Venus Omnibus

by

Otis Adelbert Kline

Book Index

Planet of Peril

Prince of Peril

Port of Peril

Planet of Peril

First Published 1929

Contents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER I

ROBERT ELLSMORE GRANDON stifled a yawn with difficulty as the curtain went down on the first act of Don Giovanni and wondered what was the matter. It wasn't that opera bored him, or that tonight's performance was inferior; in fact, what he had been able to give his attention to struck him as being among the best performances he had seen. But something was distracting him, something he could not put his finger on; and the effort to keep his attention on the music and the performers was tiring him. Perhaps it was just one of those days, he thought.

He was tired of life at twenty-four, he decided—tired and disillusioned and somehow trapped. After his spell of military service, he'd broken away from family obligations and expectations to join revolutionaries in Cuba. The struggle there had seemed important, worth risking his neck for; but he'd seen, much earlier than some others, that the new regime was just a change of masters. He'd gotten out while getting out was easy and returned to take up the career in insurance administration that his uncle wanted him to take—the uncle who had paid his college expenses. Now, Robert and Vincent Grandon would prepare for the position that. Uncle Arthur would be leaving in a few years. It would be a good career for both young men; for while only one could step into Arthur Grandon's shoes, the second spot would be no less desirable.

Very likely, with full effort, he could make the top—but his cousin had the extra measure of devotion to the business that Robert Grandon simply couldn't bring. Robert Ellsmore Grandon yearned for action, adventure, romance—something that seemed to be gone in this world of the Twentieth Century.

He made his way to the bar thinking that he'd chuck it all in a moment for a chance to think and act for himself, for a chance to accomplish something worthwhile according to his own lights. Yes—insurance was worthwhile, he thought as he sat at the bar and beckoned to Louis, but not worth his while.

Louis looked his way, nodded, and started to mix a gibson for him. The bartender had a curious grin on his face as he set the glass down. "Did you get the message, Mr. Grandon?"

Robert Grandon blinked. "What message?"

"Didn't you see the papers today?"

Grandon shook his head. "Just glanced at them. What's up?"

Louis went back and bent down, to return with the Times, folded to a certain page, and placed it on the bar before him. To Grandon's astonishment, he saw a sketch of himself staring him in the face.

"Had you planned in advance to come tonight, Mr. Grandon?"

Grandon looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. "No—now that you mention it, I hadn't. I was going to ask a friend to come with me next Friday night. Came down this morning to see about tickets, and decided that I'd come tonight alone, when I found that there was a good seat available…Don't know why, now that I think of it."

Louis' face wore a strange smile. "Read that ad, Mr. Grandon. Maybe you are the one."

Grandon picked up the paper. The heading read, "I Want You!" There was no caption under the sketch; beneath it, the text said: "I do not know your name, or anything about you, except that you are in the city. I want to perform an experiment, and you may be the man I need. If you are, you will know by these tokens.

"You will feel an urge to go to a certain place tonight which you may or may not have been planning to go to, and you will want to get there around 8 p.m. Starting at 8:30 p.m., every half hour, I will send you a message. You may not hear it the first or second time, but you may feel distracted. If you are the man I want, it will seem as if a voice is speaking to you. It will be a voice in your mind; it will say 'Doctor Morgan' and direct you to go to a particular spot. There a man will be waiting for you; he will ask you a question which I shall also tell you of when I communicate with you. Please give him a hearing before you decide."

"Looks as if you've gotten the first part of it, Mr. Grandon. You hadn't expected to come tonight, but here you are."

Grandon put the newspaper down. It had been just about half an hour after the performance started that he'd begun to feel distracted and a little irritated.

Louis said, "It's two minutes of nine, Mr. Grandon. Maybe you'll get the message this time."

Grandon sipped the gibson, with his eyes on the clock. He tried to relax, to let himself open to whatever thoughts might come into his head. He'd heard of experiments in telepathy, and while he didn't find parapsychology too convincing, he had no strong bias against it. In fact, he'd thought that it might be fascinating if this sort of thing could be so. Here would be a new frontier if…

It wasn't exactly a whisper, but there was a softness about a voice he now seemed to hear yet not to hear. It said, "Doctor Morgan." Grandon sat up straight. Again it came: "Doctor Morgan." A third time; then the voice said, "Go to the telephone booths in the lobby. A man wearing a tuxedo with a green lapel pin will offer you a cigarette."

The voice ceased. Grandon waited a moment or two, but there was nothing more.

"Did you get it, Mr. Grandon?" asked Louis eagerly.

Grandon finished his gibson and put a bill down on the bar. "Could be," he said. "I have a pretty good imagination, you know. Think I'll wait another half hour and see."

He left the bar. Either this was or it wasn't. If it was, then he might as well follow up now as wait another half hour. If it wasn't, it didn't make any difference; he couldn't possibly pay any attention to the opera now, no matter who was singing.

He made his way to the phone booths in the lobby and looked around, oblivious to the feminine eyes that turned to glance at his broad shoulders and curly black hair. No one fitting the description he'd received was in sight. He waited a moment and began to feel foolish.

Just imagination, he decided a little sadly. Well, there was time for a cigarette before he had to get back to his seat. He was reaching for his case when a pleasant voice at his right said, "Try one of mine, won't you?"

Grandon turned and looked into the smiling eyes of a man about his own age. A man wearing a tuxedo with a green lapel pin. He accepted with thanks.

"Excellent performance, don't you think?" volunteered the smiling one, lighting a cigarette himself which he had, unnoticed by Grandon in his confusion, taken from the side of the case opposite the one which he had extended a moment before.

"I suppose so—ah—why, yes, of course…"

Grandon was beginning to feel unaccountably drowsy.

Suddenly he slumped forward, and would have fallen on his face, but for the quick assistance of the friendly young man. A moment later he lost consciousness.

An attendant came running up. "What's the matter with your friend?" he asked.

"Fainted dead away. It's his heart; he's had spells like this quite often lately. Help me get him outdoors."

The two of them carried Grandon outside, followed by the more curious bystanders. When he reached the sidewalk, the young man waved to the driver of a car parked on the other side of the street. It immediately swung across and drew up to the curb.

"Let's put him in the car," said the young roan. "I'm used to this—a spin on Michigan Boulevard will revive him. Just needs fresh air. His doctor has told me how to handle him."

They lifted Grandon into the car and the driver put the top down. The young man handed a crisp bill to the attendant and got into the car, which drove away.

CHAPTER II

WHEN GRANDON regained consciousness he was lying on a cot in a dimly lighted room. He looked about him in bewilderment as he saw four bare concrete walls, a heavy oak door studded with many large bolts, and a small window fitted with powerful iron bars more than an inch in diameter.

There was a chair and a small table with a lamp on it next to the cot. On the table, Grandon saw a sheet of paper. He rolled over and picked it up, switching on the lamp.

"Dear Mr. Grandon," he read, "I must admit and apologize for technically kidnapping you; but I hope to be able to persuade you shortly that this was both necessary and to your advantage. Now I must ask you to be patient for a little while; I shall see you soon. The drug you were given should be wearing off by evening—you were kidnapped last night—and I can assure you that it will have no harmful after-effects, physical or mental." The paper was signed, "Dr. Morgan."

Grandon arose and tottered unsteadily toward the door. It was evidently locked from the outside, for he could not rattle it. He went to the window and peered out. Night had fallen, and a myriad of twinkling stars looked down at him from a clear sky. Not a tree, house, or earthly object of any kind was visible. There was only the starry sky above and the black void below.

He heard the sound of talking, and wheeled about as a bolt slid back and the door opened. Two men entered. The foremost was tall and of large structure; his forehead was high and bulged outward, so that his shaggy eyebrows, which grew together above the bridge of his aquiline nose, half-concealed his eyes. He wore a painted, closely-cropped beard, in which a few gray hairs proclaimed him as middle-aged. Behind him was the young man who had given him the drugged cigarette in the lobby of the opera house.

The young man advanced and extended his hand. "How are you feeling now, Mr. Grandon?" he asked. "Ah, you seem surprised that we know your name. That will be explained to you. I should have introduced myself sooner. My name is Harry Thorne. Allow me to present Doctor Morgan."

The big man held out his hand and said in a booming bass voice, "This is a pleasure I have long anticipated, Mr. Grandon."

It was nothing like the voice he had heard in his mind, and yet it was the same voice. Grandon realized that at once; and his curiosity, added to the feeling of confidence in these men's intentions toward him that the note had imparted, washed away any resentment he might feel at their methods. He clasped the doctor's muscular hand and muttered an acknowledgment.

"And now," said Morgan, "if you will accompany us to dinner, we shall start the explanation due you. Afterwards, I shall ask you to read two interesting manuscripts before we talk further; they will tell you far more, and prepare you far better, for the experiment I have in mind than a lecture from me."

In Dr. Morgan's drawing room, where night had given way to day while Robert Ellsmore Grandon read two novel-length manuscripts, Dr. Morgan—who had entered just as Grandon was finishing the last chapter of the second box of neatly-typed pages—smiled at his guest quizzically. "What do you think of them?" he asked.

Grandon shook his head. "If I hadn't had the experience of the past day or so, I'd think they were just good stories and nothing more. Even so, they sound fantastic:

"They are," Morgan agreed. "But nonetheless true. To summarize briefly, I started experimenting with telepathy ten years ago, and finally succeeded in building a device which would pick up and amplify thought waves."

"And thought waves, you found," said Grandon, "are not limited by space or time. So you picked up the waves projected by another man who had built a similar device to project them—only this man was on Mars."

"But not the present-day Mars—the Mars of some millions of years ago, when a high human civilization did exist there."

"And you and this Martian scientist, Lal Vak, found that persons who are nearly doubles in physical appearance may have similar brain-patterns —enough alike so that consciousness may be exchanged between them. Your first experiment involved such an exchange between an Earthman named Harry Thorne and a Martian named Borgen Takkor. The man you now call Harry Thorne was born on Mars as Borgen Takkor, while the true Harry Thorne is now living on Mars—and leading a most adventurous and satisfying career from the account I just read."

Dr. Morgan nodded. "He and his princess have had many adventures together beyond those related in the first manuscript. To us, of course, both have been dead millions of years. But it is possible for me to tune in on their lives at any point where Harry was transmitting to me. He has never regretted his choice."

"Then," went on Grandon, "you got in touch with a Venusian named Vorn Vangal, who is a contemporary of Lal Vak and Borgen Takkor. With his help you constructed a space-time vehicle through which your nephew, Jerry Morgan, was able to go to Mars in the flesh. And he, too, made out pretty well."

Morgan nodded. "Yes. I sent Jerry to Mars that way, and hoped that I'd be able to send someone to Venus the same way. But my telekinetic control failed in some way on the return trip, and I never recovered the ship I built for Jerry. Vorn Vangal said he would build one on Venus and send it to Earth for me, so that I could visit him, but I do not know when this will be possible. It may be soon; it may not be for some years." Morgan smiled. "And I'm not too patient a man. I know that it is possible for me to get an account of Venus as seen by Earthmen's eyes—the Venus that was, in relation to the Mars that was—just as I learned about Mars in those two manuscripts you've read. So I asked Vorn Vangal if he could send me the brain-waves of two Venusians, to see if I could find their counterparts here on Earth. Then Harry urged me to try to see if there was a Venusian with whom he could change personalities—so I sent his picture and brain-wave pattern to Vorn Vangal."

"I see. And Vorn Vangal sent you the picture and brain-wave pattern of a Venusian who was—me."

"Yes. You'll recall that Lal Vak had shown one how to construct a mind-compass, which would indicate whether there were any living persons here on Earth whose brain-waves corresponded with those of the Martians whose pictures he sent me. This would not only aid in my finding such people here on Earth, it would also protect me from disappointment on coming across someone who looked right, but whose brain-pattern did not match closely enough for an exchange of personalities, after all."

"Has that happened?" Grandon asked.

"Only once. But now it's all arranged for Harry; and I hope you'll be interested in going to Venus, too."

Grandon smiled. "After reading those two accounts of conditions on Mars, I certainly am. Of course, I suppose it's nothing like Venus."

"There are differences, of course, but the civilizations are on a somewhat similar level. The planet is known as Zarovia, and your physical counterpart is a gentleman who has been enslaved by an Amazon ruler—a princess with no thought save of her own pleasure. He finds it impossible to escape from bondage, and is therefore willing to make the exchange. Mr. Thorne's bodily duplicate is a prince of a realm on the opposite side of the planet from that occupied by the slave. The prince has been petted and pampered and shielded from all danger, and longs for adventure; he is willing to exchange bodies for a time with Mr. Thorne. Well, what do you say? Are you willing to make the trip?" Grandon smiled.

"You know, Doctor, I'm a little surprised. You investigated the Earth-born Harry Thorne very carefully, because you'd made a bad choice and sent a criminal to Mars ahead of him. You knew your nephew thoroughly because you were in telepathic communication with him for years though he didn't know it then. But what do you know about me?"

"Touche!" chuckled Morgan. "I forgot to tell you. I've gone a good ways beyond telepathic projection in the last few years. When I contacted your mind, I also got a very full picture of your character and personality—no intimate details, but sufficient to assure me that you were the sort of man I wanted. And that you were very likely to go along with me if the way could be cleared for you…But suppose you tell me of any inhibiting factors; I think they can be cleared up."

Robert Ellsmore Grandon recounted his personal situation briefly, and Morgan nodded. "Yes," he said. "This checks with the information I've gathered on Mr. Arthur Grandon since you arrived here. He's sincerely devoted to you, you know. I don't believe he'll stand in the way if he knows you want to go on some caper of your own and by your own choice. Suppose you phone him long distance now. Here's what I suggest you tell him…"

"You were right, Doctor," Grandon said after bidding his uncle farewell. "Uncle Arthur agrees that Vincent is better suited to handle the firm than I. He just wanted me to try for awhile and see—says he half expected something like this when I disappeared and was concerned lest I forget to let him know."

"Then we need waste no more time, Mr. Grandon."

"But—my body will remain here while my personality goes to Venus. What happens to it?"

"You need have no fear about that. The man who comes to inhabit it—forgotten about him, haven't you?—will naturally be careful of it; for if he loses it there will be no return for him, either to this world or his own."

"What do we have to do in order to exchange bodies? And how will you keep in touch with me?"

"I will, at regular intervals, establish telepathic rapport with you and Thorne while you are asleep. You will know nothing of these telepathic communications—which will be as detailed as those you read last night—unless I see fit to convey a message to you which will probably come in the form of a dream, so vivid that you will remember every detail. If you wish to communicate with me for any reason whatever, I will learn of it when I establish rapport with you."

Grandon sighed. "I'm ready. Want me to lie down and look into a mirror the way Harry Thorne did when you sent him to Mars?"

"Right. And the present Harry Thorne will follow you in a few hours—you may meet on Venus, though it isn't too likely." He set up the mirror, painted with alternate circles of red and black, as Grandon reposed on the sofa. "Now think of Venus, far off in time and space—millions of miles, millions of years away…"

CHAPTER III

ROBERT ELLSMORE GRANDON, was awakened from a sound sleep by a shaft of brilliant sunlight which shone through the mica-paneled window of the quarry-slaves' sleeping quarters. He blinked, turned uneasily, then sat up. His muscles appeared stiff and bruised and his back smarted and burned. He noticed that his sole articles of apparel consisted of a scarlet breechcloth and a pair of sandals of strange design. His skin was browned; his hands were rough and callused. His face was covered with a thick, black beard, and his hair was matted and unkempt.

He rose stiffly and walked to the window, hoping for a clear view of a Zarovian landscape, but he was disappointed, for in front of his window there stretched a solid wall of black marble cliffs. The only visible vegetation consisted of a few pink toadstool-like growths which grew from niches in the rock, some over twelve feet in height.

He turned and glanced at his roommates. Fifty men were quartered in the sleeping shed. The bedding consisted of a coarse, dried moss, which made an exceptionally resilient couch. The men were attired like Grandon, except that their breechclouts were gray instead of scarlet. Their skins were sun-burned like his own, and marked with scars and open wounds.

Grandon was startled by a hollow booming sound, and someone on the outside opened a large door at the center of the shed. Instantly every man sprang to his feet, and he saw that they were forming in single file to march through the door. He joined the procession, which was heading for a large building in the midst of a group of sheds similar to the one he had occupied, and saw that the sound emanated from a large cylinder of iron suspended from a steel beam in front of the building, and beaten by a man who wielded a large club wrapped with thongs.

Heavily-armed guards stood at intervals of about fifty feet on either side of their pathway. Each guard carried a tall spear with a broad blade about four feet long; a sword with a basket hilt, its blade rather like that of a scimitar, hung from the left side of the belt.

From the right depended a weapon which was utterly strange to Grandon. It was about two feet long, oblong like a carpenter's level, and apparently composed of blued steel. A rivet passed completely through it about four inches from the end, holding it firmly to the belt, although it could be tilted at any angle, and its wearer could point it in any direction by turning his body.

Grandon had yet to learn the efficiency of this weapon, the tork, which fired needlelike glass projectiles filled with a potent poison that paralyzed man and beast alike almost as soon as it penetrated, and had a range as great as the most powerful of rifles. These tiny bullets were propelled by a highly explosive gas, ignited by an electric spark at the touch of a button.

The gas was compressed in a chamber at the rear of the tork, while the glass missiles were held in a magazine near the muzzle. After a shot was fired, the weapon would automatically reload, a bullet sliding into place in front while just the right charge of gas was released in the chamber behind it. Each tork held a thousand rounds of ammunition.

The slaves passed through the building where each man had his ration doled out to him: a bowl of stewed mushrooms and a steaming cup of a beverage which Grandon found to be very much like a strong wine.

As he followed his companions, Grandon noticed that each man stopped before a small shrine and stood for a moment with head bowed low and hand extended toward it, palm downward. When he reached the shrine, he stopped as the others had done, then gave a gasp of amazement at a life-size painting of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She wore a robe of scarlet, ornamented with gold and precious stones, and a jeweled band of platinum imprisoned a mass of golden curls which were piled on top of her head after a style different from anything he had ever seen. She was seated on a massive golden throne with cushions of scarlet, across the arms of which rested a scarbo—a sword like those carried by the guards, but with a hilt of gold studded with rubies.

Could this be the Amazon ruler of whom Dr. Morgan had spoken?

A sharp exclamation brought him to his senses; he turned and saw an overseer advancing with whip upraised. Quickly bowing as the others had done, he ran forward to join his fellow slaves.

Once outside the building, the men seated themselves on the ground in little scattered groups for their morning meal. Grandon joined a company of those who had occupied the same dormitory with him.

He could not take part in the general conversation because the language was unintelligible to him—yet the words sounded strangely familiar. A recollection of their meaning was stored in the brain cells of the body which had become his, but the ego which was Grandon could not interpret them. He kept silent and listened.

The meal finished, the slaves were herded to the quarries by their drivers. Each driver, who had charge of ten slaves, wore both tork and scarbo in his belt and carried a whip, the five lashes of which were woven from some coarse fiber and interwoven with short pieces of a brittle, nettlelike moss, which broke off in the skin of the victim, inflicting pain like that of a thousand bee stings.

Grandon managed to keep pace with his fellow slaves. The intense heat of the sun would have made labor in the open impossible, had it not been constantly tempered by the floating clouds of vapor, ever present in the dense, moist Zarovian atmosphere.

The marble was being removed from the hillside in large rectangular blocks, by thousands of slaves working on a series of terraces, each of which was the height of one of the blocks. The crews were so distributed that the terraced hillside constantly retained the same general contour.

Grandon's crew worked on the bottom terrace all morning, but were ordered to the top in the afternoon to reinforce the laborers in that section who, for some reason, had not kept up their quota. He and a fellow slave were removing one of the heavy blocks by means of levers when his end slipped and fell on another block, breaking off a large fragment. The driver raised his whip and struck Grandon a stinging blow across the shoulders.

Quickly wheeling, Grandon landed a tremendous right hook on the point of the man's jaw. It was a clean knock-out. Another driver came running with whip upraised, but Grandon bowled him over with a marble fragment and ran through the group of startled slaves toward the brow of the hill. Someone raised the alarm and a half dozen torks were immediately pointed toward the fugitive. Several slaves fell, struck by the missiles intended for him, as he disappeared over the hilltop.

Before him stretched a dense, waving forest of tree ferns into which he plunged without slackening his speed, his pursuers close behind. As he dodged in and out among the tree trunks he could hear their halloos growing fainter and fainter; finally no sound was audible except the rustling of the countless, wind-shaken fern leaves.

He slackened his pace and, after proceeding about a mile farther, stopped and looked about him.

Huge tree ferns with rough trunks and foliage growing out of the tops like that of palm trees, some of them over seventy feet in height, towered above the shorter, more bushy varieties which were themselves giants. Then there were climbing ferns hanging in tangled masses, creeping ferns and dwarf, low-growing kinds, barely raising their fronds above the thick carpet of moss which everywhere covered the forest floor.

Grandon noticed that the ground slanted slightly toward his right, and intuition told him that this might lead to a valley and water. He changed his course accordingly. He hoped also to find some fruits, berries or nuts with which to satisfy his hunger.

As he trudged wearily forward, sunset was succeeded by twilight, and before he realized it, the black, moonless Zarovian night had spread its impenetrable mantle about him.

Suddenly, from out the darkness behind him, came a peal of horrible, demoniac laughter.

As he wheeled, two glowing phosphorescent orbs were slowly advancing as if something were creeping or slinking toward him. Then, without warning, the hideous noise was repeated at his left.

He turned to face another pair of menacing eyes, then leaped for the trunk of the nearest tree-fern and climbed it barely in time to escape the snapping jaws that yawned beneath him.

Not until he had reached the leaf-crown, fifty feet above the ground, did he pause or look downward. Then he saw, not two, but a dozen pairs of eyes glancing toward him, while peal after peal of the nerve-racking laughter smote his ears.

Time dragged along. What manner of things were these? Evidently they were unable to climb, or they would have followed him ere this. The fact that they did not leave, even after several more hours had elapsed, made it evident that they expected to get him.

He had been hearing a peculiar crunching sound some time before he located it and guessed the terrible truth.

They were gnawing through the base of the tree trunk!

When morning came, it looked as if Grandon's luck was running out. He'd made a desperate leap when the first tree started to fall and landed on another. The beasts followed and started to work on his new refuge. He'd found what felt like a coarse thick rope, and recognized it as the stem of one of the large climbing ferns he'd seen the day before. That led him to the crown of another tree twice the size of the one he left. But now the beasts had felled that one and were patiently gnawing at his. third refuge.

Now he could see them below—twelve of the most fearsome creatures he'd ever seen. They looked like hyenas, but were twice as large, their bodies covered with thick scales, black and mottled with orange spots. Each beast had three horns, one projecting from either temple, and one sprouting out between the eyes. Six of them were gnawing at the base of his tree while the other six rested. Apparently they were working in shifts.

Then he saw a man about two hundred yards away, walking with his eyes on the ground as if following a trail. He was armed with scarbo, tork, and knife, and carried a long bundle strapped to his back. Someone sent out to trail the fugitive slave, no doubt, Grandon thought. Well, he'd have a surprise soon.

A moment later, one of the beasts scented the newcomer, and uttered the laugh with which Grandon was now familiar. All work on Grandon's tree stopped and the pack charged the stranger.

Now the Earthman witnessed the power of the tork. The leader of the pack fell a full fifty feet from his quarry; seven more met a similar fate in as many seconds. The rest turned and fled. Then the man drew his knife and coolly and deliberately cut the throat of each animal. He glanced at the two fallen trees, then walked over to the one in which Grandon was perched.

"Come down, Robert Grandon," he said, in English.

Grandon was so surprised he nearly fell out of the tree.

"Who are you," he asked, "and where did you learn my language?"

"Come down and I will explain."

"You might come up," suggested Grandon. "I don't fancy the climate down there. I suppose you have instructions to bring me back dead or alive. I won't go back alive."

"You are mistaken, Robert Grandon. I have come to your aid. To prove this, I need only mention that I have communicated with Dr. Morgan of your planet for several years. Now will you come?"

Grandon slid down the rough tree trunk. When he reached the ground, the stranger advanced. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Vorn Vangal, and my home is in the distant country of Olba."

"How do you do, Mr. Vangal," replied Grandon, extending his hand.

Vorn Vangal looked puzzled. "What is it you wish?"

"Why—nothing at all. I forgot that our custom of shaking hands might be unknown here."

"I have never heard of it," said Vangal. "I hope you will pardon the ignorance which kept me from returning your proffered salute. Show me how you do it, please."

Grandon explained, and for the first time in the history of that planet, two men shook hands on Zarovia.

"A very pretty custom," Vangal said. "I shall introduce it in Olba on my return. I will explain the various forms of salutes used on Zarovia. When one is presented to a stranger he merely bows slightly and acknowledges with words. Two intimate friends on meeting sometimes press their foreheads together. Then there are the military salutes, the salutes to royalty, et cetera. For instance, the reigning Torrogina of Reabon—or princess as you would call her—would be saluted thus." He made a low bow and extended his hand as Grandon had seen the slaves do the day before in front of the shrine.

"In the company with my fellow slaves, I bowed thus before a picture of a beautiful young woman yesterday," said Grandon. "Can it be that this is the Amazon princess of whom Dr. Morgan spoke?"

"She can be none other than Vernia, Princess of Reabon, who has ruled that country since the death of her father, Margo, who made Reabon the largest and mightiest empire in all Zarovia."

"I should like to meet her," said Grandon.

"To say that you should like to meet her is equivalent to saying that you should like to die. Thaddor, Prince of Uxpo, whose body you now inhabit on Zarovia, had the temerity to make love to her. She sentenced him to work in the quarries for life; and to run away after such sentence has been passed is equivalent to signing your own death warrant, in Reabon."

"Nevertheless, I hope some day to meet her. By the way, friend Vangal, I suspect that you have food and drink in that long bundle you are carrying, and I have tasted neither since yesterday morning."

"Can it be possible?" ejaculated Vangal. "But of course! You are not familiar with the fern forests of Zarovia. No one carries food or drink in these forests, for both are about him in abundance."

He drew his knife and cut a branch from the bush-fern under which they were standing. "Here. Taste water as pure and delicious as may be found in all Zarovia."

Grandon put the end of the branch to his lips and drank greedily, while Vangal gathered several large spore-pods and split them open with his knife.

"I shall have to teach you the woodcraft of Zarovia before I leave you," said Vangal. "But come, we must go as far as possible from this vicinity at once, or the soldiers of the Torrogina may find us."

"I am puzzled to know how it happened that you found me before the Reabonians," said Grandon.

"Because I followed your trail, while they merely ran about in the forest, guessing at what direction you had taken. The men of Reabon know nothing of following a trail, which is as an open book to my people of Olba. But here, I have brought you weapons and trappings." Vangal unrolled the long bundle. "Fasten this belt about your waist and cross the straps over your shoulders, so. Now let us be off."

The two swung away through the forest glades, Grandon armed like his companion with tork, scarbo and knife. As they walked side by side, Vangal explained the use of the tork, and showed Grandon how to insert the extra clips of bullets and gas which were in his belt.

"What do you call those strange creatures that treed me last night, and why did you cut their throats after you had already dispatched them with bullets?" inquired Grandon.

"They are called hahoes, so named because of their peculiar cries, and are mostly eaters of carrion, although they will seek and bring down fresh meat when driven to do so by hunger. I cut their throats because the poison in the tork bullets paralyzes temporarily, but does not kill. I prefer to use this kind rather than those bullets which carry deadly poison."

The sun was high in the heavens when they reached the bank of a small stream. Here the character of the vegetation changed considerably, for while large tree-ferns were still in evidence here and there, as well as the smaller varieties, there were huge fungus growths unlike anything Grandon had previously encountered. Colossal toadstools, some of which reared their heads for fifty feet in the air, grew all about in an endless variety of forms and colors.

"We are now more than twenty miles from the marble quarries and in an excellent place for a camp," said Vangal. "I will help you build a shelter and remain with you for a week to teach you Zarovian woodcraft, and patoa. At the end of that time I must journey to the other side of the planet, in order to assist your friend, Harry Thorne."

"What is patoa?" asked Grandon.

"It is the universal language of Zarovia," replied Vangal. "While every nation has its own language, we have, in addition, patoa, which is taught to the children of every country from infancy. When you have mastered this tongue, you will have the means of conversing with any intelligent being you may meet."

The rest of the day was spent in building Grandon's new abode.

CHAPTER IV

AFTER THEY had eaten on the following morning, Vorn Vangal said: "No doubt you are anxious to know something about this country, and the person you represent on Zarovia. The wild, mountainous kingdom of Uxpo, of which these forests are a part, is situated at the extreme southern limit of the empire of Reabon. Uxpo, together with seven other kingdoms, was originally conquered by the famous emperor, Margo, and its fierce, previously unbeaten mountaineer people reduced to slavery.

"Upon Margo's death, three years ago, the people of Uxpo entertained high hopes of freedom. They had learned that the emperor's daughter, Vernia, a mere slip of a girl, had succeeded to the throne; they revolted and, almost overnight, slew every soldier, officer and agent of the empire. Their old king had been executed by Margo at the time of the invasion, but his elder son, Lugi, was placed on the throne.

"Two days afterward a courier brought news that the princess Vernia was coming at the head of a hundred thousand soldiers. Lugi assembled his five thousand mountaineers and went forth. The army of Uxpo was annihilated, and Lugi was executed for treason. Once more the fierce Uxponians bowed their necks to the yoke of the conqueror.

"Lugi had a young brother named Thaddor—your double. This youth was of a mild and gentle disposition, and it was for this reason, perhaps, that Vernia spared his life and allowed him the privilege of her court.

"Prince Thaddor, however, fell madly in love with her. He had always found women susceptible to him; so when one evening he attempted to make love to her, he was little prepared for the storm of anger which followed, and his being condemned to labor in the quarries for life.

"For some time I had been searching for a man dissatisfied with life on this planet, to accompany our Prince of Olba on the journey to your world. I heard of Prince Thaddor's predicament, and experienced little difficulty in persuading him. When Dr. Morgan reported that you were about to make the journey I immediately came hither in order to be of assistance to you. On learning of your escape, I trailed you to the tree in which you had been driven by the hahoes. The rest you know."

Vangal stayed with Grandon for a week, teaching him patoa and woodcraft, and the use of the tork, and scarbo. On the evening of the seventh day he stated that the time had arrived for him to return.

"No doubt you are anxious to be back among your friends," remarked Grandon. "Is the journey a long one?"

"Olba is on the opposite side of the planet; roughly, about twelve thousand of your Earth miles from here."

"And you will go all that distance afoot?"

"Hardly. My airship is concealed in a ravine only a short distance from here. In one day's time I shall be home. By leaving here in the evening I shall arrive there in the morning, for it is morning in Olba when it is evening in Reabon."

"What motive power do you use?"

"Ah, my friend, I regret that I am not at liberty to divulge that, for Olba is the only country on the planet in which airships are made or, used. The factories and the secrets of manufacture are the exclusive property of the government, and have been since the first airship was invented, nearly four centuries ago.

"My people are not given to conquest. In the airship they have a potent means of defense from their warlike neighbors. If the Reabonians, for example, knew the secret, they would long ago have subjugated most of the other Zarovian nations."

Together the men walked to the ravine where the airship was concealed. Grandon beheld what looked like a small metal duck-boat with a curved glass dome over the tiny cockpit. The airship was about ten feet long and three wide, and without planes, wings, propeller, or rudder.

Vangal noted the look of surprise on the face of his companion.

"You seem puzzled," he said, smiling slightly. "It will do no harm for me to explain something of this craft's general principles, so long as I do not betray the actual secret of motive power.

"Immediately in front of the glass dome you will notice a small, round bulge in the deck. Under that bulge is a delicate mechanism which it is impossible to remove or take apart without breaking a small vial of acid that will instantly destroy it. This mechanism is the motive power of the craft, so you can readily see that it would be quite impossible for an enemy to learn our secret by capturing one of our ships.

"You have heard of telekinesis—the power with which your terrestrial mediums sometimes cause tables and other ponderable objects to rise and hang suspended, or move about in the air without physical aid. My people have been familiar with this wonderful power of the mind for many centuries; this mechanism responds to, and amplifies telekinesis to a remarkable degree. By mind power I am able to cause the craft to rise and hang suspended at almost any altitude, or to move in any direction, backward, forward, or sidewise. For emergency use, in the event of the failure of the motive power, there are two parachutes, one under the small round lid at either end of the craft. By pressing a button I cause the lids to fly back and the parachutes to project from the holes and open almost instantly."

"A most astounding and wonderful invention," exclaimed Grandon.

"Perhaps some day you will visit Olba, and when you do, Vorn Vangal will see that you are provided with a suitable craft as long as you stay in the country—for none but a government official or employee may take one of these airships over the border. It is growing late, and I must begin my journey," Vangal continued, opening the door in the rear of the dome and stepping inside. "Farewell, my friend. I admonish you to hurry hone at once. I see you have not brought your tork or scarbo with you. That is unwise. From now on, never travel without them. On Zarovia you are in constant danger from attack by man or beast. Farewell, and may you soon be firmly seated on the throne of Uxpo."

Grandon warmly clasped the hand of his departing friend, and a feeling of indefinable sadness came over him as he watched the tiny craft rise noiselessly and smoothly to a height of perhaps a thousand feet, then dart away, to be lost to view in a few seconds.

As he stood looking in the direction Vangal had taken, he was startled by the sound of a stealthy footfall behind him. He wheeled, but his eyes could not penetrate the shadows, for night had come on with its characteristic suddenness. At the sound of a second footfall he turned and dashed off through the forest, only to find himself amid a group of warriors with leveled torks.

CHAPTER V

DESPITE THE FACT that the audience chamber of the imperial palace of Reabon was crowded with people, the silence was intense for the scarlet curtains which surrounded the massive throne had been drawn back, signifying the approach of the Torrogina.

Those who stood at the lower end of the hall and farthest from the throne were the slaves, the prevailing color of whose garments was gray. Next to the slaves stood the common people—tradesmen, farmers, merchants, mechanics, and the like—attired in blue. Then came the nobles and their families, who might be recognized anywhere by their purple garments; and finally members of the royal families of Reabon and her many rogats, who were privileged to wear scarlet, the universal Zarovian color of royalty, and to stand next to the throne during audiences.

All eyes were turned toward the door as four men entered, carrying a great golden palanquin with curtains of scarlet. The litter-bearers all wore heavy beards, cut off square below the chin. On their heads were jeweled golden crowns, and their scarlet garments proclaimed their royal birth. They were kings of four of the sixteen kingdoms which comprised the empire of Reabon, and were serving their allotted time in attendance on the Torrogina Vernia, as was required by law.

Behind the palanquin walked the illustrious Orthad, commander of all the armies of Reabon, and responsible only to the princess herself. He was armed with tork and scarbo, and resplendent in his magnificent uniform, which was of purple, decorated with no inconsiderable quantity of gold fringe, gold braid and jewels. On a scarlet cushion held before him he carried the great jeweled scarbo, scepter of Reabonian authority.

A hundred members of the Imperial Guard marched behind in double file, and ranged themselves at regular intervals along the wall. Their uniforms were of an olive green color, decorated with silver in lieu of the gold which adorned that of their commander.

When the four palanquin-bearers arrived at the foot of the throne which was reached by four broad steps, they gently lowered their burden to the floor, and each stepped forward and lay, face downward, on one of the steps. No sooner had they taken their places than the scarlet curtains parted, and the beautiful ruler of the greatest empire in all Zarovia, Vernia, of Reabon, emerged and ascended the four human steps to the throne.

As she took her seat with quiet dignity, everyone bowed low with right hand extended palm downward. She sat there attired in a clinging garment of scarlet material that left her white arms and shoulders bare, her jeweled crown resting lightly on her fluffy golden curls.

The first person to seek audience before the throne was a gayly-uniformed ambassador from the great western empire of Mernerum, laden with costly presents, and bringing a proposal of marriage; despite the fact that this same suitor had been refused a score of times before.

When Bonal, her prime minister, advised her that the ambassador from Mernerum sought audience, Vernia looked a trifle bored. "Are there not several other ambassadors with presents and similar messages waiting without?" she asked.

"Yes, your majesty, there are ten in all from as many empires."

"Send them all in at once. I can say 'No' to all collectively; otherwise our entire day will be taken up and important business of the empire will have to be postponed."

The ten ambassadors traversed the length of the hall with much pomp and ceremony, each followed by a concourse of slaves laden with the most costly presents a great emperor could procure, and humbly bowed before the throne. Bonal announced their ten proposals as one. Vernia promptly and courteously declined, and they sadly took their departure.

Her matrimonial offers disposed of, the Torrogina listened to the reports of the rulers of her various provinces. Last on the list came Uxpo, as it was the last kingdom conquered. Though the other provinces were ruled by princes, this one was under the control of a military commander; its people had not been completely subjugated. A captain bore tidings from his commander. He humbly approached the foot of the throne, waited for permission to speak, then announced: "Prince Thaddor has escaped from the quarries. He nearly killed two of his guards and ran away into the fern forest."

Vernia was greatly surprised. That Prince Thaddor had found courage to escape seemed incredible to her; but that he had nearly killed two of his guards in the process seemed little short of miraculous.

"You have sent soldiers after him, I presume."

"Men are scouring the forests and mountains in search of him, but up to the time of my departure, no trace had been found. There is another matter of which my commander bids me speak. It has been prophesied by some unknown soothsayer that a great fighter is coming from another world to lead Uxpo to victory and independence. This ridiculous prediction has spread throughout the kingdom, and as a result it is seething with unrest. The Fighting Traveks of Uxpo make nightly raids on our soldiers, and even the women and children have grown rebellious."

Vernia frowned slightly. "This mutiny must be put down, once and for all. Orthad: assemble an army of ten thousand men at once—I will lead them in person. Bonal: my palanquin-bearers. Postpone all further hearings until my return from Uxpo."

A half hour later two men stood on one of the smaller balconies of the imperial palace in whispered conversation. One wore the scarlet of royalty, the other the purple of the nobility and the trappings and insignia of an imperial commander.

The one in scarlet, a youth of twenty, whispered hoarsely: "Have a care, my worthy Zueppa. I hear quite well, you know. Are you sure the four men who are to constitute her personal bodyguard will not fail us?"

"Their loyalty to your highness, Prince Destho, is beyond question. If they fail they will die, rather than betray us."

"They must not fail. After all, the task is not too difficult. They have only to hide her in the northern mountains for a year—a short year, mind you—then none will dare to question my title to the throne. And you, my faithful Zueppa: Second only to myself, you will hold the greatest office in Zarovia."

"May I not again remind your highness that there is a much easier and simpler way to attain our ends?"

"Stop, fool! Do you take me for an assassin? My ambition is great, but my desire for this woman is greater. You must detain her for a year; then return her to me unharmed."

Within half an hour of his capture by these men who called themselves the Fighting Traveks, Robert Ellsmore Grandon learned how quickly a man's status could change in Zarovia. They were impressed by the fact that he wore the color of royalty and seemed captivated when he identified himself as Grandon of Earth.

After a brief consultation amongst themselves, the stranger was given a choice. He could go his way in peace, or remain with the Fighting Traveks once he demonstrated his fitness—which meant overcoming whichever of them he chose to encounter in a duel. Since the alternative would be to face the Venusian beasts alone and unarmed, Grandon challenged the leader of this band.

The man was a good fighter, but the art of fencing was unknown here. Once Grandon adjusted himself to the scarbo, and his opponent's manner of fighting—which was roughly comparable to scimitar or broadsword technique—a well-directed lunge stretched the leader of the Fighting Traveks at the Earthman's feet.

Then came the surprise. The band now greeted Grandon as their mojak; he had beaten the leader—he was now in command. When his second-in-command came up for orders, Grandon told him to carry on as before.

The lieutenant saluted. "Did you say your name was Grandon of Urgg? I cannot pronounce it."

"Well, you may call me Grandon of Terra," he suggested.

"Grandon of Terra!" the lieutenant repeated. "We salute you."

The men prepared shelter and the evening meal; soon after, all retired. Grandon drifted off to slumber with difficulty, still marveling at the swift events; it seemed that he had slept but a moment or two when a deafening din assailed his ears. All about him men were fighting, cursing, shouting, and groaning.

"What is up?" he asked the man nearest him.

"It's the Reabonians," replied the man, stanching the blood from a cut in his shoulder. "We are surrounded by the soldiers of the princess."

CHAPTER VI

THE INSTANT Grandon learned they were being attacked by Reabonians, he was on his feet directing the fighting. First at one point, then another, he momentarily filled a gap where a man had been cut down. The little circle of Traveks was narrowing swiftly. They fought bravely, but the odds were in favor of the Reabonians.

The battle cry of the attackers was "For Vernia, for Vernia!"

"For Grandon of Terra!" answered the Traveks, defiantly.

Suddenly a cry came from one of the leaders of the. Reabonians.

"Truce!"

Instantly the fighting ceased. Grandon's men lowered their weapons as the soldiers of Vernia withdrew a little way.

"Where is your captain?" shouted the Reabonian commander.

"Here," replied Grandon.

"I offer you the alternative of surrender or complete annihilation, Grandon of Terra," said the officer. "Two-thirds of your command lie bleeding on the ground. You can save the others from a like fate by laying down your arms."

"What say you, men?" asked Grandon, looking around.

"We are Fighting Traveks!"

A surge of pride swept over him. If there were only some way—he racked his brain for a feasible plan. Like a flash there came to his mind a vision of old football days. He lowered his voice and issued a few swift orders. The men formed a circle once more, and Grandon shouted defiance to the Reabonian commander.

The fighting had all taken place by the flickering light of the campfires. Each Travek, as he took up his position, pushed a quantity of loose moss before him with his feet. The soldiers of the princess were closing in on them when Grandon issued a sharp command. Simultaneously every fire was smothered under a heap of moss.

Another command, and the men had formed a flying wedge with Grandon at the apex. Straight through the circle of attackers they smashed in compact formation, cutting right and left. As they ran through the forest lanes they could hear the Reabonians fighting each other in the darkness.

When they had attained some little distance from the scene of battle the smoldering fire flared up once more, and they heard a shout of bated rage go up from the Torrogina's men.

Grandon had lain down to sleep with a command of sixty-five men. They numbered now but nineteen, and the lieutenant was missing. Grandon turned to the man nearest him. "Are there other bands of Fighting Traveks near by?"

"A number of them rove these woods, but as none tarry long in one place we might hope to find them only by accident. Bordeen, the great commander of all the bands, is encamped with three hundred men in a valley only twelve miles from here.

"Can you find the place to-night?"

"Unless we run into Reabonians."

"Then lead the way, and let us be off at once." They were halted by a sentry at some distance from the camp; at a sign from the guide, they were allowed to proceed without interruption.

The camp consisted of a half dozen circular huts similar to the one Grandon's men had constructed, surrounding a much larger hut which he took to be the headquarters of the commander. The guide led him straight to this structure and, before he realized it, he found himself in the presence of Bordeen.

There was no light within the inclosure except the flickering rays cast by the campfires surrounding the camp, and Grandon could only imperfectly discern the features of Bordeen and those who stood about him.

The guide saluted with drawn scarbo held pointing at an angle of forty-five degrees, and the Earthman did likewise.

"Mightiest of commanders," the Travek said, "if it is your pleasure, our new captain, Grandon of Terra, will make his report."

"A new captain!" exclaimed Bordeen. "This is indeed strange. Thelpo was a mighty fighter. Report, Grandon of Terra."

Grandon modestly described the duel that followed his chance meeting with the Fighting Traveks, how they had been surrounded by a large body of Reabon soldiers and all but annihilated. He expected a reprimand for losing two-thirds of his command, but Bordeen commended his generalship in effecting an escape when escape seemed hopeless.

His report concluded, he was conducted to the hut where his men were quartered, and was soon asleep on his mossy couch. The guide, however, remained by order of the commander, who asked: "What know you of this Grandon of Terra?"

"Nothing he has not told you for himself, other than that he is from a far-distant country which he calls Terra, and is a most extraordinary fighter with the scarbo as well as an exceedingly able commander. No doubt you noticed that he wore the color of royalty."

"Hardly. In this dim light I cannot tell scarlet from any other color. I fear my eyes are failing me. However, it seemed to me as he stood there, that there was something strangely familiar about him."

A man at Bordeen's right spoke up. "Was it not of Prince Thaddor that he reminded you?"

"Yes—now that you mention it, he did. Could it be that cruel treatment has changed our gentle prince into a fighting man? Bring me a flashlight. There is a mark on Prince Thaddor's foot that few know of, and it could not be simulated. Should it be he, we must dispatch runners to gather in all our scattered bands, for then a great feast will be in order."

The long-suppressed hope in Bordeen's heart was making him plan before examining the evidence. But when he and the others emerged from the sleeping Grandon's shelter, there was no doubt in anyone's mind.

Grandon's awakening on the following morning, was perhaps as much of a surprise as was the memorable morning when he first opened his eyes in the quarry-slaves' sleeping quarters.

The rude hut in which he slept had been draped with curtains of shimmering scarlet cloth, and the interior hung with wreaths, festoons and shields on which were emblazoned the coat of arms of the royal house of Uxpo. The men of his command, who had occupied the but with him, had been removed to other quarters, and he beheld two who introduced themselves respectively as his valet and his armorer.

At first he thought some joke was being perpetrated by the commander, but was assured that this was not the case. He permitted his hair to be cut after the prevailing fashion of Uxpo, but when his valet commenced to trim his beard, which was cut off square below the chin, in accordance with the custom of the land, he demurred and ordered a clean shave.

As the armorer buckled a broad belt about him, from which descended a tork embossed with silver, and a scarbo whose hilt was gold set with jewels, he said: "As it is your duty to supply me with weapons, I am going to ask you to procure a sword for me."

"I will procure it for your highness if it be humanly possible, but I have never heard of one. If I might have a description, perhaps…"

"Of course you have never heard of it. It is a weapon used on another planet. Have your metal workers fashion for me a weapon with a hilt like a scarbo, but with a long, straight, two-edged blade, slender and pliable, and of the strongest tempered steel."

The armorer bowed with hand extended palm downward, and backed through the doorway.

He had scarcely departed, ere Bordeen entered, followed by a concourse of Uxponian nobles and officers. All bowed low before Grandon in the customary salute to royalty.

Accepting their homage courteously, he permitted himself to be conducted to the head of a huge banquet table on which a sumptuous feast was spread, amid the ringing cheers of a thousand Fighting Traveks.

Bordeen made the formal speech of welcome, addressing Grandon as Prince Thaddor. Then the latter arose.

"Comrades," he began, "your mighty commander has just addressed me as Prince Thaddor. I have come among you to do the work of your prince, not to assume his name, for I am not Thaddor, nor is he any longer an inhabitant of this world. While he lives my life on the planet Earth—or Terra—it shall be my endeavor to lead you to victory. I therefore assume leadership of your armies, men of Uxpo, not as Prince Thaddor, but as Grandon of Terra."

This speech spread consternation in the ranks of the Fighting Traveks. As he resumed his seat there was no applause—only an ominous silence. Grandon resolved to tender his resignation, when Bordeen stood up, flushed with the fever of inspiration.

"My countrymen, a prophecy has been fulfilled. Some time ago I learned that a wise man, a prophet and seer from the distant land of Olba, was in this vicinity. In my extremity and worry I sought him out. This is what he told me:

"Go back to your people and tell them to be of good cheer, for your royal leader will soon be with you. He will be young and strong, and expert with the scarbo, but his first request will be for a weapon which he calls a sword. He will resemble a prince of Uxpo who will have, by that time, journeyed to another world. Reject him and you will see him no more. Accept him, and he will lead you to victory."

There was a brief instant of awed silence as Bordeen finished his discourse. Then, as if by a prearranged signal, a thousand scarbos flashed on high and a thousand voices thundered: "Long live Grandon of Terra, Prince of Uxpo!"

Ere the tumult had ceased, the armorer threaded his way through the crowd, holding before him a scarlet cushion on which reposed a weapon new and strange to all Zarovians. He deposited it before Grandon, just as the tumult was subsiding.

Grandon drew it from its scabbard and held it aloft, saying: "This is the sword of which your prophet spoke. I pledge it with my life to the cause of Uxpo."

Grandon, exalted as he was, found time to marvel at the clever planning of Vorn Vangal—or whatever agent of Dr. Morgan's had put across this prophecy. Then a courier dashed breathlessly into the hall.

"The Reabonians!" he gasped. "They are coming, a great army of them, led by the princess herself! We are hemmed in on three sides!"

By this time more runners were arriving from different directions, all with descriptions of a mighty army encircling the camp.

Grandon marshalled his men for a retreat toward the north—the only direction left open to them—urging the utmost speed; for to have those converging wings meet ahead of them meant almost certain defeat.

As it was, they were barely in time for a swift charge between them under a heavy fire of tork bullets which exacted a heavy toll from their ranks. They were still far from safety, however, for the Reabonians followed in swift pursuit.

Grandon held council with Bordeen and they decided to make for a narrow mountain pass nearly four miles distant, which led to a valley beyond.

After a running fight lasting more than two hours, they reached their objective with their numbers sadly depleted. They had reckoned, however, without the military genius of Princess Vernia; she had anticipated this move and filled the narrow pass with armed men.

The Uxpo troops were in a trap from which escape seemed utterly impossible. The pass was out of the question, for with even a small body of men defending it, it was practically invulnerable. On either side of the entrance rose sheer precipices, which even a monkey-man could not have scaled, while in front of them there was an army of between eight and nine thousand men.

Grandon kept to the front ranks, shouting encouragement to his men, and using his sword to such good advantage that at times the Reabonians fell away from him in sheer wonder at his prowess.

But the Traveks were fighting a hopeless battle; already their number was reduced to less than five hundred.

At this juncture a force intervened on which neither of the contestants had counted. Grandon's first inkling of what was to take place was the sight of a mass of black clouds, apparently hanging midway between the tree-tops and those fleecy, silver-gray mists which are ever present in the upper Zarovian atmosphere, and moving swiftly toward them.

He had expected a storm, but when it burst in all its fury he was ill-prepared for such a violent demonstration of the power of the elements. The first torrent of rain was followed by inky darkness, punctuated at intervals by brilliant flashes of lightning. The thunder roared incessantly, reverberating through the mountains, and fighting, either by sound or sight, was made exceedingly difficult.

It was Grandon's opportunity to save what remained of his little army, and he was not slow to take advantage of it. He called Bordeen to his side.

"Make haste and divide the command into small parties of not more than twenty men each," he said. "In the confusion of the storm, small bodies of men can escape with little or no fighting, whereas a charge by the entire company would be sure to be detected and opposed every foot of the way. Tonight each band must shift for itself; tomorrow we will reunite. The place of rendezvous will be the base of those great twin mountains which mark the northernmost end of this valley."

As Bordeen hastened away to carry out the plans, his commander once more took his place in the line of battle, forging steadily ahead.

It was some time before he discovered that his comrades were no longer with him. Then a particularly brilliant flash of lightning revealed the fact that he was completely surrounded by enemy soldiers. They saw his plight at the same instant, and rushed at him in the darkness that followed. Acting on a sudden thought, he turned swiftly about, and facing in an opposite direction, walked slowly backward.

The ruse worked, for the men behind him, believing him to be one of their comrades who was a little timid about approaching the great swordsman, surged around and ahead of him. When the last man had passed he turned once more, and ran for the forest.

What troubled him most was how to gauge his course through the dense, dripping labyrinth that engulfed him.

At this juncture he heard a noise as of a small body of men running ahead of him; he decided to follow them as swiftly and silently as possible, and make sure they were not Reabonians before divulging his presence.

As the minutes wore on, he could tell by the sounds ahead that he was gaining. Suddenly he emerged from the forest and found himself on a flat, sandy beach. A flash of lightning revealed the fact that he was not following a body of men, but a huge reptile, a gigantic amphibian with a monstrous lizardlike body to which was attached a serpentine head and neck of immense proportions. It was pursuing someone else with an agility little short of marvelous for so ponderous a body, and had almost come up with its quarry.

The victim, who appeared little more than a slender boy, was making frantic efforts to escape, but it appeared that his doom was inevitable.

Another lightning flash showed the reptile with neck arched and jaws distended, ready to strike. A cry of mortal terror came to him from the darkness. Grandon unsheathed his sword.

CHAPTER VII

IT WAS ONLY because there came a swift lull in the storm that Grandon was able to follow the monster to its subterranean cave. The big reptile crouched with its back toward him as he came upon it, its body half out of the water.

On the floor lay its victim, but the creature seemed to be in no hurry. It was nosing its prey, in the manner of a cat playing with a mouse. Presently, the victim sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Grandon raised the muzzle of his tork above the water, aimed for the swaying head, and touched the button. At the sound and impact, the creature turned—and Grandon was dealt a blow from behind that hurled him into the far corner of the cave.

The tork bullets were useless; he drew his sword as he dodged about in the cave to elude snapping jaws and that scaly tail which had floored him before. It seemed hopeless; his point glanced off the creature's scales as from armor plate.

Cornered, those jaws open to seize him, he lunged out wildly. The weapon was jerked from his hand, but no teeth closed upon him. Then he saw that he had driven big blade through the reptile's eye and deep into its brain. After a few shudders, it keeled over.

Bracing his foot against the massive head, he wrenched his sword free, and turned to face the youth who was approaching him. "Come," he said, "we must get out of here quickly." Another creature might appear, and Grandon didn't want to trust to luck again.

A dim light emanated from a point farther back. There was a small hole in the top of the bank, and Grandon widened it with his sword, enough to let them through.

Outside, the Earthman had a chance really to observe his companion, who was clad from head to foot in shining scarlet leather. The head and face were covered by a pointed hood of the same material; on impulse, Grandon reached forward and pulled back the concealing headpiece. That was when he gasped in wonder.

For a moment, the golden-haired girl thus revealed met his astonished gaze; then she regained her poise, with a look of regal hauteur. "Why did you do that?" she asked icily.

"Frankly, I do not know. If I have offended, I crave your pardon."

Some of the coldness departed, but she did not smile. "When let us be on our way," she said, adjusting the hood.

He turned and, together, they walked back among the lengthening shadows toward the river's edge. Owing to the recent cloudburst the current was abnormally swift, carrying the floating storm debris past them at express-train speed. There were great, uprooted trees, detached branches and leaves of various sizes and kinds, and a number of huge toadstools.

As they stood there on the brink the cap of a great orange-colored toadstool was caught in an eddy and whirled against the shore. The stem had been broken off completely, and it formed a water-tight basin about twelve feet in diameter. Grandon leaped forward and hauled it in.

"What are you going to do with that?" asked the girl.

"If I can cut a suitable paddle," replied Grandon, "I believe I can make it serve as a boat to convey us across the river, where I have reason to suspect your friends, as well as mine, are located."

He looked about until he found a strong branch that suited his purpose, then made a most serviceable paddle by using the limb for the handle and the base of the broad leaf for the blade.

"Come," said Grandon. "We must start quickly if we would gain the other shore before dark."

She stepped aboard, and Grandon pushed off, wading out to where the water was breast-deep before climbing up beside her in order to clear the eddy which might again carry the craft shoreward.

The Earthman had taken many canoe trips, but he had not considered the difference in shape between a canoe and the inverted cap of a Zarovian toadstool. Instead of making the headway he anticipated, he found himself merely going around in a circle.

It was some time before he found a way simultaneously to guide and propel his awkward craft, which he accomplished by standing on the side toward which he wished to go and scooping the water toward him. They laboriously reached midstream after about an hour's hard paddling, but in the interim the swift current had carried them many miles from their starting point. Then, to Grandon's consternation, the paddle broke.

"I guess we're in for it now," he said dejectedly. "Fool that I was to risk your life in this overgrown bowl."

"What of your own life?" she replied. "You are running no less risk than I."

As she spoke darkness descended, the black, moonless darkness of Venus. Grandon sat in moody silence, straining his eyes in his effort to penetrate the surrounding gloom, his ears on the alert for any sound which might indicate the presence of the dangerous reptilian creatures that inhabited the waters.

Presently a soft hand sought his, and clung there.

"What is it?" he asked hoarsely, endeavoring to still the quiver of emotion that suddenly took possession of his vocal cords.

"I am tired—oh, so tired. And yes, frightened. To think that I should be frightened!"

"Here," he said, stripping off his cloak and rolling it into a pillow. "I have been inexcusably thoughtless. Now lie with your head on this pillow, so, and try to get some sleep. I will keep watch."

He withdrew a little way and once more sat quietly with senses alert for the slightest sound or sign of hostile attack. It was some time before her regular breathing, scarcely audible above the sound of the rushing waters, told him that she slept.

Toward morning the noises made by the amphibians ceased, and Grandon grew drowsy. His head nodded forward on his breast. Suddenly their craft gave a terrific lurch that rolled the girl into his lap. It was only his clutching the gills of the toadstool with both hands that kept them from being pitched into the water.

"What was that?" asked the girl, breathlessly, awake in an instant.

Another lurch followed.

"Hold on and I will try to find out," he said.

Drawing his sword, he crept near the edge while the lurching continued. He clung to the rim with one hand and prodded the water about him with his sword, completely circling the craft without encountering anything other than the rushing waters. It was not until a dash of spray struck him in the face and he tasted salt that he realized the truth. They were on a body of salt water, possibly a large lake or an ocean. He made his way back to where the girl clung, and related his discovery.

"The river on which we were floating," she explained, "empties into the great Azpok Ocean, the ocean of mysteries, of man-eating monsters and of terrible storms that destroy the mightiest of ships as easily as the smallest boats. To navigate the ocean is to court death in many sudden and appalling forms."

An hour passed before morning dawned. In the meantime the roughness of the sea had abated a little, making it less difficult to keep their places. They were riding long, rolling swells that elevated and lowered their craft with very little lurching. There was no land in sight.

All through that long, sultry day and the following night they drifted, without sighting aught save birds and a few leaping fish. Just before dawn they were rudely startled by a violent tilting of their craft, followed by a roaring and swirling of the water about them. Grandon barely had time to seize the girl ere they were engulfed by a huge wave which capsized the craft and precipitated them into a seething maelstrom of black water.

Down—down, they went into the dark depths. The Earthman fought gamely, but as the minutes passed the violence of the waves increased and he felt his strength waning. He realized that, barring the intervention of some unforeseen aid, the battle against death would soon end in defeat.

With body numbed and hope gone, he suddenly felt the sandy beach below his feet. He staggered forward, dragging the girl with him, and was knocked flat by a mighty breaker. Crawling painfully onward, driving his flagging muscles by a supreme effort of will, he finally collapsed on the dry sand, just beyond reach of the waves.

When Grandon regained consciousness it was daylight. His first thought was for the girl who lay face downward beside him. As he lifted her tenderly in his arms he gave silent thanks, for she was breathing.

Presently she opened her eyes and, for a moment, there was a startled expression in them. "Where are we?" she asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea," replied Grandon. "I have no knowledge of Zarovian geography."

"A prince, and you know naught of geography? That is indeed strange. Do they not teach it in your country?"

"I am fairly well acquainted with the geography of the planet Earth—Terra—on which I was born, but we of that world know nothing of the geography of this one because of your cloud-filled atmosphere."

She looked up at him in amazement. "But you wear the garments and insignia of the royal house of Uxpo. Moreover, you very closely resemble a prince of that house. Who are you?"

"I am Robert Grandon, of Terra."

"Grandon, of Terra? Ah, I recall the name. A Grandon, of Terra, was recently acclaimed Prince of Uxpo. It was said that he came in fulfillment of a prophecy from another world. And you are he. Truly the pranks of fortune are most amazing! Yesterday I made war on you; today I look to you for protection."

"You made war on me? May I ask who you are?"

"Can it be that you do not recognize me? I am Vernia, of Reabon."

It all came to him in a flash. The lifelike painting in the shrine at the marble quarries. "How did you happen to be wandering alone and unarmed in the fern forest?"

"I did not set out alone. When I started away from the camp I was accompanied by my four guards, and was armed with a tork and scarbo. Zueppa sent a messenger from the front to inform me that your men had broken through our lines and were headed for the camp. He advised me to leave at once, saying that the guards would conduct me to a safe place until your army had been overcome. I followed Zueppa's counsel, but had gone only a short distance when the guards disarmed me, and informed me that I was their prisoner.

"They were about to bind my hands when the giant reptile appeared on the scene. Though traitors, they were brave men, for they stood their ground to do battle with the monster. He killed the foremost man with a single snap of his jaws. A second man met a like fate, and I believe he devoured all four of them—although I am not certain, as I turned and ran through the forest. When the storm came, I lost my bearings completely. I reached the river's edge where I fainted when I saw those terrible jaws poised above me. I presume that I should have been devoured then and there had the reptile not already eaten my guards."

"Who is Zueppa?"

"He is one of my officers—a good commander and strategist."

"He may be a good soldier, but he is unquestionably a liar. My men did not break through your lines at all until after the storm had struck, and then only in small, scattered groups."

"Then Zueppa was implicated in the plot. But who could have planned it, and for what purpose?"

"That, I am unable to tell you."

He looked at her so long and so searchingly that she grew uneasy. "Of what are you thinking?"

"I was wondering what fate you would have meted out to me had your men captured me yesterday."

She smiled. "I should probably have had you beheaded.

"And now if we reach Reabon in safety I shall make you supreme commander over all the armies."

"Why?"

"As your reward for saving my life."

"I ask no reward for that, nor could I accept it, much as I appreciate the honor."

"It is the second highest in the greatest nation of Zarovia, an office second only to my own. Why, any king on the globe would be glad to exchange his position for it."

"I have been made Prince of Uxpo," replied Grandon, "under my own name and because of my deeds in behalf of that kingdom. I should rather be the tiniest twinkling star in the heavens than the most beautiful and brilliant planet."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"Planets shine by reflected light-stars by virtue of their own brilliancy. As your general I should merely reflect the greatness that is yours."

"Perhaps you should prefer to continue the war."

"Infinitely. But pray, let us hold to our truce. Until we can reach the safety of our own countries we are allies, you know."

"Rather, I am your prisoner of war…We tally much and get nowhere," she said wearily. "I am both hungry and thirsty. Do you not feed your prisoners of war?"

They walked inland through barren country to the foot of a lofty perpendicular cliff. Through a narrow fissure they caught a glimpse of greenery beyond, so they hurried between the frowning rock walls and at last emerged on level ground.

They were on the border of a small inland lake, the water of which was as clear as crystal. Ferns, mosses and fungi grew all about its borders in luxurious profusion, but what aroused Grandon's interest and curiosity most was the appearance of the bottom of the lake, which was plainly visible.

It was covered with hundreds of odd, grotesque growths—upright fluted columns with thick branches of the same pattern curving upward from the trunks like the arms of candelabra. On the tips of the branches were great clusters of brilliantly-hued fruitlike globes in an endless variety of form and color. The effect of the entire lake bottom was like that of a thousand rainbows fused into one.

A look of terror came into the eyes of the girl.

"Now I know only too well where we are," she said. "This must be one of the submarine gardens of the terrible flying grampites. I have heard some of our hardiest mariners tell of these gardens and the horrible creatures who guard them."

"Let us eat and drink, first, then talk of the grampites afterward," said Grandon. "They may be dangerous creatures, but they will have to go some to outclass that reptile."

A clear, cold spring, bubbling from the rock wall satisfied their thirst, after which Grandon cut some spore-pods from a nearby fern and split them with his knife. They were in prime condition, and made a most pleasing meal for the famished wayfarers.

"It must be," Grandon remarked, "that these underwater fruits are especially delectable morsels, if men risk their lives for them."

"They are, and of a flavor that excels anything else that grows on Zarovia."

"I will gather some for you," said Grandon, removing his heavy trappings. "They should be easily plucked."

"No, no!" she cried. "Please don't go. You may be seen and killed by the grampites."

He laughed at her fears, and stripped down to his loincloth. Then, taking his long knife between his teeth, he plunged into the clear water. Swimming from cluster to cluster he found one that suited his fancy, and cut the thick stem.

As he did so, he saw a black shadow move swiftly across the surface of the lake above him. It puzzled him not a little, for he had seen no living creature other than his companion when he entered the water. He reached the surface with a few powerful strokes, and made for the point where he had left the girl, but the spot was deserted.

Vernia had disappeared as completely and mysteriously as if the earth had opened and swallowed her.

CHAPTER VIII

CURSING THE foolhardiness that led him to leave the girl unguarded, Grandon hurled the fatal cluster of fruit far out into the lake. He found his clothing and weapons intact and dressed rapidly. He had no sooner buckled on his sword and tork than a creature that surpassed in hideousness anything he had ever seen swooped down on him.

Elevating the muzzle of his tork, he sent a stream of bullets at his assailant, and had the satisfaction of seeing it fall to the ground, where it fluttered feebly for a moment, then lay still.

He examined it minutely and shuddered as he thought of the beautiful Vernia in the clutches of so loathsome a thing. The specimen he had brought down was about eight feet long from head to toe, and covered with a soft, mouse-colored fur.

Its head was shaped like that of a gorilla, but the ears were set high and were pointed like those of a fox. The nose was nothing more than a pair of flat, broad nostrils, set almost on a level with the eyes, and the mouth at the apex of the projecting muzzle resembled the mouth of a leech, being merely a round, puckered hole, whose sucker lips were furnished with tiny, razor-sharp protuberances.

The arms were fully as long as the body, and formed the framework for the membranous wings, the web of which stretched to the center of the back above and the rear of the legs below, ending just above the heels. The trunk and lower limbs were shaped much like those of a man, the feet being most manlike in form, except that the five toes on each foot were armed with strong, up-curling claws.

Drawing his knife, he bent to cut the furry throat. Then something landed on his back with considerable force, two long, bony arms wound tightly about him, and he felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck as a sucker mouth gripped and lacerated his flesh.

He could not, in this position, use his sword or tork, but he gripped his knife firmly and plunged it again and again into the thing on his back, though with no apparent effect, for it hung on like the fabled old man of the sea. At last he found a vital spot, and the iron grip of the arms relaxed. As the creature fell away from him the lips tore loose with a pop like that of a champagne cork.

For a moment he imagined the attack was over, but five of the monsters now came hurtling at him from all directions. He fired his tork as they approached, and one fell in the lake, where it floated, looking at a distance much like an old, broken umbrella. The foremost grampite did not alight on him as the other had done; it swooped straight toward him, head on, then rose slightly and raked him with its sharp upcurved claws.

His shoulder was bleeding profusely from the onslaught when the second attacker arrived, but this time Grandon was prepared. Leaping lightly to one side he plunged his sword into the furry body. The last two, wheeled and joined the leader, now circling high above Grandon. Evidently they decided to go for reenforcements, for they turned suddenly and flew straight across the lake in the direction from which they had come.

Grandon marked their course, and noted that they flew straight toward a distant mountain peak from which a wisp of smoke lazily ascended. If Vernia had been carried off by grampites, this was the direction in which they must have taken her.

He walked around the rim of the lake, cut through the surrounding tree ferns and emerged on a broad, rolling plain that was covered with a carpet of resilient moss. Several hours were consumed in crossing the plain, then he came to another fern forest.

A short walk brought him abruptly to the edge of a small, crystalline lake, similar to the one he had just left. Instantly he leaped back in the shadow of the trees, for the place was literally alive with grampites. They were apparently engaged in harvesting the underwater fruit, and he watched the process with interest.

Skirting the lake with great care, he again pressed forward toward his smoking guide post. He dodged and circled several more grampite-infested lakes. Then he came to a chain of low-lying, rocky hills that were without vegetation of any kind.

As he clambered over the jagged rocks, he noted a pungent odor in the air like that of sulphur, or perhaps some sulphurous compound. The atmosphere grew warmer and warmer until the heat was almost unbearable, and the acrid odor stung his nostrils and smarted his lungs. The rocks over which he scrambled now took on a uniform greenish-yellow hue.

Several times Grandon had wondered why these flying monsters had not been exterminated by the soldiers of the princess. He learned the reason as he brought up at the edge of a body of boiling water more than half a mile in width, and stretching in a broad, sweeping curve to his right and left. From this caldron rose greenish-yellow vapor, which would have asphyxiated anyone attempting to cross in a boat.

The huge mountain was in plain view now, its peak less than a mile away. Myriads of grampites swarmed about the summit.

Some of the incoming messengers were laden with fruit, others with the bodies of animals; and one, which flew over Grandon's head, carried the limp form of a sailor, its talons hooked through his belt. Grandon aimed his tork and was about to press the button, when the thought came that perhaps the man still lived, and a shot would precipitate both victim and captor into the bubbling, hissing sulphur lake.

As it was evident that he could not possibly cross the fuming barrier before him, he decided to follow the margin in the hope that he might find some means of ingress. Accordingly, he turned to the right, keeping just out of reach of the deadly vapors, and traveled as swiftly as the rugged character of the rocky formation would permit.

He had covered a distance of more than six miles before he brought up at the point from which he had started. The mountain was completely surrounded by boiling, fuming sulphurous water!

Disheartened by his discovery, and at the point of exhaustion, Grandon sat down on a boulder to plan his next move. Obviously he could not hope to rescue the girl now. No doubt she was already dead, or would be, soon.

No, he could not save her, but he would die avenging her.

As he rose to carry out his purpose, his attention was attracted by an airship, similar in shape to Vorn Vangal's, but considerably larger, flying low over the rocky hills. While he watched, it made a landing less than a quarter of a mile from him, and two men stepped from the cab. Without a moment's hesitation, Grandon ran toward them.

One of the men raised a cylindrical object to his eyes, evidently a telescope, and pointed it toward the mountain. He gazed for some time, then handed it to his companion. Both were so engrossed by the strange sight before them that they did not see two menacing forms swooping down on them from behind.

Grandon saw, and shouted a warning, but too late. The curved talons hooked their quarry with unerring precision, and both men were carried struggling, out over the boiling water.

The man with the telescope turned and beat his assailant with the instrument, gripping the furry belly with one hand as he swung his weapon with the other. Apparently he succeeded in breaking a wing, for captor and captive plunged to death a moment later. The other Olban, still struggling, was carried out of sight.

Saddened and infuriated, Grandon walked to the airship just as he reached the side of the craft, darkness descended.

Grandon groped his way to the Olban airship in the pitchy darkness. While it was yet light, he had noticed that the side door of the domelike cab stood open. A brilliant flash from the volcano, reflected by the clouds, the boiling water, and the crystal dome, showed him his objective. He entered the cab and closed the door.

Moving his hands carefully about the interior, he felt two cushioned seats and a number of handles, levers and buttons. At random, he pressed a small button, whereupon a tiny light cast its radiance down on him from the top of the dome.

For a moment he was bewildered by the imposing array of levers, handles and buttons. Then, to his delight, he saw that each was marked in the simple phonetic characters of the universal language which had been taught him by Vorn Vangal.

He seized a lever marked "Cab Control" and moved it to the left. Immediately the cab revolved to the right, sliding smoothly and noiselessly. He pressed downward on the lever and the cab slanted backward. Being in the form of a perfect sphere it could not only be turned from side to side, but could be tilted forward or backward in its socket. Upon his straightening the lever, the cab resumed its original position.

The advantage of such an arrangement was obvious. From the front of the craft, to right and left, projected two guns labeled "Mattork." The mattorks were weapons similar in construction to torks, but much larger, and firing projectiles of far heavier caliber. Another projected through the keel. By a touch of the cab control lever these mattorks could be trained on an enemy in any position.

Grandon loaded one mattork with explosive metal bullets and the other with deadly glass bullets; the keel-mattork was already loaded with explosive metal bullets. What a battle he would give the accursed grampites in the morning!

Constant thoughts of Vernia dominated his mind. His reason told him that she must be dead, but despite this, hope persisted.

As he hoped, he wished intensely—earnestly. Then suddenly his wish bore fruit, for the airship began slowly to rise from the ground.

He had once listened, with scant attention, to a lecture by a noted para-psychologist. He recalled dimly the assertion that every living human being is endowed at birth with all the power of telekinesis after a fashion, but needed practice to develop and perfect it. Before making for the mountain he sailed about in the air for a considerable time, practicing the turning, elevating, and lowering of his craft by purely mental control. At length, feeling that he was master of the airship, he made for the mountain peak.

Very cautiously he made a landing on the outer rim of the crater, then crept to the top to reconnoiter. As he peered over the brink, it was as if the most terrible dreams of Milton and Dante had been fused into one to form the fearful reality before him. There in the blood-red glow of the molten lava swarmed thousands of the demoniac inhabitants of this planetary inferno, croaking hoarsely to each other as they moved about on the ledges or fluttered from place to place. Mingled in the bedlam of sounds that came up to him, were the bleating and cries of countless animals in the pits.

Directly beneath him, a huge grampite emerged from a cave and heaved a human body far out into the fiery lake. Grandon recognized the uniform of the Olban officer who had been captured at the side of the airship, a few hours before.

Grandon walked stealthily around the edge of the pit, hoping to find some path by which he might make his way, unnoticed, to the ledges beneath. He had gone perhaps a third of the way around the mountain top when he heard a scream of terror. It was the voice of Vernia.

Startled to instant action, Grandon scrambled and slid precipitately down to the top ledge, leaped the ten feet to the second and a like distance to the third, and ran directly to the pit from which the sounds emanated. Twelve feet down he saw Vernia struggling with her captor, while two terrified little animals hugged the wall. In an instant he was at her side. A stroke of his blade severed the arm that gripped her; another sent the head of the monster rolling.

"Come," he said, "we must get out of here at once."

"But how?" she asked. "The walls are as smooth as glass. I'm afraid escape from this pit is impossible. If we could fly…"

Her words were cut short by an onslaught from above. Grandon had been seen and a general alarm had been sounded.

With his back to the wall and the girl crouching at his side, Grandon fought desperately with sword and knife. The pile of carcasses before him grew breast high before he realized that they were likely to be smothered beneath them. Calling to the girl to follow, he leaped atop the pile, and fought from that position. After that he constantly shifted from side to side, while the pit continued to fill with slain assailants, who came on in increasing numbers.

Torn and bleeding from many wounds, he at length stood with head and shoulders above the edge of the pit. This left him open to attack from the rear, and forced him to adopt new tactics. Bringing his tork into play, he sent a spray of bullets about him in a circle, temporarily demoralizing the attackers. The slight respite gave him time to assist Vernia from the pit, and together they ran into the cave.

They found a narrow passageway at the back of the cave, and groped their way in the blackness for some distance before they came to another narrow gallery crossing it at right angles. Soon they were in a veritable labyrinth of caves and galleries, leading farther into the mountain.

They had wandered for more than an hour in the subterranean maze when a narrow-lighted opening appeared ahead. Very cautiously Grandon led the way toward this opening, hoping it would offer an avenue of escape. When they were within a short distance of it, he went ahead alone to reconnoiter. A moment later he returned, enjoining the utmost silence to his companion, and together they tiptoed forward.

They were at the rear door of a cave similar to the one through which they had entered the mountain, but considerably larger. Within was a grampite family in repose. There were twelve individuals in the family group, the huge male, his mate, six tiny specimens on which the down had just begun to appear, and four about half grown, all hanging upside down by their sharp, curved toenails, which were hooked in crevices in the wall. The father of the family hung near the cave mouth, the mother depended from one side with the six members of her latest litter beside her, and the half grown offsprings occupied positions on the opposite wall.

"Come," he whispered. "I believe we can get out without disturbing them. If they waken I will use the tork."

Very quietly, they made their way toward the cave mouth. When they reached the center of the floor the male grampite stirred uneasily, and Grandon held his weapon in readiness, but the creature merely stretched one wing a bit, then folded it and resumed his slumber. A moment later they stood on the topmost ledge with fifteen feet of steep crater wall to negotiate before they could reach the rim.

They succeeded in clambering to the top, unobserved, and to his inestimable relief, Grandon sighted the glistening dome of the Olban airship only a hundred yards from where they emerged.

Vernia's eyes were wide with amazement as he opened the door of the cab and seated her on the cushions. "An Olban airship!" she gasped. "Where did you get it? Why, I thought only trained Olban officers could run them."

While she spoke, they were mounting high in the air. She turned and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Grandon of Terra, have you deceived me? Are you of Olba?"

He related how he had acquired the airship, and she shuddered as he told of the death of the two officers who had brought it thither.

"As for deceiving you, my princess," he concluded, "I should sooner tear out my right eye."

She laid her hand gently on his arm. "It makes me very happy to hear you say that."

He thrilled at her touch and words, but did not turn his head. The craft was now poised far above the glowing crater.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to teach those devils a lesson," he replied. "The ship of the two men they murdered will now wreak vengeance on them."

They descended swiftly until the airship was on a level with the topmost ledge. Grandon pulled the cab control lever, until both mattorks were trained over the side, then circled the crater and poured a deadly fusillade among the bewildered grampites. Soon the air was black with the creatures, dozens of whom attacked the craft, but without success. A number of them swarmed on the deck and endeavored to get at the inmates of the cab.

"Give me your tork," said Vernia.

He unbuckled his belt and handed her the weapon. She opened the door a little way and soon cleared the deck of enemies. Then, while Grandon raked ledge after ledge, she shot down those of the flying attackers who came within range. Most of them fell into the fiery lake, and soon the air was filled with the stench of scorched flesh and hair.

For more than an hour they circled the crater, at the end of which time not a living grampite was in sight. The ledges were strewn with carcasses, and the lake of lava was sending up black clouds of smoke as it consumed those brought down by the tork. Grandon estimated that at least two-thirds of the population of that crater had been exterminated; the others had been driven to cover.

The avenging craft again rose high above the mountain.

"Now to return you to Reabon," said Grandon. "Can you tell me which way it lies from here?"

"As I recall it, this place lies across the Azpok Ocean, directly south of Reabon. If you will steer due north, we should be able to arrive on ground that will be familiar to me, and we can then easily make our way to the capital."

Grandon examined the Olban compass, which hung suspended by a tiny wire in the front of the cab. "I presume that, as in my own world, the compass always points toward the north."

"It should," replied Vernia, "unless deflected by some counter magnetic attraction."

Grandon set his course accordingly, traveling swiftly at a height of approximately two thousand feet.

The ship was amply stored with provisions and water, and they ate their first food in nearly twenty-four hours while hurtling through space at a terrific rate of speed.

"Try to go to sleep now," said Grandon. "In a few hours you will be safely home, and I will return to my faithful mountaineers. Then we can continue our war."

"What if I should not choose to move against Uxpo?"

"You would save the useless waste of thousands of human lives, and therefore place me eternally in your debt."

"You have already put me under an obligation to you for which my entire empire would not be sufficient recompense. Since you will not accept the second highest office in Zarovia, I have decided to free Uxpo. We shall be neighbors and, I hope, friends."

"In the name of the people of Uxpo I thank you for your generous decision, and…"

He was interrupted by a series of rude shocks and a rending crash as they came to a complete standstill. Both were thrown violently against the front of the cab. Grandon struck his head on the butt of a mattork and lost consciousness. Vernia was more fortunate, as she fell feet foremost, although her ankle received a bad wrench.

When she saw Grandon's face, pale as death, and the blood flowing from an ugly cut on his forehead, she flung herself down beside him and took his head on her lap. To her relief, she heard the beating of his heart when she placed her ear to his breast. Opening one of the provision drawers, she extracted a flask of water and bathed his face.

Presently he opened his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked. "What struck us?"

"I do not know," she replied. "Lie quietly while I dress your wound. Then we will investigate."

CHAPTER IX

GRANDON PROTESTED that the jagged wound in his forehead was a mere scratch, but Vernia insisted on binding it for him, and did so with adroitness.

When she had finished, he rose dizzily and opened the door of the cab. A pungent odor assailed their nostrils, an odor similar to that produced by pouring sulphuric acid on copper.

He switched on the forward searchlight, which revealed the shattered front of their craft jammed against an enormous tree-trunk. The keel rested in a forked branch, which kept them from falling. A thin column of vapor curled upward from the shattered hull, emitting the stifling odor that had greeted them when he opened the door.

"I guess we are done with flying," said Grandon, eyeing the wreck askance. "At least, we will fly no more with this airship."

"Is it so badly broken?"

"The power mechanism is destroyed. An Olban once told me that a phial of acid was placed within each mechanism in such a fashion that it would instantly destroy it if tampered with. Evidently the shock of our encounter with the tree trunk broke the phial, for the fumes are unmistakably those of acid on metal."

Grandon flashed the searchlight about them in an effort to ascertain where they were, but above, below and around them on every side they could see only branches and leaves. And such leaves! They were spatulate in shape, and a dark glossy green in color, varying between fifteen and twenty feet in length, while the stems were from eight to twelve inches thick. Each twig would have made a good sized fern tree, while the trunk against which their craft had jammed was a full fifty feet in thickness.

"Not much use to do any exploring before morning, I guess," said Grandon. "This is a giant of a tree. In what part of Reabon do these trees grow, and what do you call them?"

"There are no trees like this in Reabon," replied Vernia, "nor was I aware that there were such trees anywhere on Zarovia. Are you positive that we have been traveling due north?"

Grandon glanced at the compass. "Strange," he said. "Just a moment before we struck, the needle pointed in the direction in which we were traveling. Now it points at right angles to the keel. Something must have been broken by the grampites. I'm afraid well have to wait until the sun rises to get our bearings."

"We can at least be positive of two things. That we are not in Reabon, and that we are in some unexplored part of Zarovia."

At dawn, Grandon made his way down the tree trunk, clinging to the rough, curling bark with fingers and toes. It was a long, perilous descent, a matter of at least a thousand feet, and he guessed half an hour must have elapsed before he stood on the ground.

The forest giant under which he stood was more than a hundred feet in diameter at the base. All about him, as far as he could see, were many more like it. He noticed that all of the trees were connected by broad surface roots, and this fact, together with the total absence of spores or seeds, apprised him of the reason why these trees were, in all probability, confined to a single locality.

They must have begun and evolved on this part of the planet without developing other means of propagation than that of sending out surface roots to form new plants at some distance from the parent trees. Consequently their spread would be regulated, not only by the number of new trees they could produce in this manner, but by the character of the surrounding country as well, for any barrier such as a body of water or a stretch of barren, rocky land would effectually check their progress.

Marking his trail by slashing trees or surface roots with his knife as he passed along, Grandon started his journey of exploration. He felt like a pygmy, as he walked beneath those mighty spires of wood, treading matted, molding leaves that were nearly as long as the airship, and climbing over surface roots so thick that often he could not see over them. After he had traveled thus for more than half an hour he saw a number of tall, conical mounds ahead of him, and judged from the regularity of their construction, that they housed human beings. As he approached more closely he observed that they were all dotted here and there with round holes about four feet in diameter.

He arrived within fifty feet of the nearest mound without noting any signs of animate life, and, concluding that it must be deserted, stepped boldly forward. Then, without the slightest hint of warning, something darted out suddenly and ran toward him on its six horny legs with incredible swiftness.

The creature was about the size of a small Shetland pony, with eyes as big as dinner plates set in a head more than two feet across and surmounted by two long, jointed antennae, its jaws armed with sharp mandibles and a pair of forceps large enough to encircle two men. The entire body was covered with glistening ivory-white armor. It came at him with forceps outspread.

In a moment, Grandon found that his tork had no effect; a moment later, he found his sword equally useless. The forceps encircled him, and he was dragged into the dark hole.

Vernia stepped out of the airship and climbed the projecting bark of the tree; it had been over two hours since Grandon left, and she was worried. From a height of several hundred feet above the airship, she peered through the thick curtain of leaves and saw that this tree stood in a narrow valley. The encircling mountains were bare, but the valley itself was filled with giant trees.

She looked down to see a white, six-legged monster scuttling up the trunk, carrying a smaller, bright green creature in its forceps. It turned out on a limb just below her, to deposit its burden on one of the large leaves.

The green thing had six legs, but its plump body was oval-shaped, with the head set at the narrow end and two sharp horns protruding just above the posterior extremity. As soon as it was put down, it uncoiled a long, slender sucking tube which it inserted in the leaf.

Vernia was both mystified and frightened. She flattened out on the limb, and peered cautiously over the edge.

To her infinite terror she saw many more mounting the tree and depositing their burdens here and there until it literally swarmed with the white things and their green charges. Glancing across to the next tree, she saw that it was similarly infested, and shuddered at the thought that the monsters might soon climb to where she was concealed.

Then, she saw a number of naked, hairy men ascending the tree. Each man carried a sack slung over his shoulder and fastened in place by a strap. She noticed that there appeared to be no animosity between the men and the monsters, and concluded that the great antlike creatures must have been domesticated by these cavemen.

Her supposition was strengthened by the sight of one of the men obtaining a white, sticky substance from one of the green things, with the aid of a white one, which titillated the posterior horns of its smaller green charge, causing it to exude the material into the sack which the man carried. All the other men were engaged in the same task, going from leaf to leaf until their sacks were filled, then carrying them down the tree.

A man who moved more slowly than his fellows was nipped sharply by one of the white creatures. He gave a cry of pain and hurried his steps. Then it dawned on her that the men were the slaves and the monsters their masters!

She was reflecting on this paradox when one of the white things, which had mounted on the opposite side of the tree unobserved by her, took a notion to carry its green charge out on the limb she occupied. She rose hurriedly and ran toward the swaying tip, but the creature deposited its burden on a leaf and darted after her with amazing speed. She had only gone a few steps when the powerful forceps encircled her.

Her captor appeared able to travel on the rough tree trunk upside down or right side up with equal facility, and carried her down to the ground at a terrific rate of speed. When it reached the ground it made off under the giant trees, climbing over the thick surface roots with great ease, and at length brought up at the entrance of a conical dwelling about a hundred feet in height.

It paused there for a moment, touched its antennae to those of a similar creature which appeared to be guarding the doorway, then carried her through a maze of dark runways to a dimly-lighted underground chamber. It laid her on the floor at the feet of an individual, apparently of the same species. This new monster had a white body and similar brown forceps and mandibles, and, in addition, a large pair of transparent wings. Its abdomen was distended to more than ten times the size of that of her captor.

Vernia rose to her feet and faced the thing before her, expecting to be seized and devoured. It looked at her searchingly for a moment, then vibrated its antennae noiselessly. Another white creature, similar to her captor in shape, but smaller, and lacking the huge forceps, appeared as if in answer to a summons.

Each vibrated its antennae in turn, then the newcomer pushed Vernia toward one of the runways. She could not mistake the meaning of this movement. Stooping to avoid the low ceiling, she entered and walked forward in the darkness. When she had traveled a short distance her conductor pushed her into a cross-runway that ended in a large, round chamber with a domelike roof.

This room was lighted by a great central opening, and contained more than a hundred girls and women, who were busily engaged in separating round white balls about an inch in diameter, which cohered in glutinous masses, and placing them in small holes that honeycombed the walls on all sides.

Her guide turned her over to a woman who seemed to be a sort of superintendent or overseer, and departed.

The woman looked at her curiously and, to her surprise, addressed her in patoa. "Who are you, girl, and how came you here!"

"I am Vernia of Reabon, and was just now captured by one of those fierce white creatures with the huge forceps."

"You were captured by a soldier sabit, but it is evident that you are from some distant part of the world, for here people do not go about wrapped in brightly colored skins, such as you wear."

Judging from those representatives of the human race which she had seen so far in the valley, Vernia could well believe this statement, for neither the men she had seen in the tree nor the women who now surrounded her were clothed. The women, like the men, were quite hairy they were also big-boned, low-browed and coarse-featured.

"I presume my country is far from here," Vernia said, "for I have never heard either of trees or creatures such as you have in this locality, although I know all that is known by our people about Zarovian geography. I have not the slightest idea where I am."

"You are in the Valley of the Sabits, which is in the center of the great salt marshes where any people live. When but a young girl I was captured by a slaving party and brought hither, even as you were captured and brought just now, to spend the rest of your life serving the masters of men. Enough of this talk for the present. There are no idlers here, and you must work with the others. Here, Rotha," calling a young girl who toiled near by, "a new slave who calls herself Vernia of Reabon. Acquaint her with the nature of our work."

The girl flashed a friendly smile at Vernia, and showed her how to separate the white balls, which she explained were sabit eggs, and stow them in their cells. She was much better-looking than those around her, appearing more like the women of the civilized races.

Vernia shuddered at the feel of the sticky, plasmic mass of eggs that was handed her, but nevertheless went to work with a will, and soon became nearly as adept as those about her.

Rotha was communicative, and talked incessantly as she worked. She had been born in captivity, so knew of the ways of her ancestors, the marsh people, only through the lips of others. She was, however, the granddaughter of a soldier of Mernerum who had married a marsh woman, which accounted for her superior intelligence and beauty.

The sabits, she said, were divided into many communities, and the inhabitants of any given community might be recognized by their markings. Those of their own community were known by their brown forceps and mandibles, there were others with black forceps and mandibles, others with green, red, et cetera. The largest and greatest community of all was that of the sabits who were pure white.

In each community there were four kinds of individuals. The greatest and most powerful was the single queen sabit, or female ruler, who had ordered Vernia sent hither. She was winged, and, when fertile, swelled to many times the size of the others.

Next to her in importance was the king sabit, her mate. He was the only male permitted to live in the community, and was winged like the queen, but much smaller. The other two kinds were known as the workers and soldiers. The former were comparatively diminutive in size and inefficient in battle, while the soldier sabits were large, powerful, and armed with huge forceps. Both workers and soldiers were wingless and sexless.

The queen sabit did little else than eat, sleep and lay thousands of these white, sticky eggs. Her mate was active in administering the affairs of the community, subject always to her approval and consent.

"But why is it," asked Vernia, "that these men submit to the domination of creatures of a lower order? Why, my soldiers kill and drive off creatures a thousand times more terrible than these."

"They may be more terrible physically," said Rotha, "but mentally the sabits are superior to all other beasts. True, they all think in the same way, along the same lines, and all the sabits will react to any situation in the same way, but this only makes them the more formidable, for they thus act in perfect unison in case of emergencies. A sabit community may be likened to a single animal, with the queen as the head, directing all operations, the king as the eyes looking here and there and everywhere to see that the directions are properly carried out, and the soldiers and workers, as the arms and legs, supplying every want of the body and protecting it from all dangers."

"But, even so, may not men, with torks, scarbos, spears and knives, slay them as easily as they do the great beasts?

"I know nothing of the weapons you call torks, nor have I ever heard that the marsh people use them. Spears, scarbos, knives and clubs they have, but these avail them little against the armored sabits. I have heard that a very powerful man may subdue a sabit by striking him between the eyes with a heavy club, but this is a most difficult feat, as they move with exceeding swiftness, and blows on any other spot are to no effect. It is said that these creatures have three brains, one in the head, one in the thorax and one in the abdomen, so that even if one is destroyed the other two may function for days afterward."

"Then, in order to kill one sabit a warrior must virtually kill three! But tell me now of yourself, and of the marsh people."

"About myself…" Rotha began, then checked her speech to stare at an approaching procession of worker sabits. "It is time for eating."

The sabits carried pouches from which they distributed a sticky mixture composed of a white, mucilaginous substance in which small edible fungi had been stirred. The girls and women instantly ceased work at their approach, and eagerly devoured their portions of the proffered food. Although Vernia was exceedingly hungry, she could not bring herself to touch the sticky mess, but divided it among those about her.

When they had finished, Rotha said: "I must leave you now, Vernia of Reabon, for tonight is my mating night, and there comes the soldier sabit who will take me away. Tomorrow night I will be with you, and from then on for some time, but for a full day and a night I will be absent."

"What mean you by the mating night, and why, if you are to be mated, will you be absent for but one night?"

Botha sighed. "It is the custom here," she replied. "In this valley men and women who are mated do not live together as in the outer world, nor have they even the privilege of choosing their own mates."

"You mean that they are mated against their wishes?"

"In this valley it is useless to wish. There is no law but the will of our masters, and it is their purpose to produce a stronger and more beautiful race of slaves. Having just come of age, I have been selected to do my part."

"But you know naught of love here? Do you willingly submit to the treatment usually accorded domestic animals?"

"Speak not of love, Vernia of Reabon, for Oro the Mighty is large and strong and beautiful—oh, so beautiful, my Vernia—and excels the others in all things. But I know it will not—it cannot be Oro, as the king sabit will not choose him for the mating pens. A slight blemish, a birthmark on his left shoulder, disqualifies him. Because of his great strength, however, he has been chosen chief keeper, or guard, of the pens, to maintain peace among the others and see that things are conducted in an orderly fashion. Oro, my beloved, will perhaps be the one to receive me at the gate, the one to take me to that awful room; but even he, with all his mighty strength, will be unable to save me."

