of vision lengthened to ten or twelve
+feet; they could dimly sense the looming mass of cuttlefish: and it
+was less often that one of the monsters darted forward, daring the
+rays of white, and became altogether visible. When this did happen,
+half a dozen dazzling beams converged on the octopus' eyes and drove
+it back in writhing agony.
+
+The men were the hub of a grotesque cartwheel, whose spokes were
+inter-crossing rays of white. They still forged onward along the
+groove, but moved more slowly now, and Keith Wells, tired to death,
+realized the combat could not go on much longer. Their advance was
+useless; a mere jest. The _NX-1_ had vanished. It would only be a
+question of time before their batteries gave out, or the swarms of
+octopi crushed in on the struggling crew. Their overwhelming numbers
+would tell in the end.... The men were silent, except for the
+occasional gasps which came from their laboring lungs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And then the king of the octopi appeared.
+
+Keith had been wondering, in the aching turmoil that was his brain,
+where the gold-banded monarch was. He knew the monster had been
+rescued, and he dreaded coming face to face once more with that huge
+form. Now, armlets of glittering yellow suddenly flashed in the thick
+of the besieging tentacles, and two great evil eyes glared for a
+second at Keith Wells. The commander flung a burst of light at them
+and laughed crazily as the monster scurried back. For a few moments
+the king was not visible.
+
+"Well, fellows," Wells said, "it won't be long now. His Majesty's back
+on the field." He grinned a little through his weary face. "I wonder
+what he'll hatch up to combat our helmet-lights? Watch close: he's
+damn clever!"
+
+The commander did not have long to wonder. The vague wall of tentacles
+began retreating deeper into the ink. Keith could not imagine the
+reason for it, but held himself taut and ready. His men, likewise
+noting the move, unconsciously grouped closer, waiting tensely for
+they knew not what.
+
+The king of the octopi had indeed hatched a plan of attack. After a
+moment the mass of creatures again became slowly visible, but this
+time when the rays shot out they did not hold them back. Could
+not--for their eyes were not visible.
+
+"My God!" Wells cried. "They're coming backwards!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was so. The octopi--no doubt under their ruler's orders--had turned
+themselves around, and now, with eyes directly away from the dazzling
+shafts of white, were closing slowly in on the humans from all sides.
+The helmet-lights were useless. They could not reach the creatures'
+eyes.
+
+Tentacles coiling, whipping, interweaving, the wall of flesh pressed
+in. Death stared the helpless crew of the _NX-1_ in the face. First
+Officer Graham shrugged his shoulders and said tiredly:
+
+"Well, I guess it's all over.... Unless," he added with a feeble
+smile, "somebody figures a way to melt us through the sea-floor...."
+
+Keith Wells' face suddenly lit up with an idea. He swung around and
+roared:
+
+"The hell it's over! We can go _up_!"
+
+His crew understood at once. "What fools we--" Graham began, but Keith
+cut him short.
+
+"Listen," he rapped quickly. "Jam together in one bunch and lock arms
+tight. When I give the word, flood your suits with air. We'll go up
+like comets; crash right through the devils.... Hurry!... All ready?"
+
+He saw that they were. "Then, together--go!" he commanded.
+
+As one man the crew adjusted their air-controls, bulging the sea-suits
+with air. Their weighted feet left the cavern floor at once, and,
+locked tightly together, the whole fourteen of them shot like a bullet
+to the living ceiling of unsuspecting cuttlefish above.
+
+They hit with a terrific crash. Keith was momentarily stunned by the
+force of impact. He felt himself torn away from his men, felt a dozen
+tentacles snake over him, and mechanically stabbed out with his
+helmet-light. For a moment he was held; then the air and his light
+pulled him through, and he broke out through the top.
+
+In his rocketing upward progress the extra oxygen rapidly cleared his
+mind. Glancing below he saw a great, dark, many-fingered cloud
+dropping rapidly away, and was glad to know that the octopi could not
+follow him into the lesser pressures above without their suits. Over
+the dark cloud he glimpsed a few scattered pin-points of light--the
+helmet-beams of the other men. They were rising as swiftly as he.
+
+"Thank God!" he murmured reverently. "We broke through! We broke
+through!"
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+_The Return of the Wanderer_
+
+Wells watched the several helmet-lights shooting upwards and wondered
+if they represented all the men that had got safely through the net of
+tentacles. Remembering the rocky ceiling they were rapidly
+approaching, he ordered the others to reduce speed by discharging air
+from their sea-suits. He received no articulate answer.
+
+Although he cut down the rush of his own progress, it was with a jar
+that he bounded into the top of the cavern. As he dangled there, he
+beheld four light beams hurtling upward; his earphones registered
+crash after crash: and then he saw the beams go spinning down into the
+gloom again, weaving and crossing fantastically, the shock having
+jerked them from their owner's hands. Keith had lost his own
+helmet-light below, but peering around he could make out a few vague
+forms, bumping and twisting in the current.
+
+"Graham!" the commander called. "Graham, you there?" After a moment
+his first officer's voice came thickly back.
+
+"Yes--here. A bit groggy. That crash...." Wells swam clumsily towards
+him.
+
+"I guess only a few of us broke through," the commander said slowly.
+As the two officers hung at the roof, swinging grotesquely, one by one
+the other men came to their senses and reported their presence in the
+radiophone. Keith ordered them to cluster around him, and soon eight
+weird figures had grouped nearby. After a while they located two
+others, which brought their total to ten men and two officers. They
+looked a long time, but could not find any more. Two were gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Deep silence fell over the tiny group. The dark mass of the rocky
+ceiling scraped their helmets; below, the bluish waters tapered into a
+thick gloom, hiding, miles beneath, the mound-buildings and swarming
+octopi.
+
+One of the men spoke. His words were audible to everyone, and they
+voiced the thought in every brain:
+
+"What're we going to do now?"
+
+Keith had no answer. They had escaped the immediate danger, but it was
+only a temporary respite. The commander knew it was hopeless to try
+and locate the tunnel leading to the outer sea, for they were very
+tired, and in their clumsy suits they would be able to swim only a few
+rods. Their helmet-lights were gone; they had played their last card.
+
+"They're goin' to find us after a while," the pessimistic voice
+continued. "They'll send that submarine of theirs after us--or maybe
+they'll come up in their metal suits...."
+
+"Well," Keith replied with forced cheerfulness, "then we'll have to
+fight 'em off."
+
+"Why not rip our suits an' end it now--" began another, but Graham's
+voice cut in sharply.
+
+"Quiet!" he said. "I heard something!"
+
+The men stilled abruptly. In tense silence their ears strained at the
+headphones. Wells asked: "What did you hear?"
+
+"Wait!" Graham interrupted, listening intently. "There it is again!
+Listen! Can't you hear it? Why, it sounded like--like--"
+
+Keith concentrated his whole mind on listening, but could catch
+nothing at all. He was just about to give up when he caught a faint,
+jumbled murmur--the murmur of a human voice.
+
+"My God!" he whispered. The voice, little by little, grew, and Wells
+could distinguish words. They formed into a complete sentence. Keith
+heard it plainly. It was:
+
+"Now, what the hell's this thing for?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Unmistakably, it was the voice of Cook Angus McKegnie, whom they all
+had thought dead.
+
+Amazed, the men of the crew started to jabber. "Quiet!" Wells ordered
+sharply. He listened again. McKegnie's voice was growing quickly and
+steadily louder.
+
+"McKegnie!" the commander cried excitedly. "McKegnie, can you hear
+me?" There was no answer. Patiently Wells waited a minute, every
+second of which increased the volume of his long-lost cook's
+bewildered tones. Again he tried.
+
+"McKegnie! Can you hear me? This is Commander Wells. McKegnie!"
+
+The cook's stammering voice came back:
+
+"Why--why--is that you, Mr. Wells? Did I hear you, Mr. Wells?"
+
+"Yes!" Keith shouted impatiently. "This is Commander Wells! For
+heaven's sake, McKegnie, where are you?"
+
+"I don't know, sir!" the cook responded. "Where are you?"
+
+Keith was for the moment perplexed. "But--but, are you a prisoner?" he
+questioned. And he could have sworn he heard a distinct note of pride
+as the invisible McKegnie replied: "Oh, no, sir! Not yet! These devils
+been tryin' their best to get me, but they couldn't! No, sir!"
+
+Wells became more and more puzzled. "Then--but--you're not running the
+_NX-1_, are you?"
+
+McKegnie's voice was much louder now, and growing every second. The
+note of pride persisted. "Of course, sir!" he confirmed. "It was kind
+of hard at first, with these octopises botherin' me, but I got onto it
+pretty quick. That octopis ship chased me with them heat rays for a
+long time, but I ain't seen them lately. I guess I kinda tired them
+out."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His last words grew louder with a rush, and from the dark depths
+beneath a long shape suddenly appeared, hurtling up at the group of
+astounded men in a zoom that bade fair to take it straight through the
+ceiling. It was the _NX-1_.
+
+"Dive, man, dive!" Keith yelled. "Cook, pull that black-handled lever
+towards you! Yank it back! Yank it back! Quick!" He sighed with relief
+as he saw his madly-driven submarine pause, whip its nose downward,
+and crash back for the depths from which it had come.
+
+The commander spoke rapidly. "McKegnie, listen: Leave the black lever
+halfway, so you'll level out. Straighten your helm. We're only a
+little above you; come round in a circle till I tell you to stop."
+
+The _NX-1_ came out of her dive, and, as the cook evidently shoved her
+helm over, went skirting around in a wide, drunken circle, some
+thousand feet below her regular crew.
+
+"All right!" Keith shouted. The fear that the octopi submarine would
+dart back before he could get aboard his ship was looming in his mind.
+"You're at the helm, Cook; there's a wheel right over your head. Spin
+it around--oh, my God, there you go again!" He groaned while the
+_NX-1_ went swooping off on a repetition of her crazy circle.
+
+"Sorry, sir," the culinary navigator said thickly. "I guess I got the
+wrong thing."
+
+"Now!" Wells roared. "Spin that wheel above your head.... That's
+right--right--there! Don't touch a thing, Cook! We're coming down."
+
+The submarine had paused directly beneath them, listing slightly to
+port. Then began the cautious business of the descent. Under Wells'
+rapid orders the men linked arms again and discharged more air from
+their sea-suits. Slowly, thin chains of bubbles rising behind them,
+they sank towards the dim shape of the _NX-1_ below. Wells' eyes kept
+probing the thick gloom far beneath. Every moment he expected to see
+it disgorge a swarm of octopi.
+
+They neared the submarine, and saw numberless pitted spots in her
+body, where the heat ray had stabbed for a moment. In their excitement
+they missed their level by some feet, but clutching together they
+admitted more air and soon rose even with the starboard exit port.
+
+"Swim forward," Keith ordered. "Hurry!" The weird figures groped
+clumsily, and very slowly neared the port. The commander, in the van,
+at last reached out and gripped its jutting external controls. He
+could not work them at first: his hands were numb and awkward.
+
+As he tugged and struggled with them a shout rang in his headphone. It
+was McKegnie, scared to death.
+
+"Oh, hurry, Mr. Wells!" he yelled. "Quick! Quick, please! The octopis
+ship's comin', sir! The red light's back!"
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+_To the Death_
+
+The emergency steadied Keith's fingers. He got the door open and
+motioned Graham and six men inside the water chamber. The passage took
+but a minute. Then he sent the rest of the crew in, being himself the
+last to enter. When the chamber was finally empty, and Wells had
+stepped through the inner door onto the lower deck of the _NX-1_, a
+great sigh of relief broke from him. Never before had anything looked
+so good as that brilliantly lit deck with its familiar maze of
+machinery and bulkheads.
+
+"Thank God," he said simply, and his joy was shared by the whole crew.
+A new feeling had come over them. Back home--in their own submarine,
+their own element--they had at least a fighting chance with the
+octopi. But Keith let them waste no time. He knew that a final,
+desperate duel to the death with their foe still was ahead. "Above to
+the control room," he ordered. "Fast!"
+
+They lumbered up the connecting ramp. A disheveled, wild-eyed form met
+them. Keith couldn't help chuckling as he passed the now much thinner
+and paler cook, with the arsenal handy at his waist. On the deck of
+the control room lay a huge tentacled body, metal-scaled, with its
+dome of glass shattered and its great cold eyes staring unseeingly
+away. "I killed him," stammered McKegnie pridefully; "but Mr.
+Wells--look at that red light, sir!"
+
+Keith glanced rapidly at the location chart, ripping off his sea-suit
+as he did. The fateful red stud was moving swiftly down on the
+motionless green one. The men had surrounded McKegnie, laughing and
+slapping him on the back, but the commander's terse orders jerked them
+abruptly back to action.
+
+"The rectifiers, Graham: clean out this stale air. Sea-suits off; at
+emergency posts. Take the helm, Craig; you, Wetherby, trim the ship.
+No, no, Cook--keep away from the controls!"
+
+The _NX-1_ balanced herself; fresh air came rushing in, sweeping out
+the stale. Keith stared at the location chart, waiting for the
+submarine to be ready. The red light was almost upon them.
+
+"Right!" he roared at last. "Diving rudder controls, Graham! Full
+speed for the tunnel!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At that moment the octopi ship swept into view, its full battery of
+offensive weapons flaring forth. The paralyzing ray tingled again and
+again over the control room. Someone laughed at its uselessness. The
+violet heat ray leveled full at them, but the commander avoided it
+with "Port ten, starboard ten! Maintain zigzag course to the tunnel."
+He understood the enemy's weapons now; he was throbbing with the
+fierce thrill of action. This duel was to be the climax of their whole
+adventure. "And, by heaven," he promised, "it's going to be a fight!"
+
+The other craft seemed to realize the _NX-1_ was now in expert hands.
+She raced along to starboard for some minutes, her heat ray trying
+vainly to steady on the American's weaving form. Wells wondered if the
+king of the octopi was aboard her, in command; he thought perhaps the
+ship had postponed her chase of McKegnie to pick him up. "I hope he
+is!" the commander breathed, and fingered the torpedo lever. He had
+some debts to pay.
+
+The _NX-1_, engines working smoothly, proceeded on a desperate dash
+for the tunnel that led to the outer sea. But the octopi ship
+apparently knew what Keith intended, for she abandoned her offensive
+rays, changed course a few degrees and slowly but steadily pulled
+ahead. "Damn!" Keith exclaimed. "She'll get there before us!"
+
+The dim shape dwindled on the screen, and before long her bulk had
+disappeared entirely. Wells then could watch her swift, straight
+progress only on the location chart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes later the funnel-like opening of the tunnel loomed on the
+teleview, and squarely in front, blocking it, was the waiting form of
+the octopi submarine.
+
+"Quarter speed!" Keith snapped. "Hold her steady, Graham; I'm going to
+try a bow torpedo. I think we're beyond their ray."
+
+Sighting his range on the telescopic range-finder, he worked the
+_NX-1_ slowly into position. He noticed that his first officer was
+staring oddly at him. He was bothered by the queer look. "What's
+wrong?" he asked impatiently.
+
+"But--what about Hemmy Bowman?"
+
+Bowman! In the rush of action and suspense, Keith Wells had completely
+forgotten his officer in the enemy submarine. "Oh, God!" he groaned.
+The cruel situation that had stayed his hand once before had again
+come to falter his course of action. The men were watching him; Graham
+had a question in his eyes. They all knew what had to be decided....
+
+Keith shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. It was his greater duty to
+destroy the octopi submarine. And yet--
+
+"Fish for Hemmy, Sparks," he ordered. "Craig, keep present distance
+from enemy. Full stop."
+
+A moment later the radio operator looked up. "Mr. Bowman on the
+phones, sir." With a heavy weight on his heart the commander clipped
+on the extension headphones.
+
+"Hemmy?"
+
+"Keith? Keith? Thank God you're alive!" Bowman's voice shook with
+gladness. "You're all back on the _NX-1_, Keith? The whole crew's with
+you? Oh, Lord, it's good to hear you again!"
+
+"Yes. We got back all right, Hemmy--a miracle. They've still got you
+prisoner?"
+
+"Yes.... Keith--you're trying to dodge out of the tunnel, aren't you?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wells smiled bitterly, and as he paused to frame an answer Bowman
+spoke again.
+
+"I want you to blow up this submarine, Keith," he said quickly. "A
+favor to me."
+
+He cut Wells short when the commander started to interrupt. "Wait! Let
+me finish," he pleaded. "I want to explain. I'd been hoping--but never
+mind that.... Keith, a while ago I managed to work loose. I lost my
+head completely and tackled these devils. It was a foolish thing to
+do; they overcame me, naturally. But, in the struggle, they tore my
+sea-suit."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Oh, just a tiny tear, or I wouldn't have lasted till now. But a leak
+all the same--in the right leg. Since then I've been gripping the
+edges of the fabric as tightly as I can--but I couldn't keep the water
+inside this ship from seeping through. It came in slowly at first,
+then faster as my hands grew numb. It's up to my neck now, Keith ...
+and--it won't be long! I've just a few minutes left...."
+
+The faint words tapered into silence.
+
+"No!" roared Keith in a great rush of emotion. But Hemmy's eager
+voice came right back:
+
+"Oh yes, you must! It would be a mercy to kill me, Keith."
+
+There were tears in the commander's eyes. "Are you sure, Hemmy?" he
+asked. "Are you sure?"
+
+"Oh, yes. It would be a mercy."
+
+Wells' lips formed a straight grim line. His words squeezed through it
+tightly. "All right, Hemmy. Thanks. Thanks. I--I'll go after them now,
+old man. I'll try and keep in touch with you through the duel, but
+I--I can't promise--"
+
+He could almost see Hemingway Bowman give his old familiar smile as he
+answered:
+
+"Then so long, Keith!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Commander Keith Wells studied the teleview screen. The men were half
+afraid to look at his strained blanched face.
+
+Repeatedly the violet beam speared through the water, reaching for the
+_NX-1's_ bow.
+
+"Turn ship. Line up for stern torpedoes," the commander ordered
+harshly. He realized he could not hold his submarine steady to obtain
+a perfect sight, for the heat ray needed only thirty seconds to melt
+through their shell. He would have to swing the ship slowly about;
+and, as the shape of the enemy crossed the hair-lines on the
+range-finder, unleash his torpedoes and gamble on hitting the moving
+target.
+
+The _NX-1_ swung around, always maintaining a slight forward motion
+and zigzagging constantly to nullify the heat beam. Wells watched the
+range-finder closely. The octopi ship slanted downwards, the deadly
+violet ray stabbing from her bow. Slowly the black dot that
+represented her appeared on the dial, and slowly it dropped towards
+the crossed lines that showed the perfect firing point.
+
+Keith grasped the torpedo lever. The _NX-1's_ stern was towards her
+target. Dead silence hung in the control room. The _NX-1_ swung
+slightly. The octopi craft appeared directly in the middle of the
+dial.
+
+Wells pulled back the lever.
+
+The hiss of compressed air sprang from her stern. He had fired two
+tubes, his whole stock of stern torpedoes. The pair of dreadful
+weapons leaped out and settled on their course. Keith shot his gaze to
+the teleview.
+
+The torpedoes missed. Only by feet, but a miss all the same. They
+raced on past the octopi submarine and, with a tremendous, ear-numbing
+explosion, burst on the wall of the cavern beyond. Both ships reeled
+from the shock. Graham swore viciously, but Wells' masklike face
+showed no slightest change of expression....
+
+A voice rang in Keith's headphones. "Tough, Keith! Better luck next
+time!" Then the commander winced. He simply could not answer Hemmy
+Bowman; could not answer that fine, brave voice....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The stern torpedoes were gone. The tubes could not be reloaded, for
+the paralyzing ray bound the men to the control room. That left them
+two torpedoes in the bow.
+
+The violet heat ray kept fingering hungrily on their outer hull, and
+every man knew that the plates were weakening under the steady strain,
+which was only lessened by the _NX-1's_ constant zigzagging. The
+control room was very hot. Both ships were now a full mile from the
+tunnel entrance. Keith plunged the _NX-1_ down, swung her around, to
+bring his bow tubes to bear, and zigzagged upwards.
+
+It was obvious that the octopi craft had been alarmed by the terrific
+explosion. They now adopted tactics similar to the American ship's,
+and for awhile both submarines circled cautiously, maneuvering for an
+opening.
+
+"If only we could keep the ship steady!" Graham muttered. "But then
+that heat ray'd get us!"
+
+The commander kept his eyes on the teleview. Again and again the
+violet shaft pronged at them. The heat grew stifling. Sweat was
+pouring from all the men's bodies. Every face was strained and taut.
+
+"Starboard full!" Wells said suddenly. "A little up, Graham!" He had
+seen a chance; the octopi craft was slightly above, and in a moment
+would pass directly in the line of the bow tubes. The _NX-1_ stuck her
+nose up, swung rapidly to the right. Keith pulled back the firing
+lever, releasing one torpedo.
+
+The long messenger of death hurtled straight for the enemy's hull.
+They watched its course breathlessly....
+
+"My God!" the first officer groaned. "Could they see it coming?" For
+the octopi submarine had swung to one side, neatly dodging the
+speeding tube of dynamite.
+
+"One left!" he added bitterly. "One left!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A desperate plan formed in Keith Wells' mind. His last torpedo simply
+had to strike the mark; he could take no chances with it. He motioned
+the haggard-faced Graham to him.
+
+"There's only one thing left to do," he said quietly. "We've got to
+deliberately face that heat ray; chance its puncturing our plates."
+
+"How do you mean, sir?"
+
+"Get in very close, so as to make our last torpedo sure to hit. We've
+got to approach the enemy head-on at full speed. We'll corkscrew up to
+them until we get within two hundred yards, then go straight forward
+for ten or fifteen seconds, giving us the opportunity to sight the
+remaining torpedo directly on them. The heat ray may break through
+before I fire--but when I do fire it's a sure hit."
+
+The men had heard every word. Quietly Wells ordered:
+
+"Take the torpedo control, Graham. I'll take the helm."
+
+The first officer obeyed without a word. Keith grasped the helm. The
+plans were made for their last desperate attempt.
+
+"Right," the commander said shortly. "Here we go."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There had been a taut silence before, but now, knowing that they were
+deliberately offering themselves a perfect target for the heat ray in
+order to get their last torpedo home, the intensity was almost
+unbearable. The men felt like shrieking, jumping--doing anything to
+break the awful hush. The air was charged with the same unnameable
+something that heralds a typhoon.
+
+Keith Wells was like a white statue at the helm, save for the
+betraying trickles of sweat that coursed down his drawn cheeks. His
+hands moved the wheel slowly from port to starboard; his eyes bored at
+the screen before him. The ship was in command of a man of steel, a
+man with but one purpose....
+
+"Up--up," he ordered. "Hold--in trim--full speed forward!"
+
+He had brought the _NX-1_ directly in line with the octopi ship. And
+now the craft leaped forward under full power, while he shot the helm
+back and forth ceaselessly. His ship was describing a corkscrewing
+motion, weaving straight at the enemy. Grasping her opportunity, the
+octopi submarine remained motionless, steadily dousing the approaching
+American craft with her silent violet ray and driving the temperature
+in the control room to even greater heights.
+
+The distance between them rapidly lessened. Would the plates stand it?
+Would the ray melt through the weakened steel before he could fire?
+With an effort Keith drove these doubts from his mind ... but he could
+not banish a certain dull, steady ache from his consciousness....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The range dwindled. The heat became intolerable. Everyone's clothing
+was sopping wet. A man ripped off his shirt, gasping for air. Wells
+kept his eyes on the screen, though half-blinded by smarting sweat.
+The plates had to give soon, he knew.
+
+The octopi submarine, beam on and dead ahead, began to move to port at
+quickly increasing speed. At once Keith stopped swinging the helm, and
+the _NX-1's_ corkscrewing motion of protection ceased. And then came
+the real test, the gauntlet of seconds.
+
+Right straight into the retreating violet beam they went, at top
+speed. They gained rapidly. The heat was furnace-like. The commander,
+watching the range-finder, kept moving the helm slightly over. A shaft
+of violet heat spanned the two shells of metal. For ten seconds it had
+held on the _NX-1_. The black dot of the enemy craft moved slowly to
+exact center on the dial. Fifteen seconds ... twenty ...
+twenty-three--
+
+"Fire!"
+
+Graham jammed the torpedo lever back.
+
+"Crash dive!"
+
+The deck tilted downward. And Wells' white lips formed the words, "So
+long, Hemmy!"--and he tore the phones from his head.
+
+Seconds later a titanic explosion sounded through the cavern; echoed
+and re-echoed in vasty roars. The American craft's lights went
+off--but not before her men had seen, in the teleview, a fire-shot
+maelstrom where a moment before the octopi submarine had been.
+
+"We got them!" yelled Graham.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A roar of exultation burst from every throat. The men flung their arms
+out, jumped, yelled crazily. Faint emergency lights lit the scene.
+
+"Below, at regular posts," Wells ordered. "Reload bow and stern tubes.
+Graham, see to the lights." He himself remained at the helm. In a few
+moments the submarine had climbed back to the level of the tunnel. At
+quarter speed she nosed into the wide entrance, and slowly forged into
+the dense, deceptive shadows.
+
+The commander acted mechanically. Again by touch he steered his ship
+through the black, ragged cleft. Fifteen minutes after leaving the
+cavern of the octopi her bow poked through the weaving kelp into the
+free, salty depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
+
+There was one more task to perform, and Wells lost no time in doing
+it. When two hundred yards away he halted the _NX-1_, steadied her and
+sighted the stern tubes just above the dark tunnel hole. Quickly he
+sent forth two torpedoes.
+
+A huge roar rumbled through the water, whipping the beds of kelp to
+mad convulsions. "Turn around," the commander ordered harshly. He
+sighted his bow tubes and again let loose a bolt of two torpedoes.
+Then he sent the submarine forward, and, through the teleview,
+examined what his four weapons had done.
+
+Huge chunks of rock had been tumbled down, completely closing the
+tunnel.
+
+"Well," said Graham, "it's over! Finished! They'll never get through
+that!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A full-throated cheer burst from the men below, a cheer that rang for
+minutes as they realized they were free forever of the octopi, of the
+cold underwater city, of the clutching tentacles. Graham grinned
+broadly.
+
+"Sound happy--eh?" he chuckled. "Say, Keith, it's good we've got those
+two octopi our fighting cook killed. Knapp would never believe our
+story without them!"
+
+He stared curiously at his commander. Wells was standing quite still,
+facing the teleview screen. A strange, far-away look was in his eyes.
+
+"What's the matter, old man?" the first officer asked, smiling
+straight at him. "Aren't you glad we won through?"
+
+"Of course," answered Keith with a tired smile in return.
+
+"But why did you look that way?" Graham persisted. And Keith Wells
+told him:
+
+"I was just wondering if Hemmy told the truth."
+
+
+
+
+The Black Lamp
+
+_By Captain S. P. Meek_
+
+[Illustration: _"Look out!" He leaped to one side as he spoke._]
+
+[Sidenote: Dr. Bird and his friend Carnes unravel another criminal web
+of scientific mystery.]
+
+
+"The clue, Carnes," said Dr. Bird slowly, "lies in those windows."
+
+Operative Carnes of the United States Secret Service shook his head
+before he glanced at the windows of the famous scientist's private
+laboratory on the top floor of the Bureau of Standards.
+
+"I usually defer to your knowledge, Doctor," he said, "but this time I
+think you are off on the wrong foot. If the thieves came in through
+the windows, what was their object in cutting that hole through the
+roof? The marks are very plain and they indicate that the hole was cut
+in some manner from the inside."
+
+Dr. Bird smiled enigmatically.
+
+"That is too evident for discussion," he replied. "I grant you that
+the thieves entered from the roof through that hole. After they had
+secured their booty they left by the same route. I presume that you
+have noticed the marks on the roof where an aircraft of some sort,
+probably a helicopter, landed and took off. A question of much greater
+moment is that of what they did before they landed and cut the hole."
+
+"I don't follow your reasoning, Doctor."
+
+"Carnes, that hole was cut through the roof with a heavy saw. In
+cutting it, the workers dislodged quite a little plaster which fell to
+the floor and must have made a great deal of noise. Why wasn't that
+noise heard?"
+
+"It was heard. The watchman heard it, but knew that Lieutenant Breslau
+was working here and he thought that he made the noise."
+
+"Surely, but why didn't Breslau hear it?"
+
+"How do we know that he didn't? He was taken to Walter Reed Hospital
+this morning with his mind an absolute blank and with his tongue
+paralyzed. He must have seen the thieves and they treated him in some
+way to ensure his silence. When he is able to talk, if he ever is,
+he'll probably give us a good description of them."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird shook his head.
+
+"Too thin, Carney, old dear," he said. "Breslau is a very intelligent
+young man. He was perfectly normal when I left him shortly after
+midnight last night. He was working alone in here on a device of the
+utmost military importance. On the desk is a push button which sets
+ringing a dozen gongs in the building. Surely a man of that type would
+have had sense enough when he heard and saw intruders cutting a hole
+through the roof to sound an alarm which would have brought every
+watchman on the grounds to his assistance. He must have been knocked
+out before the hole was started, probably before the helicopter's
+landing."
+
+"How? Gas of some sort?"
+
+"The windows were all closed and locked and I have already ascertained
+that the gas and water lines have not been tampered with. Gas won't
+penetrate through a solid roof in sufficient concentration to knock
+out a man like that. It was something more subtle than gas."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"I don't know yet. The clue to what it was lies, as I told you, in
+those windows."
+
+Carnes moved over and surveyed the windows closely.
+
+"I see nothing unusual about them except that they need washing rather
+badly."
+
+"They were washed last Friday, but they do look rather dirty, don't
+they? Suppose you take a rag and some scouring soap and clean up a
+pane."
+
+The detective took the proffered articles and started his task. He wet
+a pane of glass, rubbed up a thick lather of scouring soap and applied
+it and rubbed vigorously. With clear water he washed the glass and
+then gave an exclamation of astonishment and examined it more closely.
+
+"That isn't dirt, Doctor," he cried. "The glass seems to be fogged."
+
+Dr. Bird chuckled.
+
+"So it seems," he admitted. "Now look at the rest of the glass around
+the laboratory."
+
+Carnes looked around and then walked to a table littered with
+apparatus and examined a dozen pieces carefully.
+
+"It's all fogged in exactly the same way, Doctor," he said. "The only
+piece of clear glass in the room is that piece of plate glass on your
+desk."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird picked up a hammer and struck the plate on his desk a sharp
+blow. Carnes ducked instinctively, but the hammer rebounded harmlessly
+from the plate.
+
+"That isn't glass, Carnes," said the doctor. "That plate is made of
+vitrilene, a new product which I have developed. It looks like glass,
+but it has entirely different properties. It is of enormous strength
+and is quite insensitive to shock. It has one most peculiar property.
+While ultra-violet and longer rays will penetrate it quite readily, it
+is a perfect screen for X-rays and other rays of shorter wave length.
+It appears to be the only piece of transparent substance in my
+laboratory which has not been fogged, as you call it."
+
+"Do short waves fog glass, Doctor?"
+
+"Not so far as I know at present, but you must remember that very
+little work has been done with the short wave-lengths. In the vast
+range of waves whose lengths lie between zero and that of the X-ray,
+only a few points have been investigated and definitely plotted. There
+may be in that range a wave-length which will fog glass."
+
+"Then your theory is that some sort of a ray machine was put in
+operation before the helicopter landed?"
+
+"It is too early to attempt any theorizing, Carnes. Let us confine
+ourselves to the known facts. Lieutenant Breslau was normal at
+midnight and was working in this room. Some time between then and
+seven this morning he underwent certain mental and physical changes
+which prevent him from telling us what he observed. During the same
+period, a hole was cut in the roof and things of great importance
+stolen. At the same time, all the glass in the laboratory became
+semi-opaque. The problem is to determine what connection there is
+between the three events. I will handle the scientific end here, but
+there is some outside work to be done, and that will be your share."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Give your orders, Doctor," said the detective briefly.
+
+"To understand what I am driving at, I will have to tell you what has
+been stolen. Naturally this is highly confidential. Some rumors have
+leaked out as to my experiments with 'radite,' as I have named the
+new radium-containing disintegrating explosive on which I have been
+working, but no one short of the Secretary of War and the Chief of
+Ordnance and certain of their selected subordinates knows that my
+experiments have been successful and that the United States is in a
+position to manufacture radite in almost unlimited quantities from the
+pitchblende ore deposits of Wyoming and Nevada. The effects of radite
+will be catastrophic on the unfortunate victim on whom it is first
+used. The only thing left to do was to develop a gun from which radite
+shells could be fired with safety and precision.
+
+"Ordinary propellant powders are too variable for this purpose, but I
+found that radite B, one form of my new explosive, can be used for
+propelling the shells from a gun. The ordinary gun will last only two
+or three rounds, due to the erosive action of the radite charge on the
+barrel, and ordinary ordnance is heavier and more cumbersome than is
+necessary. When this was found to be the case, the Chief of Ordnance
+detailed Lieutenant Breslau, the army's greatest expert on gun design,
+to work with me in an attempt to develop a suitable weapon. Breslau is
+a wizard at that sort of work and he has made a miniature working
+model of a gun with a vitrilene-lined barrel which is capable of being
+fired with a miniature shell. The gun will stand up under the repeated
+firing of radite charges and is very light and compact and gives an
+accuracy of fire control heretofore deemed impossible. From this he
+planned to construct a larger weapon which would fire a shell
+containing an explosive charge of two and one-half ounces of radite at
+a rate of fire of two hundred shots per minute. The destructive effect
+of each shell will be greater than that of the ordinary high-explosive
+shell fired from a sixteen-inch mortar, and all of the shells can be
+landed inside a two-hundred foot circle at a range of fifteen miles.
+The weight of the completed gun will be less than half a ton,
+exclusive of the firing platform. It is Breslau's working model which
+has been stolen."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Carnes whistled softly between his teeth.
+
+"The matter will have to be handled pretty delicately to avoid
+international complications," he said. "It's hard to tell just where
+to look. There are a great many nations who would give any amount for
+a model of such a weapon."
+
+"The matter must be handled delicately and also in absolute secrecy,
+Carnes. We are not yet ready to announce to the world the fact that we
+have such a weapon in our armory. It is the plan of the President to
+have a half dozen of these weapons manufactured and give a
+demonstration of their terrible effectiveness to representatives of
+the powers of the world. Think what an argument the existence of such
+a weapon will be for the furtherance of his plans for disarmament and
+universal peace! Public sentiment will force disarmament on the world,
+for even the worst jingoist could no longer defend armaments in the
+face of America's offer to scrap these super-engines of destruction
+and to destroy the plans from which they were made. If the model has
+fallen into the hands of any civilized power the damage is not
+irreparable, for public opinion would force its surrender and return.
+It is among the uncivilized powers that our search must first be
+made."
+
+"That makes the problem of where to start more complicated."
+
+"On the contrary, it simplifies it immensely. At the head of the
+uncivilized powers stands one which has the brains, the scientific
+knowledge and the manufacturing facilities to make terrible use of
+such a weapon. In addition, the aim of that power is to overthrow all
+world governments and set up in their stead its own tyrannical
+disorder. Need I name it?"
+
+"You refer to Russia."
+
+"Not to Russia, the great slumbering giant who will some day take her
+place in the sun in fellowship with the other nations, but to
+Bolsheviki, that empire within an empire, that horrible power which is
+holding sleeping Russia in chains of steel and blood. It is there that
+our search must first be made."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Of course, they have no official representative in America."
+
+"No, but the Young Labor Party is as much their accredited
+representative as the British Ambassador is of imperial Britain. Your
+first task will be to trail down and locate every leader of that group
+and to investigate his present activities."
+
+"I can tell you where most of them are without investigation. Denberg,
+Semensky and Karuska are in Atlanta; Fedorovitch and Caspar are in
+Leavenworth; Saranoff is dead--"
+
+"Presumably."
+
+"Why, Doctor, I saw with my own eyes the destruction of the submarine
+in which he was riding!"
+
+"Did you see his dead body?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Neither did I, and I will never be sure until I do. Once before we
+were certain of his death, and he bobbed up with a new fiendish
+device. We cannot eliminate Saranoff."
+
+"I will include him in my plans."
+
+"Do so. Besides a hypothetical Saranoff, there are a half dozen or
+more of the old leaders of the gang who are alive and at liberty, so
+far as we know. They fled the country after the Coast Guard broke up
+their alien smuggling scheme, but some of them may have returned.
+There are also thirty or forty underlings who should be located and
+checked up on, and, in addition, we must not lose sight of the fact
+that new heads of the organization may have been smuggled into the
+United States. It is no simple task that I am setting you, Carnes, but
+I know that you and Bolton will see it through if anyone can."
+
+"Thanks, Doctor, we'll do our best. If I am not speaking out of turn,
+what are you planning to do in the mean time?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I am going to start Taylor off on an ultra-short wave generator and
+try a few experiments along that line. Breslau is at Walter Reed and
+they are doing all they can for him, but until I can get some definite
+information as to the underlying cause of his condition, they are more
+or less shooting in the dark."
+
+"How are they treating him?"
+
+"By electric stimulations and vibratory treatments and by keeping him
+in a darkened room. By the way, Carnes, if I am correct in my line of
+thought, it would be well to have an extra guard put over Karuska. He
+was the only real expert in ordnance that the Young Labor party had,
+and if they have Breslau's model they'll need him to supervise the
+construction of a gun."
+
+"I'll attend to that at once, Doctor. Is there anything else?"
+
+"Not that I know of. I am going out to Takoma Park this afternoon and
+have another look at Breslau, but it is too soon to hope for any
+change in his condition. Aside from the time I will be out there, you
+can find me either here or at my home, in case anything develops."
+
+"I'll get on the job at once, Doctor."
+
+"Thanks, old dear. Remember that speed must be the keynote of your
+work."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The telephone bell at the head of Dr. Bird's bed woke into noisy
+activity. The doctor roused himself and took down the instrument
+sleepily. A glance at the clock showed him that it was four in the
+morning and he muttered a malediction on the one who had called him.
+
+"Hello," he said into the receiver. "Dr. Bird speaking."
+
+"Doctor," came a crisp voice over the wire, "wake up! This is Carnes
+talking. Something has broken loose!"
+
+All trace of sleep vanished from Dr. Bird's face and his eyes glowed
+momentarily with a peculiar glitter which Carnes would at once have
+recognized as indicative of the keenest interest.
+
+"What has happened, Carnes?" he demanded.
+
+"I telephoned Atlanta this morning and arranged to have an extra guard
+put over Karuska as you suggested. The matter was simplified by the
+fact that he and nine others were confined in the prison infirmary.
+The warden agreed to do as I told him, and, in addition to the regular
+guards, a special man was placed in the ward near Karuska's bed. At 2
+A. M. the lights in the ward went out."
+
+"Accidentally, or were they put out?"
+
+"They haven't found out yet. At any rate they are all right now, but
+Karuska and all of the other inmates and all the guards of that
+particular ward have gone crazy."
+
+"The dickens you say!"
+
+"Not only that, they are also partially paralyzed. The description I
+got over the telephone corresponds exactly with the condition of
+Lieutenant Breslau as you described it to me. Here is the most
+interesting part of the whole affair. The special guard over Karuska
+was only lightly affected and has already recovered and is in a
+position to tell you exactly what happened. I got a garbled account of
+the affair from the warden, something about a goldfish bowl or
+something like that, the warden wouldn't take it seriously enough to
+give me details. I didn't press for them much for I knew that you
+would rather get them at first hand."
+
+"I certainly would. I'll be ready to leave for Atlanta in less than
+ten minutes."
+
+"I expected that, Doctor, and a car is already on its way to pick you
+up. I'll meet you at Langley Field where a plane is already being
+tuned up and will be ready to take off by the time we get there."
+
+"Good work, Carnes. I'll see you at the field."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A car was waiting for Carnes and Dr. Bird when the Langley Field plane
+slid down to a landing at Atlanta. At the penitentiary, Dr. Bird went
+direct to the infirmary where Karuska had been confined. As he
+entered, he shot a keen glance around and gave an exclamation of
+satisfaction.
+
+"Look at the windows, Carnes," he cried.
+
+Carnes went over to the nearest window and moistened his finger tip
+and applied it experimentally to the glass. The moisture produced no
+effect, for the glass of the windows was permanently clouded as was
+that of the doctor's laboratory.
+
+"Whatever happened in my laboratory the night before last was repeated
+here last night with a similar object," said the doctor. "The object
+there was to steal a gun model; here it was to steal a man who could
+construct a full-sized gun from the model. I understand that one of
+the guards escaped the fate which overtook the rest of the persons in
+the infirmary?"
+
+"Not altogether, Doctor," replied the warden. "I think that his mind
+is somewhat affected, for he tells a wild yarn and insists on trying
+to wear a goldfish bowl on his head. I have him under observation in
+the psychopathic ward."
+
+Dr. Bird shot a scornful glance at the warden.
+
+"'There are none so blind as those who will not see'," he murmured.
+
+"By all means, I wish to see him," he went on aloud. "Will you have
+him brought here at once, please?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The warden nodded and spoke to one of the attendants. In a few moments
+a tall, fair-haired young giant stood before the doctor. Dr. Bird
+pushed back his unruly shock of black hair with his fingers, those
+long slim mobile fingers which alone betrayed the artist in his
+make-up, and shot a piercing glance from his black eyes into the blue
+ones, which returned the gaze unabashed.
+
+"What is your name?" he asked.
+
+"Bailley, sir."
+
+"You were on guard here last night?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I was detailed as a special guard over No. 9764."
+
+"Tell me in your own words just what happened. Don't be afraid to
+speak out; I'm not going to disbelieve you; and above all, tell me
+everything, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you. I'll judge
+the importance of things for myself. I'm Dr. Bird of the Bureau of
+Standards."
+
+The guard's face lighted up at the doctor's words.
+
+"I've heard of you, Doctor," he said in a relieved tone, "and I'll be
+glad to tell you everything. At ten o'clock last night, I relieved
+Carragher as special guard over No. 9764. Carragher reported that the
+prisoner was somewhat restless and hadn't been asleep as yet. I sat
+down about fifteen feet from his bed and prepared to keep an eye on
+him until I was relieved at six o'clock this morning.
+
+"Nothing happened until about two o'clock. No. 9764 was restless as
+Carragher had said, but toward midnight he quieted down and apparently
+went to sleep. I was sleepy myself, and I got up and took a turn
+around the room every five minutes to be sure that I kept awake.
+That's how I am so sure of the time, sir."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird nodded.
+
+"At five minutes to two, just as I got up, I heard a noise outside
+like a big electric fan. It sounded like it came from directly
+overhead and I went to the window and looked out. I couldn't see
+anything, although I could hear it pretty plainly, and then I heard a
+noise like something had fallen on the roof. Almost at the same time
+there came a sort of high-pitched whine, a good deal like the noise an
+electric motor makes when it is running at high speed.
+
+"I thought of giving an alarm, but I didn't want to stir things up
+unless I was sure that there was some necessity for it, so I started
+for the door to ask one of the outside guards if he had heard
+anything. As I turned toward No. 9764 I saw that he had been sitting
+up in bed while my back was turned. As soon as he saw that I noticed
+him, he lay back real quick and pulled the covers over his head. He
+moved pretty quick, but not so quick that I couldn't see that he had
+something that glittered like glass before his face. I started over
+toward his bed to see what he was doing and then it was that the
+lights started to get dim!"
+
+"Go on!" said the doctor as Bailley paused. His eyes were glittering
+brightly now.
+
+"Well, sir, Doctor, I don't hardly know how to describe what happened
+next. The lights were getting dim, but not as they ordinarily do when
+the current starts to go off. The filaments were shining as bright as
+they ever did, but the light didn't seem to be able to penetrate the
+air. The whole room seemed to be filled with a blackness that stopped
+the light. No, sir, it wasn't like fog; it was more like something
+more powerful than the lights was in the room and was killing them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"It wasn't only the lights which were affected, it was me as well.
+This blackness, whatever it was, was getting into me as well as into
+the room, and I couldn't seem to make myself think like I wanted to. I
+tried to yell to give an alarm, and I found that I could hardly
+whisper. I went toward the bed and then I saw No. 9764 sit up again.
+He had a goldfish bowl pulled down over his head and it was evident
+that it was keeping the blackness away, for I could see him plainly
+and his eyes were as bright as ever.
+
+"The nearer I got to him, the funnier I felt, and I began to be afraid
+that I would go out. No. 9764 got up out of bed, and I could see him
+grinning at me through the bowl. He reached up and adjusted that bowl,
+and all of a sudden I realized that whatever was knocking me out was
+not affecting him because he had that thing on. I jumped for him with
+the idea of taking the bowl off and putting it on my own head. He saw
+what I was up to and he fought like a cornered rat, but the blackness
+hadn't affected my muscles. I'm a pretty big man, sir, and No. 9764 is
+a little runt, and it didn't take me long to get the bowl off his head
+and pulled on over mine. As soon as I did that, I seemed to be able to
+think clearer. I was sitting on No. 9764 and was ready to tap him with
+a persuader if he started anything, but I didn't have to. In a few
+minutes he stopped struggling and lay perfectly quiet.
+
+"The lights kept getting dimmer and dimmer until they went out
+altogether and the room became pitch dark. It wasn't exactly as if the
+lights had gone out, sir; I seemed to know that they were still there
+and were burning as bright as ever, but they couldn't penetrate the
+blackness in the room, if you understand what I mean."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I think I do," said Dr. Bird slowly. "It was a good deal as if you
+had seen a glass filled with a pale red liquid and someone had dumped
+black ink into the fluid and hid the red color. You would know that
+the red was still there, but you wouldn't be able to see it through
+the black."
+
+"That's exactly what it was like, Doctor; you have described it better
+than I can. At any rate, after it got real dark I heard a low whistle
+from the roof. No. 9764 made a struggle to get up for a moment and
+then lay quiet again. The whistle sounded again and then I heard some
+one call 'Caruso.' Everything was quiet for a while and then the same
+voice called again and said some stuff in a foreign language that I
+couldn't understand. I kept perfectly quiet to see what would happen.
+
+"For about ten minutes the room remained perfectly dark, as I have
+said, and all the while I could hear that whining noise. All of a
+sudden it began to sound in a lower note and then I could see the
+lights again, very dimly and like the black ink you spoke of was
+fading out. The note got lower until it stopped altogether, and the
+lights came on brighter until they were normal again. Then I heard a
+scraping noise on the roof and the noise I had heard at first like a
+big electric fan. I looked at the clock. It was two-twenty.
+
+"For a few minutes I wasn't able to collect my wits. When I got up off
+of No. 9764 at last he stared at me as though he didn't know a thing,
+and I heaved him back into his bed and ran to the door to summon an
+outside guard. I could still talk in a husky whisper, but not loud,
+and I wasn't surprised when no one heard me. My orders were not to let
+No. 9764 out of my sight, but this was an emergency, so I left the
+ward and found a guard. It was Madigan and he was standing on his beat
+staring at nothing. When I touched him he looked at me and there was
+the same vacant look in his eyes that I had seen in the prisoner's. I
+talked to him in a whisper, but he didn't seem to understand, so I
+left him and went to a telephone and called for help. Mr. Lawson, the
+warden, got here with guards in a couple of minutes and I tried to
+tell him what had happened, but I couldn't talk loud, and I was afraid
+to take the fish bowl off my head."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What happened next?"
+
+"Mr. Lawson took me to his office, and on the way we passed under an
+arc light. As soon as I got under it I begin to feel better, and my
+voice came stronger. I saw that it was doing me some good and I
+stopped under it for an hour before my voice got back to normal. It
+seemed to clear the fog from my brain, too, and I was able, about four
+o'clock, to tell everything that had happened. Mr. Lawson seemed to
+think that my brain was affected as well as the others' and he sent me
+to the hospital. That's all, Doctor."
+
+"Do you feel perfectly normal now?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"There is no need for confining this man longer, Mr. Lawson. He is as
+well as he ever was. Carnes, get the Walter Reed Hospital on the
+telephone and tell them that I said to treat Lieutenant Breslau with
+light rays, rich in ultra-violet. Tell them to give him an overdose of
+them and not to put goggles on him. Keep him in the sun all day and
+under sun-ray arcs at night until further orders. Mr. Lawson, give the
+same treatment to the men who were disabled last night. If you haven't
+enough sun-ray arcs in your hospital, put them under an ordinary arc
+light in the yard. Bailley, have you still got that goldfish bowl?"
+
+"It is in my office, Doctor," said the warden.
+
+"Good enough! Send for it at once. By the way, you have two more
+communists here, Denberg and Semensky, haven't you?"
+
+"I think so, although I will have to consult the records before I can
+be positive."
+
+"I am sure that you have. Look the matter up and let me know."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The warden hurried away to carry out the doctor's orders, and an
+orderly appeared in a few moments with a hollow globe made of some
+crystalline transparent substance. Despite its presence in the
+infirmary the evening before, there was no trace of clouding apparent.
+Dr. Bird took it and examined it critically. He rapped it with his
+knuckles and then stepped to the door and hurled it violently down on
+the concrete floor of the yard. The globe rebounded without injury and
+he caught it.
+
+"Vitrilene, or a good imitation of it," he remarked to Carnes. "After
+you get through talking to the hospital, get Taylor on the wire. There
+is plenty of loose vitrilene in the Bureau, and I want him to send
+down about fifty square feet of it by a special plane at once."
+
+As Carnes left the room, the warden reappeared.
+
+"The men are all lying in the sun now, Doctor," he said. "I find that
+we have the two men you mentioned confined here. They are both in Tier
+A, Building 6."
+
+"Is that an isolated building?"
+
+"No, it is one wing of the old main building."
+
+"On which floor?"
+
+"The second floor. It is a six-story building."
+
+"Have they been moved there recently?"
+
+"They have been there for nearly a year."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"In that case there will be little chance of another attack of this
+sort to-night. At the same time, I would advise you to station extra
+guards there to-night and every night until I notify you otherwise.
+Caution them to watch the lights carefully and to give an alarm at
+once if they appear to get dim. In such a case, send men to the roof
+with rifles with orders to shoot to kill anyone they find there. I am
+going back to Washington and I am going to take Karuska, your No. 9764
+with me. You had better have one of the guards in the corridor, where
+Denberg and Semensky are, wear this goldfish bowl, as you call it. A
+lot of plate glass--at least it will look like that--will come from
+Washington by plane. Cut it into sheets a foot square and use
+surgeon's plaster to make some temporary glass helmets for your men. I
+want all your guards to wear them until I either settle this matter or
+else send you some better helmets. Do you understand?"
+
+"I understand all right, but I'm afraid that I can't do it. The
+wearing of such appliances would interfere with the efficiency of my
+men as guards."
+
+"Brain and tongue paralysis would interfere rather more seriously, it
+seems to me. In any event, I have sufficient authority to enforce my
+request. If you are at all doubtful, call up the Attorney General and
+ask him."
+
+The warden hesitated.
+
+"If you don't mind, I think I will call Washington, Doctor," he said.
+"I will have to get authority to turn No. 9764 over to you in any
+event."
+
+"Call all you wish, Mr. Lawson. Mr. Carnes is talking to Washington
+now and we'll have a clear line through for you in a few minutes.
+Meanwhile, get a set of shackles on Karuska and get him ready to
+travel by plane. He appears to be suffering from mental paralysis, but
+I don't know how his case will develop. He may go violently insane at
+any moment and I don't care to be aloft in a plane with an unbound
+maniac."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Major Martin looked up from the prone figure of Karuska.
+
+"His condition duplicates that of Lieutenant Breslau, Dr. Bird," he
+said. "We received your telephoned message this afternoon and we kept
+Breslau in a flood of sunlight until dusk, and then put him under
+sun-ray lamps. I don't know how you got on to that treatment, but it
+is having a very beneficial effect. He can already make inarticulate
+sounds, and his eyes are not quite as vacant at they were. If he keeps
+on improving as he has, he should be able to talk intelligently in a
+few days. If you wish to question this man, why not give him the same
+treatment?"
+
+"I haven't time, Major. I must make him talk to-night if it is humanly
+possible. I called you in because you are the most eminent authority
+on the brain in the government service. Is there any way of
+artificially stimulating this man's brain so that we can force the
+secrets of his subconscious mind from him?"
+
+The major sat for a moment in profound thought.
+
+"There _is_ a way, Doctor," he said at length, "but it is a method
+which I would not dare to use. By applying high frequency electrical
+stimulations to the medulla oblongata, at the same time bathing the
+cerebellum with ultra-violet, it might be done, but the chances are
+that either death or insanity would result. I would not do it."
+
+"Major Martin, this man is a reckless and dangerous international
+criminal. If his gang carries out the plan which I fear they have
+formed, the lives of thousands, yes, of millions, may pay for your
+hesitation. I will assume full responsibility for the test if you will
+make it, and I have the authority of the President of the United
+States behind me."
+
+"In that case, Doctor, I have no choice. The President is the
+Commander-in-chief of the army, and if those are his orders the
+experiment will be carried out. As a matter of form, I will ask that
+your orders be reduced to writing."
+
+"I will write them gladly, Major. Please proceed with the experiment
+without delay."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Major Martin bowed and spoke to a waiting orderly. The prostrate
+figure of Karuska was wheeled down a corridor into the electrical
+laboratory, and with the aid of the laboratory technician the surgeon
+made his preparations. The Moss lamp was arranged to throw a flood of
+ultra-violet over the Russian's cranium while the leads from a deep
+therapy X-ray tube was connected, one to the front of Karuska's throat
+and the other to the base of his brain. At a signal from the major, a
+nurse began to administer ether.
+
+"I guarantee nothing, Dr. Bird," said the major. "The paralysis of the
+vocal cords may be physical, in which case the victim will still be
+unable to speak, regardless of the brain stimulation. If, however, the
+evident paralysis is due to some obscure influence on the brain, it
+may work."
+
+"In any, event I will hold you blameless and thank you for your help,"
+replied the doctor. "Please start the stimulation."
+
+Major Martin closed a switch, and the hum of a high tension alternator
+filled the laboratory. The Russian quivered for a moment and then lay
+still. Major Martin nodded and Dr. Bird stepped to the side of the
+operating table.
+
+"Ivan Karuska," he said slowly and distinctly, "do you hear me?"
+
+The Russian's lips quivered and an unintelligible murmur came from
+them.
+
+"Ivan Karuska," repeated Dr. Bird, "do you hear me?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was a momentary struggle on the part of the Russian and then a
+surprisingly clear voice came from his lips.
+
+"I do."
+
+"Who is the present head of the Young Labor party?"
+
+Again there was a pause before the name "Saranoff" came from the lips
+of the insensible figure. Carnes gave a sharp exclamation but a
+gesture from the doctor silenced him.
+
+"Is Saranoff alive?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is he in the United States?"
+
+"No, he is in London."
+
+"Is he coming to the United States?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When?"
+
+"I don't know. Soon. As soon as we are ready for him."
+
+"Where is he living in London?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"How did you get word that you were to be rescued from Atlanta?"
+
+"A message was smuggled in to me by O'Grady, a guard in our pay."
+
+"What was that vitrilene helmet for?"
+
+"To protect me from the effects of the black lamp."
+
+"What is the black lamp?"
+
+"I don't know exactly. Saranoff invented it. It gives a black light
+and it kills all other light except sunlight, and it paralyses the
+brain."
+
+"Did you know that the model of the Breslau gun had been stolen?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What were you going to do after you were rescued from jail?"
+
+"I was going to make a full-sized gun. We have a disappearing gun
+platform built in the swamps at the juncture of the Potomac and
+Piscataway Creek. The gun was to be mounted there and we would shell
+Washington and institute a reign of terror. It would be a signal for
+uprisings all over the country."
+
+"Is there a black lamp at that gun platform?"
+
+"Yes. The black lamp will kill both the flash and the report."
+
+"Where did you get the formula for radite?"
+
+"We got it from one of Dr. Bird's assistants. His name--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he spoke the last few sentences, Karuska's voice had steadily risen
+almost to a shriek. As he endeavored to give the name of the doctor's
+treacherous helper his voice changed to an unintelligible screech and
+then died away into silence. Major Martin stepped forward and bent
+over the prone figure. Hurriedly he tore away the electrical
+connections and placed a stethoscope over the Russian's heart. He
+listened for a moment and then straightened up, his face pale.
+
+"I hope that the information you obtained is worth a life, Dr. Bird,"
+he said, his voice trembling slightly, "because it has cost one."
+
+"It may easily save thousands of lives. I thank you, Major, and I will
+see that no blame attaches to you for your actions. I only wish that
+he had lived long enough to tell me the name of my assistant who has
+sold me to Saranoff. However, we'll get that information in other
+ways. Carnes, telephone Lawson at Atlanta to slam O'Grady into a cell
+pending investigation while I get Camp Meade on the wire and order up
+a couple of tanks. We are going to attack that gun emplacement at
+daybreak."
+
+The telephone bell in the laboratory jangled sharply. Major Martin
+answered it and turned to Carnes.
+
+"You're wanted on the telephone, Mr. Carnes."
+
+The detective stepped forward and took the transmitter.
+
+"Carnes speaking," he said. "Yes. Oh, hello, Bolton. Yes, we have
+Karuska here, or rather his body. Yes, Dr. Bird is here right now.
+You've what? Great Scott, wait a minute."
+
+"Dr. Bird," he cried eagerly turning from the telephone, "Bolton has
+located the Washington headquarters of the Young Labor party."
+
+Dr. Bird sprang to the instrument.
+
+"Bird speaking, Bolton," he cried. "You've located their headquarters?
+Who's running it? Stanesky, eh? You're on the right track; he used to
+be Saranoff's right hand man. Where is the place located? I don't seem
+to recollect the spot. You have it well surrounded? Where are you
+speaking from? All right, we'll join you as quickly as we can. Keep
+your patrols out and don't let anyone get away."
+
+He hung up the receiver and turned to Carnes.
+
+"Did you have the car wait?" he asked. "Good enough; we'll jump for
+the Bureau and pick up all the vitrilene laying around loose and then
+join Bolton. He thinks that he has the whole outfit bottled up."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bolton was waiting as the car rolled up and Dr. Bird leaped out.
+
+"Where are they?" demanded the doctor eagerly.
+
+"In an abandoned factory building about three hundred yards from
+here," replied the Chief of the Secret Service. "I traced them through
+New York. We have been watching the place ever since yesterday noon,
+and I know that Stanesky is in there with half a dozen others. No one
+has tried to leave since we set our watch. One funny thing has
+happened. About an hour ago a peculiar red glow suffused the whole
+building. It has died down a good deal since, but we can still see it
+through the windows. Could you tell us what it means?"
+
+"No. I couldn't, Bolton, but we'll find out. How many men have you?"
+
+"I have sixteen stationed around."
+
+"That's more than we'll need. I have only vitrilene shields and
+helmets enough to equip six men. Pick out your three best men to go
+with us and we'll make a try at entering."
+
+Bolton strode off into the darkness and returned in a few moments with
+three men at his heels. Dr. Bird spoke briefly to the operatives, all
+of them men who had been his companions on other adventures. He
+explained the need for the vitrilene helmets and shields, and without
+comment the six donned their armor and followed Bolton as he strode
+toward the building. As they approached, a dull red glow could be
+plainly seen through the windows, and Dr. Bird paused and studied the
+phenomenon for a moment.
+
+"I don't know what that means, Bolton," he said softly, "but I don't
+like the looks of it. Stanesky is up to some devilment or other. I
+wouldn't be a bit surprised to find out that he knows all about your
+pickets and is ready for a raid."
+
+"We'd better rush the place, then," muttered Bolton.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird nodded agreement and with a sharp command to his men Bolton
+broke into a run. Not a shot was fired as they approached, and the
+front door gave readily to Bolton's touch. At it opened there came a
+grating sound from the roof followed by the whir of a propeller. Dr.
+Bird ran out of the building and glanced up.
+
+"A helicopter!" he cried. "They were expecting us and have escaped!"
+
+He drew his pistol and fired ineffectually at the great bird-like ship
+which was rising almost noiselessly into the air. He cursed and turned
+again to the building.
+
+Bolton still stood in the room which they had first entered. His
+flashlight showed it to be empty, but from under a door on the
+opposite side a line of dull red light glowed evilly. With his pistol
+ready in his hand, Bolton approached the door on hands and knees.