CHAPTER X

GRANDON FOUGHT unavailingly with his sword as he was dragged into the dark burrow. He found a crevice in the armor of his captor, whereupon it stopped and shook him until his head reeled and the weapon dropped from his hand. Then the sabit carried him to the great central room, in which were the king and queen sabits of the white community.

As soon as he was dropped to the floor, the king sabit leaped on him and, cutting his belt with sharp mandibles, removed his tork and knife. Grandon sat up weakly.

After looking at him fixedly for some time the queen sabit summoned two workers by vibrating her antennae, and he was conducted through a series of runways and tunnels to a great, light chamber, where hundreds of naked, hairy men were engaged in the task of receiving sacks filled with a sticky white mixture from green who brought them to the doorway. They then fed the contents to thousands of fat, white, grublike creatures that varied in size from two to eight feet in length. He saw one of the larger grubs near him bite a mouthful of flesh from the shoulder of its tender; a little farther away two men held a huge grub while a third endeavored to reach its swaying head with a sackful of sticky food.

His conductors piloted him among the swaying wriggling grubs and scurrying men to where a single individual taller than his fellows stood with folded arms, apparently supervising the work. One of the sabits vibrated its antennae, this time creating a series of musical tones. The man turned, replied with three musical notes, and took Grandon by the arm, whereupon the two sabits left him.

"A new slave, eh?" he said gruffly. "Don't stand there staring like a stupid ptang. You have eyes to see the nature of the task before you. Begin it quickly, before you have painful cause to regret your slowness."

Grandon coolly surveyed the great brute before him. His low forehead was crossed by a livid scar just above the beetling brows, from beneath which his small, beady eyes glared. His right ear had been completely torn away, and with it a portion of the surrounding scalp.

"I have eyes to see and ears to hear that which pleases me not," Grandon replied. "You accuse me of the stupidity of a ptang, but I must needs have the stupidity of a thousand ptangs to obey this thing miscalled a man which stands before me."

The overseer's thick lips drew back; with lightninglike quickness he directed a blow at Grandon's head. By ducking swiftly the Earthman avoided the full force of the blow which, glancing though it was, sent him reeling to the floor a full twenty feet away.

"You would insult Od, would you?" the overseer snarled. "You would refuse to feed the fantas. Miserable, misbegotten offspring of misguided parents, then shall your torn body feed them, and that speedily."

He sprang and lifted his heavy foot for a kick; Grandon executed a quick scissors movement with his legs, and his assailant fell sprawling.

Both men leaped to their feet in an instant. As they faced each other, the slaves abandoned their wriggling fanta charges and formed an excited ring about the pair. The giant Od was first annoyed, then amazed, at his inability to strike his opponent, while blows rained incessantly against his unguarded chin and solar plexus. At length, he abandoned all thought of striking his elusive antagonist and leaped forward to clutch him.

It was the opening for which Grandon had been waiting. Stepping lightly to one side, he planted a terrific blow behind the ragged ear. Od reeled blindly for a moment then fell prone, where he lay limp and still.

A shout of approval went up from the group of spectators; then a cry from a man near the door checked their cheering. "To your tasks, quickly! The sabits are coming!"

They scattered, and when four soldier sabits arrived all but Grandon and Od were busily tending their fractious charges. The sabits spied Grandon, standing with heaving breast beside his prostrate foe, and ran quickly to where he stood. One of them looked inquiringly at him, and vibrated its antennae, producing a confusing series of tones. When it received no reply it brought a slave from near by and repeated the vibrations. The slave replied, using his voice to produce various tones, and Grandon judged from his gestures that he was describing the combat.

Immediately one of the sabits made for the door, and shortly returned with the winged king. Then there was a further vibratory conversation, this time among the sabits. Grandon noticed that when they communicated with each other the vibrations were noiseless.

Momentarily expecting to be punished, Grandon was amazed when the four soldier sabits suddenly leaped to the prostrate man and tore him to pieces. These pieces were distributed among the nearby grubs.

Then the king sabit again vibrated his antennae, this time producing musical tones, and the slave translated for Grandon. "By order of the king sabit you are to assume immediately the duties of the man you just defeated; by vanquishing Od, greatest of all of us in the community, you have demonstrated your eligibility for the office."

"But I know nothing of these duties," remonstrated Grandon.

"It does not matter. The men know what is to be done. You are simply to maintain order and see that there is no idling. A soldier sabit will remain with you for a few days to teach you the tone-language so that thereafter you may receive your orders direct from the sabits."

The working day of the sabits and their slaves began at dawn and continued until darkness. The slaves were fed twice daily, once upon rising and once when the day's work was completed. The diet was always the same—a mixture of the sweet, sticky stuff and edible fungi.

With the coming of darkness all members of the community were herded within the conical clay houses and the burrows which connected them. A sleeping room with bare dirt floors was set aside for the men and carefully guarded by soldier sabits. A separate dormitory for the women and children was similarly guarded. Men and women were not allowed to mingle during the day, and though they might see each other from a distance seldom had opportunities even for conversation.

Grandon watched carefully for an opportunity to escape and return to Vernia, but it seemed that his every movement was anticipated by the watchful sabits. He learned the tone-language readily, and after several weeks had elapsed, became fairly familiar with his surroundings and the mode of life of the strange creatures who had captured him. His instructor told him how the fantas were hatched from the eggs laid by the roga. They were tended and fed by women and girls until they reached a size that made it necessary for the men to take charge of them. When they had grown larger than adults, they were taken to a dark room deep under the ground, where they spun great, tough cocoons that completely surrounded them, and lay dormant in these, finally emerging as full-fledged adult sabits.

Many days passed before Grandon was even permitted out of doors. Then, one morning, he was placed in charge of a crew of food carriers, and the white soldier sabits, taking their "cattle," the green creatures, to their leafy pastures, led the way directly to the tree in which the airship was jammed.

Grandon had mounted to gather the sweet torlage. After a tedious climb he saw the craft directly above him. Slaves, sabits and the green "cattle" swarmed all about it without paying it the slightest attention.

Grandon moved cautiously toward the forked limb on which it rested, and peered within the cab. It was empty, and apparently open; he selected a knife and a small flashlight from the miscellaneous articles it contained, secreting them beneath his clothing.

As there were no signs of a struggle he assumed that Vernia had left voluntarily; but he was equally certain that she could not have gone far without being captured and enslaved by the sabits.

Having by this time become familiar with the fate of female slaves of marriageable age, Grandon resolved that she must be rescued speedily. There were hundreds of sabit communities in the valley, in any one of which she might be a prisoner; he must find a way to escape from his own community, then spy on all the others in turn until he found her.

That night when the men had been quartered in their dormitory he thought of a plan, and set about at once to put it into execution.

On the evening following her capture, Vernia was choking down a small portion of the sticky mess when she saw Rotha entering the women's quarters.

The girl ran toward her and buried her face in her bosom, weeping softly. Vernia noticed several bruises on her shoulders and arms, and the bluish prints of huge fingers on her neck.

"Poor child," Vernia murmured. "They have abused you shamefully."

The girl looked up into her eyes, and there was a smile on her quivering lips. "I weep not with sorrow, Vernia of Reabon," she whispered. "It is because of my great joy that I cannot control myself. I tremble with rapture and thrill with the memory of a wonderful experience."

"But you have been choked and beaten."

"You do not understand. The man who made those marks is dead."

"Then you were rescued. Tell me of it."

"When I entered the mating pens, Oro, whom I love, met me at the gate and conducted me to the man for whom I had been destined by the king sabit. On the way I besought him to take me to an empty room and leave me there until tonight, but he said such tactics would be useless—that we would surely be found out and the sabits would put us both to death with horrible tortures.

"When he led me into the room, a great, hairy man leaped up from the corner and seized me by the arms. I cried out and struggled to escape him. Oro had left, but he must have heard my cry, for I saw him enter the room just as the hairy giant hurled me to the floor.

"Would that you could have seen my beloved at that moment, my Vernia! He was magnificent. With blazing eyes and set lips he grasped my assailant, held him for a moment aloft, and then threw him to the floor with such violence that I could hear the snapping of his bones. He stood glowering down at the lifeless form for a moment, then lifted me tenderly in his arms, and whispered words of comfort, cuddling me as one would a little child. Presently he set me on my feet and would have gone away, but I begged him not to leave me.

"'Tempt me not,' he said, 'lest I further transgress the laws of our masters, the sabits. Think you that I am fashioned of stone?'

"Then he swept me in his arms, and pressed his lips to mine, while I trembled and grew weak with the joy of that first kiss of love. And so it came about that Oro the Mighty made me his mate, and swore that I was his, and he was mine, forever and ever. Is it not wonderful?"

"It is wonderful," said Vernia, "to have known your true love, though for only a day. But will Oro not be punished by the sabits?"

"If he is found out. But during the night he took the body to the river and, after weighting it with stones, sank it in deep water. The natural supposition will be that the man escaped."

Vernia and Rotha worked side by side for many days, first in the incubator room, and later tending and feeding small fantas. It was due to this change in occupation that Vernia twice avoided the inspection tours of the king sabit.

She was feeding the sticky stuff to a voracious young fanta one day when Rotha touched her arm. "The king sabit comes. Stoop over that he may not observe you."

Vernia bent low over the wriggling fanta, meanwhile watching the king sabit from the corner of her eye. He advanced slowly, pausing now and then to indicate a woman for the pens. At length he came in front of Vernia, stopped for a moment, then started on. It was her hungry charge that proved her undoing, for in her preoccupation she held her wrist too close to the keen mandibles and received a sharp nip.

With a cry of pain she stood erect. The king sabit stopped, turned back, looked at her fixedly for a moment, then vibrated his antennae. She would be conducted to the mating pens the following evening.

CHAPTER XI

GRANDON'S PLAN of escape entailed no inconsiderable degree of caution, as well as an immense amount of physical labor.

The room adjoining the dormitory in which he and his men were quartered was used for storing the driest fungi which, when mixed with the sticky milk of the green creatures, constituted the food of the slaves. These fungi were dumped in great heaps about the room without any semblance of order, and as one of the heaps effectually concealed a corner, one side of which was formed by the outer wall, it was Grandon's purpose to dig a tunnel from this point to a spot he had marked about fifty feet from the hut, where he could emerge under a large surface root. The entrance to his tunnel would thus be hidden by the pile of fungi, while the exit might easily be covered with one of the huge leaves, a profusion of which lay everywhere about the hut.

Night after night he labored, digging with bare hands and the knife he had brought from the airship, for he had no tools of any kind. After many nights of arduous toil he had completed a slanting tunnel about eight feet deep, and was digging in a horizontal direction toward the point where he had calculated the root would be, when the floor of his burrow gave way with startling abruptness. He fell, first striking some object that gave off a metallic clang, then alighting on a hard, smooth surface with considerable force.

Dazed for a moment, Grandon lay there in pitch darkness with no inkling of what had happened. At length he arose stiffly to his feet, for he was badly bruised, though fortunately no bones were broken. He bethought himself now of the flashlight which he had kept concealed in his clothing since the day he had examined the abandoned airship.

The beating of his heart was momentarily stilled by the sight which greeted his eyes when he turned on the light; directly in front of him stood what appeared to be a huge warrior, attired in armor from head to foot. Closer scrutiny, however, revealed the fact that he faced an empty suit of armor, for a mailed gauntlet clutching a heavy axe had fallen from one of the arms. It was this which had caused the clanging sound he had heard.

The armor was skillfully wrought of a brownish metal which he at first took for bronze on account of its appearance. It was of a pattern unlike anything he had ever seen or heard of, and strikingly decorated with designs of inlaid gold set with brilliant jewels.

Sharp metal spines projected from the top and back of the grotesque headpiece, while two large green jewels sparkled just above the movable visor like the eyes of some multi-horned reptile. In the visor itself, the true eyeholes were of a hard, thick crystal, and below them were small perforations to admit air. A huge broadsword hung from one side of the belt and a short club with a heavy spiked knob dangled from the other.

On the floor before the figure lay a quantity of loose earth which had been carried with Grandon in his fall. He dashed the light upward and its rays revealed a ceiling nearly ten feet above his head, supported by timbers. He had broken through between two of the large timbers at a point where the cross-pieces were completely rotted away.

Upon examining his surroundings he found that he was in a corridor about thirty feet in width, and extending in both directions as far as he could see. A double row of hexagonal columns supported the heavy ceiling beams, and before each column stood a figure similar to the one he had examined, with the exception that every alternate figure held a long, broad-bladed spear instead of an axe in the extended right gauntlet.

The Earthman was in a quandary; he could not return via the opening through which he had fallen.

From his fellow slaves he had heard legends of an ancient race of men called Albines, who were said to have at one time been masters of the sabits. These Albines wore suits of mail which effectually protected them from the creatures, and made slaves of whole colonies by raiding them and making prisoners of the queen and king sabits, for the soldiers and workers, being ever subject to the commands of their rulers, immediately became docile when the lives of their superiors were threatened. The Albines had vanished many years before—no one knew how or why—and the sabits had thenceforth turned the tables on man by enslaving the marsh-people.

Grandon selected a suit of armor which appeared to be his size, and after a considerable struggle with the unfamiliar fastenings, succeeded in donning it. He had expected to feel stiff and awkward in his metal suit, and was therefore agreeably surprised when he found it both light and pliable; for though exceedingly hard and strong, the metal was as light as aluminium and so fashioned that the interlocking plates easily adjusted themselves to every movement of his body.

Armed with sword, axe and club, he set out to explore the subterranean passageway, walking between the two rows of pillars that were guarded by the silent sentinels of a vanished race, and flashing his light in a semicircle before him.

As he passed along, he noticed that the stone walls on both sides of him were carved at intervals with scenes and hieroglyphics. The scenes, for the most part, represented men attired in armor such as he wore, battling with sabits. He noticed, also, that in nearly every instance, the figures were pictured as striking the sabits between the eyes with spiked clubs although a few used axes; and one was represented as severing a soldier sabit's head from its body with a broadsword.

One scene that particularly interested him depicted a group of Albines in the act of capturing a queen sabit while their comrades fought off her guards. They were fastening huge manacles on her neck and legs while she struggled desperately.

It seemed that he had walked for more than a mile along the corridor, and passed several thousand armored figures, when he arrived at a great circular chamber that, for elegance and richness of decoration, surpassed anything he had ever seen.

From the base of the walls to the peak of the domelike ceiling, it was a mass of grotesque bas-reliefs and mural paintings in bright pigments, while gracefully sculptured statues of men and women occupied niches set at intervals of about fifteen feet all about the room. The floor was of varicolored blocks of clearest crystal, fitted together so skillfully that they presented a surface as smooth as that of a mirror, while forming beautiful tesselated patterns of exquisite design.

When he turned his light on the floor it sent forth myriad reflections that lit up the entire room. He was amazed by this phenomenon until he discovered that the base of each block had been cut and silvered so each beam of light was multiplied a thousand-fold.

In the center of the room a fountain babbled, evidently fed by an artesian well, for it could not otherwise have continued in operation for hundreds of years without attention. As he walked toward the fountain he saw a round bulk, which he had at first mistaken for a shadow, suddenly leap back and then scamper for a broad doorway at the left.

The thing had short legs armed with huge claws that rattled on the polished floor, and a barrel-shaped body covered with tiny, fishlike scales. Grandon recognized it as one of those large, burrowing rodents which the omnivorous sabits prized so highly as an article of food.

Several times he had seen them feeding on fungi and grasses in the woods, and the thought came that this creature must needs have access to the outer world to live; consequently there must undoubtedly be a means of egress nearby which he himself could use, for where so thick-bodied a rodent could go, he could easily follow.

He entered the doorway in quick pursuit and found himself in a passageway similar to the one he had just vacated. The circular chamber was evidently a sort of hub from which these passageways radiated as spokes in all directions.

The rodent had disappeared, but its trail was not hard to follow, for it had left thousands of muddy footprints during its many excursions to the fountain. The trail terminated at a gaping black hole in the wall where a portion of the sculptured stone had broken away. Drawing his sword and pointing the light before him, he entered the dark, winding burrow, crawling on knees and elbows. It led upward in a slanting, irregular spiral which he thought would never come to an end.

At length the welcome scent of fresh air came to his nostrils and he emerged from the burrow at the base of a huge tree. He shut off his light. As he paused there in the darkness, Grandon fancied he heard the distant murmur of human voices. He listened intently for a moment, then clambered up on a large surface root. Several hundred yards distant he saw two torches flickering before the gateway of a circular wall about ten feet high which surrounded a tall, conical structure.

Leaping down from the root he approached the place cautiously. As he drew nearer the sounds grew more plain, and he could distinguish the voices of men raised in altercation. He also heard the sound of blows, and thought he detected the faint cry of a woman.

The torch-lit gateway was guarded by two powerful soldier sabits with brown forceps, so he circled, keeping well out of sight, and brought up at the base of the wall at a point that was not visible from the gate. He leaped, hooked his fingers over the edge of the wall, and drew himself up on its broad top. Then flattening his body on its surface, he peered cautiously within.

The space inside the wall was illuminated by four torches, the sharpened butts of which had been driven in the ground. Some twenty-odd slaves, all big strapping fellows, were ranged in an irregular circle about two of their comrades who were engaged in primitive combat.

Beneath one of the torches lay two other hairy men, stone dead—one with his throat torn out and the other with his head twisted and bent back in such a fashion as to indicate a broken neck.

Suddenly the taller of the two combatants leaped forward and locked his arms about the head of the other, bearing him to the ground just as they struck the earth he whirled, twisting the tightly gripped head—there was a sickening snap, and the duel was ended.

The big fellow arose, panting heavily from his exertions, and faced the others. "You have seen the fate of those three fools," he growled. "Are there any others, who would match their strength with Tholto for this slave woman?"

There was no response. Evidently his comrades were convinced of Tholto's prowess.

"Bring me the woman, Oro," continued the victor. "Many precious moments have I wasted in silencing these braggarts."

A great, hairy man, larger even than Tholto and superbly muscled, went into a low door at his back, and emerged a moment later dragging Vernia by the wrist. He pushed her toward Tholto, who seized her roughly and drew her to his side.

The slaves were startled by a clanking noise behind them, and upon looking around beheld a man clad from head to foot in brown armor on which many jewels glistened, his terrifying appearance enhanced by a spine-crested helmet in which two emerald eyes sparkled, and by the businesslike weapons that dangled from his belt.

Straight for the startled Tholto he rushed, and there were none to block his path, for though no living marsh-man had ever seen an Albine, they had been described in detail to all through the familiar legends which held them to be a race of supermen.

"Release the girl," said a clear, commanding voice.

Tholto, though startled, was apparently unafraid. "She belongs to me," he replied. "I will not release her, nor lives there man or demon who can force me to do so."

"Release the girl or take the consequences, slave! I would not harm you, for your actions are only what might be expected of one with your intelligence and training."

For answer Tholto laughed. His mirth was suddenly cut short by the impact of a mailed fist with the point of his jaw. A look of surprise came to his face; his arms dropped, his knees sagged, and he sank limply to the ground.

Vernia reeled, and would have fallen had not Grandon caught her in his arms. He raised his visor and, looking into the melting depths of twin pools of flame, saw the soul of a woman.

"How I wished that you would come," she whispered, her arms about his neck, her upturned face so close that the fragrance of her breath intoxicated him, "wished without hope."

For answer he bent low over the yielding, tremulous lips, but their moment of rapture was rudely broken into by a shout from one of the slaves. "The sabits! Run for your lives! The sabits come!"

Grandon wheeled and beheld two soldier sabits rushing toward them. The slaves scattered, diving into the various doorways at the base of the conelike structure. He pushed the girl into one of these and, lowering his visor, tore the heavy spiked club from his belt.

As the first soldier sabit opened its huge forceps to encircle Grandon's waist, he raised his spiked club and crashed it down with all his might between the two enormous eyes.

The creature paused, its head drooped, and it began walking aimlessly in a circle. Not so its mate, however, which leaped forward and swept Grandon from his feet before he could swing the club a second time. It shook him and crunched him with its powerful mandibles, but the armor-plates held, and though giddy from the shaking, he was unhurt.

Grandon lost his spiked club, but his sword and axe remained in his belt. He drew the latter and struck at the creature's foreleg. To his surprise the weapon severed it completely. Where an axe of steel would have failed to make an impression, the razorlike edge of this marvelous metal cut cleanly. Though the axe-head, like the club, was weighted with a ball of black metal, probably lead, the blade itself as well as the handle were of the wondrously hard brown metal.

Encouraged by his success with the axe, Grandon hacked desperately at the ugly head. At length the powerful forceps released their grip and the sabit followed the staggering tactics of its companion, walking about on its five good legs and moving the stump of the sixth as though the member were still there.

The Earthman rose to his feet and struck off the heads of the two creatures with his axe. To his surprise and horror, the bodies continued their purposeless wandering!

Vernia came forth from the hut as he was recovering his club, and one by one the marsh-men appeared, astonishment and awe written on their faces. They seemed ready to fall down and worship the hero who had, singlehanded, overcome two ferocious soldier sabits.

Tholto, who had lain like a log where Grandon felled him, now sat up and gazed on the proceedings in blank amazement, tenderly feeling his injured jaw, as if fearful that it would come off completely.

"Slaves," said Grandon suddenly, taking the hand of Vernia, "you have offered unspeakable insult to the greatest, the noblest and the most beautiful princess in all Zarovia. Ask her pardon now, for your lives are in her hands."

To a man they groveled before her.

Vernia looked up into the flashing eyes of her champion.

"I would pardon them all, Robert Grandon," she said, "for they know nothing of the ethics of men, but have rather been bred and trained like domestic animals."

"You have heard her generous verdict, slaves," said Grandon. "Rise, now, and attend what I have to say to you. I take it that you would prefer freedom to slavery."

"We desire freedom above all things, mighty Albine," replied Oro, who had taken a place at the head of the men, "but the sabits are all-powerful and may not be overcome by ordinary mortals."

"I am no Albine," continued the Earthman. "Call me Grandon of Terra. What I have done to yonder sabits, you can do to others of their kind. All you need is weapons and armor. These I will provide if you will follow me and acknowledge my leadership."

"I am called Oro the Mighty," the huge marsh-man answered, "yet I gladly acknowledge your leadership."

"And I! And I!" echoed the others with enthusiasm.

"Then follow me and I will make sabit killers of you all."

Grandon led the way toward the gate when he heard a cry behind them. Turning, he beheld Tholto striving weakly to rise.

"Mercy," he cried. "Have mercy, noble Grandon of Terra. Leave me not here to be torn to pieces by sabits and fed to the fantas."

Grandon turned inquiring eyes to Vernia.

"He is the most grievous offender of them all," she said, "yet will I pardon him because of his ignorance."

Motioning two of the men to assist Tholto, Grandon ordered the others to bring as many torches as they could find, but carried only one lighted, and hooded it with a food sack in order that it might not be seen by the sabits.

When all was ready he led them to the mouth of the rodent burrow, enjoining absolute silence on the way. He was the first to enter, with flashlight and sword in his hands as before. Vernia came next, clutching his ankle, and after her came Oro and the others. When they had concluded the tortuous descent and all were standing in the long corridor he ordered that three more torches be lighted and immediately set about the work of outfitting his men with armor and weapons.

No suit of Albine armor small enough for Vernia could be found, but the smallest one available was made to serve the purpose by telescoping it at the waist and fastening it with strips torn from the sack. These sacks were made from the exceedingly tough cocoons spun and eventually discarded by the fantas, and were not only strong and durable, but water-proof as well.

The little army, marching on into the great central room, torchlight glinting from jeweled plates and spears and axes held aloft, looked like reincarnated Albine warriors returned to their ancient haunts.

Grandon assembled his small command near the bubbling fountain and addressed them; "I brought you here with the agreement that I'd free you from the sabits. I had a further plan—to start a movement to free every human slave and make slaves of the sabits that survive! First we will conquer the white sabits, for they are the most powerful. We can attack them from within their own stronghold. On the wall here is a picture of the way the Albines captured sabit rulers, and enslaved their followers. Five men search the passageways and chambers for fetters and chains like those illustrated. Five men will remain here under the command of the princess. The rest will go with me. We must act quickly, for the night is three-fourths gone, and with daylight the sabits will be astir and our difficulties will be great."

Oro and four other men were detailed to search the passageways and, after five men had been selected for Vernia, Grandon led the others along the passageway through which he had first entered the subterranean chambers. On the way he collected a number of spears from the silent guardsmen.

With the assistance of his men he cut notches in the handles of four spears, chopped several others into shorter pieces, and with strips of the food sack for fastenings, constructed a serviceable ladder to reach the hole through which he had fallen.

He stationed three men at the foot of the ladder, instructing them as to their duties, and led the others up into the fungi storage room where he found things as he had left them. Very quietly they made their way to the dormitories where two hundred slaves were quartered, one man being left at the top of the ladder and another stationed at the entrance to the storage room.

Two soldier sabits were on guard without the main entrance to the dormitories. Grandon quietly stationed four of his men within and then began the business of awakening the slaves and sending them into the chamber below where three men waited to outfit them with armor and weapons and instruct them as to the correct method for dispatching sabits.

At dawn, just as the last of the men had been sent below, the sabit guards entered for the purpose of arousing the slaves. One was hacked to pieces as he came in the doorway, but the other, seeing the fate of its companion, escaped to warn the community.

Grandon now had an army of two hundred and twenty-three men, more than enough to guard the doorways. Though the sabits attacked desperately all morning long, he succeeded in keeping them at bay.

It was nearly midday before Oro reported to his commander. He did not arrive empty-handed, however, as his men staggered under the weight of four sets of sabit fetters. They had found many new wonders in their explorations of the subterranean passageways—great dining halls; barracks for soldiers; kitchens with cooking utensils and fireplaces; treasure vaults filled with jewels and precious metals; armories with weapons, armor and strange engines of war; bedrooms with grotesque but artistically constructed sleeping shelves and furniture, and a great throne room decorated in barbaric magnificence.

Grandon was greatly interested but he had business at hand that would brook no waiting.

The structure in which the king and queen sabits of the white community were quartered had but one entrance on the ground floor; there were, however, four runways connecting with its underground level which branched out at right angles, leading to other buildings of the community. His first problem, therefore, was to block these runways with warriors, thus cutting off the sabit rulers from these avenues of escape.

One of the four runways led directly under the dormitory and storeroom building occupied by Grandon and his men. This was already blocked with armed guards.

Another runway led to the sleeping quarters of the women and children in connection with which there was another storeroom. The third led to the building in which the women sorted sabit eggs and cared for the young fantas, while the fourth connected with the building in which the men looked after the larger fantas.

Sabit soldiers and workers used the last-named building for sleeping quarters, as well as the central structure. The green creatures were kept in the upper levels of the great central building, for the sabits had learned by experience that they died in great numbers when quartered on the ground or under it. The mating pens were kept entirely separate from the rest of the buildings.

Leaving fifty men to guard the building which was in their possession, Grandon sallied forth at the head of his army. With Oro the Mighty on his right, and Tholto on his left, he fought at the head of his men for more than an hour before the attacking sabits gave way. These retreated to the central building, but Grandon was not ready to attack this. The women's quarters were captured in a relatively short time.

Leaving a guard of twenty-five armored men here, they attacked the building in which the women worked. Here they met with desperate resistance, and when finally they broke into it, found that the sabits had transported all eggs and young fantas to the central building.

After leaving twenty-five men to guard this building, they attacked the one in which the larger fantas were kept, but found it deserted.

Another guard of twenty-five was hosted at this point, and now, with all avenues of escape blocked, they were ready to lay siege to the main structure. After posting guards at the various points the army numbered only ninety-eight men. With these he surrounded the structure, and attempted to battle his way through the narrow doorway.

This, he soon found, would be a well-nigh endless task, for two soldier sabits could hold back a regiment here, and although they were cut down time and again, others rushed in to take their places.

"If we only had a cannon of some sort," thought Grandon. Then he remembered the airship and the mattorks. Leaving Oro in charge of the besiegers with instructions to keep up the attack on the entrance, he took a dozen men and made for the tree in which the craft was jammed. While six of the men stood guard at the foot of the tree, he and the other six removed their armor and climbed up the rough bark.

They found the craft apparently undisturbed. With the aid of tools which he took from one of the drawers in the cab, he removed the three mattorks and, binding each to a man with a strip of sacking, he bade them convey them to the ground. He and the others followed with the ammunition, tools, searchlights, and whatever else looked useful. After donning their armor they returned to the attack.

As his men were unskilled in the use of the mattork, Grandon mounted only one weapon. Then he recalled his men from the doorway and began the bombardment, using explosive metal bullets. Only a few shots were required to enlarge the opening to the size of a dozen doorways and at the same time clear the surrounding space of sabits.

Grandon knew that the quarters of the queen and king sabits were in a central chamber on the ground floor, and that four walls intervened between this chamber which was reached by winding passageways, and the outer opening. Moving his mattork closer, he shot down the second, third and fourth walls, while his warriors kept the sabits back.

Then he led a swift charge on the rulers of the white sabits, followed by Oro and the men who carried the manacles.

It was here that he learned a peculiar characteristic of the king and queen sabits, for though the soldier and worker sabits retreated, the sabit rulers showed no disposition to do so. They appeared to have a certain standard of royal dignity which they punctiliously observed. They struggled desperately but unavailingly until the manacles were clamped in place. Then the white sabits became the slaves of men, for as soon as their rulers were made prisoners, all surrendered docilely.

Placing a guard of twenty-five men around the royal prisoners the Earthman ordered that the community life of the former masters of men be resumed. The fantas and eggs were returned to their respective buildings and the green creatures were conveyed to their leafy pastures—but this time the work was done entirely by sabits. Later, when the community of marsh-people was organized, it was Grandon's plan that the sabits should fetch and carry for those who once served then.

When he returned to the dormitories, Grandon found Vernia in earnest and animated conversation with a young slave girl. Oro, who entered behind him, raised his visor at sight of the girl and the two embraced in a transport of joyous recognition.

"The girl is Rotha, a former slave of the brown-mouthed sabits," explained Vernia. "She has just escaped, and brings terrible tidings. This is Grandon of Terra, Rotha—the man of whom I told you. Let him hear your message at once."

"Today while working with the others," said Rotha, "I heard the rumor that the eighteen girls whom you left in the mating pens would be tortured to death before the other slaves tonight."

"But I saw no girls in the mating pens," said Grandon.

"Nor did I," answered Vernia. "Rotha says they had been taken to the inner rooms before I arrived."

Grandon swung on Oro. "Why didn't you tell me of this? We could have brought them with us."

The big marsh-man hung his head. "I thought you knew," he said. "You were in command, and I did not doubt that if you wished them brought with us you would say so. Every evening there are girls in the mating pens."

"Where are they to be punished, and what will be the manner of their punishment?" asked Grandon.

"All the slaves will be herded before the hut of the queen sabit."

"Yes."

"Then each girl will be fed, feet first, to a large fanta."

"Can nothing be done to save them?" asked Vernia.

"We will do our best," Grandon replied. "Oro, assemble a hundred men at once."

CHAPTER XII

FROM AMONG THE hundred warriors marshaled by Oro, Grandon selected five who appeared above the average in intelligence, to act as officers, each to command nineteen men.

Absolute silence was observed as they marched. The Earthman led the column, followed by Oro with twenty men with two sets of sabit-fetters. After this group came the next officer whose crew carried a mattork, a rough tripod that Grandon had made for it, and ammunition. The others brought up the rear.

It was not until they arrived at a point near the mating pens that they saw the torches which had been planted before the central building. The doomed girls were huddled in a little group near the doorway, guarded by a dozen soldier sabits.

The king sabit stood in the glare of the torchlight, but his mate was not in sight. The female slaves and their children sat on the ground facing the entrance. Behind them stood the men, while soldier sabits formed a great circle about the whole scene.

Grandon saw two worker sabits pilot a huge fanta through the doorway. This lusty infant was larger even than the soldier sabits, almost ready to spin its cocoon. It gnashed its huge mandibles continuously, and wiggled from side to side, nearly upsetting its pilots with each jerk.

"We must work fast," said Grandon, "if we would be in time. The plan is as follows. Oro will take twenty men and the larger set of fetters and circle, coming up behind the buildings. When he hears the report of the mattork, he is to cut a door in the rear of the building, go immediately to the chamber of the queen sabit and make her prisoner.

"You two will take your details and go with Oro's men to the rear of the building. Upon the second report of the mattork, one detail will charge around the right side of the building and fetter the king sabit while the other charges around the left side and rescues the girls, placing a guard around them.

"The fourth detail will go to a place behind that large surface root to the north of the sabits, while the last one will hide behind the mating pens on the south. At the third report of the mattork they will rush in and surround the slaves assembled before the building."

"But you thus will be left alone," remonstrated Oro. "The sabits will overpower and kill you, for you cannot resist an army single-handed."

"Have no fear for me," replied Grandon. "Only do as you are bidden. Go now, swiftly and silently as possible. There is no time to lose."

In a moment Grandon was left entirely alone. He quickly mounted the mattork, meanwhile watching the ceremonies of the sabits from time to time. The king sabit had come out in front of the hungry fanta and was haranguing the slaves in the tone-language, no doubt warning them that if any of their number should ever attempt to escape, a fate similar to that which was to be meted out to the girls awaited them.

After droning out his warnings for a full ten minutes the king sabit stepped to one side, whereupon four worker sabits seized a girl, two on a side, and carried her before the fanta.

Grandon quickly withdrew the clip of explosive bullets he had in the mattork and inserted one of solid missiles instead. The girl was being pushed feet foremost toward those great gaping jaws, and although he knew Oro would not be ready, he took careful aim at the hideous head.

Just as he was ready to press the button the form of a man appeared on a direct line between mattork and target. Grandon lifted his tripod, intending to try a shot from another position, when he saw the man who had momentarily saved the fanta's life hurl a huge rock fragment straight for its ugly head. The missile struck the mark squarely, and the great soft-bodied monster, after a convulsive shudder, sank over on its side, stone dead.

Once more Grandon put his clip of explosive bullets in the mattork. He saw the man turn and dodge among the snapping sabits; he succeeded in breaking through the line and in keeping a short distance ahead of his pursuers.

Training his weapon on those sabits immediately behind the fugitive, the Earthman opened fire. The exploding missile tore a great gap in the ranks of the monsters, killing a half dozen and disabling as many more, whereupon the others paused, running this way and that in their endeavor to locate the unseen attacker.

Suddenly Grandon leaped up on the surface root behind him and, turning his pocket flashlight on himself, shouted defiance to the sabits in the tone-language. The king sabit saw him almost immediately, and vibrated his antennae excitedly, whereupon all but a dozen soldier sabits who remained to guard the slaves charged down on Grandon. As he leaped back to the ground and made his mattork ready, the man who had broken through the sabit guards arrived, panting heavily.

"Give me a weapon," cried the strange, "and I will fight with you."

Grandon handed him the spiked club. "Hit them between the eyes," he said. "It is the only vulnerable spot. If you are as skillful with a club as you are at hurling stones, I am sure you will account for a few of them."

The newcomer smiled slightly. He was evidently not a marsh-man, for his features were clean-cut, his hair was a light golden yellow. He walked with the carriage of a soldier.

"It was a lucky hit," he replied. "Throwing stones is not my specialty. I could do much better with that weapon."

Grandon fired the signal for the second attack.

"Where did you learn to use the mattork?" Grandon asked his ally.

"I was captain in the armies of Mernerum for several years, and was credited with being a fairly good marksman."

"Here, then, take the weapon. Let me see what you can do with it. The next shot will be the final signal for my men. See if you can stop the charge of these soldier sabits."

The newcomer grasped the weapon with the assurance of a master musician taking up his instrument. The first shot was a direct hit in the foremost ranks of the sabits, and thereafter he fired with unerring accuracy. It was but one weapon against an army, however, and both men knew that in a few seconds they would be overwhelmed.

Grandon saw one crew of armored men struggling to fetter the king sabit, while another group struck down the guards surrounding the girls. Before the last two details had come to blows with the other guards, the mattork-tripod was knocked over by the charging monsters, and both men were fighting with their backs against the thick surface root, Grandon swinging his heavy axe while his new-found ally used the spiked club almost as skillfully as he had used the mattork.

Closer and closer pressed the sabits, snapping their mighty forceps which were easily capable of cutting the unarmored man in two at one nip. The newcomer knew this, yet he laughed as he fought, and at times taunted the furious attackers in the tone-language.

"You jest with death, yet fight with the fury of a cornered lion," said Grandon. "What is your name?"

"I am called Joto, which in the language of Mernerum means The Merry One: Take that!" crushing the skull of a huge sabit, "thou self-styled master of men! Names matter but little now, for we have not long to live; yet I would not die without knowing the name of the mighty fighter to whom I owe the few moments of life I have remaining."

"I am Grandon of Terra," answered the Earthman, cleaving the head of an antagonist and leaping back to avoid the snap of another. He tried to wrench the axe free, but it stuck, and the next moment powerful forceps encircled him.

With a final tug at the handle of his weapon, he was jerked from the side of his companion and mauled about by a dozen sabits who alternately shook him, crunched him with their mandibles, and tried to pull him to pieces. The armor held, but the man inside it was swiftly lapsing into unconsciousness.

A powerful sabit, more cunning than its comrades, seized Grandon by the ankles and beat him against the hard surface root. At the second terrific shock the thread of consciousness snapped asunder.

CHAPTER XIII

RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS brought numerous twinges of pain to Grandon. He stirred uneasily. A soft hand pressed his fevered brow, and a sweet voice said: "Speak not so loudly, Rotha. You will awaken him and he needs rest—much rest and quiet."

Slowly he opened his eyes. He was lying on a sleeping shelf that projected in a half-moon shape from the wall like the nest of a cave-swallow. At the foot of his couch, which was of stone but lined with soft moss, Rotha, the slave girl, held a golden vessel in which was a pasty compound of aromatic herbs, while Vernia occupied a place at the head. His armor had been removed and his bruises covered with the sweet-smelling ointment.

In the center of the room a guard stood stiffly erect, holding a sputtering torch, by the light of which he could see grotesquely carved figures on the walls, a queer table shagged like a great tortoise, and chairs that were human figures seated on round pedestals, the body forming the back, the lap the seat, and outstretched arms with hands bent downward and finger-tips touching the thighs forming the arm rests.

The furniture was all cut from hard wood of a reddish purple color and highly polished. The floor was of hexagonal blocks of vari-colored stone and presented a smooth, glossy surface.

He saw all these things at a glance, then his eyes sought those of the girl at his bedside. "It is indeed an honor to be nursed by the greatest ruler in all Zarovia," he said, smiling feebly.

"I'm afraid it is but small recompense for your services," she replied. "Besides, I am a ruler no longer, nor is it probable that I ever will be again. Within fifty-eight days my cousin, Prince Destho, will assume the crown. I am sure he must have been the instigator of my abduction. My legal right to the throne will have been forever forfeited. I will have been away from the capital for a year, and such is the inexorable law."

"Surely you must be mistaken in your calculations. I am positive you have not been away from Reabon for over half a year at most."

"You forget that you are on Zarovia, where the years are much shorter than on your planet. Our world is closer to the sun than yours, consequently our year is only two hundred and twenty-five days in length."

"That's true. Then we must start for Reabon at once."

"But how? The marsh-men say there is no way out of this valley but a secret tunnel, known only to the sabits; and this is said to be guarded night and day by a huge army of soldier sabits, recruited from all the communities in the valley."

"But does not the river cut through the surrounding cliffs on its way to the sea?"

"I am told that the river ends in a great whirlpool a few miles from here. They say it falls into a bottomless pit, for the pit has never been known to fill up or the river to overflow its banks."

"Then, we have the alternative of scaling the cliffs, or finding the secret passageway of the sabits and fighting our way through," said Grandon. "In either event we must start quickly, for the time is short."

Despite her protests Grandon arose, gritting his teeth as pain shot through his body. While he donned his armor with the assistance of the two girls he learned that all of the slaves had been rescued and the king and queen sabits were prisoners.

Joto had escaped his pursuers and personally led a party to the rescue of Grandon. They took him to Vernia, who had him conveyed to this bedchamber of an ancient Albine ruler, where she and Rotha nursed him all through the night.

Grandon was drawing on his gauntlets when Oro entered. At sight of his commander, Oro saluted smartly, after the style of soldiers of Zarovian empires.

"Where did you learn the military salute, and why are you here instead of guarding the yoga-sabit as instructed?" asked Grandon.

"We have been taught many things by Joto, who has assumed temporary command of your army," replied Oro. "He has set the other captains you appointed to the tasks of guarding the king and queen sabits of the two communities, drilling, and learning the meaning of military orders. In addition he has been training a crew of thirty men to handle the mattorks. We are in grave danger, for the sabits of all the communities, realizing that we menace their safety, have united with the common purpose of annihilating us. Our scouts report the marshaling of a mighty force in the red-mouthed community which they have made their base of operations. Joto thinks they will attack us before nightfall."

"Joto has commendable initiative and ability to match it," said Grandon. "Let us go and see what he has accomplished."

Accompanied by the two girls, they made their way to the place where Grandon had fallen into the passageway; the hole had been widened and a broad stairway constructed. Two guards saluted stiffly as they passed.

They found Joto outside the structure, supervising the practice of the mattork crew, who used empty bullets and gas clips but went through the motions of loading, aiming and firing with surprising speed and precision, while four units of a hundred men each were being drilled by their officers. He turned and raised his visor with a welcoming salute as Grandon and the others approached.

"I see that you have considerable military genius," said Grandon.

"Having trained men in the art of warfare for some time I should be proficient," said Joto. "However, I bow to you as a superior strategist. The attack you planned against the brown-mouthed sabits was marvelously conceived and executed. We await your orders."

"How many sabits do you expect will attack us?"

"Twenty thousand, at the very least. Every community is sending no less than a hundred, and there are more than two hundred communities."

"Twenty thousand sabits," mused Grandon. "Enough to sweep us away bodily, and these buildings with us."

"Easily."

"With four hundred and fifty men it will be impossible to guard both communities, or even all the buildings of one community. Have the brown-mouthed sabit rulers brought to the central building of this community, and there kept with the rulers of the white community. Withdraw our guards from all other buildings, and block all the runways with stones except the one which leads here from the central building."

"Then we may as well kill all of our sabit slaves at once," said Joto, "for the attackers will surely kill them."

"Why should they war on their own kind," asked Grandon "when it is their purpose to rescue them?"

"Their purpose is not altruistic, but protective only. As our slaves, the brown-mouthed and the white sabits are enemies of their kind. Moreover, they will fight to protect their rulers, their eggs and their fantas."

"Why not let them fight?" asked Vernia. "They should account for a few of the attackers."

"Right," exclaimed Grandon. "Leave them to guard the brown-mouthed community and the three outer structures of this one. No doubt they will all be killed in the first charge, but it is probable they will account for an equal number of enemies."

Joto sent a messenger to order the brown-mouthed rulers brought to new quarters, as directed by Grandon. It was decided that a hundred men should be posted in the central building, with one mattork placed on the roof. The other two mattorks would command the battlefield from a place on the roof of the men's sleeping quarters.

The stores of dried fungi from both communities were removed from their storage rooms and carried to the subterranean chambers, as were also hundreds of sacks of the sticky food. While Joto supervised this work, Grandon took Oro and a crew of twenty-five men to examine the engines of war in the ancient armory of the Albines, which Oro had discovered while exploring the underground passageways.

The huge subterranean armory, next to the throne room, was the largest excavation in the entire system. Its floor level was considerably below that of the passageways and its ceiling was higher and dome-shaped. Though the floor was of hard granite; the walls and ceilings were as elaborately decorated as those of the fountain room, the reliefs being almost exclusively battle scenes between Albines and sabits, and in many cases showing in operation engines of war similar to those which stood about on the floor.

Grandon examined the heavy, death-dealing instruments. Most of them were better for attack on the sabit dwellings than for defense.

There were catapults that hurled huge stones or fired long, heavy, metal-tipped missiles which acted as battering rams. There were instruments apparently adapted to the spraying of poisonous liquids, though no ammunition for them could be found.

Among the devices which required considerable mechanical ingenuity were queer three-wheeled carts built in the shape of hollow triangles, the outside edges of which were protected by curved blades and spiked clubs that whirled rapidly when the machines were pushed forward by men running inside. A small group of men operating on level ground might cut a path through an entire sabit army with one of these machines.

Having sent Oro and his men to Joto with six of the carts, Grandon was examining the brown metal spring of one of the catapults when his attention was attracted by a curiously wrought cabinet standing against the wall. What he at first took to be narrow sliding drawers proved to be thin flat slabs of stone on which designs had been scratched with some sharp instrument. The topmost slab was covered with a carefully drafted design of an Albine catapult. The next illustrated the construction and working principles of the spraying machines.

As he pulled out slab after slab he found plans for the construction of practically all the machines he had seen, but the bottom slab consisted of two maps side by side, the general shape of both being identical, but the details different.

He recognized one as a map of the valley surface, the other as a plan of the underground passageways and chambers of the Albines.

A careful scrutiny of the surface map revealed only the solid, unbroken cliffs in oval formation, so he concluded that the tunnel mentioned by the marsh-men must not have been known to the Albines. Turning from this to the underground map, he noticed a discrepancy that had previously escaped his observation, for in the first map the river began at the western end of the valley and wound its way south of the center to the point where it ended in a whirlpool; while in the second it began in the northwest and flowed for some distance north of the center, apparently going directly through the point where the other map showed the whirlpool, and flowing thence on through the cliffs to the east.

Grandon had seen enough of the valley to know that but one river flowed through it. Obviously it was an underground river. Furthermore, it could not have been mapped unless navigable, in which case it offered a means of escape from the valley.

He noticed that at one point the river appeared to touch the end of the chamber he was in, but there seemed to be no mode of exit other than the door which he had entered. He walked back and forth along the walls searching for a concealed door.

When about to give up his seemingly hopeless quest he arrived at a certain point where his attention was attracted by a gentle murmuring as of distant waters. Pausing, he listened breathlessly, and noticed that the sound seemed to emanate from the figure of an armed warrior which was chiseled in bold relief on the wall before him.

A careful search revealed a small lever behind the right elbow, and on pulling this a section of the wall four feet wide and higher than a man moved toward him, revealing a flat platform and a flight of steps beyond. The sound of roaring water was now plainly audible.

Grandon stepped on the platform and, finding it firm, held his torch aloft and descended the steps. After traveling for a considerable distance he reached a level floor of stone and a moment later came upon a great stone dock on which, as far as his torchlight carried in both directions, reposed a fleet of metal boats. Each was about fifty feet in length and built in the form of those huge amphibious reptiles such as he had rescued Vernia from, back in Reabon. The prow ended in the arched serpentine neck and head, while the stern terminated in the flat, pointed tail. Behind these grotesque craft he could see the black, foam-flecked water rushing headlong beneath stalactite-festooned subterranean arches.

He examined one of the boats. It was constructed of brown metal similar to that from which the Albines made their weapons and armor, and appeared quite strong and seaworthy. The deck was completely arched over with the same material, fashioned in imitation of reptilian scales, except at the front and rear where there were oval holes provided with hinged metal lids.

Upon entering the forward hole he found a roomy interior all of metal, and saw that the hull was rigidly ribbed and braced. Twenty large metal paddles lay on the floor and there were twenty seats for paddlers, ten on each side, while metal hoods projected outward almost to the water line, in such a manner that they would completely hide the paddlers and protect them from the missiles of an enemy. The steering device and helmsman's seat were immediately behind the top of the rear entrance hole, and were also protected by movable metal plates.

Upon his moving the tiller the entire tail turned; the rudder was fastened beneath this tail.

Grandon made his way back to the armory and carefully closed the secret doorway. He started along the passageway, when he noticed a soldier running toward him.

The man stopped suddenly when he saw Grandon and saluted stiffly. "Joto bade me tell you that the sabits are beginning to attack."

"Attacking already?" Grandon hurried to join in the momentous conflict which was to decide, once and for all, whether men or monsters should rule the Valley of the Sabits.

As soon as he had left the room a tall, bulky figure in armor stepped from behind a large catapult and went directly to the hidden door, wrenching one of the torches from its fastening as he passed. The soldier fumbled with the hidden lever for a moment, then managed to swing the door back and disappeared in the dark interior.

Some twenty minutes later he reappeared, carefully fastened the door and replaced the torch. His visor was raised; the face was that of Tholto.

"A way out of the valley," he muttered. "I have only to gather a few provisions and to get her."

CHAPTER XIV

THE PANDEMONIUM of battle was punctuated by the staccato reports of the men's cannonlike mattorks as Grandon reached the interior of the men's sleeping quarters. He mounted to the topmost chamber from which Joto directed the activities of the two mattork crews while he shouted orders to the defenders.

Here he found Vernia and Rotha. "See," the marsh-girl cried, "they come by thousands and tens of thousands. They cover the entire landscape. Our defenses will be crushed."

"You forget that they are only brutes, Rotha," replied Vernia, "and as such may be overcome by creatures of superior intellect. Men are the lords of creation, not sabits."

"But they are wiser than all other animals…"

"Except men." She turned to Grandon smiling. "We are going to win this battle, are we not, Robert Grandon?"

"Most assuredly," he replied. "However, I am not so positive that we will be able to hold this building. This is hardly a safe place."

"You forget," said Vernia, "that I, too, am a soldier. I prefer to remain here, and if necessary, take part in the fighting."

"I am sure you are too good a soldier to disobey orders, and I am in command. You are ordered below."

A quick flash of resentment came to her eyes at his tone and words.

"You presume to command me? To dictate to the Princess of Reabon? I only command. Others obey."

In outraged dignity she turned and started toward the ramparts, but a strong pair of arms picked her up and carried her down the runways and to the foot of the stairway, while Rotha trailed behind. Grandon set Vernia gently down and, taking her by the shoulders, turned her so she looked up at him with flaming eyes and heaving bosom.

"You would only be in my way, and would more than likely be carried off by the sabits. Now will you go forward peaceably, or must I carry you the rest of the way?"

A slight flush suffused her cheeks, but when she raised her eyes to his, there, was a new look in them. "I will go, my commander."

"Spoken like a true soldier." He paused for a moment to admire her, walking gracefully with Rotha down the passageway; then he turned to get back to the fighting.

Grandon found the lower floor of the men's sleeping quarters well defended, so climbed once more to the top of the structure where Joto was directing the battle. As far as he could see in every direction the ground swarmed with sabits. In a short time the brown-mouthed sabit community was overwhelmed and its buildings were razed to the ground, as were three of the outer structures of the white sabit community.

The men in the central building held their own for a considerable time, but their outer ring of sabit guards were killed and torn to pieces almost instantly. At length it appeared inevitable that this building must fall. Sabits were gnawing their way through the walls and more and more soldiers were required to hold them back.

"I will take a force to help them," said Joto.

"No. You are doing very well here. I will go to their assistance," replied Grandon.

Taking fifty men from the reserve force in the storeroom Grandon led them through the low underground runway. As they arrived the guards were being driven to the inner chambers, but they rallied with the aid of the new reenforcements and once more drove the sabits from the building.

Sheb, the captain in command here, was on the roof directing the mattork crew, so Grandon climbed thither after assuring himself that the first floor was well defended. He found the crew standing idle while Sheb, fuming and cursing, was attempting to dislodge a jammed gas clip from the breech of the weapon.

"Are you all so witless that you insert a clip backward after having been told the proper way a thousand times?" he roared. "For the price of a bowl of wine I would have you stripped of your armor and thrown to the sabits."

"Let me try," said Grandon coolly. "I believe I can get that clip out for you."

Surprised at the sudden appearance of his commander, Sheb stood up and saluted hurriedly. With the point of his sword Grandon gently pried the recalcitrant clip, turned it, and closed the breech. Once more the crew sprayed bullets into the ranks of the attackers.

A soldier rushed up from below. "The outer walls are nearly gone," he gasped. "In a few minutes the building will cave in."

"Order a retreat. There is no use in defending this shell."

"The king and queen sabit prisoners—shall we take them with us?"

"Leave them behind."

"If we leave them we will have no sabit slaves," said Sheb.

"Plenty more can be captured if we successfully withstand this attack," replied Grandon.

Another messenger arrived from below.

"The sabits have burrowed into the runway," he cried. "We will not be able to return to the other building."

"Everyone below at once," shouted Grandon. "Bring the mattork and ammunition. Hurry!"

The building trembled and one of the walls collapsed as they rushed to the ground floor. "Into the runway, every man of you," he commanded. "Let the mattork crew go first and clear the way."

Soon the men were all crowded into the narrow runway while Grandon and Sheb, standing abreast, fought off the sabits that attempted to follow. The entire structure collapsed a few minutes later, crushing not only the imprisoned ruler sabits but many of the attackers as well. The entrance to the runway was completely bottled up by fallen debris.

Shouldering his way through his crowded soldiers, Grandon at length arrived at the point where the sabits had burrowed into the runway. Here the mattork crew worked desperately, flanked by a half dozen soldiers. The cut in the runway was more than twenty feet across, and swarmed with sabits. Across this breach he could see Oro and his men fighting to keep the attackers from entering on the other side.

Meanwhile the sabits on the ground above the runways were burrowing in a hundred places. Already a third of the men who guarded the central building had been dragged away by the attackers.

After a short conversation with the captain Sheb, Grandon ran across the twenty-foot breach the sabits had made in their defenses, leaping this way and that to avoid the snapping forceps.

Oro and the others welcomed him with enthusiasm.

He ran swiftly through the passageway and, upon coming up, quickly placed crews in the ancient Albine fighting chariots he had sent from the armory some time before. Taking a place with the men in the foremost machine, he led them through the door straight into the army of sabits, the guards standing aside to let them pass. They formed a flying wedge with Grandon's machine at the apex, cutting a wide swath in the ranks of the attackers.

The efficacy of the machines was surprising, even to Grandon, who had formed some idea of their possibilities. The whirling knives and clubs literally cut the opposing sabits to ribbons.

Arriving at the mouth of the runway which held the imprisoned men, they quickly drove back the attackers, then kept them at bay by running a circle about the breach while Sheb led his followers to safety. When the last man had crossed they formed a wedge once more and cut their way back to their comrades, entering the door amid shouts of acclamation from the defenders.

Night fell, and the fighting continued by torchlight, while Grandon grade further plans. There were more than a hundred of the machines in the armory, and he planned to press them all into service as soon as possible. Taking the entire force of reserves with him, he hurried thither, not noticing the absence of Vernia and Rotha who he supposed had retired to their bedchambers in the women's quarters.

He was surprised at sight of the open exit door, but decided that he must not have pushed it far enough for the lock to catch.

The machines were quickly dragged from their ancient resting places and provided with crews. Within a half hour they were assembled in the building, ready for the charge. One by one they emerged from the doorway, spreading out in a great line six hundred feet long, then "Forward!" shouted Grandon, while Joto on the roof withheld the mattork fire.

The charge was irresistible. With every fifty feet of progress a thousand sabits perished. They cut completely through the sabit army, turned their machines and charged again, breaking down the resistance of those who had instinctively filled in the lines. Back and forth they drove through the thinning ranks of the attackers until the survivors, seeing that further resistance was futile, turned and fled.

Thus was the power of the sabits forever broken in the valley.

When Grandon entered the building with his victorious machine crews, the people cheered until they were hoarse. Posting a guard at the entrance, he called them to attend what he had to say to them in the great audience chamber of the ancient Albines.

When the people were assembled in the audience chamber, Grandon mounted the steps of the throne and faced them.

"My friends," he began, "I have called you together, not merely to congratulate you on your momentous victory over those monsters who have, for centuries, oppressed you and your forefathers, but also to make a few suggestions for your coming nation. For countless ages you have been ruled by the sabits. From now on you will need a government of your own. As you have no royal family you must choose your king. Let him be one who has your interests at heart, one who has the ability and the will to carry forward the great work which has only begun tonight. Whom will you have for king?"

"Grandon of Terra!" shouted a burly soldier, waving his sword aloft. Immediately the cry was reechoed throughout the audience.

He held up his hand for silence, but many minutes elapsed before the tumult subsided. "I appreciate the honor," he said, "and regret that I must decline it. It is of vital importance that the Princess of Reabon be returned to her country and friends at once. Moreover, my own kingdom of Uxpo awaits its ruler.

"If you will permit me to make a suggestion, I will name one who is admirably suited for the place. One who, by his military genius, and training, his bravery and prowess as a soldier, has already won a place at the head of your army. Let Joto be your first king."

Joto was not without considerable popularity, and so when Grandon led him up the steps to the throne, there was a burst of cheering almost equal to that which had followed the nomination of Grandon. Grandon took the crown of the ancient Albine rulers, blew the dust of centuries from it, and placed it on the bared head of the young commander.

"You have elected me king," said Joto with his inevitable smile, "but king of what? Just as truly as we were people without a country before our deliverance, so now are we a country without a name. My first official act, therefore, will be to name this nation Granterra, in grateful tribute to the man who has made it possible."

There was more cheering for Grandon, for Joto and for the newly-named nation. Then Joto, after making Oro commander, appointed the five councilors who were to assist him, asking them to step forward as their names were called. He named the four other captains and Tholto in order, but Tholto failed to appear.

One of the latter's lieutenants, on being questioned, stated that Tholto had left him in command during the hottest fighting, and had departed with twenty men. About this time Grandon recalled that he had not seen either Vernia or Rotha since he left them at the foot of the stairway, and hastily sent a girl to the women's quarters to ascertain if they were safe. Joto dispatched soldiers to search all the underground passageways and rooms for the missing mojak and his men.

While they were out, the girl Grandon had sent returned with the news that neither Vernia nor Rotha had been seen since morning.

In a flash Grandon thought of the open door he had noticed while getting the fighting machines; he rushed out of the audience chamber and along the passageway which led to the armory. Joto, Oro and the more swift-footed among the soldiers followed closely.

Quickly springing the hidden catch, he ran down the steps and out on the docks where he saw at a glance that one of the boats was missing.

"You may as well call in your searchers, Joto," he said sadly. "They are gone."

"But where—how?"

"This stream leads out of the valley. They have disappeared. One of the boats is missing. The conclusion is obvious. I must have twenty picked fighting men at once, provisions, water, torches, and a mattork cannon. And, Oro, get me one of those large searchlights we took from the airship. We will need it in these caverns. Hurry!"

While Grandon carefully examined the nearest boat to determine its seaworthiness, Joto rushed his men as they had never been rushed before. Within a half hour the craft was provisioned and fitted with searchlight and mattork, while twenty of Granterra's brawniest fighting men stood ready to man her.

Grandon said good-by to Joto and turning to Oro, was surprised to find him in an attitude of supplication.

"A boon, mighty Grandon of Terra," he pleaded.

"Gladly, Oro, if within my power."

"Take me with you."

"I have twenty men already, and don't want to weight the boat unnecessarily. Besides you are now commander-in-chief of Granterra's armies, and your duty lies here. Why do you wish to leave?"

"Tholto has stolen one who means more than life to me. I would rescue her or avenge her."

"You mean Rotha?"

Oro nodded.

"Ask King Joto. If you have his consent, you may come."

"You have my consent, Oro, and both of you my heartfelt wishes for your success," said Joto. "I will appoint a substitute for Oro while he is gone, and will see that he is reinstated on his return."

The soldiers took their places at the paddle holes, Oro was placed at the tiller, and Grandon manned the searchlight on the forward deck. A hundred willing hands pushed them off, and they forged swiftly ahead beneath the eroded archways hung with glistening stalactites.

Grandon found Oro a skillful navigator and his soldiers adept with the paddles. Joto had selected them, not only for their fighting prowess, but also because they had previously lived with their people in the great salt marsh where boats were a necessity and every man proficient in their use.

The stream gradually widened as they progressed, and often forked in numerous ramifications, flowing through a labyrinth of arched caves for a distance, then uniting in a common channel farther on. The waters and the banks on either side of them teemed with weird subterranean life. Reptiles and animals of a thousand sizes and kinds swarmed the banks, and glided through the water about the boat.

Once they struck a huge saurian that nearly capsized their craft, but the creature sank out of sight and did not offer to molest them. Grandon noticed one peculiarity common to all, namely, that they were sightless, and paid no attention to the searchlight. In fact, most of them were without even rudimentary eyes, though a few had eye-sockets, and one or two boasted antennae-like feelers sprouting from the head.

Upon rounding a sharp bend in the river they suddenly heard a terrific roaring sound that totally obliterated the noise made by the stream. Grandon flashed his light ahead to learn the cause, then quickly ordered the paddlers to reverse, for directly ahead was a solid wall of falling water that churned the stream into foam and sent clouds of spray whirling toward them.

The momentum of the boat carried them dangerously close before they could stop, but Oro veered to one side, ramming the prow against the bank until the paddlers could make headway against the current. When at a safe distance they turned and made for the first fork, through which they found a safe passage around the falls.

That the wall of water they had so narrowly escaped was the bottom of the whirlpool in which the surface stream ended, Grandon could not doubt. He was therefore able to determine their distance from the cliffs with reasonable certainty, and calculated that within two hours at the most, they should be outside the valley.

He stood on the deck of the swiftly-gliding boat, turning his light this way and that, watching the blind monsters, and did not see the crouching thing on the top of the great overhanging shelf under which they must shortly pass—a thing without eyes, but with nose and ears abnormally developed, a thing with great cavernous jaws armed with a double row of razor-sharp teeth and with powerful claws that could rend and tear the toughest saurians limb from limb.

It was all over in an instant. Oro, looking ahead as they came under the overhanging bank, saw a great, sinuous bulk shoot downward, sweeping Grandon from the narrow deck and into the dark depths below.

They stopped the boat and hung near the spot for more than an hour, hoping that Grandon might have broken away from the monster, but saw only a few bubbles and something that looked like blood, both of which quickly disappeared in the foaming current. Frantically they sought him, making vain efforts to surmount the shelf and rescue their commander. At last, they sadly resumed their journey.

CHAPTER XV

FOR SEVERAL HOURS after she was seized and bound by Tholto's men Vernia lay with Rotha in darkness in the bottom of the boat. She could not see the members of the crew on either side, though she heard the rhythmic strokes of the paddles and caught scraps of the conversation.

Tholto acted as helmsman, holding his torch aloft with one hand while he swung the tiller with the other. From time to time she caught the glint of torchlight as he stooped to issue hoarse commands.

It was by sheer good luck that they happened on the channel which led them around the column of falling water. Several hours after they passed the falls, the interior of the boat was suddenly illuminated by daylight streaming through the front and rear entrance holes. After another hour of paddling Tholto placed one of his men at the helm and, untying the bonds of the two girls, put food and water before there.

He watched them silently while they drank—neither ate anything—then tied them once more and resumed his place on deck. The man who had acted as steersman distributed food and water to the others at their posts, half of the men paddling while the other half ate and drank.

Some time later—Vernia judged it to be about midday—the boat lurched violently, then settled down to a familiar, rolling motion that vividly reminded her of her trip with Grandon in the fragile toadstool.

Toward evening Tholto ordered half of the men on deck while the others redoubled their efforts at the paddles. In a few moments the keel grated sharply on gravel and the lurching ceased. Tholto threw Vernia over his shoulder as if she had been a sack of sabit food and carried her up on the bank while another of the men followed with Rotha.

The crew speedily unloaded, then dragged the lightened craft high on the bank. A fire was started in the lee of the rocky cliffs, and two of the men who had gone in search of meat returned with a large pink lizard which was cut up and roasted over the flames.

The cliff behind them was honeycombed with natural caves. Tholto chose the largest and best situated of these for himself, the next best for his men.

While the evening meal was being prepared, moss was gathered for couches by some, while others went in search of roots to make Zavorian wine. When the men had eaten their fill Tholto undid the bonds of both girls and ordered them to serve the kova. For cups they were provided with the shells of large bivalves. Rotha complied meekly, but Vernia refused with flashing eyes.

Tholto laughed. "I will tame you. Your lessons will start tonight."

Binding her hands and feet once more, despite her struggles, he carried her into the dark cave and threw her on the floor.

"Now lie there and reflect on the folly of resistance. Much good wine is being consumed, and I would not miss it. I will return presently, and if you so much as utter a whisper of protest you will learn why strong men fear the wrath of Tholto."

Many of the marsh-men had not tasted liquor for years, each man's abstinence dating from the time he had been captured by sabits. Small wonder, then, that they called for more and more. Tholto might have drunk to excess with the rest, had not other pleasures beckoned. As it was, he took only enough to intoxicate him slightly, then walked unsteadily into the cave where he had left Vernia bound and helpless.

Grandon's left arm was pinned to his body in the grip of powerful jaws that would have cut him in two had it not been for his armor, but the right arm was free; and drawing his sword, he plunged it again and again into the leathery throat.

He held his breath until it seemed that his lungs would burst, but the pressure of those jaws did not relax, and he prayed that his blade might find a vital spot before it was too late.

To his surprise, the water suddenly drained from his helmet and he tasted air. It was dank, foul air, charged with the offensive odor of putrefied flesh, but at that moment as welcome to his bursting lungs as a balmy, sweet-scented zephyr from a fern forest.

The monster ground its teeth ineffectually against Grandon's armor for a moment, then dropped him on a slimy floor and, putting its huge claw on his chest, gave vent to a horrible, gurgling roar.

The creature continued its disconsolate roaring, which was intensified a hundredfold by ringing, cavernous echoes, and Grandon noticed that with each roar the gurgling sound seemed more pronounced and the vocal tones grew weaker. Slowly the weight on his chest relaxed—slowly the creature sunk over on its side.

With a quick jerk he rolled from under the mighty claw in time to avoid the convulsive death struggles of the monster.

Taking his small flashlight from its pouch, Grandon surveyed the scene about him.

The lair of the great sightless carnivore was an arched cavern which ended at the water's edge in front of him and appeared to connect with a series of other caverns behind. As it was impossible for him to return under water the way he had come, Grandon turned his footsteps toward the caverns in the rear.

As he journeyed on and on through that intricate maze of dark, damp, dismal caves, it seemed that they only led him deeper into the bowels of the planet. Moisture dripped constantly from a thousand pendent, crystalline points overhead; presently, however, the floor slanted upward, the dripping ceased, and the puddles disappeared.

Quite suddenly and unexpectedly he emerged on the bank of a large stream. It looked like the one in which he had been plunged some time before, but he could not be certain.

What was that? Could it be that he saw a human being moving slowly along the bank apparently plucking and eating small fungus growths? And there, farther on, was another, and yet another, until only a short distance from where he stood the bank literally swarmed with them.

The creatures paid, no attention whatever to his flashlight. He turned it directly on the one nearest him and gasped in astonishment. It was manlike in form, but a grotesque caricature of the genus homo. It had long, bony webbed fingers and toes armed with sharp claws. The smooth, hairless skin was a mottled silvery gray in color, like that of a mackerel. But the face—Grandon was positive he had never seen anything so hideous in all his Zarovian wanderings.

It consisted, in front, of a broad, flat nose, and a mouth filled with huge ratlike teeth, and was minus chin, eyes or forehead. The hairless pate slanted straight back from the root of the nose and up from the base of the neck, ending in a conical point at the back. The ears were human in form, but easily four times as large as the aural appendages of any man Grandon had ever seen, and the creature kept them constantly in motion, presumably for the purpose of guarding against prowling enemies, or locating prey which it obviously could not see.

A stealthy sound behind him caused Grandon to wheel suddenly. There, not three feet from him, stood a creature similar to the one he had been watching. It sniffed the air in his direction for a moment with ears cocked sharply forward, then raised its head and uttered a long, mournful, wailing shriek.

Before he could sense the import of that cry he was surrounded by a chattering, excited group of creatures, seemingly materialized from the darkness around him. Grandon drew his sword and awaited the first act of hostility from that narrowing circle.

To his surprise, they made no move to attack him, but seemed only curious. One, a trifle bolder than the rest, reached out long bony fingers and touched his armor, then made a queer, cackling noise. Others, emboldened by the experiment of their comrade, pawed him over in turn, while the caverns rang with the echoes of their cackling.

Grandon grew tired of being manhandled, and attempted to push the things away from him with outstretched arms. They were apparently harmless, and he had not the heart to use his sword on them. He learned his mistake too late, for they took this movement as a sign of hostility, and a dozen of them pounced on him, bearing him to the floor, where, pinned beneath their combined weight, he could scarcely lift a finger.

Then, above the shrieking and chattering of his captors, he heard the familiar click of paddles against the metal sides of a boat. A bright beam of light flashed over him.

"Oro!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "To the rescue, Oro!"

Once more the rays of the searchlight played on the struggling mass of creatures. It hung there. A hoarse command sounded simultaneously with the noise of hollow metal scraping on stone. Then there was the clank of armored men running, followed by the sound of blows and unearthly shrieks of anguish. Two stalwart marsh-men helped Grandon to his feet as the last of his captors fled off, howling in dismay.

There was a brief but joyous reunion of commander and men on the bank, which was rudely broken into by a shower of missiles from out of the darkness, hurled with uncanny accuracy. Nearly every man in the company was struck, and several were bowled over, though their armor protected them from serious injury.

Grandon ordered everyone aboard, as he had no stomach for useless slaughter, and felt pity rather than animosity toward the sightless, feeble-minded creatures that had attacked him.

For some time after they pushed away from the shore, stones continued to rattle against the boat and splash in the water about it, but on rounding a curve in the stream the shower of missiles ceased and they saw no more of the strange creatures who hurled them.

An hour later they emerged from beneath a perpendicular cliff into broad daylight, shot a swift rapids, and proceeded on a beautiful, sparkling stream, dotted with verdant islets and flanked on either side by the great salt marshes.

The ocean breeze kept cane brakes constantly in motion, producing an odd, rattling sound that had a peculiar, depressing effect on Grandon. It seemed that these weeds were conspiring against him, as other forces had conspired, to keep Vernia from him. It was a relief when, toward evening, they reached the ocean coast and landed for a short time to give the men a chance to stretch their cramped muscles and steep some liquor.

While they built a fire of dried reeds and prepared the roots, Grandon and Oro explored the coast for some distance southward without finding any sign of those whom they sought. They accordingly had four of the men paddle them across the mouth of the river and traversed the coastline to the north for several miles. Both were hurrying along, looking for signs of a camp or a cooking fire, when the sharp-eyed Oro suddenly uttered an exclamation of surprise and ran down to the water's edge. Lying on the sand where it had been deposited by the breakers was an empty food sack.

"They came this way in the boat," he exclaimed.

They hurried back to the camp, and, after a hasty meal, embarked northward. The sudden, inky darkness of Venus descended before they had gone far, and the wind rose, making coastwise travel exceedingly difficult. Toward midnight they sighted a flickering light ahead. On coming closer they saw a large campfire surrounded by recumbent figures and, in silhouette, the curved, serpentine prow of an Albine boat.

After silently beaching their craft a little way from the camp, they deployed in a semicircle, then charged. To their infinite surprise they met with no resistance. The twenty sleeping men on the ground about the fire did not move a muscle.

Oro comprehended the situation at a glance. "Too much kova."

"But the girls," asked Grandon, "where are they? And where is Tholto?"

His question was partly answered by the sudden appearance of Rotha from the entrance of a nearby cave. With a smothered cry of thanksgiving she flung herself into the strong arms of Oro, who swung her off her feet in his exuberance of joy.

"Where is Vernia?" asked Grandon. "Tell me quickly—is she safe?"

Rotha hesitated as if fearful that he would strike her for her answer. "She is in that cave—with Tholto."

The cave she indicated was a short distance from the one she had just vacated. Grandon swung his spiked club free and, snatching a blazing brand from the fire, entered, followed by Oro and several others.

A solitary figure sat, cross-legged in the middle of the floor. It was Tholto. He waited their coming with bowed head.

"What have you done with her, false friend?" demanded Grandon.

Tholto removed his helmet and cast it to the floor.

"Kill me, Grandon of Terra," he said sadly, in a tone totally unlike that of Tholto the braggart. "I bare my head to a just executioner. I am not fit to live."

"Answer my question, accursed slave. Where is our Torrogina?"

"I do not know. I left her here for a short time while I went for a drink or two of wine. When I returned she was gone. My head was reeling from the drink when I entered. Many years have passed since I tasted liquor and I over estimated my capacity. I sank to the floor and dreamed a horrible dream in which I saw her torn to pieces by a huge animal. She is dead—dead, and I am the cause."

"The fool is drunk," said Oro. "Pay no attention to his ravings. She is probably concealed somewhere nearby."

After binding Tholto and setting a man to guard him, they searched the cave, calling loudly to Vernia, but there was no reply. Rotha was positive that she had not left the cave previous to Tholto's entrance, as the mouth was only a few steps from the place where she had served drinks to the men, and she could not have missed seeing her.

Grandon's attention was attracted by a yawning hole about three feet in diameter, which had previously escaped his observation, as it was partly concealed by a section of jutting rock. He substituted a torch for the nearly consumed fire brand and entered on hands and knees followed by Oro. The opening grew larger as they progressed, until they could stand erect.

Presently they emerged in the open air. They were in a fern forest, not more than a hundred feet from the camp, having come completely through the hill that screened it from the coast.

Oro stooped and, with a muttered exclamation, picked up some strips which had been torn from a sack and knotted together.

"She came this way," he said, excitedly, "for here are the strips with which Tholto bound her."

His words were followed by a cry of horror from Grandon which brought Oro to his side.

"The dream of Tholto," he said, brokenly. "It is a reality. Look!"

On the ground before them was a pool of freshly congealed blood. Beside it lay a small Albine gauntlet—the gauntlet of Vernia!

As Grandon sorrowfully retraced his steps followed by the horrified Oro, he pressed the little Albine gauntlet to his lips. With a dazed feeling of unreality he sat down before the fire. All night long he sat there, staring at the licking flames, unmindful of what went on around him.

Tholto and his stupefied companions, disarmed and bound by Grandon's men, lay in a long row under the watchful eyes of four guards. The others slept, with the exception of Oro, who sat across the fire with Rotha, replenishing it from time to time. The two conversed in awed whispers, speculating on the possible fate of the culprits.

The dawn found Grandon gazing at a heap of smoking embers. His four weary guards wakened their slumbering companions and lay down for a well-earned rest. The stupefied drinkers slept on, oblivious of the sounds that went on about them, as the awakened men prepared the simple breakfast of hot roots and stewed mushrooms.

Marsh-men are expert fishermen, and four of them rigged some crude but efficient tackle by tearing up several food sacks for line, using thorns for hooks and stones for sinkers. They fished along the shore only a few yards from the camp and soon had caught more than the entire company could possibly eat. The fish were boiled in the same manner as the roots and mushrooms, and made a most pleasing addition to the morning meal.

When all was ready, Oro fearfully approached his young commander with a shell of steaming roots, another of mushrooms, and a toothsome fish. Mechanically, Grandon took the food and tried to eat, but it seemed that every morsel choked him. He rose unsteadily to his feet, as his legs were cramped and numb.

Grandon walked straight to where Tholto lay, bound and helpless. He called two of the men. "Remove his armor," he said curtly.

The command was obeyed with celerity, while the soldiers crowded around to see how the culprit was to be punished. When his armor was removed the prisoner stood silently, almost impassively, waiting his death sentence.

"I should kill you, Tholto," said Grandon, "yet I cannot bring myself to slay a helpless prisoner. You have proved yourself a man without a sense of honor or gratitude. As such, you are not fit to wear the armor or bear the weapons of a soldier of Granterra. I found you a naked, primitive savage, and return you thus to your native jungle. You will have a fighting chance for life. It is a slender one, but must be preferable to immediate death from your point of view. Go!"

Tholto, no less amazed than those about him at this unexpected reprieve, climbed the rugged hillside and disappeared over the brow.

Meanwhile, most of the sleeping deserters had awakened. They looked about them in astonishment, and several tried unsuccessfully to rise, but the bonds held them.

"Are we to let them go, also?" asked Oro.

"Cut their bonds, and see that all are thoroughly awakened."

The men were forthwith released, and the more drowsy were shaken until completely awake, after which they all stood before him, the deserters unarmed, surrounded by the others.

"I extend complete amnesty to you who forsook your country in its hour of need, following the leadership of Tholto, on one condition. That is, that you promise to return at once to Granterra, tell Joto all that has happened, and enlist your services with those who are fighting for the supremacy of man in the Valley of the Sabits. Do you promise?"

To a man they assented eagerly.

"Give them their weapons and provisions," ordered Grandon. "Let them begin their journey now."

The craft was quickly loaded and pushed out to sea. When it had departed Grandon called his men around him once more.

"The quest that we began with some scant hope of success has ended in complete failure," he said sadly. "Last night when I learned of the death of our beloved princess I was ready and willing to die. One thought alone restrained me. I have a duty to perform. Far to the north of us live a people who have been enslaved and driven from their homes without just cause. They made me prince of their country, which they call Uxpo, and I fought in their behalf until Providence intervened and carried me away through a series of strange adventures. I cannot command you to accompany me on the journey I will begin today. Nor will I entreat you. If there be those among you who love adventure for its own sake, I extend the invitation to come with me and share the fortunes, or mayhap, the misfortunes of war. I make no promises, nor do I offer any rewards, though if Uxpo should win to freedom those who assisted in her deliverance will not go unremembered."

Oro was the first to speak. "Where Grandon of Terra leads, Oro follows," he said warmly.

"He fought for the freedom of our country," said another. "I am at your service, Grandon of Terra."

"And I—and I…" shouted the others in a chorus. "Lead us to Uxpo."

"Load the boat and make ready to push off," said Grandon. "We will start at once. Some three or four days' journey from here a great river empties into the Azpok. By following it we will come to Uxpo."

CHAPTER XVI

PRINCE DESTHO, now provisional emperor of Reabon, moved his slender, leonine form to a more comfortable position on the scarlet cushions of his throne and turned his countenance in the direction of Zueppa, as he smiled a doubting smile.

"Do you expect me to believe such a wild tale as this, knave?" he growled. "Authentic reports had it that she and her four guards were devoured by a reptile nearly a year ago."

"I swear by the sacred bones of Thorth that it is she and none other. Having seen her daily at the Imperial Court of Reabon, how could I forget her?"

"Granted that the woman you found resembles the Princess of Reabon, how could it be possible that if lost in the mountains of Uxpo she would be discovered wandering on the edge of the great salt marsh along the Azpok Ocean?"

"I can only recount the facts, your majesty, and let your own eyes bear me witness when you see her. We were just preparing for our evening meal when this girl suddenly appeared from the mouth of a nearby cave. At sight of the men and torches she turned and attempted to escape, but tripped over a creeper and two of our men caught her before she could rise. As she was clad from head to foot in shining brown armor, I at first took her for a youth, but upon removing her helmet, discovered her identity, while concealing my own. After ordering the captain to bring her here unharmed, I hurried ahead to apprise your majesty of the good news."

"Do any of the men know who she is?"

"None recognized her, and I was careful not to betray her identity until I had learned your majesty's intentions:"

"You have done well, Zueppa, and if she proves to be Vernia of Reabon you shall be highly rewarded. She must not, however, be brought here to the capital. The risk would be too great. Take her, instead, to my castle in my own kingdom, where every man is loyal to me, and where escape will be impossible. Matters of state delay me here, but I will be able to visit my castle in a few days. Take one of my swiftest motor vehicles and change the guard at the International Bridge before her arrival, posting only men from my own kingdom."

That evening, while Zueppa sipped his wine in the guard house at the international bridge, a small party of huntsmen arrived and presented their passports. With them were two prisoners, a beautiful girl clad in brown armor, and a huge, hairy marsh-man, whose sole article of attire was a loin cloth.

The young captain, after examining the passports of the huntsmen, looked at the prisoners. "And who are these?"

Vernia threw back her visor.

"The soldiers of Reabon do not question their rulers," she said.

The captain stared in open-mouthed amazement, then turned to a soldier who came up behind him.

"A striking resemblance to our princess," he muttered.

"She is an impostor," said the soldier. "Were we not warned of her coming?"

Vernia glanced imperiously at the two men before her. "Have you forgotten the homage due your princess? Procure me a fast motor vehicle at once and have done with your insolence if you would see the light of another day."

Both men quickly bowed, with right hand extended, palm downward. Then a figure darted swiftly up behind them and kicked the bowing captain over on his face. In a flash Vernia recognized Zueppa.

"How now, idiots?" he shouted. "You were warned by our worthy sovereign, Destho, yet you make obeisance before this impostor. Seize and bind her as you were ordered."

With a growl of fury, the hairy marsh-man leaped for the wily commander, but a score of soldiers rushed in and soon had him bound and helpless.

"Where did you get this brute, huntsmen?" asked Zueppa, looking at the still-struggling marsh-man.

"We captured him in the woods as he tried to steal our prisoner from us."

"Bring him to the castle of Prince Destho," he commanded. Then he lifted Vernia into his swift motor vehicle and sped away.

Some hours later the vehicle drew up before a massive gate. Zueppa answered the challenge of the guard and the lifting motors hummed sonorously. Vernia, half fainting, was taken from the vehicle and carried through a low arched doorway and along a dimly lighted corridor to a sparsely furnished suite of rooms where she was given over to the none-too-tender care of a tall, gaunt female slave.

The slave carefully locked the steel door and put the key in her belt pouch. For the first time in history, a ruler of Reabon was a prisoner within the borders of the empire.

On the evening of the sixth day, Vernia lay face downward on her couch when footsteps sounded in the corridor. Her armor and hunting suit had been taken from her and replaced with the scarlet apparel of a princess. She sat up as a man entered—Prince Destho.

"Greetings, fair cousin," he said, placing a tray before her and locking the door. Destho had always been handsome in a flashy sort of way. Now as he stood in the gold and scarlet raiment of a rogi of Reabon, Vernia marveled at the change in his bearing.

"Your insolence is in keeping with your treason," she said.

"A thousand pardons if I have offended you, but I could not properly make obeisance in your presence, since our positions are reversed. Last year, you ruled supreme in Reabon; today I rule. I expect from you the deference due your sovereign."

"Expectation is far from realization," she replied.

"We shall see. There are ways of taming a proud spirit which may not have occurred to you—but pray do not force me to speak of them. I have come to offer you a pleasant and honorable way out of your difficulty."

"Which is…?"

"It would have been easy to kill you, you know. My associates urged that course, but I would not listen to them. The throne was my ambition, but I sought more than that—to wed the most beautiful woman in all Zarovia." He raised his hand. "Hear me out, fair cousin; you cannot reverse history now. In ten days I will be Emperor of Reabon, while you are an expatriate. You know the laws that bind even the supreme ruler. The expatriate is an outcast, subject to seizure as a slave by the first free citizen who discovers him—or her. I would save you from that indignity."

"And what is this pleasant and honorable way out of the difficulty?"

"A marriage to your future emperor before the ten days are up. I will make you my empress, and together we will rule the mightiest empire in all Zarovia."

"So you would return the half of my birthright in exchange for my hand in marriage. It is a most magnanimous offer."

"It is far from being the worst I could make you. Where, on all Zarovia, could you find a man better suited to be your mate? My royal blood is on a par with yours. My bravery has been proved by the very coup that has placed you in my power. As for my looks, I assure you there are a thousand beautiful damsels who do not think me unhandsome and would jump at the offer I am making you."

"Your royal blood is an accident of birth, and your bravery is that of a man who seeks combat with those weaker than himself. I spurn your offer, traitor Destho. Pray, leave me now. Spare me the further insult of your insufferable presence."

Destho cleared the space between them and seized her roughly by the shoulders, forcing her back on the scarlet couch. "Take heed, lest the insult of my presence become a reality. I could…"

His words were cut short by the thunder of a heavy fist on the steel door. Furiously, he released the half-fainting girl and answered the summons, opening the door but a little way.

"How now, Zueppa?" he demanded angrily. "What is the meaning of this intrusion? Did I not give you explicit orders not to disturb me for other than the most urgent business?"

"It is because of your highness's command that I have come. A messenger has just arrived with startling news of a revolt in the kingdom of Uxpo. He awaits your presence in the audience chamber."

"Another revolt in Uxpo? By the bones of Thorth! Will that kingdom never cease to trouble us?"

He turned to Vernia. "I regret that I must leave you thus hastily, fair cousin, but I will return presently to continue our interesting discussion."

He bowed sardonically from the doorway, then closed and locked the door after him. Vernia heard the retreating footsteps of the two men grow fainter in the corridor, finally dying away in the distance. She sank back on the couch.

She had heard the conversation of the two men, but, at first, placed no significance on the fact that there had been another revolution in Uxpo. Gradually, however, it came to her that there could be but one man with the ability to lead the Uxponians to a successful revolt—Grandon of Terra!

Some time later the gaunt slave woman came in to remove the dishes containing her untouched meal. Though she had always been sullenly taciturn in the past, Vernia resolved to question her.

"Have you heard aught of a revolt in Uxpo, Marsa?" she asked.

The sour features of the woman brightened perceptibly.

"It is the talk of the castle," she replied. "The capital has fallen into the hands of the Fighting Traveks and every Reabonian soldier has been killed, captured or driven from the kingdom."

"You seem elated at the news," said Vernia, noting the unusually cheerful demeanor of her custodian.

"And well I may be," she answered, "for I am of Uxpo. I was captured and brought here a slave by the armies of your father, Emperor Margo. These are the most glorious tidings I have heard in years."

"No doubt the revolt was led by Bordeen, commander of the Fighting Traveks," said Vernia in as casual a manner as she could assume.

"By Bordeen, say you? Hardly, though no doubt he took part in it. Prince Thaddor, who now calls himself Grandon of Terra, reappeared as suddenly and mysteriously as he disappeared nearly a year ago. It is said that he wears a suit of brown armor that will turn even a mattork projectile and carries weapons of the same strange metal, which cuts steel as easily as a scarbo's blade cuts wood. Report has it, also, that he brought with him a bodyguard of twenty men from a far country, similarly garbed and armed. And I understand that yesterday he was formally crowned King of Uxpo."

"Would you be willing, Marsa, to do a favor for Grandon of Terra, the savior of Uxpo, if the opportunity offered?"

"I would willingly risk my life for him, even as he has risked his for my beloved country," replied Marsa fervently.

"And would you be averse to performing the task if it favored me as well?"

The brow of Marsa clouded. "You have always been the most bitter enemy of Uxpo. My husband was slain by your father's soldiers and I was enslaved by them. You, in turn, twice led your armies into Uxpo for conquest and pillage. You ordered the execution of our valiant King Lugi and sent Prince Thaddor himself to wear his life away in the marble quarries. A favor to you could not possibly be a favor to the King of Uxpo."

She took up the tray and turned to go.

"One moment, Marsa," entreated Vernia. "There is reason and justice in what you say; nevertheless, I am sure I can convince you that you will favor Grandon of Terra by assisting me."

Marsa paused. At length she said: "I must go now, but I will return presently. There can be no harm in listening."

"Return as soon as possible," replied Vernia as the slave inserted the key in the lock, "or you may be too late."

The dreary minutes dragged into hours, and hope was fast falling when footsteps sounded in the corridor and a key rattled in the lock. Vernia rose and moved toward the door with hope renewed—then paused in alarm—for the doorway framed the burly figure of Zueppa. To her surprise, he bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, then paused respectfully, waiting for her to speak.

"What spirit of irony brings you to make mock-obeisance at this unseemly hour?" asked Vernia.

"I come not in irony, your majesty," replied Zueppa, "but in all humility to crave forgiveness for the great wrong I have done my sovereign, and to offer my services."

"You could not choose a more fitting time for such an offer—and if it be genuine, for full forgiveness and perhaps an additional reward, should it be merited."

Zueppa softly closed the door.

"I betray a secret that would forfeit my life if divulged in this castle, when I tell you that I am in sympathy with Uxpo. Though my father was a Reabonian noble, my mother was from Uxpo, and it was with her and with her country that my sympathies always lay. One in this castle who is loyal to Uxpo had enlisted me in your cause. When you were my country's most bitter enemy, I plotted your downfall. But Prince Destho, has become even a worse enemy to Uxpo than you were, and now that the conditions are reversed I am willing to change my position for a royal promise—the sole conditions to be, first, a proclamation freeing my countrymen, and second, a pardon for myself."

"I have already promised another to free Uxpo," replied Vernia, "and I willingly add to it the promise of complete and unconditional pardon for you if you can do one of two things—either arrange my escape to Reabon before my year is up, or immediately send a message to Grandon of Terra, in order that he may come to my rescue."

"I had already thought of the former plan," said Zueppan "and made some preparations for it. I will leave now and send Marsa to you with clothing in which you will pass for a castle slave. When all is quiet I will return and conduct you through a secret passageway to a place outside the castle where I keep a swift motor vehicle. We will thus be able to reach the capital by morning."

"And Tholto, the marsh-man. I would have him released also."

"Tholto escaped from our guards as they were bringing him to the castle. No doubt he is back in his native haunts by now."

As he bowed low and departed, hope rose in the bosom of Vernia.

After Zueppa closed and carefully locked the door of her chamber, he made straight for the quarters of the slaves, but his way was blocked by a castle guard before he had gone a dozen steps.

"Out of my way, fellow," he roared, expecting cringing obedience.

The soldier met his frown calmly. "His Highness, Prince Destho, commands your immediate presence in the audience chamber."

Zueppa turned, without a word, and followed the guard. "It is the end," he thought. "Our plot has been discovered." In spite of his misgiving, however, he proceeded serenely to the foot of the throne and made obeisance. To his surprise, Destho received him cordially, descending from the dais to take him by the hand.

"Come, let us walk in the garden, excellent Zueppa," he said. "I would confer with you about our plans for the recapture of Uxpo. The stuffy air of the castle fogs my brain."

"I should be happy to learn," said Zueppa, preceding Prince Destho into the garden, "that your highness favorably considers my admonition to abandon the reconquest of Uxpo until established firmly on the throne. Much can happen in a short time, and it is possible…"

His words ended in a gasp of pain. Moaning feebly, he slumped to the ground, as a dagger sank to the hilt in his back. Destho tore the weapon from the wound and calmly wiped it on the clothing of the prostrate man.

"Thus should all traitors die. I have been lenient with you, after all, for you are a double traitor; first to your princess, then to me."

He turned and entered the castle. On reaching the audience chamber he summoned the captain of the castle guards.

"Has Marsa been confined in the dungeon?" he asked.

"She has, your highness, with heavy manacles and the spiked collar about her neck as directed."

He dismissed the captain with a nod, then picked up a long, flexible tube, one end of which passed into the floor behind the throne. On the free end was a bell-shaped contrivance which he held to his ear. He listened intently for some time, then smiled grimly, as he heard the sound of subdued sobbing.

The tube connected with a sound amplifier which was concealed behind a grating in the room where Vernia was imprisoned.

The plans of Prince Destho for the reconquest of Uxpo were materializing rapidly, as he breakfasted leisurely in the throne room of his castle several days later. He had sent no less than fifty hired assassins to slay Grandon, and, if this failed, had a huge army of thirty thousand men assembled in and around his stronghold, ready to march on the rebellious kingdom.

A courier, dusty and bedraggled, was hurried before the throne.

"How now, Torbo?" asked Destho, glancing down at the courier. "What tidings from Uxpo?"

"Grandon of Terra has been slain and his body lies in state at the royal palace!"

"Great news, if true. Who slew him?"

"I do not know, but it is rumored that the men who succeeded in the attempt were, themselves, slain."

"Did you see the body?"

"I did, your majesty, and the features were so horribly mutilated as to be unrecognizable. I also regret to inform your majesty that your chief assassin, Malcabar, was slain yesterday morning."

Destho turned to his councillors. "We will not disband our army yet," he said. "I must have a further confirmation of this."

A few minutes later, two of the castle guards entered, ushering between them a tall, bearded man in the uniform of a soldier of Reabon. All three made the customary salute before the throne, then they rose, and the two guards stepped back, leaving the tall soldier in the center of the floor.

"Whom have we here?" asked Destho, addressing one of the guards.

"His papers proclaim him one Xantol of Uxpo, resident helper of the spy, Malcabar, and a bearer of tidings for your highness."

Destho looked long and appraisingly at the soldier. It seemed that those black eyes were searching the usurper's very soul.

"Your tidings, Xantol," snapped Destho.

"I have been sent to inform your highness of a rumor being circulated in Uxpo, to the effect that Grandon of Terra has been slain."

"A rumor, say you? You bring us stale news, fellow. We have already been apprised that the villainous imposter is dead and that his mutilated body lies in state in the palace."

Destho turned to the guard. "Who signed this man's papers?"

"They are signed by Malcabar."

"By Malcabar? Let me see them."

He examined the papers carefully. "The writing and signature seem genuine," he said. "Send for that courier again!"

As Torbo reentered, bowing low, Destho snarled: "So! You found it expedient to lie to me, Torbo!"

"I lie to your highness?" exclaimed Torbo in surprise. "Surely it pleases your highness to jest with his humble servant."

"You told me Malcabar was slain yesterday morning. I have here a letter, written and signed by him last evening. Can the dead write letters?"

"If you have a letter from Malcabar, then indeed can the dead write letters, for I swear by the bones of Thorth that I saw him lead the attack on the usurper yesterday morning and a huge armored guard clove him from crown to chin."

Destho looked searchingly from Torbo to the soldier, and from the soldier back to Torbo.

"One of you lies, that is certain," he said, "and you may rest assured, both of you, that the guilty man will be discovered and dealt with for his perfidy."

"May I ask who brought the letter?" asked Torbo.

"I brought the letter," replied the soldier.

"And who are you?"

"Xantol of Uxpo, resident helper of Malcabar."

Torbo flushed angrily. "This man lies," he said. "Malcabar had no Uxponian helpers. All were men of Reabon, and all died with him yesterday morning."

"You were acquainted with Malcabar's assistants?" asked Destho.

"Every one of them."

"And you have never seen this man before?"

"I have seen him somewhere," replied Torbo, knitting his brows. "His face is familiar yet unfamiliar." He approached the soldier and scanned his features carefully. Then he burst into a loud laugh.

"Shoot me for a hahoe if this man wears not a false beard," he said, and to prove his statement he suddenly reached forward and plucked a handful of hair from the man's face.

The Uxponian whipped out his scarbo, but strong arms pinioned his own from behind, and, in a moment, he was deprived of his blade and stood helpless in the grip of the two burly guards.

"Pluck a few more feathers from this bird and see if you can identify him," said Destho.

"That is unnecessary," replied Torbo, "for I have recognized him already. He is Grandon of Terra!"

Had a thunderbolt crashed through the arched ceiling at that moment it could hardly have created more surprise. Destho was dumbfounded.

"Grandon of Terra?" he exclaimed. "But you told me that he was dead."

"I did not tell you that I saw him die," replied Torbo, "and this man here is unquestionably Grandon of Terra."

A gleam of triumph shone in the eyes of Destho at these words.

"You are more of a fool than I took you to be, Grandon of Terra," he said. "Perhaps even more of a fool than you took me for."

"It is possible that I surpass you in folly. You have, however, two other qualities on which I must yield you all honors."

"And those are…"

"Treachery and cowardice!"

"Away with him," Destho said. "Let him meditate on his folly in the darkness of the dungeon until we have use for him."

The burly guards hustled Grandon out of a side door and along a narrow passage to a winding stairway which seemed to lead into the very bowels of the planet, so long were they in descending. After manacling his wrists and ankles they pushed him into a dark, foul-smelling hole and slammed and fastened a heavy metal door which fitted so snugly that not the tiniest ray of light was admitted.

As he lay on the damp, slimy floor, Grandon pondered the words of Destho. The phrase "until we have use for him" was puzzling. After a short interval, two guards entered Grandon's dungeon, removed the manacles from his ankles, and led him up the spiral stairway.

They did not go all the way to the top, but turned off through a narrow doorway which Grandon judged to be about halfway to the ground level. A short walk along a dimly-lighted passage brought them to an underground chamber which looked to Grandon like a workshop or laboratory of some sort, for it contained several unusual appearing contrivances.

In one corner was a raised circular platform covered with a resilient material greatly resembling rubber. He noticed that there was a hole in the center of the platform, and that a pipe, evidently connected with the hole led from under it to a small motor which stood nearby. A huge glass bell was suspended by a pulley above the platform and a steel chair stood beside it. The only other articles of furniture in the room were a wooden chair and table on which were writing materials.

The two guards chained Grandon to the steel chair and, lifting him between them, placed him on the raised platform directly above the hole.

A moment later Destho entered. He looked at Grandon with a grim smile. Then he turned to the nearest guard.

"I see you have things in readiness. Now bring her imperial majesty and see that her face be veiled so that none may recognize her on the way."

Scarce had the guard left to do the bidding of his master ere Bopo, captain of Destho's private guards, entered. "Where is the document, dolt?" demanded Destho. "Have failed to prepare it?"

"Here," replied Bopo, drawing a scroll from beneath his garments. "I kept it hid, as your majesty commanded secrecy in the matter."

"Good. Let me have it."

Destho read the document hastily. Then he read it again more slowly.

"Are you sure this is the correct legal form?"

"I am positive, your majesty."

Destho placed the scroll on the table, then crossed the room and bowed politely as the guard returned, leading a woman whose face was heavily veiled.

Suddenly she flung back her veil and rushed forward with a little smothered cry, paying no attention whatever to Destho. Grandon's heart leaped to his throat at sight of her pale face and golden tresses.

"Vernia!" He would have risen, but the chains held him.

"My Grandon—my hero!" she cried as her lips found his and clung there, and her arms went about his neck. He tried to lift his manacled hands to smooth her hair as she buried her face on his shoulder, sobbing incoherently.

"But why did you come here alone—to certain death?"

Grandon whispered his answer in her ear. "Zueppa, though fearfully wounded, managed to reach me with tidings of your whereabouts. It would have been futile to bring my small army, so I came alone, disguised as the helper of an assassin who attempted my life!"

"Enough of this whispering!" said Destho, smiling as he tore her from her lover and led her to the chair beside the table.

"A pleasant surprise I prepared for you, fair cousin, was it not?" Destho said. "You have had your little emotional outburst. Now let us get down to business. I have a document here which needs only your signature to make it legal. Read it aloud, Bopo, that all may hear and bear witness."

Bopo took the scroll and advanced pompously to the center of the floor. He unrolled it with a flourish, cleared his throat, and read:

"A proclamation by her imperial majesty, Vernia, Princess of Reabon:

"On the twenty-fourth day of the eighth Endir in the four thousand and tenth year of Thorth, I, Vernia of Reabon, hereby proclaim and declare to all my subjects throughout the length and breadth of the empire that I have taken for my husband, and raised to the office of emperor, to rule over me and my people, the brave and illustrious Prince Destho.

"It is my command that copies of this proclamation be made and distributed to all parts of the empire without delay, and that the fifth day of the ninth Endir be set aside as a day for feasting and suitable celebration in honor of this momentous event."

He finished and handed the scroll to Destho, who spread it on the table before Vernia.

She looked up with flashing eyes. "Surely you do not expect me to sign such a ridiculous document?"

"You refuse?"

For answer she seized it and flung it from her.

"More temperament," said Destho, coolly, picking up the scroll. "You compel me to use persuasion."

He made a sign to the guard, who grinned broadly and, loosing the chain by which the glass bell was suspended, lowered it until it rested firmly on the elastic edges of the platform where Grandon sat, calm and immobile in the iron chair.

"It is plainly evident," said Destho, "that you have some regard for yonder doomed man."

Vernia started at his words.

"Though he is a rebel and traitor, you could have saved his life, merely by signing your name. As it is, you shall have the pleasure of witnessing his death struggles. Start the motor."

The burly guard crossed to the motor with a grin more broad than before, and pressed a button.

Vernia, peering intently through the glass, saw Grandon flinch slightly when the thing started. Then he compressed his lips and settled back as if resolved to meet his fate calmly. Presently she noticed that he was breathing convulsively with nostrils distended.

"Stop! You are killing him!" she screamed. "Stop, that terrible thing. I will sign. I will do anything."

Destho made a sign to the guard, who pressed another button and opened a valve, but not before Grandon's head had sunk limply forward. There was a loud hissing sound and he raised his head, gasping weakly.

"I thought you might be brought to reason, stubborn and headstrong as you are," said Destho with a smile of triumph.

He placed the scroll before her and she paused for a moment, for Grandon was looking at her through the glass and shaking his head emphatically. "I cannot do it," she said weakly.

"Very well," replied Destho. He turned to the guard. "Start the motor. There will be no stopping it this time."

"No, no!" cried Vernia. "Do not start it. I will sign."

Again Destho motioned for the guard to desist. Vernia held the scroll, half rolled before her. She looked at Grandon for a moment as if in silent farewell. Then she tore her eyes from his with a visible effort and resolutely affixed her name to the document.

Destho seized it eagerly and examined, the signature. Then he rolled it up, stuffed it in his bosom, walked to the motor, closed the valve and pressed the button.

Vernia, sensing his purpose, screamed frantically and ran to shut the thing off, but he intercepted her and forced her back in the chair.

"I am legal emperor of Reabon now," he said. "There is no more need for force, for my word is law. I now decree that this traitor shall die, and you, in company with your beloved husband, will have the pleasure of watching his death struggles."

CHAPTER XVII

WHEN THE GLASS BELL was lowered around high Grandon rightly guessed that the thing was intended either to torture or kill him—perhaps both.

He gritted his teeth, though he flinched when the guard started the motor. A roaring sounded in his ears. Were they pumping some sort of deadly gas into the bell? He could detect no unusual odor of any kind. Breathing, however, was rapidly growing more and more difficult.

It was then that he guessed the truth. They were pumping the air out of the bell! Fearful pains shot through his body as he gasped and struggled for breath. Suddenly all went black before him and his head drooped forward.

A moment later, he was revived by the sibilant inrush of air. He saw Vernia, apparently ready to sign the proclamation which would make her the lawful wife of Destho, and shook his head vigorously.

Though he could not hear what was said, he saw her refusal, the subsequent threat of Destho, and her final acquiescence.

"Don't sign!" he shouted, but she was looking away from him and his voice did not reach beyond the thick wall of glass.

It was this and the final treachery of Destho in again starting the motor that filled him with a consuming rage and aroused him from his passivity. With a burst of strength of which he had not known himself capable, he strained at his shackles. A chain parted—then another. His arms were free. He reached down and wrenched at the fetters which held his legs. Again the roaring sounded in his ears. A quick jerk freed his right leg. He twisted the chair from his left and swung it against the glass with all his might. A thousand tiny checks radiated from the point where it struck. He swung again. There was a crash and a hollow report like the crack of a tork as the air surged inward.

The guard stood ready to receive him with drawn scarbo as Grandon leaped out. Swinging the iron chair, he crushed the man's skull like an eggshell, and his scarbo clattered to the floor. The other guard, rushing to the assistance of his companion, met a similar fate.

Destho was dragging Vernia from the room. Bopo still faced Grandon, scarbo in hand. He hurled the chair, which caught the surprised captain amidships. Grandon picked up the scimitar-bladed scarbo of the guard and ran forward to intercept Destho.

With Grandon's blade threatening him, the usurper was forced to release Vernia and draw his weapon. The man was no mean swordsman and, for a time, the outcome was uncertain.

The Earthman fought in a blind fury. Gradually, his brain cleared and his stroke became more certain. He forced his antagonist to the wall and, with a dexterous twist, sent his scarbo clattering.

A look of alarm shone in the eyes of the amazed Reabonian prince. "Would you kill an unarmed man?"

"Surrender or…"

Before Grandon could finish the sentence the wily Destho dodged under his arm and ran through the door, calling loudly for help.

Grandon started after him—then paused hopelessly.

"Come," he said, taking Vernia's hand. "He will have a swarm of soldiers here in a few moments. We must try to find a hiding place."

They sped down the dim passageway, hand in hand. Ahead of them they heard footsteps and the clank of arms. A doorway on their left offered temporary haven, and into this they darted. Grandon held the door slightly ajar and watched. In a moment a dozen of the castle guards rushed past, followed by Destho.

"Now," he whispered. "We must go quietly."

Again they darted along the passageway until they arrived at the spiral stair. They had barely ascended to the ground level when a guard appeared. Grandon ran him through the throat, but not before he let out a shriek that brought a score of his comrades running.

There was nothing for it but to climb the stairway, and this they did, only to be spied by the foremost guard. He dashed after them, calling his companions to follow, and paid for his temerity with a split skull when he came up with them at the fourth level. His comrades, finding his body a moment later, set up an angry shout and redoubled their speed.

Before they reached the seventh level, Grandon was forced to turn and engage the foremost guard. The man proved a poor swordsman, and a quick thrust through the heart sent him back on his fellows, momentarily impeding their progress.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Crandon turned and again fled up the stairs with Vernia. They passed the eighth level before noticing that they were in a narrow tower overlooking the sloping roof. The tenth level was the last, and Grandon thrust Vernia into the tower room before turning to face their pursuers. They were fairly trapped.

The first foeman, a huge coarse-featured giant, felt the weight of Grandon's steel and toppled back with a groan. Another leaped over his body and took his place, only to go down before the bewildering swordplay of the Earthman. Then they tried rushing him two at a time, but as two men could not wield their scarbos simultaneously in the narrow passage, they quickly shared the fate of the others.

When they could no longer mount over their fallen comrades, they withdrew a little way and Grandon judged from the murmur of their voices that they were formulating another plan of attack. He took advantage of the lull in the fighting to strip a tork and belt from the nearest man. Then he lay down at the head of the stair with tork leveled and waited.

Suddenly he heard a familiar whining sound, followed by a terrific explosion that shook the floor. A mattork projectile! Could it be that they were shelling the tower? There followed another and another in quick succession—then a continuous roar, as though a hundred mattork cannon had gone into action.

Vernia called excitedly from the tower room.

"An army approaches through the forest. I can see their uniforms through the trees and they look like Fighting Traveks. Ah, they are Fighting Traveks! A company of them is charging through the camp while their mattorks shell the castle. A small band of men in Albine armor fight with them in the front ranks. Destho's troops were momentarily thrown into confusion, but now they are rallying! Oh, they will kill all the Traveks, for they outnumber them ten to one.

"Can you see who leads the Traveks?" asked Grandon, not daring to leave his post.

"He is a big man with a gray beard. He towers above his men, urging them on to battle with a voice that roars deep and strong!"

"Bordeen!" exclaimed Grandon. So the doughty commander had disobeyed orders. Evidently Oro and his twenty marsh-men fought with them.

"The army of Destho has rallied," continued Vernia. "They are closing in on the Traveks from two sides. They are I butchering them—it is terrible. Now the Traveks are retreating. They are cutting their way back to their comrades, but already half of their number has fallen. Now a new company charges to their rescue while the mattorks sweep the lines on both sides of them. The survivors have succeeded in reaching their comrades, but the army of Destho is surrounding them."

"The fools—the utter fools," moaned Grandon.

Again Vernia cried out in amazement.

"A new army approaches from the south. The camp is deserted on that side, all having gone to surround the Traveks on the north. A host of warriors in Albine armor is charging across the clearing. The army of Destho is rushing back to engage there and the men on the walls shower bullets on them without effect. They have clashed with Destho's men and cut them down like reeds. Not a single warrior in brown armor has fallen. Now the men on the wall are training mattorks on them. The mattork projectiles tear great holes in their ranks, yet they forge steadily ahead. I can see their banners now. They are inscribed with the word 'Granterra'!"

"It must be Joto," said Grandon. "Yet how could he have learned of our presence here?"

"It is Joto," cried Vernia, joyously. "He is fighting in the front ranks with his visor raised, cheering his men between blows and laughing as he fights."

"There is not another leader like him."

"Now the Traveks have rallied. They are shelling the batteries on the walls. They are cutting their way through the army of Destho."

"Would that I could help them!" cried Grandon.

"More warriors in brown armor are approaching," continued Vernia. "They are accompanied by an army of sabits. The men have mounted on the backs of the sabits and are charging the castle. The sabits are carrying them up and over the walls which they could not have scaled unaided. They are swarming everywhere. The sabits crush the defenders in their forceps and the mounted men cut them down with their swords. Now the walls and the courtyard have been cleared of defenders! The gate has been thrown open and they are storming the castle itself; the Traveks fighting side by side with the armored warriors."

Grandon was so engrossed in Vernia's description of the battle that he momentarily relaxed his vigil. He nearly paid for his carelessness with his life, for a tork bullet sang uncomfortably close to his ear, and a new company of guardsmen charged up the stairs. As he quickly returned the fire he heard a voice—the voice of Destho—on the level below. "Remember. Ten thousand acres of choice land to the man who slays him, but harm not the woman."

"Go back, fools," shouted Grandon. "Dead men have no use for land."

But neither his threat nor his bullets could stay them. The men who surged up the steps fired their torks as they came and carried long-bladed spears. He was compelled to retreat to the tower room where he found momentary safety by barring the steel door.

There was a shout of baffled rage, and a rain of blows sounded on the door. "It will hold them off for awhile—a very short while, I fear."

He was startled by a scream from Vernia. Turning, he beheld the ugly head of a red-mouthed sabit, peering in at the window. Behind it appeared the spiny crest of an Albine-armored warrior. Both squeezed through the narrow window and the warrior threw back his visor.

"Tholto!" exclaimed Grandon and Vernia simultaneously.

Leaping from his savage mount, the marsh-man prostrated himself before them, right hand extended palm downward.

"Tholto, your slave," he said simply.

Grandon, noting that the steel door was sagging from the terrific blows of those without, leaped forward with scarbo ready. Tholto followed, drawing his sword, and, as he did so, speaking a few words to the sabit in the tone-language. The creature responded by vibrating its antennae and took a place between them, directly in front of the door, where it waited expectantly with its head cocked to one side, much as a terrier waits for the leap of a cornered rat.

The door fell inward with a rending crash and a shout of triumph went up from the attackers. Then the sabit leaped, snapping to right and left with its powerful forceps and shearing a man in twain with each snap. With Grandon swinging his scarbo on one side and Tholto his sharp Albine sword on the other, the landing was cleared in a twinkling.

The bloodthirsty sabit plowed on down the stairway, and the death shrieks of the fleeing guards were terrible to hear as it caught up with them one by one.

Grandon searched for Destho among the corpses that littered the landing, but he was not among them. Evidently he had escaped or was numbered among the sabit's victims, whose shrieks still sounded from below at intermittent intervals.

A ringing cheer floated up from the courtyard, and Grandon looked down from the tower window. Far below him he saw a straggling line of Destho's soldiers filing out from the castle, weaponless, and with their hands held out before them in token of submission. A detachment of Traveks escorted them on one side, while a company of the brown-armored soldiers of Granterra marched on the other.

"The castle has fallen," said Grandon. "Let us descend."

They picked their way down the blood-soaked steps while Tholto ran ahead, calling his ferocious steed in the tone-language of the sabits. The mangled bodies that strewed the entire stairway mutely attested the terrible efficiency of the fighting monster.

Upon reaching the ground level they made their way toward the audience chamber, whence came the unmistakable sounds of heated argument.

Shouts of "Kill the traitor!" and "Behead the assassin!" were distinguishable above the clamor.

"Oh, what are they doing?" cried Vernia. "Let us hurry."

When they entered the audience chamber they found it jammed with a crowd of Fighting Traveks and Granterrites, mingled indiscriminately. As they weaved their swords and scarbos aloft, Destho, the object of their hatred, stood trembling with fright before the throne in the grip of two brawny Traveks. Bordeen, on one side, and Joto on the other, were attempting to quiet the angry mob.

"Wait, fools," roared Bordeen. "He has not told us where we may find Grandon of Terra and the princess. A dead man discloses no secrets."

"Torture him!" cried a brawny Travek.

"The secret is out," said Joto, "for Grandon of Terra approaches, and with him is the princess!"

At sight of Grandon and his fair companion the assembled fighting men sent up a shout that dwarfed their previous clamor to insignificance. A path was speedily cleared for the pair as they made their way toward the throne. Bordeen and Joto rushed forward to greet them, followed by Oro, Rotha and Tholto.

"I thought the hahoe of Reabon had killed you," said Bordeen huskily, tears of joy gleaming in his eyes. "We searched every dungeon and cell without a trace."

"A hahoe slays not a warrior so easily," said Joto, smiling broadly.

"The warrior was fairly cornered by the hahoes when you came so gallantly to the rescue," said Grandon. "How did you learn of our plight and how could you bring such a large army here without imperiling your people? The sabits may attack them during your absence."

"It was Tholto told us of the plight of the princess," said Joto. "We did not know that you had come here on the same mission as our own until informed by the Traveks. Tholto traveled unarmed and alone through the forests and the great salt marsh. There he built himself a crude raft with which he navigated the underground river. I came near beheading him before he convinced me that he was telling the truth. As for the safety of our people, there is no more danger in the Valley of the Sabits. Every sabit community has been subjugated and man rules supreme. We lead indolent lives in Granterra, for our sabit slaves work for us, hunt for us and even fight for us. My only fear is that we may degenerate through inactivity."

"And you," said Grandon, turning to Bordeen. "How came you to disobey orders?"

"As soon as you had gone," Bordeen said, "I thought of the odds against you and realized that your quest was hopeless. I called all the captains in council and explained the situation. To a man they voted to come to your rescue. We felt that, though we might not be able to reach you, we might at least disconcert those within the castle sufficiently to give you an opportunity for escape."

"You did nobly," said Grandon, "yet my heart bleeds for the gallant soldiers who have sacrificed their lives today."

There was a sudden outcry from the direction of the throne. The wily Destho, taking advantage of the fact that all eyes were riveted on Grandon and Vernia, had broken from his guards and bolted for the door.

A dozen soldiers ran to intercept him, but to no purpose. He ran down the hallway and disappeared from view around a corner.

Grandon, Bordeen and Tholto, in hot pursuit, were only a few seconds behind him, yet when they turned the corner no one was in sight. The hall was lined with doorways, and Grandon plunged into one while his comrades entered the others. He found himself in an empty room, lighted by a small window which stood open. Suddenly he heard the roar of a motor vehicle in the yard outside and ran to the window. He shouted a warning to the soldiers outside, but too late. The vehicle, gathering momentum with every revolution of its huge single wheel, shot through the gate and down the road before the astonished soldiers realized what it was all about. They sent a volley of tork bullets and curses after it as it disappeared around a curve in the road.

Calling his comrades, Grandon returned to where Vernia awaited them in the throne room. "We must hurry to Reabon at once," he said. "Destho has escaped."

"Did he take the proclamation with him?" asked Vernia.

Bordeen spoke up. "He could not have taken the proclamation with him, because we deprived him of all papers in his possession when he was made prisoner. I have them with me now."

He produced a bundle of papers which Grandon scanned eagerly. They were all letters from his spies and fellow conspirators. The proclamation was not among them.

"Your searchers must have overlooked it," said Grandon, "for it is not among these papers."

"That is possible, of course, but not probable," replied Bordeen. "He was searched thoroughly."

"Perhaps he disposed of it in some other way," suggested Joto.

"We may be able to find out from some of his officers, if any of them have been captured alive," said Grandon.

"Most of those left in the castle surrendered," Bordeen said. "Let us see what they have to say."

A dozen of them were produced forthwith and questioned. All declared that Destho had dispatched a messenger to the capital in a swift motor vehicle shortly before the attack by the Traveks. It was understood that the messenger was conveying an important document to Bonal, Prime Minister of Reabon.

"Copies will have been made and distributed and broadcast through the empire by this time," said Bordeen. "What was the nature of the proclamation? No doubt it favored Destho in some way or he would not have rushed it to the capital."

Grandon ground his teeth. "It favored Destho, all right, for it made him Emperor of Reabon and the husband of Vernia."

Joto laid his arm across Grandon's shoulders.

"My friend," he said gravely, "be not so downcast, I beg of you. Your enemy has the proclamation, but you still have Vernia of Reabon, and an army that is all but invincible. Let us march to Reabon at once."

Grandon turned to Vernia. "With your permission." A smile overspread her face as she calmly replied: "I will go with you. Let us start at once."

CHAPTER XVIII

IT WAS A picturesque procession that started for Reabon shortly after midnight. Destho's two-score motor vehicles and a number of carts had been pressed into use. All were equipped with bright searchlights, fore and aft, that lighted the road and reflected brilliantly from the armor and weapons of the marching men.

Grandon rode in the lead with Bordeen and Joto, commanders of the two armies whose victory had turned to defeat by the laws of the empire. Princess Vernia and Rotha followed in the car immediately behind them.

The Earthman rode in moody silence, nor did his two companions interrupt his thoughts. As the motors were throttled down to conform to the speed of the marching men, their progress was quite slow. Morning found them a good half day's march from the capital.

Grandon was startled by a sudden cry from the driver. At the same time their vehicle came to a full stop, and shouts of wonder and alarm echoed from without. He drew his scarbo, and leaped from the car. To his surprise he beheld a huge ball, more than fifty feet in diameter, blocking the road. Many of the soldiers, as well as occupants of the other cars were running toward it.

"What is that thing?" he asked a young Travek.

"I do not know, your majesty," the man replied. "They who first saw it say it fell from the sky."

Grandon approached the globe and examined it curiously. It appeared to be constructed of a metal similar to asbestos, criss-crossed with a network of wires. Near the center of the side he faced was a circle of metal that suggested aluminum.

The circle began to turn, and a murmur of surprise went up from the watchers.

Grandon's first thought was that a spaceship from Earth had reached Venus—but an instant's reflection made him reject this solution. Earth was probably not even a habitable planet now, and might not become so for millennia to come. Could this be from Mars, which also had a scientific culture now?

The circle was revolving more quickly now, and projecting from the sphere. Vernia came up beside the Earthman, Rotha following her. "What is it?"

"I don't know. It may be some new implement of war. You had best go back into the car until we find out." She complied quite meekly, he thought, as he turned to the soldiers and ordered them to stand back a hundred yards or so.

Now a screwlike cylinder projected from the globe for more than five feet. He could plainly see the threaded sides as it hung there, twenty-five feet above his head. It fell forward with a loud click and hung suspended by a thick hinge, disclosing a dark hole. From this hole, a ladder of flexible material dropped, one end nearly touching the ground.

Now the figure of a man in a spacesuit clearly similar to American design appeared and clambered down the ladder. He stood there a moment, looking at Grandon, then removed his helmet, and the Earthman recognized the features of Dr. Morgan.

"How are you, my boy?" he asked cordially.

Grandon snapped his fingers and grinned back. "You built another space-time vehicle, I see, Doctor—or did Vorn Vangal do it?"

Morgan smiled. "I wondered if you would remember. This is Vorn Vangal's work, operated by telekenesis like the Olban airships. Watch."

Even as he spoke, the huge globe moved upward from its resting place and hovered a hundred feet above their heads. "Suppose we climb into that vehicle of yours and I'll tell you the news while we ride to Reabon."

Grandon's reply was interrupted by a cry from several of the men and saw that they were looking to the westward; he turned to behold a huge fleet of Olban airships bearing down on them. The ships were many times larger than the Olban craft he'd seen, but were constructed on the same general principles. Each airship had ten shining glass cabs and bristled with mattorks, projecting fore and aft, on both sides and below.

The fleet came to a dead stop above them. Then one airship descended to the spot where the globe of Dr. Morgan had rested a moment before, and a set of aluminum stairs which had been telescoped on the deck was elongated and flung over the side, reaching to the ground.

Two men descended. The foremost was clad in scarlet apparel, trimmed with gold and glittering with precious jewels. His feet were incased in sandals of the softest frella hide, and he wore a turbanlike headpiece, also of scarlet ornamented with gold fringe, and set with an enormous glittering ruby that blazed from the middle of his forehead. His companion was more soberly garbed in purple trimmed with silver and also ornamented with jewels.

Grandon recognized the handsome, smooth-shaven youth in scarlet as "Harry Thorne"—actually, the Martian, Borgen Takkor, who had followed him to Venus. The man in purple was Vorn Vangal. At the same moment Thorne saw the doctor and ran forward, embracing him with a glad cry of recognition. He greeted Grandon with a warm hand-clasp.

It was not necessary to introduce Dr. Morgan and Vorn Vangal.

"Where is this beautiful princess of yours, Grandon?" asked Dr. Morgan. "I am anxious to meet her."

"And I also," supplemented Thorne, "though there is a certain princess back in Olba whose beauty I have not seen matched on three planets."

"I think," smiled Vorn Vangal, "you will find that opinions are quite likely to vary on such things as the beauty of a woman."

Grandon could not find the heart to reply.

"What ails you, man?" asked Thorne. "You look as if Vangal here had just pronounced sentence of death on you."

"Buck up, my boy," said Dr. Morgan. "You haven't lost her yet."

"Haven't lost her? Didn't she sign a marriage decree making Destho her husband and Emperor of Reabon?"

He led them to Vernia's vehicle. She received them graciously, with all the dignity and poise of a born princess.

"And now," said the doctor when the presentation was concluded, "where are Bordeen and Joto?"

"What do you know about Bordeen and Joto?" asked Grandon in surprise.

"You forget that I have been in telepathic rapport with you up to the moment I landed," replied the doctor. "I have broken rapport now because it is unnecessary."

They found Bordeen and Joto with several of the captains, examining the Olban airship, while members of the crew eyed them rather suspiciously from the deck above.

Introductions over, Harry Thorne invited them aboard. "Ride with me to Reabon," he said. "We have every comfort and convenience and plenty of room for all."

He led them up the aluminum steps and along the deck to the foremost glass cab. Bordeen called down to his captains to resume the march, and the ship rose majestically as they entered the snug, glass-inclosed room, with its luxurious cushioned seats and thickly carpeted floor.

When all were seated a slave brought them steaming liquor in golden cups. "And now that we are all assembled," said Harry Thorne, "I should like to ask Grandon why we are going to Reabon and what we are supposed to do when we get there."

Grandon drained his cup and handed it to a waiting servant.

"The Princess of Reabon has been compelled to sign away her fortune and her hand. Speaking for myself and my Fighting Traveks, we go as her escort, to do her bidding no matter what may arise. To me it is almost inconceivable that she will meekly submit to Destho; yet if that be her intention, neither I nor any of my men will raise a hand to stay her. If, on the other hand, she should, at the last moment, decide to free herself from Destho and regain her lost throne, we will be ready to fight for her to the last man."

"You have spoken for the warriors of Granterra and their commander as well," said Joto.

"And for the Imperial Air Patrol of Olba, if I and my men may be included," declared Harry Thorne.

"It seems," said the doctor smiling, "that the princess does not lack allies. As to whether she will call on any of you or not—who can say? A woman's mind…"

"Is past understanding for any man, on this planet or another," interrupted Vorn Vangal. "However, I do not believe she will call for assistance. That proclamation, once signed, is binding alike on herself and her subjects. She might nullify any ordinary proclamation by issuing another, but in this case such a proceeding is quite impossible. She has named another to rule over her and her subjects; he, and he alone, can now nullify the proclamation."

"In that case," said Joto, "there might be ways of persuading him."

"A worthy suggestion, Joto" proceeded Bordeen, "but hardly practical; we cannot cope with the mighty armies of Reabon for any long period of time. The army of Reabon is the largest and best equipped in all Zarovia, and her soldiers know not the meaning of fear. Should Vernia decide on a revolt against the new emperor we could undoubtedly get her out of the country alive—a revolt against the emperor would make her a traitor and an outcast. Under the constitution of Reabon, which has prevailed for ages, she could never hope to regain her throne and scepter. When we reach Reabon she must choose between freedom as an outcast from her country forever, or the half of her throne which the proclamation still allows her, and virtual slavery to her emperor."

"Vorn Vangal speaks the truth," said Bordeen slowly, "for well do I know the unchanging laws of Reabon and the regard in which they are held by every subject of the empire."

"In that case," said Dr. Morgan, "it seems that further discussion of the problem is futile. It rests with her majesty to choose, and with us to act only when she has made her decision."

"Quite right," agreed Thorne. "And now that the subject has been dispensed with for the present, Doctor, suppose you tell us a few things I have been itching to find out ever since I received your telepathic summons to meet you here, through Vorn Vangal. You have had quite an advantage over Grandon and me, you know, being cognizant of our every moment since we left the Earth, while we know nothing of what you have done since we last saw you."

"As we are nearing Reabon I will only touch on a few points that may be of interest to you," said the doctor. "Both of you will be surprised to know that the Zarovian men who exchanged bodies with you have committed suicide, destroying your Earth bodies by leaping from a precipice. I did not communicate the reason to you, but it will become apparent from what I am about to relate.

"The Olban prince whom you represent, Thorne, and Prince Thaddor knew something of the exploits of both of you on this planet. The former became despondent while the latter grew insanely jealous of Grandon. They formed a suicide pact, and stole away together one moonlight night to carry it out. Their—or more exactly, your—mangled bodies were found the next morning at the foot of the cliff."

Morgan sighed. "In a few days I start my return journey to Earth. I will be happy to have either or both of you join me if you care to do so, though I fancy that Harry Thorne will not care to leave, and that Grandon's decision to go or stay will depend on what takes place in Reabon today. When I am ready to start I will let you know, and you will have until then to make up your minds."

"Mine is made up right now," said Thorne. "You couldn't drive me away from this planet with a pack of man-eating hahoes. There's a little girl back in Olba…"

"Tell us about her, and some of your adventures," said Grandon.

They were interrupted by a call from the lookout. Thorne stepped out for a moment—then returned. "My story will have to wait," he said, "for we have arrived in Reabon."

CHAPTER XIX

Grandon and his companions, peering over the rail of the airship, saw that they had indeed arrived at the capital. Immediately below them was the procession consisting of a string of vehicles and carts now led by the one carrying Vernia, and accompanied by the two small armies of Uxpo and Granterra, the latter with its strange, fierce sabit cavalry, the like of which had never been seen before in Reabon.

From their point of vantage they could see that the city walls were lined with spectators, as were both sides of the main thoroughfare leading to the palace. The gates were slowly lifted, their powerful motors humming sonorously, as the vehicle of the princess approached.

When it passed beneath the gates a mighty cheer went up from the assemblage and the colors of Vernia flashed out suddenly, waved by a hundred thousand hands. Then, as if in obedience to a single word of command, every man, woman and child in that vast multitude bowed low, with right hand extended palm downward.

The crowd that lined the broad avenue, soldiers and civilians alike, remained on bended knees until the vehicle of the princess passed them, then rose and waved her colors once more.

As the triumphal procession approached the palace gates the throngs rose, and the inmates, from the highest to the most lowly, did homage.

A golden palanquin carried by four kings greeted the vehicle as it arrived at the palace steps. Two slaves parted its scarlet curtains and Vernia stepped within, motioning Rotha to follow. The curtains fell back in place and the multitude rose and cheered vociferously as the palanquin with its imperial burden was carried through the palace doors.

The air fleet, which had been hovering above the palace grounds, slowly descended. As Grandon and his companions reached the foot of the aluminum stairs, one at a time, they were met by a palace guard who inquired their names and titles and assigned a slave to each man to conduct him to his quarters.

Grandon had been amazed by the size and beauty of the imperial palace as viewed from without, but even that marvelous sight did not prepare him for the glory and magnificence he beheld within. As he followed his guide, a beardless youth clad in the purple of nobility and evidently serving as a sort of page while learning the customs of the court, Grandon gazed in wonder and admiration at the rich decorations and furnishings. Even the corridors through which they passed were paved with blocks of agate and jasper, polished like glass and faultlessly fitted together, while the sides and ceiling were of alabaster inlaid with designs in pure gold and set with mural panels done in oil and rimmed with platinum, each one a priceless work of art.

At length they came before a door of highly polished wood of a reddish hue, studded with bolts of gold. On each side of this door stood a soldier attired in the brilliant raiment of the imperial guard and armed with tork, scarbo, and broad-bladed spear.

Both bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, as Grandon came before them. Then one rose and flung the door wide and the other drew back a heavy scarlet curtain behind it.

Grandon entered, followed by the page. The curtain fell behind them and the door was softly closed. The room they were in had evidently belonged to a huntsman and warrior of no mean accomplishments. Its paneled walls were hung with weapons and trophies of the chase and battlefield, and skins of marmelots and ramphs, magnificent specimens, were flung on the floor. A ramph, carved from the red wood and supporting a round top of polished crystal, formed a huge table in the center of the room.

Two chairs, one on each side of the table, were cut from the same red wood to represent kneeling giants holding the curved scarlet cushions that formed the seats and backs.

The room was lighted by two large windows that reached from floor to ceiling, and opened on a private balcony overlooking the palace garden.

Immediately adjoining this room, and separated only by an arched doorway with scarlet hangings, was another, even more luxuriously furnished and elaborately decorated. It was lighted, as was the first, by two enormous windows reaching from floor to ceiling. Between them was a massive sleeping shelf over which hung a scarlet canopy with a golden fringe at its edge. Two chairs, a table smaller than the first, and three huge chests or wardrobes completed its furnishings.

Grandon's guide led them directly through this room to a magnificent bath which formed the third and last unit of the suite.

The ablutions over, the page provided him with a suit of scarlet apparel from one of the huge wardrobes, and a slave brought a tray containing a pot of fresh-brewed kova and an endless variety of choice viands.

Grandon invited the page to participate in the feast, but he declined with thanks, saying it was not seemly that he should eat at the same table with royalty.

"You have been employed in the palace for some time, have you not?"

"For nearly two years, your majesty."

"Ah. Then perhaps you can tell me who formerly occupied this suite."

The page looked at him in amazement.

"Can it be possible that you do not know whose rooms these were?" he exclaimed. "This is the private suite of Emperor Margo, the mightiest of all emperors of Reabon and sire of our beloved Princess Vernia."

Grandon was dumbfounded. "Where is the new emperor named by the proclamation of the princess?" he asked. "Where is Prince Destho?"

"The Imperial Proclamation will not be read until high noon today. Prince Destho is in the palace in his own suite."

There was a rap at the door and the page hastened to answer it. In a moment he admitted Bonal, Vernia's pompous prime minister. That portly individual bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, then stood stiffly erect and delivered his message.

"It is the command of her Imperial Majesty, Vernia, Princess of Reabon, that Grandon of Terra, King of Uxpo, attend her at once in the audience chamber."

Grandon followed the officer through a maze of corridors and passageways, then through an arched doorway between two guards who saluted stiffly as he passed, and found himself in the audience chamber.

The door through which he had entered was at the right of the throne—a door which royalty alone was privileged to use. He was escorted to a position among the scarlet-clad members of Reabonian royalty, from which he had an excellent view of the entire hall.

He could see Bordeen, Vorn Vangal and Dr. Morgan standing with the purple-clad nobles. As the doctor wore a purple uniform it was apparent that he had been created a noble of Reabon.

Below them in lines of the blue-clad commoners he could make out Oro and Rotha, and the uniforms of many Fighting Traveks as well as the glistening armor of the Granterrites. Across from him, clad in the scarlet of royalty, he saw Harry Thorne, Joto, and somewhat apart from them, the triumphantly grinning Prince Destho.

The buzz of conversation ceased abruptly as the scarlet curtains that surrounded the throne slowly parted and slid majestically back to the wall in shimmering folds, announcing the coming of the princess.

Then the massive doors at the end of the hall swung open and the imperial procession entered, headed by the four kings who bore the palanquin, and followed by Orthad, Supreme Commander of Reabon, who carried on a scarlet cushion the huge jeweled scarbo that was the scepter of Reabonian authority.

After him came a hundred members of the Imperial Guard with gorgeous uniforms and shining weapons, who ranged themselves in two straight lines reaching from the foot of the throne to the end of the hall.

Then, for the first time, Grandon saw how a ruler of Reabon mounted to the throne.

Orthad presented the imperial-scarbo which she took from the cushion and rested across the arms of the throne. Her gaze swept the assemblage and her eyes rested for a moment on Grandon. But it became plainly apparent in a moment that Vernia had no intention of asking assistance, for she summoned Bonal, her prime minister, and ordered him to read the proclamation.

As Bonal faced the crowd and unrolled the document with an exaggerated flourish, Grandon looked across at Prince Destho, and noting the look of triumph in his dark eyes with difficulty restrained himself from leaping across that narrow space and throttling the man.

The prime minister stepped to the edge of the dais and read:

"A Proclamation by Her Imperial Majesty, Vernia, the Princess of Reabon.

"On the twenty-fourth day of the eighth Endir in the four thousand and tenth year of Thorth, I, Vernia of Reabon, hereby proclaim and declare to all my subjects throughout the length and breadth of the empire that I have taken for my husband, and raised to the office of emperor, to rule over me and my people, the brave and illustrious Grandon of Terra.

"It is my command that copies of this proclamation be made and distributed to all parts of the empire without delay, and that the fifth day of the ninth Endir be set aside as a day for feasting and suitable celebration in honor of this momentous event.

"Vernia, Princess of Reabon."

Grandon could scarcely believe the testimony of his own ears; a glance at Prince Destho showed that he was no less amazed.

A ringing cheer broke from the throats of the vast multitude: "Long life to Grandon of Terra, Emperor of Reabon!"

Grandon stood still until a young prince plucked at his elbow and whispered: "Step before the throne."

He followed this sound advice and waited, stiffly erect, while Vernia descended and gave the imperial scarbo into his keeping.

"Mount to the throne," she bade him in a whisper, "and place the scarbo across the arms as you saw me"

Suddenly, she paused with a scream of terror. "Look behind you—quickly!"

He whirled in time to see Destho, his face contorted with rage and his scarbo descending in a shimmering arc. There was no time to parry the blow; Grandon leaped aside, then caught the blade with the imperial scarbo, twirled it and sent it clattering to the floor.

His weapon gone, Destho turned and sprinted for a side door. Soldiers ran to intercept him, but before he reached then a man attired in a bloody, tattered uniform leaped out from the ranks of the commoners and caught him by the beard. "Thus should all traitors die!"

As the words rang clear above the tumult, a knife flashed in the hand of the soldier, then thrust into the breast of Destho.

Grandon arrived to see the plotter lying on the floor with bloody froth issuing from his mouth and trickling down on his wiry beard. His assailant had fallen across his prostrate body, and Grandon recognized Zueppa. The wound inflicted on Zueppa by the man he had just slain had been reopened by his exertion. In a moment both were dead.

Four soldiers removed the bodies and order was restored with surprising celerity. Again Grandon moved to the foot of the throne where Vernia awaited him, wide-eyed and trembling. He took her hands in his for a moment, then she resolutely bade him proceed.

Upon his return the four kings had prostrated themselves on the steps leading to the throne in accordance with the customs of their ancestors. Grandon turned to Vernia. "I am emperor now, am I not?"

"Assuredly, my lord."

"And my word is law?"

"So long as it does not conflict with the written constitution of Reabon."

"Is this matter of mounting to the throne on the backs of one's vassal kings written into the constitution?"

"No. It is a custom that has been observed for generations and signifies the complete submission of the heads of the various kingdoms."

"Then it shall be abolished. I expect loyalty from my subjects, but not abject servility."

Then, to the surprise of the four kings, he bade them rise and stand, each man on the step he occupied, two to the right and two to the left. Thus attended, Grandon mounted to the throne while the spectators looked on in amazement.

When he had taken his seat with quiet dignity and rested the scarbo across the arms of the throne, Vernia mounted and bowed before him with right hand extended palm downward—an example which was followed by the entire assemblage. It was indeed a day of surprise for the good people of Reabon, for no sooner had she knelt before him than he, in violation of an age-old custom which decreed that the empress should sit at the feet of her lord, swung the scarbo to one side and lifted her up beside him on the throne.

"You shouldn't have done this," she gasped. "My place is—"

"Custom be hanged!" he responded, and there, in full view of that vast multitude, he kissed his bride full upon the lips.

The crowd responded with a resounding cheer. "A long and happy reign to our emperor and his empress!"

Then the shimmering scarlet curtains crept around the throne, and Grandon forgot all else when two soft arms stole around his neck and Vernia's fluffy head nestled on his shoulder.

"I don't understand about the proclamation yet," he said, at length. "How and when did you manage to change it?"

"It was changed before I affixed my signature," she said, "else I should sooner have died than sign it. While Destho's attention was momentarily drawn to you I crossed out his name and substituted yours. I then allowed the scroll to roll half downward, as if by accident, and when he turned he saw that I was signing and, happily, never bothered to unroll it again!"

At a loss for suitable words to express his admiration and adoration, Grandon sought refuge in banality. "You wonderful little woman," he said.

At midnight, two weeks later, Grandon and Vernia stood on the roof of their palace watching the movement of a metal cylinder that was slowly screwing itself into place in a huge sphere of asbestos and steel.

Bordeen had left that day for Uxpo with the Fighting Traveks. Oro, Rotha, and Tholto had accompanied Joto and his Granterrites back to their people in the Valley of the Sabits, and Harry Thorne and Vorn Vangal had flown for Olba, as the former Martian was anxious to be with a certain beautiful princess who awaited him.

They had bidden Dr. Morgan good-by after helping him into his ponderous diving suit, had watched him clamber aboard, draw up the ladder and close the cylindrical door, and now waited to see his remarkable interplanetary vehicle begin its journey back to Twentieth Century Earth.

At length the cylinder clicked into place, and Grandon signaled two attendants, who flashed a powerful searchlight on the sphere.

Slowly it rose, rocking gently at first like a toy balloon on a flexible wand. Then, with a suddenness that was appalling, it shot swiftly skyward. The searchlight swung upward, groped about for a moment, making a flashing spot of light on the fleecy clouds, and then found its objective. In that incredibly short time the sphere had traveled so far as to have the diminutive appearance of an orange. A moment later it was but a tiny pin-point of white. Then it disappeared.

Grandon ordered the light shut off and turned to go, when Vernia laid her hand on his arm.

"Look," she said. "Your world and your moon."

He looked, and for a brief moment was vouchsafed the glorious spectacle of the Earth and her satellite, through a break in the clouds—the most brilliant and beautiful sight in the night-time of Zarovia.

Then he turned to the infinitely more lovely vision beside him, and together they descended the stairs.

THE END

Prince of Peril

First Published 1930

Contents

FOREWORD

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

FOREWORD

Many people have asked me how I came to write "The Swordsman of Mars," "The Outlaws of Mars," and "The Planet of Peril," and have wondered why the character of Dr. Morgan appears in all of them. "It was all right for the first story," one reader complained, "but it begins to get a bit thick the third time. I hope you're not going to do it again." Another thought that Dr. Morgan really belonged in the series, but that there wasn't enough of him; I should justify his continuance by having him play a more important role in the plot.

As an author, I agree with both of these critics. Dr. Morgan either should have been dropped, or should have a more active and vital role; and I certainly would have taken one of these alternatives in the second novel, "Outlaws of Mars," were this series really my own to work out as I pleased.

You see, while the name "Dr. Morgan" is fictitious, the character is not. It was quite by accident that I literally dropped in on him one day while deer-hunting in the mountains. It was a cloudy day, and I lost my bearings. I'd been foolish enough to forget my compass, so I climbed the highest prominence to orient myself.

If you have ever met me, you will know that these were not tremendous mountains. Now that I'm letting you in on a long-kept secret, I must confess to further deception. If you will re-read the opening chapters of the preceding books, you will see that while I've given the impression that Dr. Morgan's retreat was amidst high mountains, I've never said anything definite about the height. There were high enough for my own purposes of sport and exercise, and Dr. Morgan's purposes of isolation, but you may have been led to overestimate their eminence.

I had all but reached the summit I was approaching, when my feet suddenly slipped from under me. Gun and all, I crashed through something which felt and sounded like glass, and struck a hard, concrete floor. My right leg crumpled under me, and all went black.

When I regained consciousness I thought I was in a hospital, for two men in white garments were working over me.

The younger man I took to be an interne. The other was indeed a doctor, as I was to learn. He was of gigantic stature, but well-proportioned and athletic, and of most striking appearance. His forehead was far higher than any other I had ever seen, bulging outward so that his shaggy eyebrows, which grew completely together above the bridge of his aquiline nose, half concealed his small, glittering, beady eyes. His close-cropped, sharply pointed beard, in which a few gray hairs were in evidence, proclaimed him as probably past middle age.

When he had finished bandaging my fractured leg, which throbbed unmercifully, he dismissed his assistant, called me by name, and introduced himself. I am not yet free to divulge his true identity, so I shall continue to call him "Dr. Morgan."

"What hospital is this," I asked, "and how did you find me?"

"You are not in a hospital," he replied in his booming bass voice, "but still on the mountain in my retreat. My men are now replacing the skylight through which you fell."

For nearly a month I convalesced in the secret, perfectly-camouflaged observatory. When he learned that I was an author (he had learned my name from the mundane process of looking through my wallet) he asked permission to question me under hypnosis, promising to explain when he had finished, and assuring me that I need not worry about anything he would ask me.

There are some human beings who inspire you with trust almost upon first sight. Dr. Morgan was such a person. I agreed; and I learned later that, had he not been trustworthy, it would have been very easy for him to have tricked me into agreement. Actually, he would not have done it without my full consent, honestly gained.

"I must ask your forgiveness," he said, after the session. "While my impression of you was that you were both honest and reliable, I had to be sure that you did not have particular character weaknesses through which you could be easily led to betray confidences you really meant to keep. I have some material which would be ideal for the sort of stories you write, but it is vital that certain aspects of what you will learn do not become public knowledge. Without these, few readers will suspect that what you will write is anything but very imaginative romance, and those few will not be able to ascertain more without facts which I now am confident you won't reveal."

He stroked his beard. "I could, of course, with your consent, doubly insure security by putting you under hypnotic inhibition—you would not remember what you were not supposed to reveal. But this is a risky process, not one hundred percent certain, and might have undesirable side-effects upon you."

"I'll go along with your judgment on this," I told him.

In the days that followed I learned about Dr. Morgan's studies of parapsychology, particularly in telepathy. I had done some reading in this line myself, so knew something of the general theory—that the communication of thoughts or ideas or moods from one mind to another without the use of any physical medium whatever was not influenced or hampered by either time or space.

Dr. Morgan had worked on telepathy for many years in his spare time, when he was in practice; but on his retirement, he tried a different track. "I had to amend the theory," he explained. "I decided that it would be necessary to build a device which would pick up and amplify thought waves. And even this would have failed had my machine not caught the waves projected by another machine, which another man had built to amplify and project them."

Now I had been a devotee of imaginative fiction for many years, and had often thought of turning my hand to writing it. I prided myself on having a better than usual imagination; yet, I did not think of the implications of the theory of telepathy when Dr. Morgan told me that the man who built the thought-projector was on Mars. While I deferred to no one in my fondness for Edgar Rice Burroughs's stories of John Carter and others on Barsoom, I was well aware of the fact that what we knew of the planet Mars made his wonderful civilization on that planet quite impossible. I said as much, going into facts and figures.

"Of course, we won't really know for sure about the exact conditions there unless we land on Mars. But still we know enough to make Burroughs's Mars probability zero," I concluded.

Dr. Morgan nodded. "Entirely correct," he said. "There is no such civilization on Mars."

He then explained his own incredulity when his machine picked up the thoughts of a man who identified himself as a human being—one Lal Vak, a Martian scientist and psychologist. But Lal Vak was no less incredulous when Dr. Morgan identified himself as a human being and scientist of Earth. For Lal Vak was certain that there could be no human civilization on Earth, and cited facts and figures to prove it.

And that was the clue. Both Dr. Morgan and Lal Vak were correct. Neither man could possibly exist on the world he claimed to inhabit—if both were living in the same area of space-time. But Lal Vak's description of Earth was a valid description of the third planet from the sun as it existed millions of years ago.

"I have read many weird and fantastic stories," Dr. Morgan said, "as have you. Some of them have given me a most eerie feeling—but nothing to compare with my feelings upon talking with a man who has been dead millions of years, of whose civilization there may now linger not so much as a single trace."

This was the beginning. Dr. Morgan brought me several thick typewritten manuscripts which he had bound separately, and I read therein the stories of Harry Thorne, of Morgan's own nephew, Jerry, and of Robert Grandon. Thus I learned that Lal Vak was the contemporary of a Venusian named Vorn Vangal and that a human civilization had also existed on Venus at this time.

With the aid of Lal Vak, Dr. Morgan had effected transfer of personalities between two Martians and two Earthmen, whose physical and brain-pattern make-up were similar enough to permit such exchange. Through a means which I am still barred from describing in detail, it was possible for Dr. Morgan to keep in rapport with his emissaries on Mars—providing they co-operated. The first man broke contact, and turned out to be a disasterously wrong choice. Thus, Harry Thorne was sent to Mars, to exchange consciousness with a Martian whose body was holding the personality of Frank Boyd, criminal Earthman.

From Vorn Vangal, Dr. Morgan learned the construction and operation of a space-time vehicle, propelled by telekinesis. It was by means of this vehicle that Morgan's nephew, Jerry, went to Mars physically. But something went wrong on the return trip—Dr. Morgan had tried to bring the vehicle back to Earth and his own time, empty, for use to transport an Earthman to Venus later—and the vehicle was lost.

"It might have been possible to build another," Dr. Morgan told me, after I had finished reading about the adventures of his nephew, "but Vorn Vangal and I decided that it would be simpler to use the personality-exchange system, if we could find an Earthman or two who could qualify." He pointed to the other two manuscripts which I was yet to read. "These tell of what happened to the two I sent to Venus: Robert Grandon and Rorgen Takkor."

"Rorgen Takkor—but he's on Mars," I protested. "He's the Zovil of Xancibar…Did something go wrong? A break-up between him and Neva…?"

Dr. Morgan smiled. "No, no, my friend—Harry Thorne is on Mars in the body of Rorgen Takkor. The man who was my assistant for many years, called Harry Thorne, is Rorgen Takkor." He coughed slightly. "Of course, he is now known as Prince Zinlo of Venus."

I smiled. "If we can consider millions of years in the past as 'now.'"

"I am still in contact with him, as with the others who are 'still' alive…At any rate, Rorgen Takkor asked me if he could go to Venus; he was getting tired of Earth, and of course he could not return to Mars. He was fascinated with what Vorn Vangal told me of the Venusian civilization and was sure he'd feel more at home there, however strange it might be. I'd say it would be roughly analogous to the case of a crusader from 12th Century England transported and settled down into a remote part of Islam, where there was not and probably never would be direct contact with his native civilization."

So "Harry Thorne," and an Earthman named Robert Grandon went to Venus.

Here were four distinct stories, and Dr. Morgan went over them with me, indicating what parts of them might be used for novels, and what had best not be related in detail, or omitted entirely.

I have told you the story of Robert Grandon in "The Planet of Peril," and those of you who have read it will recall that Harry Thorne and Grandon met in the closing episodes of the story. You may remember that Grandon asked Thorne to tell him of his adventures between the time of Thorne's arrival on Venus and this meeting, as it was plain that much had happened and that the other man had found his place and the woman of his heart's desire. Before Thorne could tell the story, they were interrupted by announcements that their airship had arrived at Vernia's capital.

Actually, the record shows that Thorne did tell his story to Grandon later, during the visit—although like nothing in the detail present in Dr. Morgan's records. But it was impossible to give even so brief an outline in this place. It had no bearing on the story of Robert Grandon and his rise on Venus, his winning of Vernia, and the defeat and death of the traitor, Prince Destho. I decided to omit it entirely, leaving it for another novel.

So now I offer you the story of Harry Thorne—and, with your permission, I shall stop calling him "Harry Thorne." This is the story of Rorgen Takkor's adventures on Venus, Rorgen Takkor, born on Mars, transferred to Earth for a decade, and finally finding his career and place on Venus.

The Author.

CHAPTER I

"Good-bye, men and good luck to you."

My awakening, after I lay down on the cot in Dr. Morgan's observatory, was quite sudden and startling. It seemed that not more than a few seconds had elapsed since I had heard the doctor's parting words to Grandon and myself.

I opened my eyes and sat up abruptly with an inexplicable sense of impending danger. My first glimpse of my surroundings convinced me that I had indeed arrived on Venus. The magnificent riot of vegetation surrounding me—vegetation the like of which I had not seen on Mars, the red, barren planet of my birth, nor on Earth, the more recent planet of my adoption—was sufficient evidence.

I was seated on a bank of soft, violet-colored moss which sloped gently to a limpid pool at my feet. The feathery fronds of a giant bush-fern arched above my head, some of them dipping to the surface of the water, where they were snapped at from time to time by playful, grotesque, multi-colored amphibians.

I was dressed in garments of shimmering, scarlet material. There was a broad, golden chain-belt about my waist, with a jeweled clasp in front. Riveted to this belt on the right side was an oblong instrument about two feet in length, with a button near the upper end, a small lever on the side, and a tiny hole in the lower end. I had no idea what it was for; but I recognized the weapon which hung at my left side, as it resembled a scimitar. As I was examining the ruby-studded hilt of this beautiful weapon, a noise at my left attracted my attention.

Cautiously, without turning my head, I glanced from the corners of my eyes across a stretch of shrubbery to where a high wall of black stone surrounded this estate, and hid the country beyond. Just on the other side of the wall a tall fern-tree spread its mighty fronds. It must have been the cracking of one of these that had attracted my attention, for a heavy-set individual with a coarse red beard, cut off square below the chin, had climbed out on it to a point where it would no longer sustain his weight, in an effort to reach the top of the wall.

Someone in the shrubbery quite near me called a whispered warning to him—or such I took it to be, for the language was unknown to me, and I could only judge by the tones. The huge intruder was much more agile than he appeared, for he flung an arm over the top of the wall and drew himself up with catlike quickness. As he struck the wall there was a metallic clank which, I saw as soon as he came into full view, was from an edged weapon at his side, quite like my own but with a less ornate hilt and broader blade.

As soon as the red-bearded man reached the top of the wall, the one who had whispered from the bushes cautiously stood up. He was smaller and more wiry than the first, and his beard, which was iron-gray in color, was trimmed in the same manner.

Red-beard tiptoed stealthily along the top of the wall, glancing toward me from time to time as if fearful that I would hear him or turn toward him. Then he leaned out, caught his fingers in a tall cone-shaped growth, swung his sandaled feet out, and descended.

I wondered if it could be possible that these two prowlers were bent on injury to me, a total stranger on Venus. Then it dawned on me that they could easily be mortal enemies of the prince with whom I had exchanged bodies, and that I—so far as their knowledge went—was that prince.

I therefore drew my cutting weapon from its sheath in order to have it ready, and pretended to examine its beautiful, highly polished blade. For several minutes I neither saw nor heard anything of the two prowlers. Then I suddenly glimpsed, reflected on the polished surface of my blade, the red-bearded man standing directly behind me with his weapon upraised for a downward cut that would have sheared my skull from crown to chin. As swords of all kinds had been my principal playthings on Mars, and fencing my favorite amusement on Earth, I did the thing which any swordsman would have done instinctively in the circumstances. I raised the blade of my weapon above my head with a downward slant from hilt to point, and the descending blade of my would-be assassin, deflected by my own, buried itself in the mossy turf on my left.

Springing to my feet, I whirled and attacked.

My opponent proved to be a hammer-and-tongs fighter, no match for superior swordsmanship. I could have killed him any one of a dozen times before he realized that I was playing with him. Then he bawled out lustily, and the wiry fellow with the gray beard came rushing out of the bushes. Not knowing the caliber of the second assailant, I stopped the squawking of the first with a quick neck-cut that laid him low.

The wiry graybeard was much quicker and far more elusive than his huge companion, and I did not play with him. He soon left me the opening I sought, and I stretched him beside his fellow with a bone-shearing cut.

Having ascertained beyond doubt that both of my would-be assassins were dead, I carefully cleaned my blade, sheathed it, and set out to explore my surroundings.

I had been walking for perhaps ten minutes along the mossy bank, when a monster, more hideous than anything I had ever seen or even dreamed existed, emerged from the water and came toward me.

I whipped out my blade as it waddled forward on its thick, bowed legs. Its long, scaly tail dragged in the moss, and its enormous jaws were distended in a grin that disclosed huge, ivory-white tusks. It was so fearsome a thing that, although I am no coward, I knew not whether to stand and fight or take to my heels.

A gust of laughter at my right caused me to turn. I beheld a tall man, apparently of middle age, smiling broadly at me. His garments were of purple, and he wore a beard that had once been black, now slightly streaked with gray, cut off square below the chin. His weapons were similar to mine, though his belt was of silver.

"The 'ikthos' will not harm you," he said in English. "It is one of the garden pets, and hostile only to strangers."

The thing he called an ikthos sniffed at my garments, rubbed its ugly muzzle against my thigh, yawned, and crouched at my feet.

"You are surprised at my knowledge of English," continued my new acquaintance. "After I tell you who you are and were, and also who I am, the thing will not seem so mysterious. You are he who was Rorgen Takkor on Mars, and later Harry Thorne on Earth. You have now become Zinlo, the Torrogi or Imperial Crown Prince of Olba. I am Vorn Vangal, the Olban psychologist, and have been communicating telepathically with Dr. Morgan of Earth for several years."

"I have heard the doctor speak of you often," I replied. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Vorn Vangal."

He acknowledged with a courtly bow. "I have but a few hours to spend with you. Grandon has already arrived on the other side of the planet and will shortly awaken to find himself a princely slave in the marble quarries of Uxpo. I must fly to his assistance. Come with me and see what preparations I have made for you."

I followed Vorn Vangal through the garden. There was a profusion of ornamental trees, shrubs, fungi and jointed grasses, but no flowers or fruits. Patches of gloriously colored water plants of divers odd shapes flourished in the lagoons, and fungi of a thousand types and sizes grew in the moister places.

Though it was without flowers, the garden did not lack color. All the hues of the rainbow were represented in its rankly growing, primitive vegetation. Toadstools as tall as trees bordered several of the lagoons, some of them lemon-yellow, others orange, scarlet, black or brown, and still others of pale, chalky whiteness.

Beautiful statues and statuettes stood here and there, some placed conspicuously, but more of them showing unexpectedly in niches and vine-covered bowers as we moved along.

The garden teemed with bird and animal life. The trees were alive with gay-plumed songbirds that filled the air with their melodious, flute-like notes. Waterfowl, both swimmers and waders, dotted the lagoons, and their cries, though not musical, were far from unpleasant. Amphibians of many species disported themselves in the water or dozed lazily on the banks. I was astonished at sight of a huge yellow frog which must easily have measured more than six feet from nose to toes, blinking contentedly and fearlessly down at me from his seat on an enormous scarlet toadstool.

With our hideous ikthos trailing closely behind us, and from time to time affectionately nosing either Vorn Vangal or me with its cold, moist snout, we presently came before a tall building. It was of black marble, and was my first glimpse of Olban architecture.

Its shape astonished me. I do not believe there was a straight line in the entire structure. Everything was curved. The building stood on a circular foundation, and its walls, instead of mounting skyward in a straight line, bellied outward and then curved in again at the top. The lower structure was surmounted by a second segment, smaller, but of similar shape. This, in turn, supported others, still smaller, up to the top segment, some thirty feet in diameter and no less than six hundred feet from the ground.

We mounted a flight of steps, walked between two uniformed guards who saluted stiffly, and entered a large circular door, where a slave took charge of the ikthos and led him away. After following a broad hallway for some distance we came to a huge pillar. It was in the center of the building, and was decorated on one side with a large oval plate of burnished silver on which was embossed what appeared to be a coat-of-arms. As we stepped before it the plate slid back, revealing a small room within.

At Vangal's invitation I stepped into the small room inside the huge central pillar of the tower, and he followed. As soon as he stood beside me the silver plate slid back across the entrance, a concealed light flashed on somewhere above our heads, and the floor moved upward.

We were in an elevator, of course, but what had started the thing and how was my companion going to stop it when we reached our destination? There were no levers or buttons of any sort. The thing seemed almost human in its movements. Perhaps there was a hidden operator. I voiced my question to Vorn Vangal.

"It is moved by a mechanism which amplifies the power of telekinesis," he said.

I had often heard Dr. Morgan use the word "telekinesis," and knew that it described that mysterious power of the mind which enables psychics to tip tables and lift imponderable objects without physical means. In short, it referred to the direct power of mind over matter.

"I have heard of small objects being moved or lifted by telekinesis," I marveled, "but to lift an elevator! Why, this is amazing!"

"We lift far heavier things than this little car," said Vangal, smiling slightly. "Huge cranes and derricks are operated in the same way. Airships of all sizes from small one-man flyers to huge battleships are moved by it—propelled through the air at speeds ranging from two hundred to one thousand miles an hour."

"But how is that possible?"

"It was made possible by that wonderful invention, the mechanism that amplifies the mind's power. The manufacture of this mechanism is the exclusive secret of the Olban government, and constitutes our defense against aggression from the warlike torro-gats—or empires—surrounding us. If those governments knew the secret, they would build aircraft and use them for conquest. The Olbans, however, are committed to a policy of 'live and let live': We use our wonderful power only for commercial purposes and as a defense against aggression."

We stopped before a metal plate which slid back noiselessly. I stepped out of the car and Vorn Vangal came after me, whereupon the plate slid back in place.

We were in a small, circular hallway around whose walls were metal doors at intervals of about twenty feet. Vangal led the way to one of these doors, pressed a button, and when it slid open, bowed me into a luxuriously furnished suite lighted by enormous circular windows that reached nearly from floor to ceiling.

"This is to be your retreat until my return from Uxpo," he said. "I have been preparing for your coming these many months."

He walked to a beautifully carved table of red wood, and took a thick scroll from a pile neatly stacked on its polished top.

"These are your lessons in patoa, the universal language of Venus. Our patoan name for Venus is Zarovia. Some twenty thousand patoan words are listed here with their pronunciations and English translations. If you will study them carefully until my return it will perhaps be safe for you to leave the Black Tower. Then I can take you to the Red Tower, the Imperial Palace of Olba."

"Am I to infer that it would be unsafe for me to leave the tower at present?"

"The tower and grounds are well guarded," Vorn Vangal replied; "but do not under any circumstances wander beyond the walls. In the course of your walks in the garden, always keep the ikthos with you. He will warn you of lurking assassins, and will fight in your defense."

"He certainly wasn't on the job a short time ago," I said.

"What do you mean?"

I told him of the two assassins.

"The beast must have been lured away by his keeper!" cried Vangal, when I had finished. "The traitor will be dealt with in due time. And those two ruffians—they would be in the pay of Taliboz, of course."

"Who is Taliboz?"

"A man whom I suspect, but against whom I can prove nothing. Nothing! You see—in the course of preparation for your coming, I cast about for an excuse to bring your predecessor here in order that His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hadjez, might not learn that his son Zinlo was changing places with an Earthman. A ready-made excuse presented itself when word came through the intelligence department of the government that there was a plot on foot to assassinate the male members of the imperial family.

"I immediately suggested that Prince Zinlo be brought here until the plotters could be taken and executed. His majesty readily consented, thus making it possible for me to obtain a quiet retreat for you in which you could learn something of the language and customs of Olba, and at the same time be guarded from danger.

"The plotters have not been apprehended, but I am firmly of the opinion that Taliboz is the ringleader. They have already made an attempt on the life of the Emperor and escaped with the loss of a single man. You can see how you would be exposed by going out unguarded."

"I'm willing to stay here for a while," I replied, "for there is no question about my having to learn this language, patoa, sooner or later. But once I learn your language you won't catch me staying behind walls on account of a few assassins. I was born on Mars, where men do not stay indoors to avoid their enemies; and though I am not familiar with your weapons, I believe I can give some account of myself with this cutting implement at my side if attacked."

"No doubt you can," replied Vangal, "although the two ruffians you killed were probably clumsy fighters. But please bear in mind that you are the Torrogi of Olba—the crown prince—and that your life is not yours to throw away heedlessly."

"Don't ever think I'm going to throw it away," I said. "The man who gets it will have to put up a scrap."

"You might be shot from ambush with a tork."

"A tork?"

"You are wearing one attached to your belt."

Vangal explained the use of the oblong instrument at my side. It was about two feet long and shaped like a carpenter's level. A rivet passed completely through it, about eight inches from the top, fastening it to the belt in such a way that it could be tilted at any angle or pointed in any direction by moving the body.

He pressed a small lever on the side and removed two clips, explaining that one was a gas clip containing a thousand rounds of condensed explosive gas, while the other was a bullet clip which held a thousand rounds of needle-like glass projectiles. These projectiles, he said, were filled with a poison that would paralyze man or beast almost instantly, though the paralysis was only temporary. Other projectiles, he explained, were filled with deadly poison, and still others with explosives. The effective range, he stated, was equal to about ten Earth-miles.

He led me to a window which was open.

"I have prepared a target for you," he said. "You will need to practice with the tork if you are to be able to defend yourself on this planet. Do you see that large white plate against the wall at the other end of the garden?"

Yes."

"I had it erected for your use. It is coated with a substance that will combine with the poison in your tork bullets, emitting a green gas. If you see a green spot appear momentarily on the target you will know that you have registered a hit."

I was eager to try this new weapon, and Vangal, smiling at my eagerness, loaded it for me and showed me how to hold it when pressing the button which fired the gas in the chamber by means of an electric spark. It fed new bullets automatically, he explained.

I confidently fired at the target and waited for a green spot to appear. It remained white. Again I fired with the same result.

"You will need considerable practice," said Vangal. "I am not accounted much of a marksman, but watch."

He fired his tork and a green spot appeared in the center of the target. Then, with no apparent effort, he planted a ring of green spots around it.

When the spots had disappeared I tried again, and managed to hit the target once out of five shots.

"Now let me see what you can do with the scarbo," Vangal said.

"The what?"

"That cutting instrument at your side."

"Oh ho, friend Vangal!" I thought. "You won't find me utterly helpless with this weapon."

He drew his scarbo and I mine. Thinking to best me as easily as he had with the tork, he made as if he would lay my head open.

I parried the blow with ease, then whirled his blade on mine with a movement so sudden that, strong as he was, it flew from his grasp and flashing over his head, clanked in the corner behind him.

"Body of Thorth!" he exclaimed. "That is a marvelous trick!"

I recovered his weapon and handed it to him laughingly.

"On Mars I was raised on a diet of swords," I replied.

"Then I suggest that you confine your efforts to target practice and a mastery of patoa," said Vanga. "I must leave you now to go to the assistance of Grandon. My flyer is on the roof. Would you care to see me off?"

"Assuredly."

I followed him into the elevator.

CHAPTER II

THE ELEVATOR stopped at the floor of the top segment, and we mounted thence to the roof by a spiral stairway. Two guards armed with torks, scarbos and broad-bladed spears, saluted when we appeared. The roof was made of the same material as the walls, and the slabs of black marble were fitted together so cunningly that the joints were all but concealed. It was circled by a four foot wall perforated on the floor level at intervals to carry off the heavy Zarovian rains.

There were four Olban airships on the roof. I examined the nearest one with interest. It was shaped like a small metal duck-boat about ten feet in length and three in the beam. The cockpit was covered with a glass dome in the back of which was a small door. Within this dome I could see an assortment of levers, buttons and knobs, and the cushioned seat for the driver. The thing that amazed me the most was the fact that it was not equipped with planes, rudder or propeller.

Vangal turned to me. "You seem astonished at our airships."

"They certainly do not resemble any aircraft I have previously seen."

"We have no need of planes, propellers or rudders for this type of flyer," he went on. "As I told you, it is raised, lowered, turned, or moved in any desired direction by amplified mindpower. The amplifying mechanism is under the round bump on the forward deck. The small lids that you see fore and aft conceal safety parachutes. That rectangular protuberance from the front of the cab is a mattork, a weapon operated on the same principle as a tork, but with a greater range and firing much heavier projectiles."

"You told me that the Olban government alone possessed the secret for manufacturing these flying mechanisms," I said. "Suppose one should be forced to land in hostile territory. The craft would then, in all probability, fall into the hands of your enemies, and they could thus easily take the mechanism apart and duplicate it."

"That danger has been foreseen. A vial of powerful acid has been placed in the mechanism of each Olban craft in such a way that it will be immediately broken if tampered with. The acid thus released in the secret mechanism will instantly destroy it."

"Certainly a far-sighted provision," I remarked.

"It has kept us at peace with our neighbors for many centuries," replied Vangal. "I dislike leaving you thus precipitately, but the time has come for departure."

So saying, he opened the door in the back of the cab and entered. After a hurried examination of the control levers and the cannon-like mattork, he said: "Farewell. Study diligently, practice assiduously, and be ever on your guard against assassins."

"If I catch any prowling about I'll practice on them instead of the target. Farewell, and a safe and pleasant journey to you."

The little craft rose slowly at first, then, gradually gathering momentum, it shot to a height of a half mile or more, sped away with amazing rapidity, and was soon lost to view.

I walked to the edge of the wall and looked over. The roof was at least six hundred feet from the ground, though the drop from battlement to battlement was only about sixty feet. Far to the northward I descried a city of circular buildings, in the center of which towered an immense red structure similar in design to the one on which I stood, but at least twice as tall.

This must be the Red Tower of which Vorn Vangal had spoken—the Imperial Palace of Olba. The city walls formed a circle, broken at each point of the compass by a tower which evidently covered a gate.

The countryside, as far as I could see, was divided into well-kept farms on each of which was a round building, probably the home of the owner. People were working in the fields, and here and there I saw men driving huge, grotesque beasts hitched to plows or cultivators.

The animals, which I afterward learned were called thirpeds, were great hairless pachyderms; they stood about eight feet at the shoulder, and weighed four to five tons apiece when full grown. They had huge heads and mouths, sharp-pointed long ears, and relatively thin necks almost half as long as their bodies. They moved with a lumbering gait that reminded me of elephants.

The plants under cultivation were fungi of various kinds, and several varieties of bush-ferns.

A smoothly paved road, straight as an arrow, led from the south gate of Olba past the tower on which I stood, and thence to the great, crescent-shaped Olban harbor of Tureno. This was the marine gateway of the capital, whence Emperor Hadjez sent his mighty fleet of trading vessels out over the rolling, steel-blue waters of the mighty Ropok Ocean.

Along this straight, smooth road rumbled great, one-wheeled carts drawn by thirpeds. The body of a Zarovian cart is inside the huge single wheel that carries it, being suspended on an inner idling wheel that keeps it from turning when the outer wheel revolves. There were also one-wheeled motor-driven vehicles that moved over the road with great speed. I saw some with wheels more than twenty feet in diameter, making all of a hundred Earth miles an hour.

One of the guards accompanied me down the telekinetic elevator, which I had not learned to operate, conducted me to the suite Vangal had prepared for me, and bowing low, with right hand extended palm downward, left me alone. I could hear him pacing back and forth in the hall while I studied the patoa scrolls.

As I pored over the translations and pronunciations with keen interest, it seemed to me that I was reading something I had known well, but had forgotten. I tested myself on this and found, to my surprise, that having once read and pronounced a patoan word, I had learned it.

When I told Vorn Vangal about it afterward, he explained that this was because the brain of Zinlo, which had become mine, knew all of these things already. The subjective mind, having once received an impression, records it forever. Thus, having only to tap my subjective mind, I learned instantly. It amazed and overjoyed me.

Long before the afternoon had waned, I had mastered the entire group of lessons which Vorn Vangal had prepared for me. I was eagerly reading a Zarovian book on natural history, when the advent of sudden darkness, so common in tropical and semi-tropical Venus, interrupted my studies. A rap sounded at the door.

"Enter," I said in patoa, eager to try my newly mastered language.

The door slid open, framing the figure of my guard in silhouette against the lighted hall. He entered and pressed a button, flooding the room with soft light. I could not see the points from which the radiance emanated, so cleverly were the fixtures concealed.

"Your Highness's dinner," announced the guard.

Two slaves entered, bearing a huge double-decked tray laden with at least fifty different dishes. A third followed with a small table, and a fourth with gold service and scarlet napery.

Fish, flesh, and fowl were set before me, as well as numerous dishes concocted from mushrooms and other fungi, and countless others whose origin I could not fathom. There was also a colorless, pleasant-tasting beverage which I afterward learned was called "kova," served hot in small bowls. I found it fully as stimulating as strong wine, though with a slightly different effect.

Having dined as became a prince of Olba, I turned once more to my studies.

Late in the evening a second knock sounded at my door, and a new guard admitted a man who was evidently my valet. He busied himself in the adjoining room for a few minutes, then entered and, bowing before me, announced that my bedchamber was ready.

I entered, to behold a sleeping shelf that curved out from the wall like the nest of a cave-swallow. A scarlet canopy fringed with gold projected above it, and the downy, silken coverlets—scarlet lined with golden yellow—had been turned back invitingly.

My valet brought my scarlet sleeping garments, and I wondered at the preponderance of this color; later, I learned that throughout Zarovia scarlet is the exclusive color of royalty.

Though I had grown drowsy over my studies, the novelty of my situation kept me awake. After several hours, I managed to drift off, only to be awakened by a sharp, metallic clang.

The sound seemed to come from the direction of the battlement outside my window, and I listened breathlessly for a repetition. As it was not repeated, I decided that it could have no alarming significance, and was once more composing myself for slumber when I heard a slight rustle as of silken garments only a few feet distant from my head.

Without moving, I opened my eyes and endeavored to penetrate the pitch darkness that enveloped me. Venus has no moon, and in consequence it was fully as dark outside as anywhere in the room; I could not see the window, nor could I have seen any one entering it.

It was plainly evident that there was someone in the room. I thought of Vorn Vangal's warning, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My weapons lay on a low table only a few feet from me, yet I could not move to reach them without making sufficient noise to apprise my stealthy visitor of my whereabouts.

Another rustle, quite near me this time, was followed by the glow of a flashlight which swept the room, rested for a moment on my recumbent form, and then winked out. I sat up suddenly, at the sound of a scarbo drawn stealthily from its sheath not two feet from me.

No sooner had I sat up in bed than there was a whistling sound, followed by a thud, as the keen blade of a scarbo buried itself in the pillow where my head had lain a moment before.

I leaped from the sleeping shelf and fumbled for the light switch while my assailant, with a muttered exclamation of surprise and anger, flashed his torch on the coverlets. Then he whirled it around the room just as I found the switch and turned it.

Both of us were blinded for an instant by the glare of the light. I reached the table and secured my scarbo just in time to ward off his furious attack.

Back and forth we fought across the smooth floor, overturning furniture and tripping on rugs, while the apartment echoed and re-echoed with the clamor of our rapidly moving blades.

I found my assailant a dangerous antagonist; as a swordsman, Vorn Vangal was but a child compared with him. He was dressed in purple raiment trimmed with silver, and wore a heavy black beard.

At first his demeanor was one of sneering disdain; but when he found me able not only to parry his lightning cuts and thrusts, but to return them, measure for measure, a look of wonderment came to his hawk-like features. "Body of Thorth, stripling!" he exclaimed. "You have been practicing with the scarbo since I last saw you."

"I am but practicing now," I replied tauntingly, speaking slowly so that I might not mispronounce the words which came to me so readily.

His face reddened at this, and he redoubled his efforts, his keen blade flashing in shimmering arcs, alike bewildering and deadly. But his anger gave me the opportunity I sought. Whirling his blade on mine, as I had whirled that of Vangal some time before, I wrenched it from his hand and sent it clattering to the floor.

With a startled look he leaped back just in time to avoid a lunge that would have ended our conflict. As he sprang he shouted lustily, "Vinzeth! Maribo! Attend me!"

Two burly ruffians responded to his call, leaping through the window. They were armed with huge, broad-bladed spears and would probably have made quick work of me had not my own retainers burst through the door at my back, having heard the noise of our conflict.

For the moment the tide of battle turned in our favor. Then fresh re-enforcements poured in from outside. The leader had recovered his scarbo, and now they cut my men down until but a handful remained. Though our attackers were not without casualties, we were outnumbered from the start.

Maddened with the lust of battle, I was cutting my way through the spearmen in my endeavor to reach their leader when my tower guards made a sudden charge in response to a sharp order from their commander. At the same instant he plucked at my sleeve.

"The tower is lost, highness," he cried. "The traitors are too many for us. You must flee."

"Never! Let me at these assassins!"

I succeeded in breaking from his grasp, but he seized my arm once more, calling one of the guards to assist him. "Do not compel me to use force, Highness," he pleaded. "I must get you hence at once. To do otherwise would be treason to Your Imperial Sire."

The two of them dragged me through the doorway which they bolted. A moment later we entered the elevator and shot to the top floor, whence we climbed the spiral stairway to the roof. Far below us I heard the door crash inward—proof that the last guardsman had fallen.

They hustled me to the largest of the three airships, opened the door of the cab, and fairly hurled me onto the cushions.

"Raboth will take you to the palace," said the commandant. "I will bolt the door and follow in a one-man craft."

Raboth, a lean wiry youth with a thin, ragged beard, climbed in beside me and closed the door. As soon as he was seated, the ship began to rise—slowly at first, but rapidly gaining momentum until we shot upward with amazing rapidity.

My pilot, looking downward to take his bearings, drew back with a sudden intake of breath. "They have seen us! Two of their battle planes are rising to cut us off from the palace."

Scarcely had he spoken ere a searchlight flashed on our ship. An instant later a bullet ricocheted from our deck, tearing way part of the railing as it exploded. It had been fired from a mattork.

A terrific fusillade followed as we continued our rapid ascent. Suddenly we plunged into a thick cloudbank, shielding us from the revealing glare of the enemy searchlight. Continuing upward for several minutes more we cleared this lower cloud stratum and Raboth immediately put on our forward lights. Then he turned a switch, illuminating the interior of the cab with the radiance of a tiny bulb above our heads.

My pilot leaned forward to examine a small instrument suspended on a thin wire at the front of the cab. "I fear we are lost, Highness," he said, with a look of consternation. "One of the shells must have carried our magnet away. The compass is out of order."

A quick examination proved his statement correct. The magnet, which is fastened to the rear deck of all Olban airships to counteract the strong magnetic pull of the motive mechanism, had been snapped off by one of the mattork bullets. Now the needle pointed to the front of our craft no matter which way we turned.

A sudden glare of light at our backs, followed by the rending impact of a mattork shell on our hull, warned us that the enemy had sighted us. This time we dived into the stratum beneath us and then with level keel, hurtled forward at a pace that held me breathless with wonder.

"How fast are we traveling, Raboth?" I asked, trying to adjust my senses to the sight of cloud masses made iridescent by our lights, and moving past the cab in swift, bewildering kaleidoscopic display.

"This ship is rated at three-quarters of a rotation," he replied. "We are moving at top speed."

"What do you mean by three-quarters of a rotation?"

He seemed astonished at my question. "Why, a rotation is the speed at which Zarovia rotates on her axis. We are traveling three-fourths of that speed."

I made a rapid calculation. As the circumference of Venus is slightly less than that of Earth, and her day twenty-three hours and twenty-one minutes, Earth time, she rotates on her axis at a speed of more than a thousand miles an hour. Roughly, then, we were traveling at seven hundred and fifty miles an hour.

My companion held the ship to her course through the clouds for a considerable period, then dipped beneath them. This move almost resulted in our undoing; the second enemy craft, which had evidently been flying below us all the time, opened fire. I replied with our stern mattork—whether effectively or not, I could not tell—while Raboth again shot our craft up to the concealment afforded by the clouds. Once more we hurtled forward on a level keel.

"Our would-be assassins are certainly persistent," I remarked casually to my companion.

"And well they may be. This is the first time their leader has been recognized. No doubt we are the only two survivors of the fight in the tower, and consequently the only ones able to expose Taliboz."

"Who is this Taliboz?" I asked thoughtlessly.

"Is it possible that Your Highness does not remember Taliboz? He is the most powerful noble in Olba. For some time it has been hinted that he was conspiring against the throne, but there was no direct evidence. Now he must kill us all—both to do away with the heir to the throne, and to silence the witnesses of his perfidy."

We sped along for some time in silence. I calculated that if we had traveled in a reasonably straight line we were at least a thousand miles from our starting point. At length, feeling that we must have shaken our pursuers, Raboth once more descended beneath the lower stratum, taking the precaution of switching off all lights as he did so.

He looked about carefully, saw no sign of pursuit, and made the fatal mistake of turning on the lights. Scarcely had he done this ere a missile crashed through the back of the cab and exploded with a deafening noise. It struck on Raboth's side and killed him instantly, tearing his body to shreds.

Our lights were extinguished by the explosion, but a powerful searchlight played on us from behind and another shell carried away our stern. Then the craft lurched violently and fell, turning end-over-end while I clung desperately to my seat.

CHAPTER III

As THE wreck hurtled downward it gathered momentum each instant, and I expected nothing less than a terrific crash. To my surprise, however, the craft plunged nose first into water and sank rapidly. The cabin filled instantly through the great hole, torn by the mattork shell; but this same hole proved to be my salvation, for after the first cold shock of immersion was past I managed to scramble through it.

For several seconds I continued to sink in spite of my frantic efforts, due to the downward momentum of the craft I had just left. Then I stopped, and slowly began to make some progress upward, though it seemed at every stroke that my lungs must burst for want of oxygen.

After what seemed an age of lung-straining torture, my head bobbed above the surface, and I trod water while inhaling great breaths of the moist, salt air.

In the blackness of the Zarovian night, broken only at infrequent intervals by the momentary twinkle of a star or two through a rift in the ever-present cloud envelope overhead, I was unable to see in any direction. But I heard a familiar sound, far to my right—the roll of breakers on a windward shore. Toward this sound I swam slowly.

The sound grew louder as I progressed, and presently I lowered an exploring foot to find the bottom. Not reaching it, I swam onward once more. The second test proved more successful, and I stood erect, only to be knocked flat by a huge wave. I scrambled to my feet and, half wading, half swimming, at length dragged my weary body up on a sandy beach beyond reach of the breakers.

After a brief rest I arose and walked still farther inland, where I soon ran into a thick copse of bush-fern. The ground beneath the curved fronds was covered with moss, and on this I stretched, thankful for so soft a couch. In a short time, I was asleep.

I was awakened by the sound of voices quite near me. It was broad daylight and promised to be an exceptionally warm day. My silky scarlet garments had long since dried, as had my leather trappings, which had stiffened as a result of their soaking.

I judged from the tones that two people were conversing—a man and a girl. At first I did not hear what they said as I lay there on the soft moss only half awake, looking drowsily up through the rustling, wind-shaken fern leaves. Then the man raised his voice.

"Well you know, Cousin Loralie, that your parents desire the marriage as much as mine," he said in mincing patoa. "Is this not enough for you? Are you so lacking in respect for the wishes of your father and mother that you would set them aside for an idle whim?"

"Not for an idle whim, Cousin Gadrimel," replied the girl in a clear, musical voice. "I do not love you. What more need be said?"

"How do you know?" he demanded. "Yesterday we saw each other for the first time. We had but a few moments alone. I have not more than touched your hand. I could make you love me as I have…"

"As you have countless others, no doubt. Understand me, once and for all. No man can make me love him, nor could I make myself love any man, even if I desired to do so as a matter of filial duty."

Not wishing to play the part of an eavesdropper, however unintentional, I stood up, intending to offer my apologies and take my departure. As I did so I heard a muttered, "We'll see," from the man, followed by the sound of a struggle and a little scream of fear.

Pushing my way through the shrubbery, I came out on a moss-covered sward in the middle of which played an ornate fountain. Just beyond the fountain I saw a girl struggling to free herself from the embrace of a tall blond youth, whose yellow beard had just begun to grow. Both wore the scarlet of royalty.

"Let me go, you beast!" The girl's big brown eyes were flashing—her disheveled, dark brown ringlets flying as she struggled to free herself. Even in anger she was beautiful—more beautiful than any woman I have seen on three planets.

I sprang forward, seized the youth by the collar, and twisting it said, "If you are bent on wrestling this morning, Prince Gadrimel, permit me to offer you a more even match."

He released the girl and tried to turn, whereupon I twisted his collar the tighter. Then he reached for his tork, but I seized his wrist and bent it up behind his back. At this he began to bellow for the guard, whereupon I sent him crashing headfirst into the fern-brake.

I turned and bowed to the girl, who was still flushed and panting from her struggle. "Your Highness's pardon, if I intrude. It appeared to me that you were being annoyed."

"You were right, and I am indebted to you, Prince…?"

"Prince Zinlo of Olba," I finished for her, "at your service."

"I am the Princess Loralie of Tyrhana," she replied with a smile that revealed two adorable dimples. "Pray tell me…"

Our conversation was interrupted by the youth, who, after extricating himself from the bushes, rushed between us with drawn scarbo.

"Body and bones of Thorth," he snarled. "You have sealed your death warrant, Prince Zinlo."

Then he made a slash at me that would have severed my head from my body had I not leaped back. As I did so, I drew my own blade and engaged him. Finding in a moment that he was no master of fence, I disarmed him—then retrieved his weapon before he had time to recover from his amazement.

"You have dropped your scarbo," I said. "Permit me." And I presented it to him, hilt first.

Again he lunged at me, and again I disarmed him, with as much ease as before—then leaped and picked up his weapon before he could reach it.

"Perhaps I had better keep this," I said. "You seem so unfamiliar with its use that you may injure yourself."

He reached for his tork, but I was expecting this, and with a quick slash cut his belt. The weapon fell onto the soft moss, and I kicked it into the shrubbery.

He cringed as if expecting the death blow, then suddenly looked beyond me, exclaiming, "By the sixteen kingdoms of Reabon! Look behind you!"

Thinking it a trick, I did not look until I heard a scream from Princess Loralie and the clank of weapons. Then I whirled, and saw her struggling in the grip of a purple-clad noble whom I instantly recognized as my opponent of the tower—Taliboz! An Olban airship resting on the ground behind him explained his presence here. Four burly warriors were rushing toward me with drawn scarbos.

"It seems that we have some real fighting to do," I said to Gadrimel, tossing him his weapon. He caught it, and came manfully enough to guard, just as the four armed retainers of Taliboz bore down on us. I crouched low and extended my point as my first assailant made a vicious swing at my neck.

He died on my blade with an ear-piercing shriek, and I wrenched it free just as my second assailant came up. This fellow was not only more wary, but quite expert with the scarbo. He laid my cheek open with a quick cut just as I was coming on guard. His second blow was aimed at my legs, and would have mowed me down as grain is cut had I not leaped back. As it was, the point of his weapon raked my thigh.

Stung by the pain of my two wounds, I forgot my swordsmanship for the moment, and brought my blade straight down in a blow which he should have easily parried. It was the unexpected clumsiness of the stroke which told, as he did not come on guard in time; my blade divided his head as cleanly as a knife divides a Zarovian spore-pod.

Over at my left, Prince Gadrimel was sorely beset by the other two ruffians. His face and body were bloody as my own, yet he gave them back blow for blow and thrust for thrust. But he was plainly weakening. With the princess being carried off, there was no time for the niceties of dueling, and I felt no compunction about leaping up behind his nearest assailant and striking off his head. The other, seeing the blow, turned to face me; but to his own undoing, for he left Gadrimel the opening he sought. With a quick slash the prince disemboweled him.

"Come," I snapped, dashing toward the airship. "We must rescue the princess from that fiend."

He followed close at my heels, but we had not covered more than half the distance to the airship when it began to rise. Then a mattork projectile screamed past our heads, exploding in the shrubbery behind us, followed by another and another. We took shelter behind the marble rim of the fountain, and Taliboz's bombardment ceased.

The cannonading was suddenly resumed; but this time it came from the castle behind us. The castle guards, evidently believing themselves attacked by the Olban ship, were returning its fire with a vengeance.

Gadrimel and I both rose from our hiding place, and he shouted, "Don't shoot! The princess is on board."

The firing ceased, but too late, for the airship, its motive mechanism put out of commission by a mattork shell, was falling into the bay. I watched breathlessly as it hurtled downward, expecting to see it plunge beneath the water as my own had done the night before; but, to my astonishment, two parachutes flew upward from the fore and aft decks and effectively broke its fall. It alighted on an even keel with a great splash that nearly capsized a small sailing vessel anchored near by. Sinking no deeper than its deck railing, it rose again to ride the waves as evenly as if it had been built especially for the purpose.

Washed shoreward, it drifted closer and closer to the small sailing vessel while Gadrimel and I rushed down to the shore. Then, as we stood helplessly watching, a dozen armed men swarmed into the sailing vessel from the airship. The sailors instantly dived over the opposite side and swam for shore. The last man to step into the captured ship was the purple-clad Taliboz, carrying in his arms the limp form of Princess Loralie.

"To the docks!" shouted Gadrimel, racing madly off to the right. "They are raising the sails!"

As I hurried along, I saw the sails go up, billowing in the breeze, while four of Taliboz's men at the prow hoisted the anchor.

Gadrimel and I rounded a bend in the wooded shore line, and a crescent of docks to which several hundred ships were moored came into view. At the same time, the vessel which Taliboz had captured, with all sails up and anchor hoisted, veered about in the considerable breeze and made swiftly for the open sea.

A party of soldiers from the castle had reached the dock ahead of us. With them was a tall, broad-shouldered figure in the scarlet of royalty, whose grizzled beard was cut off square below the chin, and whose regal countenance was empurpled with anger.