+When he reached it he threw his shoulder against it and dropped flat
+to the floor as the door swung open. No shot greeted him, and he
+stared for a moment and then rose to his feet.
+
+"Nothing in here but some glass statues," he announced.
+
+Dr. Bird followed him into the room. As he looked at what Bolton had
+called glass statues he gasped and shielded his eyes.
+
+"God in Heaven!" he ejaculated. "Those were living men!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before them were three men or what had been three men. All stood in
+strained attitudes with a look of horror frozen on their faces. The
+thing that made the spectators shudder was that their bodies had, by
+some diabolical method, been rendered semi-transparent. The dull red
+light which suffused the room emanated from the three bodies. Dr. Bird
+examined them closely, being careful not to touch them.
+
+"The identity of my treacherous assistant is known," he said grimly as
+he pointed at the middle figure. "It was Gerond. What is this?"
+
+He took an envelope from the hand of the middle figure and opened it.
+A sheet of paper fell out and he picked it up and read it.
+
+"My dear Mr. Bolton," ran the note. "Your methods of tracing and
+picketing my headquarters are so crude as to be almost laughable. This
+base has served its purpose and we were ready to abandon it in any
+event, but I couldn't resist the temptation to let you almost nab us.
+The three men whom you will find here are agents who failed in their
+duty. If you are interested in learning the method of their execution,
+you might take to heart the words of your colleague, Dr. Bird: 'The
+clue lies in those windows.'"
+
+Carnes glanced at the windows and gave a cry of surprise. The glass
+was opaque, as had been the glass in the doctor's laboratory and the
+glass in the infirmary at Atlanta. The fogging however, was much more
+pronounced, and the opaque glass gave faintly the same red effulgence
+which came from the three bodies.
+
+"What does it mean, Doctor?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know, Carnes," said Dr. Bird slowly. "I foresee that I am
+going to have to do a great deal of work on short wave-lengths soon.
+It is doubtless the effect of some modification of the black lamp
+which has done it. Look out!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He leaped to one side as he spoke, drawing Bolton and Carnes with him.
+A panel in the side of the wall opposite the doorway had slid silently
+open and through the opening poured out a beam of fiery red. Full on
+the three bodies it fell, and then spread out to fill the room. Dr.
+Bird had drawn the two nearest men out of the direct beam, but one of
+the secret service men stood full in its path. In the excitement of
+entering he had dropped his vitrilene shield and the livid ray fell
+full on his defenceless body. As they watched an expression of horror
+spread over his face and he strove to move to one side, but he was
+held helpless. Slowly he stiffened; and, as the ray bored through him,
+his body became semi-transparent and the same dull red glow which
+emanated from the three bodies they had found began to shine forth
+from him. Bolton strove to break from the doctor's grasp and rush to
+the rescue but Dr. Bird held him with a grip of iron.
+
+"Too late," he said grimly. "Chalk up another murder to the arch fiend
+who has committed the others. I don't know the nature of that ray and
+vitrilene may not be an adequate defence against its full force. We
+had better get out of here and attack the place from the rear."
+
+Carefully edging their way around the sides of the room, the five men
+made their way out through the door. Dr. Bird slammed the door shut
+behind him and led the way out of the building and around to the
+rear. A door loomed before them and he cautiously tried it. It gave to
+his touch and he entered. As he set his foot on the threshold a
+terrific explosion came from the interior of the building.
+
+"Run!" he shouted as he led the way in retreat. "If that is a radite
+explosion it will act for several seconds!"
+
+From a safe distance they watched. One corner of the building had been
+torn off by the force of the explosion, and as they watched the rest
+of the building gradually collapsed and sank into a pile of ruins.
+
+"They had planned on a visit from us all right," said Dr. Bolton
+grimly. "They had a surprise for us any way we jumped. If we went in
+the front door, that devil's ray was to finish us, and if we went in
+the back door the whole place was arranged to blow up as we entered. I
+only hope that Stanesky thinks that he has got us all and doesn't
+expect an attack on his next base in the morning. If he doesn't, I
+think we may give him a rather unpleasant surprise. Of course, that
+lamp is smashed into atoms and buried under the debris, but I don't
+know what other devil's contraptions that ruin holds. Bolton, have
+your men picket it and allow no one near until I get back. I've got to
+get to a telephone and get a couple of tanks from Meade and a plane or
+two from Langley Field."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two tanks made their way slowly across country. The front of each tank
+was protected by a heavy sheet of vitrilene, while from the turrets of
+the tanks projected the wicked looking muzzles of thirty-seven
+millimeter guns. Overhead two airplanes from Langley Field soared,
+scouting the country. Dr. Bird and Carnes rode in the leading tank.
+
+"It ought to be somewhere near here, unless Karuska lied," said Carnes
+as he swept the country with a pair of binoculars.
+
+"He didn't lie," returned Dr. Bird. "It was his subconscious mind
+that spoke and it never lies. He spoke of the gun emplacement as being
+in a swamp and I have a strong idea that it is submersible. Of course,
+it is bound to be well camouflaged, both from land and from air
+observation."
+
+The planes circled around again and again, quartering the air like a
+pair of well-trained bird dogs will quarter a hunting field. First
+high and then low they swooped back and forth, the tanks lumbering
+slowly along in the same direction. Presently the occupants of the
+leading tank saw one of the planes bank sharply and swing around. It
+dropped to an altitude of only a few hundred feet and turned and went
+back over the ground it had just crossed.
+
+"I believe that fellow sees something!" exclaimed Carnes.
+
+As he spoke, three green Very lights came from the cockpit of the
+plane. The tank driver gave a grunt of satisfaction and turned the
+nose of his vehicle in that direction. The second tank followed.
+
+Hardly had they turned in the new direction before the ground began to
+get soft under their tracks and the heavy vehicles began to sink. The
+driver of the Doctor's tank forced it ahead, but the tank sank deeper
+in the mire until water flowed in around the feet of the occupants.
+
+"I reckon we'll have to get out and walk pretty soon, Doctor," said
+the driver.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Bird grunted in acquiescence. The tank made its way forward a few
+yards before the engine sputtered and died. The second tank stopped
+when the first one did, fifty yards behind it. Donning vitrilene
+helmets and taking vitrilene shields in their hands, the crews of both
+tanks climbed out into the waist-deep water and gathered around the
+Doctor for orders.
+
+"Form a skirmish line at ten-pace intervals and cross the swamp," he
+directed. "We may meet with no opposition, but if there is, the more
+scattered we are, the safer we will be. You all have hand grenades as
+well as your rifles?"
+
+A murmur of assent answered him and the line formed and started across
+the swamp. They had gone perhaps a hundred yards when three red lights
+came from one of the planes circling overhead.
+
+"Down!" cried the doctor, dropping to his knees in the muck.
+
+Four hundred yards ahead of them a concrete platform emerged from the
+marsh and rose slowly into the air. It was roofed with a dome of what
+looked like plate glass, but which the doctor shrewdly suspected was
+vitrilene. When the base of the platform was two-feet above the level
+of the water the dome slid silently aside disclosing two men bending
+over a tiny gun. Dr. Bird leveled his binoculars.
+
+"That's the Breslau gun model that was stolen as sure as I'm a foot
+high!" he cried. "They must have made some miniature shells and be
+planning to fire it."
+
+Slowly a pall of intense blackness rose from the marsh and enveloped
+the platform and hid it from view. A whining noise came from overhead,
+and then a crash like a thunderbolt. The blast of the explosion threw
+the attackers face down in the swamp, and when they arose and looked
+back there was merely a gaping hole where the leading tank had been.
+The second tank suddenly seemed to rise in the air and fly into
+millions of tiny fragments, and a second thunderous blast sent them
+again to their knees.
+
+"Radite!" bellowed Dr. Bird to Carnes. "Imagine the effect if that had
+been a full charge fired from a completed Breslau gun! Watch the
+planes, now. I think they are going to drop a few eggs on them."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The black mist cleared as if by magic and the platform was in plain
+view. The big glass dome rolled back into place as the two planes
+swept over at an elevation of two thousand feet. From each one a
+small black cigar-shaped object was released and fell in a long
+parabola toward the earth. The glass dome which had been closing over
+the gun platform rolled quickly back and a long beam of intense
+blackness pierced the heavens. First one and then the other of the
+falling bombs disappeared from view into it, and then the black column
+faded from view. The two bombs fell with increasing speed but the dome
+closed over the platform before they struck. The two hit the dome at
+almost the same instant and instead of the blinding crash they
+expected, the watchers saw the bombs rebound from the dome and fall
+harmlessly into the water.
+
+"Stymied!" muttered the doctor. "I wonder what other properties that
+confounded lamp has."
+
+He resumed his advance, Carnes and the soldiers keeping abreast of
+him. When they were within two hundred yards of the platform it rose
+again and the transparent dome rolled back. A beam of black shot forth
+over the swamp, searching them out and hiding them from view. First
+one and then another felt the effects of the black beam; but the
+vitrilene which the Doctor had provided stood them in good stead, and,
+aside from a slight shortening of their breath, none of the attackers
+felt any the worse.
+
+"Come on, men!" cried the Doctor as his athletic figure plowed forward
+through the breast-deep water. "That is their worst weapon and it is
+harmless against us!"
+
+Cheering, they fought their way toward the platform. It sunk for a
+moment and then rose again. As the dome swung back a sharp crackle of
+machine-gun fire sounded and the water before them was whipped into
+foam by the plunging bullets. One of the soldiers gave a sharp cry and
+slumped forward into the water.
+
+"Fire at will!" shouted the lieutenant in command.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A crackle of rifle fire answered the tattoo of the machine-gun, and
+the sharp ping of bullets striking on the dome could be plainly heard.
+An occasional shot kicked up a spurt of white dust from the concrete,
+but the machine-gun kept up a steady rattle of fire and the soldiers
+kept their heads almost at the level of the water. There came the roar
+of an airplane motor, and one of the planes swept over the platform, a
+hundred yards in the air, with two machine-guns spraying streams of
+bullets onto the platform. Two men abandoned their machine-gun and
+crouched under the partially folded-back dome as the second plane
+swept over, and Dr. Bird took advantage of the lull to advance his
+party a few yards nearer. Again the defenders of the platform rushed
+to their gun, but the first plane had turned and swooped down with
+both guns going, and again they were forced to take shelter while the
+Doctor and his force made another advance.
+
+The second plane had turned and followed the first, but the defenders
+had had enough. The transparent dome closed over them and the platform
+sank into the marsh. With a shout, Dr. Bird led the way forward again.
+
+The attackers were within a hundred yards of the platform when it
+again rose above the surface of the water. The guns had disappeared,
+but in their place stood an airship. It was a small affair with stubby
+wings above which were two helicopter blades revolving at high speed.
+No sound of a motor could be heard.
+
+The transparent dome rolled back and like a bullet the little craft
+shot into the air, followed by a futile volley from the soldiers.
+Hardly had it appeared than the two airplanes bore down on it with
+machine-guns going. The helicopter paid no attention to them for a
+moment, and then came a puff of smoke from its side. The leading plane
+swerved sharply and the helicopter fired again. The leading plane
+maneuvered about, trying to get a machine-gun to bear, while the
+second plane climbed swiftly to get above the helicopter and pour a
+deadly stream of fire down into it. It gained position and swooped
+down to the attack, but another puff of smoke came from the side of
+the helicopter and there was a thunderous report and a blinding flash
+in the sky. As the smoke cleared away, no trace of the ill-fated plane
+could be seen. The helicopter hung motionless in the air as though
+daring the remaining plane to attack.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The plane accepted the challenge and bore down at full speed on the
+stranger. Again came a puff of smoke, but the plane swerved and an
+answering shot came from its side. It was above the helicopter, and
+the shell which missed its mark plunged to the ground. When it struck
+there came a roar and a flash and the whole earth seemed to shake. The
+helicopter shot upward into the air and forward, both its elevating
+fans and its propellers whirling blurs of light. The airplane followed
+at its sharpest climbing angle, but was helpless to compete with its
+swifter climbing rival.
+
+"He's got away!" groaned Carnes.
+
+"Not yet, old dear!" cried the Doctor hopping with excitement. "He
+isn't safe yet. I never told you, but one Breslau gun had been made
+and it is on that plane. It has deadly accuracy and is good for
+fifteen miles. That's Lieutenant Dreen at the controls and Mason at
+the gun."
+
+As he spoke the plane swung around and made a half loop. For a few
+yards it flew upside down and then whirled swiftly. As it turned there
+came a sharp report and a puff of smoke from its rear cockpit. High
+above, the helicopter had ceased climbing and hovered motionless. As
+the plane fired, the helicopter shot forward like an arrow from a bow,
+and thereby spelled its doom. Not for nothing did Captain Mason bear
+the title of the best aerial gunner in the Air Corps. He had foreseen
+what the action of his opponent would be and had allowed for just such
+a move. Far up in the sky came a blinding flash and a cloud of smoke.
+When the smoke cleared the sky was empty, except for a little
+scattered debris falling slowly to the ground.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And that's that!" exclaimed Dr. Bird as he finished his examination
+of the underground laboratory with which the gun platform connected.
+"The lamp has gone to glory with Breslau's gun model and two of the
+best brains of the Young Labor party. I am sure that Stanesky was one
+of those two men. I wish the whole gang had been on board."
+
+"Don't you think that this is the end of it, Doctor?" asked Carnes.
+
+"No, Carnes, I don't. We know that the real brains of this outfit is
+Saranoff, and Saranoff is still alive. He probably won't try to use
+his black lamp again, because I will have a defence against it in a
+short time, now that I have seen it in action, but he'll try something
+else. The whole object of life to a loyal citizen of Bolshevikia is to
+reduce the whole world to the barbarous level in which they hold
+Russia, and they will spare no pains or effort to accomplish it. The
+greatest obstacle to their success at present is the President of the
+United States. He is loved and respected by the whole world, and if he
+is spared he will forge the world into a great machine for the
+preservation of peace and universal good will. That would be fatal to
+Bolshevikia's plans, and they will spare no effort to remove him. By
+the grace of God, we have saved him from harm so far, but until we
+remove Saranoff permanently from the scene, I will never feel safe for
+him."
+
+"What do you suppose they'll try next, Doctor?"
+
+"That, Carnes, time alone will tell."
+
+
+
+
+Phalanxes of Atlans
+
+BEGINNING A TWO-PART NOVEL
+
+_By F. V. W. Mason_
+
+[Illustration: _Agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped
+and worried their prey._]
+
+[Sidenote: Only in dim legends did mankind remember Atlantis and the
+Lost Tribes--until Victor Nelson's extraordinary adventure in the
+unknown arctic.]
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+The ice suddenly gave way under his foot, hurling Victor Nelson
+violently forward to lie in the deep snow at the bottom of a tiny
+crevasse, down which the merciless gale moaned like an anguished
+demon.
+
+"It's no use," he muttered bitterly. "We've fought hard, but we're
+done for."
+
+He lay still, stupidly watching his breath form tiny beads of ice on
+the ends of the fur which lined his parka. Until that moment he had
+not realized how thoroughly exhausted he was. Every muscle of his
+starved, bruised body ached unbearably. It wasn't so bad lying there
+in the soft snow. He could rest, then look later for the ice hummock
+behind which the plane lay sheltered. Rest! That's what he needed, a
+good long rest.
+
+But deep within him, a primal instinct stabbed his waning
+consciousness. "No," he gasped, and blinked his reddened eyes behind
+smoked goggles which dulled the shimmer of the aurora. "If I stop,
+I'll never get up."
+
+Shaken by the terrific velocity of the arctic gale he numbly clambered
+to his feet, then stooped with a stiff awkward motion to retrieve a
+Winchester rifle which lay half buried in the snow beside the blurred
+imprint of his body.
+
+"Wonder if Alden had any better luck?" The question burned dully in
+his brain. "Don't suppose so; there can't be anything alive in this
+God-awful wilderness." As he stumbled on he found no answer in an
+unbroken vista of wind-scored ice and drifting snow that, swirling
+high into the air, momentarily cut off the view of that black line of
+ice-capped mountains barely visible on the horizon.
+
+"Yes, if he hasn't found anything, we'll be dead or frozen stiff
+before to-morrow."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His soul--that of a true explorer--revolted, not at the thought of
+death, but that his and Alden's courageously won discovery of a
+majestic mountain range towering high over a polar region marked
+"unexplored" on the maps would now never be made public.
+
+Leaning forward against the merciless icy blast he painfully picked
+his way over a treacherous ice ridge, to be faintly encouraged by the
+fact that the towerlike hummock of ice marking the position of the
+plane now lay but a few hundred yards ahead.
+
+Bitterly he cursed that demon of ill-fortune who had sent the blinding
+snow storm which had forced down the plane ten long days ago at the
+very beginning of its triumphant return flight to the base at Cape
+Richards. Since that hour the storm gods had emptied the vials of
+their wrath upon the luckless explorers. Day after day, cyclonic winds
+made all thought of a take-off suicidal in the extreme. Three days
+ago the last of their food had given out, and, he mused, starvation is
+an ill companion for despair.
+
+Slip, slide and fall! On he fought until the final barrier was reached
+and he stood staring hopelessly down into a small natural amphitheater
+which sheltered the great monoplane. The ship was still there, its
+engine snugged in a canvas shroud and with the soft, dry snow banked
+up high in the lee of its silver gray fuselage. Numbly, like a man in
+the grip of a painful coma, Nelson shielded his face with a furry hand
+to scan the surrounding terrain. "Hell!" The door block of the igloo
+they had built was still snowed up; Alden was not there!
+
+"He's not back," he muttered, while his body swayed beneath the gale
+which smote him with fierce, unseen fists. "Poor devil, I hope he
+hasn't lost the way."
+
+All the bitterness of undeserved defeat stung his soul as he started
+down the incline into the hollow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Suddenly he paused. The rifle flew into the ready position and his
+chilled thumb drew back the hammer. "What's this?" On the snow at his
+feet was a bright, scarlet splash, dreadfully distinct against the
+white background. While his dazed brain struggled to register what his
+eyes saw, he looked to the right and left and discovered several more
+of the hideous spots. Then an object that gleamed dully in the polar
+twilight attracted his attention. He lumbered forward, stooped stiffly
+and caught up a long, half round strip of bronze.
+
+"What? Why? Oh--I'm crazy. I'm seeing things!" The pain in his empty
+stomach was now becoming excruciating. To steady himself he shut his
+eyes, shook his head as though to clear it, then looked again at that
+strip of metal in his hand. Attached to it were two slender strips of
+leather like straps, ending in small, bronze buckles.
+
+"Why, it's not from the plane," he stammered aloud. "Damned if it
+doesn't look like a greave the old Greek warriors used to wear to
+protect their shins."
+
+Suddenly alarmed and mystified beyond words, he shuffled forward over
+the snow, the greave yet clutched in a fur gloved hand. Presently two
+more objects, already half buried by the stinging, swirling drifts,
+caught his attention. One was the stock of Alden's rifle, protruding
+starkly brown from the unrelieved whiteness, and the other was a
+broken wooden shaft that ended a graceful but wickedly sharp bronze
+spear head.
+
+"I've either gone crazy," he said, "or I'm delirious. Yes, I must be
+clean nutty! There _couldn't_ be a human settlement within a thousand
+miles. Let's see what's happened."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the snow of a little wind-sheltered space behind the igloo he
+discovered the unmistakable and ominous signs of a struggle. An
+indefinite number of footprints, blurred but enormous in size, were
+marked in the snow. Here and there deep furrows mutely testified how
+Alden and the enemies against whom he struggled had reeled back and
+forth in vicious combat over a considerable area. Then, shaken by a
+new fear, he discovered Alden's left glove and a rag of some peculiar
+thick material that seemed to have a metallic finish. But what aroused
+his gravest fears were the numerous splashes of blood that here and
+there streaked the snow in gruesome relief.
+
+Only a moment Nelson stood, shaken by the merciless wind, scanning the
+piece of bronzed armor between his gloved hands with a fresh interest.
+It was beautifully fashioned, and decorated at the knee point with the
+wonderfully wrought figure of a dolphin.
+
+If he could only think clearly! But his brain seemed to lie in a
+red-hot skull. "Whatever's happened," he muttered, "I'd better not
+waste time; they couldn't have been here so long ago. Poor Alden! I
+wonder what kind of devils caught him?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Even before he had finished the sentence the aviator had taken up the
+partially obliterated trail of spattered blood drops. That what he
+sought appeared to be a maraudering party of giants restrained him not
+at all. The one clear thought burning in his weary brain was that
+Richard Alden, his best friend--the man with whom he had traveled over
+half the world, by whose side he had faced many a perilous
+situation--must at that moment lie in peril, the extent of which he
+could only surmise.
+
+"Must have been about a dozen of them," he said thickly. And, holding
+the Winchester ready, he commenced once more to plod on through the
+stinging sheets of wind-driven ice particles. More than once he had
+great difficulty in not losing that crimson trail, for here and there
+the restless, white crystals completely blotted out the splashes.
+
+All at once Nelson checked his pathetically slow progress, finding
+himself on the top of an eminence, looking down in what appeared to be
+a vastly deep natural amphitheater of snow and ice. At the bottom, and
+perhaps a hundred yards distant, was a curious black oval from which
+appeared to rise a dense, wind-whipped column of whitish vapor.
+
+"My eyes must be going back on me," muttered Nelson through stiffened
+lips. How intolerably heavy his fur suit seemed! His strength was
+about gone and that curious black mouthlike circle seemed infinitely
+far away. But, spurred by fears for his friend, he started downward
+for the precipitious trail leading directly towards it.
+
+Once he stepped inside the crater, he became conscious of a terrific
+side pressure which gripped him as a whirlpool seizes a luckless
+swimmer. The wind buffetted him from all angles, dealing him powerful
+blows on face and body, which, too strong for his weary body, sent him
+reeling weakly, drunkenly across the hard, glare ice towards the
+vortex. Twice he slipped, each time finding it harder to arise. But
+at last he approached what on closer inspection proved to be a
+subterranean vent of black rock.
+
+"Steam!" he gasped. "It's steam coming out of there!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Swayed by a dozen conflicting emotions, he paused, the Winchester
+barrel wavering like a reed in his enfeebled grasp.
+
+"The whole thing's crazy," he decided. "I must be frozen and lying
+somewhere, delirious. Poor Dick! Can't help him much now."
+
+Like a man in a nightmare who advances but feels nothing under his
+feet, Nelson staggered on towards that huge, gaping aperture of black
+rock. On the threshold a pool of melted snow water made him stare.
+
+"Hell!" he said. "It's only a volcanic vent of some kind." Then dimly
+came the recollection of Eskimo legends concerning thermal springs
+beyond the desolate and unknown reaches of Grant Land.
+
+His mind in an indescribable turmoil, Nelson splashed across a hundred
+yards of sodden snow, then shivered on wading knee deep through a pool
+of melted ice. Now he stood on the very threshold of that awful
+opening, dense clouds of vapor beating warmly against his chilled
+features.
+
+His goggles fogged at once, blinding him effectively as, with reason
+staggering under the accumulated stress of starvation and the
+circumstances of Alden's disappearance, he groped his way a few feet
+into the vent. With his left hand he pulled up the glasses from his
+sunken, blood-shot eyes.
+
+"It's warm, by God!" he cried in astonishment as the skin exposed by
+lifting the goggles came in contact with the air. "Must be some kind
+of earth-warmed cave."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Increasingly mystified, he caught up his rifle and strode on down the
+passage, at that moment illuminated by the last unearthly rays of the
+aurora borealis. A single, dazzling beam played before him like a
+powerful searchlight, to light a high vaulted tunnel of basalt rocks
+which were distorted by some long-gone convulsion of the earth into a
+hundred weird cleavages and faults. For that brief instant he found he
+could see perhaps a hundred feet down into a high roofed passage,
+along the top of which poured a tremendous stream of billowing,
+writhing steam.
+
+"If this doesn't beat all," he murmured; but for all of his
+apprehension he did not pause. Those bloody splashes bespeaking
+Alden's pressing need urged him on. "Looks like I'm taking a one way
+trip into Hell itself. Well, we'll soon see."
+
+Slipping and sliding over an almost impassable array of black rocks
+and boulders, Nelson fought his way forward, conscious that with every
+stride the air grew damper and warmer. Soon trickles of sweat were
+pouring down over his chest, tickling unbearably.
+
+Then all at once the ray of light faded, leaving him immersed in a
+blackness equalled only by the gloom of a subterranean vault. He
+stopped and, resting his rifle against a nearby invisible rock, threw
+back the parka hood and pulled off his gloves. He was amazed to feel
+how warm the strong air current was on his hands.
+
+"Beats all," he muttered heavily. "I wonder where they've taken
+Alden?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile his hands groped through fur garments now wet with
+melted-snow and ice particles, searching for the catch to open that
+pocket in which lay a small but powerful electric flashlight, an
+instrument without which no far-flying aviator finds himself. After a
+moment's fumbling, his yet stiffened fingers encountered the
+cylindrical flash and, with a low cry of satisfaction, he drew it
+forth to press the button.
+
+"Mighty useful. I--" The words stopped, frozen on his lips. Before the
+parka edge his close cropped hair seemed to rise, and his breath
+stopped midway in his lungs. Sharp electric shocks shook him, for
+there, half revealed in the feeble flashlight's glare, was a sight
+which shook his sanity to the snapping point. Not fifty feet away two
+eyes, large as dinner plates, with narrow vertical red irises, were
+trained on him. Rooted to the ground by the paralysis of utter horror,
+Nelson saw that their color was a weird, unhealthy, greenish white,
+rather like the color of a radio-light watch dial.
+
+Strangely intense, these huge orbs wavered not at all, filling him
+with an unnameable dread, while the strong odor of musk assailed his
+nostrils. The flashlight slipped from between Nelson's fingers and, no
+longer having his thumb on the button, flickered out.
+
+Helpless, Nelson stood transfixed against a boulder, aware that the
+strange, musky scent was becoming stronger. Then to his ears came a
+dry scrabbling as of some large body stealthily advancing. Those
+horrible, unearthly eyes were coming nearer! Fierce, terrible shocks
+of fear gripped the exhausted aviator. Then the impulse of
+self-preservation, that most elementary of all instincts, forced him
+to snatch up the rifle, to sight hastily, blindly, between those two,
+great greenish eyes. Choking out a strangled sob of desperation,
+Nelson made his trembling finger close over the cold strip of steel
+that must be the trigger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Like a stage trick, the cavern was momentarily lit by a strong, orange
+yellow glare. Then the Winchester's report thundered and roared
+deafeningly; coincidentally arose a nerve-shattering scream. An
+exhalation, foul as a corpse long unburied, fanned his face.
+Terrified, he flattened to the rock wall as a huge, though dangerously
+agile body hurtled by with the speed of a runaway horse. Presently
+followed the sound of a ponderous fall, then a series of shrill,
+ear-piercing gibberings and squeakings, like those of a titanic
+rat--squeaks that rang like the chorus of Hell itself. Gradually they
+grew fainter, while in the darkness the heavy air of the tunnel became
+rank with the odor of clotting blood.
+
+Nelson remained where he was, shaking like a frightened horse and
+bathed with a cold sweat.
+
+"Wonder what it was?" he muttered numbly.
+
+He broke off, for in the terrible darkness sounded a low but perfectly
+audible _thud! thud! thud! thud!_--and also the subtle noise of some
+rough surface rasping gently over the stone. His nerves crisped and
+shrieked for relief.
+
+"It's coming again!" he told himself, and ejected the spent cartridge
+from the Winchester. "No use--it'll get me, but I may as well fight as
+long as I can."
+
+Even stronger grew the musty smell of blood while that uncanny _thud!
+thud!_ sound continued at regular intervals. Nelson waited, breath
+halted and finger on trigger, but still the darkness yielded no
+glimpse of those awful saucer-like eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Emboldened, he stooped and, jerking off his left glove, commenced to
+grope among the boulders. Somewhere near at his feet the flashlight
+must be lying. Hoping against hope that its fall had not shattered the
+bulb, he ran his fingers over the cold, damp stones, every instant
+expecting to feel the clutch of the unseen monster. How tiny, how puny
+he was! All at once his fingers encountered the smooth familiar shape
+of the flash and he raised it cautiously through the darkness.
+Patiently he shifted the Winchester to his left hand in order to set
+the flashlight on the top of a flat rock, pointing it as nearly as he
+could determine in the direction from whence came those ominous,
+stealthy sounds.
+
+"Guess I'll switch on the light," he decided, "and trust to drop
+whatever it is before it reaches me."
+
+Taking a fresh grip on his quivering nerves, Nelson cautiously cocked
+the .38-55, cuddled the familiar stock to his shoulder. He sighted,
+then with his right hand pushed down the catch lever of the
+flashlight.
+
+Instantly a dazzling white beam shot forth to shatter the gloom. The
+hair on the back of Nelson's hands itched unbearably, while the cold
+fingers of madness clutched at his brain, for the sight which met his
+eyes all but bereft him of his wavering sanity. There, belly up,
+across a low ridge of basalt, lay a hideous reptile, which in form
+faintly resembled an enormous and fantastic kangaroo. Its scabby belly
+was of the unhealthy yellow of a grub, a hue which gave way to a
+leaden gray as the wart-covered skin reached the back. Two enormous
+hind legs, each thick as a man's torso and each equipped with three
+dagger-like talons, struck out in helpless fury at the air, while a
+long, lizard-like tail threshed powerfully back and forth, scattering
+ponderous boulders right and left as though they had been marbles. The
+flashlight being trained as it was, the monster's head and
+forequarters were invisible, all save two very much smaller and
+shorter front legs which, like the hinder ones, clawed spasmodically.
+
+"The D. T's!" gasped Nelson, conscious that he was trembling like an
+aspen. He suppressed a wild desire to laugh. "Yes, I've gone crazy!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He glanced downwards and leaped swiftly back, for, creeping over the
+stones towards his fur outer boots, meandered a wide rivulet of bright
+scarlet blood. From its surface rose small curling feathers of steam
+which, drifting towards the tunnel's roof, merged with that gray,
+vaporous current flowing steadily towards the sunless Arctic expanse
+outside.