"It's my father, Emperor Aardvan of Adonijar," said Gadrimel.

"Prepare six warships for pursuit, at once," I heard Aardvan shout.

A thousand men hurried to carry out his orders.

As we approached this commanding individual, the prince and I both bowed low, with right hands extended palm downward, in the universal Zarovian salute to royalty. I was struck by the contrast between this brawny, bull-necked emperor and his mincing, effeminate son.

Aardvan, glaring down at us, roared, "Two brawling princelings, all spattered with blood. What did you do? Scratch each other like a couple of marmelot cubs? Who is your playmate, Gadrimel? Were those his men who carried off the princess?"

"This is Torrogi Zinlo of Olba, Your Majesty," replied Gadrimel.

"The Imperial Crown Prince of Olba! What does he here?"

I explained briefly.

"We slew four men, sire," boasted Gadrimel.

"I've heard of this Taliboz," growled Aardvan. "A traitorous and dangerous fellow. You are welcome to Adonijar, Prince Zinlo. Stay as long as you like, and when you are ready to depart I'll send a guard of honor to accompany you to your own country."

"With your majesty's permission," I said, "I should prefer to accompany the fleet which is preparing to follow Taliboz."

"That will be as Gadrimel says," rumbled his father. "He will command the fleet."

"Come along," said Gadrimel. "Our private quarrel can wait. For the present we have common interests, and your blade may be needed."

A gray-bearded naval officer came running up and saluted.

"What is it, Rogvoz?" inquired Emperor Aardvan.

"The fleet is ready, Your Majesty," replied the officer.

"Then let's be off," said Gadrimel.

We hurried aboard one of the six vessels, all of which swarmed with armed men, accompanied by the gray-bearded officer. A few moments later, with all sails set, the fleet plowed out of the harbor in pursuit of the small fishing boat, which was now but a speck on the horizon.

CHAPTER IV

The tiny sailboat in which my mortal enemy, Taliboz, was carrying off the Princess Loralie, was making steadily northeast toward Olba with our six battleships in hot pursuit, when suddenly I saw her come about and head directly south.

Gadrimel, Admiral Rogvoz and I were watching together on the forward deck of the flagship. The admiral stared for a minute through his long glass. Then he carefully scanned the horizon toward the northeast.

"They have good reasons for turning," he announced excitedly. "A great ordzook approaches from the north!"

He passed the glass to Gadrimel, who looked for a moment, then with an exclamation of horror, passed it on to me.

When I had adjusted the glass to suit my vision, I saw a most fearsome sight. Not more than a half mile behind the small sailboat, and gaining on it rapidly, a gigantic and terrible head projected from the water, swinging on a thick arched neck. The head alone was half as long as the sailboat it pursued; and although the body was submerged, I could see, at intervals of fifteen to twenty feet, sharp spines flashing intermittently above the waves to a distance of fully a hundred feet behind the head.

"Do you think we can save them, Rogvoz?" asked Gadrimel.

"We can but try, Highness," replied the admiral. "It is doubtful." He turned to the captain of the boat. "Order the mattork crews to start firing on the ordzook, and signal all other captains to do likewise."

The captain shouted his orders to the waiting cannon crews, and a moment later the din of these rapid-fire weapons was terrific. From the high forward deck our signal man meanwhile busied himself semaphoring with two huge disks, one red the other yellow. The other ships immediately opened fire with their mattorks, adding to the deafening noise which our own ship had started.

We were approaching closer to the marine monster now, as the path of the fishing boat crossed our own. I could see the ordzook turn from time to time, snapping at the stinging mattork projectiles as they struck the spiny ridges of its undulating scaly body, which was a shimmering, bluish-green in color. The head and neck were a brilliant shade of yellow, except where neck and shoulders joined, for at this point a broad band of scarlet formed a flaming ring—a danger signal which all creatures might beware.

The speed of the mighty amphibian was impeded by its constant turning to snap at its wounds, enabling the small boat containing Taliboz and Loralie to gain on it gradually.

Suddenly changing its course, the monster wheeled and swam toward our fleet. "To the right!" called Rogvoz. "Veer to the right!"

The ship on which we stood came about suddenly, her starboard rail for a moment submerged beneath the waves. All hands grabbed for such fixed objects as they could cling to.

Behind us trailed the fleet, and on came the ordzook, not stopping now to snap futilely at the stinging projectiles, but bent on more deadly action.

With all the port mattorks trained on the monster, I thought to see it go into a death struggle at any moment, but the projectiles seemed merely to irritate it. We were so close in a few moments that I could see its relatively tiny jet black eyes, set just above the corners of the great gaping mouth which was filled with a formidable array of saw-edged teeth.

We passed it safely, as did the second, third, fourth and fifth boats, but the last of the fleet, lagging behind because of improper manipulation of its sails, could not escape.

The enormous yellow head reared upward for an instant on the arched, spiny neck. Then, with formidable jaws distended, it struck downward at the fore deck. The captain of the ship and three of his men standing with him disappeared into the huge maw along with most of the deck on which they stood.

Again and again the creature struck at the doomed craft, until sails, masts, men, and most of the upper works were gone. Then it reared upward in the water and came down with a tremendous crash on the middle of the defenseless hulk. Broken in two by the terrific impact, both halves of the ship sank almost instantly, and the fearful creature which had wrought this destruction before our eyes plunged into the waves after them. Nor did we see it more.

Once more we turned our attention to the boat containing Taliboz and the princess. Hemmed off from Olba by our five vessels, they were now sailing due south at a speed apparently equaling our own, for as time passed the distance between us did not seem appreciably to alter.

Because of the presence of Princess Loralie on board the fishing boat we were constrained to withhold our mattork fire, with which otherwise we could soon have brought Taliboz to terms. He fired no shots, either, except a few stray projectiles from the torks, which led us to believe that he had not salvaged any mattorks from his wrecked airship.

As we sailed southward over the blue-gray waters of the Ropok Ocean, the point of land on which the city of Adonijar is situated receded from view, and in all directions showed only a cloud-lined sky meeting and almost blending with the rolling waters.

But even this vast expanse of sky and sea was not a lonely place. It teemed with life of a thousand varieties—with creatures of striking beauty and of the most terrifying ugliness. Quite near our boat several large white birds with red-tipped wings and long, sharply curved beaks skimmed the water in search of food. Mighty flying reptiles, some with wingspreads of more than sixty feet, soared high in the air, scanning the water until they saw such prey as suited them; then, folding their webbed wings, they plunged with terrific speed, to emerge with struggling prey and leisurely flap away.

With the advent of sudden darkness, common to tropical and semi-tropical Zarovia, bright searchlights flashed out from the mast-heads of the entire fleet, and the boat we pursued was thus kept in sight.

While these lights were an absolute necessity in the blackness of the moonless Zarovian night, they were also a nuisance, as they attracted to the vessel countless droves of flying creatures, mostly reptilian; many of them, blinded by the bright beams, flew against masts, sails or rigging and fell, squawking, croaking or hissing to the deck. Some of them, infuriated and only partly crippled or stunned, menaced our lives until dispatched and tossed overboard.

After several hours I grew weary and retired for the night. Despite the constantly repeated disturbances above deck and the frequent colliding of the craft with some marine monster, I soon fell asleep.

I was awakened late the following morning by Prince Gadrimel's valet, who insisted on ministering to my wants as became a prince of the blood imperial. After a breakfast of stewed mushrooms and succulent grilled fish, washed down with a bowl of steaming kova, I went on deck where I found Gadrimel and Rogvoz in consultation.

"They swing gradually but surely toward the southwest, Highness," said Rogvoz as I came up. "They are trying to circle us and sail once more toward Olba."

"Is there no way we can prevent their doing this?" asked Gadrimel.

"We can only follow them so that their circle must be so large that they will be cornered by land."

I took up the glass which he had put down in order to make some calculations, and focused it on the ship we were pursuing. On the rear deck I made out the slim figure of the princess, who also held a telescope in her hand. She raised it a moment later, and I saw that it was pointed at our ship. I waved my left arm.

Her reply was instantaneous, as her shapely white arm flashed above her head. Then I saw Taliboz, glowering with rage, come up behind her, wrench the glass from her grasp and with significant gestures order her forward. With little head held high, she defied him, but he grasped her wrist and dragged her away. As she disappeared from view, I lowered my glass, and Gadrimel, who had evidently been watching me, said, "Beard of Thorth, Prince Zinlo! Your usually serene and smiling countenance has suddenly become as stormy and forbidding as the Azpok at change of seasons. What have you seen?"

"Enough," I replied, "to make me long for the day when I can once more meet Taliboz face-to-face, scarbo in hand!"

For five days we followed in tormenting nearness, sometimes close enough to be within hailing distance, sometimes so far back that we feared to lose them. It was late on the fifth day that a lookout at the masthead above us suddenly shouted: "Land! Land!"

Instantly Gadrimel, Rogvoz and I rushed to the foredeck. Taliboz, now hemmed in from all sides by our fleet, was doing the only thing left for him to do, steering directly for a sheltered inlet. He rounded a curve in the shore line, disappearing from view, and some time later, when we sailed into the inlet, we saw his craft beached.

Rogvoz, who had the glass, exclaimed, "The fool! The utter fool! To escape us he plunges into worse danger, dragging the princess with him. We, at least, would not eat him."

"What do you mean?" demanded Gadrimel.

"Just now I saw the entire party disappear into the fern forest."

"But this danger you mention. What is it?"

"I had forgotten, Highness, that you are unfamiliar with this part of Zarovia. This is the land of the terrible, flesh-eating cave-apes—huge creatures, any one of which is said to be a match for a dozen men, but with intelligence far greater than that of other apes. Some of the few men who have landed here and had the good fortune to escape them say they not only have a peculiar clucking language of their own but can also speak patoa."

"We must catch up to them quickly," I cried.

The five ships were brought up as close to the sloping, sandy beach as was safe, then boats were lowered. Soon a force of five hundred fighting men stood on shore.

After a short consultation, it was decided that we should form a long line, the men keeping about ten feet apart, and so enter the forest in the direction which Taliboz had taken. This line, if kept unbroken, would form a great net nearly a mile across in which the fugitives, we felt sure, must inevitably be snared. Rogvoz took charge of the extreme left end of the line, Gadrimel directed the center, and I had charge of the extreme right end.

Tripping over clinging creepers, floundering through sticky morasses, cutting our way through matted, tangled ropelike vines which hung downward from the mighty branches of the tree-ferns, and constantly slapping at the biting and stinging insect pests which abounded in these lowlands, we soon found ourselves progressing with exasperating slowness.

Not only did the vegetable and insect world seek to detain us, there was the menace of animals and reptiles as well. A giant whistling serpent—a hideous creature fully forty feet in length, with long, upright ears and sharp spines the full length of its back—struck down one of our men and succeeded in killing two others before it was finally dispatched by the bullets from a score of torks.

Soon the men had banded in groups of about twenty each for mutual protection.

The group nearest us lost three men to a ramph, a great hairless bearlike creature, whose scaly hide was a brilliant chlorophyl green above, fading to a greenish yellow below. After they had slain it they fell to with their scarbos, cutting it up and bearing portions of the meat with them, for ramph steaks were considered the most delicious meat on Zarovia.

Some time near noon, my party was attacked by a marmelot, a vicious feline fully as large as a terrestrial draft horse, its hairless, scaly hide a mottled orange and black, its great saber tusks fully a foot in length. Seven of our men were slain by this, one of the fiercest of the Zarovian jungle creatures, before it was dispatched.

Brave men were these soldiers of Adonijar; in spite of the sudden death which hovered over us in these tangled jungles, they cut their way forward without grumbling or word of turning back.

Because they had stopped to cut up the ramph they had slain, we had lost sight of the party next to us, and it was not until darkness suddenly descended that I thought to communicate with them. I called out to them then to halt, but received no reply. Again I called at the top of my voice, but there was no answer.

"Remain here," I told my men, "and I will go and find them. They cannot be far away."

Glad for a rest after their arduous march, the group quickly cleared a place for a fire, and got out their kova and provisions to prepare their evening meal.

I then set out in the direction which I felt sure would lead me to the next group of warriors, flashing my light ahead of me. I must have traveled for at least two miles, shouting from time to time without receiving any reply, when suddenly I heard a quavering, mournful howl from the darkness at my right.

Swinging my light around in the direction of the noise, I saw three huge, slinking forms and three pairs of blazing eyes. They slightly resembled terrestrial wolves, but were fully twice as large as any wolves that ever lived on Earth. Their scaly hides were slate gray in color, and each had a ruff of long, sharp spines which stood out around the neck like a spiked collar. Upon describing them later, I learned that they were awoos—so called, no doubt, because of their doleful, nerve-racking cries.

Swinging my tork into line, I instantly brought down the foremost beast, whereupon the others crouched, disappearing from view. Howl after howl resounded from all directions. They began to close in on me.

I whirled this way and that, and where the light was caught by the glowing eyes of the wary creatures, my tork spat death, but I soon saw that it was a hopeless fight. It seemed that as soon as I killed or wounded one creature, two more stepped in to take its place.

There was nothing left for me to do but to climb into the branches above me, hoping they would be unable to follow. Accordingly I swarmed up one of the trailing, rope-like vines which hung from the mighty fronds of a tree-fern fully sixty feet above my head, and soon found myself in a huge leaf crown which afforded a temporary resting place.

The howling chorus below was terrible to hear. The pack, now more than a hundred in number, milled about the base of the tree while the more impatient of the creatures leaped up, snapping and snarling. Time and again I used my tork, littering the ground with their carcasses, but the dead brutes were instantly replaced by others.

Wondering how long this sort of thing would last, I was slipping a fresh clip of gas and one of projectiles into my weapon when I heard a rustle of the leaves above me. Glancing upward, I beheld a huge gorilla-like face surmounting a mighty chest fully three feet across. Then a great hairy hand descended on my head with terrific force, and I lost consciousness.

CHAPTER V

When I had once more become aware of my surroundings, I was lying in semi-darkness on a cold stone floor. The top of my head was bruised and tender, and my neck so lame that a sharp twinge of pain shot through it each time I turned my head to look about. The belt, to which my tork and scarbo had been fastened, was gone.

I sat up, and my brain swam dizzily for a moment. My vision cleared presently, and I saw that the source of the light which but faintly illuminated the spot I occupied was a jagged opening—evidently the mouth of a huge cave.

Quite close to me on my left, I became aware that some creature was breathing heavily, apparently in sleep. Turning, I beheld the recumbent form of a gigantic hairy female—head pillowed on arm, and knees drawn up as if for warmth, sleeping not four feet from me.

The face was neither ape nor human, but partook of the characteristics of both. The form, slender of waist, full-breasted and broad-hipped, was more like that of a human female than a she-ape, though covered with short, reddish-brown hair. The limbs were not ungraceful, but the toes were long and evidently prehensile. I judged that the creature, when standing erect, must be at least eight feet in height and so powerfully muscled as to be a formidable antagonist.

Stealthily I stood erect, then tiptoed toward the mouth of the cave. I had not taken more than a dozen steps when something tripped me and I fell headlong to the jagged floor. At the same time there came the sound of a fearful growl behind me.

Before I could scramble to my feet I was pounced upon from behind and jerked erect. Then, with my arms pinioned behind me by two powerful hairy hands, I was marched out into the sunlight. Looking up, to the considerable inconvenience of my injured neck, I saw that my captor was the big female who had been sleeping so peacefully a moment before. She had been awakened by a thin but exceedingly tough twisted string of gut, tied to my ankle and her wrist.

We were high up on a rugged hillside which seemed honeycombed with caves. In the valley far below us, I saw the waving fronds of huge tree-ferns above the tangled mass of jungle vegetation.

"So, food-man, you would escape Chixa, and thus have Chixa slain," said my captor in a peculiar, clucking patoa.

"It is high time you were taken before Rorg. Perhaps he is hungry."

"Release my wrists," I replied, "and I'll be glad to go with you before Rorg. Who is he, and what has his hunger to do with me?"

"Rorg is the king, the Rogo of the Cave-Apes." The tall female released my wrists and stepped up beside me, taking a firm grip on my right arm. "If he is hungry he may want to eat you."

"What makes you think I will be good to eat?" I asked.

"I have tasted the flesh of many food-men, and most of it is good, though it is sometimes too salty. Are you very salty?"

"Very. I'm afraid your ruler would be displeased."

"If you are very salty he will be greatly pleased," said Chixa. "He likes salty food-men, though I do not."

About the furry waist of my captor there was a string like the one bound to my ankle. Swinging from this string on the side opposite me, by a short hook in the handle, was a weapon I greatly coveted.

It was a club of hard wood about three feet in length, shaped something like the blade of an oar, but thicker and heavier, and pointed at the end. Set in the two edges of this club were small bits of sharp flint which gave it a formidable saw-like appearance. It was heavy enough to crush a skull or break a limb, and sharp enough to lacerate the toughest muscle. A large flint knife also swung between her breasts from a cord around her neck.

The cave-ape walking beside me was in some ways like a woman, and because of that faint similarity I hesitated for a moment to carry out the plan which had come to me. But life has ever been dear to me—even though I love adventure so greatly that I have risked death in many terrible forms on three planets—so my hesitation was but momentary.

Suddenly turning with my right arm bent at the elbow, I put all my weight in a blow that landed in the furry solar plexus. With a terrible sound—half scream, half roar—my tall captor clasped her hands to her abdomen and bent over. As she did so I pivoted the other way with a left to the point of her jaw, and she fell unconscious at my feet.

Quickly slipping the knife cord from around her neck, I sawed the gut tether from my ankle. Then I seized the club which dangled from her belt, and looked about me for the most likely avenue of escape.

To my surprise and horror, I saw that there was none, for at the sound of Chixa's voice, the caves had suddenly spewed forth not less than a thousand of these gigantic creatures, all armed as I now was, with flint knives and sawedged clubs. The mature females varied in height from seven to nine feet and the males from ten to twelve.

Those nearest me had spied me as I got to my feet, and now approached menacingly from all sides with bared fangs and low, throaty growls—the males displaying long, downcurving tusks which greatly increased their ferocious appearance.

With the club held swordlike in my right hand, and the flint knife gripped in my left, I leaped for a great leaning boulder, one side of which could afford me protection from above and behind.

A huge tusked male sprang forward to bar my progress, and swung his saw-edged club in a terrific blow. He was fully eleven feet in height, and towering above me as he did, offered no opportunity for quick club work.

There was, however, a chance to use the knife, which I did without compunction. Leaping beneath his swinging arms, I buried it in the right side of his abdomen and ripped him across the belly. While he swayed drunkenly, I completed my rush to the temporary protection of the boulder, and as I turned with my back against it to meet the attack of the others, I saw him topple to the ground.

A moment later I was confronted by a semicircle of growling, roaring cave-apes, swinging their clubs menacingly, but a little different about approaching me too closely—probably because of what had happened to their companion. Mixed with the growling and roaring I could distinctly hear the patoan words "kill" and "meat," which sounded ominous enough.

The great tusked males seemed to be working themselves into a frenzy of fury as they came closer and closer—evidently their primitive way of attempting to overcome their fear of me.

Presently one leaped out ahead of the closing line, and swung his club for my head with a terrific downward, twohanded stroke. I stepped to the left, and forward, and as his club was shattered on the stone where I had been standing, the flinty edge of my own bit deeply into his cervical vertebrae. He fell on his face without a sound.

I sprang to a new position, brandishing my club menacingly, and the line of attackers moved back a little.

"Kill! Kill!" The word was repeated constantly now as the savage semicircle closed in once more.

"Come and be killed!" I replied.

"You will be next to die, food-man," roared a huge male who stood near the center of the line, "for Urg is about to kill you." Urg stood at least twelve feet in height, a head taller than the other males in the front line, and his great downcurving tusks, fully seven inches in length, gave him a most ferocious aspect.

He seemed about to spring forward, and I had braced myself for his attack, when there was a sudden commotion behind him. The milling crowd of apes drew back respectfully to make way for a huge male, taller and heavier even than Urg.

Just behind him walked two young females, one waving a fern frond to keep annoying insects away from him, while the other carried a huge gourd-like fungus with a bottle neck and a bowl made from a split sporepod. Behind these two walked more ape-maidens, some carrying fresh meat, while others bore bowls heaped high with fragments of edible fungi or sporepods, cracked, and ready for eating.

Coming up behind Urg, the newcomer carelessly pushed him aside and stood in the front line, surveying me with apparent boredom. At this, Urg gave a low growl, whereupon the larger ape smote him in the mouth.

"Growl again at Rorg, and you will feel the weight of his club."

"I did not know it was Rorg who pushed me," replied Urg.

"Why do you hesitate before this little food-man?" asked Rorg. "Do you fear him?"

"Of course not," answered Urg. "I was playing with him. I was about to kill him when you came up."

"I believe you fear him," continued Rorg. "I notice he slew your brother, Arg, who was as good a fighter as you. This is unusual for a food-man. He must be a mighty warrior among his people. It shall be for Rorg, mightiest of the cave-apes, to slay him."

"It is my right to kill him," growled Urg, "for he slew my brother."

"He will be killed when and how I ordain, for I am king." He swung on me once more. "Who are you, food-man," he asked, "and how did you slay my people?"

"I am Zinlo," I replied, "and I slew your people with the weapons of Chixa which I took from her."

"How could you take Chixa's weapons from her?" asked Rorg incredulously. "Why, she is ten times as strong as you. I do not believe it. Chixa gave you her weapons, so Chixa shall be slain."

"Chixa lies unconscious on the ground, Rorg," clucked a female. "This food-man must have taken her weapons by force."

"Chixa is feigning and shall be slain," said Rorg. "Such a thing would not be possible. Go and slay her, Urg."

All this time I had been standing guardedly, saying nothing; but when it became apparent that the female ape was about to be killed through no fault of her own, but because of something I had done, I felt a wave of pity for her. Brute and man-eater though she was, she had been considerate of me. After all, she was something like a woman.

"Rorg," I said, "I did not lie about taking her weapons from her, and I can prove it."

"How?"

"By taking the weapons from your strongest warrior in the same manner."

"Can you take Urg's weapons from him?" asked Rorg.

"Of course."

"Then you must be very strong or very clever. I like clever food-men. Sometimes I keep them for a long while when they are exceedingly clever. When they fail to amuse me they die. Let me see you take Urg's weapons, and I will spare your life for today, at least."

"But what of Chixa?"

"I will spare her life, also."

"Good. I will need plenty of room, and I demand your promise that I will not be attacked by any one other than Urg."

"You will have plenty of room, and you have my word that you will not be attacked or interfered with," said Rorg.

"Move back, then, all of you," I said, "until I tell you to stop."

The crowd drew back until the front line was a hundred feet from the rock in all directions.

"That is enough. Now, Urg, come here and I will take your weapons. I will go unarmed, and you must not have your weapons in your hands. You will walk beside me as if I were your prisoner fastened to a tether." With this I dropped weapons to the ground.

"It is a trick," growled Urg, but at Rorg's command he hung his flint knife around his neck, and hooked his club in the string around his waist. As the brute lumbered up beside me, and I saw what a mighty tower of strength he was, I must confess that I felt considerable doubt about being able to knock him out.

He strode along beside me, his great arms swinging at his sides. I timed my swing for the instant when the great paw nearest me was back, leaving the abdomen unguarded. Then I pivoted, landing my right fist in his solar plexus—all the force I could muster behind it.

With a grunt of surprise, he doubled forward as Chixa had done; but before I could swing for his jaw, he stood erect once more and reached for his club. His chin, by this time, was so high in the air that I could not reach it, and he had his plexus covered by his great forearm; there was nothing I could do with my fists. His shins; however, were exposed; I kicked the right one with my sandaled foot.

Uttering a howl of pain, he raised his foot and launched it at me, whereupon I grasped it with both hands, and twisting it with a sudden jerk that caused the bones to creak, turned his toes downward and his heel upward at the same time. This turned him completely around, and a quick push sent him on his face.

Before he could scramble erect, I leaped on his back, planting a heavy blow just beneath his ear. He shook himself in an effort to dislodge me, but I grasped one of his tusks with my left hand, and with my legs wrapped around him, continued to hammer him behind the furry ear.

Standing erect, he bellowed angrily, and releasing his grip on his club, grasped my left arm in his huge right hand. Wrenching my hand away from his tusk, he jerked me forward over his left shoulder and threw me to the ground fully twenty feet away. Fortunately for me, I alighted on my feet, and although I stumbled and fell, was unhurt.

I saw Urg coming toward me, but he reeled drunkenly.

Quickly springing to my feet, I leaped forward, whereupon he jerked his club from his belt and made a wild swing for my head. As his momentum bent him forward, I dodged, and leaping in, planted a blow in his right eye. He straightened, and I struck him in the solar plexus once more.

This time he doubled up, exposing his jaw, on which I planted a crashing right hook. Once more he stood erect, tottering unsteadily, and once more I doubled him up with a plexus blow, getting in a left to the jaw. He fell on his face as I sprang out of his way, finishing him with a blow behind the ear.

I slipped the knife cord from around his neck, and picked up the great saw-edged club which he had dropped. Then I leaped upon his back, and with one foot on his neck, brandished the weapons aloft, while a great howl went up from the mob around me.

From his place in the center of the line, Rorg walked slowly toward me, attended only by the female with the fern frond. I stepped down from the prostrate body of Urg as he approached, and slung the knife about my neck, also hooking the club in my belt. "Are you convinced?" I asked.

"I am convinced," replied Rorg. "You are clever enough to be kept alive for a while, and Chixa shall be spared."

It was then I noticed a gold bangle about Rorg's wrist. I saw that it was stamped with the coat of arms of Taliboz, and it followed that this must have belonged to one of his retainers.

"Where did you get the man who wore that bangle?" I asked.

"My warriors captured him with twelve other food-men, and a food-woman. We have eaten them all, except one man who is very clever, and the woman, who is very beautiful."

"Do you know the name of this clever food-man?" I asked.

"His servants called him Lord Taliboz," was the reply.

"And the food-woman?"

"A royal princess, fit only for royalty. I intend to wed her at the beginning of the next endir. Although I should like to wed her sooner, I will not depart from the customs and traditions of my forefathers, who married but one wife at a time and her at the beginning of each endir, thus taking but ten mates a year. I had intended Chixa for my next wife, but now she will have to wait for another endir."

"Is it customary for cave-apes to mate with food-people?"

"It is not," replied Rorg, "but we have no old law against it. I make all the new laws, and I have decreed that, hereafter, all Rogos of the Cave-Apes may marry food-women if they choose to do so."

"I have a great curiosity to see this food-man who is so clever and this beautiful food-woman," I said.

"You shall see them," replied Rorg. "Come with me. I want you to do some more clever tricks, anyway, to amuse my wives and children."

As I strolled away with Rorg I saw Urg stir slightly, then roll over and sit up, after which he tenderly felt his bruised jaw and the battered spot behind his ear.

CHAPTER VI

Rorg and I climbed high up the mountainside while his female attendants and the mob of cave-apes which had been so bent on killing me scrambled after us.

We were ascending the tallest peak of a chain of mountains which extended toward the north and south, their rugged slopes partly concealed by the various strata of gray clouds which floated lazily westward. And these mountains, as far as I could see, swarmed with cave-apes.

As we mounted steadily upward we passed many ape families, some of which were breakfasting while others appeared to be starting out on their morning quest for food. Tiny helpless infant apes were at their mothers' breasts. Spindle-legged, round-bellied ape children played about on the rocky slopes, or gnawed at bones, scraps of meat, edible fungi, and sporepods.

All of them, from babes to adults, watched me with their beady black eyes as I passed, but none made a hostile move or sound, evidently because of the awesome presence of Rorg.

At length we climbed over the rim of what had once been an active volcanic crater. It was shallow, filled with the litter of centuries. In the center a volcanic cone projected upward, and toward this we made our way across the debris-strewn crater floor. The walls of the crater, I noticed, were honeycombed with caves.

Enormous male apes, some of them nearly as large as Rorg, patrolled the rim of the crater, their saw-edged clubs swinging in their hairy paws. With these alert sentries always on duty, it was plain that escape from the crater would be most difficult and dangerous.

As we drew near to the mouth of the great central cave a number of females and young ones of assorted ages and sizes came out.

"These are my wives and children," said Rorg. "If you are as clever as I think you are, you will find a way to amuse them."

"I will find a way," I promised, "but first let me see this clever food-man and beautiful food-woman of whom you have told me."

"I will send for them at once."

Searching in the debris near the cave mouth, I picked up two well-dried finger bones which looked exactly alike. Palming one and displaying the other as I stood with my face to the audience and my back to the wall of the volcanic cone, I proceeded to perform some very simple tricks, such as making a finger bone disappear from my right hand—then seemingly plucking the same finger bone out of my ear with my left. I even appeared to remove six finger bones, one after another, from the ear of one of Rorg's half-grown male children.

My audience seemed intensely interested in what I was doing, but I noticed that no matter what tricks I performed, not one of them laughed. Then I remembered that, to them, I was actually doing the things I seemed to do.

Before I had performed many tricks I saw two figures coming toward me, each tethered by the ankle to the wrist of an enormous she-ape. Instantly, I recognized the purple-clad, black-bearded Taliboz, and the slender, scarlet-draped figure of Loralie.

Rorg, who had seated himself on a low boulder with his female attendants behind him, ordered Loralie to a place on his right and Taliboz on his left.

With right hand extended palm downward, I bowed low to the princess in the customary salute to royalty, but she did not respond, nor even give any indication that she had seen me. Instead, with a haughty toss of her pretty little head, she sat down at Rorg's right and, looking across at Taliboz, said something in a low voice which I could not quite catch. He smiled unpleasantly at me.

Puzzled at this singular and inexplicable show of dislike on the part of the princess, I mechanically went through several more tricks from the book of magic—then pocketed my bones and bowed.

"You are indeed clever, food-man," said Rorg. "You are even more clever than Taliboz. To pluck six bones from the ear of Vork! I will not eat you today. You may go now, without tether or guard, but do not attempt to pass the crater rim or you will die."

I walked away with the black beady eyes of the cave-apes staring after me and the sardonic grin of Taliboz following me. But Princess Loralie deliberately looked in another direction.

As I wandered about the crater I pondered the strange conduct of the princess. What could I have done—or what could Taliboz have told her—to arouse her anger and disdain to such a degree that she showed it even when we were both in deadly peril and should have united forces against a common enemy?

I was half oblivious of my surroundings until a hairy paw was laid heavily on my shoulder. Quickly whirling, I faced a huge ape about eleven feet in height whose scarred fur was spotted with gray, attesting his considerable age.

"I am Graak," he said. "Rorg sent me to feed you. I have food in my cave. Come."

The old warrior turned and I followed him across the crater past many ape families, who looked at me curiously, but manifested no special hostility. Presently we came to a rather small cave, the floor of which was littered with old and malodorous gnawed bones. From the partly devoured body of a huge ptang, or giant sloth with sharp upcurved claws, he carved a slice of raw meat which he handed me.

"I slew the ptang this morning," he said, "so it is fresh and good."

Casting about for fuel, I found a pile of dried fern fronds near the entrance. After powdering a quantity of them, I at length succeeded in igniting them by striking my flint knife against one of the buckles of my leather trappings, and soon had a small cooking fire crackling. Over this I held my ptang steak impaled on a fern frond.

Graak watched me with evident wonder. "You are indeed a sorcerer."

For three days and nights I ate the food which Graak brought me and slept in his cave. Although his manner was surly, he was never openly hostile. But all my attempts at cultivating his friendship failed.

I spend most of my daylight hours searching for the cave in which the princess was confined, but it was not until the morning of the fourth day that I found her, seated in the doorway of a cave quite near my own. She must have been purposely avoiding me.

I swallowed my injured pride, and stepping before her, bowed with right hand extended, palm downward. "Prince Zinlo craves a word with Her Highness, Princess Loralie."

She did not answer, but turning her head away as if she had not heard me, addressed something to her huge female guardian.

Without moving, I repeated my request.

She rose with flashing eyes. "Begone!" There was withering scorn in the look she gave me. "Annoy me further and I will call the apes and have you driven away."

I bowed and departed. There was nothing else left for me to do.

Just before I reached Graak's cave, I came face-to-face with Taliboz, walking with his huge female guard. He grinned maliciously and said, "Tomorrow is the first day of the fourth endir."

"Any fool knows that," I retorted.

"Perhaps any fool also knows that on the first day of each endir, Rorg takes a mate. And that if food-men are available, a food-man is served at the wedding feast." As I stared at him, he added, "Rorg has just promised me that I shall not be eaten tomorrow."

I sat down before Graak's smelly cave. On the morrow, Rorg was to take Princess Loralie as his mate, and there were but two food-men held prisoner by the cave-apes—Taliboz and myself.

As we breakfasted on fungi and sporepods the following day, Graak was more talkative than he had yet been. "Today is Rorg's mating day with the food-woman—if he lives," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Some of our bravest warriors do not want our race to degenerate by intermarriage with weaklings. There has been much talk, and I believe Rorg will be challenged."

"Who will challenge the king?"

"It is the privilege of any warrior to challenge the Rogo to a duel to the death on the mating-day. The warrior who succeeds in killing him becomes Rogo in his stead, and takes his prospective bride as well as his other wives, children and possessions."

"But suppose one of your warriors who does not believe as Rorg believes slays him. What will then become of the food-woman?"

"She will be eaten, and Chixa, who was cheated of her turn, will be taken as a mate."

As Graak and I finished our meal, I noticed that the crater was beginning to fill with apes. Young and old, male and female, they came at first in scattered family groups, but later in great droves, until the huge pit was literally seething with moving brown figures.

Presently a tall, yellow-tusked male shouldered his way through the crowd and stopped at the door of our cave.

"Rorg commands the presence of Zinlo, the food-man," he said.

As I trailed the huge ape through the jostling throng, I tried to formulate some plan of action by which the princess might be saved. Although I resented her attitude toward me, I felt the urge to fight in her defense.

We came at length to the mouth of Rorg's lair in the great central cone. Passing through the deserted cave, dimly illuminated by reflected light from the exterior, we stepped into a narrow runway which slanted upward in a long curving spiral.

As we progressed steadily upward, the way grew so dark that I was forced to hold out both hands to avoid running against the walls. Presently it became lighter once more, and in a few moments we emerged onto the flat, narrow top of the cone.

Squatting in a semicircle near one edge of the platform were a dozen cave-ape warriors. At one end of the semicircle I recognized Urg, the huge ape I had disarmed, leaning on his great, saw-edged club and looking as belligerent as before.

Near the rim just opposite this ring of warriors stood Taliboz and Princess Loralie. Although their huge female guards stood behind them, I noticed that their tethers had been removed. The traitorous Olban noble favored me with a leer as I emerged from the runway, but the princess would not so much as notice my coming.

In the very center stood Rorg, evidently awaiting my arrival as he looked down at the vast sea of upturned faces in the crater. I was placed with my back to the twelve warriors.

As soon as I had taken my position, Rorg held his sawedged club aloft. Instantly the vast murmur of voices from below was stilled.

"Your Rogo takes a mate," he bellowed, his deep tones reverberating from the surrounding crater walls. Then he leaped high in the air, brandishing his saw-edged club until the air sang and whistled through its teeth. Alighting with a loud smack of his leathery feet on the hard rock, so that he faced in a direction opposite to that in which he had previously looked, he roared once more, "Your Rogo takes a mate." Leaping, whirling, and alighting as he had done before, he made his announcement in four directions so that all might hear.

He then hurled his club high above his head, caught it deftly as it fell. "Who will fight Rorg for his bride? Who will fight Rorg for his kingdom? Speak now, or for another endir, keep silence."

There was a deep grumbling growl behind me, and, turning, I beheld Urg, fangs bared, stepping from his place at the end of the line, whirling his great club. "I will fight Rorg," he shouted in a voice as deep as that of the king-ape.

Rorg appeared surprised—annoyed. For a moment he stood motionless, glowering at his challenger. Then, with a bellow of rage, his club held high in one huge paw and his flint knife gripped in the other, he leaped to the attack.

The club descended in a deadly, whistling arc, but did not connect, for with cat-like quickness Urg leaped to one side and struck back. His club bit deep into Rorg's left shoulder, eliciting a roar of pain and rage from the Rogo, who instantly swung for his legs.

Urg sprang back, but not far enough. The flint-toothed point raked one knee, and blood spurted forth. As he danced about the larger ape, looking for another opening, he limped, and the limp grew more pronounced as the fight progressed.

Again and again Rorg rushed in. How Urg succeeded in evading those rushes, lame as he was, I was unable to understand. Presently his leg became useless, dangling, and he was forced to hop on one foot.

Over the brutal face of Rorg there crept a look of triumph. Deliberately, now, he advanced toward his opponent, forcing him backward until he stood on the very brink of the plateau.

He leaped in, and as Urg swung a slashing blow for his neck, he ducked, at the same time whirling his club in a low, horizontal arc. It caught the challenger halfway between knee and ankle; there was a snap of severed bones, and Urg toppled backward to alight on his head on the rocks seventy-five feet below.

Scarcely had he struck ere the milling horde beneath rushed to the spot, brandishing their flint knives. In less time than it takes to tell, the body had been dismembered, and a snarling group of apes was fighting over the fragments.

Again Rorg leaped in the air, bellowing forth his deep-voiced challenge. Although there were low growls from the ape-warriors standing behind me, none answered the challenge.

"Who will fight Rorg for his bride and his kingdom?" The final challenge was flung out by the victorious king-ape as he looked triumphantly about him. "Speak now, or…"

"I'll fight you, Rorg," I said, drawing club and knife and stepping in front of the giant. As I did so I caught a fleeting glimpse of Taliboz and Loralie. On the face of the traitor was pleased anticipation. The eyes of the princess showed surprise, and something more. Incredible as it appeared from her recent actions, it was undoubtedly concern for my safety.

But these were only fleeting impressions.

Rorg stared incredulously down at me for a moment, evidently unable to believe that I had actually challenged the king of the cave-apes. Then he struck at me quickly, but not exerting his full strength, as if I were some insect annoying him.

Instinctively I used my club as if it had been a sword—parrying the blow with ease and countering with a thrust which bit into his furry abdomen, drawing blood and eliciting a grunt of rage and pain.

Although the club was so constructed that I could not hope to inflict a mortal wound by thrusting the sharp flint teeth with which it was armed, it could and did cause considerable pain and annoyance. As the cave-ape system of fighting was merely that of striking and dodging. I hoped to offset my adversary's enormous advantage of strength and reach by employing the technique of a swordsman.

With an angry bellow, Rorg swung a terrific blow for my legs. Again I parried, and countered with a neck cut which would probably have terminated the engagement in my favor had it not been blocked by one of his huge tusks. The tusk snapped off and clattered to the rock; but as a result, the club wounded him only slightly, adding to his fury.

Foaming at the mouth and gnashing his teeth in his rage, the king-ape beset me with a rain of blows that would have been irresistible to any but a trained swordsman. Splinters and bits of broken flint flew from our clubs as time and again I parried his terrific blows.

After each blow I countered with a cut or thrust, and soon my opponent was bleeding from head to foot; yet his strength and quickness seemed rather to increase with each fresh wound. Had he possessed a swordsman's training, I verily believe that ape would have been invincible on his own planet or any other.

Presently I succeeded in raking him across the forehead with the point of my weapon, so that the blood ran down in his eyes, half blinding him. But he wiped the blood away with the back of one huge paw and countered with a blow, the force of which numbed my wrist and splintered my club into fragments.

I leaped back, then hurled the club handle straight for the great, snarling mouth as he bounded forward to finish me. It struck him in the front teeth, breaking off several and momentarily bewildering him.

In that moment I leaped, and with the fingers of my left hand entwined in the wiry hair of his chest and my legs gripping his waist, I buried my flint knife again and again in his brawny neck. Blood spurted from his pulsing jugular as he endeavored to shake me off, to reach me with his sharp fangs, and to gore me with his single remaining tusk. But his mighty strength was spent—his lifeblood draining.

A quiver shook the giant frame and like some tall tree of the forest felled by the woodman's axe, he toppled backward, crashing to the ground.

Leaping quickly to my feet, I seized the club of the fallen ape-monarch and, brandishing it aloft, said, "Rorg is dead, and Zinlo is king. Who will fight Zinlo? Who will be next to die?"

From the throats of several of the ape-warriors in the semicircle from which Urg had come, came low growls, but none advanced, and the growls subsided as I singled out in turn with my gaze each of the truculent ones who had voiced them.

Far below me, the mob of apes was clamoring, "Meat! We want our meat!"

I knew that, spent as I was, the enormous body of Rorg was more than I could raise aloft and hurl to the mob below, so I had recourse to an old wrestling trick. Seizing the limp right arm of the fallen king-ape, I dragged the body to the edge of the cliff. Then, bringing the arm over my shoulder in an application of the principle of the lever, I heaved the remains of Rorg over my head.

A moment later the milling beasts below were tearing the carcass to pieces, snarling and snapping over their feast. This custom, I afterward learned, had been established in consequence of the belief that the flesh of a strong, brave individual would confer strength and bravery on the one who devoured it.

Again I brandished my club aloft, shouting, "Who will fight Zinlo for his kingdom? Speak now, or keep silence for another endir."

This time I heard not even a single growl from the warriors on the cone top.

An old warrior who had lost both tusks, an ear, and several of his fingers, stepped from the ranks and advanced to the cliff edge. "Rorg is dead," he announced. "Farewell to Rorg."

Following his words, a peculiar, quavering cry went up from the throats of the thousands of apes congregated in the crater, as well as from those on the plateau. So weird and mournful did it sound that I shivered involuntarily.

As the last plaintive notes died away, the old warrior shouted, "Zinlo is king. Hail, Zinlo!"

A deafening din followed as the ape-horde, brandishing knives and clubs aloft and clattering them together, cried, "Hail, Zinlo!"

I turned in triumph toward the spot where Taliboz and Loralie had been seated, intending to assure the princess that it would not be necessary now for her to marry the king of the cave-apes. To my surprise, I saw that both of them had disappeared. The two huge females who had been guarding them sat, side by side, slumped against a large boulder, their chins sunk forward on their hairy chests.

Bounding forward I seized one of the she-apes by the shoulder and shook her, shouting, "Where are your prisoners?"

Her limp body sagged forward, falling on the ground. The second female, when shaken, showed some signs of returning consciousness.

"What happened?" I asked. "Where are your prisoners?"

Weakly she pointed to a needlelike glass sliver embedded in her arm. Extracting it, I instantly recognized it for a tork projectile of the type which temporarily paralyzes its victim. In the arm of the other, a similar projectile was embedded.

Although he had been disarmed by the apes, it was evident that Taliboz had managed to keep his ammunition belt, and that during the excitement of my fight with Rorg, he had found the opportunity to paralyze the two female guards and slip away with the princess.

That she had gone with him willingly I could not doubt, for she had made no outcry, and her previous treatment of me had led me to believe that she would sooner have accepted Rorg for a mate than me.

I turned away, the sweetness of victory grown bitter in my mouth. I was about to enter the runway which led to the cave below, when a small, glittering object attracted my attention. Stooping, I picked it up and examined it minutely for a moment. Then a great light dawned on me.

CHAPTER VII

HURRYING DOWN the runway into the great cave below, I was about to rush out into the daylight to examine the small object I had found, when a long, muscular arm suddenly went about my shoulders, my head was crushed against a soft, furry breast, and a pair of pendulous lips caressed my cheek.

With the heel of my hand I pushed the face of a she-ape from mine and broke her embrace. Surprised, I recognized Chixa. She advanced toward me again, arms outstretched, but I motioned her off.

"Stand back," I warned her. "What do you mean by this familiarity?"

"But I am your mate," replied Chixa. "You have slain Rorg and the other she has run away. Rorg chose me for his mate before the food-woman came."

"Rorg chose his own mates, and I'll choose mine," I retorted. "What's this you say about the other she running away?"

The food-man and she came down the runway together. I let them escape. I did not want the food-woman to take my place."

"But how could they escape when the place is surrounded?"

"The food-man knew of the inner passageway," replied Chixa. "I showed him where it was…Am I not as comely as the other shes of my people?"

"No doubt you are the most comely, Chixa, but I will never mate with a cave-ape. You say this she went willingly with the food-man?"

"She did. I think they will be mates."

"Chixa," I said, walking to the entrance and examining the small glittering object that I had picked up, "you have lied to me."

"I lied," admitted Chixa, not one whit abashed, "but how do you know? You must be a sorcerer, as Graak said."

"I know by this small, broken glass needle, one end of which is stained with blood," I replied. "Call it magic, if you like, but this needle tells me that the she was carried away by the food-man."

"It is even as you say," conceded Chixa. "She was unconscious from the magic of the food-man, and her arm was bleeding."

"Show me the entrance to the inner passageway," I commanded.

Chixa sulked, and crouched in a corner.

"Show me the entrance," I said again, "or I will kill you by magic and feed you to the crowd outside."

Evidently the threat to kill her by magic—the fear of the unknown—was more potent than any ordinary death threat could possibly have been, for she rose, and, walking to the back of the cave, heaved a great slab of rock to one side, disclosing the dark mouth of a runway.

"It was this way they went," she said, "but you will never find them. By this time they will have taken trails where none but our greatest trackers could scent them out.

"Who is your best tracker?"

"Graak is the greatest of them all."

"Go instantly," I commanded, "and bring Graak to me. See that my command is carried out at once, or my magic will follow and slay you."

"I go," she responded fearfully, and hurried from the cave.

I fidgeted impatiently until she returned with Graak, who unhesitatingly offered to obey his new Rogo. Stooping, he entered the passageway. I hurried after him with my hands outstretched in the inky blackness in front of me to prevent dashing myself against the curving walls. We must have gone two miles in this manner before twilight loomed ahead, followed by daylight, and we emerged in the open air on a narrow shelf of rock against which the topmost fronds of a giant tree fern brushed. Around and beyond this mighty fern stretched a forest of its fellows, coming up to the very edge of the mountains that held the homes of the cave-apes.

Graak sniffed the air for a moment, then leaped for the nearest fern frond, which sagged beneath his weight as he caught it with both hands. His great body swung precariously a full seventy feet above the ground as he went up the slanting frond, hand over hand, until he reached the trunk. After sniffing at this for a moment, he descended, feet first, to the ground.

I followed his example, making much more work of it than he, and descending so slowly that he stamped impatiently before I reached the ground. I wondered how Taliboz had been able to negotiate this route with his inert burden until I noticed a long, slender cord dangling from the end of one of the fern fronds, its lower end about ten feet from the ground. The traitorous noble had evidently lowered Loralie by means of this cord to within reach of the ground, where he had evidently cut her loose and carried her off.

While Graak fidgeted impatiently, I leaped and caught the end of the cord. I called him to help me, and together we pulled until the frond broke off and came crashing to the ground. With my flint knife I quickly cut the cord from the branch and, coiling it about my body, told Graak to proceed. Feeling that we might have a journey ahead of us, I thought of several ways in which the cord might be useful.

We had not gone more than a mile in the fern forest when the cave-ape pointed to a set of smaller footprints beside Taliboz's and said, "The she walked from here."

Recovering at this point from the paralysis induced by the tork projectile, she had gone on with her abductor, willingly or not.

Although the footprints led at first toward the west, they presently began to turn southwest, toward the coast.

For many hours we followed the trail without food or drink; then Graak stopped in a clump of bush ferns which furnished us pure, fresh water. He next plucked some sporepods, cracking them with his teeth. I split some open with my knife. They had a pleasant, nutlike flavor.

We resumed our journey until the advent of sudden darkness, when we climbed into the leaf-crown of a tall tree fern to pass the night there.

Graak fell asleep at once, but I could not. No sooner had darkness descended on the forest than the night-roaming carnivora were astir, making the night hideous with their cries—howling awoos, the horrid, mirthless laughter of hyenalike hahoes, the terrific roars of marmelots, the death-cries of the victims.

I think the gentle rocking of the trees, together with the rustling of the countless millions of fern leaves, lulled me to slumber. At any rate, I was awakened by the great hairy paw of Graak pulling at my arm, which I had thrown across my face—a habit of mine while sleeping. "The light has come," he said, "and Graak is hungry. Let us find food and be gone."

As I followed him down the rough, scaly trunk, I was struck by the contrast of the daylight sounds. I could hear only the buzzing of insects, the silvery toned warbling of the awakened songbirds, the occasional snort or grunt of some herbivore feeding, and the peculiar squawking cries of the queer bird-reptiles called aurks.

Graak and I had only traveled a short distance on the trail when he suddenly stiffened and, looking upward, said, "Good food! A ptang!"

Following the direction of his gaze, I saw a large, hairless slothlike creature hanging upside down on a thick fern frond which bent downward beneath its weight. The ptang was unconcernedly munching leaves without so much as a glance in our direction.

The cave-ape bounded to the base of the tree and quickly ascended, to climb out on the limb where the stupid creature was feeding, paying no attention to the approaching danger.

Graak swung by a prehensile foot and hand, and struck with his saw-edged club, laying the side of the creature's head wide open at the first blow. It ceased its feeding, but did not attempt either to fight or run away, though its powerful legs were armed with long, hooked claws. Again Graak swung his club. The animal's head hung limply downward and a shiver ran through its frame.

Replacing his club in his belt string, the cave-ape drew his flint knife and pried the hooked claws one by one from their grip on the limb. The ptang crashed downward through the branches to the ground.

When we had eaten our fill, the ape and I each cut off as large a portion of the animal as could conveniently be carried, and started once more on the trail.

We had not gone far when Graak pointed out a place where Taliboz and the princess had stopped to eat, the night before. A little farther on the trail, we came to the base of a large tree fern in whose leaf crown they had passed the night. Evidently they were not more than an hour ahead of us.

As we hurried forward and the scent grew stronger and stronger, the cave-ape showed all the excitement of a hound on a fresh game trail—which it was, to his mind.

Presently he stopped, tensely alert, sniffing and listening.

"What is it?" I asked in a whisper.

"A marmelot follows them," replied Graak, pointing to the footprints in the leaf mold.

Looking down, I saw, sometimes between their tracks, sometimes obliterating part of them, the spoor of a gigantic feline, so heavy that it sank to a depth of nearly a foot with each step.

Then carne the scream of a woman in deadly terror, only a short distance ahead, followed by the crashing of underbrush and a terrific rumbling growl which I recognized only too well.

Graak instantly took to the trees, but I unlimbered my club and knife and dashed forward.

Hurrying as fast as I could in the soft leaf mold, dodging through fern-brakes and tripping over creepers, I presently floundered out into a little glade where a most fearsome sight met my eyes.

Rolling about on the ground, snapping, tearing and clawing at everything that came within its reach, was a magnificent marmelot, apparently in its death throes.

I had not taken three steps before the creature quivered, subsided, and lay still.

Looking about for the princess and her abductor, I was startled by a warning cry from almost directly above me, "Zinlo! Behind you!" It was the voice of Loralie.

Whirling, I saw Taliboz standing behind the broad trunk of a tree fern. In his left hand he held an object which I recognized as a clip for tork projectiles. Balanced in his right hand with its base against his palm and its length parallel with his fingers was one of the needle-like glass bullets, ready to throw. Even as I looked, he hurled it straight for my face.

I ducked my head just in time, heard the bullet strike a fern trunk behind me, and sprang forward. But he quickly pulled another from the clip and I saw that I could not reach him in time to use my weapons; nor could I, close as I was, again hope to avoid the throw by dodging.

With a grin of triumph on his features, he swung back his arm, poised it for a moment to get his aim, then brought it swiftly forward, his fingers pointing directly at my breast.

"Die, stripling!" he grated between clenched teeth.

But a strange thing happened. Instead of feeling the sting of the needle in my breast, I saw him go limp and slump down in his tracks.

I learned the cause as I bent over to, examine him. The needle bullet which he had intended for my breast had pierced one of his fingers instead. Rolling him over, I took his tork ammunition belt and buckled it about my own waist. I picked up the clip which he had dropped when he fell, and, closing the ejector, replaced it in the belt.

Then I looked up in the direction from which the warning voice of Loralie had come down to me. For a moment only I saw her beautiful face peering down at me between the parted fronds of a leaf-crown. Then a huge hairy arm reached downward, encircled her slender waist, and drew her backward. She cried out in deadly fear as the parted fronds snapped back in place, hiding her from view.

I caught a glimpse of Graak mounting one of the rope-like vines; beneath his left arm he carried the drooping form of Loralie. Then they both disappeared into the thick tangle of vegetation above.

"Stop, Graak!" I called. "Come back, or I will slay you with my magic."

No answer.

I leaped for the nearest fern trunk, intent on following, when suddenly, without the slightest hint of warning, a long sinuous object whipped through the air and coiled itself about me. With its deadly fangs gleaming in gaping jaws quite close to my face, and cloven tongue darting forth menacingly, the glistening beady eyes of a gigantic whistling serpent stared hypnotically into mine.

Swiftly, relentlessly, the mighty coils tightened about my body while the horrible head moved rhythmically back and forth, just above my face. My club was caught beneath the scaly folds of my assailant, but I managed to jerk my flint knife free, and with this I struck at the swaying, silver-white throat. But the covering was tougher than I had thought, and I only succeeded in chipping off a few scales.

The muscular coils that encircled me grew tighter. It seemed to me that my ribs must crack at any moment. My breathing was reduced to short, spasmodic gasps.

Then I thought of the tork projectiles. With my flint knife I pried the ammunition belt up from beneath an encircling coil. Quickly extracting a clip, I opened the ejector, pressed the button, and a small, sharp needle popped out. I slid it under the edge of a scale and pressed. Scarcely had I done so when the crushing folds about me began to relax; the swaying head dropped limply downward, and I tugged and wriggled until I was free.

Still gasping for breath, I closed the safety catch of the clip and replaced it in my belt. I noticed that it was marked in patoa: "Tork projectiles—deadly."

As soon as I was able to breathe with reasonable normality once more, I climbed the tallest tree fern in the vicinity, and from its lofty leaf-crown looked out over the tree-tops in the hope of locating Graak and the princess. But although I scanned the forest in every direction I could not catch sight of them.

Far back toward the northeast, the mountains of the cave-apes were barely discernible through the gray-blue mistiness that hung over the jungle. Toward the southwest, and closer, was another mountain range—gray, forbidding peaks much higher than those of the cave-apes.

As he was, by nature, a cave dweller, I decided that Graak would eventually seek a mountain home. Having disobeyed me, King of the Cave-Apes, he would not dare return to the mountains of his tribe. I might very logically expect him to head for the other mountains. When I had caught my last glimpse of him he actually was starting toward the southwest. I decided to travel that way, zigzagging across my plotted course in the hope that I might eventually pick up his trail.

Having made my decision, I descended to the ground and set out toward the unknown mountains.

I was in the middle of my second zigzag toward the south when I came across the trail of Graak. Dainty but significant beside those of the cave-ape were the tiny footprints of Loralie. As I followed the trail I twice saw the records of her attempts at escape—where she had tried to run away, but had been caught.

Now travel became far more difficult. My first warning of the changed terrain was when I sank hip-deep into a sticky quagmire, only saving myself from complete immersion in the soft mud by grasping a stout vine that hung across my path, and swinging up into firmer ground. I noticed that fungi and lichens were beginning to predominate.

Gradually the tree ferns and cycads were replaced by gigantic toadstools of variegated forms and colors, and huge morels, some of which reared their cone-like heads more than fifty feet in the air. Jointed reeds rattled like skeletons in the breeze; lichens upholstered rotted stumps and fallen logs, and algae filled the treacherous, stagnant pools that grew more numerous as I advanced, making it difficult to tell which was the water and which the land.

It was comforting for me to know that the flight of Graak was being even more retarded than mine. He had to test each bit of ground before treading on it, while I had but to follow his footsteps.

Suddenly I heard, only a short distance ahead of me, the angry roar of the cave-ape, followed by a woman's scream of terror.

At first I thought Graak had sighted me, and I dashed forward to meet him with club and knife ready. But before I had taken a dozen steps I heard his voice raised in a howl of pain, and soon he was alternately bellowing and snarling as if in intense agony.

I caught sight of Graak and the princess at the same time. The ape, his fierce cries now reduced to mere whimpering, was on his back surrounded by a half dozen of the strangest and most horrifying creatures I have ever seen.

Writhing, squirming, extending, contracting, they had no set form, but could change themselves instantly from limbless, egg-shaped bodies three feet long to the semblance of snakes fifteen feet in length, or any of the intermediate lengths between the two. They were clinging to the fallen cave-ape with grotesque, three-cornered sucker mouths, and from the edges of some of them I could see blood dripping.

Before I could reach him, Graak's whimpering subsided, his struggles ceased, and I knew that he was beyond help. His assailants, finding him quiescent, settled down uniformly in the shape of extended ovoids about four feet in length, to drain the rest of his blood.

From a position of temporary safety, the princess looked down in horror. She was on the umbrella-like top of a toadstool about fifteen feet in height, evidently having been tossed there by Graak when he had been attacked, for there was no way she could have reached that point unassisted. Climbing rapidly toward her were two more of the hideous things, leaving slimy trails on the stem.

Bounding forward, I swung my club at the nearest creature, expecting to cut it in two with the sharp, saw-edge of my weapon. To my surprise and consternation, the club failed to make the slightest impression, but bounced off as if it had struck extremely springy rubber, and nearly flew from my grasp.

The hideous head with its three-cornered suck mouth was instantly extended toward me, and again I struck—this time from the side. Although the blow made no more impression on the tough skin of the creature than before, it broke the hold of the thing on the stem of the mushroom and sent it whirling and writhing a full twenty feet away.

The other thing on the stem stretched out to seize me, but I dealt it a backhand blow which sent it squirming and wriggling in the opposite direction.

A quick glance around showed me that the surrounding marsh was literally alive with these horrible creatures. Evidently excited by the sound of the conflict—or possibly by the smell of blood—they erected ugly swaying heads to investigate, then came crawling toward us, leaving slimy trails in their wake.

There was only one thing for me to do in order to save the princess, or even to save myself: I must find a way to get to the top of the toadstool with her. But this was a good fifteen feet from the ground, and the marshy soil was not particularly conducive to high jumping, as it clung to the feet with each step.

As I looked about for some means wherewith to accomplish my purpose the ring of attackers closed in on me. Then came an inspiration. About twenty feet from the toadstool on which the girl stood was a clump of huge, jointed reedlike growths. Several of them, which reached to a height of more than forty feet, bent slightly toward it.

I managed to reach them just ahead of the advancing army of attackers and climbed the largest one with an agility of which I had never even imagined myself capable. One of the slimy things that sought my lifeblood instantly wound its body around the reed and followed, then another and another, until the stalk below me was covered with their snaky forms.

As I climbed upward, the reed gradually bent over toward the top of the toadstool, so that when I reached a height of a little over thirty feet, I was directly above it. Swinging my legs free, I hung on for a moment with my hands, then let go. As I alighted on the center of the toadstool cap, the reed shot upward like a steel spring, hurling its slimy occupants far out across the marsh as if they had been shot from a catapult.

No sooner had I alighted than there was a cry of terror from Princess Loralie. Turning, I saw her crouching in fear beneath the ugly head of one of our attackers, its neck arched and its three-cornered sucking mouth, armed with thousands of razor-sharp cutting teeth, ready to strike.

I swung my club, knocking the thing to the ground, but no sooner had I done so than another came up over the edge of the toadstool, quickly followed by two more. Soon the entire rim became alive with the swaying, wriggling heads, and I was kept busy every second of the time knocking them back to the ground.

"Give me your club, Prince Zinlo," said Loralie after I had been at this strenuous work for some time, "and let me help you. If we take turns with rests between for each, we can last longer. The swamp dwellers are persistent, and we are doomed, it seems—but let us fight while life lasts."

"I am not tired," I insisted, rather breathlessly, but she came and seized the club, making it necessary for me either to use force with her or surrender it. I yielded, watching her to see if she could manage it. Despite her small size she proved surprisingly strong.

But she soon grew weary, and I took the club once more. It was a hopeless fight; day was fast waning, and in the black, moonless darkness of Venus we would soon be dragged down to meet the fate of the bloodless carcass that had once been Graak, now staring sightlessly up into the leaden sky.

CHAPTER VIII

I WAS running around the rim of the toadstool cap, knocking off the slimy things that sought to drink our blood, and Princess Loralie was crouching fearfully in the center, when suddenly I heard a crashing and splashing through the marsh behind me, accompanied by queer noises that sounded much like a combination of a bleat and a bellow.

Glancing back for a moment between gasps, I saw coming toward us an immense humpbacked reptile sinking flankdeep in the watery ooze with each step as it crashed through the reeds in its apparent endeavor to escape from some mortal enemy, and uttering the queer cries of distress I had heard. I could see its long snakelike neck curved back as, with its small jaws it would jerk the swamp creatures first from one side then the other.

Coincident with the appearance of this huge reptile, the heads of the swamp dwellers stopped reappearing above the edge of our toadstool cap. They had abandoned their attack on us in favor of the larger quarry.

Thicker and thicker they swarmed around the great dinosaur. For every blood-hungry thing the giant lizard tossed in the air, at least ten squirmed up to fasten their sucker mouths on its heaving sides, until the reptile's back resembled the wave-tossed bottom of a capsized ship covered with immense barnacles.

Gradually the speed of the great beast slowed down. It stopped. Then its struggles grew weaker, and the doomed saurian uttered a final cry and sank down in the ooze.

So absorbed had I been in this titanic battle that I had momentarily forgotten our own danger.

"Our enemies have momentarily forgotten us," I said then. "Shall we make a dash for liberty?"

"It is our only chance," she replied.

Swinging over the edge of the toadstool, I dropped to the ground. Loralie swung her small, athletic body over the edge as I had done, and dropped into my waiting arms.

As I stood there, ankle deep in the ooze with that shapely young form close to me, I suddenly forgot our danger—forgot everything except that she lay there in my arms, her head thrown back, glorious dark eyes that were pools of lambent flame looking up into mine. But when, intoxicated with her nearness, I would have crushed her to me, she suddenly twisted free from my arms and ran, leaping lightly as a startled fawn in the direction of the mountains to the southwest.

Club in hand I followed her as closely as I could, meanwhile keeping a sharp lookout for swamp dwellers. But they were too busy feasting.

As we approached the foothills the ground became drier and firmer, and the character of the vegetation once more underwent a gradual change; cycads and low-growing conifers were mostly in evidence. Soon we were climbing steep hillsides, with the ground continually becoming more rugged and the vegetation more sparse.

During our progress Loralie had not addressed a word to me, or noticed my presence in any way. I felt I must have offended her by holding her over-long in my arms. Yet for that fleeting moment I would have sworn I had seen in her starry eyes the reflection of emotions akin to my own, and quite unlike her unnatural aversion to me in the caves of the ape.

When we arrived in a small isolated copse of water ferns, I decided it was time to halt for rest and refreshment.

"Here are food and drink," I said. "Let us stop for a while."

Without answering, she sank down wearily on a mound of soft moss and turning, buried her face in her arms. In a moment she began weeping softly.

I broke off a branch of water fern and knelt beside her, trying to get her to sit up.

"Don't touch me!" she wailed. "Go away."

"Oh, very well," I snapped, and ate and drank by myself—without much appetite. Then, I set about equipping myself with more efficient weapons.

I soon fashioned a bow, which I strung with a piece of the tough cord I had brought with me. Some reeds which I had gathered en route I made into arrows by tipping them with slivers of stone bound in place with the cord. I bound bits of fern leaf in place of feathers. A quiver I made from ptang-hide which was wrapped around the piece of meat I had brought with me.

Several hours elapsed in these pursuits, and my too temperamental companion had in the interval sobbed herself to sleep.

I had scarcely finished cooking some ptang meat when I saw the princess stir and open her eyes. For a moment she seemed startled by the strangeness of her surroundings. Then she sat up, and catching the appetizing scent of my roasting meat, looked hungrily toward it—then resolutely away.

"The Prince of Olba," I said, "would be greatly honored if the Princess of Tyrhana would join him at dinner. The royal butler is about to serve."

Despite her attempt at severity, I saw a slight smile play around the corners of her adorable little mouth. Then she turned her head away once more.

Placing my roast on some broad, clean leaves which I had spread over the moss for the purpose, I walked over to where she sat.

"I say, young lady," I remarked severely. "Don't you think you have carried this foolish perversity of yours about far enough? I can't imagine what makes you act like a badly spoiled child. I've a notion to spank you."

She tried to maintain her dignity, but I saw her lips quivering.

"Forgive me," I said. "Perhaps it is I who am wrong. If I have done anything to hurt your feelings, I'm sincerely sorry. I am not desirous of forcing my attentions on you, but I can't leave you alone in this wilderness. You make it hard, extremely hard for me to be of service to you."

She looked up at me, her beautiful eyes brimming—tears clinging to the long dark lashes. "You are so kind, and so brave. I wish those other things were not true."

"What other things?" I asked in surprise, sitting down beside her. "Has someone been talking about me?"

"I cannot betray those who have reposed confidence in me," she said, "nor can I doubt the testimony of many witnesses. Yet it does not seem possible."

"I'm sure I don't understand what you are driving at. Pray tell me of what monstrous crime I am accused, and permit me at least a chance to defend my character."

"You were accused…Oh, I cannot say it!" She looked at me reproachfully, then turned her head away and swallowed bard to keep from crying.

"It must have been horrible. Won't you tell me what it was?"

"Of making love to that Chixa," she faltered.

The evidence might seem to point that way, I realized, particularly if it were distorted by someone bent on maligning my character. I quickly told her how I had won the she-ape's weapons and my freedom. "Do you not believe me?" I demanded at last.

"On this matter I believe you," she answered with some relief, "but there is still that other affair."

"What other affair?" I asked.

"Your affair with the young sister of Taliboz. Why did you betray that trusting child—betray her and run away—so that her brother must needs come after you to bring you back at the point of a tork? It was dastardly-cowardly. I denied it—fought against believing it, but there were so many witnesses I was at last convinced."

"If Taliboz has a sister, I do not know it, nor have I ever seen her. This story was fabricated from whole cloth. There is not even seeming evidence in this case as there was with Chixa."

"But Taliboz himself told me," she insisted, "and five of his men substantiated his story at various times. I wanted to disbelieve this thing, but what could I do?"

"You were convinced of a monstrous falsehood, for which Taliboz will one day answer, as he will for his numerous other crimes—if he has not already answered, back there in the fern forest, to some jungle creature. I swear to you that if Taliboz has a sister I do not even know of her existence."

"It seems strange," she answered, "that the sister of an illustrious noble of Olba should be unknown to the Crown Prince. Surely she must have been much at court."

"Perhaps she was. Never having been there myself, I cannot say."

She looked at me in amazement—unbelief so clearly written on her features that I saw that I had gone too far. I must either tell all now, or have nothing believed.

"In order that you may understand this singular statement," I said, "I am going to tell you who I really am."

"No doubt you are a reincarnation of the god Thorth. Pray do not weary me further with lies."

"The story I am going to tell," I answered, "will tax your credulity to the uttermost, yet I hope some day to be able to prove it to you. I am not of Olba, nor even of this planet."

I explained to her, as best I could, how I had been transported from Mars to Earth and thence to Venus-Zarovia. To my surprise, she seemed not only credulous, but actually well versed on the subject.

"You seem to know more about these phenomena than most scientists," I said.

"There is a reason for my intense interest in the subject," she replied. "My uncle Bovard is one of the greatest scientists on all Zarovia. There is but one who is considered greater than he."

"Vorn Vangal?"

"Yes, but how did you know?"

"Vorn Vangal," I answered, "is Dr. Morgan's Zarovian ally, the man who made it possible for me to come to this planet."

"Dr. Morgan? What an uncivilized sound the name has! Vorn Vangal I know well."

"Then you believe my story?" I asked.

"Implicitly." And she smiled thrillingly at me.

"And you know Taliboz was lying?"

"Of course. Are you going to sit there and question me all day, or will you have the royal butler serve dinner? I am famished."

The roast had grown cold but was nonetheless delicious. I carved as best I could with my flint knife, and we made out very well, finishing up with the contents of a few spore pods, washed down with drafts of cold water from the fronds of the water fern.

"And now," I said, when we had finished dinner, "we must look about for a place of shelter from the night-moving meat-eaters."

There were many caverns in the rocky hillsides, but the mouths were too large or too numerous to be barricaded. And an unbarricaded cave in the Zarovian wilderness would prove to be a trap.

We traveled far before we found a cave that seemed suited to our purpose. Without taking time to explore its interior—for I knew that the sudden darkness would soon be upon us—made haste to collect heavy rocks for the doorway, delegating Loralie, meanwhile, to gather sticks for fuel which I intended to keep in the cave as a fiery defense against possible attackers.

Darkness caught us with our labors unfinished, and I kindled a small fire just outside the cave mouth that we might complete our work by its light.

I was just rolling up the great stone which was to finish my barricade when the hideous roar of a marmelot sounded near by. It was taken up, a moment later, by others of its kind, until the echoing hills resounded with the thunderous cries of these fierce beasts.

"Quick!" I called to Loralie. "Into the cave with you!"

She started in, then backed out in terror. "There's something in there now, and it's coming out after us."

Then, as the frightened girl cowered against me, I heard a hoarse, booming croak from the cave and saw two glowing, menacing eyes moving toward us from the darkness of the interior.

CHAPTER IX

STANDING WITHIN the ring of light cast by our small fire, with Loralie crouching fearfully at my feet, I fitted an arrow to my bowstring. I drew it back to the head, took careful aim between the two glowing eyes that were advancing from the dark interior of the cave, and let fly.

Immediately after the twang of the bow there came a deep bellow of rage from the interior of the cave.

As I fitted a second arrow in place, there was a terrific roar behind me. Turning, I beheld the gleaming eyes of a marmelot not more than fifty feet distant. I let fly, and the arrow struck the huge feline just as the enraged cave creature came forth.

Prepared as I was for the appearance of one of the fierce creatures of the Zarovian jungle, a chill of horror ran down my spine when the grotesque tenant of the cave waddled out into the light.

It was obviously a reptile—not an animal as I had supposed. Although its entire length was not more than six feet, fully two-thirds of that length was mouth—enormous jaws four feet long and a yard across, armed with row upon row of sharp, back-curved teeth. The other third was a round sack, or pouch, attached to the back of the head.

It walked on two short, thick legs growing from beneath its ears, each armed with three sharp talons. There were no forelegs. Both head and body bristled with a profusion of sharp spines like those of a horned toad.

"A kroger!" cried Loralie. "We are lost!"

As the thing charged toward us with enormous jaws distended, I heard the marmelot bounding through the brush from the opposite direction.

"Come," I cried, taking the girl's hand. Together we leaped across the fire and into the shadow of the bushes beyond. Scarcely had we gained this place of temporary safety ere the two formidable creatures, beast and reptile, met on the spot where we had been standing.

The marmelot, apparently surprised at being confronted by this strange anomaly, stopped, spat, and arched its back like a startled cat. But the kroger, undaunted at sight of the huge king of the jungles, which was easily twice its size, charged on. With a snap of its immense jaws, the reptile took in at one bite the head and neck of the mighty carnivore.

Like a cat caught in a salmon tin, the marmelot alternately shook its head, clawed at the scaly throat, or belly—I know not which to call it—and ran blindly about. Presently it rolled over on its back, and drawing the round body of the kroger toward it with its two front legs, literally scratched it to ribbons with its terrible hind claws. Yet the immense jaws held firmly, inexorably; in fact, they seemed to be clamping down tighter and tighter all the time, sinking more deeply into the flesh of the great feline with every move it made.

The struggles of the combatants presently grew weaker, but as the sounds of battle died down the noises in the fern brakes around us grew closer and more alarming. Evidently attracted by the sounds of battle or the smell of blood, the denizens of the hills drew nearer and nearer in an evernarrowing circle. The weird howling of the awoos, mingled with the grisly laughter of the hahoes and the cries of other night-roving beasts, produced a most uncanny effect.

If we did not find shelter soon, our bodies would go to appease the flesh-hunger of one or another of these hunters.

Warning Loralie to keep out of sight in the bushes, I dashed over to the fire, seized a burning brand and hurled it into the cave. As nothing charged out after me, I peered in. By the flickering light of the burning stick I could see that the cave was small and apparently empty, except for a pile of dry fern fronds against the back wall.

Entering, I picked up the torch and investigated this. It proved to be a nest about four feet across, in the center of which was a round egg, covered with a membranous shell mottled green and yellow—the same color as the outer scales of the kroger.

Flurrying out of the cave once more, I softly called to my companion. "Carry the fuel into the cave at once, while I build our barricade."

While we both worked in frenzied haste, the sounds in the surrounding darkness grew ominously closer. The struggles of the marmelot and kroger had ceased altogether, and our fire was burning low.

Perspiring from every pore with my strenuous labor, I presently got the cave mouth closed except for a narrow hole on one side barely large enough to admit the body of a man.

Loralie had meanwhile carried all of the fuel into the cave and was waiting for me in its dark interior.

Seizing a flaming faggot from the remains of the fire, I squeezed through the narrow opening, then lifted into place the rock I had reserved for the purpose while the princess held the torch for me. Scarcely had I done this ere a half dozen lean gray forms bounded into the glow that was shed by the last few coals of our fire and began tearing at the two mighty carcasses which were locked in a death embrace beside it.

As I watched through the interstices between the rocks, I saw that these were awoos. The more cowardly hahoes soon joined them, and there ensued a fierce medley of growling, snapping and snarling as the beasts fought over their bloody feast.

Because there was no way of ventilating our cave, I disliked building a fire inside; but I felt constrained to do so when a huge hahoe came sniffing up to our rock barrier, then threw back its head and gave vent to the horrid cry which gives it its name. I piled a few faggots against the barricade and lighted them with the flaming brand I still held. It was well I did so, for the cry of the first brute quickly brought a half dozen others and they began sniffing and scratching at the loosely piled rocks.

The smoke nearly strangled us at first, and got in our eyes, making tears stream down our cheeks. But as it billowed out between the crevices in the barrier the besieging beasts sneezed and backed away.

When the moisture had burned out of the fuel it smoked less, and I found that by feeding the fire gradually I could cut its smoking down to a minimum which, though still disagreeable, was bearable.

Glancing across the fire at my companion, I was about to speak to her when I saw that, in spite of her fear, exhaustion had claimed her, and she slept. She lay on her side, her tousled head pillowed on one white arm, her seductive curves outlined in the flickering firelight against the smoky background of the cave's interior.

Despite the tremendous din outside the cave, I presently felt myself growing drowsy. Twice I caught myself wearily nodding, only being able to rouse with an effort at thought of what might happen if our watch fire should go out.

Taking a three-foot length of fern frond, I thrust one end into the fire and laid my hand over the other. At the rate these fronds burned I should catch ten minutes or more of sleep before the flames should reach my hand and awaken me.

I awakened with a start. Daylight was streaming through the crevices in our rock barrier. The fire had ceased to smolder, and the frond on which I had counted to awaken me had gone out more than a foot from my hand. Loralie was still sleeping quietly across from me.

Near the dead embers of our outdoor fire lay the bones of the marmelot and the kroger, picked clean. The vegetation was torn, trampled and spotted with blood, but of the flesheaters that had threatened us the night before I saw no other sign.

Only a short distance away I saw a large clump of water ferns, and toward this I made my way in quest of food and drink. I found these useful shrubs heavily laden with spore pods and, after a refreshing drink, pulled up a number of fronds to take back with me.

As I was walking back toward the cave I caught sight of a small animal browsing on the steep hillside above me. Silently putting down my water-filled fronds, I extracted bow and arrow from my quiver, took careful aim at the animal, and loosed a shaft. Struck just behind the shoulder and pierced clear through, it gave a piteous bleat, sank to its knees, then rolled over and came tumbling down the hillside to fall dead at my feet.

It was a wild frella, one of the hairless, sheeplike creatures which are such highly prized food animals on Venus. I had already tasted the flesh of the domestic variety in the Black Tower.

After returning to the cave mouth with the spoils of my brief excursion, I kindled a new fire on the dead embers of the old one outside, and soon the appetizing aroma of grilling frella steak filled the morning air.

Stepping into the semidarkness of the interior I saw that Loralie was already awake and intently watching the large nest in the rear. "I heard something move back there," she whispered, "and I'm afraid."

Club in hand, I advanced toward the nest. As I did so I heard a peculiar scratching sound which seemed to come from the center where the round egg lay. Yet I could detect no sign of any movement.

Reassured by my presence, the princess came up beside me and peered into the nest. "What can it be?"

Before I could reply, her question was answered from the nest itself. The egg split open and a tiny kroger—like the one slain by the marmelot in every respect except size—rolled out, got unsteadily to its feet, and blinked inquiringly up at us, cocking its head to one side.

I swung my club aloft, bent on quickly dispatching this miniature monstrosity, but the princess caught my arm. "Don't you dare hurt that poor little thing."

The kroger toddled toward her, balanced itself on the edge of the nest, and uttered a rasping, mournful croak.

"The darling!" exclaimed Loralie. "I believe it likes me. Isn't it cute?"

"Cute! It's hideous. I could choke it—if it had a throat"

"Brute! How could you do such a thing?"

"I'm brute enough to be thoroughly hungry," I answered, "and the royal butler is about to serve breakfast. Will you join me or stay here and play with this walking nightmare?"

She held out her hand to the kroger, which instantly opened its enormous mouth to full capacity, and gave vent to a series of high-pitched croaks. "Poor little orphan, it's hungry. I couldn't think of eating a morsel without feeding it. Help it to get down, won't you?"

I extended the flat of my club, intending to shove it beneath the creature's belly, or throat, whichever it might be, and lift it down to the floor. But it sidled away from the weapon—then hopped down by itself and toddled toward the princess. With a little scream of alarm she turned and darted out of the cave, the kroger waddling after her.

I squeezed through the opening as quickly as I could, getting out just in time to see her snatch one of the deliciously grilled frella steaks which I had prepared and toss it into the cavernous maw of the young reptile. It instantly clamped its jaws shut, and dropping the grayish film of its eyelids, settled down beside the princess with its chin between its feet to sleep.

"I told you the little thing was hungry," she said as we sat down to breakfast.

When we had eaten, Loralie insisted that I make her a bow, arrows and quiver. After I had cut a number of reeds into the correct length for arrows I set her to feathering the shafts with bits of fern leaf while I manufactured a number of crude sharp flint slivers for the heads.

After I had a sufficient quantity of these rough tips made, I showed her how to bind them to the shafts, while I scraped, dried, and rubbed with hot fat a section of frella hide for the quiver. While it was hanging by the fire I made a bow.

This work occupied several hours, during which time the kroger slept contentedly beside the princess. When everything was completed and we were ready to resume our journey, the hideous baby reptile promptly woke up and followed us.

As we did not care to run the risk of another attack by the slimy swamp dwellers we planned to follow the mountain range which gradually curved toward the southeast, thus avoiding the marsh and eventually coming out on the coast of the Ropok Ocean. Here we might meet the rescue party of Prince Gadrimel, or failing in this, could try to follow the coast northward to Adonijar.

After about five hours of travel, during which time the princess had been practicing with her new weapons and keeping me busy retrieving arrows, we decided to stop in a small clump of water ferns for food and rest. I had just unslung the haunch of frella meat which I carried and hung it on a fern frond so the young kroger couldn't get it, preparatory to building a fire, when I heard a terrific roar come from over the brow of the hill, followed by the shouting of men, the crashing of underbrush, and intermittent snarls and growls.

I hurried to the hilltop to investigate, the princess running after me and the kroger waddling behind her as fast as its short legs would carry it.

Taking cover behind the bushy fronds of a cycad, I peered down at the scene of strife below. A party of men, about fifty in number, was engaged in a battle with an enormous ramph. The huge, hairless, bear-like creature reared up on its hind feet from time to time, towering above the men around it like a giant among pygmies.

Half a dozen of the men already lay motionless on the ground, yet the others, swarming about the fierce beast, seemed absolutely fearless. They were armed with knives and long, straight-bladed, two-edged swords, and were naked except for their sword-belts, which appeared to be of metal links, and their gleaming, conical helmets or casques.

They were a white-skinned race—too white, I thought, as if they spent nearly all their time indoors. And they wore no beards—an unusual thing on Zarovia, where a beard, cut off square below the chin, was a mark of fashionable manhood.

As I watched, a man darted in to deliver a thrust with his sword. Before he could do so the ramph whipped out with a huge paw and stretched him, crushed and still, on the ground a full twenty feet away. Another man who succeeded in pricking the creature beneath the right shoulder met a like fate.

Instinctively I reached for bow and arrow, but remembered that at that range an arrow could not possibly do more than add to the fury of the beast. Then a scheme came to my mind which I instantly put into execution. Removing an ammunition clip marked Tork Projectiles, Deadly, from the belt I had taken from Taliboz, I extracted one of the needlelike missiles and with a bit of cord, bound it to the head of my arrow.

After replacing the clip in my belt, I took careful aim and released the shaft. It struck the ramph in the shoulder and the deadly virus acted almost instantly; in a few seconds it keeled over, to fight no more.

Apparently mystified at what had killed the great beast, the men clustered curiously about the fallen brute, examining it intently. One pulled the arrow from its shoulder and was instantly surrounded by a group of his comrades, all eager to see and handle it.

"Shall we make ourselves known to them?" I asked the princess, who was peering over my shoulder.

"As you will," she replied. "They seem to be soldiers of a civilized nation, but one I do not recognize. No doubt they will be glad to help us when they know who we are."

I stepped from behind the cycad and shouted the universal Zarovian word for peace—"Dua!"

The entire armed band whirled toward me, and I was horrified at the unhuman quality of their gaze—as if they were more, or less, than men.

CHAPTER X

THE LEADER of the hunters called out "Dua" and Princess Loralie stepped from her hiding place to my side. Together we walked toward them.

"I am Pangar," said their leader, according us the royal salute in deference to the scarlet we wore. He himself, although not clothed, had a purple band on his metallic helmet and touches of purple on his accouterments which marked him as a member of the nobility.

"I am Zinlo of Olba," I replied, acknowledging his salute, "and this is the Torrogina Loralie of Tyrhana."

"In the name of my royal master, Tandor of Doravia, I bid Your Highness welcome," he said. "Will you accompany me to the palace and permit my emperor the pleasure of greeting you in person?"

"We'll be delighted."

"Your indulgence for a moment, then, while I see if any of my men can be salvaged."

"Salvaged!" I was struck by the peculiarity of the term when applied to men. It brought home to me that there was something extremely odd about these people. The motions of many of them seemed to be quite stiff and awkward—mechanical, that was it—like the motions of marionettes.

Their armor—accouterments and weapons, too—were not made of ordinary metal, as I had first thought, but were constructed from a material which greatly resembled glass. The blades of the swords and daggers were quite transparent. The hilts resembled colored glass.

The helmets were also transparent, except for the colored band at the base of each denoting the status of the wearer. The chain belts and shoulder straps were of the same material, but lined with ramph leather, evidently to prevent their contact with the body.

Pangar bent over one of the fallen men. "Think you can make it?" he asked.

The stricken one spoke weakly. "Power unit is low. Was shorted for a time, but I have it back in place now. If someone can spare some power…"

"Who can spare power?" asked Pangar.

A man stepped up. "I can spare five xads."

"Good." From a hook on his belt, Pangar took two coiled tubes that resembled insulated wires with metal sockets at each end. He inserted an end of each wire in each ear of the fallen man and handed the other two ends to the man standing. The latter instantly inserted an end in each ear, meanwhile watching an indicator which was strapped to his wrist. Presently he jerked a tube from one ear, then the other. The fallen man arose, apparently restored to strength, and returned the wires to Pangar.

I noticed the next man. His entire breast had been torn away by the claws of the ramph. There was a set expression on his features, as of death or deep hypnotic sleep. But around the jagged wound was no sign of blood. The flesh, if it was flesh, was a peculiar grayish-red shade. And where the viscera would have been exposed in a normal human being, I saw a conglomeration of coils, tubes, wheels and wires, tangled and broken.

Pangar passed him by with but a single glance. "No use to try to save this one."

He rapidly examined the other fallen men. Two were picked up and slung over the shoulders of comrades. The rest were stripped of their weapons and helmets and left lying on the ground. A half dozen men, using their keen knives, had already skinned the ramph. It seemed that they wanted the hide only, not the flesh, for the great red carcass was left lying near the broken figures of the fallen men when we went.

Men or machines—which? I pondered the matter as Loralie and I walked beside the courteous and seemingly human Pangar, while the kroger waddled at our heels.

After a walk of about two hours we reached the summit of the mountain range and halted there for a few moments of rest while Pangar pointed with pride to the various features of the fertile valley of Doravia which was spread before us. It was oval in form, about twenty-five miles in length, tapering down to points at both ends where the inclosing mountain ranges ran together.

At the northwestern end of the valley a tremendous water fall, over a mile in height and fully a half mile in width, tumbled into a spray-veiled lake. From this flowed a river that wound through the center of the valley, to emerge at the southeast end. According to Pangar, it emptied into the Ropok.

At each side of the falls a conical, hive-shaped structure of immense size towered for some distance above the upper water level. These two enormous buildings were connected by an arched span that was fully a half mile above the lower water level. Their bases were hidden by the mists that arose from the bottom of the cataract.

The banks of the river, as it wound through the valley, were dotted at regular intervals by smaller twin towers of similar construction. The surfaces of all these buildings glistened with mirrorlike brightness.

In the very center of the valley, on an island of considerable size around which the river flowed in two nearly equally divided streams, was the largest structure of all. Cone-shaped like the others, but much larger than any of them, it reared its pointed, gleaming top to a height of fully two miles.

"The imperial palace of Tandor of Doravia," explained Pangar as he saw me looking at it. "A wonderful building. We will be there in a short time now."

"But it's fully five kants from here," I said. Then I noticed something which had previously escaped my observation. A thin cable stretching beside a long narrow platform a short distance below us extended out toward the tower, though it soon dwindled into invisibility. It was composed of the same peculiar glistening material.

"I have signaled for a car," said Pangar. "It will be here soon."

As I watched, a tiny gleaming speck became visible far out over the valley. Its apparent size grew larger with amazing rapidity, and in a few seconds I saw that it was a long, octagonal vehicle, pointed at each end, and constructed of the shimmering, transparent material.

It came to a stop beside the narrow landing platform without any perceptible jar or sound, and we all hurried down to meet it. When we reached the platform I found that round doors, hinged above, had been thrown open along the entire length of the vehicle.

Into one of these the princess and I were ushered by Pangar. The small kroger had kept close at our heels. We had no more than taken the comfortable springy seats when the doors clamped shut; the kroger was left alone on the platform, and we never saw it again—to my relief. The car then started smoothly out over the valley. In a moment it was speeding so rapidly that the landscape, though far below us, became a mere blur.

It seemed that only a few seconds elapsed before the car slowed down once more and we were entering an octagonal opening in the enormous central tower I had previously noticed. Before we entered I had a brief view of hundreds of other similar openings in the tower from which slender, transparent cables radiated in all directions.

The door snapped open, and as we stepped out on the landing floor Pangar said, "I will conduct you immediately to our Torrogo, as he wishes to greet you in person."

"How do you know that?" I asked, puzzled.

"His majesty instantly communicates his wishes by thought-transference to any of his subjects."

"Then you communicate with each other here by telepathy?"

"Not with each other," he replied, "except through our Torrogo or a member of the Committee of Twelve—kings who are thought—censors for the emperor. If I wish to communicate with a distant comrade, I send my thought to the member of the committee whose duty it is to watch over my mind. He receives the message and, if he approves, transfers it to my comrade or to the Torrogo."

As he talked, Pangar led us through a maze of hallways, the decorated floors, walls and ceilings of which were all of the same glasslike substance, but opalescent, so that, with light coming from all directions, we moved without casting shadows. It gave me a queer sense of unreality—as if I were moving in a dream from which I should presently awaken.

But when we were suddenly ushered into a huge and magnificent throne room, the many octagonal doors of which were guarded by warriors with drawn swords, the ceiling of which was fully a mile above our heads reaching to the very peak of the hive-shaped building, and my eyes beheld for the first time the grandeur of the Imperial Court of Doravia, I felt positive that only in a dream could such splendor have existence. I pinched myself repeatedly to make sure that I was awake.

My illusion of unreality, however, was instantly dispelled as we were led before the throne. Seated on its scarlet cushions was a powerful and commanding figure of a man. His high forehead and heavy eyebrows, joined at the center, reminded me of Dr. Morgan, but there the resemblance ceased.

The nose was Grecian rather than Roman in type, and the clean-cut features had the pale beauty of chiseled marble. It was a face which showed remarkable intellectual power and, at the same time, an utter lack of all sentiment or human sympathy. Although every other man belonging to this strange race was beardless, the ruling monarch wore, at the end of his chin, a narrow, sickle-shaped beard which curved outward and upward, ending in a sharp point.

Flanking each side of the throne was a row of six lesser thrones, on each of which sat a scarlet-decked individual whose insignia proclaimed the rank of rogo, or king. These rogos, I judged, must comprise the Committee of Twelve referred to by Pangar. On still lower thrones sat the purple-decked nobles of the land, while lining the walls on either side stood the blue-decked plebeians. Beyond these, on the outskirts of the throne, as it were, were massed a few of the gray-decked slaves.

Tandor stood up as we were brought before his throne—a deference due visiting royalty—and smiled, his black eyes boring into mine as we exchanged salutations. Although his smile was friendly, there was something about the look of his eyes which was not quite human. They appeared snakelike, with a sinister, hypnotic quality that was far from reassuring.

"You find me in the midst of my multifarious court duties," said Tandor, still smiling, "but I shall terminate them as soon as possible. Meanwhile, permit me to offer you rest and refreshment. Pangar will show you to the quarters provided for your entertainment. I shall join you presently."

When we were outside the throne room, Pangar issued instructions to a page, who hurried away, to meet us again down the corridor with a girl who wore the scarlet insignia of royalty, followed by the others whose purple ornaments proclaimed them daughters of the nobility. The six girls were shapely and quite pretty, but their mistress was beautiful. With a superb figure, glossy black hair and big black eyes, half veiled with long dark lashes, she rivaled the beauty of Loralie herself.

Yet, on comparing the two I was struck by a marked contrast between them. While the Princess of Tyrhana was the spiritual type of beauty, her every lineament suggesting purity and strength of character, this royal girl of Doravia appeared voluptuous, sensuous and apparently with great strength of purpose—like an exalted odalisque, or perhaps a fallen houri.

According us the royal salute, to which we responded in kind, she spoke softly with a low musical voice that, while it betokened culture and refinement, yet had about it a certain husky undertone which was puzzling. Her black eyes, too, I thought had something of that reptilian quality which had shone forth from the orbs of Tandor.

"I am Xunia of Doravia," she said. "It is the wish of my brother, Torrogo Tandor, that Loralie of Tyrhana be entertained in my apartments until such time as suitable quarters can be prepared for her."

She held out her hand to Loralie, who took it without hesitation, and the two moved off down a transverse corridor followed by the six handmaidens. Pangar then conducted me to a luxurious suite, whose glasslike furniture was upholstered with chlorophyl green ramph hide tanned to a softness that was almost velvety.

After a bath and a shave I felt greatly refreshed.

"His majesty is now ready to receive you in his private dining room," Pangar then told me.

A short walk down the corridor brought me to a doorway, octagonal in form, before which two guards stood, sword in hand. At a sign from Pangar they drew back two scarlet curtains, and I entered the room. As the curtains dropped into place behind me I beheld my royal host seated at an octagonal-topped table of translucent scarlet material in a high-backed golden chair upholstered with ramph hide, which was also stained a brilliant scarlet. He arose as I entered and tendered me the royal salute, which I returned. Then I took a chair at his right which an unobtrusive servant placed for me.

"I trust that you will pardon the slimness and coarseness of the fare which I am about to place before you," said Tandor after I had taken my seat, "but, with the exception of the slaves, we of Doravia do not eat or drink as you do in the outer world."

A slave set a crystal bowl before each of us. Mine was filled with steaming kova, but that which was placed before the Torrogo contained a heavier liquid which seemed to fume rather than to steam. It had an acrid smell which reminded me of the odor of a corrosive acid.

"May your years be as many as the stars," pledged Tandor as he raised his bowl to his lips.

"And may yours be as numerous as the rain drops that fall on all Zarovia," I replied, tossing off a draught of kova.

"Your arrival, O Prince," said Tandor, setting down his bowl, "was timed most opportunely, as you will realize from what I am about to relate to you. For the past two thousand years I have been planning a great experiment—one which if successful will revolutionize the lives both of my kind and yours."

"That is indeed interesting," I replied as a platter of chopped mushrooms and grilled ramph steak was set before me. "But—two thousand years?"

A disk-shaped vessel, black in color, was set before Tandor. Coiled about the handles on each side of the vessel were two insulated wires with electrodes on the ends. Uncoiling them, he inserted an electrode in each ear.

"I was born five thousand years ago in your country of Olba," he said, "the second son of the Torrogo. I did not covet the throne, preferring scientific research in chemistry, physics and psychology. When I had learned everything the greatest scientists of my time could teach me about these subjects, I began to combine my knowledge of the three with a view to realizing a dream of mine which is perhaps the universal dream of mankind—immortality.

"As I look back on my earlier efforts I realize how exceedingly crude they were, but alter countless experiments and untiring efforts, they worked. No doubt you have noticed the great difference between yourself and my people—between my sister Xunia and Princess Loralie."

"I saw the chest of one of your men, which had been torn open by a ramph," I replied, "and he was evidently no ordinary human being. I also heard talk of depleted power units, and I have noticed that you drink a beverage which smells and looks like fuming acid and that your food is evidently transmitted to you in the form of fluid power."

"In other words," said Tandor, "you have deduced that we are a race of automatons—machine men. You are right, but I do not believe that there exists anywhere else on any world a race of man—created beings with souls. Nearly five thousand years have elapsed since I cast off forever the frail shell with which nature endowed me to take up my existence in a more enduring body of my own creation.

"You are of course familiar with the phenomena of personality exchange and telekinesis. You are aware that two men can permanently or temporarily exchange their physical bodies.

"My problem, then, was to construct a duplicate material body into which my personality could enter, and which would respond to the direction of my will by amplifying the power of telekinesis. The first body which I succeeded in so entering collapsed because of faulty construction, and I barely got back to my own body in time to save it from dissolution and myself from being projected into the great unknown. But I made many others, and when they were at last perfected, I published my discovery in the Empire of Olba.

"My father had been received into the mercy of Thorth in the meantime, and my brother had succeeded him to the throne. I called on him to join me in immortality, and offered to make every person in the empire an immortal. To my great surprise and disappointment, my offer not only met with rebuff, but a systematized persecution against me and my followers was begun by the more religious of the Thorthans.

"Influenced by the religious leaders, my brother presently ordered the banishment of myself and my followers, who remained faithful to me. With less than a thousand of these I came to these shores and subsequent explorations revealed this valley."

I murmured my astonishment at all this.

"The only member of my family to accompany me," he went on, "was my sister, Xunia, who had been in sympathy with my plans from the first. As rapidly as I could, I prepared duplicate bodies for my followers, it being necessary to give each body the outward semblance of the body and brain which was to be quitted, else the personality would not enter it.

"I have always kept many bodies in reserve for myself and for my sister, so we were prepared for almost any emergency. In case the body I occupied broke down I could instantly enter another. If that one broke down or was destroyed, I could enter still another, and so on.

"The slaves were the only class which was never completely immortalized. Today, immortalization of a slave is a reward for faithful service. You may readily see, therefore, why the food and drink for which I am forced to apologize are of the cruder sort. I am compelled, for the moment, to offer you but the fare of slaves."

"It is excellent," I replied, "and quite good enough for any king's son."

"I will find the means to improve it, however, as I expect you to remain here permanently. I have planned a great honor for you."

"Indeed?"

"I will explain. As you probably have surmised, there has been no such thing as propagation of the race among my immortals. This did not bother me in a material way. When I lost a follower—which was rarely, as every one has at least one extra body and most of them several—I could immediately replace him from the ranks of my slaves. But there was no love; and after about three thousand years had passed, the defect bothered me emotionally.

"I knew that the problem which confronted me was considerably more difficult than any on which I had previously worked, but undaunted, I plunged into my studies. Two thousand years of anatomical, histological, embryological, biological, biochemical and psychological research have brought their reward, so that, although today I differ from you physically as much as ever, I have built into my newest bodies and into those of my sister the sexual characteristics of ordinary human beings.

"Pangar was sent forth today with the object of bringing me two human beings suitable for marriage with royalty. His journey ended almost as soon as it began when he found you and the princess. I therefore offer you the hand of my beloved sister in marriage, and will likewise offer the half of my throne to the Princess Loralie."

"But if we should decline the honor?"

"It is unthinkable. Even if you were to decline, either of you, I have means at hand which, I am sure, will cause you to reconsider gladly."

Removing the electrodes from his ears and draining his bowl, he arose and summoned two pages. To the first, he said, "Instruct the Princess Loralie to prepare for my coming." As the messenger sped away he said to the other, "You will conduct His Highness Torrogi Zinlo of Olba to the apartments of Her Highness Xunia, Torrogina of Doravia."

As the little page conducted me to the apartments of Princess Xunia I turned over in my mind Tandor's strange story and its revolting sequel. I was going to the apartments of a girl who had been dead five thousand years, but whose soul was bound in a machine. Beautifully and cleverly constructed as it was, it was yet a mere mechanical contrivance—a thing of wheels and cogs, levers and shafts, a thing that fed on electrical energy and drank fuming acid.

And I was expected—commanded with a none-too-veiled threat—to make love to this travesty on life.

But Loralie! Somehow I must contrive to live in order to save her.

The page stopped before an ornate doorway, two guards saluted and opened massive doors. Then a pair of scarlet curtains were drawn back, revealing a luxurious boudoir. "His Highness, Zinlo of Olba," announced the page as I entered the room.

The curtains fell in place behind me. I heard the guards close the heavy doors.

As I looked at the beauteous dead—alive creature that reclined on a luxuriously cushioned divan in a scarlet and gold decked recess, a feeling of revulsion swept over me; yet, paradoxically enough, this was combined with admiration. I was revolted at thought of the nearness of this living dead thing, but could not but admire the consummate art that had created so glorious an imitation of the human form.

I realized that if I would live to be of assistance to Loralie I had a part to play.

Xunia smiled languidly, seductively, as I stood before the raised divan just outside the niche it occupied. With feline grace she extended a slender, dimpled hand. Shuddering inwardly, I took it, expecting to feel the cold clamminess of death. But it was as warm as my own and as natural—from its white back in which a delicate tracery of blue veins showed, to the pink-tipped, tapering fingers. I raised it to my lips and released it, but she clung to my fingers for a moment, pulling me to a seat on a low ottoman just in front of her.

"Long have I awaited your coming, prince of my heart," she said. "Be not afraid to come near to me, for it is my desire and my command."

"To be prince of your heart were indeed an honor," I replied, "yet you name me this, having only seen me today."

"The moment I saw you I knew it was so. Fear not, beloved, that there have been others before you. I am, and have ever been, virgin in mind as in body. Once I thought I loved, yes, but it was long ago, and then I was but a child."

"You make me very jealous, nevertheless," I said, remembering the part I had to play.

"I did not really love him, I swear it, dearest." She ran her fingers through my hair in a gentle caress so natural, so womanly, that I found it well-nigh impossible to believe her other than a real princess of flesh and blood. Then, before I realized what she was about, she twined her arms about my neck and kissed me full upon my lips.

The kiss did not taste of acid, as I had imagined it would, but was like that of a normal, healthy girl, though it aroused in me a feeling of revulsion which I was at some pains to conceal.

"I go now, beloved, to prepare for your marriage," she said. "Await me here."

As I stood up, she took my hand and arose gracefully. The time for action had arrived. Yet, as I looked down at the slender, beautiful figure, the long-lashed eyes gazing trustfully up into mine, I hesitated to carry out the plan which I had been contemplating as I sat there on the ottoman before her—a plan with which I hoped to accomplish a double purpose—to rid myself of this machine-monster and to get her brother away from Loralie, for she would probably summon him telepathically, if in no other way.

I was trying to think of her as a dead thing in a machine, yet it seemed impossible that she was other than human, so natural was she, and so beautiful. But the thought of Loralie and the danger she was in steeled me to the task.

Seizing Xunia by her long black hair, I whipped out my stone knife and slashed the artificial muscles of the slim white throat. She gave one startled scream, which ended at the second slash of my knife, and went limp as I jerked the head backward, cracking the metallic structure which took the place of cervical vertebrae. Instead of blood, there spurted from the severed neck a tiny stream of clear fuming liquid, a few drops of which fell on my hand, burning it like molten metal.

Dropping the sagging body, I turned and was about to part the curtains which led out into the hall to see if the coast was clear, when I heard a stealthy sound behind me. Swiftly turning, I saw Xunia, apparently unharmed. In her right hand was a long, straight-bladed sword drawn back for a thrust. Behind her lay the body I had just destroyed.

I leaped back just in time to avoid her vicious lunge. Then, jerking my spiked club from my belt, I dealt her a blow which crushed her skull like an egg-shell. But scarcely had this body sunk to the floor ere a panel opened in the wall behind it and a third, armed like the second, stepped out to attack me.

"Fool," mouthed the advancing figure. "Think you that you can slay one of the immortals?"

This time she swung the sword with both hands with the evident intention of decapitating me, but I struck the weapon from her hands. Then I crushed the skull of this third body.

I leaped through the opened panel, where four more bodies, identical with the other three, lay on scarlet couches. The one nearest me was just sitting up, when I smashed the skull with my club. I quickly disposed of the next two in the same manner before they showed any signs of life, but the last rolled from the couch and, dodging beneath my arm, rushed out into the room from which I had just come.

"Brother!" she screamed. "Brother—he would destroy me!"

As I stopped the screeching of this last figure with a blow of my club, the entire wall toward which I was facing rolled up like a curtain. On the other side of it was a room like the one in which I stood, and in that room were Loralie and Tandor.

The long hair of my princess was disheveled and her eyes were flashing with anger as she tried to pull away from the monarch, who gripped her slender wrists.

Taking in the situation at a glance, Tandor suddenly released Loralie, who fell to the floor. Then he whipped out his sword and advanced on me.

Forgetting that I held only a wooden club, I bounded forward to meet him. A sneer crossed his cold, statuesque features, as with a deft slash he cut my club in two near the handle.

"Die, upstart," he snarled, raising his weapon for the blow that was to end my existence.

I barely succeeded in avoiding death by leaping back, then caught up one of the swords which Xunia had dropped.

But as I attacked he came on guard and countered with a skill which spoke of expert training and thousands of years of practice.

"In your ignorant folly," he said, cutting, thrusting and parrying with a deft precision which amazed me, "you believe you have sent my sister into the unknown, and that with your skill as a swordsman you can do likewise for me. Know, then, witless one, who would try conclusions with the immortals, that in one of the great twin towers which flank the falls under constant guard, my sister has twelve more bodies in reserve.

"Should you succeed in destroying the six bodies I have here in the palace—which you will not be able to do—I also have twelve more under guard in the opposite tower."

"I care not if you have a hundred, you monster," I retorted. "Bring them one by one within reach of my blade and I'll eventually send you down the unmarked trail you should have taken five thousand years ago."

"You are, I perceive, a braggart as well as a dullard," said Tandor. "You realize, of course, that I can call the guard and have you slain at any moment I choose to do so. Yet to make things more interesting I'll make a wager with you. If you succeed in besting me and destroying the six bodies I have here in the palace, I'll promise not to alarm the guard until I return from the tower in one of my reserve bodies. If I force you to surrender, you are to become my slave for life, body and soul, to do with as I see fit. Is it agreed?"

"It is a wager," I replied between clenched teeth as I desperately sought for an opening in this, the most marvelous guard I had ever encountered.

Tandor laughed as I tried, one after another, the many tricks I had learned in my fencing on three planets.

"You are a good swordsman, youth, better than any mortal I have ever encountered; yet I, with five thousand years of training, am merely playing with you. See, I can touch you at will."

And with that, he pinked my left shoulder.

The moment he extended his weapon he left the opening for which I had been waiting. Not knowing on what part of his anatomy I could use my point effectively, I dealt him a swift neck cut with its keen edge.

The head flew from his shoulders and bounded to the floor, but the body did not fall. Instead, it stooped, and catching up the head, tucked it under its left arm and resumed the contest. Here, indeed, was a super-mind, which could control, at the same time, severed head and body.

"A pretty counter," mocked the head, while our blades clashed as vigorously as before, "but perhaps not as effective as you expected. I will tire you out presently. Then will I slice you down, inch by inch, until you will be glad to yield."

"Not with this body," I replied as I got inside his guard for a swift downward cut on his forearm. Cleanly severed, it fell to the floor, the hand still gripping the sword. An instant later the body dropped the head and fell. Then a panel slid up behind it, and Tandor, another sword in hand, emerged, smiling sardonically. "You are more clever than I thought, princeling, but that trick will not work again."

"It is not the only one I know," I replied and, catching his blade on mine, disarmed him, much to his consternation. This time I not only split his head from crown to chin, but slashed off his right arm. Then I rushed through the panel opening in time to catch a third newly animated body just arising from its scarlet couch. I served it in like manner, but the fourth sprang up before I could strike and came on guard with appalling swiftness. Before Tandor could attack in this body I struck two swift blows, splitting the heads of the two recumbent forms.

I stepped to one side barely in time to avoid a powerful downward cut that would have divided my own head had it landed, and before he could recover I severed the sword arm of my attacker and split his head.

Rushing back into the room where I had left Loralie, I found her plucking a sword and dagger from one of Tandor's bodies.

"We must get out of here at once," I said. "In a few moments Tandor will be back here in one of his swift vehicles. Then, the terms of the wager fulfilled, he can quickly have us captured."

"But where can we go? How can we possibly escape?"

"I do not know, but we most certainly can't get away by remaining here. Come."

CHAPTER XI

CAUTIOUSLY PARTING the scarlet drapes which hid the doorway, I saw that the heavy doors had been bolted. Tandor had evidently intended that he should not be disturbed.

I expected that there would be guards in the corridor, and therefore decided that a bold front would serve our purpose the best. I appropriated one of Tandor's magnificent belts with ornate sword and dagger, and outfitted Loralie likewise with one of Xunia's belts which contained lighter weapons. Then we walked quietly to the doors, which I unbolted and swung back. The guards saluted stiffly and closed them after us as we passed out.

"It is the command of his majesty," I said, "that he be not disturbed by messengers or others."

"To hear is to obey," replied both guards in unison as we strolled away down the corridor.

I only knew my way to one part of the building—the landing floor. After threading so many hallways, passageways and ramps that I had begun to think I had lost my way, we came out on the central landing platform, from which radiated the cables that carried the swift-moving octagonal cars to the various power houses of Doravia.

Glancing in the direction of the twin towers, I saw a car swiftly approaching from each and surmised that Xunia and Tandor were already on the way to the palace.

"Quick!" I said to Loralie. "We have not a moment to lose!"

Hurrying her to the side of a car which hung on a cable that pointed toward the south, I helped her aboard—then spoke to the pilot. "It is the desire of his majesty the Torrogo that we inspect some of the buildings of Doravia. You will first take us to the power plant at the southernmost end of the valley."

He saluted respectfully, then moved a control lever. The doors closed and we glided smoothly away from the platform. In a moment we were speeding swiftly southward at a dizzy height above the valley.

One by one we sped past the towers which dotted the river bank, so swiftly that each washed for but an instant in our range of vision. Yet it seemed to me that our pace was exasperatingly slow, for I knew that Tandor would surely reach the central tower before we arrived at our destination; if he made inquiry at the landing platform he would flash a message to the commander of the southern tower, and we would face arrest as soon as we arrived.

I accordingly loosened my blade in its scabbard and spoke softly to Loralie. "We must be ready to make a dash for it as soon as the doors open. Keep behind me, and I'll try to cut a way through."

As we drew up to the landing platform I saw a score of guards lined up to meet us. In front of them stood a captain with drawn sword.

The doors opened and we stepped out.

"By order of His Majesty…" began the officer.

I did not wait for him to finish but whipped out my sword and beheaded him before he could say more. Then I sprang forward and cut my way through the line of surprised guardsmen with Loralie close behind me. She drew her own weapon, and used it with more skill than I had believed possible in a woman.

As we dashed off down a corridor we met two more guards, but they were crude swordsmen and detained us but for a moment. On coming to a transverse corridor, we turned, hoping thus to elude our pursuers; but a moment later they rounded the turn, and at the same time I saw a large party of men closing in on us from the opposite direction.

"We're trapped," I said, "and this is a poor place to make a stand. We'll turn in at the next doorway we come to."

There were doors on both sides of the corridor at intervals of about fifty feet, and I accordingly stopped at the next and wrenched it open. Without looking to see what was within, I pushed my companion into the opening. Hearing a scream and a thud, I leaped in after her, but scarcely had I slammed the door ere my feet slipped from under me, and, half lying, half sitting, I found myself sliding down a steep spiral incline in total darkness at a terrific rate of speed.

For several minutes I continued my downward course uninterrupted. Then the incline grew less steep and I glided over a series of humps which retarded my progress. A moment later I shot out into the air and daylight, my feet struck a cushioned wall, and I fell on a thickly padded floor.

Springing to my feet, I saw Loralie standing with drawn sword, facing a huge guard. A short distance behind him wavelets from the river lapped the edge of the floor on which a half-dozen narrow, pointed boats made from the transparent metal were moored.

As I dashed forward, the guard struck her sword from her hand and attempted to seize the princess, but ere he could do so I sprang between them and our blades met. Aside from Tandor himself, he was the cleverest swordsman I had encountered in Doravia.

Back and forth we fought on that moist, slippery floor, until I succeeded in forcing him to the water's edge. Binding his blade with my own, I pushed it upward, and leaping in close, struck him in the breast with my left fist. He toppled for a moment on the brink—then fell into the river behind and sank out of sight.

At this instant I heard the clank of arms in the chute behind us, followed by the thud of a body against the padded walls, then another and another.

Quickly flinging Loralie into one of the boats, I slid it to the water's edge, leaped in and shoved off. Four spadelike paddles lay in the bottom, and seizing one of these I managed to get several boat lengths from the shore before our pursuers reached the water's edge.

The first boatload was not long in putting off after us, and with four paddles working it gained on us rapidly. Behind it, another and another left the shore until five in all pursued us.

Seeing that it would be only a few moments before we were overhauled, I strung my bow and shot an arrow at the foremost paddler. Although it pierced his breast it did not seem to discommode him in any way. He paddled forward as briskly as ever, pausing only to snap off the shaft and fling it into the water. I tried a second shot, this time aiming for his head, but the arrow glanced harmlessly off his glittering, transparent helmet.

Loralie, following my example, also strung her bow and tried a shot at the second paddler. It struck him in the arm, but he broke off the shaft and continued his paddling as if nothing had struck him.

"Save your arrows," I said as a plan suddenly occurred to me. Quickly unwinding a length of the cord I still had with me, I looped part of it and cut it in short pieces. Then I took from the ammunition belt of Talibot a clip marked "Tork Projectiles—Explosive." Extracting one, I bound it to the head of an arrow and discharged it at the first paddler. He grinned derisively as he saw me raise my bow, but his grin disappeared, together with most of the upper part of his mechanical anatomy when the missile exploded.

Passing several projectiles and bits of string to Loralie, I quickly prepared another arrow and blew a second pursuer out of existence. By this time the first boat was less than thirty feet from us, and I knew I would not have time to prepare a third arrow, so I drew my sword and made ready for the attack of the two guardsmen who remained in this boat. But before they came alongside there was only one, as Loralie, having prepared one arrow, proceeded to blow the other to bits.

The last remaining guardsman leaped to his feet as the slender prow of his boat struck the rear of ours. Dropping my sword in the bottom of our boat, I quickly tipped his boat to one side. The fellow tried to maintain his balance by throwing his weight in the opposite direction but I had anticipated this, and as he did so I reversed the tilt of his boat, precipitating him into the water where he sank out of sight.

So occupied had I been with our pursuers that I had not noticed whither the swift current was carrying us. My first intimation of danger from this source was a bump and a grinding noise as our keel struck and then slid over a submerged rock, nearly capsizing us. I seized a paddle and swung our craft parallel with the current just as we were precipitated into a seething, whirling rapids, from the foaming surface of which projected numerous jagged rocks.

I bent all my efforts to the task of avoiding the dangerous rocks which loomed ahead as we shot forward with alarming speed, now on the crest of a huge wave, now in a hollow so deep we could not see out of it. As we advanced the river became narrower, the rapids steeper, and the rocks more menacing. It appeared that the River of Life—for such Pangar had named it to me—might become, for us, the River of Death.

Try as I would, I could not keep our craft from repeatedly colliding with the rough boulders that now beset our path. The strength of its transparent metal sides astonished me.

We were nearly through the rapids, and I was just breathing a sigh of relief, when the unexpected happened. Our prow struck a hidden point of rock, the boat swung broadside, and we turned over.

I heard a scream from Loralie as I plunged into the water, head first. The metal paddle to which I had unconsciously clung as I fell quickly carried me to the jagged bottom. I let go and swam as rapidly as I could to the surface. Shaking the water from my eyes I looked around. The swift current had already taken me beyond the foot of the rapids into deeper water. I could see no sign of the princess, though I craned my neck in every direction.

Our overturned boat had drifted past me, and three more boats were swiftly descending the rapids, bottom up, but behind them came two more, in each of which sat four Doravian guardsmen.

Filling my lungs, I dived for the spot where I thought Loralie might be, and swam under water for some distance.

Upon again coming to the surface, I saw her swimming for the shore about a hundred feet ahead of me. Our drifting boat had hidden her from my view.

I saw the first boatload of Doravians pass the bottom of the rapids unscathed as I struck out after the princess. But as soon as they reached calmer water they plied their paddles with such dexterity that I knew they would overtake me long before I could reach the shore.

Although I was greatly hampered by the weight of my weapons, I hesitated to part with them, since I could not possibly get to land ahead of that boat, even if I were stripped.

Presently the boat came within fifteen feet of me. The foremost guardsman laid down his paddle and drew his sword. Raising the weapon above his head, he leaned out over the bow to dispatch me. At this instant I dived, and describing a loop under water, came up just under the stern of the boat. Seizing it in both hands, I capsized the craft, plunging my four assailants into the water. None of them reappeared. The metal men apparently could not swim.

By this time the last boat had negotiated the rapids and was paddling swiftly toward me. Again I struck out for land, this time with some hope of making it. Loralie, who had just reached the shore, called out to me, "Hurry. A silticum is coming this way."

I looked back, and my first view of a silticum was none too reassuring. It was an enormous reptile with a green lizardlike body, serpentine neck, and a head of immense proportions.

I struck out desperately for the shore, and the paddlers increased their efforts. The noise they made attracted the attention of the reptile. Suddenly swerving, it made for the boat.

As I was quite near the shore I lowered a foot, struck bottom, and waded out just as I stepped on the sloping beach, an exclamation from the princess made me turn.

With serpentine neck arched and mighty jaws distended, the huge saurian lunged downward, straight for the center of the boat. One of the occupants rammed his sword in that cavernous maw, and two others slashed at the scaly neck, but with no apparent effect on the reptile. It seized the boat in its immense jaws and lifting it high out of the water, shook it as a terrier shakes a rat. Hurtling through the air to the right and left, the bodies of the four Doravians fell into the river and disappeared.

"Come," said Loralie, tugging at me arm. "That creature is as swift on land as in the water. Let us get out of its sight before it takes a notion to follow us."

"With pleasure," I responded, and together we hurried up the bank and plunged into the fern forest.

For some time we ran forward, side by side, sinking ankle-deep in the soft moss that carpeted the forest floor.

"I'm thirsty," said Loralie, "and hungry. Aren't you?"

"Ravenous. Nothing will satisfy me but a good big steak. Spore pods are all right for appetizers, but to satisfy hunger there is nothing like meat."

"I've lost my bow and arrows," she said, ruefully, "along with that clip of explosive projectiles you gave me. I dropped everything when the boat tipped over."

"Never mind. I still have my bow, plenty of arrows, and another clip of explosive projectiles. It's a man's place to bring in the game, anyway, while the woman looks after the home."

"The home? What do you mean?"

"Why—er—that is, I was just drawing a comparison between ourselves and primitive people. The man went hunting, you know, while his mate looked after the cave, or tree, or whatever they lived in."

"His mate? I fail to see the comparison."

"Well, you know we're leading a rather primitive existence just now, and…

"Prince Zinlo," she said, suddenly stopping and facing me, "will you cease talking generalities and tell me just what you mean?"

"Yes," I cried vehemently. "I'll tell you what I mean. I hadn't intended to, but it seems my words betray my thoughts. I love you, Loralie. I want you for my mate—my princess. But as you so plainly dislike me I shall probably go on desiring you until the destroyer of all desires puts an end to my existence."

"I was beginning to wonder," she said softly, "if I would ever get you to say it."

Before I realized the purport of her words her arms were around my neck—her warm red lips upturned, inviting. I crushed her to me, and found her a new Loralie—tender, yielding, passionate.

"I've loved you since the very hour we met," she said, "when you tossed my presuming cousin into the shrubbery."

Her hand caressed my cheek, roving softly over my rugged face. But as I bent to claim the sweetness of her lips, I heard a twig crack behind me, and I whirled about, hand on hilt.

To my amazement I beheld Prince Gadrimel, standing only a short distance from us. "A thousand pardons for this intrusion," he lisped. "By the beard of Thorth, I could not find the heart to disturb so pretty a love scene, were it not that darkness approaches and the camp is a considerable journey from here."

Too astonished to reply, I could only stare at him as he stood with a mocking smile on his effeminate features, toying with a jeweled pendant on his breast and ogling Loralie.

"No doubt you are glad to see me, fair cousin," he continued in his mincing patoa, grinning at the princess, "so glad that the joy of my coming overwhelms you—renders you speechless. Come, haven't you at least a little cousinly kiss for your deliverer who has come so far to rescue you? You appear to lavish your caresses quite generously outside the family."

My blood boiled at his studied insolence, his air of proprietorship, yet I strove to control my feelings as I answered him. "The kisses of the Princess Loralie are her own to bestow. You will do well to remember that, Prince Gadrimel."

"And you, Prince Zinlo, will do well to speak only when spoken to." Gadrimel held out a hand to Loralie. "Come, cousin, let us get to camp before darkness falls. By tomorrow we will be aboard my flagship and well on our way to my father's palace."

The princess drew closer to me and looked up into my face as she answered, "Prince Zinlo is my fiance. I'll go where he goes."

"This nonsense has gone far enough," said Gadrimel, sharply. "Ho, warriors!"

Scarcely had he uttered his call ere there closed in on us from the surrounding fern brakes a full hundred armed men of Adonijar.

"Seize and bind this interloper," he commanded, pointing to me.

When this had been done, Gadrimel stationed a stalwart soldier at my side. "Remain here with the prisoner, until we have passed out of earshot. Then…" He stepped close to the soldier and whispered something to him. "For which," he concluded, as he stepped back, "you may have his weapons, accouterments and anything else of value he may have with him."

Loralie attempted to come to me as I stood there, bound hand and foot, but two soldiers prevented her.

"What are you going to do to him?" she cried.

"Now, now. Calm yourself, sweet cousin," said Gadrimel. "I am but sending him on a journey. I must insist that you hurry to camp with me at once, or darkness will overtake us on the way; the night-roving beasts will not be pleasant to meet in this forest."

In spite of her struggles he dragged her away. Behind them moved the entire company of warriors with the single exception of the one who had been instructed to remain with me. He stood immobile, listening until the sound of voices and the clank of weapons had died away in the distance. Then he turned to me.

"I have been commanded to kill you, Highness," he said, simply. "Never before have I slain a bound and helpless man, but I am a soldier of Adonijar and may not disobey the command of my prince. However, I was not instructed as to how I should kill you, and I bear you no malice. By what weapon do you choose to die?"

"The sword," I replied, "has ever been my favorite weapon. If I must die now, let it be by the sword."

"The sword?" he asked in puzzlement.

"That long straight-bladed weapon in the sheath at my feet," I answered. "Plunge it into my heart and get it over quickly."

Slowly he bent over and withdrew the sword from its sheath. He examined it curiously, testing the sharpness of its point with his palm and the keenness of its edge with his thumb.

"By the blood of Thorth!" he exclaimed. "This is a beautiful weapon. And it will be mine as soon as I have slain you. Make ready, now, to die."

CHAPTER XII

As I STOOD there in the fern forest bound hand and foot and helplessly awaiting the death blow at the hands of Prince Gadrimel's henchman, I was suddenly knocked flat by the drop of a huge, furry body from the limbs of the tree above me. Half dazed, I sat up just in time to see a female cave-ape crush the head of my would-be slayer with her sawedged club.

She turned, and as she did so, I recognized her features.

"Chixa!" I exclaimed.

"Long have the cave-apes sought their Rogo," she said, "and great will be their rejoicing when he returns."

With her flint knife she quickly cut my bonds, and I stood erect once more, stamping my feet and chafing my wrists to restore circulation, scarcely able, as yet, to understand that I was really alive.

"Do you cave-apes still consider me their king?"

"According to the custom you would lose your kingdom if you remained away for more than one endir. But you have been gone only a few days. As there is much judging to be done, we have been searching for you."

"Where are the other searchers?" I asked.

"Many of them are within call."

"Then call them, and let them call as many others as they can."

With marvelous agility for a creature of such great size, she scampered up to the leaf crown of a tall tree-fern. Then, cupping her paws, she gave utterance to a queer, trilling cry. It was answered, not once, but many times, from various points far and near.

Then she descended the tree and dropped into the glade beside me.

Presently there came swinging through the branches a great, yellow-tusked male who, as soon as he saw me, roared, "Hail, Zinlo!" and dropped to the ground near me. Another emerged from the fern brakes, repeating the salute of the first, and it was not long before I was surrounded by more than two score males and about half as many females.

As these shaggy man-beasts sat grouped around me, respectfully waiting for me to speak, their demeanor showed that they recognized me as their king without question.

"My subjects," I said, "I have work for you in which there is much danger and much fighting."

"Will there be food-men?"

"There will be many food-men."

"Good!" This answer was unanimous.

"We will start as soon as I have issued full instructions."

But the great, yellow-tusked male who had first responded to the summons of Chixa protested, "There is judging to be done. Will you not first do the judging, so we may go into the fight with our differences settled?"

"Who are you," I asked, "to question the edicts of your Rogo?"

"I am Griff, mighty warrior, mighty hunter," he replied, puffing out his broad, hairy chest. "But I do not question your edicts. I only ask that you hold the judging now."

Before I could answer him there came a sharp cry from a female who had perched herself in the branches above our heads in order that she might better observe everything that went on.

"Danger! Danger!" she shrieked. "A silticum!"

Every cave-ape instantly took to the trees, and I heard the crashing of a huge creature in the underbrush as it swiftly made its way through the forest. Evidently the silticum which had attacked the Doravian guards had seen us, even as Loralie had feared, and was now on our trail.

Quickly taking the last clip of explosive projectiles from my belt, I removed two of the needle-like missiles and bound each to the head of an arrow. Then I strung my bow and awaited the coming of the monster.

Chixa called to me from the leaf crown of a tall tree-fern. "Come up into the trees, Rogo. You cannot fight a silticum."

"Yes, climb before it is too late," called Griff. "No one has ever slain a silticum."

Although I knew nothing of the ways of this saurian, I had seen its great size and knew that if it had intelligence enough to do so it could pull down any tree within my range of vision. In view of this fact, and also because I could not get about as swiftly as the cave-apes in the trees, I felt safer on the ground.

"Stay up in the trees if you like," I answered them. "I will show you how your king slays a silticum."

In a few moments I saw the huge green head swaying on the snaky neck at a height of about twenty feet above the ground. It was looking this way and that, apparently searching for me. As it drew closer I saw that it was indeed the same monster that had attacked the machine men in the boat, for projecting through its lower jaw was the transparent sword blade where the Doravian guardsman had thrust it, and which the creature had been unable to dislodge.

I fitted an explosive arrow to my bowstring, and at this moment the monster spied me. With a hiss like steam escaping from a locomotive, it distended its enormous jaws and charged straight for me. Taking careful aim at the cavernous maw, I drew the arrow back to the head and let fly.

The reptile turned slightly so my shaft did not strike the target squarely, but considering the terrific force of the tork projectile this did not greatly matter. For although the missile struck the monster in the corner of the mouth, the explosion tore off the whole side of its head.

I instantly fitted my second arrow to the bowstring, but instead of advancing the great saurian swerved to one side and began threshing about in a circle, striking this way and that with its huge, scaly tail which swept the fern trunks before it, knocking them over as if they had been mere reeds. As the tail now appeared to be the most formidable weapon of the beast, I aimed my second shaft with a view to crippling this appendage, and let fly.

It struck the monster just above one of its thick hind legs, blasting a great hole in the flank and not only crippling the tail but both hind legs as well.

Upon seeing this, the cave-apes instantly descended on the stricken reptile with yells of triumph, and were soon hacking at its heaving sides with their saw-edged clubs and prying up huge scales with their flint knives in order to get at the quivering flesh underneath.

"Hail, Zinlo!" the shouted. "Mighty warrior, mighty hunter, mighty sorcerer! With his magic he slays even the silticum, the terror of stream and forest!"

As I watched the cave-apes at their bloody feast, I recalled that I, too, was hungry. Elbowing my way through the growling, snarling, milling mob, I carved a steak from the shoulder with my keen Doravian dagger. Then I made a small cooking fire and grilled my slab of meat. It proved tasty enough, although rather tougher than a gourmet would have relished. But with good teeth and an excellent appetite this bothered me not at all.

By the time I had finished, and swallowed a draught from a water fern, my hairy retainers had all gorged themselves.

I arose and called them together. They squatted expectantly around me in a semicircle. "You, Griff," I said. "Bring me that shiny club which sticks in the jaw of the silticum."

After he had brought me the sword of the Doravian boatman, I continued, "You have asked that judging be done before we fight. I have no time for judging now, so I am going to let you do it. This shiny club will be your token of authority, by which you will do judging in my name. Go now, taking the shes with you, back to the caves. And beware that your decisions are just ones, for I will hear of it, and will come and slay you with my magic if they are not."

"But Rogo," he protested, "I would like to go and fight the food-men with your others."

"You will do as you are bidden without further question. Throw away your old club and take this shiny one which slays with its point as well as its edges."

Silently, and rather sullenly, he removed his club from his belt string and tossed it away. Then he took the sword and lumbered away through the forest, followed by the females.

As soon as they had departed I called the others together and started off on the trail of Prince Gadrimel. But darkness overtook us before we had gone more than five miles, and we were forced to take to the trees to avoid the depredations of the night-roving carnivora.

Propped in a high leaf crown that swayed with each passing breeze I didn't get much sleep during that noisy night, oppressed by my constant fear for Loralie in the clutches of her unscrupulous cousin.

It was with a sigh of relief that I greeted the dawn and made my way to the ground. Impatient to be off, I stopped only for a drink of water, then started down the well-marked trail with my small but formidable company. The spoor of Loralie's abductors continued to follow the winding course of the River of Life for about six miles to the remains of a large camp which had been completely surrounded by watch fires. Most of these were still smoldering as we came up.

Of the people of Prince Gadrimel we saw no sign, save tracks leading to the river where there were indentations made by the prows of small craft.

I led my ape-men at a trot along the flat, sandy beach for miles. The river bank gradually grew more rugged, and at last we climbed to a rocky eminence commanding a view of both sea and river.

Anchored not more than an eighth of a mile off this point, and rocking in the gently rolling swell, I saw the five ships of Prince Gadrimel. Paddling swiftly toward them from the river mouth were a score of small boats, in the foremost of which were two scarlet-clad figures which I knew must be Gadrimel and Loralie.

Helplessly I watched while his henchmen bundled the princess aboard the flagship, boats were drawn up to their places on the decks, sails were hoisted, and anchors weighed.

So, with straining eyes, a great lump in my throat and a weight in my heart, I saw Gadrimel triumphantly sail away over the bounding, blue-gray Ropok with the only woman I have ever loved.

As I stood there, absent-mindedly watching my subjects scurry through the forest in search of game, I pondered my predicament. The only thing left for me to do, I reasoned, was to follow the coast northward as Loralie and I had planned to do. In order to reach Olba I would pass through Adonijar, but single-handed I could do nothing against an entire nation.

Once in Olba I felt that I could persuade the Torrogo to let his supposed son have an air fleet for the purpose of avenging the attempted murder of the Crown Prince, and with this I could quickly persuade the ruler of Adonijar to give up the princess.

I dreamed thus futilely until a great splash of rain struck me in the face, followed by the patter of many more on the leaves around me. Brought to a sudden realization of my surroundings, I noticed that the gentle wash of the waves against the shore had changed to the booming roar of huge breakers, that the trees were bending before a considerable breeze, and that despite the fact that the day was not yet spent it was growing steadily darker.

A terrific peal of thunder, followed by a vivid flash of lightning, made every cave-ape drop the bone he was gnawing and look toward me as if for protection or guidance.

"Zog makes magic in the heavens, Rogo," said Rorg, quaking with fear. "Zog is angry. Let us hide until he goes away. I noticed a great cave beneath the next cliff when I was hunting."

Glancing around at the other beast-men, I saw that Rorg was not the only one who had been frightened by the peal of thunder. Every cave-ape was shivering in abject terror.

"Lead the way to the cave, Rorg," I said. "I do not fear Zog, but there is much rain and much wind coming from across the big water, and a cave will be more comfortable."

The frightened cave-ape needed no urging, but hurried off at once, the others after him, while I brought up the rear at a more leisurely pace. Peal after peal of thunder sounded, the lightning flashed almost incessantly, and rain came down in torrents before I reached the cave mouth.

Entering, I beheld my erstwhile fearless fighters huddled together like frightened frellas and shivering as if with the ague.

"Every one fears Zog," explained a young ape.

"Your Rogo does not fear him," I said, "and you should not. Come and help me pile stones in the doorway lest a silticum or some other monster get in tonight."

"We are afraid to go to the doorway," quavered Rorg. 'Zog will slay us with his magic fire."

"Enough of this. Come over here and help me, every one of you, or I will slay you all with my magic."

The tragic fear which was in their eyes was pitiful to behold, but they were not long in choosing between what they believed would be sure death from my magic and possible death from the bolts of the deity they called "Zog." The doorway was soon so completely blocked that no night-roaming beast could enter.

Night having come on by this time, the only light in the cave was from the frequent flashes of lightning.

For a long time I stood at the entrance. Each lightning flash showed branches flying through the air, fern-trees blown over, and wild things, large and small, scurrying for shelter.

I was awakened in the morning by a loud clatter and the sound of gruff voices. Sitting up with a yawn, I stretched my cramped limbs as I watched Rorg and several other cave-apes dragging the barricade away from the cave entrance. Gone was the unreasoning fear that had gripped them the night before.

I rose and followed them outside. The storm had vanished, and other than the upper cloud envelope which is ever present in the Zarovian sky, the heavens were clear. But the still-dripping fern forest plainly showed the ravages of the tempest. The ground was littered with leaves and branches; trees were bent over, snapped off and uprooted, and many streams of muddy water trickled riverward.

Crossing the gulch which separated our cave from the highest eminence, I climbed to the point where I had been standing the night before when the storm struck, to find some spore pods. As I gazed out over the Ropok, now rolling as gently as it had before the storm, my munching terminated in a sudden exclamation of surprise.

Lying on their sides far out in the surf with the waves rolling over them, and apparently deserted, I saw the battered hulls of two of Prince Gadrimel's ships. And anchored on the lee side of the promontory on which I stood, were the other three ships, their spars and rigging in most sorry case. The flagship, I observed, was the one anchored nearest the point of the headland, indicating that Loralie had escaped death, for which I was deeply thankful. From where I stood I could see the crews of the three ships busy repairing the damages which the storm had wrought.

Crouching in order that I might not be observed, I made my way back into the gulch, where most of my fierce retainers were finishing their morning meal.

"The food-men have returned," I said. "Keep out of sight so they will not know that we are here. And do not go far away, as I will probably need you to fight very soon."

"We will remain nearby, Rogo," said Rorg. "We are all very hungry for the flesh of food-men."

I returned to my lookout on the rock and tried to formulate some plan of attack. Presently I saw two scarlet-clad figures appear on the deck of the flagship. The smaller of the two was constantly attended by two armed warriors. Gadrimel had evidently found it expedient to keep the princess under constant surveillance.

But a plan did not suggest itself to me until I saw several boats lowered and a party of officers, headed by Gadrimel, put off for shore. Dashing back to the gulch where my cave-apes were grouped, I said, "Some of the food-men are coming ashore. We will divide into two parties of equal size, one of which will be under the leadership of Rorg. The other I will lead.

"Bores party will go down near the shore at the spot toward which they are coming. With his warriors he will climb into the trees, taking care lest the food-men see any of them, for they carry magical clubs which can kill at a great distance. As soon as the food-men enter the forest, Rorg and his warriors will drop down on them from the trees and surprise them. They can thus be slain before they have a chance to use their magic clubs. Do you understand, Rorg?"

"I understand, Rogo," replied the old cave-ape. "The food-men will not see us until we fall upon and slay them."

Calling the other cave-apes to follow me, I hurried to the other side of the promontory and descended its steep seaward side where we were hidden from view of the ships. Then, cutting the string I had with me into appropriate lengths, I tore a number of fronds from a wide-leafed variety of bush-fern, and proceeded to bind these to the heads of my subjects, spreading them in such a manner that at a distance they would effectually conceal the heads and shoulders of the great brutes. Disguising myself in the same manner, I led my savage followers to the very point of the promontory and into the water.

"You will all keep close together in the water," I said, "and follow me without noise. There are many trees and branches floating down the river this morning, and if we swim carefully and silently we will not be noticed."

Peering around the point, I saw that Gadrimel and his hunters had landed and were starting into the forest. Then there came to me faintly the yells of startled men and the roars of fighting cave-apes, interspersed with the popping of torks and clash of weapons, and I knew that all eyes on board the ship would be directed toward the scene of battle.

"Now," I said, and plunging into the water, swam around the point and straight for the flagship. Just behind me, in such close formation that we must have appeared like a single, tangled mass of floating branches, came my camouflaged apes.

The flagship was not more than a thousand feet from the point, but before we could reach it I saw more boats put off from all the ships and make swiftly for the scene of combat on shore.

We came up under the prow of the ship just as the sounds of conflict announced the arrival of the small boats at the beach where the battle was taking place.

Silently I seized the taut anchor chain and went up, hand over hand. Just as silently, my ape warriors followed. On reaching the top, I peered cautiously through the railing. Loralie and her two guards were standing on the starboard side watching the battle on shore. There were three men aloft, apparently there to repair the rigging, but they, too, had their eyes trained shoreward.

Without a sound, I climbed over the railing, and with sword in one hand and dagger in the other, advanced toward the two men. Simultaneously, I jabbed the point of my dagger in the back of one, and the point of my sword in the other.

"One false move," I said, "and you die. Raise your hands above your heads and keep your faces shoreward."

They complied with alacrity. With a little scream of fear, Loralie turned to see what had happened.

"Zinlo!" she exclaimed. "I knew you would come!"

"Take their weapons, my princess."

She quickly removed their belts from which depended their torks and scarbos.

Three of the apes had meanwhile scrambled aloft after the men in the rigging, and the others were searching the ship.

"Bring to me alive those who do not resist," I shouted. "You may slay the others."

My words had the desired effect on Gadrimel's men, for although those in the rigging all carried short scarbos, none offered to fight. Other than these three and the two I had disarmed, the apes found only the cook and his helper.

When the prisoners had all been rounded up, I addressed them.

"All of you who are willing to take orders from me will give the royal salute. The others will be quickly deposed of, as my apes are hungry."

To a man, they saluted.

"You three," I said, addressing the men who had been aloft, "hoist the sails. And you," pointing to the two guards, "heave the anchor."

I sent the cook and his helper back to their pots and pans under guard of two apes. Then I took the helm with Loralie at my side and as the sails filled, steered for the open sea.

We had nearly passed the point of the promontory when the boom of a mattork and the sing of its shell through our rigging announced that we had been discovered.

"Can you steer?" I asked Loralie.

"Better than you, landsman," she answered laughingly. "Give me the helm."

Her father ruled the greatest maritime nation on Zarovia.

"Make for the open sea," I said, "and I'll see if my marksmanship is better than my steering." The mattork, which was nothing but an oversized tork mounted on a tripod, stood nearby swathed in its water-proof covering. Beside it was the case which contained the clips of projectiles with their various designations printed in patoa: Solid, Paralyzing, Deadly, Explosive.

Stripping the cover from the weapon, I chose a clip of explosive projectiles and inserted it in the breech. By this time two mattorks on each of the anchored ships had opened fire, and shells were screaming around us. One snapped a shroud, and I ordered a sailor up to replace it. Another burst against our hull. And still others, ricocheting from the surface of the water, whined plaintively as they sped on their way.

I took careful aim at the rear mattork on the nearest ship and pressed the button. But the weapon was strange to me, and equally strange was the experience of firing a projectile from a ship. I saw my shell strike the water far behind the mark.

Again I took aim, this time allowing for the rocking of the ship. To my surprise, my shell burst just beneath my target, tearing the gunner to shreds and knocking the weapon from its tripod.

I tried another shot at the forward mattork, but it went wild. Then both boats slipped from our view as we rounded the promontory.

"My marksmanship is as wretched as my handling of a boat," I said. "But they cannot harry us for a time, at least. Where to now, my princess?"

With one hand she reached for my own, drew my arm around her slender waist. The other still skillfully managed the helm.

"Whither you will, beloved," she replied. "Shall it be Olba or Tyrhana—north or south?"

"Which is nearer?"

"They are about equally distant from here."

"Then let us try for Olba, for there I am sure Gadrimel dare not follow us."

Gently she brought the boat about until its prow pointed directly north. "It will not be long before Gadrimel sets out after us."

"He may have been slain by Rorg and his apes."

"Not he," replied Loralie. "I was watching from the ship, and saw that he was the first to run for the beach when they were attacked. Standing beside a boat and ready to put off at a sign of a turn in the tide of battle, he used his tork, but did not get into the thick of the fight. A cautious youth, my cousin."

It was not long before her prediction was fulfilled. One of the ships nosed around the promontory and came after us with all sails up.

I sprang to the mattork and fired. It was a bad miss. Again I fired. This time my projectile struck the water close to the target. I was getting the range. But when I would have fired a third time there was an explosion in the breech. The projectile had jammed and the safety plug had blown out.

Frantically I worked with the recalcitrant weapon, momentarily expecting a volley from our pursuers. But none came. Evidently the prince had forbidden the use of mattorks because of the presence of Loralie on our vessel.

Suddenly a terrific explosion from the front of our vessel knocked me flat. Half dazed, I gripped a leg of the tripod for support just as the deck gave a violent lurch forward.

My prostrate body swung halfway over, and I saw with horror that the front end of the ship had been completely blown away and she was plunging into the waves, nose down. I have never learned the cause of that explosion, but believe that the cook or his helper found a way to outwit their ape guards and destroy the vessel.

My gaze flashed to the wheel, but the princess was nowhere in sight, then I heard a shout from the water behind me. Loralie was swimming in the wake of the swiftly sinking vessel. "Jump!" she cried. "Jump quickly, or you will be dragged down with the ship!"

I sprang to the rail and leaped over. A moment later I was swimming beside her as we both strained every muscle in our endeavor to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the stricken vessel before she went down.

But try as we would, we could not escape the mighty suction of the boat as it plunged beneath the waves. Like tossing corks we were dragged back in spite of our utmost efforts. But by the time we reached the center of the whirlpool it had so far subsided that the water was comparatively calm and we were not drawn under.

Presently bits of wreckage began to come up around us. A huge timber suddenly popped to the surface. We swam to it and found it amply buoyant to sustain our combined weight in the water.

As we topped the crest of a wave I glanced back. The first ship was within a quarter of a mile of us, and I caught a glimpse of a scarlet-clad figure in the bow, eagerly scanning the water with a glass.

I was still looking back when a cry from Loralie attracted my attention in another direction. "A killer norgal! The scourge of the Ropok has seen us! We are doomed!"

Bearing down on us at terrific speed, I saw an enormous fish. Its body, fully thirty feet in length, was blue in color, and bristled with sharp spines of a deep crimson shade. Its huge jaws, large enough to have swallowed ten men at a gulp, were open, revealing row on row of sharp, back-curved teeth.

"Better that than Gadrimel," said Loralie with a shudder, "for we can die together. One last kiss, beloved, for it is the end."

Our lips met and clung, across the timber. Then I drew my sword, puny weapon indeed with which to meet such an enemy.

CHAPTER XIII

As WE CLUNG to the timber there in the tossing waves, Loralie and I, the killer norgal swiftly surged closer and closer. There was no mistaking its purpose. It had seen us and singled us out for its prey.

Suddenly a dark shadow fell on us from above. A shot rang out, followed by a muffled explosion. Where the gaping mouth of the fish had been was only a bloody mass of flesh and bone. The mighty carcass lurched, flopped about for a moment, and then turned belly upward.

Above us loomed the great bulk of an aerial battleship, swiftly descending. It hovered only a short distance above our heads. A door opened in the side and a flexible metal ladder was lowered to us. I helped Loralie to mount, then went up after, hand over hand.

An officer in the uniform of Olba helped me into the ship. He was the mojak, or captain of the vessel.

Then he bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, as did every other man in sight. "Your name, officer," I said.

"Lotar," he answered, "at your highness's service."

"Lotar, you will find quarters for Her Highness Loralie of Tyrhana, then start immediately for the Imperial Palace at Olba."

"I hear and obey," he replied, and dashed off to give the necessary orders.

We mounted to the rear turret, the princess and I, and watched the two ships of Gadrimel fast disappearing from view. Why he did not fire at us I have never learned. Possibly because the princess was on board, but more probably because he feared the powerful mattorks of the mighty Olban airship.

The princess presently retired to her quarters to rest, and I went forward with Lotar, who was directing the pilot in the first turret. "How long should it take us to get to Olba?" I asked.

The young mojak consulted his charts and instruments for a moment.

"We should be able to make the palace by nightfall, Highness," he said. "This ship is rated at a rotation."

A rotation, I recalled, meant the speed at which Venus turns on her axis, approximately a thousand miles an hour.

"Who sent you after us?"

"Your Highness's father has had the entire air fleet of Olba scouring the planet for you since your disappearance from the Black Tower. His Majesty assigned a patrol zone to each ship. I have been flying above this zone for many days. Attracted by the explosion which destroyed your ship, I flew over to investigate. With the aid of my glass I saw you and Her Highness in the water, and the norgal swimming toward you. As a marksman I have won many prizes in tournaments with the mattork. It was a simple matter for me to kill the norgal with an explosive projectile."

"It was excellent shooting," I said, "and it not only saved my life, but a life that is infinitely dearer to me. You will not find me ungrateful."

"My greatest reward lies in the knowledge that I have saved your highness for Olba. There will be great rejoicing throughout the length and breadth of the empire when the people learn that you are alive. And greatest of all will be the joy of His Imperial Majesty, Torrogo Hadjez."

For some time I strolled about the ship, examining her armament and admiring the luxury of her appointments. Presently, Loralie came out of her stateroom. We went to the salon, where hot kova was served to us in jewel-encrusted golden cups.

Night fell just as we flew above the great crescent-shaped harbor of Tureno, and its myriad lights flashed on as did those of Olba. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the lighted windows of the Black Tower as we hurtled past it. Then the pilot gently slowed the ship until we were directly above the Imperial Palace.

As we dropped toward the flat roof a number of guards came running toward us. Two of them seized the ladder which we dropped and held it while the princess descended. Then I followed.

A mojak in the uniform of the palace guard stepped up and tendered the royal salute. "His majesty will be overjoyed, highness. It was his command that I bring you before him as soon as you arrive."

There was something strangely familiar about the features of this officer. I tried to place him as he conducted Loralie and me down the telekinetic elevator.

When it stopped he bowed us into a spacious hall which led to a great, arched doorway hung with curtains of scarlet and gold, at each side of which stood two guards armed with torks, scarbos and long-bladed spears.

The four guards bowed obsequiously as we came up. Then two of them parted the curtains and there stood before us another individual whose face seemed strangely familiar to me. Yet he wore the pompous uniform of a torrango, or prime minister, which I recognized from my studies, and I knew I had never met the prime minister of Olba.

As soon as he saw me, he bowed low with right hand extended palm downward. "His Majesty the Torrogo bids you welcome. Whom may I announce as accompanying you?"

"Her Highness, Loralie. Torrogina of Tyrhana," I replied.

He bowed once more and departed. A moment later I heard him announcing our names and titles. Then a voice, which also seemed familiar to me, said, "You will conduct them before the throne."

As we followed the prime minister into the large and magnificent throne room of Olba, more guards saluted and fell in behind us. A guard of honor, I thought.

I had never seen Torrogo Hadjez, and was curious for a look at his face, but restrained my impatience until Loralie plucked at my arm.

"Look!" she whispered. "Look who sits upon the throne!"

I raised my eyes, and the features of my arch-enemy, Taliboz, leered down at me. For a moment I was stunned as I saw him sitting there, arrayed in the royal scarlet and wearing the insignia of the Torrogo of Olba. Then my hand flew to my sword hilt and I sprang forward. But before I could take a second step strong arms pinioned my own from behind and my weapons were wrested from me.

"I trust," Taliboz said, bowing to Loralie, "that you will excuse this poor reception, but as your coming was unexpected we were totally unprepared to greet you with the pomp and circumstance due visiting royalty." He turned to his minister. "See that suitable apartments are prepared for Her Highness of Tyrhana at once and conduct her there, Maribo. And Vinzeth," he said, addressing the mojak who had conducted us to the throne room, "you will also conduct Torrogi Zinlo to the suite that awaits his coming."

"You fiend!" said Loralie, facing him with flashing eyes. "What are you going to do with the prince!"

"Have no fear, Your Highness," responded Taliboz. "No harm shall come to him. Not now, anyway. Later, his fate shall rest in your fair hands."

I was dragged out a side door by two guards.

They took me down a small elevator which, it seemed to me, traveled into the very bowels of the planet before it stopped. Then I was jerked out of the car and pulled along a narrow, dimly lighted passageway that seemed to have been hewn from solid rock, until we came before a door of massive metal bars.

One of the guards produced a key with which he unlocked this door, and I was flung inside with such force that I fell sprawling on a cold stone floor and the door clanged shut behind me.

Scarcely had I fallen to the stone floor of the dungeon cell into which I had been hurled, when a shadowy form darted from its dim interior and was helping me to my feet.

"Are you hurt, Highness?" the man asked solicitously. I recognized the voice instantly, though the features were still indistinguishable to me, my eyes not having become accustomed to the semidarkness.

"Lotar!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I was placed under arrest with all my officers and crew immediately after you left with the villainous Vinzeth. So far as I know, my men are confined in the cells around us."

"But what is the meaning of it all? Where is the Torrogo Hadjez, and how did Taliboz attain the scarlet and the imperial throne?"

"At the time of Your Highness's disappearance from the Black Tower, Taliboz and a number of his henchmen disappeared also," said Lotar. "A short time ago he returned alone, disguised as a merchant of Adonijar and driving one of the swift mechanical vehicles which are manufactured in that country. His disguise was penetrated by a soldier of the imperial guard, who placed him under arrest and took him before Torrogo Hadjez.

"His Majesty questioned Taliboz about your disappearance, and he told a story which was believed by some and discredited by others—namely, that there was a plot on foot among the guards of the Black Tower to assassinate you as you slept. He said that he, with Vinzeth and Maribo and his men, had fought, protecting you from death, until they were driven back, and you were dragged to the tower top and spirited away by the plotters in one of the tower airships.

"As quickly as he could, so his story went, he returned to his fighting craft and set out in pursuit of your abductors. They finally crashed, he said, in the wild country of the cave-apes beyond Adonijar, where you and your abductors were killed in the crash. All of his men were killed and eaten by cave-apes, and he barely escaped with his life to Adonijar, where he had purchased a merchant's outfit and vehicle with which to traverse the high road to Olba."

"I have met liars," I said, "on three planets, but Taliboz seems to be prince of them all. This, however, does not explain how the traitor attained the throne. I left him, paralyzed by a tork projectile, in a forest near the mountains of the cave-apes. That he escaped the perils of the jungle is little short of miraculous."

"No one could disprove the story told by Taliboz," Lotar pointed out, "as everyone in the Black Tower had been slain. Torrogo Hadjez could do nothing but thank him for attempting to save your life, reward him with costly presents, and restore to him all the honor and authority which had been his before his departure. That the Torrogo did not believe his story, however, was evidenced by the fact that his air navy continued to patrol the globe in search of Your Highness."

Someone rapped sharply on one of the massive bars of the cell door with the hilt of a weapon. It was one of the guards assigned to patrol the corridor.

"Less noise in there, prisoners," he growled, then passed on.

"I learned more while we were being held in one of the upper rooms after our arrest on the palace roof," continued Lotar softly. "As you are probably aware, every man who awaited us on the roof was a henchman of Taliboz. Your Imperial father, Highness, died at the hands of an assassin several days ago. The dagger found driven in his back was proved to be that of Arnifek, his prime minister. With Torrogo Hadjez dead and your highness presumably so, there was no successor to the throne and it was necessary for a new Torrogo to be elected by acclamation. Taliboz was thus elected. He immediately had Arnifek, the supposed assassin, executed, made Maribo his prime minister, and Vinzeth captain of the palace guards."

"Do you think Arnifek was guilty of the murder?"

"Of course not. Taliboz—or one of his tools—did it with Arnifek's dagger. It was part of his plan to get control of the Olban government. Why he has let you live even this long is a mystery to me."

"It is no mystery to me," I answered. "He dropped some hint of his purpose before he sent me from the throne room, for I heard him tell Princess Loralie that my fate should rest in her hands. He will attempt to force Loralie into marriage with him by threatening my life—and have me slain once the marriage is consummated."

"You are right, Highness," said Lotar. "Taliboz plays for even greater stakes—to unite the only air power and the mightiest maritime nation of Zarovia, Olba and Tyrhana, by marriage. Adonijar would probably form an alliance with him because her ruler is married to the princess's aunt. He would be the wealthiest and most influential monarch on the globe. Nor is there a single nation powerful enough to oppose such a strong alliance—not even Reabon, with her mighty army. Reabon is far across the ocean, and besides, her great warlike Torrogo died recently, leaving his daughter, Vernia, to rule in his stead."

"Reabon," I mused. "The name sounds familiar. Ah, I remember. That is the country to which Grandon went."

"Grandon?" he exclaimed, puzzled. "The name has a foreign sound."

"An old friend of mine. You would not know him. He is, as you say, a foreigner…Is this Taliboz so popular that the people would gladly make him Torrogo by acclamation?"

"Far from it, Highness," replied Lotar, "though he probably persuaded some of them to espouse his cause by convincing them that he had risked his life in an attempt to save yours."

"It looks," I said, "as if it were impossible to escape from here."

"I am familiar with these dungeons, Highness, as I served in the palace guard for two years. There is a way to escape—a secret way which I doubt very much whether Taliboz himself knows. But we must first get past yonder barred door and the armed guard in the corridor."

"If that is all," I replied, "I see freedom in the offing. Follow my instructions implicitly, and we'll soon be out of this."

"You have but to command, Highness."

"Very well. When next the guard approaches on his rounds, talk very loudly. No doubt he will stop and order you to be silent. When he does this, insult him."

"But he will only come in and beat me with the flat of his scarbo, Highness."

"Do as I say, Lotar. I will attend to the rest."

It was not long before we heard the heavy footfalls of the guard in the corridor. I immediately started a conversation with my companion in a loud voice.

"Silence!" roared the guard. "The other prisoners want to sleep."

"Be on your way, you clumsy lout," replied Lotar, "and do not in the future forget how to address your superiors."

"My superiors! Ho, ho!" jeered the guard. "Very soon will I show you who is superior, a prisoner or his jailer."

He took a bunch of keys from his belt pouch and fumbled among them until he found the one that fitted our door.

"Now see what you have done, Lotar," I exclaimed, simulating great fear. "You have got us a beating with that noisy tongue of yours."

The guard flung open the door, a grin of delight on his features. Such a man would not only welcome any opportunity to torture a fellow creature, but would seek such an opportunity.

"So, O cub of a dead marmelot, you fear a beating," snarled the guard. "It is well that a weakling such as you can never mount the throne."

"Were he on the throne," Lotar snapped, "hahoes like you would be working in the quarries where they belong!"

The guard raised his scarbo for a heavy blow at the defenseless Lotar. This gave me the opening for which I had been waiting. With a single bound I was in front of him. Before he could recover from his surprise I planted a crashing right hook on the point of his jaw. He went down like a felled ninepin, nor was a second blow necessary.

I gave his tork and dagger to Lotar, but retained the scarbo myself. It took us but a few moments to bind and gag the prostrate guard with the straps of his own accouterments. We dragged him back into a corner, closed and locked the cell door, and tiptoed stealthily down the corridor, the young captain in the lead.

"Let us release your men," I said.

"Your Highness's life is too precious to risk for them. Still, if it is your Highness's command…

"It is."

Pausing before the first cell door, Lotar peered within.

"Here are six of them," he whispered, testing his keys in the lock.

Looking over his shoulder, I saw six shadowy forms on the floor, and could hear their breathing as they slept.

When he had found the right key, Lotar opened the door quietly and stepped within. One by one he awakened the sleeping men, cautioning silence.

We went from cell to cell until we had released forty-five men—all but five of the crew of Lotar's aerial battleship. He was opening their cell door when we heard the clatter of footsteps, the clank of weapons and the sound of talking. Armed men were approaching by way of a transverse corridor.

"Quick, into this cell, every man of you," I ordered.

Silently our forty-five filed into the cell with the remaining five. When all were inside there was standing room only.

"Now, Lotar," I whispered, "let us go to greet our callers."

He whipped out his dagger and followed me to the intersection of the two corridors, where we crouched, breathlessly awaiting the approach of the enemy.

CHAPTER XIV

As LOTAR and I crouched against the corridor wall in the dungeon beneath the Imperial Palace of Olba we could hear our unseen enemies drawing nearer and nearer in the transverse passage way. How many there were, or how well they were armed, we had no means of knowing. But we were desperate, and had there been an entire company of them we could have done nothing but fight like cornered rats.

Two guards, fully armed, suddenly rounded the turn facing us. Out came the scarbo of the one nearest me, but before he could use it my point had found his throat. He went down with a queer gurgling sound. Lotar had, meanwhile, sprung on the other guard like an enraged marmelot, burying his dagger in his breast. Simultaneously, we withdrew our dripping weapons, thinking this was all, when suddenly a third guard rounded the corner.

This time we had no element of surprise in our favor, for he had seen us as quickly as we had him.

He quickly clapped his hand to his tork, at the same time raising his voice to alarm the guards. "Help! Two pris—"

He said no more, nor had he even an opportunity to press the tork button, for with lightning quickness that the eye could scarce follow, Lotar had hurled his bloody dagger straight at the enemy's face. It entered his opened mouth with such force that the point protruded from the back of his neck and the hilt clicked against his teeth. With a look of amazement and horror on his twisted features, he slumped to the floor.

"Get their weapons, Lotar," I ordered, and hurried to summon our men. With the weapons of the three guards we partly armed six of them, and once more hurried away under the guidance of Lotar.

But we had not gone far when there was a great clamor and much shouting behind us, and we knew our escape had been detected. We bounded forward now, without any attempt at silence. A moment later Lotar called a halt before a huge, cylindrical pillar about three feet in diameter, which to all outward appearances was exactly like the many other pillars which supported the stone roof of the corridor.

Whipping out his dagger, he pressed the point into a tiny crack in the floor in front of it, whereupon, much to my amazement, I saw that the pillar was turning quite rapidly, and as it turned, moved up into the rock above it like a gigantic screw. In a few seconds its base was above the floor, and beneath it there yawned a black well.

"Into it, every man of you, quickly," ordered Lotar.

The man nearest the wall paused gingerly on the edge.

"Leap," ordered the captain. "It is not far."

In he went, and we could see that the spot where he had landed was scarcely seven feet below the floor level. After him, as fast as they could find room, crowded the other men. But meanwhile, the sounds from behind us told us that our pursuers were dangerously near.

It seemed an age before the last man leaped into the hole, followed quickly by Lotar and me.

Stooping down, the young mojak pressed a lever in the floor. The pillar started downward, the direction of its turning reversed, and soon we stood in total darkness. Judging from the sounds above, the thing had been accomplished just in time. The large party of guards above clattered on past without even stopping to investigate.

"They do not suspect," said Lotar, "which is well. It may be that we shall want to pass this way again. Come, I will lead the way."

As none of us had the means to make a light, we moved forward like blind men, following the voice of Lotar, who seemed to know the way by heart. "A steep slope ahead," he would sing out, or, "A sharp turn here. Look out for it." We followed him in the inky blackness.

The tunnel had apparently been hewn through the rock stratum that underlay this part of Olba. How it was ventilated I had no means of knowing, but though the air was cool and moist it seemed quite fresh.

When we had traveled for more than an hour in this fashion, I asked Lotar how much farther we had to go.

"We are but a third of the way, Highness," he responded. "This tunnel leads to the Black Tower."

"And whom do you expect to find in the Black Tower?"

"Friends. It is hardly likely that Taliboz has manned it with his henchmen so soon, but even if he has, some of us are armed and we have the advantage of surprise on our side."

"Unless," I observed, "he discovers that we have come this way and sets a trap for us."

"It is not likely. The guards in the dungeon were completely baffled. By now I doubt not that the traitorous Taliboz is exceedingly mystified and furiously angry."

It was nearly ten Earth miles from the Imperial Palace to the Black Tower, so that, traveling blindly as we were, it took us more than three and a half hours to make the trip.

When we reached our destination, Lotar cautioned silence and groped about in the darkness for some time. Then I heard the click of a lever and the turning of a cylinder, and presently a circle of light appeared above our heads—most welcome after three and a half hours of intense darkness.

Gripping the edge of the floor, Lotar drew himself up and peered cautiously about. Evidently satisfied that he was unobserved, he clambered on out of the hole, beckoning to us to follow. It was not long before we had our entire company lined up in a large room, the ceiling of which was supported by pillars similar to the one which had been raised to let us in. Lotar then pressed the hidden button that started the pillar rotating in the opposite direction, and watched it turn back into place, leaving no sign of the way by which we had come.

There were three windows in the room through which the first faint streaks of dawn were visible. There were also three doors. Lotar slowly and carefully opened one of these. But scarcely had he looked out ere a sharp challenge was hurled at him from the corridor.

"Move and you die! Who are you?"

"Lotar, Mojak in the Imperial Air Navy," replied the young officer.

"What do you here?"

"That," replied Lotar, "I will tell your mojak if you will fetch him. Who is in command here?"

"Pasuki commands," replied the guard.

"A good and loyal soldier. Take me before him."

He motioned with his hand for us to remain in the room. Then he stepped out, closing the door after him. Evidently the guard had not the slightest suspicion of our presence.

Not more than ten minutes elapsed ere the door opened once more and Lotar entered, followed by a tall, straight, white-bearded man who wore the uniform of Mojak of the Black Tower Guards, easily distinguished by the small replica of the tower worn on the helmet and the same device in relief on the breastplate.

The old soldier bowed low with right hand extended palm downward.

"Pasuki is yours to command as of old, Highness," he said, "and overjoyed that the report of Your Highness's death was false."

I did not, of course, remember Pasuki, but it was quite evident that he remembered the former Zinlo. "You were ever a true and loyal soldier, Pasuki," I replied. "See that these men I have brought with me are fed, housed and armed."

After a brief order for the disposal of Lotar's men to a mojo who waited outside, Pasuki conducted us to the telekinetic elevator and by it to my apartments.

"I'll send for you men soon," I told them. "Meanwhile we must try to devise some plan of attack on this wily Taliboz, and find a way to rescue Her Highness of Tyrhana."

Pasuki and Lotar bowed low and withdrew.

After a bath and a change of clothing, I was served with the usual huge and variegated breakfast with which Zarovian royalty tempts its appetite, to the accompaniment of gold service and scarlet napery.

But ere I had completed this meal, a page came to announce that a man who had just been admitted to the tower, craved immediate audience with me. "Who is he?" I asked.

"He gave the name of Vorvan to Pasuki, who questioned him and seemed satisfied of his loyalty," replied the page.

"Then show him in," I answered. The name Vorvan had a familiar ring, and I was trying to remember where I had heard it before when a man clad in the conventional blue garb of a tradesman entered.

He appeared about fifty years of age, and his square-cut beard had an unnatural reddish tinge, as if it had been dyed. His eyebrows were similarly treated, and a bandage was drawn across one cheek and the bridge of the nose, as if he had been recently wounded. I could not remember ever having seen the man before, yet there was something about him that was strangely familiar.

He bowed low, right hand extended palm downward.

"I have a message for Your Highness's ears alone," he said, with a significant look at the three men who were serving my breakfast.

"Won't you have some breakfast?" I asked.

"With Your Highness's leave I will decline, as I have already breakfasted. There is much to be done, and time presses." Again he glanced impatiently at the servants.

With a wave of my hand, I dismissed them.

"The page told me you gave the name of Vorvan," I said when they were gone. "Both the name and yourself seem somehow vaguely familiar, yet I cannot remember having heard it, nor having seen you before."

"Then my disguise must be effective, Highness," he answered, with a smile which was also familiar. "I am Vorn Vangal."

The smile and the name instantly brought a flood of recollections. This was indeed Vorn Vangal, the man who had arranged with Dr. Morgan to bring me to Venus-Vorn Vangal, the great nobleman, scientist and psychologist of Olba—the man who had welcomed me to Venus with the identical smile he was now wearing.

But at that time he had been attired in the purple and the glittering bejeweled panoply of a great noble, and his beard and hair had been iron gray. A bit of dye, a bandage, and the clothing of a tradesman had wrought vast change in his appearance.

"I'll try to answer Your Highness's questions in due order," Vorn Vangal said. "I returned from Reabon one week after I left you in the Black Tower, expecting to find you here, safe and sound. You may imagine my astonishment when I learned that you and Taliboz had disappeared, that your guards had been slain, and that a number of dead henchmen of Taliboz had been found here.

"I immediately established telepathic communication with Dr. Morgan who was to keep in constant rapport with you, and from him I learned what had happened to you. Then I went to Torrogo Hadjez and persuaded him to patrol the area where it might be expected that you would be found. You were moving about so much that it was impossible for the airships to find you in any specific location I might name. Part of the time you didn't know where you were, hence your subjective mind could not inform Dr. Morgan, and through him, me.

"Of course I knew the report of Taliboz was a lie when he said you had been killed, but I did not dare to so inform Torrogo Hadjez. He would have demanded to know the source of my knowledge, which would have forced me to disclose the fact that his son was on your world and you were taking his place here.

"I decided to personally conduct a search for you in an aerial battleship, and Torrogo Hadjez provided me with one for the purpose, but we encountered a terrific storm before we had gone far, and the ship was forced to land, hopelessly crippled, near the Olba-Adonijar border. I immediately took a motor vehicle back to Olba, but was placed under arrest as soon as I entered the city gates, for Torrogo Hadjez had been assassinated and Taliboz was on the throne.

"He condemned me to die as a traitor, and confiscated my city palace as well as my lands, estates and treasure. With the aid of a few faithful friends, I managed to escape before his sentence could be carried out, disguised myself as a tradesman, and came here, having learned through Dr. Morgan that this was where you were to be found."

"And now," I asked, "have you any plans for rescuing the Princess Loralie and disposing of Taliboz?"

"The only method I can think of will be a bloody revolution. Most of the men who garrison the palace and the city are men of the usurper. The men who previously filled these ranks have been sent to work on and guard the private estates of Taliboz, far to the north of Olba. If we were to proclaim your return, Taliboz would immediately denounce you as an impostor, a price would be placed on your head, and you would be hunted by every military man under his command.

"The best way, I believe, will be for you to remain here until I can arouse the patriotic citizens of Olba, secretly telling them of your presence here. You can then come to Olba in disguise, and we can make a concerted effort to capture the palace and do away with the traitor who sits on the throne."

"But that will take considerable time," I said, "and in the meantime, what of Loralie?"

This question went unanswered, for at this moment one of my guards entered with the statement that Pasuki and Lotar craved immediate audience as they had a communication of the utmost importance.

"Admit them," I said.

Both saluted hurriedly as they came in, and seemed greatly agitated. "Your Highness's presence here has been discovered," said Lotar. "We must get you away at once."

"I am sorry to inform you that there must have been a traitor among my men," said Pasuki, "planted there, no doubt, by Taliboz to spy on my doings. One of my faithful servants, however, was watching Taliboz, and has dispatched a messenger to me with the information that the usurper has mobilized an army of five thousand men who are already marching on the Black Tower."

CHAPTER XV

As I SAT facing the three men, Pasuki, Lotar, and Vorn Vangal, all faithful to me, but with no plans for meeting the emergency created by the advance of the army which was ten times the strength of the garrison of the Black Tower, an idea came to me.

"Will Taliboz accompany the army, Pasuki?" I asked.

"It is probable, Highness, but I cannot be certain."

"How many men in your garrison?"

"Four hundred and fifty, not counting Lotar's fifty. We could not hold the tower long against the attack of five thousand. It is best that we disband the garrison and make our escape in the flyers on the roof of the tower. There are two there, each of which will carry two men."

"But what of the princess? If you men and your followers are willing to fight both for her and for me, I have a plan—a precarious one, but possible of execution—for saving her and dethroning Taliboz."

They pledged their loyalty.

"Very well," I said. "Prepare, then, all of you, to obey my orders without question. They may seem strange to you, but if they do, remember that they are designed to outwit Taliboz. You, Pasuki, will prepare for the defense of the Black Tower at once with all your mattorks and men. You, Lotar, will keep your men armed and ready for my call, but out of sight. See that every one of them is provided with a portable light, and that there are several extra lights. Vorn Vangal will remain at my side for the present."

The two men hurried away to carry out my commands, and I leisurely finished my breakfast, while Vorn Vangal kept anxious watch out the window.

"They draw near, Highness," he said excitedly, "and Taliboz is with them, for I see the personal standard of the Torrogo in their midst."

"Good." I went to the window. Taliboz was bringing up a mighty host indeed, compared to our small garrison. When they were within a thousand yards of the walls that surrounded the tower, they deployed to the right and left. A man bearing a banner on which was written in large letters the Zarovian word "dua"—which, under the circumstances meant, "a truce"—left the ranks and marched toward the main gate of the tower wall.

"A herald," said Vorn Vangal. "Taliboz would treat with us."

"Let us go to the top of the tower."

We quickly took a telekinetic elevator.

"We are completely surrounded now," said Vorn Vangal. "There will be no escape. Even if we were to try to get away in the airships we should immediately be shot down by their mattork crews."

"We are not yet ready to attempt an escape."

The herald stopped near the gates and shouted a command to Pasuki to deliver to His Imperial Majesty, Taliboz of Olba, "the usurper who calls himself Zinlo of Olba." He offered a free pardon to Pasuki and his men.

"You will return to His Majesty," replied Pasuki, "our regrets that we are unable to comply with his order, as we have no usurper in the Black Tower."

"Who is that man in scarlet I see standing on the roof of the topmost segment?" demanded the herald. "If that be not Zinlo of Olba…" He checked himself, then continued, "If that be not the usurper who calls himself Zinlo of Olba, who is he?"

"He is Zinlo of Olba. Tell that to your traitorous master, and bid him come and bend the knee to the man whose throne he has stolen." Turning contemptuously, Pasuki walked away from the parapet.

"Pasuki has played his part well," I informed Vorn Vangal. "Now, remove your disguise; if possible get rid of that villainous-looking hair dye; array your self in the purple that suits your true station, and then report to me in my apartments."

"I will carry out Your Highness's commands at once," replied Vorn Vangal, and hurried to the elevator.

I watched the herald as he picked his way through the encircling army to a point some distance behind it where a man stood, garbed in the royal scarlet, surrounded by officers and courtiers. I knew that he must be Taliboz.

Scarcely had the herald bowed before him ere he sent a number of officers scurrying toward the front lines. A mattork spoke. The shell went screaming past the tower only a few feet from my head. A second shell exploded near me, tearing away part of the battlement.

As our mattorks replied, a general bombardment started, and the soldiers of the encircling army took advantage of natural cover when it was to be had, or threw themselves flat and dug in. I judged that they planned to bombard the tower before attempting to storm it.

Shells were rattling like hail against the upper battlements when I took the elevator and descended to my apartments. Here I found Vorn Vangal, once more the great Olban noble I had first seen.

Together we entered the elevator once more and descended to the fifth underground level, where Lotar's men were mobilized. The young mojak saluted and then stood awaiting my orders. Even at this depth the thunderous sounds of the battle came faintly from above, and I could see that both men and commander longed, even as did I, to be in the thick of it. But I had other work for all, which might prove as exciting and far more dangerous.

"Have you the lights, Lotar?" I asked.

"Every man has been provided with a light, and there are several to spare, Highness."

"Then give one each to Vorn Vangal and me, and we will start for the palace at once, the way we came. Hurry!"

Lotar quickly handed us a light each, and then led us to the pillar from beneath which we had entered the Black Tower. I led the way into the pit beneath it as soon as it was raised, closely followed by Vorn Vangal, and leaving Lotar to close the entrance and bring up the rear.

Traveling with lights, it was easy to maintain a pace much faster than our previous one when we had walked in total darkness.

"How many guards do you think there will be in the palace?" I asked Vorn Vangal as he jogged along beside me.

"Normally there are a thousand constantly on duty in the palace and grounds. However, it may be that Taliboz has taken some of these with him in order to fill the ranks of his hastily organized army. If this is the case, he may have left two or three hundred, perhaps five hundred men."

"Whether there be two hundred or a thousand, we must take the palace," I said. "In either case we will be tremendously outnumbered, but we have the advantage of surprise in our favor."

When we reached the palace, I called a halt to give the men a rest, and passed back word for Lotar to come up.

As soon as he joined us, I told him my plans for taking the palace. Then I pulled the lever which operated the pillar above us, and we all snapped off our lights.

When the pillar was high enough I drew myself up and peered over the edge of the floor through the dim light of the dungeon. Only one guard was in sight, and he was walking away from me. Silently I threw a knee over the edge, stood erect, and signed for the others to follow me. When every man was out, Lotar pressed the hidden button which closed the wall.

At the suggestion of Vorn Vangal, our torks were loaded with the projectiles which paralyze for several hours but do not kill unless they happen to strike a vital spot. By using these bullets we could render our opponents helpless without actually killing them, and would not be bothered with guarding prisoners.

As Vorn Vangal had surmised, Taliboz had taken a number of the palace guards with him when he started for the Black Tower. We found only one man patrolling the corridors of the level we were on, and he was quickly put out of the way. On the next level we found two guards, and on each of the three dungeon levels above it, two. Although they were not taken completely by surprise, having heard our shots, they were easily overcome.

On the ground level, Lotar took twenty men and started out in one direction while his lieutenant took another twenty and went in the opposite direction. With the ten remaining men, Vorn Vangal and I took an elevator to the roof.

Here we found only a dozen men on guard, and quickly shot down all but one, who surrendered in terror, for he did not know that we were not using the deadly bullets in our torks. There were six aerial battleships on the roof but crews in none of them. I also noticed several small, one-man airships. One of these suddenly rose and started for the Black Tower, but Vorn Vangal leaped to a mattork and shot it down. It crashed in one of the busiest streets of Olba, drawing a great crowd and halting traffic.

Quickly searching the other airships, we found them untenanted.

By questioning the man we had captured, we found that Vinzeth, Mojak of the Palace Guards, had ordered most of his men to the dungeon, and had gone there himself to direct the fighting.

"Now, Vorn Vangal," I said when we were in control of the roof, "do you think that by spreading the knowledge of my return in Olba you can get us a few more fighting men?"

"I can raise a vast army, and that quickly. They may not all be trained soldiers, but every male Olban knows how to use a tork and scarbo."

"Then you will remain here in charge of the roof, retaining five men at all times to defend the stairway. The other five you may use as messengers to summon your friends. As all these men are from an aerial battleship, I assume that they know how to handle the small airships."

"They do," replied Vangal.

I then sent for the prisoner. When he was brought before me I asked him where the Princess of Tyrhana was imprisoned.

"I do not know, Your Highness," he replied.

"Have a care how you lie to me," I warned him.

"I swear it, Highness. I have no idea of her whereabouts."

"Cling to your falsehood, knave! We shall see if it will sustain you in mid-air. Pitch him over the battlements, men."

The two warriors who had brought him immediately began dragging him toward the battlements. He struggled unsuccessfully to break away from them, feet threshing, eyes rolling in terror.

"Wait!" he shrieked. "I know! I will tell!"

"Bring him back," I ordered. "He shall have another chance."

Once more they brought him before me, this time trembling with terror and thoroughly cowed.

"Speak," I said. "And tell the truth this time."

"Her Highness has apartments on the floor just beneath us," he said quaveringly. "The last floor at which the elevators stop."

"And how is she guarded?"

"Two men guard her door, and she has two female attendants."

I did not wait to hear more but dashed down the stairway. After traversing several corridors, I saw two guards standing before a door draped with scarlet, and knew I had the right place. One of the guards saw me as soon as I saw him, and our torks spoke in unison. His bullet struck my sword hilt, but mine stretched him, unconscious, on the floor. The other guard wheeled just in time to receive my second bullet and share the fate of his companion.

Rushing up to the doorway, I ripped aside the scarlet drape and tried to open the door, but it was locked. I quickly searched both fallen guards but could find no keys in the belt pouches of either.

Arising, I rapped loudly and called the name of Loralie.

A woman's voice answered me from within. It was the voice of my princess. "Who is there?"

"It is I, Zinlo," I replied. "Open the door, quickly."

"Zinlo, beloved!" she answered. "I had almost lost hope of your coming. But I cannot open the door. It was locked from the outside, and we have no keys in here."

"Then I'll break it down," I answered. "Stand away from it."

Backing across the corridor, I ran at the door, hurling my body against it, but it was sturdily fashioned from thick planks of tough serah wood, and my sole reward for my onslaught against it was a bruised shoulder.

Again and again I hurled myself against it with the same result.

Then I whipped out my scarbo, resolved to hew my way through it, when I suddenly heard the sound of men running behind me. Wheeling, I beheld the brutal, leering features of Vinzeth. Behind him came a dozen palace guardsmen. I reached for my tork, but before my hand touched it, his spoke. There was a soaring pain in my already bruised shoulder, a dizzy nausea swept over me, and all went black before my eyes.

When I regained consciousness after being shot down by Vinzeth, I had a furious headache, a terrific pain in my shoulder, and a tremendous thirst. I was lying on a mattress on the roof, with Vorn Vangal bending over me, holding a phial of some pungent liquid beneath my nostrils. Lotar was standing near by.

"Where is Loralie?" asked. "Have you rescued her?"

"Here, drink this," said Vorn Vangal, removing the phial from beneath my nostrils and holding a steaming bowl to my lips. "Then I will tell you." I recognized the fragrant aromatic smell of kova, and drank deeply. The hot, stimulating beverage sent the blood coursing warmly through my veins.

When I had drunk, Vorn Vangal said, "Lotar and his men not only conquered the guards stationed on every floor they came to, but defeated the fifty guards which Vinzeth took down from the roof to oppose them, driving them upward from floor to floor until only a dozen remained with their mojak. Evidently intending to get the princess and escape in one of the airships, Vinzeth retreated with his twelve men while Lotar was conquering the guards posted on the floor that is second from the top. This took only a short time, but when Lotar reached the top floor he saw Vinzeth standing over you with a scarbo, ready to give you the death blow.

"He instantly opened fire, whereupon Vinzeth transferred his attention from you to the only avenue of escape left to him—the door to the apartments of the princess. With a key from his belt pouch he succeeded in opening it and getting inside with two of his men. The others were shot down by Lotar and his warriors.

"Finding you were not dead, but only temporarily paralyzed, Lotar had you brought up to the roof by two of his men, and with the others who were with him, demanded that Vinzeth surrender and give up the princess. But Vinzeth refused to surrender, and swore that if the door were broken down the princess should be instantly slain."

"How long ago was this?"

"It occurred about three hours ago. The effect of the narcotic in the tork bullets lasts about that long."

"And she is still in there with him?" I asked, sitting up.

"What could we do, Highness? We have surrounded the room, but if we break in she will undoubtedly be slain. Vinzeth is a desperate character."

"You are right. We must find some way to outwit this Vinzeth."

"We have not been unsuccessful in other ways," said Vorn Vangal. "Already I have raised a citizen army of twenty thousand men, and more volunteers pour into our ranks constantly. The city is in the hands of the loyal commanders I have appointed, and a thousand men who are trustworthy guard the palace from roof to dungeons."

"What about Pasuki in the Black Tower? I had intended to have you send him reenforcements by way of the tunnel as soon as you could get them, but forgot it."

"In this I acted without Your Highness's command, guessing your intentions," said Vorn Vangal. "Five thousand men have already traveled to the relief of Pasuki through the tunnel. When all get there, his men will outnumber those of Taliboz. And they will have a decided advantage any time he decides to storm the tower. The twenty thousand citizen troops are mobilized near the south gate, awaiting your orders."

Just as he finished speaking a small, one-man flyer alighted on the roof. The man who stepped out looked around him for a moment, then espying our group, ran toward us.

"I have just come from Tureno," he announced. "A mighty battle fleet is in the harbor—the fleet of Tyrhana. And in the flagship rides Ad, Torrogo of Tyrhana, who demands that his daughter be delivered to him safe and sound, or he will immediately reduce Tureno and march on Olba. With him, also, are two ships, in one of which is Prince Gadrimel of Adonijar. He threatens an immediate declaration of war by his nation if his cousin, the Princess of Tyrhana, be not immediately returned unharmed to her imperial sire."

"Never mind Prince Gadrimel," I told the messenger, "but fly at once to the flagship of Torrogo Ad. Tell him that his daughter has been kidnapped by one of the mojaks of Taliboz, and we are trying to rescue her. Tell him further that if he cares to, he is welcome to land his army in Tureno, and that such citizens of Tureno as are available and can bear arms will march with him and assist him if he is bent on attacking the army of the man who abducted his daughter and usurped the throne of Olba."

The messenger made obeisance and departed.

I turned to Vorn Vangal. "Send another messenger at once to the King of Tureno. Tell him it is my command that he permit the soldiers of Tyrhana to land, and that he send as many men with them as he can gather to fight Taliboz. You will then go yourself and take command of the citizen army that waits at the south gate of the city, starting immediately for the Black Tower and surrounding the army of Taliboz, if possible."

Vorn Vangal hurried away to carry out my orders, and I swung on Lotar. "By looking over the battlements, can you point out the windows of the room in which Her Highness is confined?"

"Yes, Highness."

"First send for a long, strong rope," I commanded. "Then show me the windows—and be sure you make no mistake."

He sent a man scurrying for a rope and then went to the parapet and leaned over. I leaned over with him and he pointed downward.

"That window," he said, indicating one almost directly beneath us, "opens on the reception room of her apartment. The one to the left opens on her bedroom, the right on her bath."

At the sound of footsteps behind us we turned. Two soldiers bearing a large coil of stout rope saluted.

"Put down the rope," I ordered. "Now you, Lotar, go down in front of the door of the princess's apartment. Make a great noise, demand the release of the prisoner, and engage Vinzeth in an argument if you can. Don't do anything until you hear a commotion inside, or until I call you. Then break down the door."

With a quiet smile, which showed his full comprehension of my plan, Lotar hurried down the stairway.

Making a tight loop in the end of the rope, I brought it over the parapet at a position directly above the window which opened on Loralie's bedroom. Then, telling the two soldiers to let me down until I held out one hand for them to stop, I swung over the battlement, and with one foot in the loop and both hands gripping the rope, was swiftly and silently lowered. As soon as I was opposite the window, I signaled the men to cease lowering me. Because of the projection of the battlements, I hung about three feet from the window ledge. Below me was a sheer drop of about a hundred feet to the balcony roof of the next segment.

Gripping the rope with both hands, I worked it as a child works a swing until it began to move back and forth, first toward, then away from the window ledge. Nearer and nearer it swung until I was finally able to hook a foot over the ledge and draw myself inside. Cautiously dropping to the floor, I found the room deserted and the door closed. From beyond the door came men's voices raised in altercation.

Scarbo in hand, I tiptoed to the door and gently opened it a little way. Standing near the large central window, but looking toward the entrance to the corridor, were Loralie and her two handmaidens. Just in front of them, and also facing the door, were Vinzeth and his two men.

I had no idea whether the two maids with Loralie were friendly to my cause or to that of Taliboz, but I took a chance, and, reaching out, touched the arm of the one nearest me, then held my finger to my lips for silence. She started and gave a little cry of fear which caused me to snatch at my tork, but it went unnoticed by the three men because of the clamor in the corridor.

Motioning the girl into the bedroom, I touched her companion in a like manner, and also succeeded in getting her out of the way without noise. I then touched Loralie lightly on the shoulder. She swung on me, a furious look in her eyes, but it was instantly replaced by one of infinite tenderness when she recognized me. She went with me quickly enough into the bedroom, but when I started out again she threw her arms around my neck to detain me.

"Don't go, please," she whispered. "They will kill you. Close the door and stay in here."

I smiled, kissed her, and pushed her away.

"Lock the door after me," I said in a whisper. "In case I lose the fight, Lotar will break in from the corridor before Vinzeth can harm you."

Then I stepped out and softly closed the door after me. At this instant one of the men, turned, facing me. For a moment he stared incredulously; then he reached for his tork. But mine was already leveled at him, and I fired.

At the sound of the shot, Vinzeth and the other ruffian swung about. I shot the latter, but the mojak of Taliboz was too quick for me. Without pausing to draw a weapon, he sprang in so close that I was unable to use mine, and we went down in a heap, kicking, clawing, striking and gouging each other like a pair of wild animals.

The corridor door, meanwhile, was splintering from thunderous blows on its exterior. Although the thick serali planking was exceedingly tough, it was evident that it could not much longer withstand the terrific assault. Lotar had evidently found something that made an efficient battering ram.

All this came to me subconsciously as I fought, for I was too busy with my powerful and wily antagonist to think of anything else. Back and forth we struggled, rolling over and over, crashing against furniture and pulling down hangings, each man kept so occupied by the other that he was unable to use a weapon.

Presently I managed to get a short arm jolt to Vinzeth's jaw, which partly dazed him, and was about to repeat the process when he suddenly caught me in the solar plexus with his knee. With the wind completely knocked out of me, I sank, gasping, to the floor.

He uttered a yell of triumph, and whipping out his scarbo, swung it aloft with the evident intention of splitting my skull.

But ere he could bring it down, there was a final, rending crash from the corridor doorway, followed by the cracking of a tork. With a look of horrified unbelief on his features, Vinzeth dropped his scarbo and pitched forward on his face, his body lying across me.

Lotar quickly dragged him off me, and flung him into the corner as if he had been a sack of grain. I sat up but was unable to talk.

When I regained my speech I called to Loralie, telling her that it was now safe to open the door. Recognizing my voice, she came out and knelt beside me, pulling my head down on her breast and asking me where I was wounded.

But I reassured her, and a moment later, having managed to regain my breath, I stood up. "Man one of the aerial battleships at once, Lotar," I said. "We're going to pay our respects to Taliboz."

While we waited for Lotar to get the ship ready for flight, Loralie and I stood on the palace roof, looking toward the Black Tower.

Lotar sent us each a glass, and with the aid of these, we could watch what was transpiring.

The citizens' army which had started out from Olba was now less than two miles from the tower and spread out in an immense crescent. Marching from Tureno, and almost as close to the besieged tower, was an army almost as large as that of Olba, deployed in the same manner. On account of his low position and the rolling formation of the ground, Taliboz had not yet seen his approaching enemies. His men, who had evidently been previously repulsed, judging from the bodies that lay before the wall, were forming for a new assault on the Black Tower.

We were watching the horns of the two crescents draw together when Lotar called to me, "The ship is ready, Highness."

CHAPTER XVI

LORALIE AND I boarded the aerial battleship. It was the same one that had rescued us from the killer norgal and brought us to Olba, manned in part by the same crew, and commanded by Lotar.

By my command he piloted the ship to a point directly above the Black Tower, and hovered there. The armies from the north and south had, by this time, completed their encircling movement and were rapidly closing in on the unsuspecting army of Taliboz.