+
+It took Nelson a long five minutes to sufficiently recover his
+equilibrium for action. All he could do was to stare at that
+grotesque, gargoyle-like creature as it writhed in leisurely and
+persistent death throes.
+
+"Guess I winged it all right! My God, what a nasty beast! Looks like
+one of those allosaurs I read about in college. It couldn't be,
+though--that tribe of dinosaurs died out five million years ago."
+
+Cautiously he scrambled around among the high black stones, casting
+the search light beams before him and holding the Winchester always
+ready in his hand while trying to recall snatches of palaeontology
+studied at college long years ago.
+
+"Yes, it must be a survival of one of the carnivorous dinosaurs," he
+decided, then paused, increasingly conscious of that steady thudding
+noise. What caused it?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At last he found himself before the creature's gigantic and repulsive
+head which lay limp over a blood bathed stone, huge jaws partially
+open, and serrated rows of wicked, stiletto-sharp teeth gleaming
+yellowly in the flashlight's rays. The head in shape was bullet-like,
+ending in a blunt nose as big as a bushel basket and in two prominent
+nostrils. The green, lidless eyes were still open, shining faintly,
+and seemed to follow his movements, but the steaming blood poured with
+the force of a small hose from between triple row of bayonetlike teeth
+that curved inward like those of a shark, to splash and bubble freely
+to the rock floor and to dribble horribly over the warty, gray hide.
+
+Then Nelson discovered an amazing fact. About the great scaly neck,
+thick as a boy's waist, was fastened a ponderous collar, set with
+short, sharp spikes.
+
+Nelson gasped. "What in hell!" he cried. "This damn thing's somebody's
+property!" His mind, staggered at the thought of dealing with a race
+that could and would domesticate such a hideous monster. "Well, it's
+no use standing here," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his eyes.
+"This isn't getting poor Alden away from those devils."
+
+_Thud! thud!_ In the act of turning he paused, listened once more.
+Then he discovered to his amazement that the heart of the apparently
+dead reptile was still beating strongly. He could even see the yellow
+skin of its belly rise and fall. The effect was grotesque, uncanny.
+
+"Of course," muttered the shaken aviator, "I'd forgotten a reptile's
+ganglions will keep on beating for hours, like that shark we killed
+off Paumotu. Its heart didn't stop for five hours."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leaving the slain allosaurus behind, the aviator limped onwards,
+doggedly following a trail which wound down, ever onwards, into the
+depths of the earth. Gradually the air became so filled with steam
+that he stripped off his fur jumper and trousers. Clad in a khaki
+flannel shirt, serge trousers and shoepacks, he paused long enough to
+count his cartridges, and found there were just fourteen. Hell! Not
+very many with which to venture into an unknown abyss. He distributed
+them in his pockets, and, somewhat relieved of the weight of the fur
+suit, took up his advance, playing the flashlight ahead of him as he
+went.
+
+"Poor Alden," he thought. "I wonder if he's still alive?"
+
+Every moment expecting to stumble over the mangled corpse of his
+friend he hurried on, making better time over the cavern floor, but
+soon even the lighter clothing commenced to feel oppressive.
+
+"Must be the earth's heat," he muttered, while the steam clouds rolled
+by him like ghostly serpents. "Guess the crust is very thin
+here--something like Yellowstone. Probably I'll find some thermal
+springs ahead."
+
+Just as he spoke the tunnel took a sharp turn to the right. He
+scrambled around the bend to stand petrified, for with the suddenness
+of lightning a flood of dazzling orange-red light sprang into being.
+Momentarily it blinded him, then revealed strange, incomprehensible
+scenes. It appeared that two short shafts of incandescent flame
+roared through transparent columns of glass on either side of the
+passage some fifty yards distant. Subconsciously Nelson realized that
+these columns began and ended in stonework that was smooth and well
+joined.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As his eyes became accustomed to the glare he distinguished beside
+each light pillar two bronze doors, some eight feet high and
+semicircular in shape. These had been evidently pulled back to expose
+the lights. Then his breath stopped in his throat, for there, standing
+beside them, was a gleaming group of six or eight of the strangest
+creatures Nelson could ever have imagined. They were men--there was no
+mistaking that--men of normal size, but they were so helmeted and
+incased in a curious type of armor that for a moment he believed them
+gargoyles.
+
+Quite motionless he stood, clutching the cold barrel of the Winchester
+in a spasmodic grip and staring up at those two watch-towers, built
+like gigantic swallows' nests into sheer rock wall. He could see the
+warriors stationed there, peering curiously down at him from the
+depths of heavy, bronze helmets--helmets which in shape much resembled
+those of an ancient Grecian hoplite, for the nose guards and cheek
+pieces descended so low as to completely mask the features of those
+strange guards. For crests these helmets bore exquisitely wrought
+bronze dolphins, with brilliant blue eyes of sapphire. But what
+fascinated Nelson most was the curious armor they wore. Beneath breast
+plates of polished bronze, these strange warriors wore what seemed to
+be a kind of chain mail--yet it was not that, for the texture had more
+the appearance of some heavy but pliant leather, finished with a
+metallic surfacing.
+
+Suddenly the spell of mutual amazement was broken, for a tall warrior
+in a breast plate that glittered with diamonds and seemed altogether
+more ornate than the rest, clapped a short brass horn to his lips and
+blew a single piercing note. At once there appeared on the tunnel's
+floor, not a hundred yards from the startled aviator, a rank of
+perhaps twenty soldiers, accoutred exactly like those he beheld by the
+light boxes. They came scrambling over the boulders, their shadows
+grotesquely preceding them. In their hands were long shafted spears,
+and on their left arms rectangular shields, charged with a lively
+dolphin in the act of swimming. Some of them, however, held short
+hoses in their hands, hoses that sprouted from tight brass coils
+strapped to their broad shoulders.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Again the commanding figure aloft raised the horn. From the tail of
+his eye Nelson caught the gleam of metal in the orange glare. While a
+blast, harsh as the scream of a fire siren, echoed and re-echoed
+eerily through the passage, there appeared a fresh detachment. Nelson
+shrank back in horror, for these bronze-armored warriors led, at the
+end of a powerful chain, two more of those huge, ferocious allosaurs,
+exactly like the one he had slain but a short while back.
+
+Like well regulated automatons the hoplite rank opened to permit the
+passage of those repulsive, eager monsters, then closed up again and
+halted, spears levelled before them in the precise manner of an
+ancient Grecian phalanx, while the men with those curious hose-like
+contrivances ran out to guard the flanks.
+
+"I'm done for now," thought Nelson as he threw off the Winchester's
+safety catch. "I suppose they'll turn those nightmares loose on me."
+
+He was right. For all the world as though they led war dogs, the
+keepers in brazen armor advanced, the dull metallic clank of their
+accoutrement clearly discernible above the sibilant hiss of their
+hideous charges, which hopped along grotesquely like kangaroos, using
+their long and powerful tails as a counterpoise.
+
+Then the officer watching from the left hand swallow's nest shouted a
+hoarse, unintelligible command, whereupon one of the keepers raised
+his right hand in a sharp gesture that instantly flattened the
+incredible monster to earth, exactly like an obedient bird dog.
+
+As in a fantastic dream Nelson watched one of the armored guardians
+unsnap the hook of the powerful chain by which his allosaurus was
+secured. Then, whistling sharply, he clapped his hands and pointed
+straight at the motionless aviator. The creature's green white eyes
+flickered back and forth, and a chill, colder than the outer Arctic,
+invaded Nelson's breast as those unearthly eyes came to rest upon him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile the other allosaurus remained crouched, whining impatiently
+for its keepers to cast it loose.
+
+Fixing burning eyes upon the American, the foremost keeper threw back
+his head. "Ahre-e-e!" he shouted. Instantly the freed allosaurus
+arose, balanced its enormous bulk, then commenced to leap forward at
+tremendous speed, clearing fifteen or twenty feet with each jump and
+uttering a curious, whistling scream as it bore down, a terrifying
+vision of gleaming teeth and talons.
+
+Shaking off the paralysis of despair, Nelson whipped up the Winchester
+and, as before, sighted squarely between those blazing, gemlike eyes.
+When the huge monster was but twenty feet away he fired, and the
+report thundered and banged in the cavern like the crash of a summer
+storm. In mid-air the ghastly carnivore teemed to stagger. Its tail
+twitched sharply as in an effort to recover its balance. Then, quite
+like any normal creature that is shot through the head, it lost all
+sense of direction and made great convulsive leaps, around and around,
+clawing madly at the air, bumping into the rock walls and uttering
+soul-shaking shrieks of agony. Like a gargoyle gone mad it reeled back
+towards the startled rank of spearmen. As it came, Nelson saw the
+second allosaurus rear itself backwards and, balanced on its tail,
+strike out with powerful hind legs as its maddened fellow drew near.
+
+Like razors the great talons ripped through the dying allosaurus'
+belly, exposing the gray-red intestines as the stricken creature raced
+by, snapping crazily at the empty air.
+
+A single mighty sweep of the monster's tail crushed five or six of the
+panic-stricken keepers and guards, strewing them like broken and
+abandoned marionettes among the stones. Hissing and obviously
+terrified, the second dinosaur watched the dying struggles of its
+mate; then, obedient to a terrified shout from its keepers, wheeled
+about to join in a frantic rout of the spearmen, who, casting aside
+shield, spear and brass coil, fled for dear life in the direction of
+those invisible passages through which they had appeared.
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+No less amazed and alarmed than those vanished soldiers, Nelson
+remained rooted to the ground, conscious that in the swallow's nest
+overhead there remained only the officer--a tall, broad shouldered man
+with golden beard showing from under the cheek pieces of his helmet.
+Across the body of the still writhing monster their glances met.
+Nelson could see by the light of those strange pillars of fire that
+the other's eyes were blue as any Norseman's. Leaning far out over the
+stone parapet the other stared down upon the aviator from the depths
+of his jewelled helmet in a strange mixture of curiosity and awe.
+
+Suddenly Nelson's nerves snapped and he shook a trembling fist at the
+martial figure above.
+
+"Go away!" he shrieked, and reeled back on the edge of collapse. "Go
+away, you damn phantom! You're driving me crazy--crazy, I tell you!"
+
+The other stiffened, then turned and, uttering a hoarse shout,
+vanished, leaving the noiseless and apparently heatless pillar of fire
+flaring steadily.
+
+Recovering somewhat, Nelson set his teeth, advanced to the nearest
+corpse, stooped and regarded him who lay there, with bronze helmet
+fallen off.
+
+"It's a man and not a ghost," he murmured as his finger encountered
+flesh that was still warm. "Red headed too, or I'm a liar. Now what in
+hell is all this?"
+
+For all his bewilderment he began to feel better and his swaying
+reason became steadier. "Bronze, bronze--nothing but bronze," the
+aviator told himself as he further examined the scattered equipment.
+"Evidently these fellows don't know the use of iron or steel."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With increased curiosity he bent over another splendidly built dead
+man who lay with back broken and sightless eyes staring fixedly onto
+the steam current meandering silently along the cavern's roof. From
+the fallen man's belt were slung half a dozen curious weapons that
+looked not unlike potato mashers, except that they were bronze headed
+and had wooden handles.
+
+"Hum," he commented, "kind of like the grenades the Boche used in the
+late lamented. Wonder what the devil these are?"
+
+Suddenly his ear detected the sound of a footstep and, on looking
+swiftly up, he beheld that same yellow bearded officer who had
+directed the attack. This strange being had taken off his ponderous
+helmet to carry it in his left hand, while his right was held
+vertically in the immemorial sign of peace. On he came with powerful
+martial strides, a brilliant green cloak flapping gently behind him
+and the jewels in his brazen armor glinting like so many tiny colored
+eyes. The stranger was indeed handsome, Nelson noticed--and then he
+received perhaps the greatest shock of the whole chimerical adventure.
+The gold bearded man halted some twenty feet away, smiled and spoke in
+a curiously inflected but perfectly recognizable voice.
+
+"Welcome to the Empire of the Atlans. Prithee, Wanderer, what be thy
+name?"
+
+For a long moment Nelson was entirely too taken back to make a reply.
+Desperately his already perplexed brain tried to comprehend. Here was
+a handsome six-footer, dressed in the arms of an ancient race,
+speaking English of the seventeenth century!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As at a phantom, he regarded the stalwart, faintly ominous figure,
+from heavy leather sandals to bronze greaves, thence to wide belt from
+which dangled more of those curious grenadelike objects. His glance
+paused on the officer's beautifully wrought bronze cuirasse or breast
+plate which showed in relief an emerald scaled dolphin and trident.
+These, Nelson decided, must be the national emblems of this
+incomprehensible nation.
+
+Then their eyes met, held each other a long moment until the tall
+officer's features, disfigured by a long red scar across the jaw,
+broke into a hard smile.
+
+"Hero Giles Hudson begs thy pardon," he said, "but methought thou
+spoke in the language of Sir Henry Hudson, my ancestor?"
+
+"Sir Henry Hudson!" stammered Nelson incredulously. "The old explorer
+whose men turned him adrift? So that's why you're talking embalmed
+English!" In desperation his weary brain strove to understand.
+
+"I know naught," replied the other with a grave smile, "save that the
+founder of our royal line spoke what he called English. He came from
+the Ice World to rule wisely over Atlans. He was the greatest
+Atlantean of history."
+
+"Atlantean?" echoed Nelson, while his mind groped frantically in the
+recess of his memory. "Atlans, Atlantis!" A great light broke upon
+him. "The lost Atlantis! Great God!" Had he stumbled upon a remnant of
+that powerful people whose fabled empire had been drowned ten
+centuries ago in the cold waves of the Atlantic?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Aye," the yellow haired warrior continued as though reading his
+thoughts, "long centuries ago this valley was peopled by those who
+escaped the great cataclysm which ended the mother country. Later came
+another race, barbarian wanderers like thyself." He bowed for all the
+world like a courtly English gentleman. "But methinks thou art in need
+of food and sustenance?"
+
+"You bet I'm hungry," was Nelson's emphatic reply. "I'm one short jump
+of starvation and the D. T.'s. But hold on a minute," he cried. "I'm
+looking for a friend of mine. He went by here, didn't he?"
+
+"Aye." A crafty expression Nelson did not like crept into Hero Giles
+Hudson's face as he solemnly inclined his head.
+
+"For the nonce, fair sir, thy companion is hale and sound. I beg your
+patience."
+
+With a quick gesture the Atlantean raised his dolphin-shaped horn and
+blew three short blasts while Nelson, in sudden alarm, cocked his
+rifle and brought it in line with the other's chest. The glittering
+officer saw the motion, but made no effort to move from the line of
+sights.
+
+"Thy gesture avails naught," said he with stiff courtesy. "When Hero
+Giles gives his word, it stands good though Heliopolis and the Empire
+of the Atlans fall."
+
+One by one half a dozen spearmen appeared, all obviously very
+frightened and only moved by an apparently Spartan discipline.
+Promptly they saluted, whereupon the Hero--as his title appeared to
+be--uttered a number of brief commands in some guttural language
+entirely unintelligible to the dazed aviator.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Presently a strange column appeared, composed of some fifteen or
+twenty disarmed men marching between a double rank of heavily equipped
+hoplites. As they drew near, they clasped imploring hands and
+evidently begged for mercy from the stern, tight jawed figure at
+Nelson's side. Contemptuous and unhearing the prisoners' piteous
+pleadings and lamentations, Hero Giles scowled upon them and
+deliberately turned his back.
+
+"What are they?" inquired Nelson, vaguely alarmed. "Enemies?"
+
+"Yes." There was a certain bitter savagery in the speaker's voice.
+"These are the dauntless defenders of Atlans who ran at the report of
+thy weapon. Presently they die."
+
+It was useless to interfere. The horrified aviator knew it and watched
+with compassionate eyes while the condemned soldiers were ranged in a
+single, white faced line. They remained silent now, seeming to have
+found courage now that hope was dead.
+
+Upon brief command from a subaltern, the guards wheeled about and
+retreated perhaps twenty yards down the passage. There they halted,
+glittering eyes peering through the slots in their helmets to fix
+themselves upon the rigid prisoners who stood numbly resigned to
+death.
+
+With surprising speed each member of that weird firing squad detached
+a brazen grenade from his belt, then threw back his arm in exactly the
+same attitude as a bomb-throwing doughboy. Then there came a short,
+sharp command and some fifteen or twenty grenades bobbed through the
+air to crash on the stones at the feet of the victims.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His head swimming with repulsion at the slaughter, Nelson beheld a
+curious sight. It seemed that from the broken grenades appeared a
+yellowish green vapor which sprung _of its own accord_ upon the silent
+upright rank! In an instant it settled like falling snow upon the
+doomed soldiers. For a breathless fraction of a second they stood,
+eyes wide with horror, then collapsed, kicking and struggling as men
+do under the influence of gas.
+
+"Horrible!" gasped Nelson. "What was in the bombs?"
+
+"A vapor," explained Hero Giles shortly. "A fungus vapor which,
+falling upon exposed flesh, instantly invades the blood and multiplies
+by millions. See--" He pointed to the nearest dead man and Nelson,
+with starting eyes, watched a yellowish growth commencing to sprout
+from the dead man's nostrils. Swiftly the poisonous mould threw out
+tiny branches, spreading with astounding rapidity over the skin until,
+in less than a minute after the grenades had exploded, the whole
+tumbled heap of dead were covered with a horrible yellow green fungus
+growth.
+
+"Thou seest?" Hero Giles demanded. "Powerful, is it not? It is against
+the fungus vapor we wear this body armor made from the skin of a small
+lizard which inhabits our mountains."
+
+Shocked and appalled, Nelson watched the retreat of the solemn, silent
+execution party.
+
+Other soldiers fell to unconcernedly stripping their fallen comrades
+of equipment; then, to Nelson's horrified surprise, two hideous
+allosauri reappeared, shepherded by some six or eight keepers. Once
+the horrible creatures were released, they pounced upon the dead and,
+snarling horribly, commenced to rend and devour the corpses.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Too shaken to comment or to make the protest he knew to be futile,
+Nelson followed the stalwart English-speaking officer into a bronze
+door set in the cavern wall and up a short flight of stairs into what
+appeared to be a guard room, where food and wine were immediately set
+before the famished aviator.
+
+"Yea," Hero Giles was saying as he set down a beautiful goblet and
+wiped the last traces of wine from his beard, "we will soon o'ertake
+thy friend. He was but little hurt, and thou wilt assuredly join him
+in judgment before our great Emperor, Altorius XXII, at Heliopolis,
+our capital."
+
+"Heliopolis?" mumbled Nelson, his mouth full of delicious stew that
+seemed to be made of veal. "Heliopolis? How far away is it?"
+
+"A hundred leagues more or less," the other smiled. "Almost a third of
+the distance up this great valley."
+
+"One hundred leagues! Three hundred miles! Then we won't be there for
+several days."
+
+The Hero's deep, rather ominous laughter rang out in the little rock
+hewn chamber. "Days?" he jeered. "Days? Art thou mad? In two hours
+from the time we board the tube-road thou shalt learn thy fate from
+his Serene Highness."
+
+"What!" Nelson's sunken and blood-shot gray eyes widened, while his
+jaw dropped incredulously. "One hundred leagues in two hours? As I
+remember there are about three miles to a league, so a hundred leagues
+in two hours means one hundred and fifty miles an hour! Why, that's
+utterly impossible! The Twentieth Century Limited doesn't go half so
+fast."
+
+Several enormous emeralds set into the other's bronze cuirasse
+glittered softly and the Hero's cold blue eyes hardened as his hand
+sought the grenade belt.
+
+"Impossible? Dost doubt my words, sirrah?" With an effort he
+controlled himself. "Nay, thou shalt see for thyself ere long. The
+tube-road runs from Heracles to Heliopolis. Thou canst trace its
+course on this map here on the wall."
+
+"The dog-born devils of Jarmuth have no such means of travel,"
+continued the Atlantean, with a touch of smug pride that reminded
+Nelson of a small town Middle Westerner speaking of the "rightest,
+tightest little town west of the Mississippi."
+
+Nelson found it extremely weird to be sitting there in a heavy arm
+chair, drinking good red wine with a fierce armor-clad warrior who
+wore sandals, sword and a war cloak such as might have graced the
+limbs of Alexander of Macedon. But with the food and rich warm wine,
+he felt blood, strength and self-confidence pouring back into his
+weary body. "Jarmuth?" he inquired. "What is Jarmuth?"
+
+At his question the domineering, predatory face across the table
+darkened and the scar on his cheek flamed red as a scowl of hatred
+gripped Hero Giles' visage.
+
+"Jarmuth!" snarled the Hero, and his great hand closed like a vise.
+"Jarmuth! A nation of treacherous, gold-adoring cannibals, whose
+countless hordes, spawned in the hot lowlands, ever threaten our
+frontiers. I tell thee, Friend Nelson, the dog-sired Jereboam will not
+rest until mighty Heliopolis lies in a heap of smoking ashes."
+
+"Evidently," thought Nelson, taken aback at the other's vehemence,
+"this lad's English only in speech. I guess he's all Atlantean outside
+of that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Warming to a fiercer pitch, the other fixed his guest with a
+smoldering gaze. "Jarmuth lies beyond Apidanus, the boiling river, and
+is the home of a savage horde whose horrid rites in Jezreel, the
+capital, stink as an offense to Saturn and the High Gods! Why, mark
+you," the warrior prince continued, interrupting his tirade to gulp a
+goblet of wine, "five years ago, by treachery, they seized the
+beauteous Altara, sister of our gracious Emperor, and upon the annual
+feast of Beelzebub, that vile demon they worship, the dark dogs would
+have sacrificed and devoured her, according to their rites, had not
+our Emperor dispatched a ransom of six fair maidens to take her place.
+
+"Every year since then Jereboam has exacted that same tribute. Every
+year their princes and priests gorge themselves on the tender white
+flesh of our fairest and noblest maidens. But this tribute must end!
+The augurs have told us so. Help will come from the Ice World." Hero
+Giles brought crashing down on the table a brawny fist, on whose
+wrist was fixed a bright, gem-studded bracelet.
+
+Horror-stricken, Nelson nodded.
+
+"It is for this alone," continued the Hero somberly, "that thy life
+and that of thy friend have been spared."
+
+"So? I didn't notice," broke in Nelson, "that you particularly went
+out of your way to preserve my health a while back."
+
+The heavy golden head shook slowly and a grim smile played about those
+thin cruel lips. "Nay, but I could have had thee slain. Come, as we go
+to the tube-road I'll show thee how much thou liest in the hollow of
+this, my hand." He thrust out a broad, powerful palm. "Forget not,
+fair sir. At any moment I or my Imperial Master may choose to close
+that hand."
+
+"Perhaps!" stated Nelson, feeling it imperative to keep up his pose of
+independence. "But it might just happen that your hand would close on
+a porcupine, and so far from hurting the porcupine it would be your
+hand that would be hurt."
+
+"Sirrah!" The Atlantean sprang to his feet and one hand shot to the
+grip of his ponderous, bronze sword; but even more quickly Nelson
+snatched up his rifle, a thin smile playing on his lips.
+
+"Drop it," he snapped. "Control yourself, or I'll plug you like that
+allosaur. Be reasonable, can't you? We both want something, and
+perhaps can help each other gain it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The taut, menacing figure in armor relaxed and, with a gentle clank of
+accoutrement, Hero Giles resumed his seat.
+
+"Prithee pardon me," he apologized ungraciously. "I was ever a
+hot-head and there is much in what thou sayest. We wish to force an
+end to this annual tribute--if not to regain our beloved Altara. And
+thou"--his heavy, golden eyebrows shot up--"and thou, what dost thou
+wish?"
+
+Nelson lowered the menacing barrel. "I want the return of Richard
+Alden, free passage back to that spot where he was captured and plenty
+of food and help should we need it. If I aid you in one, you must
+promise me in the other."
+
+"Aye," returned the other doubtfully. "But I myself can pledge naught
+save thy immediate safety. 'Tis for our Imperial Majesty to say
+whether both thou and thy friend shall live, or whether ye shall feed
+our war dogs. Come now, we must go to Heliopolis."
+
+[Illustration: _Map of Jarmuth and Atlans_]
+
+Picking up his heavy, bronze helmet the Atlantean prince set it on his
+yellow head and waited impatiently for Nelson to drain the last of his
+wine. Then, with a swirl of his green cloak, he vanished through the
+rock wall, closely followed by a singularly distracted and alarmed
+aviator.
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A bright yellow glare steadily increased to mark the end of the tunnel
+down which the two had progressed; then, with the sharp abruptness of
+a hand-clap, there resounded a loud challenge in that unintelligible
+Atlantean language, above which the hiss of steam could be loudly
+heard.
+
+Instantly the Atlantean prince strode forward, a commanding figure.
+Momentarily his helmet and the dangling grenadelike bombs were sharply
+outlined against that unearthly yellow light. He raised his hand and
+dropped it, palm outward, to his chin in what must have been a salute.
+The hissing sound of steam then faded into silence.
+
+Followed at a respectful distance by a pair of silent, bronze-helmeted
+hoplites, Nelson and his guide descended a narrow stair, which
+broadened at the base. It was a very long staircase composed of
+perhaps two or three hundred steps which were occasionally interrupted
+by wide stone terraces. On these level spaces were fixed what appeared
+to be enormous field guns of glittering brass. They were similar, yet
+somehow oddly dissimilar, to the great guns Nelson had seen in
+France.
+
+"Behold, oh Wanderer," Hero Giles declaimed impressively, "the lands
+of Atlans and Jarmuth!"
+
+It was a weird landscape that met Nelson's half-unbelieving gaze, a
+landscape green with that brilliance peculiar to spring meadows, lying
+beneath the same deep blue sky that overarched the surrounding barren
+ice fields which hemmed in this astounding valley.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A slight smile played over Hero Giles' thin lips as he watched the
+amazed aviator.
+
+"The splendor of our country must indeed astound thee," he observed,
+"having come from the dreary fastness of the outer Ice World. But
+come; we are now to pass the great retortii guarding the entrance into
+the valley."
+
+Nelson's eyes turned again to the weapons that so oddly resembled
+field guns. He examined them closely, inspecting them narrowly for the
+differences he knew must exist between them and the artillery that had
+thundered during the War of the Nations.
+
+The chief difference lay in the mounting of these starkly beautiful
+weapons. They seemed to be fixed on a movable pivot set into the coal
+black rock itself. Like modern artillery, these curious pieces of
+ordnance bore a bronze shield to protect their crews, through which
+projected the long and very narrow barrels of the guns. Grouped like
+cannoneers about their piece stood various red-crested Atlantean
+artillerymen. At a glance Nelson recognized the difference in their
+equipment from that of the spearmen behind them. These former bore no
+shields, no swords or bombs, but wore that same kind of leather
+body-armor which graced the powerful limbs of Hero Giles. Their
+helmets, too, were different: only the dolphin crest with a tuft of
+red feathers spouting from it bore any resemblance to those of the
+infantry, and, moreover, the artillerymen's eyes were shielded by
+goggles with thick blue lenses.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As the Hero approached, officers among them saluted, then sank on one
+knee with head humbly bent.
+
+"Rather odd looking guns," commented Nelson. "I'm not much of an
+artilleryman, but I'm wondering how you take up the recoil?"
+
+The Atlantean's laugh, which always reminded his guest of the purr of
+a tiger, rang out. "Why, marry, good sir, there is no recoil! These
+guns do not use that powder which Sir Henry, founder of our line, did
+speak of. Thou wouldst see one fired?"
+
+His curiosity immeasurably piqued, Nelson nodded, whereupon the
+Atlantean wheeled about and barked a brief command. With truly
+Prussian precision, the artillerymen sprang to their posts, some to a
+series of levers which sprouted from the rock platform without any
+apparent connection, and some to wheels and gauges of varying size
+that clustered in bewildering intricacy about the breech of the great
+brass gun.
+
+"Markest thou that tree yonder, on the ledge of the valley?" The
+Atlantean's blunt outstretched finger indicated a towering pine
+sprouting from among a mass of reddish volcanic rock at the rim of
+that new world.
+
+"Yes, I see it, but--" Nelson was astounded. A pine tree in the upper
+Arctic! That alone was sufficient cause for amazement. From a stiff
+red-plumed gun captain issued a brief series of commands which set the
+wonderfully drilled crew to silently adjusting their training and
+elevating mechanism. Click! Clack! Sis-s-s-s!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+All up and down the vast staircase other gun crews stood watching.
+Nelson saw their weird, bluish goggles raised to that platform where,
+for all the world like a coast defense howitzer, the great cannon
+swung majestically about on the ponderous, brazen column which seemed
+to support it. Gradually the muzzle was elevated, then traversed a few
+feet, to finally come to a halt.
+
+"Jakul, a Hero!" shouted the gun captain, his hand raised to Hero
+Giles.
+
+"Thou art ready, Friend Nelson?" he inquired in tolerant amusement.
+"Mark well yon pine tree!
+
+"Storr!"
+
+Nelson saw one of the armored cannoneers bend forward, firmly grasp a
+short lever with both hands. In anticipation of a terrific report, the
+aviator pressed finger tips to his ears. There followed not a
+thundering crash, but a curious, eery, high-pitched scream, rather
+like that of a fire siren. There was no smoke! Nelson's incredulous
+eyes sought the muzzle of the gun and detected issuing from it what
+appeared to be a thin, white rod. This shimmering stream of silver
+shot straight towards the pine tree, gradually widening and giving off
+feathery billows of steam. In a fraction of a moment the target was
+completely veiled from sight in a furious pall of clouds which, to
+Nelson's great astonishment, did not dissipate nor condense with the
+speed of ordinary steam.
+
+"Nava!"
+
+With impressive suddenness the screaming sound faded, leaving a sort
+of stunned silence on the gun platform. The gunners stalked back to
+their original stations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Slowly, reluctantly, the mist enveloping the pine tree cleared away
+and Nelson felt a chill creeping up his spine. The pine was a good
+three hundred yards away, yet now it sagged limp to earth, stripped of
+bark, twigs and needles, only the bright yellow trunk and major
+branches remaining.
+
+"That tree was a good two feet thick," mused the astounded aviator,
+"yet the steam gun bent it like a sapling. My God! What would it do to
+a man?"