Zinlo of Olba, to Taliboz: You are surrounded by an army of forty thousand warriors. As the Black Tower is garrisoned with five thousand men, you cannot hope to take it. You have your choice of unconditional surrender or annihilation. If you surrender, lay down your arms and raise the "dua" pennon. If not, you alone are responsible for what will follow.

ZINLO

Rolling it up and weighting it with an empty tork clip, I hurled it down at the spot where the Imperial Standard of Olba fluttered in the wind.

With the aid of my glass I watched its flight downward, and saw it fall near one of the officers, who carried it to his commander.

Unrolling it, Taliboz read it, then passed it to the man nearest him. Upon careful scrutiny with the glass, I saw the man was Maribo, his prime minister. After the latter had read it, the two engaged in a lengthy argument in which several of the others joined.

I judged from their attitudes that the other officers sided with Maribo, and that Taliboz stood alone in whatever decision he had made. While the argument was going on, the first skirmish line of the encircling army opened fire.

Suddenly wheeling and walking away from Maribo and the others, I saw Taliboz shout something to a mattork crew and point toward our ship. A moment later a shell screamed past me. This was his answer.

A gunner in our forward turret promptly replied, wiping out the crew of the mattork from which the shot had been fired.

But Maribo and the other officers apparently did not approve of the way Taliboz had replied to our missive. With positive defeat staring them in the face, they appeared to be united in favor of immediate surrender. At least they did not interfere with Maribo when he ran up behind Taliboz just as the traitor was ordering another gun crew to fire on us, and deliberately stabbed him in the back.

Scarcely had the stricken traitor sunk to the ground ere Maribo gave an order to the standard bearer. Instantly the banner of Taliboz was lowered and the pennon of peace raised, while the shout of "dua" went around the lines. The fighting ceased almost instantly, and with their weapons on the ground and their hands clasped behind their heads in token of submission, the warriors who had set out so confidently that morning to reduce the Black Tower, were taken prisoners.

"Now that they have surrendered," said Loralie anxiously, "can't we go and see my poor father?"

"We'll get him and take him to the palace at once. I want him to be my guest as long as he cares to stay."

"And I want you to ask him something just as soon as you get a chance," she said with a meaning smile. "Remember Cousin Gadrimel is with him. He is very fond of my cousin."

We flew southward to where the standards of the Torrogo of Tyrhana, the Torrogi of Adonijar, and my Rogo of Tureno fluttered in the breeze, then descended.

As Loralie and I got down from the ship, three men came to meet us. All wore the scarlet of royalty. The foremost I recognized instantly by his mincing gait as Prince Gadrimel. The other two I did not know except by their insignia.

Loralie flung herself into the arms of the taller of the two, a straight, athletic-appearing monarch with snapping brown eyes and a square cut, jet black beard. I judged him to be about forty years of age.

"Father!" she cried joyously.

He kissed her hungrily, then held her away from him, looking her over from head to foot. "My little girl. I can scarcely believe it is you, alive and well. Rather had I lost my empire and my life than that harm had come to you."

"This is Zinlo of Olba, Father," she said, indicating me. "Prince Zinlo, my father, Torrogo Ad of Tyrhana."

"You have placed me deeply in your debt by bringing my daughter to me unharmed," said Ad.

"Had there been a debt, Your Majesty," I replied, "it would have been canceled long ago by the pleasure of Her Highness's company."

Gadrimel came up and bowed formally, muttering something about being grateful to me for having rescued his dear cousin and fiancee. The other in scarlet was the Rogo of Tureno.

I asked that he arrange for the entertainment of all soldiers and sailors of Adonijar and Tyrhana, in his city, at the expense of the Imperial Government of Olba.

Ad and Gadrimel then got aboard with us. We flew to the Black Tower, where we took Pasuki on board, and to the headquarters of the citizens' army, where we picked up Vorn Vangal. Then we flew to the palace.

When quarters had been assigned to our guests, Vorn Vangal enthusiastically undertook the task of supervising preparations for a great feast to be held that evening. I met my guests in the imperial reception room, where I ordered kova served.

Gadrimel was so attentive to Loralie that I scarcely had an opportunity to speak to her. So I called her father out on the balcony, told him I loved Princess Loralie, and asked him for her hand in marriage.

Ad looked astonished. "Beard of my grandfather!" he thundered. "What's this you say? Her hand in marriage? Is it possible that you are not aware that she is to marry her cousin Gadrimel?"

"I knew that she was betrothed to Gadrimel against her will," I replied, "but that does not stop us from loving each other."

"From loving each other! Loralie—come here, child." He added, "Excuse us a moment, Gadrimel."

Loralie came out through the window, visibly a little frightened at his tone.

"I hope," he said gravely, when she stood before him, "that you will deny, once and for all, that you love His Highness of Olba. You know my wishes with regard to Gadrimel!"

For a moment she hung her head, but for a moment only. Then she raised it proudly, and with tears brimming in her glorious eyes answered, "Father, I love him, and have told him so."

On the dark brows of Ad a storm of anger was gathering.

"By the blood and bones of Thorth!" he roared. "Do you thus defy me—me, your father? You ingrate! I swear by my head and beard that I'll wed you to Gadrimel at once and take you to Adonijar."

"Father, please!" Great tears were streaming down her cheeks now.

"Your Highness," Ad said to me shortly, "you will confer a favor on me by leaving us."

I bowed and departed, striving to conceal my bitter disappointment as I entered the room where we had left Gadrimel. The prince had a most unwonted grin on his effeminate face, and I had no doubt but that he had been listening a moment before at the window.

He instantly began a lisping chatter about our many adventures together, and his own heroic exploits after we had parted company in the fern-forest.

At intervals when he stopped talking long enough to sip his kova I could hear the sobbing of Loralie on the balcony and the rumbling voice of her father. Suddenly Ad appeared to lose his temper again, for he roared, "He did, did he? Why, of all the…"

He strode to the window, his face a thundercloud of wrath. Loralie hurried after him. I leaped to my feet, expecting physical violence.

But he did not even look at me. Instead, he walked to where Gadrimel was sitting and, seizing him by the scruff of the neck, jerked him erect.

"You insolent cub!" he roared, shaking the prince until his teeth rattled and his eyes nearly popped from his head. "You mincing, lisping, addle-headed popinjay! So you would abduct my daughter and force her to marry you! Lucky it is for you that I am constrained to remember you are the son of my sister. Were it not for that I should wring your neck and hurl you from the battlements."

"I—ah, ah, you're choking me," gasped the prince.

"Did you think I was fondling you, you wretch?" thundered the Emperor of Tyrhana, and shot the princeling through the window by applying his toe to the youth's center of gravity. Nor did he return, but slunk away through another room.

A look of serenity gradually settled over Ad's clouded brow. "Your Highness, like all men, I sometimes change my mind."

"It is a mark of greatness," I replied, bowing.

"Tonight at dinner, my children, I will announce your betrothal."

Before either of us could reply a guard entered and announced that Vorn Vangal, Pasuki and Lotar craved immediate audience.

"If Your Highness can spare a moment to the people," said Vangal, "please be so good as to show yourself on the balcony."

"What is up?" I asked.

"A little technicality to be cleared up," he answered. "Taliboz was only wounded and not killed as we thought. He has escaped. Under the law he is still Torrogo of Olba because he has been legally so acclaimed, thus taking precedence over your otherwise perfectly legal succession to the throne. Knowing all the circumstances the people of Olba now wish to acclaim you Emperor, so there will be no complications hereafter."

I walked to the balcony. The palace grounds were thronged with a close-packed, surging populace. The streets were jammed with people, and every window ledge, balcony, housetop and wall in sight was packed.

As soon as I appeared above the battlements a hundred thousand scarbos flashed aloft in the hands of the men, and a hundred thousand white scarves were waved above the mighty sea of humanity by the women and girls. A great cheer rose, swelling in volume until it seemed that it must shake the very palace.

"Hail Zinlo, Torrogo of Olba!"

I bowed in acknowledgment of this tremendous ovation, whereupon every voice was suddenly stilled.

"I thank you, my people," I shouted down to them. "I will ever strive faithfully to fulfill the trust you have placed in me."

Once more the scarves and scarbos flashed aloft. Once more a thunderous cheer rolled up. Bowing, I returned to the room and the congratulations of my friends.

With the deepest satisfaction I appointed Vorn Vangal prime minister, and gave the command of army and aerial forces to Pasuki and Lotar. My three loyal friends made obeisance and departed, leaving Loralie, Ad and myself alone.

"Since you have made so free with your favors, Your Majesty," smiled Loralie, "what have you left for me? Am I not also to be honored?"

"Why, yes," I answered, as, unmindful of her father's presence, her arms went around my neck. "As soon as you grant me leave, I'll make you Torroga, Empress of Olba."

"It's the highest honor an empire can bestow," laughed Ad, "for be he in palace or hovel a man is ever subject to the sweet will of his wife."

"Agreed," I replied. "And now, little wife to be, what is your pleasure?"

"If you were not so busy talking nonsense to Father," she pouted, "you would see that I have been waiting for you to kiss me."

THUS ENDS the tale of Rorgen Takkor's adventures on Venus, up to the time that he was securely established as Zinlo, Torrogo of Olba. However, lest the perceptive reader remind me that this security was precarious at the very least—since Rorgen Takkor had merely exchanged personalities with Zinlo of Venus, who was meanwhile on Earth in the body of the man known as Harry Thorne—let me assure him that I have not forgotten this fact.

Robert Grandon was in exactly the same position, in Reabon, at the close of his story, which is told in "The Planet of Peril." Those who have read that story know that the resolution of Grandon's difficulty in this regard also solved Rorgen Takkor's problem. So I will only mention here that neither Grandon nor Takkor had to worry about being taken from their wives and thrones and returned to their Earth bodies; but how this came about you will have to read the novel mentioned above to discover.

The Author.

THE END

Port of Peril

First Published 1932

Contents

I. The Theft of Vernia

II. Grandon Pursues

III. The Cunning of San Thoy

IV. A Treacherous Shoal

V. The Toad People

VI. The Deceptive Light

VII. Human Sacrifice

VIII. The Wrath of the Serpent

IX. The Secret Gate

X. The Port of Peril

XI. The Sea Rats

XII. In the Seraglio

XIII. Grandon Meets the Rogo

XIV. Kantar's Blunder

XV. Beasts of the Antarctic

XVI. Zinlo of Olba

XVII. The Death Sentence

XVIII. The Allies Attack

XIX. The Duel

XX. Retribution and Reward

I. The Theft of Vernia

PERHAPS THE furniture and decorations of the personal apartment of Robert Grandon would have appeared bizarre to earthly eyes. Its paneled walls were hung with strange weapons and still stranger trophies of the battlefield and chase-prized treasures of a soldier and a hunter. Skins of marmelots, fiercest cats of the Zorovian fern forests, and tremendous bear-like monsters known as ramphs, magnificent specimens all, were flung on the floor. Cloud-filtered sunlight entered through two immense windows that reached from floor to ceiling, opening on a private balcony which overlooked the palace gardens.

A marmelot, carved from red wood and supporting a round top of polished crystal formed a table in the center of the room. Around it, in chairs carved in the representation of kneeling giants holding scarlet cushions which formed both seats and backs, were four men.

"The power of the Huitsen must be broken, and broken forever," cried Aardven, brawny, bull-necked ruler of Adonijar. And he banged his huge fist on the table for emphasis, causing the kova cups to dance and rattle.

Robert Grandon, former Chicago clubman who had fought his way to the throne of Reabon, mightiest empire of Venus, grimly nodded his assent, as did his two other guests, Ad, ruler of Tyrhana, and Zinlo, ruler of Olba. For the sake of privacy and comfort, he had dispensed with the rigid formality of the throne room, and received them in his own drawing room.

Ad of Tyrhana stroked his square-cut, jet black beard meditatively. Then he turned to Grandon. I fear we have disturbed you at a most inopportune time. A man about to start on a honeymoon should not be annoyed with affairs of state. It was only after we learned of the latest outrage perpetrated by the yellow pirates, that Aardvan and I, who were awaiting Zinlo's return to Olba, decided to hurry here in one of his swift airships.

"When he heard that one of my ships of war, crippled by a storm and half sinking, was set upon by these yellow fiends, part of its crew massacred and the rest carried off prisoners, and my daughter Narine taken to I know not what fate, we felt that something must be done, and done quickly."

"And I heartily agree with you," said Grandon. "The imperial navy of Reabon is at your disposal. Do you have any plan of action to suggest?"

"I felt sure you would come in with us," said Ad, "especially after my talk with Zinlo this morning. As I have intimated previously, we must make our plans in secret, and carry them out as unobtrusively as possible. The Huitsenni have spies everywhere. They have the treasure to hire the vile traitors among our people who will sell their honor for personal gains, but because of their peculiar physical characteristics they can do no eavesdropping among us themselves.".

"We should have two main objectives: to sink or capture every pirate ship that sails the seas of Zorovia, and to find and take the secret port of Huitsen. It is a port of missing ships and treasure, of slaves who were once citizens of our own and other lands, a port of peril to every man, woman, and child on this planet."

"Have you any idea where to look for this hidden port?" asked Grandon.

"We have no definite knowledge of its location, but the belief that it lies to the south has arisen from the fact that pirate fleets, leaving a scene of pillage, have almost invariably been observed to sail southward."

"I believe my flyers can locate it," said Zinlo, toying with his kova cup.

"It's a big world," boomed the gruff Aardvan, "and it will take a deal of flying, sailing, and marching to explore it all."

"Perhaps Mernerum will help us," suggested Ad.

"I take it," replied Grandon, "that you are unaware of the strained, or rather severed relations between Mernerum and Reabon. This morning I ordered diplomatic relations severed with Zanaloth of Mernerum, because of his affront to my wife when she passed through his dominions some time ago."

"We can do well enough without that dissolute, old rake," said Zinlo. "But we're keeping you from that honeymoon trip, Grandon. I understand that your expedition was ready to march when Ad and Aardvan arrived."

"We'll give it up," Grandon assured them. "I'm sure Vernia won't mind for such, a worthy cause."

"See here," Ad protested. We don't want any such sacrifice. Allow us to take a few of your ships for the present, and perhaps some warriors and munitions in case a landing party is required. Go on your honeymoon. Later, when we've discovered the port of peril, we'll notify you, and let you in at the kill."

"But your daughter has been stolen. Every man on this planet, worthy of the name, should be willing to assist in the search."

Ad sighed deeply, musingly. "Alas," he replied, "I fear all search for her will be vain. She has been gone for so long now that I can only hope to avenge her. But, of course, I, her father, shall continue to search." He arose, and continued: "My friends and allies, we have imposed long enough on this patient, young bridegroom. I'm sure you will all agree with me when I say that we don't want his help until after the honeymoon. Let him lend us a few ships and men now, and we'll call on him later."

"Those are precisely my sentiments," roared the deep-voiced Aardvan, also rising.

"And mine," echoed Zinlo. "And so, Grandon, we'll go down and join the group outside that's waiting to see you off. By the way, where are you bound?"

"It was a toss-up whether to go to the wild mountain fastness of Uxpo, or enjoy the bathing, fishing, and boating of the Azpok coast. But the seashore won, and we chose a camping-place on a wild and unfrequented part of the coast."

"Splendid! We'll see you outside."

A half-hour later, speeded by an immense multitude that had lined the streets of Reabon to see them off, Grandon and his young bride, Vernia, Princess of Reabon, stepped into the waiting, one-wheeled motor vehicle, and with their guard of Fighting Traveks, left for the coast.

In the imperial tent of scarlet silk, decked with cloth-of-gold insignia and edged with golden fringe, Grandon opened his eyes as the first faint dawnlight appeared, for he had planned an early morning fishing-trip. He arose and dressed silently, so as not to disturb the slumber of his bride, but she heard the slight clank of his sword as he was about to step through the doorway, and wakened.

"Bob."

He turned as she softly pronounced the name by which he had been known to his friends on Earth, the name he had taught her to call him and which he loved to hear her say with her quaint, Reabonian accent.

With three steps he was at her bedside. She smiled up at him the pink and white oval of her face framed in the wealth of golden ringlets that all but concealed her silken pillow. Then she held up both arms.

"Would you leave without kissing me good-bye?" she asked reproachfully.

Contritely, he knelt beside the bed and took her in his arms.

"I did not wish to disturb your morning sleep my dear," he said, and added: "I was only going out for a little while to-have a try at a killer-norgal. I'm told they bite best at daybreak."

She took his face between her palms, drew it down to hers, and their lips met.

"Never leave me," she said, "without first kissing me good-bye. Who knows how long any separation may be? Even though we may expect to be parted for but a few moments, the hand of Providence may intervene and separate us for a long time-perhaps for eternity."

He buried his face in the soft curve of her neck as she ran her fingers through his black curls. Nor did he dream, as he held her thus for a few moments, how soon the dire prophecy in her words was to be fulfilled.

"Ill be back in a jiffy," he said, as he stood erect a few moments later.

She watched him, love and pride in her eyes, as he strode through the door. Handsome, strong, and gentle, he was an emperor-every inch of him.

Throwing a shimmering wrap of scarlet material around her, she went to the door of her tent to watch him depart. Two guards saluted stiffly as she appeared. They were members of a company of Grandon's crack troops, the Fighting Traveks from Uxpo. Each was armed with a tork, a rapid fire weapon that shot needle-like glass projectiles, a scarbo a cutting and thrusting weapon with a basket hilt and a blade curved like that of a scimitar, and a long-bladed spear.

Vernia watched him for a few moments as he stood beside his small fishing-boat in earnest conversation with Huba, mojak or captain of the company of Traveks who were guarding the camp. Six men stood on each side of the little craft, holding it's nose into the breakers. In the prow of the boat was Kantar the Gunner, carefully shielding his mattork-a weapon resembling a tork, but of considerably heavier caliber and longer range, and mounted on a tripod-from the spray that was breaking over the bow, by holding a waterproof silk cover over it.

The rest of the crew consisted of six oarsmen, a man who had charge of the sail, and another who held the tiller.

Having finished his conversation with Huba, Grandon leaped into the craft and the twelve men who were standing in the water launched her. When they reached water up to their necks, they let go, and the rowers plied their oars vigorously. Presently the sail went up, and the little boat tacked into the breeze which was just lively enough to stir the fog that hung low over the surface of the Azpok.

The princess watched the boat until the mists had swallowed it up, then turned and re-entered her tent. But scarcely, it seemed, had she crept once more beneath her warm covers, and closed her eyes in sleep, before there sounded outside the crack of a mattork, the shouts of men, and the clank of weapons, followed by a fusillade of shots that told her the camp was being attacked by a considerable body of armed men.

Jumping out of bed, Vernia called to the guard outside.

"What is it?" she asked. "What has happened?"

"Pirates, Your Majesty!" replied the guard excitedly. "We are attacked by the raiders of the coast."

She dressed as swiftly as possible, buckling the jeweled belt which held her small tork and scarbo around her slender waist. Meanwhile, the sounds of fighting drew closer and closer to the scarlet tent.

As soon as she was dressed, Vernia drew her scarbo and stepped fearlessly from the tent. Descended from a thousand fighting Torrogos, or Emperors, of Reabon, she was fully as brave as her mighty husband, even though she lacked his strength and skill in swordsmanship. With flashing eyes she surveyed the scene before her. Tugging at their anchors, less than a quarter of a mile from land, were a score of vessels which she instantly recognized from pictures she had seen as the ships of the dreaded yellow pirates, the scourge of the Azpok Ocean. Their peculiar sails branching out on either side of the mast like the wings of bats instantly identified them. And coming rapidly shoreward were no less than fifty boats loaded with armed men, each mounting a mattork in the bow. But this was not all, for converging on the camp from both sides and the rear was an immense horde of yelling, shooting pirates. Already, more than a third of the Fighting Traveks had fallen, and the tork and mattork fire from all directions was rapidly decimating the ranks of those who remained.

A dozen of the boats were sent down by Huba's mattork gunners before the landing-party reached the shore. As their prows grounded, the remaining pirates leaped out and charged the camp, and it was the signal for a general advance from all directions.

The camp had been guarded by two hundred men, but by the time of the charge, a scant forty remained. They formed a hollow square around the Princess, and met the shock of the attack with a resistance worthy of the traditions of the Fighting Traveks, though it was obvious from the beginning that there could be but one outcome.

In the hand-to-hand fighting that followed there was no report of tork or mattork-only the clash of blades, the war-cries of the fighters, the groans of the wounded, and the shrieks of the dying. Vernia and Huba fought bravely with the others, time and again leaping into the gaps left by fallen men until the line could be closed. But they were waging a hopeless fight, and presently only the Princess and the mojak were left, fighting back to back. The latter, battling three adversaries at once, was suddenly cut down by a blow from one of the pirates, and Vernia was left alone. When a man leaped in from behind, pinioning her arms, her weapons were quickly taken from her.

The looting of the camp was already in progress as she was dragged kicking and struggling, into one of the pirate boats. Everything in the camp was seized in the way of booty except the bodies of the fallen Traveks, and even these were stripped of their clothing, weapons, and accouterments. The pirates also took with them all of their own dead and wounded.

Rowed to the largest of the looters' vessels, Vernia was carried aboard and taken before an officer whose insignia proclaimed him romojak, or commander, of the fleet. Like most of the members of his race, he was short, scarcely taller than the Princess herself, but with an exceptionally long body and arms. His round, yellow face was seamed and wrinkled, and his equally round eyes, wide open and staring, were without irises. The pupils were perpendicular slits that opened and closed like those of felines. His short nose resembled the tip of a pig's snout, and there were no teeth in the chinless mouth beneath it, from the corners of which drooled saliva reddened by the juice of the kerra, the spores of a narcotic, fungoid growth chewed almost incessantly by the yellow pirates. Nor was there a sign of beard, eyebrows, or hair on the face or head, the skin of his body being covered with a greasy exudation, evidently nature's protection for these totally hairless people. Judged by the standards of his hairless, toothless race, he was probably not unhandsome. But to Vernia, facing him as his prisoner, he was a monstrosity.

"I presume you are the Torroga of Reabon," he said in patoa, with the peculiar pronunciation that a lack of teeth induces.

"You have already presumed too much," replied Vernia, spiritedly. "For this day's work, I can promise you the annihilation of the Yellow Pirates."

The gums of the romojak showed in a toothless grin. He expectorated a red stream of kerra juice, then turned to a short, bow-legged, pot-bellied mojak who stood beside him.

"Do you hear that, San Thoy?" he mouthed sneeringly. "I, Thid Yet, Romojak of the navies of Huitsen, have presumed too much!"

The mojak duplicated his kerra-stained grin.

"The Huitsenni never presume too much," he replied.

"Well said, San Thoy," approved the romojak. Then he addressed Vernia once more. "Your Majesty, the Huitsenni presume often, but never too much. Have they ever been beaten in battle? Has one of them ever been led to your court, a prisoner? Have their cities ever been found by pursuing battle fleets? Your Majesty is aware that history can answer but one word to these questions, and that word is: `No'."

"There is only one reason why it must be so answered," replied Vernia. "Cowardice. You never attack unless your overwhelming numbers assure you of victory. For this reason you never lose battles or prisoners. Your cities have not been found because you are adepts at flight from an enemy. In this there is nothing of which to be proud."

"Your Majesty calls it `cowardice'," said Thid Yet, "but we of the Huitsenni have a better word. We call it `cleverness'. However, I am not here to bandy words with you, nor dispute terms. You are my prisoner, captured not for myself, but for another. If you are reasonably docile and do not attempt to escape, you will be treated with gentleness and courtesy. If not-whatever misfortune befalls will be upon your own head." He turned to the greasy, pot-bellied mojak beside him. "Take her to her cabin, San Thoy."

II. Grandon Pursues

FAR OUT into the morning mists that shrouded the surface of the blue-gray Azpok, Grandon sailed in search of the largest and most ferocious of all Zorovian game fish-the killer-norgal. Fishing for the norgal was royal sport indeed, and fraught with great danger to the fisherman. Hunting a full-grown man-eating tiger with a lariat could be no more dangerous, and as often as not, the man who lacked skill fell a prey to the fish.

Grandon had never seen a killer-norgal, and so when he felt a sharp tug at his trolling-line, and a magnificent specimen broke water, leaping high in the air and shaking its head to dislodge the hook, he had one of the greatest thrills that had ever come to him, intrepid adventurer though he was. Its body, covered with glistening blue scales and bristling with sharp spines, was about twenty-five feet in length. Its enormous jaws, when distended, revealed row upon row of sharp, back-curved teeth in a maw large enough to take in a dozen men at a single snap.

Kantar the Gunner jerked the oily cover from his mattork, but before be could bring it to bear on the huge fish, it dived out of sight.

Grandon kept a taut line on his quarry while the crew skillfully maneuvered the little craft to follow its eccentric and exceedingly swift motions as it dragged the boat farther and farther out to sea. After more than an hour of this, the struggles of the monster became slower, indicating that it was beginning to tire. During this time, it did not once expose itself to the deadly aim of the watchful Kantar.

Suddenly, without warning, the line slackened, and although Grandon reeled in with all his might, he was unable to pull it taut. He thought at first that the fish had become unhooked, but the flash of a dorsal fin, for a moment visible above the waves and coming swiftly towards the boat, showed him the true situation. Kantar's mattork spoke, and the fin disappeared, but it was not evident whether he had registered a hit.

One of the older sailors, an experienced norgal fisherman, said:

"Beware, Majesty. The killer is about to strike."

Dropping his tackle, Grandon seized an eighteen foot lance which lay along the gunwale beside him, and poised it expectantly. He had not long to wait, for the enormous jaws suddenly emerged from the water not ten feet from him. He plunged the keen point down the cavernous maw, and Kantar's mattork spoke again and again, while the mighty jaws ground the thick shaft of tough serali wood into splinters. Hurling the useless butt from him, Grandon whipped out his sword, but he sheathed it again as the great spiny body turned over and floated belly up after a few convulsive flops. The blood which poured out through one of the gills showed that the lance point had found the heart, and several round holes through the head attested the marksmanship of Kantar.

The sailors were making the prize fast, chattering and laughing all the while, when the keen-eared Kantar suddenly cried: "Listen, I hear shooting!"

Every voice was instantly hushed, and there came, distinctly now, the sounds of a terrific bombardment from the north.

"The camp is attacked," cried an old sailor.

"To the oars," ordered Grandon, "and crowd all the sail on at once. Cut that fish loose. We must get there as soon as possible."

The huge, spiny carcass was cast adrift, and sails and oars were speedily put into use. Yet, it seemed to Grandon that the swift little boat, which fairly leaped over the waves under this double propulsion moved with snail-like slowness.

Before they had gotten half-way back to camp, the sounds of firing ceased, and Grandon, goaded by horrible fears for Vernia's safety, fumed and fretted at the inability to make better speed or see through the mists that made about two hundred yards the limit of visibility.

But when the prow of the little boat grounded on the beach, and leaping out, Grandon discovered the bloody shambles that had been his camp, strewn with the naked bodies of his Traveks his grief and anger knew no bounds.

"All dead," he said to Kantar, who stood respectfully beside him. "My noble Traveks slaughtered, and Vernia stolen. Who can have done this horrid deed? And what motive? Reabon is at peace with all nations. The camp was not rich in loot."

"There is Zanaloth of Mernerum," replied Kantar. "You have severed diplomatic relations with him. Perhaps this is his answer."

"If Zanaloth has done this," said Grandon, "he shall have war, and that speedily-such a war as this planet has never seen. I will wipe Mernerum off the face of the globe, nor will Zanaloth live long to gloat over his evil deeds. But it cannot be Zanaloth. The fact that he once affronted the Princess of Reabon when she passed through his country made it imperative that I sever diplomatic relations until full apology had been made. I might have declared war, but did not. Zanaloth should be thankful for this, as the armies of Reabon could crush a dozen Mernerums."

Walking among his dead Traveks and sorrowfully murmuring the names of those he recognized, Grandon presently found his mojak.

"My faithful friend," he said, sadly. "Huba, comrade of many a battle and bivouac." He knelt and laid his hand on the blood-smeared brow of the young officer. "Why, his head is warm!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps a spark of life remains! Fetch water and a flask of kova, quickly, Kantar."

The gunner sped away to the boat from which he brought back a flask of the aromatic and stimulating kova from the provision basket and a bailing-scoop of sea-water.

There was a huge gash in the fallen mojak's scalp, and the entire upper part of his face was covered with blood. With hands as gentle as those of a woman, Grandon bathed away the blood. Then, as the eyelids of his friend flickered, he raised the head and held the flask of kova to the mouth, forcing a small quantity of the liquid between the clenched teeth.

Huba swallowed convulsively, opened his eyes, and looked at Grandon with dull wonder in his gaze.

"You, Majesty!" he said weakly. "I thought I had been taken to the bosom of Thorth."

"You came near it," replied Grandon, "but the scarbo cut was a glancing one. Where is my wife?"

"The cursed Huitsenni attacked the camp," answered Huba. "My valiant Traveks fought well, but were cut down to the last man. Her Majesty fought with us. When all had been killed around us, she and I fought the greasy yellow horde, back to back. Then I was cut down, and knew no more. What a brave little thing she is!" He sank back, exhausted.

"Then those yellow fiends have her," said Grandon. "Their spies have worked swiftly it seems, and they were swift at reprisal. Where have they taken her? How can I follow?"

"I do not know," replied Huba, "nor do I believe anyone does, other than the pirates themselves. They raid the coasts or attack merchant or fishing ships, then disappear. As they always attack with immensely superior forces, they are never defeated. They always carry away their own dead and wounded, and take care that none of their victims are left alive to tell of their dastardly work. But a few times, men who have been left for dead have revived, even as I was revived, and thus some description of them and their deeds has, from time to time, reached civilization. Fleets of the great nations have scoured the seas, looking for their ships and their strongholds, but have found neither. Like the winds of heaven, no one knows whence they come or where they go."

"I'll find Vernia if I have to search every inch of this planet," said Grandon.

"One thing only I recall, which may be of assistance, Majesty," said Huba. "Unfortunately I was unable to see the pirates leave, but every intended victim who has ever escaped them has reported that they sail southward."

Grandon turned to the mojo of the boat crew.

"Remove all but two pairs of oars," he said, "and prepare to push off. I will sail southward. One man, only, will I take with me. Who would be the man?"

From the wounded Huba to the last of the seamen, all volunteered. After some deliberation, Grandon selected Kantar the Gunner as his companion.

"You will be needed in Reabon," he told Huba. "Go at once to the capital. Tell Vordeen to mobilize the army and double the coast guard and the guard on the Mernerum border. Tell him, also, to divide our war fleet into such sized squadrons as he deems advisable and assign patrol zones to each squadron so that no part of the Azpok Ocean nor any of its shore line will be left unsearched. Have these patrol fleets search every ship encountered, except those of Tyrhana, Adonijar and Olba. Farewell."

The seamen echoed Huba's cry of: "Farewell, Majesty," as Grandon leaped into the boat and seized the tiller. Kantar, already at the oars, struck out savagely as soon as the men who shoved them off had got beyond their depth, and a little later, the two raised the sail and tacked into the breeze, which had grown considerably stronger. The fog, too, was rising so that visibility became almost normal.

For most of the morning they zig-zagged southward; but presently the wind veered around, eliminating the necessity for tacking, and greatly accelerating their progress.

At noon each took a turn at the tiller, while the other ate his frugal lunch of dried mushrooms and smoked frella meat washed down with drafts of kova.

Kantar had just finished his lunch, and was closing the watertight container when with an exclamation of surprise, he suddenly leaned over the gunwale and scooped something from the surface of the water with his hand. It was an empty half of a spore pod, red inside and black outside.

"What have you there?" asked Grandon.

"A kerra pod," replied the gunner.

"And what, pray, is that?"

"The kerra, Majesty," replied the gunner, "is chewed almost universally by the toothless yellow pirates. Where there are kerra spore pods, one may be sure the Huitsenni have been. It is said that they are never willingly without a supply of this habit-forming narcotic, which they constantly mumble except when eating or sleeping. I think from the finding of this kerra pod, that we are on the right trail-that the Huitsenni have passed this way not so long ago."

"And do you think there is a possibility of our overtaking them today?"

"I believe, Sire, that there is. This little boat is one of the fleetest on the Azpok-and much swifter than the large ships of war used by the pirates in their raids. They had not long been away from camp when we arrived, so I look for their appearance on the horizon some time this afternoon if they consistently follow their southward course."

That afternoon, Grandon constantly strained his eyes toward the south, but saw only such marine monsters of the Azpok as rose to the top from time to time, or flew above the surface. There was a great variety of web-winged reptiles of diverse shapes and colors, some as small as sea-gulls, and other kinds and species up to the enormous ormf, whose wingspread was fully fifty feet from tip to tip, and whose great, saw-toothed beak with a pelican-like pouch beneath it was large enough to take in a full-grown man at a single snap. There was also a great profusion of large, white birds with hooked bills and red-tipped wings which, like the flying reptiles, dipped to the surface of the water from time to time for their prey, or dived beneath it, emerging there-from with squirming, wriggling fish or other marine inhabitants in their beaks.

One huge ormf circled above the little craft for several hours, and Kantar prepared to use his mattork in case of attack. But the monster evidently decided that the creatures in the boat were too dangerous for it to assail, and soared lazily away.

Although they did not sight the ships of the pirates that afternoon, Grandon was encouraged by seeing, from time to time, empty kerra pods on the water, which indicated that they were on the right trail.

"The ships of the accursed Huitsenni," said Kantar as darkness fell, "must be swifter than I thought, or we should have sighted them before this."

Scarcely had he spoken when a sparkle of dancing lights appeared just above the southern horizon.

"I see lights to the south," said Grandon. "What are they?"

"The ships of Huitsen," replied Kantar, excitedly. "Those are their mast lights. We will overtake them shortly, now."

"And can you tell which is the flagship?" asked Grandon. "It will probably be on the ship of the leader that Her Majesty is confined."

"I will be able to tell which is the flagship when we get closer," replied Kantar, "by her lights."

"Good. As soon as you can do so, steer for the flagship. Make no noise, and perhaps we can get aboard without being seen. If we can do that—"

His speech was suddenly interrupted by a terrific shock, as the little boat, traveling through the inky darkness in which naught was visible except the dancing mast lights of the pirates, suddenly rammed a huge, solid object, throwing both men into the bottom of the boat.

The impact was followed by a terrific roar, and the front end of the fishing boat was lifted out of the water as easily as if it had been a floating chip, while Grandon and Kantar unable to see what they had struck, clung to such solid objects as they could grasp and breathlessly awaited the next move of the unseen monster.

III. The Cunning of San Thoy

As San Thoy led Vernia to the cabin which had been assigned to her, his great round eyes, with their cat-like pupils, appraised her in a manner which made her fearful.

"Beauteous white princess," he said, when they were out of earshot of Thid Yet and the group of pirates surrounding him, "you are surrounded by enemies, yet San Thoy would be your friend."

Weighing his look and words for a moment, Vernia asked:

"Just what do you mean?"

The slit pupils of his eyes narrowed, and this did not escape the observation of the Princess as he replied:

"I mean what I say, Majesty, in all sincerity. For the great respect and admiration I bear his Majesty, your husband, I would befriend you."

"You know my husband?"

"Only through the echoes of his mighty exploits, which have penetrated even to Huitsen," he replied. "But one brave man admires another, and feels a certain kinship with him. For his sake as well as for your own, I would be of assistance to you."

"In what way?"

"If you will give me your full trust and co-operation, I can help you to escape. If not, you will shortly be sold into slavery to a human monster whose mistreatment of the women who fall into his lascivious clutches has made him notorious throughout the length and breadth of Zorovia."

"Who?"

"I am under orders not to divulge his name, but we of the Huitsenni were offered an enormous sum in treasure and slaves for your safe delivery to him. It was for this reason and no other that our Rogo decided to brave the anger of that mighty fighter, your husband, and send a fleet to capture you at the wild and lonely spot where the spies of this licentious potentate had ascertained that you were but indifferently guarded."

"It seems strange that this dissolute monarch, whose name I believe I can guess, did not send his own ruffians instead of employing the Huitsenni," said Vernia.

"He feared the power of Reabon," replied San Thoy. "Any evidence which his own men might have left as to their presence on Reabonian soil would have led to war and the inevitable dissolution of his empire. For who can stand against the mighty hosts of Reabon? But who could criticize his perfectly legal action were he to buy a beautiful white slave-girl from the Huitsenni? And even though she should maintain that she were the Torroga of Reabon, what weight has the word of a slave? A thousand beautiful slave-girls might make the same assertion for their own advantage and advancement, and he would be legally privileged to disbelieve them. The man who ordered your capture, Majesty, is as clever as he is lecherous."

Vernia, who was familiar with the international laws of Venus, knew full well that no man could be held responsible under those laws for purchasing a slave. She knew, also, that it would be difficult to establish the fact in an international court that he was cognizant of the identity of that slave, whose word would have no legal weight, and could be doubted by him with impunity.

"Just what," she asked, "is your price?"

"My price is but a trifle," he responded. "In fact, it is scarcely worth mentioning.'

"Name it."

"I should prefer to rescue you first."

They were standing before the door to the cabin to which he had led her, and which he had not yet unlocked. Suddenly both saw Thid Yet, Romojak of the fleet rounding a curve in the deck and coming toward them.

Quickly unlocking the door, San Thoy said:

"The Romojak comes. Go into your cabin, and I will call later."

Vernia stepped into a tiny cabin which contained a sleeping shelf that projected from the wall like the nest of a cave swallow, a small table, and a stool, both fastened to the floor. A ewer and a small bowl for washing were set in a niche in the wall.

As the door closed and the lock clicked behind her, she heard the approaching Thid Yet say:

"By what devious route did you take the prisoner to her cabin, San Thoy, that she but entered it?"

"I stood and talked to her for a moment, to cheer her," replied San Thoy humbly.

"To cheer her? Hal So this little beauty has aroused your libidinous fancy! But it was to be expected. Understand me, once and for all, San Thoy. This is no common slave-girl. Her ransom is the price of a mighty empire, and she must be delivered unharmed. Let me but suspect you, and you shall die-very slowly and very painfully-mojak though you be."

"You misapprehend, Excellency," protested San Thoy. "Because I have spent my hard earned treasure for a few slaves in the past, I pray you misjudge not my intentions toward this one. I was moved to pity for her, that was all."

"You pity? Pah! Into your cabin with you, and lay our course that we may reach Huitsen as soon as possible. And do not forget my warning."

A moment later, Vernia heard the door of the cabin which was next to hers, slam with unnecessary violence, and after laving her face and hands with scented water from the ewer, she lay down on her sleeping-shelf to rest, and to overcome the giddiness which the rocking of the ship was beginning to induce. But bad as were the qualms of seasickness, they were as nothing as compared to her mental anguish, for she felt that only a miracle could save her. Although she had never been deceived by San Thoy's protestations of friendship, she had been half ready to believe that an offer of treasure might win his help. But the words of the Romojak had thoroughly dissipated even that slim hope.

Late that afternoon, San Thoy himself brought her food and a bowl of kova. Because of her sea-sickness she could not eat the food, but she drank the hot, steaming kova. Shortly thereafter, she began to feel unaccountably drowsy, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

When she awakened, Vernia felt the craft beneath her lurching and pitching violently. She put out a hand for the light switch, but there was none. Instead, her hand encountered the wet gunwale of a small boat, in the bottom of which she was lying. She sat up, and the salt spray sprinkled her face. Far away, she saw a number of mast lights twinkling in the darkness. A short bulky figure loomed up before her.

"Who are you?" she asked in terror. "Where are you taking me?"

"Have no fear, Majesty" mouthed the figure. "It is San Thoy that has rescued you."

"You drugged me."

"For your own sake, Majesty. You might otherwise have made an outcry when I came to carry you off, thus arousing the ship and defeating your rescue."

"And you will take me back to Reabon at once?"

"In the morning. Tonight we must seek shelter. The surface of the Azpok swarms with fierce and mighty monsters, which by day seek their dark lairs in the ocean's depths. Night travel in a small boat is extremely dangerous. Hark! I hear the breakers now. The island is not far off."

Steering entirely by the sounds that came to him-for nothing was visible in the pitchy blackness-San Thoy brought the little sailboat through booming breakers which evidently covered a bar or sunken reef, and into comparatively calm water. It was not long after that the keel rasped on a gravelly shore.

Leaping into the shallow water, the pirate dragged the boat high up on the beach. Then he furled the sail, and taking Vernia by the hand said:

"Come. I will take you to a place where you may spend the night safely. In the morning, I will call for you and take you to Reabon."

"You will be well rewarded," replied Vernia. "I will double the ransom which was offered for me and add to it a thousand kantols of land, and purple of a nobleman for life."

"Your Majesty is generous," said San Thoy, "but then I have cut myself off from my own people, property, and position, in order to effect your rescue."

He led her up a narrow winding path, where leaves, dripping with the night dew, brushed her face and body. Presently they came to a small clearing.

San Thoy fumbled with a latch for a moment, and then opened a door. He released Vernia's hand, and struck a light with the small flame maker which he carried. When he had lighted a torch that hung from a bracket on the wall, Vernia saw that they were in a tiny cabin which contained a sleeping shelf, a crude table, three chairs, some utensils, and a place for cooking beside which fuel was piled.

"I will light the fire for you, that you may dry your clothing," said San Thoy. "Then I will brew kova."

Vernia seated herself on one of the chairs, and watched the broad, greasy back of the pirate as he squatted before the fire. When he had it blazing brightly, he took a kettle and went outside for water. Returning, he dropped in some kova roots which he found on a shelf beside the fireplace, and soon had it boiling. As Vernia watched, she wondered if his intentions were as magnanimous as he pretended, or if he were as perfidious as the words of his commander implied. So far, his impassive features had betrayed nothing. Only time would tell.

Presently, he placed a chair before the fire for her, that she might dry her clothes, and poured her a bowl of steaming kova. While she slowly sipped the hot, stimulating beverage, he tossed off bowl after bowl until the pot was empty and another had been set to brewing. She noticed that with each bowl, the slits in his round eyes became more bestial. San Thoy was drunk.

When the second pot of kova was ready, the pirate offered to refill Vernia's bowl, but she declined. He leered a little as he refilled his own, and it was not long before the second had gone the way of the first. Then San Thoy extracted a kerra pod from his belt pouch, and, breaking it open, emptied the red contents into his toothless mouth.

For a while he mumbled the drug, expectorating thin streams of scarlet juice into the fire from time to time, and muttering drunkenly to himself as they hissed among the hot embers.

Presently he arose, and unclasping a belt which held his tork, scarbo, and knife, hung it on a peg on the wall. Then he stretched his arms and yawned hideously, the red juice trickling from the corners of his flabby mouth, and staining his greasy chin.

"My dear," he said thickly, "it is time to retire. May your humble servant assist you to disrobe?"

With this he lurched unsteadily toward her.

Panic stricken, Vernia jumped up and placed the chair between herself and the advancing pirate.

"Back!" she said. "Go back! Don't you dare touch me!"

"There, there," he said, still advancing. "Do not be frightened. I will not hurt you."

Only the chair and two feet of space separated them now. Suddenly seizing the chair, he hurled it to one side and flung out both arms to grasp her. She leaped back, and his arms embraced empty air. But now she was cornered. She looked longingly at the weapons hanging on the peg, but between her and them was San Thoy.

Half crouching, arms spread, he advanced toward her. Suddenly he sprang like a beast of prey. Then like crushing bands of steel his greasy arms encircled her. His grinning, lecherous features were close to hers, leering down at her.

"Little she-marmelot!" he said. "Think you that you can resist San Thoy, who has subdued a thousand slave-girls?"

She struggled desperately, striking and clawing at the bestial face, squirming and kicking with all her strength, but to no avail.

With a laugh of exultation, he picked her up, and carrying her to the sleeping shelf, flung her down upon it.

IV. A Treacherous Shoal

THE MONSTER with which Grandon's fishing boat had collided in the darkness was evidently not of the belligerent type, for it submerged, nearly swamping them, before they attained an even keel.

But they were not yet out of danger. Kantar the Gunner suddenly called to Grandon that the boat had sprung a leak as a result of the collision, and was filling rapidly.

"Then steer for the ship in the center of the squadron, and let us hope that it's the flagship," said Grandon. "I'll row and bail. It's our only chance."

With the strong strokes of Grandon assisting the sail of the swift little vessel, they were able to gain rapidly on the ship which was at the apex of the wedge-shaped squadron. As they drew near it, Kantar called:

"It is the flagship, Majesty."

"Good. Preserve absolute silence from now on," replied Grandon. "If possible, we must get aboard her without being detected."

Presently they came close enough to hear the sounds of conversation and people moving about. Yet, their boat went unnoticed because the mast lights of the flagship cast little illumination in their direction. The powerful searchlight beams of the ship were directed ahead, as were those of the ships which flanked it on either side.

And they came up under the stern of the pirate vessel without attracting attention. By this time their boat was half-filled with water, and despite Grandon's bailing was likely to sink at any moment.

Hanging from two pulleys high above them were the two chains with which the rudder was turned from the steersman's cabin in the front of the ship.

"You climb one chain," directed Grandon, "while I go up the other. We are of nearly the same weight, so if we climb at the same time each will counter-balance the other, and the steersman may not notice anything amiss."

Leaping out onto the rudder, Grandon seized the chain on the side opposite them. At the same moment, Kantar grasped the chain next to the boat, and the two went up, hand over hand. Just as Kantar left the little boat, the gunwales went under, and before they had gotten half-way up the chains her masthead disappeared from view. They had reached the flagship just in time.

Together the two men went over the railing, each drawing his scarbo as he did so. A single watchman stood between them, but before he had time even to touch a weapon, a thrust from one side and a cut from the other, laid him low.

The two heaved the body overboard.

"Now," said Grandon grimly, "we'll search the ship."

But scarcely had the words left his mouth when there was a cry from the masthead.

"Enemies on board! Two tall strangers on the after deck. They have slain the guard."

The lookout leveled his tork at them, and a bullet splintered the deck between them. He continued to fire, but fortunately the light was not good. The two men quickly found a temporary refuge by dodging into an empty rear cabin.

"This is a trap," said Grandon. "We can't remain here."

"And yet it would make a good place to take a stand," replied Kantar.

But the decision was not left to them, for the door suddenly burst open, and a yellow pirate leaped in, yelling like a demon. In one hand he grasped a long, heavy knife, and in the other a scarbo which he sought to use.

Grandon quickly silenced him with a thrust to the throat, but his place was immediately taken by two more. Others pressed behind, eager for a chance at the intruders.

Grandon and Kantar, however, were a pair difficult to best with blades of any sort, and it was not long before the floor in front of them was piled high with bodies of their foes. But suddenly a voice called an order from without, and the men, in the thick of the battle, turned and withdrew without a sound, leaving the two alone in the room.

As Kantar turned with a questioning look in his eyes, Grandon saw a small glass globe hurled into the room. Crashing against the wall behind them, it shattered into a thousand tiny fragments. In a moment, Grandon was conscious of an intensely acrid odor. The room whirled. Kantar slid to the floor. The room whirled. Then blackness.

The effects of the gas in the tiny globe were evidently but momentary, for when Grandon once more recovered his senses he was being lifted from the cabin floor by two pirates. The dead bodies of their yellow opponents had been removed, and Kantar was being led out of the room, without his weapons, and with his hands tied behind his back. Grandon moved his arms, and found them securely fastened.

An officer in the uniform of a mojak ordered them brought forward and into a large cabin at the front of the ship. An officer whose uniform proclaimed him Romojak of the fleet was seated at a table, sipping kova.

"Whom have we here, San Thoy?" asked the Romojak, as the two prisoners were brought before him. "It appears that we have captured a royal prisoner, if the taller one rightfully wears the scarlet."

"He does, Excellency," replied San Thoy, "for I recognize him from his description as Grandon of Terra, Torrogo of Reabon."

"Small wonder, then, that our warriors were mowed down like frella grass at harvest," said the Romojak. "Few men can face him with a scarbo and live!" He arose and bowed to Grandon. "I am honored, Your Majesty," he said, "by your unexpected visit to my humble ship. Now that you are here, I trust that you and your warrior will remain as our guests."

"Who are you, you yellow knave?" demanded Grandon, "and what have you done with the Torroga of Reabon?"

The Romojak returned his haughty look.

"I am Thid Yet, Romojak of the Fleets of Huitsen," he answered with exaggerated deference, "and Your Imperial Majesty, of the Torroga of Reabon, I know absolutely nothing. If you seek her here, you have been misinformed as to her whereabouts."

"I see that you are as skilled in the art of lying as in that of abduction," said Grandon. "But listen to me. You Huitsenni have gone unpunished for many generations. You shall not escape this time. Whereas Huitsen is now an unsavory word, when the fleets of Reabon have done, it will be but a stinking memory-except on one condition."

"Your threats do not impress me but," said Thid Yet, "I will inquire the condition out of courtesy.

"That you immediately place my wife, my warrior, and myself safely back on Reabonian soil."

"I can only repeat," said Thid Yet, "that I know nothing whatever of the whereabouts of your wife. As for placing you and your soldier safely back upon Reabonian soil, we shall be delighted to do this for you. This, however, would entail some expense and no slight danger to us, and as you came aboard our ship unbidden, we feel that it is only fair that we should be reimbursed to the slight extent of, say, a hundred thousand white slaves, young and strong, and a million keds of gold."

"What! You asked the price of an empire to set us ashore," exclaimed Kantar, "and a hundred thousand slaves besides?"

"One does not set a Torrogo of Reabon ashore every day," replied Thid Yet with a toothless grin.

"Set my wife ashore with us, unharmed, and I will pay you two million keds of gold," said Grandon. "The second million is in lieu of the hundred thousand slaves, a commodity in which I do not care to traffic."

Thid Yet grinned again.

"I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to be our guests for an indefinite period of time. Show them to the guest chambers, San Thoy."

Grandon and Kantar were hustled out of the cabin, and along the deck to a hatchway leading into the hold. Down this they were lowered like freight, and each was seized by a grinning yellow buccaneer.

"To the guest chambers," ordered San Thoy, and strolled away.

The two new guards hustled the prisoners along a dimly lighted passageway, threw them with their hands still bound behind them, into a small, evil-smelling room, and closed and bolted the door after them.

Flung violently into the room, Grandon's head collided with one of the stalwart ribs which braced the ship's sides, dazing him momentarily. He was brought back to full consciousness by Kantar calling to him.

"Are you hurt Majesty?"

"A bit dazed," replied Grandon, "but I'll be all right in a moment. And you?"

"Only bruised a little."

"Then come over here and let me see if I can loose your bonds. We must get out some way and search the ship."

Soon the two men were seated on the damp, filthy floor, back to back, and Grandon was working desperately at the bonds which held Kantar's wrists. Opening the tight knots which the yellow sailors had tied would have been no easy task even with his eyes to guide him and his hands free. But he worked patiently, doggedly, until at length a knot was opened. Soon a second yielded, and Kantar, with an exclamation of relief, chafed his numbed wrists for a moment, then swiftly began the task of releasing Grandon's hands. This took less time, as the gunner could work with his hands in front of him.

When Grandon had restored the circulation to his wrists, he tried the door. It was of thick planking, and bolted so tightly that he could not budge it, but the planks, after having been fastened together, had evidently shrunk a little, as there were narrow cracks between them and on each side between door and frame.

Kantar examined the lock, and said:

"If I only had a knife I could lift that bolt and open the door."

"Unfortunately," replied Grandon, "we have no knife, nor have we anything which will answer for one. It is possible, however, that we can get the guard to open the door."

"How?"

"By pretending that one of us is killing the other. Dead prisoners are of no use to the Huitsenni. Let us first make believe that we are quarreling. You will lie on the floor with your hands behind you as if they were still bound. First we will quarrel, then you will thump on the floor with your hands and shout that you are being kicked to death. Let us try it."

Kantar accordingly took his place on the floor, while Grandon stood where he would be behind the door when it was opened, and looked out into the hallway. As soon as the guard approached, he raised his voice and began abusing Kantar with choice patoan epithets, accusing him of having gotten him into the scrape, and threatening to kill him then and there.

Kantar replied, apparently pleading for clemency, and Grandon saw the guard pause outside and listen with a broad grin on his face. But when Kantar began thumping on the floor with the palm of his hand and shouting that he was being killed, the expression on the guard's face grew serious, and he quickly opened the door.

Scarcely had he stepped inside when Grandon sprang. Seizing him from behind with a strangle hold, he jerked the guard backward, shutting off his wind. At the same time, Kantar stood up and quietly deprived him of his weapons.

"Close the door, Kantar, until we talk to this fellow," said Grandon.

"Now," said the Earth-man, when the gunner had complied, "we want to know where her Majesty of Reabon is imprisoned. If you go with us quietly and show us the place, you will live. If not, you will die. Nod your head if you agree."

The guard, whose voice was completely shut off, nodded weakly, and Grandon loosened the hold on his throat, permitting him to breathe once more.

"Give me the scarbo, Kantar," said Grandon, "and retain the tork and knife for yourself. Keep a good hold on the fellow's harness, and do not hesitate to use your knife if he makes one move to betray us."

"In such an event I will use it with great pleasure, Majesty," said Kantar grimly.

Carefully opening the door, Grandon peered out. There was no one in the hallway.

"Where is the other guard?" he asked their captive.

"He patrols the forward corridor, Majesty," replied the guard respectfully. "It is connected with this one by two smaller corridors that branch around the central hatchway. He does not come into this corridor except at my call."

"Good. Then lead us to the Princess by the safest route. And remember, if we are discovered through fault of yours, you die."

Thus admonished, the thoroughly cowed guard led them to a ladder which descended into the corridor from the side, and with Kantar gripping his harness with one hand and his keen knife with the other, softly ascended. They came on deck near the stern and quietly made their way forward, keeping in the shadow of the cabins in order not to be observed by the lookout at the masthead.

They had covered about half the distance to the forward cabin for which they were headed, when Grandon suddenly noticed a short, thick-set individual who had apparently just emerged from one of the cabins, carrying a bundle in his arms and hurrying toward one of the four small boats slung on this side of the craft.

After placing the bundle, which was nearly as long as himself, in the boat, the fellow, whom Grandon now recognized as San Thoy, climbed in himself and rapidly lowered the little craft to the water by means of the two ropes which passed through pulleys suspended on davits. He and his two companions flattened themselves against the cabin wall until the small boat had disappeared from view over the rail-then went forward once more.

Presently their conductor stopped before a door and whispered:

"This is her cabin."

While Kantar watched their guide, Grandon tried the cabin door, and finding it unlocked, stepped inside. By the rays of the tiny overhead light which illuminated the little room, he could see at a glance that it was deserted. His brow clouded, and it would have gone ill with the yellow man who had led him to this cabin had he not noticed something on the floor which glinted in the light. He picked it up, and recognized it instantly as one of the jewels from Vernia's coiffure.

Stepping out of the cabin once more, he seize the guard's shoulder in a grip of iron.

"She is not here," he said, sternly, and raised his scarbo as if he were about to lay the fellow's head open.

"Spare me, Majesty," implored the yellow man. "This was her cabin. I swear it."

"Then how do you explain her absence: Speak quickly if you would live?"

"I see it all, Majesty," said the guard suddenly. "We are too late!"

"Too late? What do you mean?"

"Your Majesty saw San Thoy with the bundle-San Thoy the debauched-who spends all his earnings for beautiful slave girls. He would dare much to possess the most beautiful woman of Zorovia."

"Then we will follow San Thoy," said Grandon, "and you will go with us. Perhaps you can give us an idea where he has gone. To the nearest boat, Kantar, and use your tork if the lookout sees us."

"He will not see us, Majesty," said the guard. "Of that I am sure, as San Thoy must have seen to it that he is either drugged or dead-probably the latter."

True to the prediction of the yellow guard, there was no alarm from the masthead, nor from any other part of the ship as they lowered the boat to the water and cast off. It was equipped with a small sail, which they raised as soon as the fleet was far enough away to make it improbable that it would be observed.

"Now," said Grandon, "which way do you think San Thoy sailed?"

"I can not be sure," replied the guard, "But the nearest land is the Island of the Valkars. It has a small cove, accessible in a small boat, where the Huitsenni often stop for fresh water, and where hey have erected a small but strong shelter into which they may retire if surprised by a large force of the terrible inhabitants of the place. It may be that he has gone to this shelter for the night, intending to embark for some safer place tomorrow."

"Can you guide us to it?"

"I can but try, Majesty. I am no navigator like San Thoy, who can probably win safely across the shoals into the cove without even the aid of a light. But the island is a large one, and I know the general direction. If I steer properly we should reach some part of its rugged coast in a short time."

"Then," said Kantar, grimly, "see that you steer properly if you would live to see tomorrow's light."

The mast lights of the fleet were twinkling faintly in the distance as the yellow man took the tiller, and swinging it around set his course. After taking the precaution of securing his prisoner's ankles with a piece of rope, Kantar sat down a short distance ahead of him and managed to sail, while Grandon kept watch in the front of the craft.

They had not traveled far before the boom of breakers sounded ahead.

"There is the Island of the Valkars," said the prisoner, "But I know not how to find the cove. If we should try to land anywhere else we would be almost certain either to be dashed to pieces on the rugged shore or sunk by the jagged teeth of one of the many hidden reefs which circle the island. If we do land in safety, we may be set upon in the darkness by the Valkars, and carried away to be devoured."

"What are these Valkars?" asked Grandon.

"I, who have sailed every ocean of Zorovia, have never seen creatures more horrible." said the yellow man. Endowed with human intelligence, they manufacture and use weapons and implements of metal, yet they are not human, nor even mammalian. They are amphibians. Twice we fought them off when we landed for water. I was a member of the landing party. Although we outnumbered them each time, we lost several men in each engagement. Some were torn to pieces and devoured before our eyes. Others of our slain and wounded were carried away.

"But that was not all. After our ship had left the island following the first engagement with the Valkars, those of our men who had been stabbed, cut, bitten, or scratched in the battle, though ever so slightly, began dying horrible deaths. Our mojak, who was wiser than most, had one of our Valkar prisoners slain, and according to an ancient custom, ordered every man who had received so much as a scratch to either drink a drop of its blood or eat a mouthful of its flesh. The men who complied with this order in time lived, but we did not know the reason until later.

"We took two captured Valkars to Huitsen, where they were examined by our most learned scientists. They found that these creatures secrete a venom from glands in their mouths, and before going into battle, smear their weapons and claws with it. In their blood, however, is a substance, a small quantity of which counteracts the effect of the venom. Because they were venomous, they apparently thought we were, also, and it was evidently for that reason that some of our men were torn to pieces on the battlefield and their fragments distributed among and devoured by our enemies."

While they were talking, Grandon had been straining his eyes into the darkness before them. Suddenly he exclaimed:

"I see a light dead ahead!"

"Then I have steered better than I could have hoped," said the yellow pirate, "for it must be the light from the cabin in the cove. We will be there shortly if we can pass through the shoals unscathed."

He set his course dead ahead, asking Grandon to watch the light and direct him, as he was unable to see it from the stern on account of the sail. This Grandon did, and was greatly mystified as he watched, for although the light had seemed to be not more than a mile away when he first saw it, and they continued to sail swiftly toward it, it did not increase in brightness or apparent nearness. It seemed to have an unnatural, phosphorescent gleam, also, that would scarcely be expected to come from a cabin light.

The breakers roared louder and louder as they progressed. Suddenly their hull glanced from a submerged rock, scraped a second, and smashed, head on, into a third. There was a rendering crash as the little craft swung half around, buffeted by the waves for a moment before a huge roller engulfed her.

Just beyond the treacherous shoal, two men struggled desperately in the boiling, seething water, in an effort to reach the shore. But the third had gone down, never to rise again.

V. The Toad People

PANTING HEAVILY from his exertions, San Thoy leaned gloatingly over Vernia, lying where he had thrown her on the sleeping shelf. But his look of exhultation suddenly turned to one of amazement. She had drawn back her feet and planted the heel in his solar plexus with such force that he staggered back across the little cabin, gasping for breath, until tripped by a chair and thrown to the floor.

She did not wait to see what he would do, but sprang to her feet and dashed out of the cabin. But San Thoy was unusually agile for a man of his rotund build, and she had not taken ten steps beyond the door of the cabin before he was up and after her.

Bounding off into the darkness with no sense of direction, and no thought in mind save that of escaping the pursuer from whose clutches she had just broken, Vernia suddenly became conscious of many pairs of gleaming eyes. Reflecting the light from the open door, they seemed to be looking at her from the surrounding darkness.

With a little scream of terror, she halted in her tracks, and San Thoy, uttering a cry of triumph, leaped forward to recapture her. But a keen barbed hook on the end of a long pole suddenly shot out from the darkness at his right, and as it pierced his shoulder, his shout of triumph became an agonized shriek. It jerked him backward, so that his feet flew from under him and he sat down with considerable violence.

At the same time, a heavy body came hurtling through the air and landed on two webbed feet in front of Vernia. It was about the height of a large man, and stood erect on two bowed legs with its toes turned so far outward that the two feet, with the heels together, were almost in line. The body was thick and heavy, and covered with scales in front. On the back and sides these scales were interspersed with huge bumps, which were also in evidence on the backs of the upper and lower limbs and on the head. The mouth was an enormous slit which reached nearly from ear to ear, armed with saw-like ridges of jaw bone in lieu of teeth. The eyes were large and set in bony sockets that protruded above the cheek bones. Like the feet, the hands were webbed and armed with sharp claws.

Thus the creature which stood before Vernia might have been nothing more than a very large and ferocious looking toad. But the fact that it carried weapons-a pole with a hook on the end like that which had impaled San Thoy, and a mace with a curved bill which hung by a thong from its wrist-and that it wore a belt in which a large knife was thrust, made it evident that this was no common toad. It was infinitely more formidable and terrible than a creature with the mind as well as the body of a toad could have been. Its use of weapons was evidence of an intelligence which was at least equal to that of the most primitive men.

The creature uttered a hoarse croaking cry, and threw a cold scaly arm around Vernia's waist, slinging her over its shoulder with an ease that bespoke enormous strength. After struggling desperately for a moment, she realized the futility of attempting to pit her strength against that of the monster, and lay still.

As if it had been a signal or a call, the sound made by her captor brought a score of the creatures circling around them, all armed like the first. The beast that had captured San Thoy unhooked him without any attention to his cries of anguish, and threw him, writhing and moaning, over its warty shoulder. Then the entire group, led by Vernia's captor, marched away.

As it was pitch dark after they left the vicinity of the lighted cabin, Vernia was unable to see where they were going. She judged, however, from the movements of her captor, that they were traversing some exceedingly rugged country. Presently, this gave way to marshy lowlands through which the toad men leaped and splashed, then to firmer ground covered with tall, coarse grass that brushed against Vernia as she was carried through it.

When the coming of the dawn made it possible for her to see, she found herself in the midst of a city of low, moss-covered mounds. In each of these mounds, a hole on the ground level, about three feet in diameter, served as a doorway, and from most of the doorways the huge inquiring eyes of the inhabitants peeped cautiously out at the prisoners as they were being brought in.

Many of the other creatures which were moving about the place paused to stare at Vernia, as if they had never seen any one of her race before. San Thoy, it appeared, was of a race which they had previously seen. At least he did not attract nearly so much attention.

A shallow, sluggish stream with muddy bottom meandered through the center of the village, and seated on its banks or partly submerged in its leisurely flowing water, a number of the creatures dozed languidly.

The adult creatures on the bank and in the water, Vernia noticed, were all females-smaller than the males, and if possible more hideous. But hopping and crawling around them, and swimming in the muddy water, were hundreds of youngsters, apparently newly hatched, and none over eight inches tall.

Her captor chancing to walk quite near the bank with her, Vernia saw, with some surprise, that the placidly dozing females were there for a purpose that of hatching their young; for she saw one of the large lumps on the back of the nearest female burst open, and an infant, after tumbling out into the mud, made straight for the water and dove in. Its mother paid no attention whatever to the incident, nor did she so much as turn to look at her offspring. Several other lumps on her back had already burst open, and she was waiting for the rest to do the same.

Presently her captor left the bank of the stream, and after threading many pathways between the numerous mounds, stopped before a mound which was much larger than any of the others and appeared to be in the very heart of the city. It had a number of entrances but her captor chose the largest, and stopping, walked through it into a large, domelike room which was lighted by a peculiar, phosphorescent radiance that gave everything a ghastly greenish tint. This peculiar light came from immense writhing glowworms suspended on chains overhead. The air of the place was filled with a musty stench, similar to that which Vernia had noticed outside, but here so strong as to be almost overpowering.

Her captor swung her down from his warty shoulders, and set her on her feet. Then she was whirled around to face a creature much more repulsive looking than the one that had captured her. It was squatting on the slimy cap of a gray toadstool set against the rear wall, staring at her with its goggling, gold-rimmed eyes. Its scaly hide draped its body in wrinkled folds, and there was about it a look of dried-up emaciation, as if it were very old and partly mummified.

One taloned hand held a huge mace with a curved bill. The other toyed with the hilt of a long, curved knife that hung from a massive chain girdling the monster's middle.

On either side of the fungoid throne occupied by the hideous creature was a yellow man of Huitsen, standing with folded arms in the attitude of a slave. These two pirates, captives of the toad people and evidently in attendance to the repulsive thing which seemed to be in authority, were quite filthy, and clothed in a few tattered rags which had once been garments. Both leered at the beautiful captive with their cat-like eyes, and grinned toothlessly.

After staring at her for fully five minutes, the squat monster on the toadstool rolled its gold rimmed eyes toward the yellow man who stood at its right, and emitted a rapid succession of hoarse, booming croaks.

Much to Vernia's surprise the man replied in a human approximation of the same sounds-evidently the language of the toad people. Then he addressed Vernia. "His Majesty wishes to know your name, and whence you came," he said in patoa.

Vernia raised her eyebrows: "His Majesty! Do you refer to that croaking monster?"

"I refer to Grunk, Rogo of the Valkars. On this island his wish is law. It will be wise for you to answer his question."

"Tell him that I am Vernia, Torroga of Reabon," she directed, "and that he will be richly rewarded if I am returned, unharmed, to my people."

For several minutes the toad ruler and the yellow man carried on a croaking conversation. Then the latter addressed Vernia once more.

"His Majesty knows nothing of rewards, nor is he concerned with them," said he. "It was difficult for me to convey the idea to him in the Valkar language, and even then it did not impress him. He is interested in you for one reason, and that is because you are the first human female his warriors have ever captured. A number of the Huitsenni, who stop at this island for fresh water, have been captured and enslaved from time to time by the toad people. As we are more skillful than they in mining and smelting metals and the manufacture of weapons, tools, chains, and ornaments, they set us at these tasks. They recognize, also that some of us have superior cunning, I, Hui Sen, and my brother, Lui Sen, are retained for that reason as counsellors for the rogo. We try to do our work well, for as long as we prove useful we will be kept alive. But if our work displeases Grunk, we will either be killed and eaten by the Valkars or fed to Sistabez."

"And who is Sistabez?"

"The deity of the Toad People. They think him a god, though he is only a snake-an immense serpent who must be at least a thousand years old, for he has outlived many generation of Valkars. As far back as Valkar tradition goes, Sistabez has lived in his cave in the mountainside, emerging at regular intervals when hungry. At such times living sacrifices are fed to him in order to keep him from raiding the village, which he has done several times when sacrifices were not brought promptly.

"Sometimes he devours but one victim. At other times he is not satisfied with less than three or four. When he is seen emerging from his cave, guards sound the alarm, and a victim is chained to a stake in his path. A second victim is chained farther down the pathway, and a third still farther. He may devour only the first, or perhaps the first and second, but sometimes he comes on and devours the third. If he turns back to his cave then, all is well. If not, a fourth victim is chained in his pathway. Never has he been known to devour more than four victims at one meal, but woe be to the Valkars if he becomes angry, for then he will wantonly slay hundreds before returning to his lair."

Once more, Hui Sen turned and deferentially addressed Grunk in the croaking language. For some time the Rogo of the Valkars made no reply, but continued to stare at Vernia with his round, gold-rimmed eyes. Then, apparently having come to some decision, he croaked an order to the yellow slave.

"His Majesty," said Hui Sen, "has decided to retain you alive that you may serve the purpose for which females were created, and thus multiply the number of his slaves. Later, he will make some mental tests among the slaves, to determine who shall be your mate."

Up to this moment, Vernia had desired to live, hoping in the face of despair that she might some day be restored to Grandon. But as the significance of Hui Sen's words sank into her brain, her one desire was for speedy death. The hilt of her captor's knife projected invitingly before her. Suddenly turning, she whipped it from the sheath and drew it back to plunge it into her bosom. But Lui Sen, standing beside the throne, while less talkative than his brother, was more observing, and the first to perceive her intention. With a cat-like spring he alighted in front of her, seized her wrist, and wrenched the knife from her grasp. Then the Rogo croaked an order, and Vernia's captor dragged her out of the hut.

She was led through the village of moss covered mounds, toward a large mound in the midst of an extensive enclosure, surrounded by a paling of metal bars and guarded by armed Valkars. After exchanging croaks with her conductor, one of the guards opened a gate and she was pushed into the enclosure. Here, several hundred Huitsenni slaves were at work, forging, sharpening, and polishing weapons for their batrachian masters under the supervision of armed Valkar overseers. The forges were hollowed stones in which were beds of live coals. The bellows were the lungs of huge Valkars, who blew through reed tubes which entered holes in the bottoms of the forges. The anvils were large, rounded stones, at which the yellow workers squatted as they hammered out hooks, mace heads, and knife blades.

The place was a bedlam-the clanking of metal, the roar of flames, the croaks of the overseers, and the chatter of the slaves. The floor of the enclosure was littered with filth and everywhere spattered with red kerra juice. The Valkars, though they did not use the narcotic themselves evidently believed that it made their human slaves more efficient, and kept them well supplied with the pods containing the red spores, which they mumbled from morning to night, and spat unbelievable quantities of reddened saliva all about them.

Other workers were sharpening the knife blades, hook points and barbs, and mace bills, with rough stones, and still others were polishing them with sand. The metal parts then went to the assemblers, where the knives and maces were fitted with wooden handles, and the hooks with long shafts.

Sickened by the squalor of the place and overwhelmed with horror at thought of the fate which Grunk, Rogo of the Valkars, planned for her, Vernia shrank back against the bars of the enclosure. The yellow ex-pirates seemed fully aware of Grunk's intentions with regard to her, and raised lascivious eyes from their work to drink in her beauty, the while they bandied coarse jests, and speculated as to who would be the lucky slave to draw this prize of feminine pulchritude for whom mighty emperors had contended in vain.

Quite near her, a group of Huitsenni was assembling knives, tossing them into a central pile when finished. With one of these in her possession, she could swiftly defeat the purpose of Grunk. It was only a few steps to the pile. Would they divine her purpose?

She decided that a circuitous route would be the least likely to make them suspicious. So she set off first in the opposite direction, pausing to watch various groups of workers as if greatly interested in what they were doing. The coarse jokes of each group subsided as she drew near each in turn. They were more than a little awed by the imminence of the Torroga of Reabon. And there were a number of egotistical creatures among them who strove to impress her with attempts at dignity and gentle bearing.

Last of all, she approached the group of workers surrounding the rapidly mounting pile of knives. Casually, she picked up one of the finished weapons as if to examine it. With a swift movement, she raised it aloft, poised above her breast.

A greasy yellow hand reached over her shoulder-seized her wrist and shook the knife from her grasp. Then a coarse laugh grated in her ear.

She spun around to face the filthy and ragged Hui Sen. Evidently he had been stealthily following her for some time.

"Come," he grinned toothlessly, retaining a tight grip on her wrist. "From now on you belong to me, for I am the Rogo's choice."

VI. The Deceptive Light

As GRANDON struggled in the seething water, he strove to look about him for some sign of Kantar the Gunner. But save for that phosphorescent luminescence which had lured them onto the rocks, all was blackness.

"Kantar!" he shouted. "Kantar! Where are you?"

A big roller caught him unawares. Part of it he inhaled. Strangling and choking, he endeavored to rid his tortured lungs of the smarting brine. All the time he was being carried swiftly toward that deceptive phosphorescence. The roar of the breakers grew deafening. He realized, then, that if Kantar had been within fifty feet of him when he shouted, he probably would not have heard his cry.

Presently his hands struck a sloping ledge of sharp coral. He drew himself up onto it, and stood erect. But a giant comber knocked him flat, cutting his hands, face, and body on the jagged coral. After that he crawled forward painfully. At length the coral was replaced by rugged bits of stone, and finally by a sharply slanting beach where jointed sawtoothed reeds grew among outcroppings of volcanic rock. For some time he rested on a slab of water-worn lava, panting heavily from his exertions. His cuts and scratches were rendered doubly painful by the salt water.

Presently he stood up. The phosphorescent light was not more than five hundred feet away, and it seemed to be slowly moving toward him in a rather erratic fashion. It lit up the waving reeds and brakish pools with a pale greenish white luminescence. As he watched, it stopped behind a clump of tall reeds.

Suddenly, between himself and the light he saw a human form sloshing through the pools. There was something familiar about the bedraggled figure, and he recognized the gunner.

"Kantar!" he shouted, running forward.

The figure splashed onward, unable to hear him because of the roar of the breakers. At a distance of a few feet he again shouted: "Kantar!" at the top of his voice.

The gunner turned.

"Majesty!" he exclaimed. "I had thought you drowned with that yellow pirate. Praise Thorth, you are alive!"

"We must find that but of the Huitsenni, quickly," said Grandon as he came up. "Have you any idea where to look for it?"

"Our guide said there would be a light," replied Kantar. "I was about to investigate this one."

"I saw it moving a moment ago," said Grandon. "I doubt that the cabin would be built in a salt marsh, or that a light in it would move about as this one has. Perhaps it is a light carried by one of the creatures the pirates called 'Valkars.' But it will do no harm to investigate."

Cautiously they crept forward through the marsh, bending down below the level of the waving reeds so that they would not be seen. Presently Kantar laid a hand on Grandon's, arm, and exclaimed: "I see it, Majesty! Why, it's an enormous worm!"

Looking through the place where the gunner had parted the reeds, the Earthman saw a fat, grub-like creature about five feet in length. Its entire body glowed with a greenish white light. Leisurely it moved among the reeds, browsing on the water plants that grew in the bottoms of the brakish pools.

Disturbed at its feeding by the sound, the creature reared its luminous head and spied them. Arching its neck, it gnashed its mandibles threateningly.

"I wonder if that thing would shine as brightly dead as alive," said Grandon. "If so, it would be useful to us."

For answer, Kantar elevated the muzzle of his tork, and pressing the firing button, deftly sprayed a line of the needlelike projectiles across the luminous throat.

Cut off as cleanly as if by a sword blade in the hands of an expert, the head fell from the body, which immediately began writhing and thrashing about in the rushes and shallow water.

"Neatly done, Gunner," commented Grandon. "Why the thing appears to be shining more than ever! Now for a couple of torches."

So saying, he whipped out his scarbo, and advancing to where the headless thing squirmed and floundered in the reeds, cut off two sections, each about a foot in length. Then, with two sharpened reeds which the thrust into the sections for handles, he made a pair of torches, each of which was capable of lighting up the terrain for at least fifty feet in every direction.

Grandon passed one torch to Kantar, and holding the other above his head, set off along the shore line in the hope of coming upon the cabin which their yellow prisoner bad described, and where he believed they would find Vernia in the power of the unscrupulous San Thoy. But though they traveled as swiftly as the rugged character of the shore line would permit for the rest of the night, morning dawned without their having reached their objective.

With his scarbo, Grandon speared a large, spiny fish, left by the ebbing tide in a small pool. They cooked a portion of it over a fire of dry reeds ignited by Grandon's flame maker. It was tough, bony, and rather tasteless, but a welcome meal, nevertheless, to the two hungry men.

As soon as they had breakfast, they set off once more along the shore line. Shortly thereafter, the character of the terrain underwent a decided change. The ground sloped upward, and instead of marsh behind them, there was now a belt of fern forest. And the flat beach gave way to rugged rock ledges, then towering cliffs, clothed to their very edges with tree ferns, bush ferns, and many creeping and climbing varieties, as well as a few species of cycads and other primitive types. Here there grew in abundance the large Zorovian water ferns, the ribs of which contain water, clear, cold, and sweet as any that may be found on Venus. They paused, and broke off enough fronds to assuage their thirst and fill their canteens. Then they pressed onward.

Soon they came, quite unexpectedly, upon a small natural harbor. The entrance was a narrow channel which zigzagged between tall cliffs, and the little inland bay, protected from wind and waves by this natural barrier, was as smooth as glass.

"This must be the cove described by our prisoner," said Grandon, excitedly. "The cabin should not be far off."

"I see it, Majesty," cried sharp-eyed gunner, "over near the center of the bay. It's partly hidden by the tree ferns."

"Sure enough! Come on."

Grandon led the way at so swift a pace now, that the tired gunner was sorely put to it to keep up with him. As they neared the cabin, the sight of the small boat which had been left there by San Thoy caused Grandon to hurry faster than ever, for he now felt positive that he should find Vernia and her captor in the cabin. But within less than a hundred feet of the cabin, he stopped suddenly.

"We must approach with caution, Gunner," he said. "The yellow beast is probably armed with a tork, and it wouldn't be healthy for us if he saw or heard us coming. Better go in from two different directions, too, so if he gets one of us the other will have a chance at him."

They separated accordingly, and circling the cabin, crept cautiously up to it from opposite directions. The first to reach the front of the little building, Grandon saw the door standing wide open. With drawn scarbo, he leaped through, then stopped in amazement, for a single glance around the room told him that it was deserted.

The gunner was only a few steps behind Grandon.

"Gone?" he asked.

"So it seems. But where?"

Hanging on a peg at one side of the room was a belt containing a scarbo, tork, and knife. Grandon's shoulder struck the hanging scarbo, and it clanked against the tork.

"What's this?" he exclaimed, lifting the belt from the peg. "Why, these are the weapons of San Thoy! His name is engraved on the belt buckle in patoan characters."

"I judge that he would not willingly have left without them."

"No, not willingly."

"Then who could have carried them off, and what has become of Her Majesty, your wife?"

"Who but the Valkars, those toad-like monsters that our prisoner described. We must find the trail. I'll take San Thoy's weapons and give the other scarbo to you. Then we'll both be fully armed."

Soon Grandon, who had learned his woodcraft from the Fighting Traveks, his fierce mountaineer subjects of Uxpo, and learned it well, discovered blood spots about a hundred feet from the door of the hut. And in the soft leaf mold were the small footprints of a woman, the large prints of a man, and the still larger tracks of webbed and clawed feet. Kantar who was born and bred in the mountain fastnesses of Uxpo, read the signs as quickly as did the Earth-man.

"She ran out here to escape the yellow pirate," he said.

"And both were carried off by the Valkars," finished Grandon. "Blood was spilled. I trust that it was not hers."

"It starts at the point where San Thoy was lifted off his feet."

"True enough. Let us hope for the best. And now to the trail."

It was not difficult for the two trained woodsmen to follow the well-marked trail of the toad people. It led them through the belt of thick fern forest that fringed the shore, and across a range of rugged and sparsely wooded hills, into a gloomy and treacherous swamp. Here Grandon, at almost the first step, sank into a quagmire up to his chin. It would speedily have closed over his head, had not Kantar been there to extend a helping hand. Even then, it was with the greatest difficulty that the gunner succeeded in drawing him out of the clinging, sticky mess.

After this misadventure, Grandon took more care where he stepped, quickly learning that a piece of ground which was safe for a web-footed Valkar might be extremely perilous for a man. He chafed at the delay occasioned by the necessity of testing each bit of soil before stepping on it, but was constrained by the obvious verity that if he did not travel with caution his travels would soon be terminated.

Nor was the treacherous footing the sole menace the swamp held for the two. They were constantly compelled to be on the lookout for venomous snakes which crawled across their pathway, and tremendous whistling serpents that dangled from tree limbs, waiting for unsuspecting victims on which to drop, then crush the life out of them with their immense muscular coils. In addition, they were compelled to avoid the huge saurians which made the morass their habitation. Some of these were herbivores, and harmless unless disturbed, but others, the mighty carnivores which fed on these and any other smaller bits of flesh that came their way, would make short work of them if they suspected this pair of tender, two-legged animals was crossing their feeding ground. Annoying, too, were the constant attacks of biting and stinging insect pests which buzzed in thick clouds about them.

Both men heaved a sigh of relief when they presently reached higher arid drier ground, for though the tall grass through which the path wound might harbor even more dangerous enemies than they had seen in the swamp, they were at least sure of their footing, and soon left the bulk of their insect tormentors behind.

They had traveled about a mile into this grassy savanna, when Grandon suddenly caught his companion by the arm.

"Quiet!" he said. "I hear something coming!"

Unmistakably there came to the ears of both the sound of someone or something speeding through the tall grass, then a shriek of pain or terror, and a hoarse booming croak.

"Come on," cried Grandon. "It sounds like a human being attacked by some fierce beast."

They had only taken a few steps in the direction of the sounds when there hove into view, running for his life, a short, bandy-legged yellow man. Although Grandon and Kantar had never seen a Valkar, both instantly identified the hideous, warty creature which followed in swift pursuit, from the description their former prisoner had given them. It was rapidly shortening the distance between itself and its shrieking quarry, and the long pole it carried, tipped with a barbed hook, was extended to transfix its victim.

Kantar elevated the muzzle of his tork.

"Don't shoot," warned Grandon. "The sound may betray us, and bring a horde of these creatures. You grab the yellow man, and I'll take the Valkar."

Whipping out his scarbo, the Earth-man accordingly crouched in the grass at one side of the part, while Kantar, similarly armed, concealed himself on the other side.

Just as he came opposite them, the fugitive was caught by the barbed hook. He uttered an agonized shriek as it pierced his arm. But before his pursuer could jerk him backward, Kantar's scarbo had cut through the shaft. And Grandon, blade in hand, had leaped at the Valkar.

Although he was taken by surprise, the toad man was remarkably quick. Dropping his useless shaft, he snatched his long knife from his belt, and raised it to parry the cut which Grandon aimed at his head. It turned the blade of the scarbo so that, in descending it only cut a small slice from the scaly shoulder. At the same instant, with lightning quickness, he struck the Earth-man with the mace in his left hand.

The blow took Grandon by surprise, and the hooked bill bit into his right shoulder, which he had instinctively raised to protect his face, inflicting a painful wound. With a croak of triumph the monster jerked the Earth-man toward him, intent on finishing him with the knife. But at that instant, Grandon drew back his lowered scarbo, then thrust upward with all his might. The blade, driven with terrific force, entered the silver-gay throat, and passing upward through the head, came out between the bulging eyes. With a hoarse death croak, the Valkar sank to the ground, kicking convulsively.

Kantar came running up, dragging his yellow prisoner, from whose arm he had extracted the barbed hook.

"Why, you are bleeding, Majesty!" he exclaimed.

"Only a flesh wound," replied Grandon. "I'll be all right." The gunner twisted the small cup from the top of his kova flask, and held it to the bleeding throat of the dying Valkar. In an instant it was filled with blood. He stood up and proffered the cup to Grandon.

"You must drink this quickly, Majesty," he said, "or your wound may prove fatal."

"What's the matter with you?" demanded the Earthman. "Have you gone crazy?"

"Drink quickly, I beg of you. It is the only antidote for the venom with which these monsters smear their weapons."

"Right. I had forgotten what our prisoner told us." He took the proffered cup, and with a wry face, drained it. The wounded yellow man whose wrist Kantar was holding, had meanwhile crouched down, and was lapping at the bleeding throat of the Valkar.

"Let me bind your wound, Majesty," said the gunner.

"No. It is not large, and will close itself. Meanwhile let us examine the prisoner." He glared at the diminutive yellow man, who now stood with bowed head, his wrist still clutched by Kantar. "Are you San Thoy?" he asked.

"No, Majesty," replied the prisoner, who, noting the scarlet of Grandon's attire was aware that he stood before royalty. "San Thoy is a great mojak, while I, as your Majesty may see by the remains of my raiment, am only a common sailor."

Your name, sailor."

"So Lan, Majesty, late of the ship, Sagana, of the Imperial Navy of Huitsen. I was captured by the Valkars three endirs ago with a dozen of my mates when we were sent ashore for fresh water. Today I escaped from the prison compound, but this Valkar hunter saw me, and would have slain me or taken me back a prisoner had not you come up."

"Saw you ought of San Thoy?"

"He, and a beautiful white princess, who some say was Vernia of Reabon, were brought in prisoners this morning."

"Where are they now?"

"The white princess was brought to the slave compound shortly before I made my escape. It was the attention she attracted, both from the slaves and the Valkars, which made it possible for me to get away undetected."

"And what do these Valkars intend to do with her? Hold her for ransom?"

No, Majesty. They care nothing for money, or any other things of great worth. But I heard that Grunk, their Rogo, who has never before captured a human female, planned to keep her for the purpose of breeding a race of slaves."

"Enough! Lead us at once to this compound. Perform your task faithfully, take me to a spot where I can set eyes on my wife, and you will be permitted to escape again. But remember, one sign of treachery, and you die."

"Your wife! Then you are the famed Grandon of Terra, the hero from the planet Mignor, who won the most beautiful woman on Zorovia!" He dropped to his knees, and with both hands extended, palms downward, pressed his forehead to the ground. "I do homage to so mighty a swordsman and so famed a ruler," he muttered.

"Up, and cease this mummery, or by the bones of Thorth, I'll split your head, and go on without a guide. Vernia of Reabon will take her own life rather than submit to the dictates of this reptilian rogo. As it is, we may be too late."

The pirate scrambled hastily to his feet.

"I'll guide you, Majesty, and quickly," he promised, "but we must circle the Valkar village to reach the compound. Otherwise we should not be permitted to go far."

He set off at once through the tall, rustling grass, with Grandon, scarbo in hand, just behind him, and Kantar bringing up the rear. After a short walk Grandon heard, only a little way ahead of them, the chatter of human conversation and the croaking of Valkars, punctuated by the sharp clanking of metal.

So Lan turned. "The compound is just ahead," he whispered. "Those are the sounds made by the metal workers and their overseers."

The three crept cautiously forward now. So Lan, parting the grass, pointed to an enclosure by a paling of metal bars, in the center of which was a large, moss-covered mound.

Grandon's heart gave a great bound as he saw Vernia standing beside a pile of knives. Then he cried out in anguish, and would have leaped forward had not Kantar detained him, as he saw her snatch the knife and attempt to plunge it into her bosom. But it was instantly shaken from her grasp by one of the yellow slaves who had grasped her wrist. Fortunately, Grandon's involuntary cry had not been heard over that bedlam of sound, and so the three men still crouched there, undetected.

"What are we to do now Majesty?" asked Kantar.

"I don't know, Gunner. Let me think-let me plan. A sudden rush and a shower of tork bullets might be best. And yet, it might mean the death of Vernia. We must try to think of a better scheme."

He turned to the yellow man who still crouched in the grass beside him. "You may go now, So Lan. You have earned your freedom."

"Your Majesty has saved the life of So Lan," replied the pirate, "and he is not ungrateful. Permit him to remain near you, that he may be of assistance in the rescue of Her Majesty, your wife."

"How? You are unarmed. But wait. Perhaps we can use you, for you could pass unnoticed among the slaves where one of us would be instantly detected."

"I but await Your Majesty's commands," replied So Lan, bowing low.

VII. Human Sacrifice

VERNIA STROVE To wrench her arm free, but she was helpless in the grip of the filthy and ragged Hui Sen. He grinned the hideous, toothless grin of the Huitsenni, and pushed a fresh quid of kerra spores into his cheek as he dragged her toward the gate.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

"First to the burrow of His Majesty, Grunk, Rogo of the Valkars, that he may give you his commands in person. Then, if he does not change his mind, which he sometimes does, but which I hope will not be the case in this instance, I will take you to my own burrow."

"Suppose that I should offer you the wealth and position of a prince-make you rich and powerful beyond your fondest dreams. Would you help me to escape?"

That would be impossible, Majesty. I am not so strong a swimmer that I could reach your country from here, and the Valkars would not give us time to build a boat."

"But there is a small sailboat, provisioned and ready, in the harbor where your boats stop for fresh water. If we could reach it and get away by night, surely you are enough of a navigator to sail it to Reabon. And what I promise, I will perform."

"We will speak of this later, Majesty," replied Hui Sen. "Just now I must take you before the Rogo." He entered into a short, croaking conversation with the Valkar guard at the gate, who then swung it open, permitting them to pass.

As they threaded their way between the moss-covered mounds toward the burrow of Grunk, Hui Sen looked cautiously about him as if fearful of being overheard, then said: "I cannot deny, Majesty, that the station and wealth of a prince would be a great temptation to me, for I have lived in squalor these many years. And while living thus, my only solace has been in dreams of splendor and power. But the risk would be tremendous. To pass the Valkar guards would not be easy. To cross the swamp without a Valkar guide would be next to impossible. Were it not for that swamp, my people would long ago have exterminated the Valkars. There is also the possibility that the boat might not be there, in which event the Valkars would be sure to find us, and I, at least, would be horribly punished. Added to these, and by far not the least of the considerations, would be the fact that I should lose you as my mate."

"On that score, at least, you may set yourself at rest," said Vernia. "Does the hahoe take the mate of the marmelot, or the awoo the mate of the ramph? Grandon of Terra is my mate, and sooner or later he will find this island, wipe the Valkars from the face of the planet, and all with them who have offered me indignity."

"Grandon of Terra will not find this place," said Hui Sen, confidently. "You cannot frighten me with his name, mighty as I know it to be."

"You will remember, also," continued Vernia, "that the mate of the marmelot is not without claws. I promise you that, if you offer me any indignity, I will slay you at the first opportunity, and myself, also. Sleeping or waking, your life will never be safe, if you drag me off to your stinking burrow."

"That I know you would do," replied Hui Sen, seemingly impressed, "for the women of Reabon were ever jealous of their honor. Night and day, I would always be on my guard, unless, perchance, you should learn to love me."

"Love you? Why, you greasy yellow beast! You unspeakable filth! Sooner would I love a warty Valkar." This was said with flashing eyes, and an imperious mien that humbled the yellow man.

"I mean no offense, Majesty," he whined. "Even a worm may look at a star with the hope that, inaccessible as it seems, it shines favorably upon him. But here we are at the burrow of the Rogo."

They were about to enter when Hui Sen halted and cocked his head to one side at the sound of a distant ululation, long drawn out, and exceedingly mournful.

"What was that?" asked Vernia.

"The cry of the guards," replied Hui Sen. "Sistabez, the great serpent, has come out of his cave."

The howling grew in volume as thousands of Valkar throats all over the village took it up. At this instant, Grunk, Rogo of the Valkars, emerged from his burrow, accompanied by Lui Sen and his two immense Valkar guards, both of which, with their noses elevated and their mouths open from ear to ear, were howling lustily. The din had now grown so loud that speech was impossible, but Grunk, after staring fixedly at Vernia and Hui Sen for a moment with his great, gold-rimmed eyes, made a sign that they should follow him, and strode off between the moss-covered mounds toward the place from which the howling had first come. Judging from the mob of Valkars, male and female, old and young which was heading in the same direction, it was evident that the entire village had turned out.

The hurrying, jostling crowd respectfully made way for the Rogo and his party, and they soon reached the edge of the village. Here a narrow path led up a rugged hillside, strewn with boulders and sparsely dotted with low-growing shrubs. At intervals of about a hundred feet along this path, heavy iron stakes had been driven into the ground.

To the farthest of these stakes, a luckless yellow slave had already been fastened. Another was being secured to the next stake, and two guards were marching a third up to the next.

Suddenly every voice was hushed, and Vernia saw an enormous and hideous head round a curve in the rugged hillside. It was about ten feet in length, and six in width at its broadest point tapering down to a square muzzle about two feet across. This massive head was reared on a thick neck fully four feet in diameter, to a height of about twenty feet above the ground. Behind it trailed a tremendous length of sinuous body. In color it was muddy green above, and the under scales were a greenish lemon-yellow.

Languidly, unhurriedly, the monster glided down the path, surveying the immense crowd of Valkars and yellow slaves before it with apparent indifference. Presently, as it came to the first slave that had been bound in its path, it paused, and leisurely arched its neck. The other two slaves had, meanwhile, been tethered and left to their fate. All three unfortunates struggled desperately, and cried out for mercy, but as the serpent poised over the first wretch, he ceased his struggles and importunities.