+
+"What thinkest thou of our retortii?" The Atlantean's beard glinted
+like metal as he shook with a grim, silent laughter. "These great
+retortii can shoot half a league and will blast any living thing in
+their path. I tell thee, friend Nelson, the discharge of even a small
+retortii will strip the flesh from a man's bones as a peasant strips
+the husk from an ear of corn!"
+
+"Fearful, terrible!" was Nelson's awed comment. "Is there no defence
+against them?"
+
+"Of course." The Hero's green feather-crested helmet gleamed with a
+nod. "Was there ever an instrument of war that had not its defence?
+Yea, we have the blue vapor to shatter steam particles--it is called
+the blue maxima. Thou wilt presently see some of our troops armed with
+it."
+
+"But where does this steam come from? How is it generated?" These two
+were the first of a host of questions which trembled on Nelson's lips.
+
+"The steam," replied the Atlantean, "comes from the earth. We compress
+it many times, then feed it into our retortii. Without the heat of
+Mother Earth and our flame suns we would all perish. Steam is our
+motive power, our defence and our enemy!"
+
+He flung his hand towards the vast valley stretched before them. It
+was hemmed in on either side by colossal breath-taking mountain
+ranges, whose caps shone and glittered with an eternal snow.
+
+"Some foothills! They must rise all of 25,000 feet from the valley
+floor," decided the aviator, "and I should imagine this valley is a
+good mile below sea level. Yes! That must be it: this nightmare
+country lies in a huge geographical fault--something like the Dead
+Sea."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mile after mile he could see fertile green land stretching away toward
+some low undulating hills on the horizon. Atlans was very thickly
+settled--that he recognized at once--for the terrain was divided and
+sub-divided into a vast checker-board, such as he had seen in France
+and Germany, while terraces, green with produce, had been laboriously
+gouged out of the frowning mountain sides.
+
+Then his eye encountered the source of that curious amber light which
+pervaded the whole valley. A titanic flaming gas vent spouted like a
+cyclopean torch from the peak of a nearby mountain. Its steady,
+subdued roar struck Nelson's ear as he turned away his eyes, for the
+glare was too intense to be long endured. Further down the valley were
+two more such incandescent vents, shooting their flaming tongues
+boldly into the sky, warming the air and casting that rich, amber
+radiance over all.
+
+"That is Mount Ossa nearest us," the Atlantean's voice came as though
+from a long distance. Victor Nelson was too staggered, too unspeakably
+amazed to register the fact of the Hero's proximity. "Below are Pelion
+and Jilboa, which, with Jabor, the greatest of all the flames,
+illuminate and warm the valley."
+
+Nelson's eye, trained to be all observant, ranged far and wide, noting
+the presence of many lacy, frothing geysers which spouted at varying
+intervals. There were, also, many steaming ponds and waterfalls which
+sprang in smoky confusion from the rock palisades to either side.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nearer at hand he could distinguish a number of huge stone structures,
+evidently forts and public buildings. Strategically placed all about
+were more of those terrible brass retortii, gleaming dully under the
+incandescent glare of the flame sun.
+
+"Come," cried Hero Giles with an impatient gesture of his hand, "we
+must e'en hasten to the tube-road terminal. Word has long since been
+sent to Heliopolis of thy arrival."
+
+Downwards into the valley, which grew ever warmer and more fertile,
+the Atlantean led on, explaining a thousand and one details to the
+astounded aviator. Presently they approached the nearest of the great
+stone structures and Nelson received yet another shock. In a courtyard
+was drilling what would correspond to a troop of cavalry in the outer
+world. In orderly ranks the troopers wheeled, marched and
+counter-marched, their brazen armor twinkling and clashing softly as
+they carried out their evolutions with an amazing precision. But what
+astonished Nelson was the fact that each of these strange troopers
+bestrode a lithe, long-limbed variety of dinosaur, a good half smaller
+than the allosauri he had encountered in the tunnel. These agile
+creatures ran about on their hind legs with astonishing speed, using a
+long reptilian tail as a balance.
+
+On the back of each trooper was fastened a compact circular copper
+tank, from which sprouted a flexible metal hose that ended in what
+looked like a ponderous type of pistol.
+
+In distinction to the red of the artillerymen and the blue of the
+Hoplites, these curious cavalrymen wore brilliant crests of yellow
+feathers, and from their lance tips fluttered tiny pennons of that
+same color.
+
+"They must travel at least as fast as a race horse," decided the
+aviator after studying the swift evolutions of the scaly chargers. To
+his ears came the curious dry scrape and rattle of their horny claws
+on the stone pavement of the drill yard.
+
+He would have lingered to see more, for those grotesque, lizard-like
+chargers interested him immensely, but Hero Giles beckoned
+imperiously. So, dropping the Winchester to the hollow of his arm,
+Nelson followed him into the brilliantly gas-lit depths of the great
+structure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Everywhere were red bearded, white skinned soldiers, staring at him
+with the frank curiosity of children. Powerful, magnificently built
+fellows they were, all in uniforms of different designs.
+
+The walls about him, Nelson noticed, were covered with really
+beautiful friezes depicting various warlike scenes in that pure beauty
+of proportion found only in ancient Grecian temples.
+
+On and on through resounding tunnels, past busy markets and barracks,
+hurried the two travelers. Then the Atlantean halted before a
+gracefully arched doorway where stood two hoplites, who immediately
+lowered spears to bar the passage. At a word from Hero Giles, however,
+they saluted and fell back in position--immovable, grim guardians.
+
+Inside was a short staircase, beautifully wrought of bronze. Up this
+flashed the Atlantean's mail-clad body; then he came to a halt under
+the direct rays of a blinding light.
+
+Nelson, on arriving above, discovered that the chamber was lined with
+jointless brass about ten feet high and circular in shape. "What's
+this?" he demanded curiously.
+
+"The terminal of the tube-road. In a moment thou shalt see the great
+cylinder arrive."
+
+The words were hardly by the Hero's lips when there appeared,
+noiselessly and amid a great rush of air, a huge metal cylinder that
+ran upon a sort of truck. It rumbled up to the edge of the platform
+and from its end a small door was opened.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hero Giles exchanged a few sentences with an elderly man who appeared
+to act as control master, then he indicated the glowing doorway of the
+cylinder.
+
+Firmly clutching his Winchester, Nelson bowed his head and stepped
+inside, there to discover a luxury he had never anticipated. The
+interior of the cylinder was brilliantly lit and on both sides were
+ranged wide divans, strewn with many silken cushions. In a rack nearby
+were several graceful glass amphora, filled with red and tawny wine.
+
+"The cylinder must be about thirty feet long," the marvelling American
+told himself, "and about ten feet in diameter. Guess it works on the
+same principle as the compressed air tubes the department stores use
+to send change with."
+
+Gingerly he tested the nearest divan and marvelled at the curious
+softness of what appeared to be a gigantic tiger skin. Meanwhile Hero
+Giles entered, his stern features even more serious, but with him was
+a younger man who resembled him not a little.
+
+"Fair brother," said the Atlantean to his companion, "this is he of
+whom I spoke. Friend Nelson, this is Hero John, my next youngest
+brother--he, too, speaks the language of the great Sir Henry Hudson."
+
+The metallic clang of the door being shut brought a sharp qualm to
+Nelson's heart. "What are they doing?" he demanded quickly.
+
+"The menials bolt the door beyond," explained Hero Giles with amused
+gravity. "In a moment our cylinder will be placed in the dispatching
+chamber, where steam pressure will be exerted. We shall then be hurled
+through this vacuum tube-road to Heliopolis, greatest city of Atlans.
+In an hour we will be there."
+
+Outside sounded the sudden insistent clangor of a gong, and
+immediately the hiss of steam grew louder. The car shuddered as the
+hissing rose to an eery scream, then all at once the cylinder leaped
+forward, nearly hurling Nelson from his seat. He struggled as best he
+might to gain his equilibrium, for the eyes of the others were on him.
+
+Then, more smoothly, the great cylinder gathered speed and hurtled on
+through the darkness of the tube-road towards Heliopolis, where Victor
+Nelson would read the book of Fate.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+On the arrival platform at Heliopolis reigned a fierce excitement.
+Nelson noted countless armed and unarmed warriors hurrying to and fro,
+desperately intent on reaching their various posts, and snarling
+ill-temperedly as they elbowed their fellows aside. As soon as they
+appeared, Hero Giles and his brother became the center of an excited
+press of gorgeously armored officers.
+
+"Hum!" murmured the aviator under his breath. "Something's happened.
+Must be a revolution, an earthquake or a Democratic convention in
+town; these boys seem all steamed up."
+
+Intently he studied the ring of fierce, red bearded faces surrounding
+his late hosts and gathered that indeed some event of overwhelming
+importance had taken place. Presently a splendid falcon-eyed old man
+in a yellow cloak strode up, struggling to control himself. His
+resemblance to the two Heroes struck Nelson immediately.
+
+"Harken ye," he cried, in that Elizabethan English which appeared to
+be the hieratic language of the New Atlantis' rulers. "Have ye heard?
+The dog-conceived sons of Semites have broken the truce! But three
+measures gone by, a brigade of their mounted podokesons swooped down
+on this very suburb of Tricca, yea, to the very gates of Heliopolis!
+The foul man-eating dogs slaughtered royal serfs and burnt two
+quarters of the suburb to the ground! Moreover, they seized that
+prisoner"--Nelson's heart gave a great leap at the word--"whom thou
+sentest from the mountain passes."
+
+"What!" In two swift strides Nelson was before the gray beard, his
+blood-shot eyes blazing with a strange light. "What did you say about
+that prisoner?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The old man, who had obviously not noticed Nelson's presence, was
+thunderstruck to hear him speak in English until Hero Giles briefly
+explained his presence.
+
+"Yea!" continued the elder, flinging lamentations furiously over his
+shoulder, "these swine of the Lost Tribes captured him and slew his
+escort. They have retreated towards the Apidanus, slaying, burning and
+pillaging as they go."
+
+A sickening, deadly fear gripped the weary aviator. This was too much!
+Bad as it was to have Richard Alden captured by these weird
+descendants of a long vanished race, it was far worse to have him
+fall into the hands of their deadly enemies, the Jarmuthians, decadent
+survivors of Israel's Five Lost Tribes. The possibility of a rescue
+now seemed hopelessly and crushingly vague and distant. What could he
+do now?
+
+In dread despair he glanced about, amazed at the prodigious numbers of
+scowling men who hurried by, obviously intent upon the commencement of
+a campaign for revenge.
+
+Then Hero Giles turned his scarred, warlike face, now set in granite
+lines. "Come, Friend Nelson, my uncle Anthony bids me take thee direct
+to the presence of His Serene Splendor, where he lies encamped at
+Cierum, by the shores of Lake Copias. There he marshals the army of
+Atlans for a march through the hot country on Jezreel. I tell thee,
+thou hast come in stirring times. From Heraclea, Thebes, Ys and Mayda
+will come the Phalanxes. Once and forever we will deal the dogs of
+Jarmuth a final blow."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Victor Nelson never forgot the hours that followed. Issuing at a fast
+trot from the tube-road terminal, the two Heroes led the way to a vast
+structure, in which were stabled both the terrific allosauri and the
+podokesauri, those swift dinosaurs which seemed to serve the
+Atlanteans as horses. The dreadful hiss and snarl of these monsters
+resounded in his ears long before the stables came in sight, and that
+curious musky odor he had noted in the tunnel was sickeningly strong.
+
+Everywhere he read signs of hurried preparations for war. Savage,
+surly allosauri were led from their stables, one by one, long necks
+writhing snakelike backwards and forwards. Then their keepers would,
+after a moment's tussle, secure huge leather muzzles over their gaping
+jaws, and the huge reptiles would be led waddling along on their hind
+legs out into a vast courtyard, there to hiss and strike at their
+nearest fellows.
+
+"Thinkest thou couldst ride a podoko?" inquired Hero John, an anxious
+look on his handsome, friendly features. "They are difficult to
+manage--but swift in flight as the birds themselves!"
+
+"I don't know," replied the aviator, "but I'm damn well going to try.
+If your Emperor can help me rescue Alden, the sooner we get started,
+the better."
+
+For all his brave resolutions, his heart sank, as the green kilted
+keeper led forth three podokesauri. Nelson stared curiously at them
+as, hopping along, they drew near, to bare needle-sharp teeth at him
+while, brazen stirrups on either side jangled softly against their
+rough, scaly hides.
+
+In evident high spirits the beasts snuffed the air and pawed with
+their tiny front legs excitedly, making their sharp talons glisten
+like polished steel. A bridle dangled from the mouth of each and a
+ring set in the thick upper lip served as a further means of control.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a sharp "_Oya_!" from an old and toothless keeper, the first podoko
+sank flat to the stone floor like a kneeling camel.
+
+"A sturdy beast," commented Hero Giles, tightening his belt and
+securing the clasps to the emerald-green war cloak. "Here, Friend
+Nelson, thou hadst best don a helmet; the podokos on occasion throw
+back their heads and so might wound thee." So saying, he set foot in
+stirrup and swung up into a saddle which was built up high in the
+cantle to correct the sharp downward slope of the reptile's muscular
+back.
+
+At a signal, Hero Giles' ugly mount rose to its height and shuffled
+awkwardly sidewise, as the old keeper, his eyes very wide and curious,
+led forward Nelson's charger.
+
+"Look," said Hero John with a reassuring smile. "The chin strap
+buckles so--be sure it fits snug, else it will pound on thy head to
+the podoko's stride. If thou wouldst turn to the left, pull the rein
+so, to the right so, and if thou wouldst stop, pull strongly on the
+nose ring; 'tis not so difficult." He laid a friendly hand on Nelson's
+flannel clad shoulder. "How wilt thou manage thy curious weapon?" he
+inquired doubtfully. "Perhaps thou hadst best leave it behind."
+
+There was a grim smile on Nelson's weary and wind burned features.
+"Not on your life, old son! This Winchester and I stick closer
+together than the Siamese twins."
+
+Nelson thrust his foot into a heavy stirrup, eased his weight into the
+high peaked saddle and gripped the pommel, for though an excellent
+horseman, he had no clue as to what motion would ensue. It was wise he
+did so, for the podoko reared suddenly, almost flinging his rider from
+the saddle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Immediately Hero John mounted, raised his right hand and dealt his
+podoko a stinging slap on the fore-shoulder. The great reptile hissed
+in protest, but commenced to walk off with an awkward, hopping step.
+Nelson's mount followed suit.
+
+Faster and faster ran the podokos, their long and scale-covered necks
+stretched far out ahead while their tails lifted correspondingly, much
+like that of an airplane about to take off.
+
+"Whew! He must be doing all of forty-five," gasped Nelson, while the
+wind whistled about his ears and snapped madly at the yellow crest of
+his brazen helmet.
+
+The ride which ensued remained forever fixed in the aviator's memory.
+Like so many shots from a gun the three podokos darted off out of the
+stables, past a gate guarded by a battery of retortii, whose red
+plumed cannoneers sprang to attention as the three strangely assorted
+riders sped out into the amber, perpetual light of Atlans.
+
+Nelson, on finding his balance, looked about him to receive
+impressions of immensely tall structures, of pyramids which, like the
+ziggurats of Sumaria, and Babylon, were surmounted with beautifully
+proportioned temples.
+
+"Must be at least a million people in this burg of Heliopolis,"
+thought Nelson, easing his Winchester.
+
+Hour after hour they sped along, frequently overtaking detachments of
+troops. Twice they halted to change mounts, though the podokos seemed
+quite tireless.
+
+At the end of five hours' furious riding, Nelson beheld a dense white
+cloud low on the horizon.
+
+"What's that?" he demanded. "Fog?"
+
+"No," Hero John informed him. "Yonder flows the Apidanus, the boiling
+river. Not far away to the left lies the frontier fortress of Cierum,
+where is encamped the Emperor, who will sit in judgment upon thee."
+
+Nelson's heart sank. He had been so occupied with his fears for Alden
+that he had not dwelt upon his own precarious position.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Scarcely half an hour elapsed, if Nelson's wrist watch were running
+correctly, before he reached the tremendous, swarming camp of Altorius
+XXII, Emperor of Atlans. Hero Giles proved to be a powerful talisman,
+for everywhere officers and men alike saluted respectfully and sank on
+one knee as he passed.
+
+"Wait here," he snapped, as the podokos sank obediently to the dust.
+"Brother John, do thou guard Friend Nelson while I seek permission of
+His Serene Splendor to bring the Wanderer into the Presence."
+
+Almost immediately the elder Atlantean returned, a frown on his
+scarred, rather brutal visage. "Come," he muttered, "but I fear for
+thee, Friend Nelson; His Splendor is in a savage mood--this raid hath
+stirred his ire beyond all bounds."
+
+"Nothing like cheering up a patient before he goes into the operating
+room," thought Nelson, and quietly threw off the safety on his
+Winchester. "Six shots," he reflected. "Well, if I go, I reckon I'll
+take some damn good company along."
+
+The aviator was led down a long passage, at every ten feet of which
+was posted an enormous scowling guard, whose spears, retortii and
+armor were painted a brilliant jade-green. Then a musical, deep-toned
+gong boomed twice, and Hero Giles halted before an exquisitely wrought
+door, which, without any apparent propulsion, silently slid back into
+the massive stone walls, revealing a huge, brilliantly lit circular
+chamber that was hung with emerald-green hangings. In the center,
+surrounded by a royal guard of nobles in splendidly jeweled armor, was
+reared a dais, upon which stood a throne that blazed with the most
+varied collection of diamonds that Nelson could ever have imagined.
+
+"Down on your face," rasped Hero Giles as, in common with his brother,
+he knelt and then fell prostrate on the cool black marble floor.
+
+"Damned if I will," murmured Nelson, and remained erect.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bolt upright, he looked across the interval and found himself staring
+into the furious eyes of one of the handsomest men he had ever beheld.
+Gripping his Winchester in a kind of "port arms" position, he stood to
+attention--by some curious kink of the brain reverting to his military
+days. And so the two men, different as day and night, faced each
+other. Altorius XXII clad in robes of scarlet, and a glittering
+cuirasse that glowed like the evening sun. His yellow head was truly
+splendid, reminiscent of that of a young Roman Emperor. The hair, like
+that of the Hudsonian Heroes, was blond, curly and close cropped. Yes,
+thought the awed but self-contained American, there was something
+genuinely imperial about the Emperor's aquiline visage, for a high
+intelligent forehead and piercing blue eyes dominated a strong mouth,
+which was marred by a decidedly cruel twist at the corners. On him,
+also, was set the stamp of Sir Henry Hudson's dauntless race.
+
+"Put him is a business suit and a soft gray hat," mused Nelson, "and
+you would find a dozen like him in any of London's best clubs."
+
+"Down on thy face, sirrah!" Outraged, the Emperor's voice rang like
+the peal of a brazen trumpet through the great pillared audience
+chamber. The nearest guardsmen held themselves ready, hand on sword
+hilt.
+
+"No." Nelson's shaggy black head went back as he found his tongue at
+last. "No, Your Majesty. In America we have our own way of showing
+respect for authority. I'm an American and, with all respect, I'll
+salute you as one."
+
+So saying, his hand flicked up in a sharp military salute to the visor
+of that Atlantean helmet which he still wore.
+
+"All damn foolishness," he silently told himself. "I feel like the
+lead in a ten, twenty, thirty melodrama. But I suppose it's got to be
+done."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Emperor's teeth gleamed in a half snarl as he sprang with Jovian
+wrath to his feet.
+
+"Dog! How darest thou bandy words with us?"
+
+"Have mercy!" hoarsely pleaded Hero John as he lay on the floor. "Have
+mercy, oh Splendor! He is but an ignorant wanderer from the Ice
+World."
+
+It appeared that the young Hero was something of a favorite, for the
+masterful, thunder-browed Emperor checked himself and, still
+glowering, settled back on the diamond throne.
+
+"Ye have my permission to enter and approach."
+
+Whereupon, Hero Giles arose and, with many black looks at his guest,
+strode forward to briefly explain his presence.
+
+Nelson felt Altorius' blazing blue eyes search his face.
+
+"Then he whom the dog-born Jereboam captured was thy friend?"
+
+"Yes," replied Nelson with dignity, "my best friend. Alden and I have
+traveled and wandered all over the world together."
+
+"Over the world? The Ice World?" Altorius seemed interested, for he
+leaned forward, muscle corded arms very brown against the frosty
+brilliance of the stones studding his throne. He flipped back a
+scarlet cloak and bent a searching look on the straight, unafraid
+figure below.
+
+Impatient to reach a decision, Nelson forebore to amplify the
+Emperor's assumption that the outside world was all ice and snow.
+
+"Yes," he said, "from the land of America. I've spoken with Hero
+Giles, Your Majesty's Captain-General."
+
+"So, then, no doubt, he has told you of the law of our country?"
+Altorius' white teeth shown again in the depths of his short, curling
+beard.
+
+"Perhaps." Nelson was vague, wishing no further amplification.
+
+"The law of Atlans," pronounced the Emperor with a frown, "states that
+a stranger must prove his worth to the State, else he must be put to
+death. Thank thou thy gods that thou hast not fallen into the hands of
+the Lost Tribes, for assuredly thou would perish miserably, as must
+thy comrade."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What is the law of Jarmuth?" inquired Nelson, his mind furiously at
+work.
+
+"Their law states that the stranger within their gates must perish on
+the altar of Beelzebub, Jarmuth's blood-hungry demon god." A momentary
+expression of sadness crept into the Emperor's blue eyes and he beat a
+square, powerful hand on the arm of his throne. "Aye, blood-hungry!
+Lack-a-day! But yesterday, six of our fairest maidens crossed the
+boiling river, never to return."
+
+Nelson was about to speak when from outside came the blast of a
+trumpet. The assembled Atlanteans started, paused, and remained
+silent, listening intently.
+
+Hero Giles looked up, a light kindling in his deep-set eyes. "Yon was
+an Israelite trumpet."
+
+As the words left his lips there came a hurried rapping at the portal,
+whereupon the guards sprang forward.
+
+"Bid them enter." Altorius seemed strangely tense and uneasy.
+
+Quietly the door rolled back as before, revealing an Atlantean whose
+eyes rolled with alarm. He hurried forward and flung himself on the
+floor at the Emperor's sandaled feet.
+
+"Harken, oh Serene Splendor! Waiting without is an embassy from his
+Majesty of Jarmuth. They bear words for thine Imperial Highness."
+
+"Now, by Saturn! Here's insolence--at an hour such as this!" With a
+furious swirl of his scarlet cloak Altorius leaped to his feet, hand
+on the ivory handle of his sword, which, to Nelson's amusement was not
+of bronze, but of good, blue-gray steel.
+
+"I'll bet it's old Sir Henry's original pet sticker," he thought.
+
+"Bring on these dogs of Israel," growled Altorius. "They shall die!"
+
+"Gently, gently, oh Splendor," murmured Hero John. "Our full force is
+not yet camped on the Plains of Poseidon."
+
+"Nay! Have the rogues flayed alive!" was the advice of the hot-headed
+elder brother. He, like the Emperor, was scowling and livid with fury.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Presently there appeared four men, stalwart warriors as totally
+different in aspect from the Atlanteans as humans might be. The two
+races were alike only in splendid physical proportions and human
+figures. They, the Jarmuthians, were black haired and dark skinned,
+whereas the Atlanteans, with the exception of Sir Henry's progeny,
+were red headed. Truculently the half naked ambassadors strode over
+the polished floor, which reflected their rude images. Their hairy
+chests, arms and legs afforded a sharp contrast to the neat Atlantean
+nobles, who drew back with expressions of disgust.
+
+"Good God!" gasped Nelson in lively surprise. "A bunch of the boys
+from Seventh Avenue!"
+
+It was true: each Jarmuthian clearly betrayed his Hebraic origin in
+huge, fleshy nose and pendulous lower lip, so characteristic of the
+Semitic race. They were fierce, shaggy fellows, naked from the waist
+up save for a kind of jointed body armor, reminiscent of a Roman
+legionnaire's. Their long abundant blue-black hair was either plaited
+or flowed uncut over splendidly muscled shoulders. Their beards on the
+other hand were short and frizzed into tight curls, in the Assyrian
+manner. On each man's head was set a highly polished, pointed casque
+of copper, surmounted in each instance by the six-pointed star of
+Solomon. Otherwise the brutal looking emissaries wore nothing but
+dirty, food-spotted kilts and rough hide sandals secured by thongs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With all the insolence and self assurance of conquerors in the
+presence of slaves the four jet-eyed ambassadors swaggered up to the
+diamond throne. Then the foremost briefly inclined his head towards
+Altorius in a grudging salute and began to speak in deep, resonant
+tones.
+
+From that point Nelson could understand nothing of the conversation as
+it was carried on in the guttural and unintelligible language of that
+lost realm, but, from time to time Hero John found opportunity to
+translate an occasional phrase.
+
+Darker and darker grew the brows of the gorgeously attired Emperor and
+his eagle-visaged Captain-General as they listened to the pompous
+oratory of the foremost Jarmuthian, and in dark fury more than one
+Atlantean noble half drew his sword when the speaker fell silent at
+last.
+
+"He said," the younger Atlantean whispered, "that Jereboam is no
+longer satisfied with six maidens. Beelzebub demands a further
+offering of six more damsels to be delivered before the third division
+of time on the morrow. By Saturn! The insolence of these besotted
+swine passes all tolerance!"
+
+From the Atlantean Emperor's outraged negative gestures, Nelson
+surmised that Altorius was making an emphatic refusal and even adding
+some vicious threat. The foremost Jarmuthian slapped huge dirty hands
+on armored hips and fell to laughing with an insolence that would have
+provoked a rabbit.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Forgetting dignity and self-control, Altorius, in a single tigerish
+leap sprang from his throne and knocked the mocker senseless with a
+powerful blow to the jaw. Then, spurning the fallen Jarmuthian with a
+sandaled foot, the Atlantean fixed blazing eyes upon the three other
+ambassadors who, nothing daunted, closed up, muttering savagely in
+their frizzed black beards, while their hands sought the spot where
+swords would normally have hung.
+
+"Nice right to the jaw," commented Nelson with a grin. "He's still
+English enough to use his fists." He turned to Hero John, who stood
+with an expression of horror on his comely features. "What caused the
+row?"
+
+"Verily, our plight is grave indeed. That braggart dog threatened to
+march on Heliopolis in the first division of morning, and,"--Hero
+John's lips compressed into a hopeless, taut expression--"our
+reinforcing phalanxes can never arrive in time to defend Cierum at
+that hour. Should the defense fail, as it must--since they outnumber
+us three to one for the nonce--it would cost us many thousands of men
+to stay the blood-hungry hordes of Jereboam once freed on the great
+plain."
+
+Like a star shell bursting on a cloudy night came the inception of an
+idea.
+
+"Here," cried Nelson, "I've an idea! Maybe I can fix a stall until the
+rest of your boys do a General Phil Sheridan and get here."
+
+Hero John's blue eyes widened uncomprehendingly. "What?" he demanded.
+"What dost thou propose?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nelson's hand crept to his head, for the unaccustomed weight and heat
+of the helmet made it itch. "You say these bright boys from over the
+border want to chow six more girls? Am I right?"
+
+"Yea, oh Friend Nelson, they demand the victims to-morrow morn, else
+they advance."
+
+"All right." Nelson was thinking fast now, a dreadful vision of
+Richard Alden stretched for sacrifice on the brass altar of Beelzebub
+ever floating before his aching eyes. "Tell those Semites that they
+can have those six girls _if_ they can take them away from me."
+
+A puzzled frown creased the younger Hero's brow and he tugged
+thoughtfully at his scant yellow beard. "Prithee pardon me, but I do
+not comprehend."
+
+"All right, get this now! Tell the Jarmuthians that they can send six
+of their biggest and best scrappers, one for each girl. If they can
+take any one of those girls away from me, they take them all--taking
+me as well--and we'll all get the works in Jezreel together. But, on
+the other hand, if I kill their six champions, then Alden is returned
+unharmed, the six girls come home and the six other girls come back
+too--and there'll be no more hostages. I don't think they'll agree to
+or even consider surrendering Your Princess, Altara. I'm sorry I can't
+accomplish that, too. But if I can stop this annual tribute, it won't
+be so bad, will it?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rounder and rounder grew the Atlantean's eyes, and he gaped like a
+school boy in a side show.
+
+"What sayest thou? Thou alone to overcome six of their best warriors?
+Nay, but this is folly! Moonshine! What knowest thou of their
+weapons?"
+
+"Nothing," admitted Nelson, "but I do know Brother Winchester here."
+He patted the smooth stock. "He's mighty persuasive, properly
+handled."
+
+"But they are armored! They have the fungus bombs, the light retortii
+and the javelin!"
+
+"Righto!" agreed Nelson a trifle carelessly, "but you don't know what
+this old boy can do when he's put to it. Well?"
+
+"By Saturn!" An uncertain ring crept into the Atlantean Prince's
+voice. "A moment, while I address His Splendor."
+
+"I'm a fool, a damn fool!" thought Nelson. "Still, it's Alden's only
+chance--unless the Jarmuthians've got some trick I'm not on to, I
+ought to stand a fighting chance." Meanwhile Emperor and
+Captain-General drew to one side, listening to Hero John's impassioned
+oratory. That the idea met with disapproval, Nelson quietly recognized
+from the incredulous, even contemptuous, glances Altorius shot at him.
+Leaving the four sneering Jarmuthians under guard of the nobles, the
+Emperor came striding impatiently over the inlaid floor.
+
+"What madness is this?" he demanded harshly. "Dost thou realize what
+would hang upon thy skill? If thou shouldst fail, our annual hostage
+for the divine Altara would be twelve instead of six of our maidens.
+Further, the dog-conceived Jereboam would wax unbearably overweening
+and insolent. Nay, there is too much at hazard! Though outnumbered we
+will give battle in the morning."
+
+"Yes?" demanded Nelson, in turn impatient. "A fine chance you'd stand!
+Why, less than half of your army is here at Cerium and Hero John tells
+me that the enemy have massed their entire forces on the salient of
+Poseidon. Isn't that so?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Altorius' handsome brow darkened. "Aye," he admitted, "but our
+reinforcing corps will come up before the third hour of the third
+division."