There was a quick, downward dart of that massive head, so swift that the eye could scarcely follow, and a single shriek from the victim as the immense jaws closed upon him, breaking his bonds like cobwebs. Then a significant lump slid down the serpent's throat to disappear in its tremendous coils.

Leisurely the snake crawled forward once more, seized and swallowed its next shrieking victim. It paused for a moment, but as it moved on toward the third victim, a fourth was quickly chained in its path.

"Sistabez is hungry today," Hui Sen said to Vernia.

The snake swallowed the third victim, and continued on toward the fourth.

"He is very hungry," said Hui Sen.

As it moved forward this time, the serpent's red forked tongue darted from its mouth, appearing and disappearing with the rapidity of lightning.

"He grows angry," cried Hui Sen, in alarm.

At this instant, Grunk turned and croaked something to two guards, who came toward Vernia.

"What did he say?" she asked Hui Sen.

"He said," replied that worthy, "that Sistabez was angry because he had withheld the fair white prisoner from him. He ordered the guards to tie you to the fifth stake."

With a sudden wrench, Vernia freed her wrist from the grasp of the yellow man, than turned to flee. But before she had taken ten steps the Valkar guards had her. The fourth victim shrieked his last as she was dragged to the stake and securely bound. The two guards retreated precipitately as the serpent advanced, this time traveling more swiftly than before, its tongue flashing like red forked lightning.

VIII. The Wrath of the Serpent

CROUCHING IN THE grass near the slave compound with Kantar and So Lan, Grandon saw the yellow slave who had prevented Vernia from taking her own life, lead her through the gate.

"Where is he taking her?" he asked So Lan.

"They walk toward the burrow of Grunk," replied So Lan. "I think she will be taken before the Rogo of the Valkars."

"And then?"

"Grunk will probably decide which of the slaves is to take her to his burrow."

"I believe so, Majesty. No alarm has been sounded, so I take it that I have not yet been missed. The Valkar that was pursuing me was a hunter I had encountered at some distance from the village."

"Very well. Suppose you-but wait! What is that howling sound?"

"The guards are warning the Valkars that Sistabez, the great serpent, has awakened, and is emerging from his den. No need to go into the village now, for everyone will attend the sacrifice."

"Sistabez?"

"A huge snake worshipped by the Valkars as a god. When he comes forth, they chain slaves in his pathway, in order that he may not raid the village. Naturally they value their own lives above those of their prisoners."

"And Vernia is a prisoner! Can you get us quickly to this place of sacrifice?"

"We will have to circle the village, Majesty. It will take quite a while."

Then hurry."

"This way." So Lan dashed off through the tall grass with Grandon and Kantar at his heels.

Before they had gone far, it was obvious to Grandon that the Valkars would reach the place of sacrifice long before they would. Fuming at the delay, he kept urging the little yellow man to his best paces, but though he was willing enough, his short legs would not carry him nearly so fast as the two impatient white men could travel.

The howling from the village was deafening for some time, but to Grandon's surprise, it suddenly ceased altogether.

"Sistabez has reached the place of sacrifice," panted So Lan. "The Valkars always quit their howling when he is ready to take his first victim."

Grandon, who could restrain his impatience no longer, now thrust his puffing and nearly exhausted guide out of the way, and dashed forward at top speed. He needed no guide a moment later, for the shriek of the snake's first victim rang in his ears. Closely followed by Kantar, he bounded straight toward that sound. A short time later he heard, much closer, the cry of the second victim, then, still closer, the third, and finally the fourth.

A moment later, he bounded out into the open space at the base of the hill, in front of which the Valkars had assembled. Vernia had just been bound to the stake, and the two Valkars who had tied her were fleeing for their lives as the great serpent advanced toward her.

"Try to keep the crowd back, Gunner," he shouted to Kantar as he whipped out his scarbo and sprinted for the stake. The two Valkars who had bound Vernia tried to stop him, but he elevated the muzzle of his tork, and sprayed them with needle-like bullets. One of them fell, gasping and kicking his last for Grandon had loaded the weapon with a clip of projectiles he had found in the belt pouch of San Thoy, which contained enough poison to kill a dozen men. He dispatched the other toad man with his scarbo.

A few swift strides carried him to Vernia's side, and two strokes of his scarbo freed her. She was so overcome by the ordeal through which she had just passed that she swooned, and would have fallen, had not Grandon sheathed his scarbo and caught her up in his arms.

All this took place in less than a minute, and during this time the tork of the gunner had been popping to good purpose as attested by the ring of fallen Valkars which had been bold enough to rush him. Now, as Grandon dashed back into the tall grass with Vernia in his arms, Kantar ran behind him to cover his retreat.

The serpent, meanwhile, had not shown any interest in these proceedings, but had crawled on past the stake to seize and swallow the two Valkars that still lay kicking on the ground.

"What kind of bullets are you using?" Grandon asked the gunner, as they plunged into the grass.

"Deadly," he replied.

"Put in a clip of solid bullets for a moment," directed Grandon, "and give the big snake a half dozen or so in the neck."

Kantar chuckled as he swiftly carried out the Earthman's instructions. "A good idea, Majesty," he said. "It will give the ugly toads something to do besides chasing us."

Kantar was the best marksman in the Reabonian army, either with a tork or mattork, and it was child's play for him to quickly place the bullets as he had been directed. The effect on the huge serpent was instantaneous. With its forked tongue playing so rapidly that the eye could scarcely follow, and an angry hissing sound that was almost like the roar of steam escaping from a locomotive, it coiled and struck again and again into the closely packed crowd of Valkars, a tremendous living engine of destruction. Before, it had only been satisfying its hunger. Now it was taking swift and horrible toll of those creatures which it believed responsible for its hurts.

With his own tork, Grandon, meanwhile, shot down a score of Valkars that had followed them, giving the gunner time to reload with the deadly projectiles. As they hurried forward once more, they were joined by So Lan, who had armed himself with a hook, mace, and knife taken from one of the fallen Valkars.

"Take care not to scratch yourself or anyone else with those weapons," warned Kantar, as they trotted through the grass. "We have no Valkar blood for an antidote, now.

"I have seen to that," replied So Lan. He raised the flap of his belt pouch, and disclosed a slice of still quivering flesh. "This will serve all of us if need arise."

It was evident that the Valkars were well occupied with their own troubles, as none appeared to molest them for some time. They soon found the path which led from the village to the swamp, and had followed this for about a mile, when Vernia, still in her husband's arms, recovered consciousness, and demanded to be set on her feet.

"I can carry you all the way to the boat, if need be," Grandon protested.

"No, Bob. You must save your strength, for we will have need of it. I can walk as well as any of you, now. Besides, your hands must be free to grasp your weapons. The Valkars may catch up with us at any time."

"I rather think they're pretty well occupied with their own troubles, right now. But try it for a while if you must. I can carry you again if you tire."

They set off at a fast walk, but had not gone far when Kantar, who was at the rear, softly called: "Majesty."

Grandon turned. "What is it?"

"Something following us. I see the grass waving."

"We'll make a stand," Grandon decided, "and give them a warm reception if they're Valkars."

A moment later, a short yellow man appeared in the pathway. He was followed by five more. Grandon recognized the leader as San Thoy, and whipping out his scarbo, advanced toward him, ignoring the others.

"So," he thundered, "you are the yellow filth who abducted my wife!"

San Thoy cringed, then dropped to his knees with right hand extended palm downward, as Grandon towered above him with upraised scarbo.

"No, no, Majesty! Spare me! There is a misunderstanding! I tried to rescue Her Majesty. We stopped at the cabin to wait for daylight, that I might take her to the Reabonian coast."

"Ah! Then you did not with your unwelcome advances, drive her forth into the night to be captured by the Valkars?" turned to Kantar. "Lend this rakehell of Huitsen your blade, Gunner, that I may settle accounts with him."

San Thoy quaked with fear.

"But I am no swordsman, Majesty," he whined, "to oppose the mightiest blade on Zorovia. It would be murder. Besides, as Thorth is my witness, I do not recall offering any affront to her Gracious Majesty. My head became so addled with kova that I did not know I had been wounded and captured by the Valkars until this morning."

"I perceive," said Grandon, contemptuously, "that you are a liar and a coward as well as a rogue. What shall I do with the vermin Gunner?"

"Strike off his head, sire, and leave his foul remains to the jungle scavengers."

"Right. It is the least that he deserves."

San Thoy cringed, expecting the death blow as Grandon raised his blade. But it did not fall, for at this moment Vernia caught his arm.

"Please, Bob, I can't let you do it," she said. "Spare him for my sake."

"It is for your sake that I would put an end to him," replied Grandon. "To permit him to live after-"

"Please. Remember Tholto, the marshman. You would have slain him for a similar offense, but spared him because I requested it. And he afterward saved my honor when I was in the power of Zanaloth of Mernerum. Later, he saved both our lives."

"True," replied Grandon, "But this vile creature is no more like Tholto than a Valkar is like me. Yet, because it is your request, I can not do otherwise than spare him." He spurned the groveling San Thoy with his foot. "Get up," he commanded, "and remember that you are indebted to the Torroga of Reabon for your worthless life."

"Then may we accompany Your Majesties through the swamp to the coast?" asked one of the escaped slaves who had come up with San Thoy. "We could not find the way, unaided, and we are not armed against the monsters we should be sure to encounter."

"We are not anxious for such company," replied Grandon, "but you may follow behind us."

They set off once more, Grandon leading, closely followed by Vernia, So Lan, and Kantar. At a respectful distance behind tramped San Thoy and his Band.

A short march took them to the treacherous swamp, where Grandon was able to make much better time than on his previous trip through it, by backtracking in his own footsteps. But their progress was slow at best, and it was not long before there came an imploring cry from San Thoy.

"The Valkars are coming! Give us aid! Save us!"

"They don't deserve it," said Grandon, "but after all, they are human beings, and unarmed and in danger. Bring your comrades forward, San Thoy," he called, "and you, Gunner, guard the rear. If you can't handle things, let me know, and I'll come back with you."

Kantar stood aside until San Thoy and his comrades had time to close in behind So Lan. Then he fell in behind the last man, and as they marched forward, glanced back from time to time to note the proximity of the enemy. He soon saw that the Valkars were gaining rapidly on them, and also that they were not keeping to the trail, but were spreading out in a crescent shaped line, evidently with the intention of surrounding them. After communicating this intelligence to Grandon, he began picking off with his tork such Valkars as came dangerously close.

Presently, when the dull-witted Valkars began to realize that to expose themselves to the gunner's deadly aim meant sure death, they took advantage of cover. This slowed them a bit, but still their pace was swifter than that of Grandon's party, as their webbed feet gave them considerable advantage in traveling over the swampy ground. Soon the two horns of their crescent caught up with Grandon, who began using his tork as frequently as Kantar, though with not quite such deadly precision. With sword or scarbo he had not met his equal on all Zorovia, but there was only one Kantar the Gunner, and Grandon, though an excellent shot, bowed to his uncanny skill with the weapon.

Between the two of them, Grandon and Kantar managed to keep their enemies at bay until they reached the more solid footing of the sparsely wooded hills. But in the meantime, the horns of the crescent had closed in front of them. On the firmer ground, however, their speed exceeded that of the Valkars, and since they no longer feared those behind them, but only those in front and at the sides, he changed his formation, massing the non-combatants in the center, while he and the gunner ranged on each side.

Only a few of the Valkars had succeeded in getting ahead of them, and these succumbed to the marksmanship of the two men. Then Grandon ordered a swift charge across the hill that confronted them, and beyond which was the thick fern forest that fringed the bay. When he reached the brow of the hill, he glanced back and saw that several hundred Valkars had already emerged from the swamp, while at least a thousand swarmed through the muck and water behind them. But the sight of this vast force did not dismay him, for he knew that his party could easily outrun them on the firm ground that lay ahead, and that they would have ample time to launch the little boat which San Thoy had moored near the cabin.

They dashed down the rugged hillside, and plunged into the fern forest, just as the front lines of their pursuers swept over the brow of the hill. But Grandon had scarcely taken fifty steps into the forest shadows, when a heavy body fell on his back from the branches above, knocking him to the ground. It was quickly followed by a half dozen more, and though the Earth-man managed to struggle to his feet, his arms were pinioned behind him, and his weapons taken away. He had led his party directly into an ambush of yellow pirates. Kantar, he observed, had been served in like manner.

Suddenly then, as if by magic, a whole army of Huitsenni appeared, stepping from behind tree trunks, bushes, and rocks, and dropping from the dense tangle of branches overhead. The little party was completely surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered.

Waddling toward-them through the ranks of the pirates, who respectfully made way for him, Grandon now recognized Thid Yet, Romojak of the Navies of Huitsen.

Thid Yet expectorated a red stream of kerra juice, and grinned toothlessly, as he bowed before Grandon and Vernia.

"I am gratified that we arrived in time to save Your Majesties from the Valkars," he said. "Guest chambers have been prepared for you and your warrior aboard my flagship." His eyes next fell on the cowering San Thoy. "So, traitor, we meet again. I doubt not that His Majesty of Huitsen will contrive exquisite tortures for you when he has heard the story of your perfidy. Seize him, men." His glance next fell on So Lan and the other unarmed yellow men who formed the balance of the party. "Who are you?" he asked.

"We are from various crews, Excellency, sent ashore for water, and captured in engagements with the Valkars, who held us as dives," replied So Lan.

"So? Then report to my mojo who will assign you to new berths."

At this moment, one of Thid Yet's aids ran up to announce that the Valkars were attacking in force.

"Tell the mattork crews to make a stand at the edge of the woods and mow them down without mercy," commanded Thid Yet. "These warty monsters need a lesson, and now is the time to read them one they will not soon forget."

As they marched toward the harbor, Grandon heard the rattle of mattork fire, which continued for several minutes. Then it suddenly stopped, and he concluded that the Valkars, seeing that they had run into an ambush, bad retreated. This he afterward learned was really the case.

They found the beach lined with the small boats of the Huitsenni, while the pirate fleet rode at anchor less than a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the cove. Grandon, Vernia, Kantar, and San Thoy were rowed to the flagship in the boat of Thid Yet. Back on the deck of the vessel once more, the Romojak gave swift orders.

"Return Her Majesty of Reabon to her former quarters, and keep her door constantly guarded," he told his mojo. "His Majesty, here, together with his warrior and our treacherous mojak, will have to be put in irons, and confined below decks. And keep two armed guards constantly before their door. They escaped too easily the last time."

Vernia was led away to her cabin, and the three men were fitted with thick metal collars, to which heavy chains were attached, linking them together. Then they were lowered down a hatchway, and marched along a corridor, to be thrust into a small and exceedingly filthy room. The door of heavy serali planks was barred, and Grandon heard two guards take their places before it.

Soon the anchors were hoisted and the sails unfurled. With the flagship in the lead, the fleet once more sailed southward.

IX. The Secret Gate

THE ROOM in which Grandon, Kantar, and San Thoy had been confined on the pirate ship was immediately below the deck, hence free from the bilge water which swished in the hold below, though not far from the offensive odor which arose from it. Light filtered down to them through the loosely fitted deck planking, and also shone through several small holes, each about two inches in diameter, which were bored high up in the ship's side, evidently to serve as loopholes through which torks might be fired. But they also acted, to some extent, as ventilators, making it possible for the prisoners to breathe the fresh sea air by pressing their noses to them, and admitting enough light to partly dispel the cheerless gloom of the humid and stuffy interior.

The chains with which the three men were fastened together by their metal collars, were about five feet in length, the gunner being in the middle, and Grandon and San Thoy at either end. After they had sniffed the fresh air for some time, the three sat down, as if by mutual consent, resting their backs against the rough wall.

"Well, Gunner, it looks as if Thid Yet has us in a tight place this time," said Grandon.

"We have been in tighter, Majesty," replied Kantar.

"True. But this arrangement presents a rather knotty problem. In the first place, there are two guards outside the door now instead of one. In the second place, the wily Romojak has chained us to that carrion," indicating San Thoy, "who will surely make an outcry if we attempt an escape. Of course we can throttle him, or dash his brains out against the wall, but it would be difficult to slay him so quietly that the guards outside the door would not hear, and at least suspect something amiss."

San Thoy shifted his quid of kerra spores and spat through a crack.

"May I remind Your Majesty," he said, "that I am as anxious to escape from Thid Yet as you? I am to be slain by slow torture upon my arrival in Huitsen."

"True," replied Grandon. "Perhaps you will be worthy of our confidence on that score, if on no other."

At this moment one of the guards opened the door to admit a menial from the galley. This greasy and profusely perspiring individual carried a tray on which were three large eating bowls and three smaller drinking bowls. These he set before the prisoners, and hastily withdrew, as if fearful that they might attack him.

When the door had closed behind him, San Thoy quickly rolled up his red quid and stuck it to the back of his left hand. Then with his right he dipped into his eating bowl, feeding greedily and from time to time taking copious drafts from his drinking bowl to wash down the food which he could only mumble.

Grandon examined the mixture in the bowl before him. It smelled savory enough, and upon tasting it, he found that it was a mixture of flaked fish and chopped mushrooms, stewed together in a sauce that was highly spiced and quite peppery. His drinking bowl contained freshly brewed kova, slightly weak, but palatable.

"Not bad for prison fare," he commented to the gunner, who he noticed had begun to make good progress with his meal.

"It's the one good thing about these yellow vermin which I am willing to concede. They can certainly cook," replied Kantar.

"We are fortunate in being imprisoned with royalty," said San Thoy, smacking his lips. "We should not otherwise be so well fed." His meal over, he deftly flipped the red quid from the back of his left hand into his toothless mouth, and resumed his mumbling.

For many days the three men were kept in their stuffy prison. They were fed three times a day, but otherwise saw nothing of their captors. By peering through the loopholes they could amuse themselves in the daytime by watching such birds, fish, and reptiles as came within their line of vision.

During this period, however, they had not been idle in attempting to find some way of escape. It was the gunner whose ingenuity devised the means for the first step in this direction. Although he had been disarmed, he had not been deprived of his small packet of tools, commonly carried by every man of his profession, which were for the purpose of taking apart and assembling mattorks that some times jammed or failed in other ways to work properly and smoothly. These tools, like those used by terrestial watchmakers, were small and fine, as the mechanisms on which they were used were extremely delicate.

He began on the lock which held Grandon's metal collar around his neck. The task seemed hopeless at first, for the Huitsenni were skilled in the fabrication of such things as fetters, weapons, and instruments of torture. But after many days of patient work, he eventually had the satisfaction of springing the clasp, making it possible for the Earth-man to remove his collar by simply bending it back on the hinge. Grandon then worked on the gunner's collar under his direction, and not being mechanically inclined, took considerable time in achieving the same favor for his henchman.

This done, Grandon suggested that the gunner open the lock on San Thoy's collar. The task did not please him, but he was too well trained a soldier to quarrel with the orders of his sovereign, and so carried out his distasteful duty without a murmur.

They had got this far with their plans for escape, and were considering what their next move should be, when Kantar, who had been standing with his eye to a loophole, suddenly informed the Earth-man that he saw land.

Grandon leaped to a hole beside him, and peered out. He saw that the ship was entering what appeared to be the narrow channel of a fiord. The rugged cliffs, sparsely clad in places with stunted conifers, towered to a tremendous height above the placid water, which calmly reflected their beetling frowns. Sharp commands and the creaking of pulleys were heard above them as the sails were lowered. Then oars rattled, and splashed into the water, thrust through the rowing holes beneath them.

San Thoy had told Grandon and Kantar that Huitsen, the capital city of the Huitsenni, could be reached from the sea only by way of a hidden passage through towering cliffs. If he had spoken truth, then this was the beginning of that passageway, and the time left to them for freeing themselves and Vernia, and attempting to escape, was short indeed. The pirate himself confirmed this a moment later, as he too sprang up to peer through a loophole.

"This is the way to the secret gate," he said. "Watch, and you will see how it is opened."

Grandon's first thought was that they must immediately attempt escape, for once in the notorious port of peril, this would undoubtedly prove impossible. Yet a rash attempt now seemed equally hopeless. He had counted on darkness as an ally, but it was yet mid-afternoon, and the probability was that the fleet would dock ere the black, moonless night of Venus should descend. He had expected to strike that very evening, when the cook's helper would bring them their repast. Leaving San Thoy to deal with the helper, he and the gunner had planned to spring upon the two guards who stood outside the door. Could the deed have been accomplished without great noise, the rest would not have been impracticable; for under cover of darkness it would have been possible to rescue Vernia from her cabin, steal a boat, and be off.

But now, it seemed, they must make new plans.

"How soon will we dock, San Thoy?" he asked.

"In a very short time now, Majesty," was the reply.

"Before dark?"

"Oh, long before."

Grandon pondered for a moment. Then he spoke to Kantar. "We'll have to think up a new scheme, Gunner. And when the time comes, we'll have to think fast."

"I will look for a sign from you when the time does come," replied Kantar.

"And I, also, Majesty," echoed San Thoy. Then he exclaimed: "See! They are opening the secret entrance!"

The channel had narrowed now, so much that it seemed the ship's oars would be shattered against the jagged cliffs. And straight ahead was what appeared to be a solid wall of rock, barring their further progress. Astounded, Grandon saw that a crooked crack extending medially from top to bottom was slowly widening as the two halves of the wall ahead, each of which must have weighed thousands of tons, moved apart and slid into the cliffs on each side.

The ship nosed through the opening and into a dark cavern. The lights flashed on, and revealed a stalactite-festooned ceiling over head, while the peaks of white stalagmites, projecting above the surface of the water, made it obvious that the floor of the cave had not always been flooded. Save for the gong which timed the strokes of the rowers, and the splashing of the oars, the place was as quiet as a tomb, its placid waters gleaming mirror-like ahead of the ship, and rippling in the spreading wake like molten jet shot with silver reflections.

Presently daylight appeared ahead, and the ship's lights were turned off. A moment later they emerged through a high, arched opening into a canal. The straight banks were lined with masonry, evidently to prevent the salt water from seeping through and spoiling the crops of edible mushrooms, food ferns, and kerra ferns which were cultivated in orderly fields on either side. Those who worked in these fields, San Thoy said, were slaves who represented most of the races and nationalities of Zorovia, some captured in coastal raids, but most taken from ships that had fallen prey to the yellow pirates.

Swiftly propelled by the lusty strokes of the rowers, and again aided by the bat-wing sails, which had been unfolded as soon as the cave mouth was left behind, the ship glided into a circular land-locked harbor, lined with docks built of serali wood and set on pilings of the same tough material.

Behind the docks were warehouses of white stone, and beyond these, at the far side, Grandon could see the conical roofs and upper structures of what appeared to be a large and populous city, principally composed of odd, hive-shaped buildings unlike anything he had ever seen or heard of, either on Earth or Venus.

Thousands of queer, bat-winged craft of the pirates were moored at the docks, and many more rode at anchor in the harbor. There were also a large number of merchant and fishing ships captured by the Huitsenni, and brought in as prizes. Some of these were undergoing alterations being fitted with the bat-wing sails, and otherwise converted for the use of the yellow men.

Still peering through his loophole, Grandon saw that the flagship was nearing the dock. Soon the long oars beneath him were drawn in, and ropes were cast to waiting Huitsenni, who made them fast.

From almost directly above Grandon's head, a gangplank was lowered striking the dock with a heavy thud. Down the plank walked Thid Yet, Romojak of the Navies of Huitsen, escorting Vernia. The princess looked deathly pale, but showed no other sign of fear. With her head held proudly erect, and graceful carriage, she showed only disdain for her squat, greasy captor, slouching along beside her. Behind them strode a guard of six pirates, drawn scarbos in their hands.

A great lumbering one-wheeled vehicle, its cab supported on an inner idling-wheel at its center, rumbled up to the dock. These vehicles were common everywhere on Zorovia, but the beasts that drew this one were not. Hitched, one before and one behind the great wheel, they were larger than Norman Horses, covered with long white curly hair of silky texture, and each armed with three twisted horns, one curving forward from the tip of the nose, and the other two arching above the eyes. Their ankles, also were armed with sharp bony spurs, projecting toward the front on the forelegs, and toward the back on the hind legs. Their hoofs were split into three sections, each of which was armed with a claw.

Thid Yet assisted Vernia to enter the vehicle, then clambered up after. The drivers shouted to their beasts, and the huge wheel lumbered away.

"Where are they taking her?" Grandon asked San Thoy.

"To the palace, no doubt," the yellow man replied, "where we, too, will be taken shortly."

"If my plan works I'll go to the palace, but not as a prisoner," Grandon told his two companions. "We will attain at least temporary liberty if you throw off your collars when I raise my right hand, then follow me."

Grandon saw the loot from his camp, and the weapons and accouterments of his Fighting Traveks, carried ashore. Then the door of their prison was flung open, and a self-important mojo, accompanied by four guards, all carrying their scarbos in their hands, ordered them out.

They were ushered up a companionway, and on reaching the deck, were forced into a line of yellow men who, laden with their loot, were hurrying ashore.

They had reached the center of the swaying gangplank when Grandon suddenly raised his right hand. Simultaneously, the three prisoners threw off the collars which their captors had, up until then, believed to be locked. Before they could act, the Earth-man had turned and dived into the water beneath, swiftly followed by his two companions.

X. The Port of Peril

CONFINED IN THE identical cabin from which she had shortly before been stolen by San Thoy, Vernia hoped against hope that Grandon would find some way to rescue her. But as the pirates sailed southward, day after day, and no word of any kind came from him hope began to fade.

Day and night, two armed guards were kept constantly before her door, the only exit from her cabin. At first she attempted to question them, but they would not answer. Then she tried quizzing the slave who brought her meals. He was ready enough to converse about her desires in the way of food, but when she tried interrogating him about Grandon or about their destination, he always professed ignorance.

Thus was her mind burdened with double anxiety-for fear that Grandon might be tortured or slain, and the certainly that each day was bringing her nearer to the lascivious monster who had bribed the Huitsenni to capture her. Although no mention of his name had passed the lips of any of the pirates in her presence she was positive that the instigator of the plot was none other than the pleasure-bloated tyrant, Zanaloth, Torrogo of Mernerum-Zanaloth, at the mere mention of whose name comely maidens would shudder, whose scarlet suite was notorious throughout all Zorovia, and whose subjects with sweethearts, sisters, daughters, or wives of more than ordinary beauty lived in constant dread that their loved ones might be summoned to the seraglio of the tyrant.

Her days she spent in gazing out through the small window of her cabin, her nights in restless turning and tossing upon her sleeping shelf. But a day came when the shutter of her window was closed so that she could not see out. Her cabin door, also, was locked. Evidently, she thought, something was about to take place on or near the ship which the Huitsenni did not wish her to see. A short time later she heard the noises of the bat-wing sails being lowered and the oars shipped.

For some time she heard only the sound of commands and the splashing of oars. Presently the oars were unshipped, and there was the grating shock of the vessel grinding its side against some solid object. Then came the tramp of many feet on the deck.

Shortly thereafter, her door was unlocked and flung open. Thid Yet stood before her. "Come," he said. "We have arrived in Huitsen."

In Huitsen! Then the reason for the closed shutter and locked door was apparent. They had not let her see the concealed entrance to this hidden lair of the yellow pirates because she would not be expected to remain here permanently-because she was to be sold into slavery outside the domains of the Huitsenni.

She stepped out of the cabin. There was nothing else for her to do. Thid Yet led her toward the gangplank, and a guard of six pirates fell in behind them. She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Grandon or Kantar. Concealing, as best she could, her disappointment at not seeing them, she walked across the plank with her captor.

The one-wheeled cart was no novelty to Vernia. She had seen many like it in her own country. But the fearsome, three-horned white beasts that were hitched to it were creatures she had never seen or heard of before.

"Zandars," said Thid Yet, noting her look of surprise. "They make strong beasts of burden and admirable chargers for our warriors to ride. We get them from the White Ibbits who inhabit the Mountains of Eternal Snow, far to the south. Let me help you."

The Romojak climbed in with her, and the heavy vehicle trundled away. The six guards trotted beside it, three on a side.

Traversing a narrow passageway between two stone warehouses, they emerged on a broad thoroughfare of heavy serali planking like that of which the dock was constructed. The hoofs of the zandars echoed hollowly as from a bridge, and the large single wheel of the cart made a sound much like the continuous rolling of thunder. This thoroughfare, like those which crossed it at various intervals, was lined with tall, hive-shaped buildings with oval windows and doorways. Like the warehouses, these buildings were of stone.

Yellow children, all of them naked and bald-headed scampered from in front of the vehicle and then paused to stare at them with their queer, cat-like eyes. Bald housewives, unclad save for short leathern aprons which depended from their ample waists, paused in their work to gaze at them through oval windows or from the doorsteps of their conical houses. Beside each doorstep, Vernia noticed that a hole had been cut in the planking, and many of the women held lines which hung down into these holes. She could not imagine what they were doing until one female suddenly jerked up a flopping, silvery scaled fish. She judged from this and the hollow sound of the planking that this section of the city was built over the inland sea.

There were few men about at this time of day, but those lolled against the houses or squatted on the doorsteps, squinting apathetically up at the passing vehicle. The entire hairless, toothless population, male and female from the tiniest child playing naked in the street to the oldest crone fishing beside her doorstep, mumbled kerra spores and expectorated enormous quantities of the red juice.

The vehicle rapidly drew near to a towering structure which would have made a hundred of any of the lesser buildings around it. Like them, however, it was hive-shaped, and built of stone.

They rumbled through an immense oval doorway and halted. Thid Yet clambered down, and assisted Vernia to alight. They were in an enclosed court onto which several oval doors opened. Each doorway was guarded by two soldiers.

"This is the palace of Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen," said Thid

Yet. "He has commanded that you be brought into his presence before we take you to our rendezvous with Zan-" He checked himself abruptly, and a look of vexation crossed his greasy features, as if he had unthinkingly mentioned some forbidden thing.

"Whether you finish the name or leave it unspoken does not matter," said Vernia. "I have known all along that the man who offered your Rogo such a fabulous sum for me that he dared the wrath of the mighty fighter who is my husband, and the power of unbeaten Reabon, to abduct me, could be none other than Zanaloth of Mernerum."

"After all, what does it matter, Zanaloth or another? You will know soon enough in any event. But come. His Majesty is expecting you, and may grow impatient."

Thid Yet conducted her through the nearest doorway, the six pirates falling in behind them, and the two guards saluting the Romojak as they entered. It led onto a gently sloping ramp which spiraled upward. The ramp was paved with black stone dotted with golden studs, which prevented the sandals of climbers from slipping as they ascended. At intervals of about fifty feet on either side were set ornate golden vessels, half filled with sand. Even had Thid Yet not utilized these freely on their way up, Vernia would have recognized their purpose by the fact that the sand was stained with spots of kerra juice.

After a considerable climb they came to a level passageway which led them to a large oval doorway hung with scarlet curtains and guarded by two yellow warriors. The guards saluted smartly at sight of the Romojak with his prisoner, and drew back the scarlet hangings.

Vernia was ushered into a circular room about two hundred feet in diameter, and so tremendously high that it had the appearance of a shaft, rather than a room. Its walls were of iridescent crystal blocks which reflected in many lovely hues the light that entered through four immense oval windows set in the top of the conical dome. At intervals of about fifteen feet it was circled by narrow balconies, the grille work of which was plated with gold and powdered with sparkling jewels. Behind the balconies many oval doorways led to apartments on the various levels. On these balconies were seated several hundred women and children, evidently members of the royal household. The floor was a single immense mirror which reflected every detail so clearly and faithfully that when Vernia looked down, it seemed that she was standing over a shaft of a depth equal to the height of the one which towered above her.

Vernia was led to the center of this magnificent hall where a circular divan, cut from a single block of clear crystal, supported a scarlet cushion at a height of about four feet above the floor. Squatting, crossed-legged, in the middle of this cushion was an extremely corpulent yellow man, who, except for the scarlet cincture about his loins, was clad entirely in jewelry jewels blazed from the rings which all but concealed his pudgy fingers and toes, and flashed from his golden anklets, bracelets, armlets, and necklaces. Two immense diamonds stretched the lobes of his ears almost to his shoulders, and a large ruby sparkled on each of his broad nostrils. His bald head was the only unadorned part of his anatomy, but shone as brightly as if it, too, had been burnished by the royal lapidary.

Behind the throne stood two muscular guards, each leaning on a huge, two handed scarbo that reached from the floor to his chin. And back of these in a semi-circle were ranged purple-clad nobles and courtiers, beside each of which stood a jar of sand. At each side of the throne stood six slave-girls. Two held golden, jewel-encrusted cuspidors which the one at the right or the left extended, depending on which way the monarch turned his head when he wished to expectorate. Other girls bore the trays of newly opened kerra pods, ready for chewing, and still others, jeweled cups and pots of kova which were kept hot by small aromatic oil-burning lamps burning beneath them. And a young girl, scarcely more than half-grown, held a bundle of scarlet napkins, with one of which she wiped the royal chins from time to time-there were four of them-then passed the soiled cloths to an attendant.

As Thid Yet came before the throne with his beautiful prisoner, he bowed low with right hand extended palm downward, the universal Zorovian salute to royalty. Then he humbly waited for the ruler to speak.

Vernia however, remained proudly erect, returning the appraising look of the creature on the throne with one of withering disdain.

Yin Yin Rogo of Huitsen, spat into the jeweled cuspidor tendered by the girl at his right, submitted to having his multiple chins wiped, and then turned his cat-like eyes on his Romojak.

"Are you positive that this slender beauty, just budded into womanhood, is the Torroga of Reabon?" he asked.

"I am positive, Majesty," the Romojak replied. "She answers every description, and wears the scarlet and insignia of her imperial house."

Yin Yin turned to a purple-clad noble who stood near at hand.

"Fetch the painting," he commanded.

The man sped away, and vanished through one of the numerous doorways to return a moment later followed by two slaves who bore a life size portrait of Vernia. She instantly recognized it as having been taken from one of her war vessels, all of which carried such paintings before which every sailor and officers bowed each morning in token of his loyalty and submission to his imperial ruler.

Yin Yin ordered the painting set up a little to one side then gazed alternately at the portrait and the living original who stood before him, for some time.

Presently he said: "It is indeed Vernia of Reabon, for she is, if anything, more beautiful than her picture. You have done well, Thid Yet. For this we reward you with a thousand kantols of land and a thousand keds of gold. We are just."

"Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen, is the fountainhead of justice," intoned the courtiers.

"May it please Your Majesty, I also captured her husband, the mighty fighter known as 'Grandon of Terra'," said Thid Yet proudly.

"So I have heard," replied the monarch. "For this deed we reward you with a hundred strong slaves to work your land. We are just."

"Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen, is the living source of justice," chorused the courtiers.

"I have heard, also," continued Yin Yin, "that Grandon of Terra has escaped."

Thid Yet looked dumfounded, but at this news Vernia's heart gave a great leap of joy.

"He escaped," the Rogo went on, "before he reached the dock. Hence you, and you alone, are responsible. For this carelessness we commend you to the expert offices of our headsman." One of the guards behind the throne here shouldered his great, two handed scarbo, and stepped forward, but the Rogo held up his hand. "Wait, Ez Bin," he commanded. "Be not so impetuous." He turned again to Thid Yet. "If you bring me not Grandon of Terra before ten days have passed, then submit your neck to Ez Bin. We are just but we are merciful."

"Both just and merciful is Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen," cried the courtiers.

The monarch moved a finger. Ez Bin returned to his post. He moved another finger. Two of the six guards who had followed Thid Yet and Vernia stepped up beside the Romojak. Then the three bowed low before the throne with right hands extended palms downward, and wheeling, left the room.

Yin Yin, meanwhile, refreshed himself with a cup of steaming kova, and stuffed his mouth with fresh kerra spores. He mumbled them for some time in silence, ogling Vernia the while, then spat, and said: "We do not wonder that a certain torrogo, who shall be nameless, offered us the price of an empire for you. You are more than worth it."

"I care not for your compliments, you yellow filth," retorted Vernia spiritedly.

"Nor we for your insults, my little beauty," replied Yin

Yin. "You are now but a chattel, a rather spirited chattel to be sure, a regular she-marmelot of a chattel, but we like you that way. We have subdued many such."

"To your everlasting dishonor, and their endless shame."

Yin Yin grinned. "That is a point on which you will find many who will disagree with you. We will not argue it. We never argue, for argument with us is always futile. It would be unfair for us to argue." He turned to the noble who had brought him the picture. "Let me see our contract with-with this nameless torrogo," he commanded.

"Name Zanaloth of Mernerum, or keep him nameless. It is all one to me," said Vernia.

"Who told you that?" he asked, sharply.

"You could never guess, and I shall never tell you," replied Vernia, defiantly.

"Ali well. It doesn't matter. You will know soon enough." He took a scroll which the noble extended to him, and perused it for some time. "Hum. It is as I thought. This contract says we shall meet him before the harbor of the Island of the Valkars, one ship of his and one of ours, on the morning of the fourteenth day of the ninth endir in the four thousand and tenth year of Thorth. He will have, on the day previous, landed the slaves and treasure on the island, where the fear of the Valkars will prevent the former attempting to escape beyond the lines of the few guards who will be left to defend them.

"When our commander has satisfied himself that the slaves and treasure agreed upon have been left on the island, he will deliver to the Torrogo of Mernerum, or his agent, the person of Her Imperial Majesty, Vernia of Reabon.

"It does not say `unharmed', nor is there anything in this contract to prevent our taking this Vernia of Reabon to be our handmaiden until such time as it may be necessary for her to sail for the rendezvous with Zanaloth."

He moved a finger, and two of the four guards who stood behind Vernia stepped up beside her.

"Take her to the seraglio," he commanded, "and tell Ufa to prepare her this night for the royal visit; for it may be that we will honor her with the light of our presence. We are generous."

"His Majesty, Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen, is most generous," chorused the courtiers, as Vernia her heart sinking within her, was led away.

XI. The Sea Rats

As SOON As Grandon's hands struck water, after he had dived from the gangplank, he turned them so that his momentum carried him underneath the dock. A moment later, his head bobbed to the surface, and he had the satisfaction of seeing that Kantar and San Thoy had followed his example, as both came up quite near him. From above came the rattle of tork fire, the bullets cutting into the water where the three fugitives had disappeared.

"You know this place," Grandon said to the yellow man. "Where can we hide?"

"First we must get behind the warehouse," replied San Thoy. "Follow me."

He struck out, and despite his portliness, proved to be an excellent swimmer. Grandon later learned that this was a racial and not an individual characteristic, as all Huitsenni, being reared on the water, swam fully as well as they walked, if not a shade better. Just now, however, he was sorely put to it to keep pace with the rotund pirate, while Kantar, the slowest of the three, trailed behind them.

San Thoy swiftly led them through a dark and narrow passage between two stone walls-the foundations of two warehouses. Above him, Grandon could hear shouts, curses, commands, and men running on the planking.

Once through the passage, the pirate waited for the others to come up with him. Here it was so murky that Grandon could barely see the faces of his companions.

"They will send boats and fast swimmers," whispered San Thoy, "but if we are quiet, it may be that we can elude them. It will soon be dark, and the darkness will be our ally. Follow closely behind me, and do not splash or talk."

Once more they set off, with the pirate in the lead. They were in a wilderness of posts, the piling that supported the planking of the street level, which was about fifteen feet above their heads. The rows of piles were broken at intervals of about fifty feet by the circular foundations of houses. Many of the fishing holes in front of these dwellings were open, admitting considerable daylight. And Grandon noticed that boats were moored in front of all of them, while deeply notched poles projecting down through the holes formed ladders by which they could be reached from above.

San Thoy, however, avoided the fronts of the houses with their fishing holes, and followed the lanes at the backs of the buildings, where it was so dark that objects were visible for only a few feet in any direction.

They had not gone far when it became obvious that a concerted pursuit had begun. Armed Huitsenni everywhere were swarming down the notched poles into the boats. Soon they were rowing about in all directions, flashing their lights, poking their oars into dark corners, and sending swimmers with knives gripped in their toothless gums, to explore the narrow places where the boats could not enter.

At first, it was not so difficult for San Thoy to avoid the searchers, but as they became more numerous his cunning was put more and more to the test. Time and again the three fugitives were compelled to hide behind pilings while boatloads of searchers passed within a few feet of them. Although he had no opportunity to question him, Grandon judged that he was making for some definite hiding place, because, despite the many twists and turns to which he was forced by their pursuers, he continued to lead his companions always in the same general direction.

Presently, however, the three came to a place where it seemed that they would be able to advance no farther. Completely surrounded by the man hunters, and likely to be spied at any moment, they took refuge in the dark shadows of a cluster of piling. Lights flashed all about them, and when the beams came uncomfortably close, they submerged until they had passed.

One by one, however, the boats gradually drew off, until but one remained. It contained two pirates, naked save for leather breech clouts. One of them, having flashed his light among the piles, nudged his companion and said something that Grandon and the two with him were unable to hear. But his actions were eloquent of his meaning, for the next moment he and his fellow, with long knives gripped in their mouths, slid into the water, and silently swam toward the place of refuge occupied by the fugitives.

So quietly had the pirates entered the water, and so noiselessly were they approaching the clump of piling, that had it not been for their light, which shown from the prow of the boat, the fugitives would not have been aware of their coming. As it was, they were warned, but it seemed that there was little they could do, as not one of them was armed. To stand and fight seemed foolhardy, and to attempt to escape, worse than useless, for by shouting, the two man-hunters could quickly draw hundreds of their companions to cut off their escape.

In this dilemma, Grandon, as was his wont, thought swiftly and acted with celerity. As he saw it, there was but one way out, and if that failed they were doomed. Accordingly, he whispered rapid instructions to his two companions and they took their places.

As the two pirates stealthily approached the clump of piles, they suddenly saw, directly in the path of the light from their boat, the face of San Thoy. He gave one frightened look at them, and turned, swimming rapidly in the opposite direction. With grunts of satisfaction, the two swimmers struck out after him, naturally taking the shortest and most direct route, which lay between two large posts about five feet apart. Their cat-like eyes gleamed with excitement of the chase. But just as they reached the space between the two large posts, two white arms shot out from behind them, and jerked the long knives from their mouths. Two keen blades flashed aloft, and swiftly descended. Two greasy corpses slipped from sight into the black depths.

Grandon and Kantar, treading water, thrust the blades into their belts as San Thoy returned, grinning broadly.

"Now," he said, "we can travel by boat."

The three fugitives quickly clambered aboard. The two six-pronged fishing spears lay along the gunwhale, and in back of the boat was a pile of nets.

Beneath these, Grandon and Kantar crept. San Thoy removed his insignia which proclaimed him a mojak of the Royal Navy, stripping himself down to his breech-clout. Then, looking much like one of the fishermen of Huitsen, he rowed away.

Grandon lay in the bottom of the boat beside Kantar, covered by nets which were eloquently redolent of recent contact with defunct fish, for what he judged to be about half an hour. Then San Thoy stopped, secured the boat to a pile, and lifting the nets, said: "Come. Follow me, and make no noise."

He let himself quietly into the water, and the two followed him. Grandon saw that they were not far from the rear of one of the conical houses, and that several other boats were moored nearby.

San Thoy led them to a point directly behind the house, and only a few feet from its circular stone walls. Then he said: "Grasp my belt, breathe deeply, and prepare to submerge."

With Grandon on one side and Kantar on the other, he then dived. Opening his eyes under water, 'Grandon saw a light glimmering some distance below them. They swam straight toward it. Soon they were in front of an oval door of thick glass framed with metal, and looking into a small chamber, beyond which was another similar door through which the light streamed. San Thoy seized a knocker which hung behind the door, and struck it three times. A face appeared, framed in the oval door beyond-the face of a yellow man. San Thoy signaled to him with one hand, whereupon he pulled a lever, and the door before them opened. Swiftly they were carried in by a sudden rush of water, and the door closed behind them. Now they were in a narrow chamber, completely filled with water. Grandon was growing air-hungry, desperately so, and he saw from Kanar's expression that he was in like case. But San Thoy did not appear in the least discommoded by holding his breath for so long.

The man behind the second door scrutinized the three for a moment, then exchanged several more signs with San Thoy, and pulled a second lever. At this, panels in the walls on both sides of them slid back, revealing a large screened opening, and the water receded so swiftly that both Grandon and Kantar, taken unawares, sprawled on the floor. They sprang to their feet, thankfully inhaling great lungfuls of the moist air. Then the inner door opened, and the man who stood beside it bade them enter.

They stepped inside, and as the guard closed the door after them, San Thoy addressed him.

"Greetings, warder and brother Chispok. Are the brothers in secret session?"

"They are in secret session, O mojak of the brotherhood," replied the yellow man.

Grandon was astounded to hear these two Huitsenni addressing each other as brother Chispoks; for he knew that a chispok was a large, scaly rodent inhabiting the sea shore or salt marshes, and spending a considerable share of its time in the water, literally a rat of the sea. It was a hideous creature, closely resembling its land cousin, the chipsa, and its name was formed from the two words, "chipsa" and "pok", the latter word meaning "the sea". Thus were formed the names "Azpok", or "Sea of Az," and "Ropok", or "Sea of Ro". To be called a chispa or a chispok in Reabon, or almost any other civilized country of Zorovia, was a deadly insult. But here were two men saluting each other as brother Chispoks, without offense.

San Thoy continued his conversation with the guard.

"I have brought two recruits for our just and sacred cause, who came from the far land of Reabon," said San Thoy. "Your name, brother warder?"

"Fo San, brother mojak."

"And I am San Thoy. These are Grandon of Terra, Rogo of Uxpo and Torrogo of Reabon; and Kantar the Gunner, a citizen of Uxpo."

Fo San, apparently noting Grandon's sodden and bedraggled scarlet cincture for the first time, bowed low with right hand extended palm downward.

"The humble warder of the Chispoks salutes Your Majesty, the glory of whose deeds of valor has penetrated even to this remote corner of the world," he said.

Grandon returned the salute, and he and the gunner were invited to seat themselves.

"According to the rules of the order, you must await me here," said San Thoy. "I will go and speak to the romojak of the order. I am mojak of a lodge at the other end of the city. In the meantime, refreshments will be brought to you."

He walked to an oval metal door at the other end of the chamber, and gave three sharp raps. It swung open, Viand before it closed behind him, Grandon heard him exchange greetings with a yellow man on the other side.

A few minutes later, a boy came in, carrying a tray on which were bowls of steaming kova, grilled fish, and stewed mushrooms. Grandon and Kantar did full justice to the refreshments. While they sat there, eating and drinking, two members of the order were admitted to the chamber, and passed through into the room beyond.

Shortly after they had eaten and drunk their fill, San Thoy returned.

"I have spoken to Han Lay, Romojak of the order," he said, "and he and the brethren of this lodge have consented to admit you to our order, or, if you are unwilling to become members of the Chispoks, to permit you to depart in peace as you came."

"What are the requirements?" asked Grandon.

"You are to do all in your power to assist in the overthrow of the present regime in Huitsen," said San Thoy. "You are further to make solemn oath that you will render assistance to any brother Chispok in danger, even as you would have him render assistance unto you."

"I can see no objections to these requirements," replied Grandon. "In fact, I rather like the idea of assisting to overthrow the present regime, which certainly has not conducted itself in a friendly manner toward me. What say you, Gunner?"

"I would gladly become a Chispok, or even a sneaking hahoe, did Your Majesty recommend it," replied Kantar.

"Then lead on," Grandon told San Thoy. "The sooner we can become Chispoks, and get down to the real business at hand, the better."

Once more San Thoy gave three sharp raps at the door. It was flung open by a bowing yellow man, and they found themselves in a short, narrow hallway. At the other end of this, a second door opened at the same signal, and they entered a circular room about twenty-five feet in diameter. Squatting on low stone benches around the wall were about sixty Huitsenni. A man, older and more corpulent than the others, sat cross-legged on a dais in the center of the room. San Thoy conducted his two companions before this individual, introducing Grandon and Kantar as he had in the antechamber, to Han Lay, remojak of the lodge.

Han Lay rose, and bowed low, before Grandon with right hand extended palm downward.

"The order of Chispoks is supremely honored," he said, "in that Your Imperial and Illustrious Majesty has consented to become one of us. We labor in a cause just now, which we have reason to believe is your own, and feel that with so mighty a fighter and so sagacious a general on our side, our cause is all but won."

"May I inquire to what cause you refer," asked Grandon, "and why you consider your cause my own?"

"We Chispoks have spies everywhere," replied Han Lay. "We are at present, endeavoring to overthrow Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen. Our spies inform us that he has not only kidnapped Her Majesty, your wife, for the purpose of selling her into slavery, but that, during the time she is to be kept in this city, he intends forcing her into his own seraglio."

"What!" Grandon's face went deathly pale, and upon his features there came a look which made even the brave Kantar feel anxious. Only twice before had he seen that look on the face of the Earth-man, and each time enemies had fallen before his flashing blade like frella grass at harvest.

"If you will but take me within sight of this filthy beast you call Yin Yin," said Grandon, "I will pierce his putrid heart, even though a thousand guardsmen surround him."

Han Lay grinned.

"That, Your Majesty, is precisely what we intend that you shall do," he said. "The Rogo of Huitsen is so strongly guarded that none of our assassins has been able to reach him, but we have every faith in your ability. When you have sworn the oaths of our order, the brothers will conduct you to the palace. Others will smuggle you into a chamber where, sooner or later, you will meet Yin Yin, face to face.

"Administer the oath quickly, then," replied Grandon, "that I may be on my way."

Kneeling, and with their right hands extended, palms downward, toward a small image of Thorth, which Han Lay held up before them, Grandon and Kantar swore the secret and terrible oath of the Chispoks.

The oath concluded, they arose, and the brethren crowded around them to extend fraternal greetings. But at this moment there came a sudden and unexpected interruption. One of the metal doors was thrown violently open, and a mojak with scarbo in hand and tork elevated to cover the group, burst into the room, followed by a horde of armed warriors.

The Chispoks were unarmed, save for their knives, hence at the mercy of the fully armed invaders, all of whom had torks and scarbos.

"You are all under arrest for treason against His Majesty, Yin Yin of Huitsen," proclaimed the mojak. "Throw down your knives and advance, one at a time, to have your wrists bound. Resist, and you are dead men."

Grandon noticed that Han Lay was edging toward a metal rod which projected through the floor of the dais. A moment later he stepped on it. There followed a sudden roar of rushing waters, which, in a brief instant engulfed both the Chispoks and the Rogo's men, and filled the room to the ceiling. Choking and strangling, Grandon was swept off his feet. Then his head collided with something hard and metallic, and he lost consciousness.

XII. In the Seraglio

AFTER THE Two guards led Vernia from the presence of Yin Yin, they conducted her through a series of hallways to a spiral ramp, which they forced her to climb to a height of what she judged to be about six stories above the floor level of the throne room. Here, after threading several more hallways, they came to a metal door, on either side of which stood a tall, thin yellow man leaning on an immense scarbo. These were the first thin Huitsenni she had ever seen, and the sight astounded her, for she had believed that all of them, both men and women, were short and corpulent.

As Vernia and her two guards came to a stop before the door, one of those who stood beside it tapped on its metal surface with the hilt of his huge scarbo. It was instantly flung open, and a yellow man, taller than those who stood beside the door, and so aged that his face was a network of wrinkles, stood before them. He wore the purple cincture, showing that he was of the nobility, and his accouterments blazed with jewels. Seeing that Vernia wore the scarlet of royalty, he bowed low with right hand extended palm downward. Then he addressed the guard on her left.

"Whom have we here, and what are the commands?"

"O, Ho Sen, Lord of the Seraglio, this is Vernia, Torroga of Reabon. It is the command of His Majesty that Ufa be instructed to prepare her this night for the royal visit, for it may be that our gracious sovereign will honor her with the light of his presence."

"His Majesty is merciful, just and generous, and we delight to do his bidding," responded Ho Sen. Then he clapped his hands, and two more tall, slender Huitsenni came forward. They took the place of the two warriors who stood beside her, and the latter turned and marched off down the hall.

"Enter, Your Majesty," Ho Sen invited with a ceremonious bow. The strangely angular creatures at Vernia's sides seized her arms to drag her forward. But she shook them off and entered, herself. There was nothing else to do. Then the metal door clanged shut behind her.

Ho Sen led the way across this room through another oval entrance, and down a hallway into an immense chamber two stories in height, and shaped like a crescent the far end of which was visible from where they stood. On the inner side of the crescent, numerous doors led out to little balconies which evidently overlooked the throne room, for Vernia could see the iridescent crystal walls of the immense shaft beyond. On the outer side of the crescent other doors led to sleeping apartments.

In the immense room were gathered no less than a thousand girls and young women. Among them were represented all the races of Zorovia with which Vernia was familiar, and several of which she had never heard. It was notable, too, that every girl, judged by the standards of her race, was beautiful.

Save for the tall, lean guards who stood at the doorways, and at regular intervals around the walls, there were no men present, and Vernia was beginning to suspect that even these were not men. Young slave girls padded softly about on the thick rugs, carrying trays of sweetmeats, pots and tiny bowls of kova, jars and bottles of cosmetics, combs, brushes, bangles, and such other feminine odds and ends as the pampered inmates of the seraglio required. Birds sang in gold and crystal cages that swung from the ceiling, and fountains splashed musically into limpid pools in which swam curious, brilliantly colored fish of many shapes and hues. In lieu of flowers, for such things are unknown on Zorovia, there were potted fungi of ornate shapes and rich shades, which filled the air with sweet, heavy perfume. These fungi, Vernia afterward learned, had been brought to their present state of perfection through careful selective breeding and crossing by hundreds of generations of skilled botanists. There were also many rare and beautiful varieties of ferns, cycads, and jointed grasses.

Many of the inmates lolled about on low divans, chatting, sipping kova, and nibbling at sweetmeats. Others were having their hair combed, their nails polished, or cosmetics applied by slave girls. A few were stringing beads or doing embroidery work, and the remainder strolled about the place or gathered in little groups, laughing and talking.

With a pompous dignity which showed that he took considerable pride in the grave responsibility reposed in him by the Rogo, Ho Sen picked his way among the divans ottomans, fountains, potted plants, and concubines, while Vernia, following with her two guards, felt as if on parade. It was plain to her that she was immediately the center toward which all eyes gravitated, as well as the subject of many remarks and discussions. The various members of this assorted aggregation of feminine pulchritude showed different reactions as Vernia, who was far more beautiful than any of them, passed. Some gazed in open admiration, some cast lowering glances that plainly denoted jealousy, others appeared coldly indifferent, and a small remainder, evidently mindful of the fate intended for her, looked sympathetic. Accustomed to being stared at, she passed among them with easy grace and quiet dignity, ignoring them as completely as if they had been so many articles of furniture. But she could not help overhearing what some of them said. Many exclaimed at her beauty. Others, the jealous ones, made spiteful remarks. And she heard one girl say: "Another princess, and as great a beauty as the first It seems that the Rogo has lately spread his nets for naught but royalty."

Having passed about half way around the crescent, Ho Sen led Vernia into a private suite, where a young girl sat having her hair done by an old and extremely ugly yellow woman. The girl, she noticed, wore the scarlet of royalty. She was small, shapely, black-haired and brown-eyed.

Ho Sen addressed the old woman.

"I bring another great lady for your ministrations, Ufa. She is Vernia, Torroga of Reabon. It is the will of His Majesty that she be prepared for the royal visit this night."

The old trot grinned. "We all love and obey our generous and gracious sovereign," she replied, "and Ufa will exert herself to the utmost that this damsel may be pleasing to his Majesty's eyes; though, in truth, her natural beauty makes the task an easy one."

Ho Sen went out, closing the door after him.

The old hag grinned hideously at Vernia.

"Be seated, my pretty one," she said, "until I have finished with my little white bird."

Vernia seated herself on a nearby divan, and a young slave girl brought her a steaming pot of kova and a tiny golden drinking bowl, which she placed near her on a small taboret. The girl who was having her hair done smiled and spoke to her.

"I am Narine of Tyrhana, Your Majesty," she said, "and, like you, a prisoner here. Shall we be friends? I've heard so much about your remarkable adventures, and your gallant husband, Grandon of Terra, that I feel as if I almost know you."

Vernia returned her friendly smile. "I who am friendless in this place," she replied, "would welcome the chance to acquire almost any friend, but in any case, I should be, glad for the friendship of the daughter of Ad of Tyrhana, comrade of my father on many of his adventurous hunting excursions, his staunch ally when seven great nations combined and sought to break the naval power of Reabon, and now the ally of my husband. You are the Torrogina?"

"No, I am but the Torrogini. My elder sister, Loralie, is the Crown Princess. Perhaps you have heard of her engagement to Zinlo, Torrogo of Olba."

"I have. He visited Grandon of Terra a short time ago, and told us about their romance, but he did not mention that she was the Torrogina. You know they both traveled to this planet from Mignor at the same time, Grandon alighting in Uxpo, and Zinlo, who on Mignor was known as Harry Thorne, in Olba. But tell me, how do you happen to be here? Can it be that some lascivious torrogo has offered the price of an empire for your abduction?"

"I think not, as I expect to be sold into slavery today to the Rogo of the White Ibbits a race of hairy barbarians who inhabit the Mountains of Eternal Snow near the south pole. It seems that Yin Yin buys large quantities of zandars from this savage chieftain, and that the latter has a weakness for comely virgins. Yin Yin has kept me here, unharmed, for the past ten days, for the sole reason that he believes I will bring him a tremendous price in zandars from this antarctic ruler.

"But you asked how I happened to be here. About an endir ago I left Tyrhana in one of my father's battleships to visit my cousin, Tinia, daughter of Aardvan of Adonijar. Three days out, a tremendous storm came up, carrying our masts and sails and more than half the crew overboard, destroying the steering apparatus and nearly filling the hold with water. In this helpless condition we drifted for many days. Then we sighted a fleet of pirate vessels. After a brief skirmish with the few warriors who were left behind on our ship, they boarded us and took all who remained alive prisoners. I was brought here, either to be sold or impressed into the seraglio of Yin Yin. He has seen fit to offer me to the barbarian for a fabulous number of zandars. I have sought to bribe Yin Yin to return me to my father, but he would not. Perhaps I can bribe the hairy chieftain. If not, why then I will die by my own hand, for the women of Tyrhana have ever preferred death to dishonor."

Vernia, in her turn, related what had befallen her since her capture by the Huitsenni.

In the meantime, Ufa finished with Narine's coiffure. Then she conducted Vernia into a magnificent bath of black and yellow marble where she bathed in scented water, and was massaged with aromatic oils by two slave girls under the supervision of the efficient Ufa. After this, another slave girl brought splendid garments suited to her rank, and helped her to dress.

Back in the boudoir, Vernia had her hair done by Ufa.

Presently Narine came in, and slave girls brought their evening meal. The repast was a sumptuous one, consisting of nearly a hundred tastily prepared dishes, from which they chose what they wanted. The napery was of scarlet silk, each piece embroidered with the coat of arms of the Rogo of Huitsen, and the service was of gold, similarly decked.

After they had dined, Ufa led them to another, larger room, the reception room of the suite, where a slave girl served them with kova. Then she departed, leaving them to their own devices.

With Ufa and the other slaves about, Vernia had kept the thought which was uppermost in her mind, escape, entirely out of the conversation. But now that she and Princess Narine were alone, she hoped that the Tyrhanian princess, having been in Huitsen for some time, might have acquired some knowledge which they could turn to their purpose.

"Don't you think," she said, as Narine filled her jeweled cup with steaming kova, "that you, with the wealth of Tyrhana behind you, could find someone in this palace, who, for a promise of vast riches, would smuggle us away in a small boat? Once at sea, we should be almost certain to encounter one of the many ships that must, by now, be searching for both of us."

Narine sipped her kova thoughtfully. "I have tried that," she replied, "and everywhere met with rebuffs. Every person I have tried to bribe has informed against me, and Yin Yin lost no time in letting me know that I was only wasting my breath."

"Can it be," asked Vernia, "that these people so love their tyrannous Rogo that not one of them would betray him for the wealth of an empire?"

"On the contrary," Narine replied "I believe that every subject, from the most exhalted noble to the lowest slave, fears and hates him. Yet no man dares speak his mind, for fear his fellow is a spy, or will turn informer to further his own ends."

"What of the man who has charge of the seraglio? Ho Sen, I believed they called him."

"The man, did you say?" Narine smiled. "Ho Sen is n9 man, but like these other angular creatures who stand about leaning on huge scarbos, is but a eunuch."

"A eunuch wearing the purple? That is strange. And I noticed that none of them were short and fat like the Huitsenni, although otherwise resembling them."

"They are all sons of slave women, mostly of the white races, so Ufa told me," Narine replied. "Some of them, I understand, are Yin Yin's own sons. Ho Sen is Yin Yin's uncle, though the Rogo does not acknowledge the relationship, and was granted the purple by Yin Yin's grandfather. He has been Lord of the Seraglio for three generations of royalty."

"Indeed! And does he love these yellow rulers who are the cause of his affliction and that of his fellows, so well that he could not be bribed to serve us?"

"I doubt that he loves his master any more than the others, yet I could not bribe him. I tried the first day I was brought here."

"Then there is no way we can help ourselves?"

"There is but one," replied Narine. "It is a desperate way, to be put into practice only as a last resort. But it is efficient. Look."

She twisted a blood-red jewel from a ring on her finger, and Vernia saw a few white crystals reposing in a tiny hollow beneath it.

"One of these crystals dissolved on the tongue brings death, sudden, sure, and painless," Narine told her. Then as she returned the jewel to its place, she said: "Yin Yin is careful to keep all weapons out of the seraglio with the exception of huge scarbos carried by the eunuchs. If he but knew the secret of this ring, then would my last hope indeed be gone."

"I, too, have managed to preserve the means to a quick way out, if worse comes to worst." Vernia drew a small, keen knife from beneath her garments and held it up. "This is from the belt of one of the guards who brought me to the seraglio. I managed to transfer it to these clothes after my bath, but it was difficult with the old hag and the slave girls watching."

Scarcely had she spoken, when there was a slight rustle of the hangings behind her. Then a fat, heavily jeweled hand reached over her shoulder and snatched the knife from her, and Yin Yin himself with a wheezy chuckle, waddled into the room. Still chuckling, and before she could prevent him, he seized Narine's slender wrist, and twisted the ring with the blood-red jewel from her finger. Then he dropped both articles into his belt pouch, poured himself a cup of kova, and sat down heavily.

"My, me!" he whispered, grinning toothlessly. "What desperate characters we have been entertaining unawares! Poison! Weapons! Bribery! I'm surprised. I'm astounded. I'm shocked."

He tossed off his kova and refilled the jeweled cup.

Narine said nothing, but there was a look of horror in her brown eyes.

Vernia, calm mistress of emotions, regarded him with regal hauteur. "I perceive," she said, addressing Narine, "that the Rogo of Huitsen has a multitude of low occupations. Not content with being a mere thief, robber, and defiler of womanhood, he is also that most contemptible of creatures, a spy."

Yin Yin set down his cup with a grunt of surprise, and his cat-like eyes narrowed. "Have a care, slave, how you speak of your master," he snarled, "or he may decide to have you whipped."

Still looking at Narine, Vernia replied. "Observe, Your Highness, how manly and chivalrous is the Rogo of Huitsen. Ah, what a different song he will sing when Grandon of Terra has him by the throat! He has a throat, I am sure, though it is concealed beneath his multiplicity of chins."

"It may be, Your Majesty," replied Narine, taking the cue, "that he has a throat but is ashamed of it."

"Or what is more likely, Your Highness," Vernia responded, "he is afraid some honest man will slit it."

Yin Yin, arrayed in all his finery, had come to play the lover. But the most ardent wooer can seldom withstand ridicule, and if he be short-tempered and accustomed to having his every wish regarded as law, it is more likely that anger will quickly crowd the gentler passions from his bosom. Knowing this, Vernia had deliberately set out to bait him. It was evident, at first, that she had succeeded even beyond her expectations, for the bloated face of the monarch grew livid. A greenish glitter came to his cat-like eyes, and he muttered horrible threats. But Yin Yin, although gross and sensual, was a master of intrigue and an adept in cunning. And not many moments elapsed before he saw through the ruse. Suddenly he ceased his muttering and began laughing uproariously-laughing until the tears coursed down his puffy cheeks. After all, was he not complete master of the situation? And mere words, no matter what their burden, could not injure him.

With a pudgy finger he wiped the tears from his cheeks. Then he gulped down his kova replaced the cup on the taboret, and shook that same fat finger at Vernia.

"Bones of Thorth, but you will be the death of me yet with your subtle humor," he wheezed. "A wittier pair of young ladies I have not seen in many a year-I who see thousands yearly, who come and go with the seasons."

From that moment on, he retained his good humor, nor could they with their keenest sallies or deepest insults penetrate the armor of jollity which he had assumed. A greasy, pleasure-bloated, jewel-bedizened monstrosity, he sat there, chuckling, boasting, and drinking cup after cup of steaming kova until the pot was empty and a slave girl was summoned with more.

The girl had just departed when there was the thunder of many hoofs on the planking of the street below. Yin Yin, with a maudlin smirk, addressed Narine. "If the Torrogini of Tyrhana will look over the balcony," he said, "it is possible that she will catch a glimpse of her future master. My ears tell me that Heg, Rogo of the Ibbits, has arrived with his savage riders, and ten thousand zandars for which I have offered to forego the pleasure of taming that little she-marmelot, the daughter of Ad of Tyrhana."

Both girls rushed to the nearest window, and stepping out on the balcony peered over. In the courtyard below them was an immense concourse of riders, mounted on zandars, wearing cloaks and hoods of zandar skins, and carrying long lances in their hands. But such lances! Each had about fifteen feet of stout wooden shaft, and a spiral head about two feet in length, connected to a globular metal knob. Vernia, herself a leader of warriors, was puzzled as to how these strange lances could be used, as it appeared that the spiral heads, instead of penetrating deeply when thrust at an enemy, would only spring back at the arm that drove them. The riders also carried scarbos and knives, but she saw no torks or evidence of firearms of any kind.

The faces and bodies of the riders were so muffled in their hoods and cloaks as to be invisible from above. The majority kept to their saddles, but about twenty of them dismounted and entered the palace. And looking out beyond the courtyard, Vernia saw by the light of the street lamps that an entire street, reaching from the palace to one of the city gates, was filled by an immense herd of milling, bellowing zandars, kept in formation by mounted Ibbits who prodded the recalcitrant beasts with the butts of their queer, spiral-pointed lances.

Turning away from the balcony, the two girls re-entered the room. Yin Yin, now evidently well under the influence of the kova he had consumed, was mumbling kerra spores and expectorating the red juice into one of the sand jars. His multiple chins stood much in need of the attentions of the royal chin-wiper, but he seemed too far gone in drink to notice this detail. He looked up suddenly as three sharp raps sounded at a side door.

"Come," he said, thickly.

Ho Sen, Lord of the Seraglio, entered, and bowed low with right hand extended palm downward.

"Your Majesty," he said, "Heg, Rogo of the Ibbits, has arrived, and awaits your pleasure at the outer door of the seraglio."

"Send him here by way of the single corridor, and see that two eunuchs attend him to this door," Yin Yin commanded. "There let him wait within call. It may be that this barbarian, when confronted with so much beauty at one time, will become difficult to manage."

"I hasten to obey," replied Ho Sen, with another bow and departed.

A few moments later the same door opened, and there entered a being who elicited from Vernia an involuntary gasp of amazement. With his hood of zandar thrown back and his great cloak of the same material caught at his shoulders, Heg, Rogo of the Ibbits, was a most remarkable sight. He was tall, towering head and shoulders above Yin Yin, and symmetrically built so far as human standards go, with the exception of his arms, which were not only tremendously muscled, but as long as those of an ape. His features, too, were regular, and his teeth even and white. Save for his scarlet cincture, and the gold and jewel studded straps which supported his knife and scarbo, he wore no clothing beneath his cloak, nor did he appear to need any. For his entire body, from head to foot, not excepting his whole face, was covered with short, white fur.

Yin Yin rose, as is the universal custom in Zorovia when royalty receives royalty, and the two exchanged salutations with right hands extended palms downward. Then he ceremoniously presented the savage chieftain to "Her Imperial Majesty, Vernia, Torroga of Reabon," and "Her Imperial Highness, Narine, Torrogini of Tyrhana," Neither Vernia nor Narine acknowledged the introduction, but this seemed to make no difference to the two rulers, who promptly seated themselves beside the taboret.

Yin Yin poured kova for himself and his guest, and they drank. Then he said: "Well, Heg, have you brought the zandars?"

"Aye, Yin Yin," was the reply. "Ten thousand of the most powerful and spirited beasts in my rogat are even now pawing the planks of your city in charge of my best herdsmen."

"You are satisfied with the bargain?"

Heg looked at Narine appraisingly. She shuddered under his gaze, but this did not seem to impress him. He had evidently seen many other maidens similarly frightened.

"I am quite satisfied, Yin Yin," he answered. "Come, look at the splendid zandars I have brought you, and see if you can find it in your heart to tell me that you are not pleased."

He rose, and led the way to the balcony, Yin Yin waddling after him.

"What think you of those beasts?" he asked. "And all for one little slave girl."

Yin Yin rubbed his pudgy hands together as the two turned away from the balcony and stepped back into the room. "They are indeed fine animals," he admitted, "and I declare myself satisfied, but speak not disparagingly of the little slave girl. Remember, she is the daughter of a mighty torrogo, and it cost me many men and much treasure to bring her here. Moreover, she has beauty far above the average."

"What of this other?" asked Heg, as they sat down once more beside the kova. "She also has great beauty, and I would buy her from you. In fact, each of these reaches the pinnacle of beauty for her type, the one brunette and the other blonde."

"Your r taste in feminine charms is admirable," said Yin Yin, "as well it may be, seeing the number of famous beauties you have had from me. But you have always stipulated maids, and she of the golden curls is the bride of a torrogo, as you may have surmised from her title."

"Maid or matron, I care not. For beauty such as hers, I will break my rule. Ten thousand zandars more will be yours magnificent as those I have brought you, in exchange for the golden-haired one."

"Nay, Heg. She is not for sale. All the zandars in your rogat, or all the countless millions that roam the antarctic wastes could not buy her, for she has already been sold for the value of a dozen kingdoms. It but remains for me to deliver her and collect my price."

But Heg was not easily turned from his purpose. Having seen Vernia, he meant to have her, arguing, threatening, pleading, and gradually increasing his offers, while the two drank cup after cup and pot after pot of kova. He at length avowed his willingness to fill all the streets of Huitsen, packed solidly to the doorways, with zandars, if Yin Yin would only sell him this delectable bit of femininity that, as he expressed it, he might turn at will from the dark beauty of the one to the blonde glory of the other.

Meanwhile the two girls, who had retired to a corner of the room, whispered together.

"Never in my wildest fancies," said Vernia "did I ever dream that I should become the subject of such haggling as this-to be sold, offered for sale, or bidden for, like a beast of burden."

"It all seems like a wild nightmare too horrible to be real," replied Narine. "Think of it! I have been sold by a greasy rodent to a fur-covered savage-I the daughter of Ad of Tyrhana! Oh that I had kept the secret of the ring intact! Now I fear that death will come too late to save my honor."

"My deepest regret is that I, too, betrayed my secret by displaying my knife. I could at least have had the pleasure of sheathing it in the foul heart of Yin Yin before employing it to still for ever the beating of my own. I have but one hope on which to lean and that is a slender one. Grandon of Terra is free somewhere in this city, or was when I last heard of him. Though he and Kantar the Gunner, his friend and warrior, were unarmed, they may have found a way to obtain weapons. If so, it will take more guards than Yin Yin possesses to keep them from the palace, for they must know that I have been brought here."

"It is indeed a slender hope," sighed Narine; "for even though your gallant husband could win his way to this place, there would be no way out. It would be but a death trap for all of us."

"In that case," Vernia replied, "I should die contented, for there would be hordes of enemies to accompany us into the great beyond and stand before the judgment throne of Thorth."

As the two Rogos reached an advanced state of inebriation, their haggling became louder and louder, until it appeared that a quarrel was imminent. Suddenly, the hand of the savage chieftain flew to the hilt of his scarbo, and he sprang to his feet, overturning a taboret. "Sell me this fair-haired beauty, and name your own price," he shouted, "but sell her to me you shall or by the blood of Thorth I'll slay you and take her for nothing."

Yin Yin looked at him in drunken wonderment for a moment, as if he could not believe his own eyes. Then he clapped his hands. Instantly the door through which the hairy one had come, flew open, and two eunuchs ran into the room, bared blades in their hands.

At this, Heg's bravado instantly subsided. Letting his furry hand drop from his hilt, he said: "What's this? You call the guard? I did but jest, my friend." "Your jest as you call it, has gone far enough," wheezed Yin Yin. "We will, however, let it pass as such, and so end the conference. Take your slave girl and be gone, for the torroga of Reabon and I would be alone." He turned his cat-like eyes on Vernia, and leered drunkenly. "Wouldn't we, my pretty?"

"It grows late, and I must indeed be going," replied Heg. Striding across the room, he suddenly seized Narine's wrist and jerked her to her feet. She screamed, and attempted to free her arm from his brutal grasp, but he only laughed at her struggles. "Come, my little beauty," he said, dragging her across the room. "We have outworn our welcome."

One of the eunuchs held the door open, and the other stood aside from them to pass out. Yin Yin, a kerra-stained grin on his porcine features, rose ponderously, and waddled unsteadily toward Vernia, drunkenly oblivious to her expression of fear and loathing.

XIII. Grandon Meets the Rogo

AFTER GRANDON struck his head and lost consciousness in the water-filled lodge room of the Chispoks, his senses returned slowly. At first it seemed that he was in a vast hall-that a gigantic figure was bending over him, shouting something which he could hear only as a faint sound in the distance, and that other immense figures were moving about the room.

But gradually, as he became more rational, the room and everything in it assumed their proper proportions. He saw that he was lying on a sleeping shelf in a room much smaller than that in which he had lost consciousness, and that the supposed giant was Kantar the Gunner, leaning over him. The other occupants of the room were Han Lay, San Thoy, and a half dozen Chispoks.

"Speak to me, Majesty," Kantar was saying. "Only let me know that you-"

"I'm all right, Gunner. Let me up." With the astounded and delighted Kantar's arm beneath his shoulders, he sat up. His head swam dizzily, but gradually it cleared. "Where are we?" he asked.

Han Lay, who had hurried to his bedside as soon as he saw him sit up, bowed and said: "Perhaps I can explain better than the warrior, Your Majesty. You recall that we were attacked by the Rogo's soldiers in the lodge room?"

"I remember that, and the flood afterward. Then I must have struck my head for all went black."

"I tried to help you," continued Han Lay, "but as you were not expecting the sudden rush of waters you were swept off your feet and carried away before I could reach you. Your head collided with the end of a doorway. All the Chispoks, of course, knew how to get out, for we had rehearsed it many times. San Thoy helped your warrior to escape through the secret door, and I dragged you out the same way. The last man out closed it."

"Then the Rogo's warriors did not escape?"

"Not one man. But of course it was necessary for us to destroy the building, for there will be an investigation, and we have other buildings similarly equipped. All this was prepared for in advance. The pulling of a lever in this house set off a tremendous charge of explosive which blew the place to atoms. We brought you here to my home, in my boat."

Grandon stood up to test the strength of his legs. Although the dizziness assailed him for a second time, he was able to stay on his feet.

"Permit me to thank you for saving my life," he said. "It may be that some day I shall find a way to repay you."

"You can best repay me by carrying out the plans we outlined before you took the oath of our fraternity."

"I'll gladly do that, and more," replied Grandon. "Give me my instructions, and let me start."

"You will have little to do until the brothers who will smuggle you into the palace bring you face to face with Yin Yin. If you succeed in slaying him and rescuing Her Majesty, your wife, the Chispoks will not only guarantee to help you escape from the palace by the way you entered, but will further promise to conduct you out of Huitsen and place you aboard a seaworthy craft on the Azpok, with provisions and water sufficient to last you until you reach the shores of your own land. Is this agreeable?"

"Perfectly," Grandon replied. "But I would be fair with you as you have been with us. What of the secret way into Huitsen which I and my warrior now know? Would you expect us to keep this secret from the rest of Zorovia, in spite of the relentless raids and acts of outlawry which will no doubt continue to be perpetrated by your people?"

"We have provided against that, also," replied Han Lay, "for we are aware that any one of the twelve great nations of Zorovia, knowing where we are, could easily wipe out Huitsen. However, permit me to point out that, even though you saw the secret passageway and how it was operated, you were not navigating the ship; hence you have no idea just where it is. You saw that the entrance was through a fiord, but there are countless thousands of fiords on this coast, many of which look like this one. All we will need to do will be to blindfold you and those who are to go with you until you are at sea and out of sight of land. The brothers will then direct you how to sail to reach your own country, but you will not be able to find our particular fiord again in many years of careful searching, unless it be by accident or unusual good luck.

"I might say, further, that in the event of the Chispoks succeeding to the point of taking over the government, piracy will be stopped, peace treaties will be signed with all the great nations of Zorovia, and Huitsen will be thrown open to the ships of the world. It was for this principle that the Chispoks were organized. The Huitsenni have been pirates for countless generations. Once our nation was as great and powerful as any on Zorovia, but now we are among the least of powers. Why? The Chispoks hold that commerce has made other nations greater than our own. By the very nature of our livelihood we are debarred from peaceful trading, or commerce of any kind with the exception of an occasional kidnapping for some lascivious ruler, infrequent ransom money for wealthy or influential people captured on the high seas and the little we can get for our plunder in trade and goods from these shady and grasping merchants who run the double risk of dealing with us-first because they fear we may betray them, and second because they may be apprehended and punished by their own people. Naturally they exact exorbitant profits, and our illgotten plunder never brings us a tenth of its real worth in exchange.

"The Chispoks are sick of piracy, of this secret slinking from the sight of other nations as the hahoe slinks from the path of the mighty marmelot. We are weary of the constant bloodshed which is a part of our trade. And it is our ambition to place Huitsen on a peaceful footing with all Zorovia, to turn our pirate vessels into merchantmen, to have our people received with friendship and good will whenever they set foot on a foreign shore."

"A worthy ambition, and I'll do all I can to further it," said Grandon.

"Good. And now do you feel strong enough to leave for the palace?"

"Perfectly."

Han Lay led Grandon and Kantar to his private arsenal, from which each selected a scarbo, knife tork and ammunition. When both were armed he walked with them to the door, and said: "The six brothers here will take you to the palace. They have instructions, and you may trust them implicitly."

Looking out, Grandon saw that the six Chispoks, attired as fishermen, were standing in a semicircle, which screened the door and the fishing hole beside it, from view.

"Crouch behind the men and descend the ladder," Han Lay said. "There are two boats moored. Each of you is to get into one and wrap himself in a fishing net. Farewell, and may Thorth guide and keep you."

Grandon did as directed, and Kantar followed close behind him. Scarcely had they established themselves in the boats, when three pseudo-fishermen descended into each, and rowed away.

Lying in the bottom of the boat, looking up through the meshes of the net, Grandon could see but little. The light from the street lamps shone faintly through the interstices in the planking above his head, and by means of it he could barely make out the outlines of piling and the foundations of the buildings they passed. At times the rowers saluted, and were saluted by the crews of other small fishing boats, but otherwise they maintained unbroken silence.

Presently Grandon saw an immense stone foundation looming ahead of them and stretching to the right and left farther than he could see, in so wide an arc that he knew it must be the base of some tremendous building. Then the prow of the boat in which he rode slid up on a low dock. A moment later he heard another prow grind up beside it. Then one of the pseudo-fishermen spoke.

"Greetings, thalput of the royal kitchens"

"Greetings, fishermen," was the reply. Have you brought the fish, as ordered?"

"The fish are here in the nets."

"Then bring them and follow me."

Still wrapped in the net, Grandon was swung up to the shoulders of the three men, who walked across a low dock and entered a large oval door. After following a dimly lighted passageway for some distance, they suddenly turned aside into a narrow doorway. A moment later, the other three strode in after them, and the door was softly closed. Grandon was set on his feet, and the folds of the net were unwound from his body. As soon as Kantar was similarly freed, the six fishermen took their nets and departed, closing the door after them.

They were in a tiny room, faintly lighted by a single dim bulb that shone from the center of the ceiling. The place had metal walls and was bare of furniture. No outlet was visible save the door through which they had come. But he who had been addressed as the kitchen thalput, pressed one of a row of studs, whereupon a panel slid back, revealing the bottom of a narrow spiral stairway, as dimly lighted as the room in which they stood.

"Follow me," he whispered, "and make no sound. Take care that your weapons do not clink against the walls."

As soon as Grandon and Kantar had stepped inside, the thalput pressed a stud, and the panel closed behind them. Then he led the way up the spiral stairway. At intervals of about fifteen feet thereafter, they passed sliding panels, above each of which was fastened a dim bulb. When they had reached the ninth panel, the thalput stopped before it. He pressed a stud, and the panel slid back, revealing a dark opening behind scarlet hangings. From behind these came the sound of spirited haggling. The thalput pressed a lower stud, and the panel slid back once more without a sound, shutting off the noise of voices beyond. Then he addressed Grandon:

"In yonder room," he said, "you will find Her Majesty, your wife, the Rogo of Huitsen, and the Rogo of the Ibbits. I gather from the conversation that the savage chieftain is trying to persuade Yin Yin to sell your wife to him. I leave you here to lay your plans as may seem best to you. If you succeed, you will find me at the foot of the steps, and the boats and fishermen will be ready to convey you hence: Farewell, brother Chispoks, and may Thorth guide your scarbos! Death to the tyrant!"

As the thalput began his descent of the stair, Grandon said: "My plans are made, Gunner, and I want you to carry out your part as ordered, without giving heed to what may follow. I will go in and engage those two drunken rogos in combat. It will be your part to rescue my wife while I am so doing. My positive instructions to you are that, no matter what odds I may have to fight, no matter if you see me fall and at the mercy of my enemies, you must not join in the fight. Instead bend every effort toward rescuing Her Majesty. Convey her down the stairway as soon as possible, and do not wait for me. Take one of the boats, and be off immediately, to the place of refuge which the Chispoks have prepared for us. If I live I will follow. If not, our chief object will have been accomplished-the rescue of my wife; and you will do your best to get her safely back to Reabon. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly. But to see Your Majesty go down and not-"

"What! I was under the impression that a soldier was with me."

"But, Majesty-'

"A soldier obeys orders implicitly."

"Yes, Majesty."

"You will so obey."

"I will so obey, Majesty."

"Good. Wait here until you hear the clash of blades. Then enter, and carry out your instructions to the letter."

"To the letter, Majesty."

Grandon pressed the upper stud and the panel slid open. A woman's scream and a man's voice saying: "Come my little beauty, we have outworn our welcome," spurred him to instant action. Leaping through the panel, he flung the scarlet hangings wide, and stepped into the room, bared blade in hand.

At a glance, he saw that he would have four swordsmen to contend with instead of two. One eunuch held a door open while another stood opposite him. A tall hairy fellow with a white fur cloak was dragging a pretty, brown-eyed girl toward the door. And the fat, greasy Rogo of Huitsen was waddling toward Vernia, grinning drunkenly.

At the sight of Grandon, Vernia cried: "Bob! My dearest I knew you would come!"

Yin Yin turned and whipped out his scarbo. Heg, Rogo of the Ibbits, dropped the arm of the brown-eyed girl, and also drew his blade, leaping toward Grandon. The two eunuchs caught up their heavy weapons and followed. There was a clash of steel on steel. Yin Yin parried once and struck once. Then his head flew from his shoulders, thudded to the floor, and rolled beneath the divan. For an instant the headless body stood there, blood spouting from the neck as from a fountain. Then it collapsed, a quivering mound of flabby flesh.

Grandon turned to face three blades. The brown-eyed princess, meanwhile, had run across the room to stand beside Vernia. Instead of waiting on guard, the Earth-man attacked with a brilliant display of that swordsmanship which had made him famous throughout all Zorovia. Before his fierce onslaught, the three gave way. His blade seemed to be everywhere at once, flashing with the speed of lightning.

Heg was disarmed, almost with the second slash he made at Grandon, his weapon flying behind a divan. But he leaped nimbly back, then drawing his knife, strove to encircle the Earth-man, evidently for the purpose of knifing him in the back. Grandon guessed his intention, but was now so beset by the two eunuchs with their long, two-handed scarbos, that he could give the hairy chieftain but scant attention. Once when he thought the savage Rogo was just behind him, he slashed back for an instant with his scarbo, but the blade encountered only empty air, and he came near having his head split open by the nearest eunuch. He stepped aside just in time, and as the heavy blade crashed to the floor, its wielder received a thrust in the throat and followed his master into the great beyond. With this fellow out of the way, Grandon quickly disposed of the other with a leg cut followed by a swift neck blow that sent the head of the slave to keep company with that of the master.

Whirling to face his furry enemy, Grandon was astounded to see that save for himself and three corpses, the room was deserted. He instantly came to the conclusion that Kantar had rescued both Vernia and the strange, black-haired princess. But what he wondered had become of this furry fellow from the antarctic? Puzzled, he was about to return to the panel opening when he heard a cry—the voice of Vernia.

"Bob! The window! Quickly!"

He leaped through the window, and peered over the balcony railing. Below him he saw the hairy chieftain dropping with ape-like agility from balcony to balcony, using one arm to swing himself down and holding Vernia with the other. The courtyard below was packed with furry warriors mounted on zandars. One saddled beast was being led to a point just under the lowest balcony.

Sheathing his bloody scarbo, and unmindful of the dizzy height, Grandon swung himself over the railing, and began dropping from balcony to balcony. But before he was half way down, the furry rogo was in the saddle, with Vernia, wrapped in a zandar cloak and swung across the bow. He gave a few swift orders, then galloped off. With the exception of one man, the entire cavalcade followed him. That man sat his mount beneath the lowest balcony, evidently left there to slay Grandon, for his long lance with its queer, corkscrew head was slightly pointed at the spot where the Earth-man would shortly alight.

XIV. Kantar's Blunder

ALTHOUGH KANTAR, as soon as he followed Grandon through the panel opening, saw that his sovereign was beset by overwhelming odds, and would have liked nothing better than to join in the swordplay, he was constrained by the strict orders which the Earth-man had given him. His part was to get Vernia out of the palace as quickly as possible.

Peering through the narrow slit between two hangings, he saw the headless yellow body with a scarlet cincture, which identified it as that of Yin Yin. Only a few inches in front of him he noticed a jeweled hand and a slim, white arm. It did not occur to him that there could be any woman other than Vernia in the room. But the thought did come to him that she would surely refuse to leave Grandon-that if he should urge her to go she would undoubtedly countermand the positive instructions which had been given to him. He decided to carry her off, and explain afterward.

He thought he could tell precisely where she stood by the position of her hand and arm, and acted accordingly. Suddenly jerking the silken hanging from the bar on which it was draped, he wrapped it around the slender figure, and turning, plunged through the panel opening. Then, carrying his precious burden in his arms, he dashed down the winding stairway. Muffled sounds of terror came from the bundle but he spoke reassuringly: "Be not afraid, Majesty. It is I, Kantar the Gunner. His Majesty ordered me to carry you hence quickly. Friends are waiting to help us out of the city."

The cries and struggles subsided and Kantar quickly reached the bottom of the stairway. Here he found the thalput waiting as he had promised.

"Is Yin Yin dead?" he asked.

"His head and body just parted company," replied Kantar. "Thorth be praised! The tyrant is no morel And his Majesty of Reabon?"

"Still fighting when I left. He ordered me to proceed without him, and said that on no account should I wait for him, but should take Her Majesty away from here at once."

"That scarcely comports with our plans, but he has earned the right to be obeyed by all Chispoks. And I'll be on the lookout to help him if he comes later. Follow me."

He opened the panel which led into the small metal-walled room, and there stood the six pseudo-fishermen with their nets. Swiftly they wrapped a net around Kantar's bundle, and another around the gunner. Then shouldering their burdens as before, they filed out into the passageway, the thalput at their heels.

Kantar heard someone coming, and wondered how the two full nets passing out of the palace would be explained. But the thalput was equal to the occasion.

"Take your stale fish and feed them to the ormfs," he cried in a loud voice, "and the next time you try to force such trash on the thalput of the royal kitchen, I'll see that His Majesty learns of it."

A moment later the two bundles were lowered into the boats, the rowers took their places, and the thalput pushed them off. For some time Kantar lay there looking up at the monotonous scenery of planking, piling, and stone foundations. They traversed a narrow passage between two stone walls, and shortly thereafter shot out under the sky. The gunner recognized the harbor of Huitsen.

A few strokes of the oars took them alongside an anchored boat about twenty-five feet long. It had a small, low cabin, and was fitted with two bat-wing sails. The two bundles were passed up to a stocky yellow man, who carried them, one at a time, into the cabin.

A dim light illuminated the little room, and as Kantar looked up at the man who deposited him there, he recognized San Thoy.

"Both of you must stay wrapped like this for some time," said the former mojak. "Where is Grandon of Terra?"

"Dead or alive, I know not," replied Kantar. "But he slew Yin Yin, and by his command I left him there, still fighting, to bring Her Majesty here."

"The fact that he slew Yin Yin places me doubly in his debt," said San Thoy. "We will wait here for him a while, but we must start in time to get out under cover of darkness, or I fear we shall not get on without him."

"I trust that you and Her Majesty will make yourselves as comfortable as possible while I go to keep watch on the deck. Under no circumstances must you make a noise or uncover yourselves. Yin Yin's warriors may board us at any time, and were they to discover our secret we should all die."

He went outside, and remained for some time in low conversation with the six men. Presently Kantar heard another boat come alongside, and scarcely dared to breath for fear it contained warriors.

There was the sound of some one coming up over the side, and whispering. Then San Thoy came into the cabin.

"It is useless to wait longer," he said. "A brother just came to inform us that Grandon of Terra is believed to have been carried off by the Ibbits; whether dead or alive, they know not. We will start."

"I'm sure that we will be carrying out his wishes by doing so," replied Kantar.

San Thoy went out on deck, and issued a few commands. The bat-wing sails were unfurled and the anchor hoisted. To accelerate their progress, for the wind was not strong here in the harbor, the men used oars, while San Thoy went forward to operate the steering device, which was shaped like an eight-pointed star with a knob on each point and suspended horizontally above the compass. The two rowboats in which the men had come were towed behind.

Presently Kantar knew by the disappearance of the breeze and the faint echoes which followed every sound, that they had entered the subterranean lake. A little later he heard a voice which seemed to come from above him.

"Ho, there. Who goes?"

"Gar Zin, the fisherman," replied San Thoy, "to catch a killer-norgal for the royal table."

"A moment, Gar Zin. It seems your voice has altered considerably. I'll just descend and have a closer look at you."

"As you please, Excellency," San Thoy replied with studied carelessness. "We'll have a bowl of kova in my cabin." He clapped his hands. "Ho, Lin Fan. Prepare kova in the cabin at once for His Excellency, Yin Fu, Guardian of the Gate."

One of the men hurried into the cabin. Peering through the meshes of his net, Kantar saw the man enter. But he did not approach the small fish-oil stove that was fastened to one wall. Instead, he crouched beside the door, a knife gleaming in his hand.

From outside came the squeak of pulleys and the thud of feet on the deck. Evidently some one had been lowered to the boat from a station high above it.

"Welcome to my humble ship, Excellency," said San Thoy.

"Umph. It is as I thought. You are not Gar Zin, my old friend. Who are you, and what are you up to?"

San Thoy assumed a confidential tone. "Shh! Not so loud, Excellency. Private business for his Majesty. Come into the cabin and we'll discuss it over a bowl of kova."

"I'll come into the cabin, right enough, but I want none of your kova. Lead on."

After you, Excellency."

"I said, lead on!" There was the sound of a scarbo being whipped from its sheath. "I'll keep this point at your back, and at the first sign of treachery, you die."

"As you wish, Excellency." San Thoy's tone was exceedingly humble.

Peering through the meshes, Kantar saw San Thoy enter the cabin, followed by a large yellow man who wore the purple cloak and shining helmet of conical shape. In his hand he carried a scarbo, the point of which was directed at San Thoy's back.

Just as Yin Fu stepped through the door San Thoy threw himself face downward on the floor. At the same moment, a knife flashed from beside the door, and the guardian of the gate collapsed with a grunt of anguish.