+
+Here Hero Giles broke in and, speaking with the quick, impassioned
+tones of one whose reactions are violent, pled for confidence in the
+American. "Nay, fair cousin," he replied, casting a sidewise look at
+the Jarmuthians standing in muttered colloquy with their leader, who
+had now gotten to his feet and was angrily dabbing the blood from his
+chin with the hem of his yellow kiltlike garment. "I saw with mine own
+eyes what miracles Friend Nelson doth perform with his curious
+noise-making retortii. If Jereboam falls upon us ere our regiments are
+marshaled, then, verily, are we doomed. We have no choice but to play
+for time. Harken to the counsel of Hero John! Methinks this stranger
+from the Ice World is no braggart. He will fight well. If he loses he
+dies horribly--that he knows. The thought will strengthen his arms,
+and if he wins--!"
+
+Then broke in Nelson firmly. "If I win I must have the word of Your
+Majesty that Alden and I are to be afforded all help and free passage
+to that place where your soldiers captured my friend. It that
+understood?"
+
+Altorius' blue eyes shifted and there was a slight hesitation in his
+manner. Then, coming to a decision, he whirled and extended his hand.
+
+"Good, 'tis agreed," he said. "On my head be it. Have patience while
+Hero Giles confers with these outlandish dogs."
+
+It was with intense interest that the anxious aviator watched the
+ensuing conference. He could see the four Jarmuthians listening, dark
+eyes restlessly flitting back and forth, and their mouths twisted into
+contemptuous half snarls. Then, as Nelson's offer was made clear, a
+look of cunning seemed to creep into the eyes of the leader. He asked
+for clarification of several points, then, being informed of the
+details, his thick lips parted in an evil, crafty grin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Taken aback at the suspiciously ready acquiescence of the enemy, Hero
+Giles turned about. "They agree," he translated, "that, should Friend
+Nelson win, they will return to their own land, they will forfeit the
+annual tribute forever and return the other stranger unharmed. They
+speak fair, but I fear--" He bit his lips in perplexity. "These dogs,
+who talk with the forked tongues of serpents, plan some snare, some
+cunning trickery."
+
+"Repeat the terms." Altorius seemed gripped with apprehension too.
+"Let all be clearly understood: at the third division of morning will
+the wanderer fight six warriors. No more and no less."
+
+This was agreed and reaffirmed. Then, with an insolent, triumphant
+laugh, the Jarmuthian delegation whirled about and stalked from the
+room, their dark greaved legs flashing in military unison over the
+polished floor.
+
+"'Tis done," quoth Hero Giles gloomily. "The encounter will take place
+on the plain of Gilboa at the third hour of the third division. And
+may Saturn help us if thy might fails. Friend Nelson! For then surely
+will the hordes of Jarmuth despoil us and there will come a desolation
+and a darkness upon the Empire of Atlans."
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+It seemed incredibly soon that Victor Nelson found himself striding
+out from the serrated ranks of the Atlantean army which, drawn up in a
+rough diamond formation, looked discouragingly small in comparison to
+that vast sea of helmets twinkling ominously across the plain of
+Poseidon amid a haze of bright yellow dust which climbed lazily into
+the breathless heavens. The Jarmuthian army, numbering perhaps sixty
+or seventy thousand effective troops, lay encamped in a great salient
+formed by a convolution of the Apidanus and formed the only Jarmuthian
+tract of the great valley lying south of the boiling river.
+
+Like low-lying snow drifts, the sheen of the enemy tents struck
+Nelson's eye as he strode over the bright green turf to battle for
+Richard Alden's life.
+
+"There was something back of those nasty grins of the ambassadors," he
+reflected. "I wonder what deviltry they're cooking up?"
+
+He glanced at a stalwart Atlantean herald who, nervous in the extreme,
+clutched his brazen, dolphin-shaped horn and followed in the
+American's wake together with a sad little company. Weeping, moaning
+and dressed in plain black robes marched six really lovely girls--they
+who would perish on Beelzebub's altar if Nelson failed. Bitter were
+the looks of the guards as they secured the hands of the victims and
+many the hopeful look cast at the impassive American when they turned
+back, leaving the helpless girls to their fate.
+
+The ground where the one-sided duel was to take place was marked off
+by means of little yellow flags on a level plain perhaps a quarter of
+a mile long and wide. Arriving on the nearest border Nelson briefly
+motioned the herald to halt.
+
+"Might as well start shooting at the best range possible, and beat
+their steam throwers," he decided. "Wish to the devil I'd a few more
+cartridges. Only thirteen shots between me and Beelzeebub's altar in
+Jezreel, so I'd better not miss. All right, son, toot your horn."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+With his thumb be gestured the command, whereupon the Atlantean nodded
+eagerly and, filling his chest, set horn to lips to blow a long,
+strident note that rang harshly, boldly out over the great plain.
+
+While the note of the challenge rang out, Nelson's eyes turned back to
+regard the Atlantean array and detected, far in the rear, a huge
+pillar of dust which must mark the progress of the Atlantean
+reinforcements. Would they arrive at Cierum in time? Then his eyes
+sought that spot where Altorius and his staff sat anxiously on their
+podokos, watching intently the impending struggle. Very clearly the
+flash of their armor came to him.
+
+"I guess, like the girls back there, they're kind of nervous and
+jumpy," thought Nelson. "Well, I don't blame them. I've had quieter
+moments myself."
+
+Having blown three blasts, the Atlantean herald saluted; then, with
+disconcerting haste, made his way back to the ranks of his fellows
+some two hundred yards away.
+
+From the Jarmuthian army came an answering blast. Nelson cast a last
+look on the Atlantean army, breathlessly awaiting the impending duel.
+There was the allosauri corps on the far left; he could see the
+chimeric monsters' long, repulsive necks writhing endlessly back and
+forth through the air as they squealed and tugged strongly at their
+restraining chains. On the right were stationed perhaps ten thousand
+podokesons, their slender, yellow-shafted lances swaying like a
+sapling forest in the distance. In the center were eleven thousand
+protection infantry, green-crested and armed with compact tanks of
+blue-maxima vapor, fungus bombs and swords. Behind them, and
+corresponding to heavy infantry, were ranged some twenty thousand
+blue-plumed hoplites, eagerly fingering the brazen hoses of their
+death dealing portable retortii.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nelson had no time to further study the array, for he whirled about as
+from the Atlantean army arose a deep, horrified shout. He stood
+paralyzed, his jaw slack. For there, waddling slowly forward, came the
+most fantastic huge creature imaginable. Unspeakably repellent and
+horrible, it stood on short legs thick as mature trees, to tower at
+least thirty-five feet above the ground at the fore-shoulders! An
+immense reptilian neck some twenty-five feet long weaved continuously
+back and forth, while a surprisingly small, bullet-shaped head emitted
+rumbling grunts.
+
+"Great God!" gasped the horrified aviator, and felt the ground sway
+under him. "It must be ninety feet long!"
+
+Paralyzed by a dreadful fascination he watched the ungainly, hill-like
+reptile shuffle ponderously forward and realized that, high on its
+back, was fixed a small fort, rather like those howdahs or boxes which
+are fastened to the backs of elephants. Chilled with the nearness of
+death, Nelson counted six mail-clad warriors in the howdah. Then the
+true import of the Jarmuthians evil jest struck him with full force.
+
+"Six men, they said. And six men there are--but the treacherous devils
+mounted them on that walking hill-side! Guess Altorius can kiss his
+six girls good-by right now. Poor Alden! Well, I did my best--a rotten
+trick."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At that moment he felt as an ant must feel on beholding the approach
+of a human. It was terrifying, the inexorable advance of that
+colossal, fantastic monster. From behind he could hear the infuriated
+shouts of the Atlantean army. They knew even he could not hope to
+withstand the murderous onslaught of the beast now entering the
+duelling space.
+
+On came the diplodocus, its vast warty tail trailing over the ground
+and raising a heavy column of dust, while its mud smeared sides bore
+out Hero Giles' statement that here was one of those semi-aquatic
+titans from the steaming swamps of Jarmuth.
+
+"Hell! Poor Alden's as good as finished now! What a fool I was to
+think I could save him!"
+
+Obedient to an overwhelming fear, Nelson whirled to flee, then
+stopped, as, from the depths of his being, a stronger power forbade
+him to desert his friend to certain death.
+
+"Range two hundred and fifty yards," he estimated, and, whipping up
+the Winchester, sighted full at the ponderous creature's slimy
+snakelike head. When the recoil jarred his shoulder, Nelson dropped
+the barrel an inch or so to watch. Nothing happened. The great beast
+was advancing as before, its incredibly long neck weaving steadily
+back and forth as though to sniff the air.
+
+"Hell!"
+
+Struck by a sudden thought, he snatched a cartridge from his pocket
+and, with that strength which comes to men in their hour of mortal
+peril, wrenched out the metal-jacketed bullet, to reinsert it
+backwards into the brass cartridge case.
+
+Meanwhile the vast brute had drawn nearer, crushing flat a young oak
+in its path as easily as though it had been a wheat stalk.
+
+"Maybe this dum-dum will do some good," panted Nelson. "If it doesn't,
+nothing will stop it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Again he sighted until, finding those small, orange red eyes in line
+with his sight, he fired. This time the gray-brown monster uttered a
+titantic bellow of rage, halted, and began shaking its clumsy blunt
+head.
+
+"Hit it, by God!" exulted Nelson, and seized the momentary respite to
+slip two fresh cartridges into the Winchester's magazine.
+
+But, to his inexpressible dismay, the monster presently resumed its
+ponderous progress while the Jarmuthians in the howdah uttered
+taunting yells that reached him faintly, while the sun flares glinted
+on their brandished swords and lances. One of them plucked a fungus
+grenade from his belt and flung it with all his might in Nelson's
+direction. The missile fell to the earth far short of its destination
+and seemed to break rather than explode, at the same time expelling
+that deadly, greenish-yellow vapor which, blown away by a strong wind,
+fortunately came nowhere near the doomed aviator.
+
+"Oh! You will?"
+
+Nelson sighted swiftly at the grenade-thrower and fired, whereupon the
+Jarmuthian, some hundred and fifty yards distant, spun crazily about,
+flung both arms towards the amber-yellow sky and toppled from the
+howdah, for all the world like a diver in quest of pearls.
+
+From both breathless armies rose a terrific shout. Accustomed as they
+were to the visible destruction of the retortii, this noisy yet
+invisible death was appalling.
+
+But Nelson's agonized attention was not on the assembled armies, for
+nearer came the mountainous diplodocus, its lumbering strides making
+the howdah sway like a ship in a gale and preventing use of the
+portable retortii.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nelson planted both feet, took fresh grip on his waning courage and
+shot again, this time aiming at a gigantic, black bearded warrior who
+seemed to be training one of those portable retortii upon him.
+
+Again the Winchester cracked and this time the black bearded man sank
+from sight back into the howdah, while his companions, uttering
+vengeful shouts, tossed more fungus bombs at the lone heroic figure
+barring their progress towards the six bound and shrieking maidens.
+
+Towering thrice as high as the largest African elephant, the
+diplodocus was now but seventy-five yards away. He had hit it, that
+Nelson could tell, for a large shower of blood sprayed from the
+monster's neck. Then, uttering a despairing curse, he sent a shot
+smacking squarely into the left shoulder, at the base of that mastlike
+neck with fervent hope of finding the heart. But the heavy bullet
+bothered the cyclopean reptile no more than a sting of a mosquito.
+
+On, on it came. In another minute it must stamp out Victor Nelson's
+life beneath feet as large as hogsheads.
+
+"Damn!"
+
+Nelson snapped the ejector lever, throwing out the spent cartridge.
+
+"No use," he whispered, "can't faze that hill of meat! But I might as
+well kill all of those bloody cannibals I can."
+
+With amazing speed and accuracy he picked off two of the remaining
+Jarmuthians, whose shining, bronze armor could nowise withstand the
+wicked impact of modern nickel-jacketed bullets. One of the stricken
+men for a moment dangled with the last of his strength from one of the
+chains securing the howdah to the enormous creature's back, then
+tumbled heavily some forty feet to the earth.
+
+Only two shots more in the magazine--! Nelson suddenly found himself
+very cool. "Two shots and then--"
+
+He was conscious of that great, snakelike head darting viciously in
+his direction. A huge, slobbering mouth, studded with teeth a foot
+long, yawned redly before him like a nightmare incarnate, blotting out
+consciousness of all else. Then Victor Nelson, fighting to control his
+strumming nerves, deliberately sighted into a great, orange colored
+eye, saw the narrow black iris over the Winchester's front sight and
+knew the huge warty head was not ten feet away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He pressed the trigger and never heard the report, but felt the blast
+of a furnace-hot breath in his face--a breath that stank like the foul
+reek of burning rubber.
+
+With a detached sense of surprise he saw the eye miraculously and
+dreadfully disintegrate; then, as the bitter smell of burned cordite
+stung his nostrils, he sprang violently sidewise to find himself
+staring up at the howdah, now towering at least forty feet above.
+
+The next few moments were indescribable. Horrible roars and bellows,
+loud as those of a thousand angered bulls, shattered the air. The
+diplodocus halted, stunned by pain and the partial loss of eyesight;
+then, its infinitesimal brain becoming gripped with fear, it plunged
+and lumbered sidewise, nearly shaking the warriors from the howdah,
+where they clung for dear life. Nelson was barely able to avoid the
+sweep of the powerful tail as the diplodocus wheeled about on hind
+legs, reeled and started blindly back towards the Jarmuthian ranks.
+Suddenly it stood stock still, shaking with super-elephantine motions.
+Then, for all the world like a balky mule, it sank to the earth and
+cowered there, despite the frantic efforts of the surviving
+Jarmuthians to stir it to obedience.
+
+By the strong amber light of the sun flare Nelson had a vision of the
+last two warriors swinging in apelike agility to the ground. They were
+giants, those two men of Jarmuth, and their conical helmets added
+additional stature. One of them, shouting an unintelligible taunt,
+reached for his belt to snatch out a fungus bomb, but Nelson, dropping
+on one knee, sent a bullet crashing between the Jarmuthian's scowling
+eyes. Even as he fell, the last of the six champions unwisely ignored
+his retortii and frantically sprang forward, razor-edged sword
+upraised.
+
+Nelson frantically worked the ejector lever but only an empty click
+resulted! His heart sank. "Hell! the magazine's empty!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He had just time to swing the Winchester about and grasp its barrel as
+the Jarmuthian, with a loud shout, sprang in, slashing viciously at
+Nelson's unprotected neck. Using the clubbed rifle like a baseball
+bat, the American struck out with the strength of despair. There came
+a resonant clang as blade and barrel encountered each other. Steel is
+ever stronger than bronze, so Nelson had the satisfaction of seeing
+the Jarmuthian's sword blade break squarely in two near the hilt.
+
+Horrified, the black bearded warrior glanced at the empty hilt in his
+hand but, courageous to the end, sprang in like a tiger to grapple
+with that small, agile man in khaki and serge.
+
+"You would--eh?" gasped Nelson.
+
+Putting all his strength behind a blow he whirled up the heavy
+Winchester, struck out and felt the solid walnut stock smash fair and
+square on the conical helmet. Like an eggshell the bronze helm broke
+and the six-pointed star above went spinning off into the dust. As a
+tree sways before it falls beneath a forester's ax, so the dark
+Jarmuthian giant tottered, while the wide dusty plain of Poseidon
+echoed with a rumbling, incredulous shout.
+
+"There," choked Nelson, incredulous to be still alive, "I guess
+that'll be about all for to-day."
+
+But he was wrong. From the ranks of Jarmuth rose a terrible, ominous
+cry and at the same time there broke out the sibilant hiss of a
+thousand retortii. From the Atlantean army came an answering yell and
+Nelson turned to race back to the shelter of Altorius' body-guard,
+pausing but to arouse the terrified hostages. Swiftly he cast loose
+their bonds and pointed to the nearest detachment of Atlanteans.
+Sobbing with joy the six girls fled for dear life just as the first of
+the allosauri went racing over the plains. Screaming, all-powerful and
+uncanny war dogs, they bounded grotesquely high in the air, plunging
+straight towards the Jarmuthian ranks which greeted them with a
+searing, billowing blast of their retortii. Though dozens of the
+terrible creatures fell kicking and writhing beneath the scalding
+discharge of the retortii, the main body, perhaps forty or fifty in
+number, sprang like rending fiends into the dense packed masses of
+Jarmuthian infantry.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of the ensuing battle, Nelson had but the most confused recollections.
+The dominating impression was that the fray was awesome, horrible
+beyond power of description. He recalled feeding the five remaining
+cartridges into the magazine, then clapping on an Atlantean noble's
+helmet. With Hero John at his side he joined in an furious headlong
+charge of the podoko corps.
+
+Like a vast glittering wedge the gallant Atlantean lancers advanced
+under shelter of the blue maxima vapor which, discharged by the
+protectons or light infantry, dispelled the scalding steam clouds
+launched from the Jarmuthian portable retortii.
+
+"Halor van!" Hero John shouted the Atlantean war cry. "Halor van!
+Come Friend Nelson, this day shall the treacherous swine of Jarmuth
+drown in their own blood! Halor van!"
+
+Nelson replied nothing. He was too busy drawing a bead on a gorgeously
+arrayed enemy officer who appeared to be directing the defence.
+
+Faster and faster rushed the podokos, forty, fifty miles an hour, a
+carnate thunderbolt hurled straight at the enemy center. Under a hot
+fire of grenades dozens of the lancers fell and once, when a fungus
+bomb broke near by, Nelson saw half a dozen Atlanteans tumble from
+their saddles, the hideous yellow growths already sprouting from
+nostrils, mouth and ears. The turmoil became deafening,
+indescribable--like the roar of a crowded subway.
+
+The American had a brief glimpse of a mountainous diplodocus assailed
+by half a dozen hissing, shrieking allosauri who, employing jaws and
+claws, ripped great, shuddering chucks of flesh from the agonized and
+unwieldy monster on whose back the frantic Jarmuthians fought with
+terrible ferocity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped and worried
+their prey. One of them clung like a bulldog to the doomed diplodocus'
+head, though the twenty-foot neck writhed and whirled frantically in
+effort to shake it loose. Another allosaurus, whining with eagerness,
+actually clambered up the back of an assailed giant only to fall back
+under the blast of a retortii mounted in the howdah. Bathed in live
+steam, with bones showing through its melting, quivering flesh, the
+allosaurus collapsed backwards, but another instantly took its place
+and, gaining its goal with a terrific leap, made a shambles of the
+howdah, tearing the men in it apart as a lion does an antelope.
+
+Nelson found himself very busy. The charging podokesos were now in the
+midst of the Jarmuthian heavy infantry, slashing down at a maze of
+yelling, black-bearded, Semitic faces. Once Nelson was nearly
+speared, shooting his assailant just as the lance glimmered over his
+heart. Again he saw the Atlantean hoplites beaten back amid a
+pestilential fog of fungus gas which stretched them in kicking,
+loathsome heaps on the dusty plain. The uproar became terrific,
+indescribable, as the whistling screams of the allosauri and the
+saurean bellows of the diplodoci rose above the shouts of the soldiery
+to fill the dust-laden air with a dreadful clamor. The battle now
+swayed critically; a feather's weight on either side and one army
+would roll back in red, irretrievable ruin. It was the psychological
+instant. Nelson sensed it unerringly.
+
+"Look!" shouted Hero John, dashing a rivulet of blood from his eyes,
+"there fights the dog-begotten Jereboam himself! Halor van! Smite, ye
+soldiers of Atlans! Smite!"
+
+Following the line of the outstretched hand. Nelson caught a glimpse
+of an enormous, eagle nosed warrior who, clad in gleaming, diamond
+studded harness, fought like a paladin of old. Powerful as a dark Ares
+the sable browed Jereboam raged among the dismayed Atlantean hoplites,
+beating them to earth with terrible ferocity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a long shot, one he might readily have been forgiven in missing
+but with the speed of thought Victor Nelson sprang from his podoko,
+dropped on one knee behind a pile of corpses and, uttering a fervent
+prayer, fired full at Jereboam's black head.
+
+The nearest combatants drew back momentarily at the unfamiliar thunder
+of the report and fell silent while the groans and shrieks of the
+wounded rose loud. As a man looking through many thickness of glass,
+so Nelson saw Jereboam reel on his splendidly caparisoned podoko,
+clasp both hands to his forehead and sink to earth.
+
+Hero Giles, somewhere far in the Atlantean van, saw what transpired
+and capitalized it with the inspiration of a genius.
+
+"Jereboam is dead!" he shouted in ringing tones, and flashed his red
+stained sword. "Woe to Jarmuth this day! Smite, ye sons of Atlans. Woe
+to Jarmuth--Jereboam is fallen!"
+
+And smite hard the reinforced Atlanteans did. Filled with a new
+courage they advanced so determinedly that the disconcerted and
+dismayed Jarmuthians broke and fled in a disastrous, panic-stricken
+rout back over the plain of Poseidon towards the boiling river.
+
+The ground was already carpeted with dead and with abandoned
+equipment, when fresh packs of allosauri were loosed on the fleeing
+Jarmuthians to wreak havoc indescribable and, ere long, only the
+triumphant, panting Atlanteans remained on the field.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+There was music and high revelry in the fortress of Cierum that night,
+and Victor Nelson, embarrassed and flushed with the extravagant
+adoration of all Atlans, sat by the Emperor Altorius' side waiting,
+watching for the appearance of a humbled Jarmuthian delegation.
+
+"Never since the world began has there been such a hero in Atlans!"
+cried Altorius, his face more Roman than ever. "Prithee tarry amongst
+us, Hero Nelson. Thou shalt be as my brother. A marble palace shalt
+thou have and twenty wives, each fair as those damsels which thou
+hast, by thy might, rescued from the profane altar of the fiend,
+Beelzebub!"
+
+"Thanks," laughed Nelson, and drained a goblet of tawny wine. "I'd be
+delighted to stay, but the point is--He broke off short, for there
+came a sudden tramp of feet at the door of the great hall and there,
+just visible above the green crests of the royal guards, he recognized
+that pale, drawn face which had haunted him ever since he had returned
+to find the abandoned aeroplane.
+
+"Dick!" he shouted. "Dick Alden!"
+
+"Nelson!"
+
+With that same irresistible form which had won a certain November
+classic for Harvard, Richard Alden bucked and plunged through a double
+rank of startled guards and came running across the marble floor, his
+eyes lit with an unspeakable gladness.
+
+"Nelson! Nelson!" he panted. "What in hell are you doing up there?"
+
+"Oh!" replied the aviator with a joyous grin, "just visiting with my
+friend, the Emperor."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Alden halted, on his handsome features a curious mixture of surprise
+and delight. "The Emperor?" he stammered. "You sitting beside an
+Emperor?"
+
+"Would it not seem so?" inquired Altorius with a low laugh.
+
+"It would," chuckled Alden. "Victor Nelson, as I remember, always was
+a good politician."
+
+"And," thought Nelson, "I'll have to be a damn sight better one to get
+us out of Atlans without injuring Altorius' feelings. I don't suppose
+he'll ever be able to realize that all the desirable things in the
+world don't lie in this valley."
+
+Throngs of brilliantly armored and plumed officers and courtiers, some
+of them nursing wounds and bandaged heads, came up to hail the mighty
+wanderer who had subdued the might of Jarmuth.
+
+Flushed and pleased, as is any normal man under well-earned praise,
+Nelson shook one wiry fist after another, while Alden chatted with the
+Emperor. Nobles, officers and courtiers all pressed close to fawn upon
+the new hero--but, far back in the council chamber, a group of dark
+robed priests were crowded together. Haranguing the priests was a
+fierce, white bearded old man who seemed to be arguing violently.
+
+"Hum!" thought the American. "That's at least one outfit that doesn't
+like the way I part my hair. Wonder what devilment the priests are
+cooking up?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He was not long in finding out, for the black robed arch-priest
+suddenly left his group of underlings to boldly make his way forward,
+while princes, courtiers and warriors drew respectfully aside and bent
+their heads.
+
+"Hail! All conquering Emperor!" The stern old man halted squarely
+before Altorius' gem encrusted throne, while Alden checked some remark
+to look curiously down upon the hawk-featured arch-priest.
+
+Altorius flushed and the lines about his mouth tightened, from which
+Nelson guessed that there was more than a little bad blood between the
+spiritual and temporal heads of the empire.
+
+"What wouldst thou, oh Heracles?"
+
+"I would know why the all powerful Wanderer, of whom thou makest so
+much, did not rescue Princess Altara?"
+
+The Emperor stiffened. "Her rescue, being impossible of
+accomplishment, was not nominated in the agreement," he said coldly.
+"The Wanderer has in full carried out his share--and so shall we.
+Honored and beloved of Atlans, these great warriors shall abide among
+us in peace."
+
+Here Nelson thought it wise to dispel any illusions Altorius might
+entertain about their staying in Atlans. "No, oh Splendor: remember,
+our agreement was that, should I conquer the Jarmuthian champions,
+Alden and I were to be allowed to go free."
+
+"Nay, oh Splendor," fiercely broke in the arch-priest, "permit them
+not to go. I tell thee the Princess Altara _must_ be restored to
+Atlans! Else,"--a distinct note of threat crept into the old man's
+voice--"--else evil days shall fall upon this empire, and the line of
+Hudson will wither and fade."
+
+Up sprang Altorius in a towering rage. "Sirrah! Dost dare make threats
+to thy liege lord?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fire flashed from the young Emperor's bright blue eyes, and under
+their fierce glare the old man quailed and stepped back with eyes
+lowered.
+
+"Altorius keeps his word," the Emperor thundered. "The strangers shall
+go, though all the black-robed kites in the realm say me nay. The word
+of a Hudsonian prince is as sure as the fire of Pelion. Get thee gone,
+rash priest!"
+
+A long moment, the two strangely contrasting figures glared at each
+other, the young, splendid Emperor and the malevolent, withered old
+man.
+
+"The Gods demand their daughter," cried Heracles in parting, "and woe
+to him who says them nay!"
+
+With this parting shot, the arch-priest turned and, scarlet faced,
+stalked from the council room, while Altorius threw back his head and
+roared with laughter.
+
+"Come, oh ye Heroes, ye princes and captains! Come, let us make
+festival before these mighty wanderers go their way!"
+
+Roar upon roar of enthusiasm echoed through the marble throne room,
+and Nelson would have felt wholly at ease had not that little knot of
+priests remained gathered like ill-omened carrion crows about the
+door. Muttering among themselves, they were watching him with a
+curious intentness that aroused deep misgivings in the American's
+mind, and it was with something like a sigh that he joined the
+procession forming to proceed to the triumphal feast on which the
+wealth and luxury of the whole empire of Atlans had been lavished.
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+[Illustration: Advertisement.]
+
+
+
+
+The Pirate Planet
+
+_By Charles W. Diffin_
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+[Illustration: _He shot feet first into the waiting heads._]
+
+[Sidenote: From Earth and sub-Venus converge a titanic offensive of
+justice on the unspeakable man-things of Torg.]
+
+
+The little ship that Captain Blake had thrown with reckless speed
+through the skies over Washington, D. C., made history that day in the
+records of the earth. None, now, could doubt that here, at last, was
+the answer that the world had hoped for until hope had died.
+Unbelievable in its field of action, incredible in its wild speed, but
+real, nevertheless!--the countries of the earth were frantic in their
+acclaim. Only the men who formed the International Board of Defense
+failed to join in the enthusiasm. They sat by day and night in earnest
+conference on ways and means.
+
+This little ship--so wonderful, and so inadequate! It was only a
+promise of what might come. There must be new designs made; men must
+learn to dream in new terms and set down their dreams in cold lines
+and figures on drafting boards. A cruiser of space must be designed,
+to mount heavy guns, carry great loads, absorb the stresses that must
+come to such a structure in flight and in battle. And above all, it
+must take the thrust of this driving force--new and tremendous--of
+which men knew so little as yet. And then many like it must be built.
+
+The fuel must be prepared, and this, alone, meant new and different
+machinery, which itself must be designed before the manufacturing
+process could begin.
+
+There was work to be done--a world of work!--and so few months in
+which to do it. The attack from the distant gun had long since ceased
+and the instruments of the astronomers showed the enemy planet
+shrinking far off in space. But it would return; there was only a year
+for preparation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Blake was assigned to the direction of design. An entire
+office building in Washington was vacated for his use, and in a few
+hours he rallied a staff of assistants who demanded the entire use of
+a telephone system that spread countrywide. And the call went out that
+would bring the best brains of the land to the task before them.
+
+The windows of the building shone brightly throughout the nights when
+the call was answered, and engineers and draftsmen worked at fever
+heat on thrusts and stresses and involved mathematical calculations.
+And, while owners of great manufacturing plants waited with
+unaccustomed patience for a moment's talk with Blake, the white sheets
+on the drafting boards showed growing pictures of braces and struts
+and curved plates, of castings for gun mounts, and ammunition hoists.
+And the manufacturers were told in no uncertain terms exactly what
+part of this experimental ship they would produce, and when it must be
+delivered.
+
+"If only we dared go into production," said Blake; "but it is out of
+the question. This first ship must demonstrate its efficiency; we must
+get the 'bugs' out of our design; correct our errors and be ready with
+a production schedule that will work with precision."
+
+Only one phase of this proposed production troubled him; the
+manufacture must be handled all over the world. He talked with men
+from England and France, from Germany and Italy and a host of other
+lands, and he raged inwardly while he tried to drive home to them the
+necessity for handling the work in just one way--his way--if results
+were to be achieved.
+
+The men of business he could convince, but his chief disquiet came
+from those whose thoughts were of what they termed "statesmanship,"
+and who seemed more apprehensive of the power that this new weapon
+would give the United States of America than they were of the threat
+from distant worlds.
+
+From his friends in high quarters came hints of the same friction, but
+he knew that the one demand Winslow had laid down was being observed:
+the secret of the mysterious fuel would remain with us. Winslow had
+shown little confidence in the countries of the old world, and he had
+sworn Blake to an agreement that his strange liquids--that new form of
+matter and substance--should remain with this country.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And swiftly the paper ship grew. The parts were in manufacture, and
+arriving at the assembly plant in Ohio. Blake's time was spent there
+now, and he caught only snatches of sleep on a cot in his office,
+while he worked with the forces of men who succeeded each other to
+keep the assembly room going night and day.
+
+There was an enormous hangar that was designed for the assembling of a
+giant dirigible; it housed another ship now. Hardly a ship, yet it
+began to take form where great girders held the keel that was laid,
+and duralumin plates and strong castings were bolted home.
+
+A thousand new problems, and innumerable vexing errors--the "bugs"
+that inhere with a new, mechanical job--yet the day came when the ship
+was a thing of sleek beauty, and her thousand feet of length enclosed
+a maze of latticed struts where ammunition rooms and sleeping
+quarters, a chart room and control stations were cleverly interspaced.
+And above, where the great shape towered high in the big hangar, were
+the lean snouts of cannon, and recesses that held rapid-fire guns and
+whole batteries of machine guns for close range.
+
+Rows of great storage batteries were installed, to furnish the first
+current for the starting of the ship, till her dynamos that were
+driven by the exhaust blast itself could go into action and carry on.
+And then--
+
+An armored truck that ground slowly up under heavy guard to deliver
+two small flasks of liquid whose tremendous weight must be held in
+containers of thick steel, and be hoisted with cranes to their resting
+place within the ship. And Captain Blake, with his heart in his throat
+through fear of some failure, some slip in their plans--Captain Blake,
+of the gaunt, worn frame, and face haggard from sleepless
+nights--stood quietly at a control board while the great doors of the
+hangar swung open.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the closing of a switch the current from the batteries flowed
+through the two liquids, to go on in conductors of heavy copper to a
+generator that was heavy and squat and devoid of moving parts. Within
+it were electrodes that were castings of copper, and between them the
+miracle of regenerated matter was taking place.
+
+What came to them as energy from the cables was transformed to a
+tangible thing--a vast bulk of gas, of hydrogen and oxygen that had
+once been water, and the pressure of the gas made a roaring inferno of
+the exhausts. A spark plug ignited it, and the heat of combustion
+added pressure to pressure, while the quivering, invisible live steam
+poured forth to change to vaporous clouds that filled the hangar.
+
+The man at the control board stood trembling with knowledge of the
+power he had unleashed. He moved a lever to crack open a valve, and
+the clouds poured now from beneath the ship, that raised slowly and
+smoothly in the air. It hung quietly poised, while the hands that
+directed it sent a roaring blast from the great stern exhaust, and the
+creation of many minds became a thing of life that moved slowly,
+gliding out into the sunlight of the world.
+
+The cheers of crowding men, insane with hysterical emotion at sight of
+their work's fulfillment, were lost in the thunder of the ship. The
+blunt bow lifted where the sun made dazzling brilliance of her
+sweeping curves, and with a blast that thundered from her stern the
+first unit of the space forces of the Earth swept upward in an arc of
+speed that ended in invisibility. No enveloping air could hold her
+now; she was launched in the ocean of space that would be her home.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Blake, the following day, sat in Washington before a desk
+piled high with telegrams of congratulation. His tired face was
+smiling as he replaced a telephone receiver that had spoken words of
+confidence and commendation from the President of the United States.
+But he pushed the mass of yellow papers aside to resume his
+examination of a well-thumbed folder marked: "Production Schedule."
+The real work was yet to be done.
+
+It was only two short months later that he sat before the same desk,
+with a face that showed no mark of smiles in its haggard lines.
+
+His ship was a success, and was flying continuously, while men of the
+air service were trained in its manipulation and gunners received
+practice in three-dimensioned range finding and cruiser practice in
+the air. Above, in the airless space, they learned to operate the guns
+that were controlled from within the air-tight rooms. They were
+learning, and the ship performed the miracles that were now taken as
+matters of fact.
+
+But production!
+
+Captain Blake rose wearily to attend a conference at the War
+Department. He had asked that it be called, and the entire service was
+represented when he reached there. He went without preamble or
+explanation to the point.
+
+"Mr. Secretary," he said, and faced the Secretary of War, "I have to
+report, sir, that we have failed. It is utterly impossible, under
+present conditions, to produce a fleet of completed ships.
+
+"You know the reason; I have conferred with you often. It was a
+mistake to depend on foreign aid; they have failed us. I do not
+criticize them: their ways are their own, and their own problems loom
+large to them. The English production of parts has come through, or is
+proceeding satisfactorily, but the rest is in hopeless confusion. The
+Red menace from Russia is the prime reason, of course. With the Reds
+mobilizing their forces, we cannot blame her neighbors for preparing
+to defend themselves. But our program!--and the sure invasion that
+will come in six short months!--to be fighting among ourselves--it is
+damnable!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He paused to stare in wordless misery at the silent gathering before
+him. Then--
+
+"I have failed," he blurted out. "I have fallen down on the job. It
+was my responsibility to get the cooperation that insured success.
+Let me step aside. Is there anyone now who can take up the work and
+bring order and results from this chaos of futility?"
+
+He waited long for a reply. It was the Secretary of War who answered
+in a quiet voice.
+
+"We must not be too harsh," he said, "in our criticism of our foreign
+friends, but neither should we be unfair to Captain Blake. You do
+yourself an injustice; there is no one who could have done more than
+you. The reason is here." He struck at a paper that he held in his
+hand. "Europe is at war. Russia has struck without warning; her troops
+are moving and her air force is engaged this minute in an attack upon
+Paris. It is a traitor country at home that has defeated us in our war
+with another world."
+
+"I think," he added slowly, "there is nothing more that could have
+been done: you have made a brave effort. Let us thank you, Captain
+Blake, while we can. We will fight, when the time comes, as best we
+can; that goes without saying."
+
+A blue and gold figure arose slowly to speak a word for the navy. "It
+is evident by Captain Blake's own admission, that the proposed venture
+must fail. It has been evident to some of us from the start." It was a
+fighter of the old school who was speaking; his voice was that of one
+whose vision has dimmed, who sees but the dreams of impractical
+visionaries in the newer inventions, and whose reliance for safety is
+placed only in the weapons he knows.
+
+"The naval forces of the United States will be ready," he told them,
+"and I would ask you to remember that we can still place dependence
+upon the ships that float in the water, and the forces who have manned
+them since the history of this country began."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Blake had sprung to his feet. Again he addressed the Secretary
+for War.
+
+"Mr. Secretary," he said, and there was a fighting glint in his eyes,
+"I make no reply to this gentleman. His arm of the service will speak
+for itself as it has always done. But your own words have given me new
+hope and new energy. I ask you, Mr. Secretary, for another chance. The
+industrial forces of the United States are behind us to the last man
+and the last machine. I have talked with them. I know!
+
+"We have only six months left for a prodigious effort. Shall we make
+it? For the safety of our country and the whole world let us attempt
+the impossible: go ahead on our own; turn the energy and the mind of
+this whole country to the problem.
+
+"The great fleet of the world can never be. Shall we build and launch
+the Great Fleet of the United States, and take upon our own shoulders
+the burden and responsibility of defense?
+
+"It cannot be done by reasonable standards, but the time is past for
+reason. Possible or otherwise, we must do it. We will--if you will
+back me in the effort!"
+
+There was a rising discord of excited voices in the room. Men were
+leaping to their feet to shake vehement fists in the faces of those
+who wagged their heads in protest. The Secretary of War arose to still
+the storm. He turned to walk toward the waiting figure of Captain
+Blake.
+
+"You can't do it," he said, and gripped the Captain by the hand; "you
+can't do it--but you may. This country has seen others who have done
+the impossible when the impossible had to be done. It's your job; the
+President will confirm my orders. Go to it, Blake!"
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+The wires that bound the two men were removed, and McGuire and Sykes
+worked in agony to bring life back to the hands and feet that were
+swollen and blue. Then--red guards who forced them to stumble on their
+numbed legs, where darting pains made them set their lips tight--a
+car that went swiftly through the darkness of a tube to stop finally
+in another building--a room with metal walls, one window with a
+balcony beyond, high above the ground--a door that clanged behind
+them; and the two men, looking one at the other with dismayed and
+swollen eyes, knew in their hearts that here, beyond a doubt, was
+their last earthly habitation.
+
+They said nothing--there was nothing of hope or comfort to be
+said--and they dropped soddenly upon the hard floor, where finally the
+heavy breathing and nervous starts of Professor Sykes showed that to
+him at least had come the blessed oblivion of exhausted sleep. But
+there was no sleep for Lieutenant McGuire.
+
+There was a face that shone too clearly in the dark, and his thoughts
+revolved endlessly in words of reproach for his folly in allowing
+Althora's love to lead her to share his risk. From the night outside
+their window came a ceaseless clatter and hubbub, but to this he was
+oblivious.
+
+Only with the coming of morning's soft golden light did McGuire know
+the reason for the din and activity that echoed from outside--and the
+reason, too, for their being placed in this room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Their lives should end with the sailing of the fleet, and there,
+outside their window, were the ships themselves. Ships everywhere, as
+far as he could see across the broad level expanse, and an army of men
+who scurried like ants--red ones, who worked or directed the others,
+and countless blues and yellows who were loading the craft with
+enormous cargoes.
+
+"Squawk, damn you!" said Lieutenant McGuire to the distant shrieking
+throng; "and I hope they're ready for you when you reach the earth."
+But his savage voice carried no conviction. What was there that Earth
+could do to meet this overwhelming assault?
+
+"What is it?" asked Sykes. He roused from his sleep to work gingerly
+at his aching muscles, then came and stood beside McGuire.
+
+"They have put us here as a final taunt," McGuire told him. "There is
+the fleet that is going to make our world into a nice little hell, and
+Torg, the beast! has put us here to see it leave. Then we get ours,
+and they don't know that we know that."
+
+"Your first way was the best," the scientist observed; "we should have
+done it then. We still can."
+
+"What do you mean?" The flyer's voice was dull and lifeless.
+
+Sykes pointed to the little balcony and the hard pavement below.
+
+"Althora," he said, and McGuire winced at the name, "seemed to think
+that we were in for some exquisite torture. Here is the way out. It is
+a hundred-foot drop; they think we are safe; but they have been
+unintentionally kind."
+
+"Yes," his companion agreed, "they don't know that we know of the torture.
+We will wait ... and when I am sure that--Althora--is--gone ... when there
+is nothing I can do to help--"
+
+"Help?" queried the professor gently. "There is nothing now of help,
+nor anyone who can help us. We must face it, my boy; _c'est fini_. Our
+little journey is approaching its end."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was no reply, and McGuire stood throughout the day to stare with
+eyes of smouldering hatred where the scurrying swarms of living things
+made ready to invade and infest the earth.
+
+Food and water was pushed through the doorway, but he ate sparingly of
+the odd-colored fruits; the only thing that could hold his thoughts
+from the hopeless repetition of unanswerable "whys" was the sight of
+the fleet. And every bale and huge drum was tallied mentally as it
+passed before his eyes. The ships were being loaded, and with their
+sailing--But, no! He must not let himself think of that!
+
+Throughout the day ships came and departed, and one leviathan, ablaze
+in scarlet color; sailed in to settle down where great steel arms
+enfolded it, not far from the watching men. Scarlet creatures in
+authority directed operations, and workmen swarmed about the great
+ship. Once McGuire swore softly and viciously under his breath, for he
+had seen a figure that could be only that of Torg, and the crowd
+saluted with upraised arms as the scarlet figure passed into the
+scarlet ship. This, McGuire knew, was the flagship that should carry
+Torg himself. Torg and ----. He paled at the thought of the other
+name.
+
+The only break in the long day came with the arrival of a squad of
+guards, who hustled the two men out into a passageway and drove them
+to another room, where certain measurements were taken. The muscular
+figures of the two were different from these red ones, but it was a
+moment before McGuire realized the sinister significance of the
+proceedings. Their breadth of shoulders, the thickness of their
+chests--what had these figures to do with their captivity? And then
+the flyer saw the measures compared with the dimensions of a steel
+cage. Its latticed shape could be endlessly compressed, and within, he
+saw, were lancet points that lined the ghastly thing throughout. Long
+enough to torture, but not to kill; a thousand delicate blades to
+pierce the flesh; and the instrument, it seemed, was of a size that
+could enclose the writhing, helpless body of a man.
+
+Other unnameable contrivances about the room took on new significance
+with the knowledge that here was the chamber of horrors whose workings
+had been seen by Althora in the mind of their captor--horrors of which
+she could not speak.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was sick and giddy as the guards led him roughly back to their
+prison room. And Professor Sykes, too, required no explanation of what
+they had seen.
+
+The guards were many, and resistance was useless, but each man looked
+silently at the other's desperate eyes when the metal cords were
+twisted again about their wrists, and their hands were tied securely
+to metal rings anchored in the wall beside the window.
+
+"And there," said the flyer, "goes our last chance of escape. They
+were not as dumb as we thought: they knew how good a leap to the
+pavement would look after we had been in there."
+
+"Less than human!" Sykes was quoting the comment of Althora's brother.
+"I think Djorn was quite conservative in his statement."
+
+McGuire examined carefully the cords that tied his hands to the wall
+beside him. The knots were secure, and the metal ring was smooth and
+round. "I didn't know," he said, as he worked and twisted, "but there
+might be a cutting edge, but we haven't a chance. No getting rid of
+these without a wire cutter or an acetylene torch--and we seem to be
+just out of both."
+
+Professor Sykes tried to adopt the other's nonchalant tone. "Careless
+of us," he began--then stopped breathless to press his body against
+the wall.
+
+"It's there!" he said. "Oh, my God, if I could only get it, it might
+work--it might!"
+
+"The battery," he explained to the man beside him, whose assumed
+indifference vanished at this suggestion of hope; "--the little
+battery that I used on the gun, to fire the explosive. It has an
+astounding amperage, and a voltage around three hundred. It's in my
+pocket--and I can't reach it!"
+
+"You can't keep a good man licked!" McGuire exulted. "You mean that
+the current might melt the wire?"
+
+"Soften it, perhaps, depending upon the resistance." Sykes refused to
+share the other's excitement. "But we can't get at it."
+
+"We've got to," was the answer. "Move over this way." The man in khaki
+twisted his arms awkwardly to permit him to bend his body to one side,
+and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as the strain forced the
+thin bonds into his wrists. But he brought his agonized face against
+the other's body, and gripped the fabric of Sykes' coat between his
+teeth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The twisting of his head raised the cloth an inch at a time, and
+despite Sykes' efforts to hold the garment with his elbow, it slipped
+back time and again. McGuire straightened at intervals to draw a
+choking breath and ease the strain upon his tortured wrists; then back
+again in his desperate contortions to worry at the cloth and pull and
+hold--and try again to raise the heavy pocket where a battery made
+sagging folds.
+
+He was faint and gasping when finally the cloth was brought where the
+scientist's straining fingers could grasp it to writhe and twist in
+clumsy efforts that would force the battery's terminals within reach.
+
+"I'll try it on mine," said Sykes. "It may be hot--and you've had your
+share." He was holding the flat black thing to bring the copper tips
+against the metal about his wrists. McGuire saw the man's lips go
+white as a wisp of smoke brought to his nostrils the sickening odor of
+burned flesh.
+
+The metal glowed, and the man was writhing in silent self-torture when
+at last he threw his weight upon the strands and fell backward to the
+floor. He lay for a moment, trembling and quivering--but free. And the
+knowledge of that freedom and of the greater torture they would both
+escape, gave him strength to rise and work with crippled hands at his
+companion's bonds, till McGuire, too, was free--free to forget his own
+swollen, bleeding wrists in compassionate regard for the other.
+
+Like an injured animal, Professor Sykes had licked with his tongue at
+his wrists, where hot wire had burned deep and white, and he was
+trying for forgetfulness an hour later, in examination of the door to
+their room.
+
+"What is the idea?" McGuire inquired, when he turned from his
+ceaseless contemplation of the fleet. "Not trying to get out, are
+you?"
+
+"I am trying to stay in," said Sykes, and looked again at the object
+that interested him. "These long bolts," he explained: "top and
+bottom; operated from outside, but exposed in here. They come together
+when unlocked; five inches apart now. If I had something to hold them
+apart--
+
+"You haven't a piece of steel about five inches long, have you?--or
+anything to substitute for it? If you have, I can lock this door so
+the devils won't come in and surprise us before we can make the jump."
+
+"The battery?" suggested McGuire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sykes shook his head. "I tried it. Too long, and besides it would
+crumble. They operate these with a lever; I saw it outside." He went
+on silently with his study of the door and the little gap between
+heavy bolts, which, if closed, would mean security from invasion.
+
+"They're about through," McGuire spoke from his post at the window
+after some time. "The rush seems to be about over. I imagine they'll
+pull out in the morning."
+
+He pointed as Sykes stood beside him. "Those big ones over beyond have
+not been touched all day; only some of the crew, I judge, working
+around them. And way over you see forty or fifty whaling big ones:
+they must have been ready before we came. They have finished on these
+nearer by. It looks like a big day for the brutes."
+
+And Professor Sykes led him on to talk more of the preparations he had
+seen, and his deductions as to the morrow. It was all too evident what
+was really on the lieutenant's mind. It was not the thought of their
+own immediate death, but the terrible dread and horror of Althora's
+fate, that hammered and hammered in his brain. To speak of anything
+else meant a moment's relief.
+
+Sykes pointed to a tall mast that was set in the plaza pavement, some
+hundred feet away. Wires swung from it to several points, one of them
+ending above their window and entering the building. "What is that?"
+he asked, "--some radio device? That ball of metal on the top might be
+an aerial." But McGuire had fallen silent again, and stared stonily at
+the deadly fighting ships he was powerless to combat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the morning that followed, there was no uncertainty. This was the
+day! And from a balconied window up high in the side of a tall stone
+building, two men stood wordless and waiting while they watched the
+preparations below.
+
+The open space was a sea of motion like flowing blood, where thousands
+of figures in dull red marched in rank after rank to be swallowed in
+the mammoth ships that McGuire had noted in the distance. Then other
+colors, and swarms of what they took to be women-folk of this wild
+race--a medley of color that flowed on and on as if it would never
+cease, to fill one after another of the great ships.
+
+"Transports, that's what they are," said McGuire. "I can see now why
+they have no steel beaks like the others. They don't need any rams,
+nor ports for firing that beastly gas. They are gray, too, while the
+fighting ships are striped with red, all except the scarlet one of
+Torg's. Those are colonists we are watching, and soldiers to conquer
+the Earth where the damned swarm settles."
+
+He stopped to stare at a body of red-clad soldiers, drawn up at
+attention. They made a lane, and their arms were raised in the salute
+that seemed only for Torg. They stood rigid and motionless; then, from
+below the watching men, came one in the full splendor of his scarlet
+regalia. The air echoed with the din of his shouted name, but the
+bedlam of noise fell on deaf ears for McGuire. He could hear nothing,
+and in all the vast kaleidoscope of color he could see only one
+object--the white face of a girl who was half led and half carried by
+a guard of the red ones, where their Emperor led the way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a strangled cry that was torn from the flyer's throat--the name
+of this girl who was going to the doom she had failed to avoid. Her
+life, she had said, was hers to keep only if she willed, but her plans
+had failed, and she went faltering and stumbling after a scarlet man
+beast.
+
+"Althora!" called the flyer, and the figure of the girl was struggling
+with her guards in a frenzy that tore their hands free. She turned to
+look toward the sound of the voice, and her face was like that of one
+dead as her eyes found the man she loved.
+
+"Tommy," she called: "oh, Tommy, my dear! Good-by!" The words were
+ended by the clutch of the scarlet Emperor who turned to seize her.
+
+A clatter came from the door behind them, but Lieutenant McGuire gave
+no heed. Only Professor Sykes sprang back from the balcony to seize
+and struggle with the moving bolts.
+
+The man on the balcony was hardly less than a maniac as he glared
+wildly about, but he was not too unreasoning to see the folly of a
+wild leap into the throng below. He could never reach her--never. And
+then his eyes fell upon the wire that led from above him to the great
+pole in the open plaza. There was shouting from behind where the
+executioners were wrestling with the bolts.
+
+"Hold them," the flyer shouted, "just for a minute! For God's sake,
+Sykes, keep them back! There's a chance!"
+
+He sprang to the balustrade of the balcony, but he saw as he leaped
+where Professor Sykes had raised his leg to force the thickness of his
+knee between the bolts whose levers outside were bringing them closer
+together.
+
+"Go to it," was the answer. "I can hold them"--a stifled groan--"for
+a--minute!" Professor Sykes had found his substitute for five inches
+of steel, and the living flesh yielded but slowly to the pressure of
+the bolts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was working frantically at the wire, then held himself in
+check while he carefully unwound it from its fastening. There was a
+splice, and he worked with bleeding fingers to unfasten the tight
+coils. And then the end was free and in his hands. He dropped to the
+balcony to pull in the slack, and he wrapped the end about beneath his
+arms and twisted it tight, then leaped out into space. No thought of
+himself nor of Sykes in this one wild moment, only of Althora in the
+grip of those beastly hands.
+
+He was struggling to turn himself in the air as the colored masses of
+people seemed sweeping toward him, and he shot as a living pendulum,
+feet first, into the waiting heads.
+
+He was on his feet in an instant and tearing at the twisted wire that
+held him. About him was clamor and confusion, but beyond the nearer
+figures he saw the one who waited, and beside her a thing in scarlet
+that shrieked orders to his men.
+
+He flung off one who leaped toward him, and ducked another to dash
+through and reach his man. And he neither saw nor felt the creature's
+ripping talons as he drove a succession of rights and lefts to the
+blood-red face.
+
+The scarlet one went backward under the fusillade of blows; he was
+down, a huddle of color upon the pavement, and a horde of paralyzed
+soldiers had recovered from their stupefaction and were rushing upon
+the flyer. He turned to meet them, but their rush ended as quickly as
+it began: only a step or two they came, then stopped, to add their
+wild voices to the confusion of ear-splitting shrieks that rose from
+all sides.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire crouched rigid, tense and waiting, nor did he sense for an
+instant that the assault was checked and that the faces of all about
+him were turned to the sky. It was the voice of Althora that aroused
+him:
+
+"Tommy! Tommy!" she was calling, and now she was at his side, her
+arms about him. "What is it, Tommy? Look! Look!" And she too was
+gazing aloft. And then, above all other sounds McGuire heard the
+roar--
+
+The clouds were golden above with the brilliance of midday--and
+against them, hard and sharp of outline, was a shining shape. A cloud
+of vapor streamed behind it as it shot down from the clouds, and the
+thunder of its coming was like the roar of many cannon.
+
+A ship of the red ones was in the air--a fighting ship, whose stripes
+showed red--and it drove at the roaring menace with its steel beak and
+a swirling cloud of gas. It seemed that they must crash, when to
+McGuire's eyes came the stabbing flash of heavy guns from the shining
+shape. A crashing explosion came down to them as the great beak parted
+and fell, and the body of the red-striped monster opened in bursting
+smoke and flame, tore slowly into fragments and fell swiftly to the
+earth.
+
+It struck with a shattering crash some distance away, but one pair of
+eyes failed to follow it in its fall. For in the clear air above, with
+the golden light of distant clouds upon it, a roaring monster of
+silvery sheen had rolled and swept upward to the heights. And it
+showed, as it turned, a painted emblem on its bow, a design of
+clear-cut color, unbelievably familiar--a circle of blue, and within
+it a white star and a bull's eye of red--the mark of the flying
+service of the United States!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire never knew how he got Althora and himself back to the building
+whence he had come. Nor did he see the struggling figures on a
+balcony, or the leap and fall of a maimed body, where Professor Sykes,
+when the door had yielded, found surcease and oblivion on the pavement
+below.
+
+He was to learn that later, but now he had eyes only for a sight that
+could be but a dream, an unreal vision of a disordered brain. He held
+the slim form of Althora to him in a crushing grip, while he stared,
+dry-eyed, above, and his own voice seemed to shout from afar off:
+"They're ours!" that voice was screaming in a frenzy of exultation.
+"They're our ships! They've come across!"
+
+The fighting fleet of the red man-things of Venus was taking to the
+air! The ships rose in a swarm of speeding, darting shapes, and the
+great one of Torg was in the lead, climbing in fury toward the
+heights.
+
+Far above them the clouds of gold silhouetted a strange sight, and the
+air was shaking with the thunder from on high, where, straight and
+true, a line of silver ships in the sharp V of battle formation drove
+downward in a deadly, swift descent.
+
+And even afar off, the straining eyes of a half-crazed man could see
+the markings on their bow--a circle and a star--and the colors of his
+own lost fighters of the air.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+The Earth-fleet was a slanting line of swiftness that swept downward
+from the clouds. A swarm of craft was rising from below. The
+red-striped fighters met the attack first with a cloud of gas.
+
+The scarlet monster--the flagship of Torg, the Emperor--was in the
+lead, and they shot with terrific speed across the bows of the
+oncoming fleet to leave a whirlwind of deadly vapor as they passed.
+McGuire held his breath in an agony of fear as the cloud enveloped the
+line of ships, but their bow guns roared staccato crashes in the
+thunder of their exhausts as they entered the cloud. And they were
+firing from the stern as they emerged, while two falling cylinders of
+red and white proved the effectiveness of their fire.
+
+The formation held true as it swept upward and back where the swarming
+enemy was waiting. They were outnumbered three to one, McGuire saw,
+and his heart sang within him as he watched the sharp, speeding V that
+climbed upward to the enemy's level then swung to throw itself like a
+lance of light at the massed ships that awaited the attack.
+
+Another cloud of gas!--and a shattered ship!--and again the line
+emerged to correct its broken formation and drive once more toward the
+circling swarm.
+
+They came to meet them now, the clusters of red-striped fighting
+ships, and they tore in from all sides upon the American line, their
+hooked beaks gleaming in the sun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, at an unseen signal, the formation broke. Each ship fought
+for its life, and the stabbing flashes of their guns made ceaseless
+jets of light against the smoke and gas clouds that were darkening the
+sky.
+
+"A dog-fight!" breathed Lieutenant McGuire; "and what a dog-fight!"
+His words were lost in the terrific thunder from above: the roar of
+the ships and the dull thuds of the guns engulfed them in a maelstrom
+of noise that battered like physical blows on the watchers below. He
+swore unconsciously and called down curses upon the enemy as he saw
+two fighters meet while the shining beak of a ship of the reds crashed
+through the body of an opposing craft.
+
+The red ship dipped at the bow; it backed off with terrific force; and
+from the curved beak a ship with the insignia of the red, white and
+blue slid downward in a swift fall to the death that waited.
+
+They had fought themselves clear, and the Americans, by what must have
+been arrangement or wireless order, went roaring to the heights. There
+were some who followed, but the guns of the speeding ships drove them
+off. Red-and-white shapes fell swiftly from the clouds where the
+fighting had been, and McGuire knew that his fellows had given an
+account of themselves in the fighting at close range.
+
+Again the thundering line was sharp and true, and another unswerving
+attack was launching itself from above. And again the deadly
+formation, with ever-increasing speed, drove into the enemy with
+flashing guns, then parted to close with the ones that drove
+crushingly upon them, while the sharper clatter of rapid-firing guns
+came to shatter the air.
+
+The fighting craft had been rising from their level field in a
+succession that seemed endless. They were all in the air now, and only
+the great transports remained on the paved field.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A red-striped fighter swept downward in retreat, and, from the smoke
+clouds, a silvery shape followed in pursuit. It reached the red and
+white one with its shells, and the great mass crashed with terrific
+impact on the field. Its pursuer must have seen the monsters still on
+the ground, and it swung to rake them with a shower of small-caliber
+shells.
+
+There were machine-guns rattling as it passed above the thronged
+reds--the troops who were huddled in terror in the open court. It tore
+on past them--past a figure in khaki who raced forward with the golden
+form of a girl within his arms, then released her to wave frantically
+as the silver ship shot by.
+
+Unobserved, McGuire and Althora had been, where they stood beside the
+buildings: the eyes of their enemies, like their own, were on the
+monstrous battle above. But now they had called themselves to the
+attention of the reds, and there were some who rushed upon them with
+faces livid with rage.
+
+McGuire reached for a weapon from a victim of the machine-gun fire and
+prepared to defend himself, but the weapon was never used. He saw the
+silvery shape reverse itself in the air; it turned sharply to throw
+itself back toward the solitary figure in uniform of their service and
+the golden-clad girl beside him.
+
+The flyer raised his weapon, but the jostling swarm that rushed upon
+him melted: the ripping fire of machine guns was deafening in his
+ears. Their deadly tattoo continued while the great ship sank slowly
+to touch and rest its huge bulk upon the pavement. A door in the
+ship's curved side opened that the blocky figure of a man might leap
+forth.
+
+He was grimy of face, and his uniform was streaked with the smoke and
+sweat of battle, but the face beneath the grime, and the hands that
+reached to embrace and pound the flyer upon the back, could be only
+those of one he had known as his captain--Captain Blake.
+
+"You son-of-a-gun!" the shouting figure was repeating. "You damned
+Irish son-of-a-gun! A. W. O. L.--but you can't get away with it! Come
+on--get in here! I'm needed up above!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGuire was struggling to speak from a throat that was suddenly tight
+and voiceless. Then--
+
+"Althora," he gasped; "take Althora!" and he motioned toward the girl.
+And then he remembered the companion he had left in the room above.
+The battle that had flashed so suddenly had blasted from his mind all
+other thoughts.
+
+"My God!" he said. "--Sykes! I--must get Sykes!"
+
+He turned to run back to the building, only to stop in consternation
+where a huddle of clothing lay beneath the balcony of their prison
+room.
+
+It was Sykes--Sykes who had sacrificed himself to make possible the
+escape of his friend--and McGuire dropped to his knees to touch the
+body that he knew was shattered beyond any hope of life. He raised the
+limp burden in his arms and staggered back where more khaki-clad
+figures had gathered. Two came quickly out to meet him, and he let
+them take the body of his friend.
+
+"_C'est fini!_"--he repeated the words that Sykes had said; "the end
+of our little journey!" The arms of Althora were about him as Blake
+hurried them into the waiting ship, and the roar of enormous power
+marked the rising of this space ship to throw itself again into the
+fray.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A small room with a dome of shatter-proof glass; a pilot who sat there
+to look in all directions, a control-board beneath his hands. Beside
+him on his elevated station was room for Captain Blake, and McGuire
+and Althora, too. The ship was climbing swiftly. McGuire saw where
+flashing shapes circled and roared in a swelling cloud of smoke and
+gas.
+
+Blake spoke sharply to an aide: "General orders! All ships climb to
+resume formation!"
+
+An enemy ship was before them: it flashed from nowhere to bear down
+with terrific speed. The floor beneath them shook with the jarring of
+heavy guns, and McGuire saw the advancing shape bursting with puffs of
+smoke, while their own ship shot upward with a sickening twist. A
+silver ship was falling!--and another!
+
+"Two more of ours gone," said Captain Blake through set teeth. "How
+many of them are there, Mac? Tell me what you know: we've got a hell
+of a fight on our hands."
+
+"They're all here," McGuire told him, in jerky, breathless speech.
+"These are transports on the ground. Their weapons are gas and speed,
+and the rams on their beaked ships. There are other weapons--deadlier
+ones!--but they haven't got them: they belong to another race. I'll
+tell you all that later!"
+
+"Keep them at a distance, Blake," he said. "Make them come to
+you--then nail them as they come."
+
+"Right!" was the answer; "that's good dope. We didn't know what they
+had; expected some devilish things that could down us before we got
+within effective range; had to mix it with them to find out what they
+could do, and get in a few solid cracks before they did it.
+
+"How high are we?" He glanced quickly at an instrument. "Ten thousand.
+Order all ships to withdraw," he instructed his aide. "Rendezvous at
+fifty thousand feet for echelon formation."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Another brush with an enemy craft that slipped quickly to one
+side--then the smoke clouds were behind them, and a score, of silvery
+shapes were climbing in vertical flight for the level at fifty
+thousand.
+
+They were fewer now than they had been, and the line that formed
+behind the flagship of Blake was shorter than the one that had made
+the V which shot down so bravely to engage with an unknown foe.
+
+The enemy was below; an arrangement of mirrors showed this from the
+commander's station. They were emerging from the clouds of smoke to
+swarm in circling flight through the sky. And now the bow of their own
+craft was depressed at an order from Blake, and the others were behind
+them as they drove to renew the attack.
+
+"They're ganging up on us again," said Blake. "We'll fool them this
+time; we'll just kid them a little."
+
+The flagship swerved before reaching the enemy, and the others
+followed in what looked like frightened retreat. Again they were in
+the heights, and some few of the enemy were following. Blake led in
+another descent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+No waiting swarm to greet them now! Blake gave a quick order. The
+roaring column shifted position as it fell: the flagship was the apex
+of a great V whose arms flung out and backward on either side--a V
+formation that curved and twisted through space and thundered upon the
+smaller formations that scattered before the blasting guns.
+
+"Our bow guns are the effective weapons," Blake observed; his casual
+tone was a sedative to McGuire's tense nerves. "We can use a broadside
+only of lighter weight; the kick of the big 'sights' has to be taken
+straight back. But we're working, back home, on recoil-absorbing guns:
+we'll make fighting ships of these things yet."
+
+He spoke quietly to the pilot to direct their course toward a group
+that came sweeping upon them, and the massed fire of the squadron was
+squarely into the oncoming beaks that fell beneath them where the
+mirrors showed them crashing to the earth.
+
+They were scattered now; the enemy was in wild disorder; and Blake
+spoke sharply to his aide.
+
+"Break formation," he ordered; "every ship for itself. Engage the
+enemy where they find them; shoot down anything they see; prevent the
+enemy reforming!" He was taking quick advantage of the other's
+scattered forces, and he scattered his own that he knew could take
+care of themselves while they engaged the enemy only by ones or twos
+or threes.
+
+"Clear the air of them!" he ordered. "Not one of them must escape!"
+
+The skies were a maze of darting shapes that crossed and recrossed to
+make a spider's web of light. Ship drove at ship, to swerve off at the
+last, while the air quivered and beat upon them with the explosion of
+shells and guns.
+
+"There's our meat!" Blake directed the pilot, and pointed ahead where
+a monster in scarlet was swelling into view.
+
+It came swiftly upon them, darting down from above, and McGuire
+clutched at the arm of the man beside him to shout: "It's the leader;
+the flagship! It's the Emperor--Torg, himself! Give him hell, Blake,
+but look out--he's fast!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The ship was upon them like a flash of fire; no time for anything but
+dodging, and the pilot threw his craft wildly aside with a swerve that
+sent the men sprawling against a stanchion. Then up and back, where
+the other had turned to come up from below.
+
+"Fast!" McGuire had said, but the word was inadequate to describe the
+speed of the fiery shape.
+
+Another leap in the air, as their pilot swung his controls, and the
+red shape brushed past them in a cloud of gas, while the quick-firers
+ripped futilely into space where the great ship had been.
+
+"Get your bow guns on him!" Blake roared. The ship beneath them
+strained and shuddered with the incredible thunder of the generator
+that threw them bodily in the air. The pilot had opened in full force
+the ports that blasted their bows aside.
+
+No time to gather new speed; they were motionless as the scarlet
+monster came upon them, but they were in position to receive him. The
+eight-inch rifles of the forward turret thundered again and again, to
+be answered by flashes of flame from the scarlet ship.
+
+McGuire crouched over the bent form of the pilot, whose steady fingers
+held the ship's bow straight upon the flashing death that bore down
+upon them. Another salvo!--and another!--hits all of them.... Smoke
+bursting from ripping plates, and flaming fire more vivid than the
+scarlet shape itself!--and the floor beneath McGuire's feet drove
+crushingly upward as their pilot pulled a lever to the full.
+
+The great beak flashed beneath--and the mirrors, where McGuire's eyes
+were fastened, showed the terrific drive continue down and down, where
+a brilliant cylinder that marked the power of Venus tore shriekingly
+on to carry an Emperor to his crashing death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The skies were clear of the red-striped ships: only the survivors of
+the attacking force showed their silvery shapes as they gathered near
+their flagship. There were two that pursued a small group of the
+enemy, but they were being outdistanced in the race.
+
+"We have won," said Blake in a tone of wonder that showed how only now
+had come a realization of what the victory meant. "We have won, and
+the earth--is saved!"
+
+And the voice of McGuire echoed his fervent "Thank God!" while he
+gripped the soft hand that clung tightly to his, as if Althora, this
+radiant creature of Venus, were timid and abashed among the joyful,
+shouting men-folk from another world.
+
+"And now what, Captain?" asked McGuire of his command. "Will you land?
+There is an army of reds down there asking for punishment."
+
+Blake had turned away; his hand made grimy smears across his face
+where he wiped away the tears that marked a brave man's utter
+thankfulness. He covered his emotion with an affectation of
+disapproval as he swung back toward McGuire.
+
+"Captain?" he inquired. "Captain? Where do you get that captain
+stuff?"
+
+He pointed to an emblem on his uniform, a design that was unfamiliar
+to the eyes of McGuire.
+
+"You're talking to an admiral now!--the first admiral of the newest
+branch of your country's fighting service--commanding the first fleet
+of the Space ships of the United States of America!" He threw one arm
+about the other's shoulders. "We'll have to get busy, Mac," he added,
+"and think up a new rank for you.
+
+"And, yes, we are going to land," he continued in his customary tones;
+"there may be survivors of our own crashes. But we'll have to count on
+you, Mac, to show us around this little new world of yours."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was an army waiting, as McGuire had warned, but it was waiting
+to give punishment and not to take it. The vast expanse of the landing
+field was swarming with them, and the open country beyond showed
+columns of marching troops.
+
+They had learned, too, to take shelter; barricades had been hastily
+erected, and the men had shields to protect them from the fire of
+small arms.
+
+Their bodies were enclosed in their gas-tight uniforms whose ugly
+head-pieces served only to conceal the greater ugliness beneath. They
+met the ships as they landed with a showering rain of gas that was
+fired from huge projectors.
+
+"Not so good!" Blake was speaking in the safety of his ship. "We have
+masks, but great heavens, Mac!--there must be a million of those
+brutes. We can spray them with machine-gun fire, but we haven't
+ammunition enough to make a dent in them. And we've got to get out and
+get to our crashed ships."
+
+He waited for McGuire's suggestions, but it was Althora who replied.
+
+"Wait!" she said imperatively. She seemed to be listening to some
+distant word. Then:
+
+"Djorn is coming," she exclaimed, and her eyes were brilliantly
+alight. "He says to you"--she pointed to McGuire--"that you were
+right, that we must fight like hell sometimes to deserve our
+heaven--oh, I told him what you said--and now he is coming with all
+his men!"
+
+"What the devil?" asked Blake in amazement. "How does she know?"
+
+"Telepathy," McGuire explained: "she is talking with her brother, the
+leader of the real inhabitants of Venus."
+
+He told the wondering man briefly of his experience and of the people
+themselves, the real owners of this world.
+
+"But what can they do?" Blake demanded.
+
+And McGuire assured him: "Plenty!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He turned to Althora to ask, "How are they coming? How will they get
+here?"
+
+"They are marching underground; they have been coming for two days.
+They knew of our being captured, but the people have been slow in
+deciding to fight. Djorn dared not tell me of their coming; he feared
+he might be too late.
+
+"They will come out of that building," she said, and indicated the
+towering structure that had been their prison. "It has the old
+connection with the underground world."
+
+"Well, they'd better be good!" said Blake incredulously.
+
+He was still less optimistic when the building before them showed the
+coming of a file of men. They poured forth, in orderly fashion and
+ranged themselves in single file along the walls.
+
+There must be a thousand, McGuire estimated, and he wondered if the
+women, too, were fighting for their own. Then, remembering Althora's
+brave insistence, he knew his surmise was correct.
+
+Each one was masked against the gas; their faces were concealed; and
+each one held before him a tube of shining metal with a larger bulbous
+end that rested in their hands.
+
+"Electronic projectors," the lieutenant whispered. "Keep your eye on
+the enemy, Blake; you are going to learn something about war."
+
+The thin line was advancing now and the gas billowed about them as
+they came. There were some few who dropped, where masks were
+defective, but the line came on, and the slim tubes were before them
+in glittering menace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a distance of a hundred feet from the first of the entrenched enemy
+there was a movement along the line, as if the holders of the tubes
+had each set a mechanism in operation. And before the eyes of the
+Earth-men was a spectacle of horror like nothing in wars they had
+known.
+
+The barricades were instantly a roaring furnace; the figures that
+leaped from behind them only added to the flames. From the steady rank
+of the attackers poured an invisible something before which the hosts
+of the enemy fell in huddles of flame. Those nearest were blasted from
+sight in a holocaust of horror, and where they had been was a
+scattering of embers that smoked and glowed; even the figures of
+distant ones stumbled and fell.
+
+The myriad fighters of the army of the red ones, when the attackers
+shut off their invisible rays, was a screaming mob that raced wildly
+over the open lands beyond.
+
+Althora's hands were covering her eyes, but McGuire and Blake, and the
+crowding men about them, stared in awe and utter astonishment at the
+devastation that was sweeping this world. An army annihilated before
+their eyes! Scores of thousands, there must be, of the dead!
+
+The voice of Blake was husky with horror. "What a choice little bit
+out of hell!" he exclaimed. "Mac, did you say they were our friends?
+God help us if they're not!"
+
+"They are," said McGuire grimly. "Those are Althora's people who had
+forgotten how to fight; they are recapturing something that they lost
+some centuries ago. But can they ever destroy the rest of that swarm?
+I don't think they have the heart to do it."
+
+"They do not need." It was Althora speaking. "My people are sickened
+with the slaughter. But the red ones will go back into the earth, and
+we will seal them in!--it is Djorn who tells me--and the world will be
+ours forevermore."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A matter of two short days, crammed to the uttermost with the
+realization of the astounding turn of events--and McGuire and Althora
+stood with Blake and Djorn, the ruler, undisputed, of the beautiful
+world of Venus. A fleet of great ships was roaring high in air. One
+only, the flagship, was waiting where their little group stood.
+
+The bodies of the fallen had been recovered; they were at rest now in
+the ships that waited above. McGuire looked about in final wonder at
+the sparkling city bathed in a flood of gold. A kindly city
+now--beautiful; the terrors it had held were fading from his mind. He
+turned to Althora.
+
+"We are going home," he said softly, "you and I."
+
+"Home?" Althora's voice was vibrant with dismay.
+
+"We need you here, friend Mack Guire," the voice of Djorn broke in, in
+protest. "You have something that we lack--a force and vision--something
+we have lost."
+
+"We will be back," the flyer assured him. "You befriended me: anything
+I can do in return--" The grip of his hand completed the sentence.
+
+"But there is a grave to be made on the summit of Mount Lawson," he
+added quietly. "I think he would have preferred to lie there--at the
+end of his journey--and I must return to the service where I have not
+yet been mustered out."
+
+"But you said--you were going home," faltered Althora. "Will that
+always be home to you, Tommy?"
+
+"Home, my dear," he whispered in words that reached her only, "is just
+where you are." His arm went about her to draw her toward the waiting
+ship. "There or here--what matter? We will be content."
+
+Her eyes were misty as they smiled an answer. Within the ship that was
+lifting them, they turned to watch a city of opal light grow faintly
+luminous in the distance ... an L-shaped continent shrunk to tiny size ...
+and the nebulous vapors of the cloudland that enclosed this world folded
+softly about.
+
+"We will lead," the voice of Blake was saying to an aide: "same
+formation that we used coming over. Give the necessary orders. But,"
+he added slowly to himself, "the line will be shorter; there are fewer
+of us now."
+
+An astronomical officer laid a chart before the commander. "We are on
+the course, sir," he reported.
+
+"Full speed," Blake gave the order, and the thundering generator
+answered from the stern. The Space Fleet of America was going home.
+
+
+(_The End_)
+
+
+
+
+_A meeting Place for Readers of_ Astounding Stories
+
+[Illustration: _The Readers' Corner_]
+
+
+_"Absurd" to "Superb"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     Unfortunately, I missed the January number of your very
+     excellent magazine, which I consider superior to any of its
+     type. I brought seven copies--February to August--with me on
+     my vacation, and have so far read the first three from cover
+     to cover.
+
+     The February and March numbers were almost above reproach,
+     but the April number contained two stories so surprisingly
+     poor that I can only conjecture the Editor was ill at that
+     time. They were "The Man who was Dead," by Thomas H. Knight
+     and "Monsters of Moyen," by Arthur J. Burks. For Mr. Knight
+     there is no hope. To him I can only say "Stop trying to
+     write and get a job." I am a rapid and omnivorous reader,
+     but never have I read a story so utterly bad as his. He gets
+     the booby prize.
+
+     Arthur J. Burks, although a master artist in comparison to
+     Knight, is pretty poor--terrible, in fact. His style is
+     dull, repetitious, and stilted. His melodrama is exaggerated
+     to the point of nauseating absurdity. His characters are
+     lifeless and unnatural puppets. So much for the faults.
+
+     Among the best Science Fiction stories I have read is "The
+     Planet of Dread," by R. F. Starzl in the August number. I
+     also very much enjoyed the "Dr. Bird" stories by Capt. Meek,
+     and indeed all the others, barring the two I criticized in
+     such a helpful, friendly spirit. Leinster and Cummings are
+     old favorites of mine.
+
+     I prefer your present cover but disagree with your attitude
+     towards reprinting the older works of such authors as George
+     Allen England, Serviss and Cummings, which are now
+     unobtainable and would, I believe, be received with pleasure
+     and applause.
+
+     Congratulations--Joseph S. Stull, 291 Barrington St.,
+     Rochester, N. Y.
+
+     P.S. Since I wrote I have read the May and June
+     numbers--both perfect. C. D. Willard is a superb
+     storyteller.
+
+
+_Wrong Numbers Still!_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I agree with the rest of your readers in the good things
+     they say about your magazine in "The Readers' Corner." There
+     is one story, however, "The Planet of Dread," in your August
+     issue, that gives me a rather sickening feeling of disgust.
+     The trouble was in the climax. After the hero has wandered
+     over quite a portion of the planet Inra, he arrives at some
+     mountains where, lo and behold! an unexpected space ship
+     drops from the clouds to an unfrequented ledge of rock and
+     makes a rescue. After this sensational climax comes an
+     equally thrilling anti-climax--the hero is offered three
+     years' salary for his story. To accuse the future world of
+     doing such a thing is an open insult to our posterity. Ten
+     per cent of my high school freshmen took just such an ending
+     to their first themes.
+
+     As that story took up about one-seventh of your space and
+     your magazine cost twenty cents. I figure you owe your
+     readers three cents on that issue. But, due to the fineness
+     of the rest of your stories, I am willing to forget your
+     debt as far as I am concerned.
+
+     I am happy to see that you are beginning to print articles.
+     I read with interest the one about Mechanical Voices for
+     Telephone Numbers in your September issue. But can't
+     something be done about wrong numbers? The article states
+     that a person dialed the number 8561T. Two seconds later the
+     loud-speaker spoke up, clearly, in an almost human voice,
+     8651T. Wrong number! Must this evil be with us always!
+
+     I am NOT in favor of reprints. You are printing stories
+     every month just as good as any of those suggested to you. I
+     have read most of those classic scientific stories referred
+     to. The best stories along this line have not been written
+     yet. Keep your space clear for them. Let us have young blood
+     with new ideas. Let our authors eat. Good stories were never
+     written on an empty stomach.
+
+     I believe yours is the highest type of the few magazines
+     that lay a greater stress on the brains of the hero than on
+     his good looks. But, for the sake of one of your ardent
+     readers, let that hero use his brains to get himself out of
+     whatever he has gotten into. Don't let a space ship swoop
+     down from above to rescue him. That type of story reminds me
+     a lot of the one where Jonah was rescued from the deep by
+     the timely arrival of the friendly whale. By the way,
+     there's a suggestion for a reprint. I will admit that it
+     would be just about as new to me as some of the others that
+     have been suggested in this "Corner."--Richard Lewis, 448
+     Marion St., Knoxville, Iowa.
+
+
+_Not So "Green" in Ireland_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I suppose it's not often you get a letter from an Irish
+     "Paddy," but here's one now. Here in Cork we don't get
+     magazines like Astounding Stories regularly, but I got the
+     May issue to-day and could not stop until I had devoured it
+     from cover to cover. "The Atom Smasher" is a story which I
+     have been hunting for for years. When I had finished it, I
+     had to sit back and leave out all the breath which I was
+     holding in in a prolonged "whew!" If ever I get the luck to
+     find another Astounding Stories I'll burn up the pages
+     looking for the name Victor Rousseau. Next in order I liked
+     "Brigands of the Moon" and "The Jovian Jest." Thought the
+     story "Into the Ocean's Depths" an awful fairy tale, but
+     otherwise good reading. The painter of the cover design is a
+     real artist and I wish to express my appreciation of his
+     wonderful rendering of a difficult subject.--Fitz-Gerald
+     Grattan, 11 Frankfield Terrace, Summerhill South, Cork,
+     Irish Free State.
+
+
+_Worthy His Evening and Pipe_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I have read my first copy of Astounding Stories, the
+     September.
+
+     The first paragraph in the first part of "A Problem in
+     Communication" assured me that I had found a book worthy of
+     my evening and pipe.
+
+     Read that paragraph and you will find Dr. Miles Breuer is
+     most brilliant in his philosophy and clever in the
+     application of that philosophy in his masterpiece of the
+     science of communication.--Don L. Schweitzer, 1402 Bancroft
+     St., Omaha, Nebr.
+
+
+_"Taking a Claw Hold"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     Was just reading the September issue of A. S. and find it
+     ranging first among the Science Fiction magazines now
+     printed. I'm certain your "Jetta of the Lowlands" is going
+     to be a masterpiece of Ray Cummings. He is my favorite
+     writer.
+
+     I did not like "Earth, the Marauder." It was too much drawn
+     out and very dry. "Brigands of the Moon" was excellent.
+
+     I wish you would print my letter, as I'd like any one, male
+     of female, interested in science to write to me. Would you
+     kindly oblige me?
+
+     I'm glad to see girls taking interest in your magazine, as
+     it shown science is taking a claw hold on everyone--Harold
+     BegGell, 29 Stewart St., Washington, N. J.
+
+
+_This and That_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     In the October issue of Astounding Stories, Mr. Woodrow
+     Gelman casts vote No. 1 for reprints. Well, here is vote No.
+     2. I intended to reply to all your arguments against
+     reprint, but Mr. Gelman has done this very satisfactorily,
+     indeed. I only wish to make a few additional comments.
+
+     You say that only one out of a hundred haven't read reprints
+     [?]. Fifty out of a hundred would be more correct. Five
+     years ago there wasn't a single magazine devoted exclusively
+     to Science Fiction. Now there are six of them, more or less.
+     These magazines have converted thousands of readers into
+     Science Fiction fans. These readers ought to be given a
+     chance to read the old masterpieces. Even those who have
+     read them would be glad to reread them.
+
+     With the exception of the reprints you have pretty near
+     carried out all the readers' wishes. You have put in a
+     readers' department, increased Wesso's illustrations, given
+     us many interplanetary stories, and given us the stories of
+     the leading authors of the day. Surely you can give us
+     reprints when the demand for them is so universal. The ones
+     I want are those written by Cummings, Merritt, Rousseau and
+     Serviss, and I am sure that the rest of the readers want
+     them too. If you are still doubtful, the fairest thing to do
+     is to conduct a vote among the readers. I hope that you
+     will pardon me for being so persistent, but I am sure that
+     you are working in the best interests of the readers and
+     that you will accede to a great and growing popular demand.
+
+     Now about the latest issue of Astounding Stories. "The
+     Invisible Death" is the best novelette you have printed up
+     to now. With the exception of Ray Cummings, the best author
+     you have is Victor Rousseau. I am glad to see that there is
+     another story by Rousseau scheduled for next month. Murray
+     Leinster is a close third, and I hope to see more of his
+     stories soon. The second part of "Jetta of the Lowlands" was
+     better than the first. "Stolen Brains" was also excellent.
+     Keep on printing the Dr. Bird stories. I like them very
+     much.
+
+     Although the stories were splendid, the cover illustration
+     was poor. I believe that this is the worst cover that Wesso
+     has ever drawn. The main fault with it is that there is no
+     science in it. It would be more appropriate for one of those
+     detective magazines. "The Invisible Death" has many other
+     interesting scenes from which Wesso could have chosen a more
+     fitting subject. However, Wesso is your best artist and you
+     ought to keep him.--Michael Forgaris, 157 Fourth St.,
+     Passale, N. J.
+
+
+_"Not Spoiled by ... Editor"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     There is one advantage that Astounding Stories has over all
+     of the other Science Fiction magazines. It does not
+     overburden one with an exposition of scientific facts. Too
+     often a story is ruined by a lot of dry textbook stuff that
+     turns an exciting story into a lecture.
+
+     In Astounding Stories we can soar away on the wings of
+     imagination, escaping the humdrum everyday world to new and
+     amazing adventures. The hours fly away like the speed of
+     light, and upon finishing the book our only regret is that
+     we have to wait a whole month before another issue takes us
+     aloft again.
+
+     Having unburdened myself thus far, I think it is most
+     fitting to comment upon your latest (October) issue. To my
+     mind, the stories in order of merit are: "The Invisible
+     Death," "Stolen Brains," "Jetta of the Lowlands," "Prisoners
+     on the Electron," and "An Extra Man."
+
+     I certainly am glad to see Ray Cummings writing for your
+     most excellent magazine. He is an A-1 author.
+
+     It does not make a particle of difference to me about the
+     size of the magazine, but I wish you would have smooth edges
+     like those of your Five-Novels Monthly.
+
+     Am glad to see that "The Readers' Corner" is enlarged. I
+     always turn to this first, even before reading the stories.
+     This is a most entertaining department, and I'm glad it is
+     not spoiled by any perfunctory remarks from the editor.
+
+     How about publishing Astounding Stories twice a month?--E.
+     Anderson, 1765 Southern Blvd., New York City, New York.
+
+
+_Roses, Daisies and Violets_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     In appreciation of an enjoyable evening of reading--which
+     extended, by the way, into the wee, sma' hours of early
+     morning--I thought to drop you a few lines, speaking of the
+     high regards your magazine. Astounding Stories, has won from
+     me through merit alone. Your October number particularly
+     fitted into my reading mood last night.
+
+     After the daily grind of newspaper work, it might seem odd
+     that relaxation is sought in "more reading"--but it has been
+     my experience, and that of many of my co-workers. I find,
+     that the relief from the high tension of our trade comes
+     from the change in the character of what we read, rather
+     than in "something else," such as physical recreation.
+     Fiction relaxes where "news" has keyed up.
+
+     And in the Science Fiction of your magazine's stories of
+     super-science, I find the keenest periods of mental
+     enjoyment through the admirable selection of Astounding
+     Stories' mixed adventure, unique travel and prophetic
+     science. In this I am not alone--a number of my
+     acquaintances have reveled likewise in your magazine at my
+     suggestion.
+
+     I have not quite settled in my mind as to whether you have
+     trained your writers to exploit this special field of
+     magazine fiction, which you occupy so successfully, or, in
+     your editorial capacity, have so well selected the stories
+     that bear the hallmarks of this peculiar interest that
+     appeals so strongly to my leisure hours.
+
+     By whichever road your success has been reached is
+     immaterial--Astounding Stories has registered with me in a
+     degree which should be flattering to your editorial
+     supervision, if I represent, as I think I do, that large
+     class of magazine readers who prefer and seek a
+     science-coated outlet from the humdrum of every day living
+     in mental adventure and travel-thrill reading.
+
+     Have I presented clearly why and how much I like your
+     magazine of Astounding Stories!--E. P. Neill, 910 East Ave.,
+     Red Wing, Minn.
+
+
+_"Much Easier to Turn"_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     Once more I am impelled to give a roar. The last few issues
+     have been filled with letters from readers who are evidently
+     not satisfied with a "different" magazine. If they do not
+     like to read "our" magazine then let them quit, but don't
+     let a heckling minority spoil a real treat. My particular
+     growl this time is directed towards Robert Baldwin and
+     others of his ilk, who squawk about the size (i. e. length
+     and width) of the mag and the uneven pages. The size is
+     perfect (and just because the craze for standardization has
+     hit some of the other Science Fiction mags and they have
+     gone ga-ga over being an awkward shape, that is no reason
+     for your going ahead and spoiling this one) and the uneven
+     pages are a relief when reading because it is much easier to
+     turn over a leaf when they are of a slightly different
+     width.
+
+     However, to take some of the sting off, I must say some of
+     the ideas of said Mr. Baldwin are O. K. Enlarge the mag--of
+     course you will, as readers increase and sales go up.
+     Larger, as he says, "It will be worth the other jitney." Put
+     ads in the rear. Have full page illustrations when possible.
+     But another thing he is absolutely wrong on. Please do not
+     adopt the antique method of continuing a story on page
+     umptyump.
+
+     Some of the readers are still yowling for reprints. Well, it
+     is true that some reprints would be very acceptable.
+     However, as most of the really good old-time tales of
+     Science Fiction can be procured in any good sized library,
+     why bother to print them and thus decrease the space
+     allotted to our new authors, some of whom are even better
+     than Wells, Verne, etc., much as I like the old masters.
+
+     By the way, my "enlarge" in the second paragraph means in
+     thickness (amount of reading matter), not shape.
+
+     Wesso has always been good, and he seems to be improving,
+     though he and others might be still better if they would
+     carefully read the descriptions of persons and animals of
+     other planets before picturing them. I don't wish to make
+     this blurb too long, so will not be specific, but you and
+     others probably have seen the same as I, where the
+     illustration has not been true to the description.
+
+     It might interest you to know that I have been instrumental
+     in getting several new readers for Astounding Stories. Long
+     live "our" new mag.--Robert J Hyatt, 1353 Kenyon St., N. W.,
+     Washington, D. C.
+
+
+_Ow! Ow! Ow!_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I have just looked at "The Reader's Corner" in the October
+     issue of Astounding Stories. It disgusted me. What you print
+     there--only letters praising your magazine to the skies?--or
+     do you occasionally print a brickbat?
+
+     I've bought your magazine each time since it was first
+     printed. And many times I've felt like quitting. Why? There
+     are a number of reasons.
+
+     First, you print stories that have nothing to do with
+     science, such as "The Soul Master." Second, your
+     illustrations are poor. They would look better if they were
+     full page ones. Wesso is the best artist you have. Gould and
+     Sabo are just plain cartoonists, and mighty poor ones at
+     that. Third, you print stories that give a weak and
+     implausible scientific basis. Diffin, Gee, Leinster and
+     several others err in this respect. Fourth, rotten paper--it
+     goes to pieces after being handled. Fifth, no editorial or
+     science questionnaire.
+
+     Your authors will not starve if you print reprints. Rousseau
+     and a lot of others write for other magazines. And reprints
+     would occupy such a measly space that they could hardly be
+     called down for being printed.
+
+     Your magazine has some good features: a good cover; good
+     authors like Breuer, Vincent, Meek, Ernst and Starzl; clear
+     type; and handy size.
+
+     If anyone thinks I'm wrong--well my address is given. This
+     challenge includes the editor. I sincerely hope you will
+     improve your magazine--Edwin C. Magnuson, 1205 E. Ninth St.,
+     Duluth, Minn.
+
+
+_Suggestions_
+
+     Dear Editor:
+
+     I have read your excellent magazine ever since it came out,
+     and though it needs a few corrections like the others, A. S.
+     is nearly perfect. Why not have your pages evened up, and
+     add a department of science on subjects such as Rocket
+     Propulsion etc., so the readers could become familiar with
+     the mystifying problems stated in the stories? Have the
+     advertisements in the back, and don't change your artists as
+     their work is satisfactory.
+
+     Robert Baldwin of Illinois has an excellent list of
+     suggestions. Why not have a page devoted to the pictures and
+     biographies of your writers, and full page illustrations?
+     Why not have a space for good reprints and charge a nickel
+     more? I am sure it will be appreciated by readers. Why don't
+     you put out a Quarterly, twice as thick or containing twice
+     as many stories for fifty cents?--A satisfied reader--Hume
+     V. Stephani, 37-1/2 Wood St., Auburn, New York.
+
+
+_"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._
+
+
+[Illustration: Advertisement.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Astounding Stories, February, 1931, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES, FEBRUARY, 1931 ***
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