San Thoy leaped to his feet. For a moment he bent and held his hand over the heart of the fallen noble. Then he removed the purple cloak and helmet, and donned them. Going out on deck, he shouted in excellent imitation Yin Fu's voice: "It's all right, warriors. Open the gate. I'm going out with my old friend, Gar Zin, to drink a bowl or two with him, and have a try at norgal. Look well to your tasks until I return."

There followed a whirring of hidden machinery, and a sliding sound as of stone over metal. Then the rowers bent to their oars. San Thoy, meanwhile, discarded the helmet and cloak in the cabin, and hurried out to take his place on the steermen's seat. Soon the boat began rocking with considerable violence. Shortly thereafter the rowers ceased their efforts, and Kantar knew that they were now afloat on the' open Azpok, and plunging forward under the impetus of a stiff breeze.

Presently San Thoy gave the steersman's seat to another, and entered the cabin. "We'll have to put out the light for awhile," he said. "They will use a glass on us from the shore, and we don't want them to know in which direction we are going. At least you will not have to stay trussed up in these nets any longer, and I can dispose of that," pointing to the corpse of Yin Fu. He looked around the cabin for a moment as if to fix the location of everything in his mind. Then he put out the light, and the gunner heard him dragging his grisly burden out of the cabin, heard a splash, and knew that the remains of Yin Fu had gone to feed the denizens of the Azpok.

Kantar quickly rolled out of his net, and went over to where his precious bundle lay. "If you don't mind, I'll help you out of this, Your Majesty," he said. "I'm sure you will be more comfortable."

"I'm sure I shall," was the reply. "You have been very kind."

The gunner was startled at the sound of the voice. It did not sound like that of Vernia. But he thought she might have taken cold from this unwonted exposure. Then, too, her voice would sound differently, muffled in the hanging.

"You have been very brave Majesty," he replied, as he unwound the net. "Perhaps this silk around you will add to your comfort. The breeze is chill."

He adjusted the silken drape around the shapely shoulders. A soft hand touched his and thrilled him unaccountably. It gave him rather a guilty feeling, that thrill, but he could no more help it than he could help breathing.

"Ho, Gunner. Can you help me with the boat? The crew is leaving."

"Coming, San Thoy," was the reply. He felt his way to the door in the pitch blackness, then stepped out on deck. Outside it was fully as dark as in the cabin. Nothing whatever was visible except the occasional glint of a star through a rent in the ever-present cloud envelope.

A hand was laid on his arm. "Let me guide you," said San Thoy, whose cat-like pupils enabled him to see by the faint flashes of starlight. "Sit here, so, and take these ropes in your hands. Now pull the right or left rope, or both, as I may direct. I will steer.

"Where are the brothers?" asked Kantar.

"They were leaving when I called you. They will reach the two boats, and return to Huitsen by a roundabout way known only to the Chispoks."

"I trust that they will not lose their lives for this night's work."

"There is little danger. Their part in the affair is not known. Also it is possible that the Chispoks may be in power when they return."

"But what of you?"

"I will accompany you back to Reabon. In Huitsen I am a fugitive, but in your country I feel that I shall be welcome after this night's work. Later, if and when the Chispoks assume control of Huitsen, I shall return."

"No one will be more welcome," replied the gunner, "unless it be Grandon of Terra himself."

They sailed on and on into the moonless Zorovian night, and Kantar, who was aware of the almost uncanny skill with which the Huitsenni navigated their boats, did not doubt that they were heading in the right direction.

Presently San Thoy said: "We could have a light now, as we are out of sight from shore, But it is scarcely worth while, as morning will soon dawn."

A few moments later a faint blood-orange tint marked the outlines of the eastern horizon, swiftly followed by the full blaze of cloud-filtered morning light.

"There are provisions and kova in the cabin," said San Thoy. "Perhaps you will prepare breakfast for Her Majesty. It is best that I continue to steer for yet a while. The breeze is quite steady now, so you may lash the ropes."

"If my nose doesn't deceive me," replied the gunner, who was closer to the cabin than San Thoy, "breakfast is already being prepared. However, I'll go and assist."

Making the two ropes fast, he got up and went to the cabin. Pausing to make obeisance to his Torroga, he gasped in sudden astonishment at sight of a slender, dark-haired girl bending over the fish-oil burner, from the top of which came the fragrant aroma of brewing kova and the savory odor of a well-seasoned meat and mushroom stew. As the morning was chill, the girl still wore the silken curtain draped around her, concealing her garments but not the graceful lines of her slim body.

"Bones of Thorth!" he exclaimed. "Who are you?"

She looked up, her face slightly flushed by the heat from the stove, and Kantar gasped again; for never, he thought, had he seen a face so beautiful. At first her eyes flashed imperiously, almost angrily, at the abruptness and bluntness of his question. But suddenly the icy look melted, was replaced by a winning smile.

"My name is Narine," she replied. "And you, I believe, are Kantar the Gunner."

Kantar's wonder deepened. For a moment he was wholly under the spell of those big brown eyes. Then he remembered his duty-the trust with which his sovereign had charged him.

"Where is Her Majesty of Reabon?" he asked. "And how did you get on this boat?"

"Her Majesty," replied Narine, "was watching the brilliant swordplay of her valiant husband when I last saw her. As for your other question, who should know more about how I got here than you, who brought me?"

"I brought you!" His heart sank. "Then I have failed in my trust."

Instantly she saw the look of dejection on his face, and answered with one of sympathy.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I see now that there has been a dreadful mistake. Would that I had known this when you seized me there in the seraglio! Her Majesty had mentioned your name to me. We had planned to escape together. But naturally I did not know His Majesty's plans-or yours. When you told me your name and asked me to be quiet I believed that it was your intention to rescue me-that Grandon of Terra would look out for his own."

"So he would, ordinarily;" replied Kantar. "But he was sorely beset. My orders were to bring away his wife; to stay out of the fight for that sole purpose, no matter how the odds went against him. And I brought you!"

"I'm terribly sorry-" she began.

"Sorry! You should have known. Didn't I address you as `Your Majesty'? Did not that tell you whom I believed I was carrying?"

"Truly it did not. I thought you had taken me for a torroga instead of—that is—"

"I take you for a torroga?" He laughed mirthlessly. "You, a mere slip of a girl?"

"I'm eighteen," she retorted.

"So? And what of it? I would never take you for a torroga."

For a moment the shadow of a smile hovered on her features. But it only angered him the more. He had made a mistake, a most horrible mistake which he felt that Grandon, if still alive, could never pardon-a mistake, moreover, for which he felt positive he could never forgive himself. A thousand fears assailed him. Torturing pictures flashed through his mind. Grandon dead, his head adorned a pike before the Ibbit palace, or if alive, a slave of the savage chieftain from the Mountains of Eternal Snow. Vernia the plaything of this barbarous rogo, or, if she had been left in the seraglio, of Yin Yin's successor! For a moment he struggled to master his unreasoning anger against this girl who had been the unwitting cause of his failure to keep trust. Then he said: "From what country do you hail?"

"From Tyrhana," she replied. "Won't you sit down at the table and let me serve you?"

"Why, yes," he answered. "I'll admit that I'm hungry, thirsty, and weary."

She set food and drink before him. He sipped his kova. "You brew an excellent bowl," he told her, and tasting his stew: "This food is not half bad."

She smiled. "The Tyrhanians are a maritime people," she replied, "and should know how to prepare seamen's rations.

"I forgot," he said. "San Thoy must be hungry. Ill take food and drink to him before I begin."

"No, let me. I've been resting all night, and I'll confess that I tasted the stew and the kova." She set the things on a tray and went out, while the gunner addressed himself to his provender. Presently she returned, poured herself a bowl of kova, and took a helping of stew. Then she sat down opposite him.

"A lovely morning." she remarked.

"Is it?" he replied, absently. "I've been thinking about you, wondering what I'm going to do with you."

"Indeed!"

"Yes. You see I haven't time to take you all the way to Tyrhana. I must go back to Huitsen, to do what I can to help their Majesties of Reabon, if indeed they are not beyond all human help."

"Perhaps I could get you some assistance from Tyrhana. You see," she suggested, "my father-that is-7

"No use," he replied. "Tyrhana is on the opposite side of the world. By the time we went there and returned-"

But Tyrhana has great fleets, even now, scouring every sea on the globe in search of-a lost princess."

"A lost princess!"

"Yes. Some time ago the Torrogini set sail in one of her father's battleships. She has not been heard from since. Naturally, the Torogo, who loves his daughters beyond all else is bending every effort to find her."

"Naturally," replied Kantar. "But the chances are much against our meeting any of his ships on the broad Azpok."

"You forget," reminded Narine, "that Tyrhana has the mightiest navy on all Zorovia."

"Reabon has a navy second only to that of Tyrhana," replied Kantar, "and her ships are now scouring the Azpok; Yet I do not place much reliance on the chance of meeting any of them. Besides-"

He was interrupted by a shout from San Thoy. "Gunner. Bring the glass. I believe we are pursued."

Kantar snatched the spy-glass from the rack behind him, and hurried out on deck. He saw a ship coming from the southwest, and a sail looming above the southeast horizon. Quickly focusing the glass on the sail, he saw a lookout at the masthead, his glass trained directly on them. A glimpse at the other ship was sufficient to show him that they were being chased from this quarter. Even as he looked, two mattork crews were going into action on the forward deck. A moment later, a shell screamed overhead, and another exploded in the water about two hundred feet behind them.

"Poor marksmanship," he commented coolly. "But I suppose they'll get the range presently. Would that I had a mattork with which to reply!"

"We have two," said San Thoy, "one fore and one aft. Pull up the ring in the after-deck."

Kantar hurried back and did as requested. The square of the deck to which the ring was attached came up and tilted forward. It was plated beneath with metal, forming a bullet-proof shield. And behind this shield there appeared a shiny new mattork mounted on its tripod, with cases for the projectile clips and gas clips.

Quickly the gunner opened the breech, inserting a gas clip and a shell clip marked "explosive." There were other shell clips marked "solid," but for the present, he ignored these. Closing the breech, he knelt, and taking careful aim, pressed the firing button. One of the mattork crews on the approaching ship disappeared a moment later, as if by magic.

The shells from the other mattork, as well as from the heavier turret mattorks of the pursuing craft, were screaming around them in vast numbers, and kicking up tremendous geysers in the sea on all sides. He heard a voice at his side: "May I help you?" Turning, he looked in the wistful brown eyes of Narine. She did not appear to realize their danger, for there was no trace of fear in her expression. "I can hand you the clips."

"Get back into the cabin, you little fool!" he told her. Not waiting to see if she would obey, he once more turned his attention to the enemy. A second well-placed shot wiped out the other mattork crew, and he noted with grim satisfaction that no more came out on the deck. Perhaps the pirates realized now with whom they had to deal. The heavier turret mattorks, though their projectiles could do incalculably greater damage, could not be aimed nearly so accurately as the lighter deck weapons such as he used.

By this time the other pirate ship was in full view. Evidently its commander had seen what happened on the other vessel, for he ordered out only one deck mattork crew. The gunner quickly obliterated it, and had the satisfaction of seeing that this commander, also, was wise enough to use only his turret mattorks thereafter.

"Splendid shooting." Again he heard that voice behind him.

He turned savagely. "I thought I told you-"

"Very well. I'll go. You needn't glare at me so. Besides, if one of those big shells should strike us, the cabin would be no safer than the deck. I'll go forward and talk to San Thoy, who can't be more disagreeable."

Kantar removed the clip of explosive shells and inserted one of solid shot. He would try to let some water into these ships. That would slow them up. He took aim, and held his finger on the firing button. The weapon poured forth a steady stream of projectiles. When the clip was empty, he inserted another, and riddled the other ship below the water line. The enemy shells were screaming closer, and in larger numbers. Only one shell, he knew, properly placed, would completely destroy their little craft.

Suddenly he heard their own forward mattork go into action. Looking back over the low roof of the cabin, he saw that San Thoy was still steering. Then he knew that Narine was operating that mattork. Moreover, she was using explosive shells, and had scored several hits.

Having punctured both ships below their water lines, Kantar decided to try to cripple their masts. Accordingly he reloaded, this time with explosive shells. As he bent to his task, his hands worked almost mechanically. He was thinking, not of their danger, not even of Grandon and Vernia. Strange to say, the thought that dominated his mind at the moment was, that Narine was very beautiful.

He was suddenly recalled to stark reality as a solid projectile struck their own mast, carrying it overboard, and leaving them at the mercy of their pursuers.

XV. Beasts of the Antarctic

ALTHOUGH HE plainly saw the Ibbit warrior left to slay him by the savage chieftain who had abducted Vernia, Grandon continued to drop swiftly from balcony to balcony as if contemptuous of his furry enemy. As his feet struck the lowest balcony, the long lance with its corkscrew head was thrust at him, and he now saw its purpose and how deadly it could be, for the warrior pulled a small lever like a trigger, as he thrust, and the head whirled so rapidly that its outlines blurred.

He leaped lightly aside just in time to avoid that whirling deadly point. Then before the Ibbit could draw it back for a second thrust, he whipped out his scarbo, and extending the point, dived straight over the railing at his enemy.

Taken completely by surprize at this daring and desperate move of the Earth-man, the furry fighter tried to dodge the swiftly descending point. But he moved too late. With the full weight of Grandon behind it, the blade of the scarbo was driven through his body up to the hilt, and he lunged out of the saddle.

Grandon and the corpse of his would-be slayer struck the ground together. Withdrawing his scarbo, the Earth-man sprang to his feet. To his consternation, he saw that the blade had been snapped off about ten inches from the hilt. Then he noticed that his 'fallen foe wore a scarbo, and quickly appropriated it. He also took his huge cloak and hood of zandar fur, his long fur boots and gauntlets, and his lance.

By this time Heg, Rogo of the Ibbits and his warriors, were half-way to the city gate. Grandon knew that the only possible way to catch them would be for him to mount and ride the strange and formidable looking beast whose rider he had just slain. The creature was evidently well trained; for despite the fight which had brought it a change of masters, it kept its place beneath the balcony, complacently chewing its cud.

On Earth Grandon had been accounted a good rider, but here were beast and equipment both of which were new to him. The savage-looking mount was saddled, but wore neither bridle nor halter. He had no idea how it could be guided, started, or stopped, but there was nothing for him except to climb into the saddle and investigate: This he did.

"Go ahead," he said, in patoa. Without moving, the beast continued its contented cud-chewing. Instinctively, he dug his heels into its sides as if he had worn spurs. So suddenly that he was almost unseated, the zandar sprang forward. But it was going in the wrong direction. How to turn it was the next problem. He tried slapping its neck, first on one side, then on the other, without effect. Then he tried pressing alternately with the right and left knees with no result. Baffled, he grasped the creature's mane, determined to spring from the saddle and follow the Ibbits on foot. Instantly the beast slowed down and stopped.

If he could only find out how to turn the creature! Once more he dug his heels into its sides and the animal sprang forward. He heard someone shout, and turned to see who it was. A group of Huitsenni had discovered the dead Ibbit beneath the balcony. But when he turned, he advanced his right foot and drew back his left. Instantly the zandar whirled to the left. Quickly he returned his feet to the normal position, whereupon the beast settled down to a straight course. He advanced his left foot and drew back his right, and the zandar turned to the right. Now able to guide his strange mount, he set off in swift pursuit of the Ibbits.

The hoofs of his speeding zandar beat a rumbling tattoo on the planking of the broad street, and he dug his heels into its sides to urge it to greater efforts. The Ibbits, he observed, had been stopped at the city gate. The mojak of the guard was evidently suspicious because of their abrupt departure.

Grandon wondered if the body of Yin Yin had been discovered. Probably not, he thought, as the room in which he had been slain was segregated from the others; and of those who had witnessed his death, there had been none left alive to carry the news. It would be discovered eventually, of course. But in the meantime, the Ibbits might be well away from the city.

He was about a quarter of a mile from the party of Ibbits he was striving to catch when he saw the gates thrown open. A moment later, the boom of a mattork sounded from the direction of the palace, and a shell screamed over his head. Then he knew that the body of Yin Yin had been discovered. The firing of the mattork was evidently a signal to the mojak of the guard, who threw a party of his warriors in front of the Ibbits and tried to close the gates.

Instantly, the Ibbits couched their long lances, and charged. There was a popping of tork fire from the thin line of guards, but they were swept away like straw before a gale. Some were trampled underfoot, some were gored by the horns of the charging beasts, and the rest impaled and swung off their feet on the long lances, to be thrown over the head of the first-line riders and trampled beneath the hoofs of the cavalcade that followed.

In his anxiety to catch that charging column, Grandon dug his heels into the ribs of his mount with all his might. But the beast, evidently traveling at its utmost speed already, did not respond in any way except to grunt angrily.

He arrived at the gate about a hundred yards behind the last Ibbit in the column, in a hail of mattork shells from the palace. A single man barred his way-the mojak. Evidently all the others had been slain.

Elevating the muzzle of his tork, the officer sent a bullet uncomfortably close to Grandon's ear. Couching his lance, he pulled back the lever, and the corkscrew head began revolving with terrific speed. It struck the mojak in the middle, and instantly drilled through him, up to the knob. Not knowing how to release his weapon from the body, Grandon dropped it, and stooping from the saddle, caught up another which was lying beside a dead Ibbit. With this he experimented as he hurried forward to join the furry savages. He found that when the lever was pulled back, the head revolved clockwise, literally screwing itself into its victim. When the lever was perpendicular to the shaft, it stopped, but when it was pushed forward, the head immediately revolved in a counter-clockwise direction, thus swiftly unscrewing itself from anything in which it might be imbedded. This explained how the Ibbits were able to impale their victims and then hurl them over their heads without losing their lances.

The last faint glow from the city lights was disappearing as Grandon caught up with the rear guard of the Ibbits. Now, at intervals of about fifty feet in the column, riders lighted torches. Muffled up as he was, however, with the hood throwing his features into shadow, Grandon did not fear recognition unless the sound of his voice or his accent should make someone suspicious. Suddenly a rider beside him turned and put him to the test: "Did you slay the strange warrior?" he asked.

Grandon pretended to be seized with a fit of coughing. Then, in the rasping tones of a man whose vocal cords have not yet recovered from such an attack, he replied: "I ran him through the heart. He will trouble us no more."

"Good!" exclaimed the rider, evidently unsuspicious. "His Majesty was worried about that fellow. He feared that he would find a way to follow, and come upon him by stealth. You will be well rewarded."

Grandon smiled to himself, and made no further comment. Far up hear the front of the column he saw a rider carrying a fur-covered bundle which he believed to be Vernia. But he did not deem it advisable to ride too near the Rogo just yet. There might be questions to answer, and he felt sure that, sooner or later, his voice would betray him unless he could manage to keep from speaking.

Presently they entered a belt of tall trees, primitive conifers, where the trail began to slant sharply upward. Here the beasts slowed down to a walk, though they did not seem greatly inconvenienced by the steepness of the ascent.

As they climbed higher and higher, the air kept growing colder, until Grandon, who had been uncomfortably warm in his furs when on the low ground, was now thankful for them. Soon he noticed that the ground was powdered with a white substance. It was snow, the first he had seen on Venus. Also, he began to be aware of furtive, slinking forms flitting among the tree trunks, trotting beside the cavalcade. Their eyes glowed weirdly green in the torchlight, but it was some time before he could make out what they were. Then one, bolder than the rest, approached to within fifty feet of the riders, and he got a good look at it. It was a white awoo. Some time later he caught sight of a white marmelot, tearing at the carcass of some beast it had slain. And he began to wonder if all creatures, here in the Zorovian antarctic, were white.

The snow grew deeper as they advanced, and the trees more stunted. Presently they crossed a narrow ridge and filed out onto level ground-a snow-covered plateau, its bleak surface swept by a bitterly cold wind laden with powdered ice particles that pricked the skin like needles. Here, despite the deep snow, the zandars made good progress. This was their natural habitat, and they were equipped for it. Their broad, three-toed feet kept them from sinking deeply, and with their thick, silky coats, Grandon judged that they were more comfortable than in the lower, warmer country.

All through the night, the shaggy beasts kept up their tireless pace. But when morning dawned, the cavalcade halted in a little clump of stunted trees that afforded some protection from the wind, for rest and refreshment.

The zandars, with their saddles still on them, were turned loose to shift for themselves. Grandon saw them eagerly devouring a species of purple moss that grew on top of the snow and sent long, thread-like roots to the soil, far below. They also browsed on such aromatic shoots as they were able to reach on the lower branches of the trees.

Soon the Ibbits had a fire crackling. Then two huge pots were set upon it and snow was shoveled into them to melt. As soon as sufficient water was thus obtained, strips of frozen meat were dropped into the larger of the two pots, and chopped kova roots into the smaller. Vernia was placed near the fire. The rogo sat near her, endeavoring to engage her in conversation, but without success. On the other side of the fire the warriors sprawled in a semicircle, chatting, laughing, and eagerly watching the operations of two of their number who were acting as cooks.

With the coming of the dawn, Grandon had been especially careful to keep his hood pulled forward, so that his features would not be noticed. Now, as he sat among the warriors, he kept his head bowed as an additional precaution.

Presently the two cooks went among the men, serving the stewed meat and steaming bowls of kova. Grandon found the meat tough and rather tasteless, but welcome, nevertheless, after his long ride. The kova was well brewed, and refreshing.

After they had eaten and drunk, the warriors stretched out in the snow to sleep. Grandon, perforce, followed their example for fear of becoming conspicuous, but managed to turn his head so that he could watch Vernia and the Rogo. The chieftain, after unsuccessfully urging his fair prisoner to get some rest, lay down himself. As soon as it appeared that he was asleep, Grandon drew back his hood, then raised one arm to attract the attention of Vernia, who sat staring moodily into the fire. Her eyes attracted by the motion of the arm, she glanced toward him, then smothered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. Instantly he whipped the hood back over his face and lowered his arm.

Now, seeing that she was covertly watching him, he began slowly rolling away from the others, and motioned to her to edge away from beside the fire at the same time. He hoped that if they could get away from the sleepers with sufficient stealth they could catch two of the grazing zandars, and put a considerable distance between themselves and the Ibbits before the ruse would be discovered.

But his plans were suddenly upset by an agonized bellowing from one of the zandars, followed by a tremendous hissing sound which brought every warrior to his feet. Grandon sprang erect with the others, and saw a monster with a gigantic, lizard-like body to which was attached a scaly serpentine neck and head, biting immense mouthfuls of flesh from the zandar it had just struck down, and which it was holding beneath one huge front claw. Save for its color-for its body was completely covered by gleaming white scales-it might have been a silticum one of those dangerous lizards he had first encountered in the fern forests of Reabon.

"A posilticum! A posilticum!" shouted the warriors. Catching up their spiral-pointed spears, they charged the monster.

Like the others, Grandon caught up his lance, and was about to join them in their attack on the monster, when another idea suddenly came to him. He noticed that the Rogo of the Ibbits, although he had sprung to his feet, had not moved from his place beside Vernia. The chieftain noticed his hesitation at the same time, and cried: "What! Does a warrior of mine fear a posilticum? Go at once with the others, or stay to receive your Rogo's blade."

Nothing could have suited Grandon better. Flinging down his lance, he whipped out his scarbo and leaped across the dying embers of the fire. The chieftain was evidently a good scarboman as Ibbits go, for it appeared that he thought to make short work of Grandon as he struck out with his own blade. It was a cut for the head, which the Earth-man parried. Countering with the same stroke, he found the blade of the Rogo there to meet his. Leaping back to avoid a horizontal blow at the neck, he suddenly changed from the well-established Zorovian practice of using the scarbo as a cutting weapon, and presented his point, lunging for the breast of the barbarian.

Heg was not prepared for this innovation. Nor had he time to come on guard after the terrific slash he had directed at Grandon's neck. The Earth-man's blade tore through his heart, and he toppled backward, dead.

A quick glance around showed Grandon that his duel with the furry Rogo had not been observed by the others, all of whom were skipping about the posilticum, lunging at it with their spiral lances, and leaping back to avoid the darting of its huge and terrible head. The noise they made the hissing of the posilticum, the bellowing of frightened zandars, and the shouts of the Ibbits, had drowned all sound of the clashing scarbos.

"Come," said Grandon, cleaning and sheathing his blade and catching up his lance. "Now is our chance."

Hand in hand, he and Vernia ran to where a group of frightened zandars cowered together as if for mutual protection. He helped her to mount one of the shaggy beasts, and gave her swift instructions for riding it. Then he leaped to the back of another, and they were off.

As soon as they left the shelter of the trees, the cold wind and stinging snow particles buffeted them unmercifully. They had not been gone more than a few minutes when a terrific blizzard swept down on them. Grandon laid their course in the direction he judged to be northwest, intending to circle Huitsen and make for the shore of the Azpok. He believed that a half-day's ride would take them to the edge of the plateau, and that by descending for a few miles they could find relief from the cold and snow.

But they rode more than a half-day without seeing any sign of the slope for which they were searching. Then a steep cliff, the summit of which was invisible in the whirling cloud of snowflakes, suddenly loomed ahead. They rode up to its base, and, skirting it for some distance, came at length to a dark opening in the rock, half closed by a snow drift. By this time, the zandars, which had traveled nearly all night and half the day with only an hour's rest, began to balk, and Grandon judged that it was best to permit them to rest, and at the same time take advantage of this natural shelter.

He accordingly dismounted, and leaving Vernia to watch the two beasts, cut a path through the snow into the cave with the aid of the whirling spiral point of his lance. Then, lighting his small flamemaker, and keeping the lance in readiness for an attack by a possible unseen enemy, he explored the place. He found himself in a room about twenty feet wide and fifty feet long, evidently chiseled from the rock by some prehistoric race, as it had the appearance of having been untenanted for ages. Mixed with the dust and litter of the ages, which strewed the floor, were a few partly calcined bones and some fragments of pottery, which showed that the primitives who had once lived here were acquainted with the use of fire.

Having satisfied himself that the place was untenanted, Grandon went back for Vernia and the two beasts. The zandars seemed glad for this shelter from the storm, and lay down immediately, to rest and chew their ends.

Gathering some bits of dried wood from the debris on the floor, Grandon made a small cooking fire near the entrance. As he had no large pots, he grilled some of the frozen meat from the saddlebags over the coals, and they made kova in the two copper drinking bowls which were part of the equipment in the saddlebags of the Ibbits.

Having eaten and drunk, they snuggled themselves in their furs, and it was not long before both, weary with the long ordeal through which they had passed, were asleep.

Vernia was the first to waken. She made two discoveries in rapid succession-first that a new day had dawned, and second that their mounts were not in the cave.

"Bob!" she cried. "The zandars are gone!"

He sat up and yawned. "Yes dear, Oh, the zandars. They've probably gone out to get their breakfast. I'll go and round them up."

"I'll help you."

"No, you'd better stay here where it's safe and warm."

"But I'll be all right, Bob. I have my furs."

Together they went outside, after Grandon did a little preliminary shoveling with his lance. The storm had passed, succeeded by a calm, bitter cold that was even more penetrating than the wind of the day before.

"No tracks," said Grandon. "They must have left before the blizzard was over. Looks as if we're in for it."

"Oh, Bob, what will we do?"

"Nothing to do but strike out on foot, if we can't find them. But we may as well have a look around first. You wait here, and I'll follow the cliff toward the south for a little way. I noticed quite a bit of purple moss growing there yesterday, and those beasts may have remembered, and gone back for it."

"Just in case they went the other way, I'll take a look in that direction," said Vernia.

"Better wait here. It will be safer."

"I don't see why. I won't go far, and I feel the need of a tramp before breakfast. Besides, the beasts may have gone toward the north, in which case we will save time by searching in both directions at once. Go ahead, and don't worry about me."

"Well, if you must. But don't go far, and don't be long."

She watched him for a moment as he strode off along the cliff, then turned and started in the opposite direction. She had gone only a short distance when her attention was attracted by what looked like the prickly segment of a species of Zorovian cactus projecting from behind a bend in the wall.

Puzzled, she walked forward to investigate, but scarcely had she rounded the bend, ere an immense white monster with eight bristly white legs ending in green claws, and a long, jointed tail, darted out and seized her with a pair of huge green chelae, much like the pincers of a lobster. It was one of these that she had mistaken for a segment of cactus. Running swiftly backward, it carried her into a large cave.

Through the center of the cave, from side to side, was stretched an immense web of rope-thick strands, coated with a gleaming, sticky-looking substance. And suspended in one corner of this hung one of the zandars. Beside the helpless beast was a ball about ten feet in diameter, woven of the same gleaming strands. The other zandar hung in a similar meshwork, near the center of the web.

So suddenly had it happened that Vernia had time to utter but one smothered scream of terror as she was dragged into the cave. Nor could she make any move to defend herself. The huge chelae held her like the jaws of a vise, their coarse, spiny hairs piercing her flesh through the heavy cloak she wore.

Holding her thus, the monster stopped, and standing on four legs, used the other four to draw a sticky white cord from beneath its abdomen and swiftly weave it around her, until she was scarcely able to move a finger. Then it ran up the web to the corner where the zandar hung beside the white ball and fastened her next to the helpless beast.

Having shaken the web several times to make sure that she was fastened securely, the gigantic strid, or spinner-scorpion, for such she recognized it to be, returned to the zandar near the center, and settled down over it to feed. As the wretched beast made no outcry, it was evident that it had either been paralyzed by the terrible telson, the poisonous sting at the end of the jointed tail, or slain by the immense chelae.

For some time, Vernia watched the monster at its bloody feast. Then her attention was attracted by a rustling sound quite near her. She turned, and saw that it came from the white ball beside which she was suspended.

Presently there was a sound as of tearing fabric. A hole appeared in the ball, and out of it came a pair of wiggling, hairy chelae, small replicas of those of the mother scorpion. They were followed by an armored head in which were set three pairs of glowing eyes, blinking dully out at the world for the first time. It was then that Vernia realized what was in store for her. The monster had suspended both her and the zandar beside its cocoon as food for her young when they should break through the shell.

Even as this horrible realization came to her, the first young strid forced its way through the opening, and came ambling across the web toward her on its eight hairy legs.

XVI. Zinlo of Olba

WITH ITS MAST shot away, the little sailboat in which rode Kantar the Gunner, Narine of Tyrhana, and San Thoy of Huitsen, would not respond to the rudder, but came about and drifted broadside to the waves, rocking precariously while mattork shells exploded all around it. The two pursuing pirate ships now bore down on the helpless boat.

Despite the increased difficulty of aiming his weapon, occasioned by the erratic plunging of the little craft, the skillful gunner succeeded in shattering a few spars and damaging the rigging of one of their pursuers with his explosive bullets. But as the two ships drew closer, he ceased firing, knowing that in surrender now lay their only hope of life. Abandoning his weapon, he hurried forward, where he found Narine still endeavoring to manage the other mattork.

"Stop shooting," he said, "or the pirates will blow us to pieces. They are bound to hit us when they get a little closer."

"I hope they do," she replied as she fired another shot, which, on account of the rocking of the boat, went wide of the mark. "To me death is preferable to falling again into their hands."

As if in answer to her wish, a shell struck them aft, the next moment, completely demolishing the stern. Kantar and Narine were both hurled against the cabin by the force of the concussion, and San Thoy shot from his steersman's seat to a point on the deck quite near them. The hold filled almost instantly, and the boat plunged beneath the waves.

As they went down, Kantar seized Narine's wrist. A moment later they came up, struggling and sputtering in the water.

"Let me go," she demanded, as soon as she could get her breath. "I can take care of myself."

The gunner relinquished her wrist, and grinning maliciously, said: "Well, you had your wish. I hope you are enjoying the consequences."

Without replying, she turned and swam for a bit of wreckage larger than the others that bobbed around them. It had once been part of the after deck. Kantar looked around for San Thoy, and seeing him clinging to a heavy beam which could easily support him in the water, he leisurely followed Narine. The pirate ship ceased firing, and one of them was now only three hundred yards distant.

Swimming up beside the girl's bit of wreckage, Kantar rested an arm upon it.

"May I share this luxurious float with you?" he asked, smiling.

"If you will try to be agreeable," she answered. "But one more word of sarcasm, and I'll-"

"You'll what?"

"Duck you."

"Try it."

She did, forcing his head, unresisting, under water. She held it there until she considered that his punishment had been sufficient, then removed her hand. But he didn't come up. Instead, his face remained under water, and he floated limply there beside the wreckage. She pulled his hair, but got no response. Alarmed,' she moved closer, and lifted his head from the water.

The gunner, who had been shamming, peered at her beneath lowered lids-saw the consternation in her pretty face-saw her red lips so close to his. A maddening desire from them overcome him.

"Kantar!" she cried. "Oh, what have I done?"

Suddenly, he swept her to him, crushed her lips to his.

She trembled there in his embrace for a moment, then broke from him, her face scarlet.

"You would dare!" she exclaimed. "Oh, you beast! You are worse than the Huitsenni, none of whom has ventured to so affront me."

"Narine," he pleaded, "I love you. I must tell you this before I go to my death at the hands of those yellow pirates, for they will surely slay me after what I have done. Your lips drew me-twin lodestones I could not resist. If you cannot return my love, can you at least forgive me?"

Her look softened. "The pirates have lowered a boat," she said, "so I must put maidenly modesty aside and answer you briefly and truthfully. I do love you, my brave gunner. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, there in the cabin of the little fishing boat. But even had I hope of life and freedom, I could never marry you."

"There is another man?"

"Yes. My father. He would never consent."

"Perhaps he could be brought to reason."

"Impossible. You see my older sister disappointed him in his plans for a matrimonial alliance, and fell in love, but he will not be turned again from his purpose. Her disappointed lover has agreed to solace himself with me. My father will not give in so easily a second time.

"But all this talk is futile. We are once more in the power of the Huitsenni, and only they may decide our fate. Here is the boat. Farewell, my gunner, and may Thorth guide and keep you."

"Ill never give you up," he cried.

Yellow hands seized them, dragged them into the boat. Then Kantar suddenly saw what he had no opportunity to see before. When the boat had gone down, Narine's improvised cloak had floated from her. Later, all but her head, arms, and shoulders had been under water. But now he observed that she wore scarlet of royalty, and on the golden breast shields he saw the insignia of an imperial princess of Tyrhana. All the hopes which her words had aroused died in his heart. For Kantar was but a common soldier. His father had been an officer in the Uxponian army, but without even the purple of nobility.

Narine saw the despair in his eyes, and guessed his thoughts. She smiled a little wistful smile.

"I understand now," said the gunner. Then he resolutely turned his head away, and meekly permitted his captors to bind his wrists. A moment later, San Thoy also was dragged out of the water.

Swiftly the rowers propelled the boat back to the ship. The prisoners were hoisted aboard. Narine was hurried away by the mojak of the vessel. And with kicks and cuffs, Kantar and San Thoy, bound hand and foot, were thrown into an evil-smelling room in the hold, quite similar to the one in which they had been confined with Grandon when first taken to Huitsen. Immediately Kantar set about trying to loose the bonds of his companion.

But his tedious labors were suddenly interrupted by an explosion which tore a hole in the planking above their heads. There followed the rapid booming of mattorks, the screaming of projectiles, and the almost continuous bursting of shells.

"Our captors must have found new victims," said Kantar, springing to his feet.

"Judging by the number of shells which are striking this ship, I would say that they are more likely to become the victims," replied San Thoy, also getting to his feet.

Both men hopped to the side of the boat-they could not walk because of their bound feet-and peered through the loopholes.

"Bones of Thorth!" exclaimed San Thoy. "There are ships floating in the air!"

Looking out, Kantar saw a fleet of aerial battleships. They were shaped like duck-boats, surmounted by heavy transparent turrets mounting heavy mattorks, and flew without wings, rudders or propellers.

"They are Olban airships," he said. "I once saw a fleet of them in Reabon."

"Never before have I seen or heard of such marvellous craft above the Azpok," said San Thoy.

"It's strange that they should be here. I wonder-ah! I have it. Zinlo, Torrogo of Olba, is fiance of Loralie, the Torrogina of Tyrhana. Naturally he would, on being advised of the disappearance of her younger sister, assist in the search for her. And just as naturally, he would attack the ships of the Huitsenni, who are enemies to all Zorovia, wherever he should find them."

For several minutes the bombardment became more intense, and Kantar was much concerned for Narine's safety. Then a huge shadow darkened the waters before them, the bombardment ceased, and there was the noise of grappling hooks scraping across the splintered decks. These sounds were succeeded by the tramping of many feet above them, the clashing of arms intermingled with the spitting of tork fire, and a medley of shouts, groans, and shrieks.

"The Olbans have boarded us," said Kantar. "I trust they arrive in time to save Narine."

The fighting was soon over. And presently the gunner heard the tramp of warriors, evidently searching the ship, passing their door. "Ho, Olbans," he called, "open the door."

"Who is it?" a voice asked, cautiously.

"A warrior of Reabon and a fellow prisoner," he replied.

The door was unbolted and flung open. Three Olban warriors, with the muzzles of their torks elevated, peered in, while a fourth flashed a light about the room. Seeing the two bound men, they entered and quickly released them.

"Have they found the princess?" Kantar inquired, rubbing his numbed wrists. "Is she safe?"

"What princess?" asked the soldier who had removed his bonds. "We know naught of a princess."

"Why, Narine, Torrogini of Tyrhana," replied the gunner. "She was captured and brought aboard with us."

"Ha! It is as His Majesty suspected," cried another soldier. "From a distance we saw them sink a small boat, and later lower a boat to bring away three people from the wreckage. Yet their mojak has stoutly denied that he had prisoners aboard. Come. The Torrogo must hear of this at once."

With the four Olbans, they hurried to the deck. A group of Huitsenni prisoners huddled, weaponless, in the stern, under the watchful eyes of several guards. Warriors were heaving the bodies of the slain overboard and Olban surgeons were tending the wounded, both friend and foe. Attached to the side of the vessel by hooks and chains was an immense aerial battleship with twelve gun turrets. A set of collapsible aluminum stairs led from an open door in one of these turrets to the deck of the ship. On the opposite side, another aerial battleship was similarly fastened. A fleet of a dozen more airships floated overhead, and Kantar saw that the other pirate ship had also been boarded by the crews of two aerial battleships, and its men subdued.

They hurried forward. On the foredeck stood a handsome young man of about the gunner's own age, whom Kantar instantly recognized as Zinlo, Torrogo of Olba. He was clad in scarlet apparel, gold-trimmed and glittering with precious stones. On his feet were sandals of soft frella hide, and his scarlet, turban-shaped headpiece was decked with gold fringe and set with a huge ruby that blazed above the center of his forehead. Beside him stood an equally youthful soldier, whose insignia proclaimed him Romojak of the Aerial Navies of Olba.

On his knees before the young Torrogo was the mojak of the vessel. As Kantar came up with the others he was saying: "I swear to you, Majesty, by the beard and body of Thorth, by all I hold sacred, that I have no prisoners, white or yellow, on board."

"So. You persist in your falsehood." Zinlo frowned at the yellow man who groveled before him. Then his eyes fell on Kantar and San Thoy.

"Whom have we here?" he asked one of the warriors who had released them.

The mojak looked around, and seeing who stood behind him, turned a pale, sickly yellow.

"They are two prisoners we found in a room below the deck, Your Majesty," replied the warrior.

Kantar made obeisance, with right hand extended palm downward.

"I am Kantar the Gunner, of Reabon, Your Majesty," he said, "and my companion is San Thoy, a former mojak in the navy of Huitsen. If you don't mind, I would prefer to tell you our story after Her Imperial Highness has been found."

"Her Imperial Highness?"

"I refer Your Majesty, to Narine, Torrogini of Tyrhana."

"Hal" Zinlo suddenly whipped out his scarbo and presented its point to the breast of the frightened mojak. "Now, you yellow hahoe, we have caught you lying. Either you will tell us, this instant, where the Princess is concealed, or I will slay you, and if need be, tear this ship apart to find her."

"Mercy, Majesty! Have mercy!" quavered the mojak. "I will show you."

Rising, and backing away from the royal presence, he stooped and seized a ring in the deck. Pulling this, he lifted a trap door from which a short ladder led down into a small cabin. Lying on the sleeping shelf of the cabin was Narine, gagged, and bound hand and foot.

Disdaining the ladder, Kantar dropped into the cabin, closely followed by the young Torrogo. Together they quickly unbound the princess and removed her gag. She was limp, and apparently lifeless.

"Narine! Narine!" For the moment Kantar, who knelt beside the sleeping shelf, forgot the presence of Zinlo of Olba-forgot that the girl before him was an imperial princess.

Narine opened her eyes and saw Kantar bending over her. But Zinlo she did not see. Her right arm went around the gunner's neck-her hand caressed his sandy hair. "I'm just a little faint, my gunner. That gag made breathing difficult. I could not have lasted much longer."

He caught up her left hand, lying limply beside her, and covered it with kisses. "I'm glad, so glad, we came in time."

"My lips, Gunner. Have they lost their allure so quickly?" She drew his face down to hers.

Zinlo raised a quizzical eyebrow. Then, with a fierce gesture, he waved off the gaping warriors who were peering down at them.

"I heard explosions-men fighting on the decks. Tell me what happened," said Narine, a moment later.

"His Imperial Majesty, Zinlo of Olba, rescued us," replied Kantar, suddenly remembering the presence of the Torrogo, and blushing furiously in consequence.

"What!" Narine sat up quickly, then seeing Zinlo, turned to face him, her shapely legs dangling from the sleeping shelf.

"Your Majesty!" she cried in consternation. "I did not know you were here."

She rose and made the customary obeisance.

"I surmised as much, Your Highness," smiled Zinlo. Then he took her extended hand, and kneeling, raised it to his lips. "Shall we adjourn to more comfortable quarters?"

"Let's. I've always wanted to ride in one of your Olban airships. What of my father and sister?"

"Both well, but almost frantic with worry on account of you."

When they reached the deck, the young romojak, who had been standing beside Zinlo when Kantar first saw him, came up and saluted.

"What is it, Lotar?" asked Zinlo.

"We have disposed of all prisoners in accordance with Your Majesty's commands," replied the romojak. "There remains, however, the yellow man we found imprisoned with this warrior of Reabon."

"Take him aboard the flagship," said Zinlo, "and see that he has every comfort."

Lotar saluted and withdrew. Then the three climbed the aluminum stairs, and after passing through a narrow hallway, entered the luxurious saloon of Zinlo's flagship. The young Torrogo placed cushioned chairs for both of them, and summoned a slave. "Bring us kova," he commanded.

He drew up a chair and sat down. Then he noticed that Kantar, conforming to the usages of the court, had not seated himself because he was in the presence of royalty. "Sit, Gunner," he said. "We will have no formality here."

This was a command, and Kantar, whose feeling of embarrassment had only slightly lessened since the incident in the cabin, took the chair which had been placed for him.

The slave bustled in with kova, and Zinlo himself served his guests in tiny bowls of gold lined with mother of pearl.

"Now," he said, "as soon as my Romojak comes aboard, we'll fly to the flagship of Ad of Tyrhana. But in the meantime, Your Highness, suppose you tell me what you have been doing these many days."

"My father's flagship!" exclaimed Narine. "Where is he?"

"Only a little way from here," replied Zinlo, "and Loralie is with him. But let's hear that story."

Swiftly, Narine sketched for him the story of her adventures-the storm, her capture by the Huitsenni, her sale to Heg and rescue by Kantar, and their escape with the aid of San Thoy.

Zinlo frowned. "These yellow pirates must be wiped out," he said "and there is no better time than now to do it. But what of my friend Grandon and his beautiful bride?" he asked Kantar. "Do you think they were both carried off by the white-furred barbarians?"

"I think it probable," replied Kantar, "that her Majesty was carried off by Heg. It is possible that the Ibbits also took Grandon prisoner, but I think it more probable that he found some way to follow the savages, in an effort to rescue his bride."

"I'll send a squadron after them," said Zinlo. "As I judge from what Her Highness just told me that the capital of the furry Rogo is five days journey from Huitsen, my swift airships can easily overtake them before they reach their destination."

At this moment, Lotar came in and saluted.

"To the flagship of Ad of Tyrhana," commanded Zinlo. "Signal the fleet to attend us. You have placed the prize crews aboard the two pirate vessels?"

"Yes, Majesty." He saluted and withdrew.

A moment later the ship rose smoothly and swiftly to a height of about two thousand feet, then shot away toward the west at a tremendous speed. Kantar, who had never ridden in one of these craft before, but had heard that the swiftest ones were capable of traveling at the speed with which the planet revolved on its axis at the equator-approximately a thousand miles an hour-nevertheless marveled at the speed with which the ocean appeared to move beneath them as he watched through one of the side windows. Sailing on the waves of the Azpok, he now saw 'six large battle fleets, all within a few miles of the spot where their little craft had been sunk by the Huitsenni.

The airship reached a point over the flagship of one of these fleets and swiftly descended.

Narine placed a hand on Zinlo's arm. "You won't tell my father?" she asked.

"About what?" Zinlo appeared puzzled.

She looked tenderly at Kantar. "About us. We know it is hopeless, our love, and have agreed to-to-"

"Try to forget," suggested Zinlo.

"You're so helpful, my brother to be. But there in the cabin, for the moment, love mastered us."

"I understand, perfectly," said the young Torrogo.

"Of course. You and Loralie-"

"Exactly."

"But my father will not be moved from his purpose again. I know him well enough for that."

"Oh, I don't know. What has been done before can be done again. Perhaps I can do something."

"You are so kind. Now I know why Loralie just can't help loving you. But for the present at least, you will say nothing?"

"In that cabin, I was deaf, dumb, and blind, as were my warriors who happened to be peering down at us. But here we are at the flagship."

Kantar heard the clank of chains and the thud of grappling irons. Then Zinlo rose, and they followed him down the ladder to the deck of an immense battleship which flew the flag of Ad, Torrogo of Tyrhana.

Just as they reached the deck, the gunner saw two people emerge from one of the cabins-a tall, straight, athletic-appearing man about forty years of age, with a square-cut, jet-black beard, and a girl who closely resembled Narine, though she appeared a trifle more mature. Both wore the scarlet of royalty, and Kantar knew that they must be Ad of Tyrhana and his daughter, Loralie.

Narine ran into the open arms of her father, then embraced her sister. All three shed tears of joy, and Kantar, whose own eyes were overflowing, saw that Zinlo was in like case.

The gunner was presented, and all were ushered into Ad's sumptuous cabin where the customary kova was served.

After Narine had related the story of her adventures, Kantar was pressed to tell his, and those of Grandon and Vernia with which he was acquainted.

When the gunner had finished, Ad echoed the previously expressed sentiment of Zinlo. "We must wipe out the Huitsenni," he declared. "But first we must try to rescue their Majesties of Reabon."

"I'm going to send a squadron after the Ibbits," said Zinlo.

"But suppose Grandon and his bride are still in Huitsen."

"I believe we can ascertain whether or not they are there," said Kantar.

"How?" asked Ad.

"The Chispoks. There must be some members among the pirates you have captured. Land some of them near the city under cover of darkness. Let them investigate, and report back to you."

"A splendid idea," said Zinlo. "And I would suggest a further plan. Suppose we form an alliance with the Chispoks, overthrow the present regime, if indeed they have not done so already, and put them in power. That would be better than indiscriminately wiping out the entire yellow race, all of whom are certainly not responsible for the piratical outrages of Yin Yin's men. The port of Huitsen could then be opened for peaceful trade with all Zorovia, and if the Huitsenni should ever again develop piratical leanings, we would know how to stop them."

"I'm sure the alliance can be arranged, Your Majesty," said Kantar. "Suppose we send for San Thoy."

Zinlo called a servant. "Tell my romojak to bring San Thoy, the yellow man, here," he directed.

In a few moments Lotar came in, accompanied by San Thoy. Kantar presented the former mojak of the navy of Huitsen to the assemblage. Then Zinlo addressed Lotar. Briefly he told him why they suspected that Grandon and Vernia might be traveling southward with a party of Ibbits, and gave him his instructions: "Dispatch six ships," he commanded, "with orders to fly high above Huitsen, deep enough in the first cloud stratum so they will not be seen from the city. Then; when they have their bearings, let them spread out, and fly southward until they come to a column of furry white savages riding on three-horned beasts. If Grandon of Terra and his bride are with this party, they must rescue them as best they can, and bring them here at once."

Lotar saluted. "I hasten to carry out Your Majesty's commands," he replied, and hurried out.

As soon as Lotar had gone, San Thoy was quizzed about a possible alliance with the Chispoks. He not only felt positive that he could arrange this, but stated that he had received secret signs from several of the yellow sailors on board the vessel which he had been rescued, which proved to him that they were members of the brotherhood. After a short conference, he was dispatched in one of Zinlo's airships to visit both captured pirate vessels, and cull the Chispoks from among the prisoners.

"What of our allies?" Zinlo asked Ad, after San Thoy had departed. "Shall we let them help in the assault on Huitsen?"

Ad stroked his black beard thoughtfully. "Hum. Let's see. We have two squadrons here, of our own. Lying near by are two from Adonijar, and a little farther away, two from Reabon."

"In addition to their battleships, the Reabonians have two score transports, and as many munition ships, with a large army and munitions and equipment for a land offensive," said Zinlo.

"I was thinking of that," said Ad. "How or where could they land their army?"

"The Chispoks know a secret way," said Kantar. "San Thoy or one of his fellows could guide them."

"Splendid. We can now plan a united offensive. The Reabonians will disembark at night, and guided by the Chispoks, will march on Huitsen, prepared for an offensive tomorrow at an hour we shall set. You, Zinlo will mass your aerial battleships above the city to join in the attack at the same time, and to convey signals from one force to another. Meanwhile, the battleships of Tyrhana, Adonijar, and Reabon must find some way to get through the secret entrance."

"I've thought of a plan for that, also, Your Majesty," said Kantar.

"Good. Let me hear it, my boy."

And so Kantar related to them a plan he had conceived on the spur of the moment, whereby he believed they could not only get the gates opened for them, but keep them open for the entrance of the battle fleets of the three great nations.

XVII. The Death Sentence

SOME TIME AFTER Grandon and Vernia separated at the mouth of the cave to look for their riding-beasts which had disappeared, and which they believed had strayed in search of food, there came faintly to the ears of the Earth-man a sound that caused him to stop, whirl around, and listen intently. So slight was the sound that he could not quite make it out, yet it had a quality which made him suspicious that Vernia had called him. Though he strained his ears to catch a possible repetition, none was audible.

Alarmed, he retraced his steps as swiftly as possible, but the soft, newly fallen snow retarded his progress considerably. Fuming impatiently at the delay, he floundered past the mouth of the cave in which they had passed the night, and anxiously took up Vernia's trail, shouting her name as he went. But there was no reply.

The tracks led him close to the irregular base of the cliff, and as Grandon stumbled around a bend, he saw the same sight which Vernia had beheld only a short time before, and which had led to her entrapment-a bristly white and green object curving outward from behind a projection, which looked like a segment of Zorovian cactus. Like her, he thought it part of some antarctic plant, and proceeded incautiously toward it. He came to a sudden pause, however, and presented the spiral point of his lance, as the apparent segment resolved itself into one of the chelae of an immense white scorpion, which shot out from behind the projection, and charged swiftly toward him.

Pointing his lance, Grandon pulled back the lever which set the spiral head to whirling. Fearlessly, and without swerving or endeavoring to evade the weapon, the monster sprang at the Earth-man with its immense pincers extended to seize him. Right in the thorax the lance point struck, and bored in up to the knob. Grandon was thrown backward by the impact of that charge, but by diverting the butt of his lance downward and plunging it through the snow until it struck frozen ground beneath, was able to hold the scorpion away from him.

Then still clinging to the shaft with his left hand, he drew his scarbo with his right, and struck at the nearest chela. It was quite tough and horny, and the blade did not bite more than half-way through it. Clenching his teeth, he struck again with all his strength, and this time succeeded in severing it near the middle. Having mastered the art of it, he was able to cut off the other claw at the fist joint with two sharp blows.

But no sooner had these menaces been removed than he was threatened with another, even more dangerous. With lightning swiftness, the monster suddenly elevated its long, jointed tail, and stabbed at him with the terrible telson with which the tip was armed.

Avoiding the deadly thrust of the poison sting by leaning sideways, Grandon hacked at the thing with his scarbo. To his surprise, it was quite brittle, and broke off with the first blow.

Although the monster was now unable to injure him except at very close quarters, it was not without resource. It suddenly reached beneath its abdomen with its foremost pair of hairy legs, and drawing there-from a section of gleaming, sticky web as thick as a rope, it cast the loop about him and dragged him forward. He clung to the lanceshaft with all his might, and succeeded in severing the sticky loop with a stroke of his scarbo. Not so a second loop, however, which it unexpectedly flung around him, breaking his hold on the shaft, as it jerked him toward its ugly gaping mandibles with his right arm bound to his side.

He had previously refrained from using his tork for fear the sound would bring enemies but in this extremity he elevated the muzzle, depressed the firing-button, and sent a stream of bullets straight into the gaping jaws. With muffled detonations the projectiles exploded in the huge, armored body. A half-dozen of them sufficed to blow the hardshelled cephalothorax to bits, and reduced the segmented abdomen to a shapeless quivering mass.

Quickly shifting his scarbo to his left hand, Grandon cut himself free of the sticky loop that encumbered him. Then, perceiving the yawning cave mouth, and suspecting that it was here that Vernia had been taken, he rushed inside. Despite their wrappings, he was able to identify the two zandars, one hanging in the center of the huge web, the other at the edge beside a large spherical cocoon. But what was the smaller object beside the cocoon? His heart stood still as he recognized the slender form of Vernia, and saw that a young scorpion, which had evidently just emerged from the cocoon, was crawling toward her.

Although the newly hatched monster was not more than six feet from Vernia, and he could not shoot without endangering her, he knew that there was nothing else to do. Accordingly, he brought his tork to bear on the hairy youngster, and fired. There was a muffled explosion, and the menace was removed. But now he saw another pair of chelae emerging from the cocoon. Again he fired, and the second young scorpion was blown to bits. He watched for a moment, but as no more appeared, decided that the other eggs had not yet hatched, and set about trying to find a way to climb to where Vernia was suspended.

The stickiness of the web made this almost impossible, until he thought to utilize the dust and debris which littered the door. Catching this up in double handfuls, he flung it against the section of the web which he wished to climb, and found, as he hoped, that it prevented the adhesive surface of the strands from clinging to his hands and feet.

Swiftly he climbed up to Vernia, cut the surrounding strands, and as swiftly descended to the floor with his burden. With his knife he quickly slit open the wrappings and found his wife, limp, and apparently lifeless. He opened her great fur cloak, and the sight of several scratches on her white skin engendered the fear that she had been poisoned by the venom of the monster. But when he held his ear to her breast, he was relieved to hear her heart beating.

With a handful of snow taken from the cave mouth, be touched her temples. The cold shock revived her. She looked about wildly for a moment; then, recognizing Grandon, she relaxed contentedly in his arms.

"Are you hurt dear?" he asked.

"Only a few scratches, Bob," she replied. "It was the fright that made me swoon. When I saw that young strid coming toward me, as I hung there helpless, and realized that its purpose was to devour me, I fainted. Let me rest for a little while, and I'll be ready to walk."

"Perhaps you won't need to walk," said Grandon. "One zandar appears to be alive. I'll see if I can cut it down."

Utilizing the dust as he had done before, Grandon succeeded in making a path up the web for himself to where the zandar bung beside the immense cocoon. With his scarbo, he first cut the heavy, rope-like strands above it. Then, as the great bulk of the beast swung downward, he cut the cross strands in succession, and with each cut, the zandar descended a little further. When at last the beast was on the floor, it was still helpless because of the thorough manner in which it had been trussed: But its heaving flanks showed that it was still very much alive, and not a little frightened by the experience it had just gone through. Employing his knife, Grandon quickly cut the strands which held it, and it struggled to its feet, trembling and panting heavily.

"It seems unhurt," said Vernia, who had recovered from her faintness and come over to watch the proceedings.

"Its legs are sound, at any rate," replied Grandon.

The beast followed them docilely enough through the mouth of the cave. Then, after helping Vernia into the saddle Grandon returned for a moment, to apply his flame-maker to the bottom of the web. It caught fire with a roar, and be plunged out of the cave followed by a billowing cloud of black, oily smoke.

"That will do for the rest of the ugly brood," he said as he came up beside Vernia.

He was about to mount behind her, when he suddenly saw, riding swiftly toward them, a large band of warriors mounted on zandars. They were not Ibbits, as he could see at a glance, but Huitsenni, and had evidently heard his tork fire and come to investigate. Instantly the riders deployed in a wide semi-circle, cutting off all possibility of escape across the snow. As they could not climb the sheer face of the cliff behind them, nor retire into the cave, which was now belching great clouds of acrid smoke, they remained where they were, Vernia still in the saddle, and Grandon beside her.

Had he been alone, Grandon would have resisted desperately, but he knew that if he should use his tork the enemy would retaliate in kind, and Vernia might be injured or slain. A moment more, and he was looking into the mouths of fully a hundred torks leveled at him by a closely packed semicircle of riders. Then the mojak in command ordered a halt, and called out to Grandon: "Surrender, in the name of the Rogo of Huitsen, or we fire."

Seeing that resistance was useless, Grandon unbuckled the belt which contained his weapons, and flung it on the snow in front of him. Then he clasped his hands behind his head in token of surrender.

At the order of the mojak, two men descended and swiftly bound him, hand and foot. Then he was slung across the saddle-bow of one of the riders as if he had been a sack of grain, and the cavalcade rode away. Vernia was not bound, but was permitted to retain her place in the saddle with a guard on each side of her.

Several hours later, it seemed to Grandon that all of Huitsen had turned out to stare at the two prisoners that their riders were bringing in, so dense were the crowds along the streets. Their captors took them straight to the palace, where they were deprived of their Ibbit furs, which were not needed here in the warm lowlands. Then the mojak, quite obviously proud of his success, led them to the throne room, each guarded by two of his warriors.

Up to the time they were ushered into that vast room, Grandon had entertained the hope that one of the Chispoks had succeeded Yin Yin, but his hopes were dashed as he recognized the individual who squatted in the center of the crystal throne. It was the bestial Thid Yet, former Romojak of the Navies of Huitsen. Like his predecessor, he was surrounded by numerous attendants and nobles, and his gross body was loaded with flashing jewels. The porcine monarch grinned toothlessly as they were brought before him.

"It is apparent that our men have persuaded Your Majesties to avail yourselves once more of our cordial if humble hospitality," he said. "We are honored."

"Your Majesty's warriors have persuasive ways," replied Grandon. "Perhaps, now that you are Rogo, we can persuade you to permit us to depart to our own torrogat, where duty calls us."

"Perhaps," replied Thid Yet, dipping his thumb into a spore pod which one of the former slave girls of Yin Yin presented and thrusting the red spores into his fat cheek. "Just what is your proposition?"

"Say, a million keds of gold."

"Humph! We are offered more for Her Majesty alone."

"Two million."

"Not enough."

"Three-"

"Wait," interrupted Thid Yet. "You but waste your breath. Her Majesty will remain here as was previously arranged, until it is time to take her to the rendezvous. Though she has been deprived of the pleasure of Yin Yin's company, we trust that we will make a satisfactory substitute."

"Why you-!" Grandon would have sprung at the throat of the man on the throne had he not been seized by the guards.

"One moment, Majesty. Permit me to finish. We are grieved that we can not entirely comply with your request, yet we will in part fulfill it."

"In part?"

"Yes. We will permit you to leave, but not for your own country. Although you left no witnesses we have considerable evidence that it was you who beheaded our just and generous predecessor. We also remember that it was due to you that we nearly lost our own head. So we will allow you to leave-will, in fact, speed you on your way, for it would be dangerous to have you near us. But instead of sending you to your own torrogat, we will dispatch you to the Kingdom of Thorth."

Thorth being the Kingdom of Heaven, he beckoned to one of the two brawny guards who stood behind the throne-their immense two-landed scarbos much in evidence. "Come, Ez Bin. Clip me the head from this fine fellow, and see that you cut it cleanly, as I would retain it for a souvenir."

Swinging the heavy scarbo to his shoulder, the headsman marched forward. Grandon was quickly forced to his knees by his two guards. Ez Bin took a position beside him, tested the keenness of his blade with his thumb, and carefully measured the distance and position of Grandon's neck, closing one eye and squinting the other. Then, with the swift assurance of an expert, he raised his blade.

Vernia, who had been watching the scene, too horrified even to utter a sound, covered her eyes with her hands. Then she suddenly went limp in the hands of her two guards.

XVIII. The Allies Attack

IN THE FLAGSHIP of Zinlo of Olba rode Kantar the Gunner and Narine, looking down at the city of Huitsen through several feet of the lowest cloud stratum. The ship was flying in this stratum that it might remain invisible to the Huitsenni in the streets below, yet be able to keep watch. The offensive which the allies had planned the day before was now scheduled to take place.

Ten thousand of Reabon's brave warriors, guided by the Chispoks that San Thoy had selected, were converging on the city in an immense semicircle, and five thousand more, a contingent of Reabonian artillery, had their mattorks ready to make breaches in the walls and lay a barrage in front of the infantry as soon as the charge should commence or the enemy discover their presence.

Zinlo, who had been looking over the scene with his glass, said: "I wonder what has become of San Thoy and the two pirate vessels he was so positive he could bring through the gate. I see no sign of them in the canal. And our fleets still ride at anchor outside, waiting for our signal."

"Perhaps we should fly down and investigate," suggested Narine.

"Hardly," replied Kantar. "They would be sure to see us and precipitate a battle before we are ready."

"There's nothing to do but wait," said Zinlo, impatiently.

Meanwhile, San Thoy, standing in the commander's cabin of the foremost of the two ships which had been converted to the purpose of the allies, its crew augmented by a band of Reabonian warriors who kept out of sight below decks, and which was just then entering the fiord which led to Huitsen, was issuing swift orders to the mojak of the vessel. "Put three men on each oar," he commanded. "The steel bar which we are to drop between the stone gates to prevent their closing after us, is dragging on the bottom."

"Can we not raise it a trifle?" asked the mojak.

"No, idiot. The guardians are already watching us. To touch those chains now would make them suspicious. Do as I say, and quickly, for the time for the offensive is almost at hand."

Under the added propulsion of the extra rowers, the boat moved slowly forward, dragging the heavy steel bar which the smiths of the fleet of Reabon had forged especially for this occasion by working all the previous night. Behind it came the second pirate ship, manned like the first by Chispoks culled from the two crews and a concealed contingent of Reabonian warriors. Its mojak, puzzled by the slow progress of the ship ahead, ordered his rowers to back water and wait until a suitable distance should be established between the two ships.

As San Thoy's vessel approached the massive stone gates, they did not open. Instead, there came a hail from one of the guardians.

"What ails you? Why do you move so slowly?

"We were crippled in a battle with the Reabonian fleet," replied San Thoy. "Our hold is filling with water. Let us through quickly or we will sink and block the channel."

There was some delay. Evidently the guardians were not entirely satisfied with San Thoy's explanation. The mojak knew that they were being subjected to minute scrutiny from above.

"Fools!" he cried, at length. "Open the gate or the channel will be closed to all our ships. We are sinking rapidly. Besides, the enemy follows closely. Would you have them find us here?"

Evidently his words, or the fact that their rigging and upper works were damaged by shell-fire, decided the guardian's, for the gates slowly slid apart.

San Thoy snapped an order to the rowers. "Pull, men, with all your might."

The channel was quite shallow here, and the bar dragged heavily, but the men worked with a will. Soon the boat was half through the gateway. "Now," commanded San Thoy, "let go the bar."

The chains were released, and struck the water with a loud splash.

"Ho, sailors. What was that you dropped?" one of the guards shouted from above.

Freed from the heavy drag of the bar, the ship shot forward under the exertion of the rowers. At the same time, its mattorks were trained on the grotto above, where the guards manipulated the machinery that worked the gates and kept watch for ships. Without replying to the question of the guard, the Chispoks opened fire.

The guards were sheltered behind a wall of stone, and in addition, were armed with mattorks. These instantly went into action, replying to the guns of San Thoy's ship and riddling her upper works with shells.

The second ship had, meanwhile, come up more slowly. Warriors clung to her masts and rigging. As she came halfway through the gate, she dropped anchor. The men in the rigging flung grappling-hooks up over the walls, and swarmed up the ropes. Many were hurled back, but enough succeeded in getting over to quickly conquer the guards. Then a mojo with twenty men took charge of the gate, and the two ships passed on through the immense black cavern.

Swiftly San Thoy ran to the foredeck of his craft. With an immense brush and a can of red pigment, he painted the word "open" in patoa, so it could be seen from the air. A moment later his craft nosed out into the canal. He dropped anchor about five hundred feet from the mouth of the cave and waited. Presently the other ship came up and anchored beside him.

A mojak with a company of warriors, whose duty it was to patrol the canal bank, came hurrying up and hailed him. "What was that firing?" he asked.

"We were pursued by the Reabonians," San Thoy replied. "They nearly had us. We just got through the gates in time."

"But did they not see the gates? Perhaps the secret way is not known to them."

Perhaps, agreed San Thoy.

"You have lied to me," accused the mojak. "That firing was inside the cave."

"Go and see for yourself," suggested San Thoy.

"I will. Let me take a boat."

"Not you. You are too uncivil."

"Then I'll take one by force."

"Try it." San Thoy waved his hand, and fully two-score mattorks were trained on the mojak and his warriors. At this, the officer turned and whispered to a fat mojo who stood beside him. The fellow evidently counseled retreat, for they turned and marched away, leaving only a dozen men to watch the ships.

"They go to warn the city," said San Thoy's mojo.

"What odds?" replied San Thoy. "The mojak will order an investigation. A body of troops will be mobilized and marched back here. By that time our allies will have arrived, and the Reabonian army will be storming the city. Zinlo must have seen our signal, long since, and notified the fleets of Reabon, Tyrhana, and Adonijar."

Zinlo, in his aerial battleship, had ordered his commander to soar to the southeast of the city of Huitsen. They were hovering just above the ship canal. Kantar and Narine were watching the landscape below through one of the keel windows.

"Look!" cried Narine. "A ship is coming out of the cave."

Zinlo, who had been consulting with Lotar, seized his glasses and leveled them on the ship.

"It's San Thoy," he announced, "and the way is open. To the flagship of Ad, Lotar."

The ship shot forward with a tremendous burst of speed. In less than a minute it was far out over the Azpok, where the ships of the allies waited. The foremost of these was the flagship of Ad of Tyrhana.

With a swiftness that made Kantar's ears ring, the airship dropped. It came to a stop beside Ad's flagship as lightly as if it had fallen into a bed of thistledown.

Zinlo opened a side door. Not twenty feet from him, Ad stood on the foredeck of his fighting-craft.

"The way is open," announced the Prince of Olba.

"Good! I'll see you in the palace of Huitsen," replied Ad. Then he waved his hand to a sailor, who instantly ran a pennant to the masthead. Almost immediately, similar flags were hoisted by the other ships, showing that they had caught the signal. Then the sails were unfurled, and with the assistance of a swift landward breeze, the allied flotillas rapidly made their way toward the secret entrance to Huitsen.

Once more the flagship of Zinlo darted back above the city, this time just over the lowest cloud stratum. Here the air fleet of Olba hovered, waiting orders. The Torrogo's signal man stood forth on the deck just in front of the forward turret. In his right hand he held an immense red disk, and in his left, a yellow. He began making motions with one, then the other, then both, repeating them in numerous combinations which were evidently understood by the mojaks of the other battleships, as they immediately moved from their places and formed an immense circle which corresponded to the circumference of the city beneath. There they hovered, awaiting further orders.

Zinlo's own ship dropped once more into the lowest cloud stratum, high enough to be out of sight, but low enough so that he could watch developments. Presently another ship dropped down beside him. He opened a side door, and the commander of the ship did likewise.

"What news?" asked Zinlo.

"We caught up with the column of Ibbits, Your Majesty," replied the mojak. "Their Majesties of Reabon were not with them. The officer in command swore that Grandon of Terra had slain their Rogo and ridden away with his wife. He said they would have followed, but a blizzard obliterated the trail, so they decided to continue southward, bearing the body of their Rogo."

"Then what did you do?"

"We circled the snowy plain in all directions, and presently found a trail. From the tracks and kerra juice which spattered the snow, we knew it was the trail of a party of Huitsenni, mounted on zandars. It led us to the mouth of a cave, before which an enormous white strid lay dead. Inside the cave we found the smoldering remains of a web, the charred carcasses of three young strids, and a number of charred eggs.

"On coming out, however, we noticed and followed another trail, which led from a near-by cave. It was the trail of a man and woman. They had not returned to the cave from which they had come, neither were their remains in the cave of the strid; so we judged they had been captured by the party of mounted Huitsenni. The fact that the return trail of the yellow men led straight back to the city confirmed our belief."

"You have done well," said Zinlo. "Now take your squadron and get into the formation above. I'll signal you when to descend." He closed the door.

Kantar, who had been listening to the conversation, said: "Your Majesty, I have a favor to ask."

"Name it," replied Zinlo. "You will deserve any favor within my power to confer."

"I would be set on one of the balconies of the palace of Huitsen, with two men to assist me."

"Impossible," replied Zinlo. "Our plans would be betrayed, and we would lose every advantage which a surprise attack would bring us."

"I am convinced, Majesty," said Kantar, "that their Majesties of Reabon are prisoners in the palace. Grandon of Terra slew Yin Yin, Rogo of Huitsen. Under the circumstances, Yin Yin's successor can do no less than order his execution. Perhaps he has already done so, in which event I shall be too late. But I would be there to prevent it, if I can."

"What could three men do?"

"If I could reach one of the inner balconies that overlook the throne room with a man or two to guard my back and a tork in my hands, I could do much."

"You are right, Gunner. A tork in your hands is worth a hundred in the hands of ordinary men. And, after all, we're more anxious to save Grandon and Vernia than to take the city." He called to Lotar. "Send me two warriors. Then you will drop suddenly beside one of the outer balconies of the palace. As soon as the warriors have disembarked, you will swiftly return to this position."

"I hear and obey," replied Lotar.

Zinlo's orders were swiftly carried out.

Kantar bent over Narine's hand, but she snatched it free, and threw her arms around his neck.

"It may be that you go to your death, my brave gunner," she cried. "Hold me tight. Tell me again that you love me."

Zinlo halted the two warriors in the doorway. Then he coughed discreetly.

"We have arrived at the palace, Gunner. Come quickly, or we shall be shot down."

A side door was flung open. Her eyes sparkling with love and pride, Narine watched Kantar and the two warriors leap to the balcony. Then the door was closed, and before a single enemy mattork could be trained on it, the ship shot aloft and disappeared into the clouds.

Hovering there in the lower cloud stratum, Zinlo kept his glasses focused on the canal. Presently he cried: "There is Ads flagship. Another follows, and another. It is time for the offensive."

He turned and gave swift orders to Lotar. The flagship rose above the first cloud stratum where the fleet waited, still in circular formation. The signal man flashed his red and yellow disks. Then Zinlo's ship took a place in the circle and began spiraling downward. Behind it followed the entire air fleet.

As soon as the flagship was through the lower cloud stratum, its keel mattorks went into action. The mattorks of the fleet instantly followed suit. There was a burst of flame from the ground beneath them as the Reabonian artillery opened fire, and great breaches began appearing in the city walls.

Then a long shout went up, and the long line of Reabonian infantry, which had been waiting in hiding, sprang forward, the light glinting from the barrels of its torks, and from its scarbos and long-bladed spears.

The ship canal was now filled with enemy vessels, following one another in close formation. Entering the landlocked harbor were the two captured pirate vessels-the first commanded by San Thoy.

The vessels which were anchored in the harbor immediately opened fire, concentrating on these two ships. San Thoy's vessel was riddled by shell-fire, and began to sink rapidly. He instantly ran it up beside an anchored vessel, and leading his mixed crew of white and yellow warriors, boarded the new craft. Only a few sailors were aboard, and these were quickly cut down.

In the meantime, the mighty flagship of Ad of Tyrhana had nosed into the harbor. The withering blasts from its heavy mattorks literally blew some of the smaller pirate craft out of the water, and wrought havoc with the larger vessels.

It was closely followed by the huge flagships of Reabon and Adonijar, whose powerful mattorks were equally efficient. And close on the heels of these, crowded the battleships of the allied fleet.

One by one, every pirate vessel that offered resistance was sunk or captured. Soon the allies were in complete command of the harbor. This accomplished, they landed warriors under cover of a heavy barrage, took the docks and warehouses with virtually no resistance, and marched into the city.

In the meantime, the Reabonian infantry was meeting with desperate resistance around the city walls. Time and again, Grandon's brave warriors charged into the breaches made by their artillery, only to be hurled back by the desperate defenders.

Presently, however, a contingent of fighting Traveks, Grandon's fierce warriors from the-mountain fastnesses of Uxpo, broke through and charged straight for the palace.

The commander of the Huitsenni had anticipated just such an emergency, and was prepared to meet it. Mounted on zandars, firing their torks and brandishing their heavy scarbos, a yelling horde of reserves thundered straight at the charging Traveks.

The Uxponian mountaineers in the first line instantly knelt and presented their long-bladed spears, while their comrades immediately behind them fired over their heads at the swiftly approaching enemy. The two forces met with a terrific shock in which tough spear-shafts were splintered, scarbos flashed, and torks spat incessantly. In an instant the first line was a bloody shambles of dead and wounded men and zandars. At this point, wave after wave met, until the pile of dead, inextricably mingled with wounded men and maimed and struggling beasts, was so high that neither side could advance, both using it as a rampart over which to fire their torks.

The Reabonians, however, fighting shoulder to shoulder with their Uxponian brothers on either side, had quickly widened the breach made by the Traveks. Now they too, charged into the city, soon enveloping the mounted Huitsenni until all chance of retreat for the yellow cavalry was lost. Seeing that further resistance was hopeless, they threw down their arms, and clasped their hands behind their heads in token of surrender.

Leaving a few of their comrades to guard the prisoners and aid the wounded the Traveks again charged forward with the Reabonians, helping to drive the yellow infantry toward the palace. "For Grandon and Vernia!" they shouted. "Down with Huitsen!"

From beyond the palace, a tremendous cheer answered them, as the allied warriors from the battleships drove the Huitsenni back.

While his keel mattorks kept up a continuous bombardment of the yellow army beneath, Zinlo watched these beginnings of victory with satisfaction. Then he suddenly saw that for which he had been waiting. Out from those buildings surrounding and closest to the palace, and from the fishing holes in the vicinity, there appeared a swarm of Huitsenni, armed and dressed like the others, with the exception that each man wore a white scarf knotted around his neck and thrown over his shoulders.

Part of this new force charged straight for the palace, and the remainder formed a great skirmish line to cut off the approach of the retreating Huitsenni.

"It's the Chispoks!" cried Zinlo. "To the palace, Lotar."

XIX. The Duel

BACK IN THE throne room of Thid Yet, Rogo of Huitsen, Grandon, who had been forced to his knees by his two burly guards awaited the stroke of Ez Bin, the headsman. He saw the huge blade flash upward, and nerved himself for a mighty effort. As the two handed scarbo descended, he flung himself backward carrying both guards with him. The heavy blade crashed to the polished glass door, and many tiny cracks radiated from the point where it had struck.

Grandon instantly flung his right arm forward once more. The guard who clung to it tripped over the blade of Ez Bin, and losing his hold, fell on his face before the throne. His right arm now free, Grandon snatched the scarbo which depended from the belt of the other guard, and ran him through.

At this, one of Vernia's guards sprang forward and struck at Grandon with his scarbo. The Earth-man side-stepped the blow and countered with a slash to the head that stretched his opponent on the floor. In the meantime, Ez Bin had recovered his weapon, and made a terrific swing at Grandon's neck. Dodging beneath the blade, the Earth-man stabbed upward and thrust him through the throat. Then, before anyone could stop him, he sprang straight for the monarch who squatted on the throne.

With screams of terror, the slave girls scattered. But Thid Yet whipped out his scarbo and leaped to his feet. He had not been Rogo long enough to become fat and flabby like Yin Yin from easy living, nor was he a coward, but despite his great girth, a trained fighting man in the peak of condition, and the veteran of many hand-to-hand encounters which had made him the most feared duelist in Huitsen.

"Stand back," he shouted to the nobles and soldiers who had begun to crowd around. "Stand back and watch your Rogo carve the heart from this white-skinned slave who dares to attack the throne of Huitsen."

To the courtiers of Huitsen their ruler's word was absolutely law; so they fell back and made room for the two combatants. Nor were any of them worried as to the outcome. Thid Yet had not time to select any favorites from among those who stood about his throne, which he had seized with the assistance of the navy faction, nor had he, as yet, conferred any honors or, promotions. If he were slain, another would take his place, probably no better or no worse, and Grandon could easily be dealt with.

It was evident, as Thid Yet sprang forward to meet the Earth-man, that despite Grandon's reputation as a swordsman, he was positive he could easily best him-that it would be an opportunity to add to his laurels and convince the Huitsenni beyond all doubt that they were ruled by a brave man.

As their blades clashed, and Grandon felt the strength of his wrist and met the lightning speed of his attack, he knew he had an opponent worthy of his steel and that the outcome was indeed doubtful. Blood was drawn on both sides at the very start. First Thid Yet's point raked Grandon's cheek cutting a deep gash. Then the Earth-man countered with a swift head cut. The Rogo parried in time to save his head, but not his ear, which was shorn off by the blow.

The spectators cried out in delighted amazement at the swift and brilliant sword-play that followed. Trained from infancy in the use of the scarbo, these men of Huitsen knew that they were witnessing a duel the like of which they might never see again were they to live a dozen lifetimes. One after another, Grandon tried all the tricks he had learned from his old fencing master, Le Blanc, and from the numerous scarbo experts he had encountered. But thrust or cut as he would, the darting blade of Thid Yet was there to meet his, and to counter with a lightning slash or a swift reposte. Time and again Grandon received wounds which might have been fatal had he not succeeded in parrying them or springing back just in time. And for every wound he received, the yellow Rogo was dealt two, though he was equally successful in avoiding a fatal injury.

Bathed in blood and perspiration, the two contestants fought back and forth over an area that had become slippery with their own gore. Grandon's sword arm began to ache. His head swam dizzily. Loss of blood was beginning to sap his strength. He wondered how Thid Yet, who appeared to be losing more blood than he, could stand the terrific exertion. And wondering, he began to conserve his strength, to fight a defensive rather than an offensive battle, and to wait.

Presently the Earth-man felt the arm of his adversary begin to weaken. Still he fought cautiously, reserving his strength for a final effort-waiting. Suddenly Thid Yet extended his weapon in a vicious but clumsy thrust at Grandon's left breast. With a quick parry, and a narrow moulinet ending in a swift, drawing cut, the Earth-man brought his keen blade down on his opponent's extended wrist, shearing through muscle and bone. The scarbo of the Rogo clattered to the floor, his severed hand still clinging to the grip.

Thid Yet uttered a grunt of surprise and pain and stared at his spurting wrist for a moment as if he could not believe what he saw. Then he clamped the fingers of his left hand just behind the stump to stay the bleeding, and staggered backward, collapsed against the base of his throne.

In the uproar that followed, Grandon leaped back to where Vernia, who had recovered consciousness shortly after the duel commenced and watched it with bated breath, stood in the custody of her remaining guard. The fellow reached for his scarbo, but not quickly enough. He died with the blade half out of the scabbard and Grandon's point through his heart. With his left arm around his wife's slender waist, Grandon waved his bloody scarbo, menacing the nobles and warriors who were crowding around him.

One elevated his tork, but before he could use it, there was a report from an upper balcony, and he pitched forward on his face. A voice rang out from above them. "Back, all of you, and lay down your arms. The first to menace Their Majesties dies."

Looking up, Grandon saw Kantar standing on a balcony, his tork muzzle pointed over the railing. Behind him, two Olban warriors guarded the door.

A number of the nobles had rushed to Thid Yet's assistance. Two of them helped him to the throne, while a third tightly bound his wrist with a strip of silk torn from his own cloak. The cat-like eyes of the Rogo glittered with hatred.

"Shoot them," he groaned. "Slay them all."

A noble reached for his tork, followed by two more. But as swiftly as they went for their weapons, the tork of the gunner spoke. One after another they sank to the floor. The lesson was not lost on the others. Most of them quickly complied with Kantar's request by opening their belts and letting their weapons drop to the floor. Then they clasped their hands behind their heads in token of surrender. A few guards who had rushed in from the outer corridors to learn the cause of the disturbance, quickly followed their example.

"What's this?" cried Thid Yet. "Is my entire court to be captured by a single marksman?" He reached for his own tork. Then a bullet drilled him neatly between the eyes and he slumped forward, dead.

This settled the matter for those who had hesitated to obey the commands of the sharp-shooting gunner. They all dropped their weapons and clasped their hands behind their heads.

Leaving one of his companions to cover the group while the other still watched the door, Kantar dropped from balcony to balcony until he reached the floor. Scarcely had his feet touched its mirrored surface when a terrific bombardment commenced outside. He ran over to where Grandon and Vernia stood, and made obeisance.

"What's all the shooting about outside?" asked Grandon.

"Your Majesty's warriors are attacking the city," replied Kantar, "under cover of a barrage from the artillery. The air fleet of Olba is also bombarding the city, as are the ships of Reabon, Tyrhana, and Adonijar, which are now fighting their way into the harbor and coming up the canal."

"But you! Where did you come from with these Olban warriors? Did you drop from the sky?"

"In truth, I did, Majesty. Zinlo of Olba, at my request, dropped me on one of the outer balconies of the palace with these two warriors. His airship was not fired upon, as it came and went so suddenly that the Huitsenni had no time to train their heavy mattorks on it. I hoped to find you here, as a squadron sent to follow the party of Ibbits with whom Your Majesties were supposed to be traveling, returned to report that you were not with them. I feared that your lives would be put in jeopardy by the attack, and so came before the assault. By arguing with our scarbos, we convinced several yellow guards who barred our way that we had important business with the Rogo of Huitsen. Then we came to the inner balcony."

"You came in the nick of time, Gunner," said Grandon, "and I'm eternally grateful. Now, let's get out of here."

The gunner signaled to the Olban warrior on the balcony. He called to his companion, and the two dropped from balcony to balcony under the protection of the watchful gunner's tork, until they reached the floor.

"What shall we do with these prisoners, Majesty?" asked Kantar, indicating the group of disarmed nobles, officers, and slaves who still stood with their hands clasped behind their heads.

Grandon thought for a moment. "We'll take them with us," he decided. "It is the only way. Let the two Olban warriors bind their hands behind their backs."

While the members of the group were being bound with strips torn from their own clothing, Grandon selected a tork and ammunition belt from the pile of weapons. He also exchanged his nicked and bloody scarbo for a jewel-hilted weapon which had belonged to one of the nobles. Vernia also armed herself, and the two assisted Kantar to keep watch on the balconies and doorways. But it soon appeared that there was no need for this. Evidently the thunder of the conflict outside had prevented the palace inmates from taking any interest in what went on in the throne room.

As soon as the prisoners had been bound, Grandon divided them into two groups, one to march before them, and one behind. Then, with Grandon and Kantar covering the group that marched before and the two Olbans walking backward with their torks trained on those who came behind, they passed out into the corridor which led to the main gate.

They had scarcely moved twenty feet along this corridor, when a considerable body of Huitsenni, wearing white scarves around their necks, poured in from a side corridor. Grandon instantly elevated his tork, but Kantar, recognizing the white scarves as the symbol previously agreed upon, stayed his hand.

"Don't shoot, Majesty," he said. "These are friends." He called to the advancing warriors. "Ho, Chispoks. We are brothers and allies. Relieve us of these prisoners."

"Gladly, brothers. We were sent by Han Lay to rescue you, and assist in taking the palace but you have evidently been able to take care of yourselves."

"Is the palace taken?" Grandon asked the mojak of the band.

The officer bowed low. "No, Majesty. But it soon will be. Already a thousand of the brotherhood have come in through the boat entrances, and they are fighting their way to the top. Five thousand more are storming the gates on the street level, and the rest stand ready to cut off the retreating army of Thid Yet."

Then my soldiers have broken through?"

"They have, Majesty, and drive the army of the false Rogo before them like frightened frellas, while the warriors from the ships close in from the other side."

"The false Rogo is now a dead Rogo," Grandon told him. "But where is Han Lay?"

"He was to lead the charge on the palace gate, so it is there he will be if he has not fallen."

"Then let us charge through from the inside. It will make victory swifter and easier."

"But most of my men are fighting on the upper floors."

"Never mind. Can you spare twenty?"

"Assuredly. Fifty."

"Splendid! I will lead them." He turned to the two Olbans, who, relieved of their prisoners, awaited orders. "Guard Her Majesty well," he commanded. Then to Kantar. "Come, Gunner."

Followed by the fifty men whom the mojak had detailed to accompany them, Grandon and Kantar led the charge through the entrance, and straight into the melee where the palace guards strove with the Chispoks at the gate. For some minutes the guards, beset from both sides, offered halfhearted resistance. Then one by one they threw down their weapons and clasped their hands behind their heads. The attacking Chispoks surged in, with Han Lay at their head.

"I rejoice to find you alive, Majesty," said Han Lay, rendering the royal salute to Grandon.

"And I, you, Your Majesty soon to be," replied Grandon, returning his salute.

Suddenly a string of aerial battleships dropped down from the sky and circled the palace. Swiftly their mattorks silenced the weapons of those who fired at them. Then they sailed up to the balconies at the various levels, and Olban warriors poured down their aluminum stairways into the palace. The leading airship settled beside the palace gate. The steps dropped and down them came Zinlo and Narine.

Grandon and Zinlo saluted each other in the Zorovian fashion, then puzzled those who stood around them by enthusiastically shaking hands, a purely earthly demonstration which was unknown on Venus.

"I see that you are in at the kill, in spite of the fact that we couldn't notify you," said Zinlo.

"Decidedly," replied Grandon. "Where are Ad and Aardvan?"

"Coming. They have just accepted the surrender of the Romojak of Huitsen, and will be here in a moment."

Grandon presented Han Lay to Zinlo and Narine. Then Vernia came out, accompanied by her two Olban guards, and to her he was also presented.

A moment later, three men strode up to the palace gate, a half-dozen warriors making way for them through the vast multitude that had gathered there. They were Ad of Tyrhana, Aardvan of Adonijar, and San Thoy. Grandon held a short conference with his allies. Then, accompanied by Han Lay, he mounted to the top step of the aluminum stairs which led to Zinlo's flagship. It was a position from which he could command a view of the entire crowd, and be seen by them.

"People of Huitsen," he shouted. "First of all, I want to tell you, and I speak on behalf of my allies as well as myself, that we are not here to exact tributes or reparations, nor to gloat over a prostrate foe. On the contrary, we wish to establish friendly relations with the people of Huitsen-relations that will last through the years. The officer and renowned warrior who stands here beside me is willing to meet the conditions which will best foster these relations, namely, an abolition of piracy, the freeing of all slaves who have been acquired by buccaneering and coastal raids, and the entry of Huitsen into peaceful commerce with the other nations of this planet.

"Being in full accord with these policies, we will withdraw our warriors as soon as a treaty is concluded with him, if you will acclaim him your Rogo. What is your pleasure?"

"Han Lay for Rogo," shouted a warrior, and the shout was taken up by a thousand throats.

Presently Grandon held up his hand for silence. When the clamor had ceased, he said: "Have you any other candidates to propose?"

No one spoke. He waited for a moment. "Then acclaim him," he cried.

"Hail Han Lay, Rogo of Huitsen!" roared the crowd, as with one voice.

When the shouting had subsided to a murmur, Grandon turned to Han Lay, and said: "I have a suggestion, Your Majesty. There is one who, though he has his little weaknesses, has been largely instrumental in the consummation of this glorious victory. I refer to San Thoy, and recommend that he be suitably rewarded."

The new Rogo beckoned to San Thoy, who came and made obeisance before him.

"Rise, San Thoy, Romojak of the Navies of Huitsen," said Han Lay.

Then he and Grandon descended the ladder, and amid the cheering of the populace, the royal group, attended by their officers and guards, went into the palace.

As they entered, Han Lay, who was walking beside Grandon, said: "What of this lascivious Rogo who was the cause of Her Majesty's abduction? Can we be of assistance in bringing him to justice?"

"You can, decidedly," replied Grandon. "I had already thought of a plan. I should like to borrow one of your largest vessels complete with officers and crew, with San Thoy in command. Also if you can furnish me with a sculptor who can make a life-like image of one who will pose for him, say in wax, or some such material, I shall be able to complete my plans without great difficulty."

"These are but trifles," protested Han Lay. "A ship will be put at your disposal immediately, and within the hour a dozen such sculptors as you require will await your pleasure."

"Excellent! As soon as I have had these scratches dressed, I'll explain my plan to you."

XX. Retribution and Reward

TEN DAYS HAD elapsed since the fall of Huitsen. On the day following their victory, the ships and warriors of the allies had sailed away. Only a part of the Olban air fleet remained, while Grandon, Vernia, Zinlo, Loralie, Kantar, and Narine stayed at the palace as the guests of the new Rogo. Now Han Lay stood on the palace steps, surrounded by his nobles and officers, to bid his friends farewell.

Zinlo's flagship had descended to the ground, and two of its aluminum staircases had been lowered. Up one of these a number of Huitsenni struggled with two heavy, coffin-like chests, and passed them to the waiting Olbans.

Farewells were said, and, one by one, Han Lay's guests mounted the other stairway. The stairs were raised, the doors were closed, and the mighty airship shot skyward, while the people cheered and the palace mattorks thundered a farewell salute.

At an elevation of about two thousand feet, the flagship darted seaward, followed by the fleet, which had been hovering above the palace.

Installed in his luxurious cabin, Zinlo's guests sipped kova and chatted gayly. Having seen to their comforts, the Torrogo of Olba climbed to the forward turret to note their progress.

Presently Grandon joined him. "Are you sure we can catch San Thoy before he reaches the rendezvous," he asked.

"Positive,". Zinlo replied. "We have already covered half the distance."

"Marvellous! How fast will these things go, anyway?"

"Earth distance and time, about a thousand miles an hour. In Olba, the speed is reckoned in rotations of the planet at its equator, or fractions thereof. Our smallest and slowest ships make at least a quarter of a rotation. This one can easily do a rotation."

"I thought the shoreline of Huitsen receded pretty fast, but I didn't know it was quite that speedy. Look! We're passing over a fleet, now."

"That's Ad of Tyrhana, ready to attack Zanaloth from the south. See that fleet over to the west? That's Aardvan spoiling for a fight. Your own ships are over at your right, and the fleet that set sail from Reabon under your orders should be within twenty-five miles of the north coast of the Island of the Valkars by now."

"Why, there's San Thoy's ship, already."

"Right. We'll ascend and do a little scouting before we drop you off."

He gave several swift orders to his Romojak. Then the entire fleet of aircraft shot skyward, and entered the lowest cloud stratum.

Looking down through the thin veil of vapor, Grandon presently descried an island, the Island of the Valkars. Anchored off its tiny harbor was a single battleship, flying the flag of Mernerum. But behind a jutting promontory, only a little way off, fully fifty big battleships lurked.

"It's just as you thought," said Zinlo, at sight of the concealed ships. "Either Zanaloth was afraid of treachery on the part of the Huitsenni, or he intended treachery toward them. He came prepared for trouble, in any event."

They cruised toward the north a few minutes longer, and Grandon saw another fleet, consisting of fully a hundred splendid battleships, the pride of Reabon's navy, sailing toward the island. Zinlo saw them, too, and immediately gave orders to turn back.

"All is ready," he said. "Now, if you still insist, I'll put you on San Thoy's ship, but I can't for the life of me see the sense of it. We've got them bottled up, anyway, and it won't be much of a job to lick them."

"I'll tell you why I insist on carrying out my plan," replied Grandon. "It's the only way I can make sure of meeting my worst enemy face to face."

"I see. You want the pleasure of killing him, yourself. Well I don't blame you."

They paused, at this moment, above the bat-winged vessel which Han Lay had lent to Grandon, and Zinlo gave orders for them to descend.

Lightly the airship dropped beside the vessel. Grappling-irons were tossed aboard, and the two stairways let down. Grandon bade his friends good-bye, and took Vernia in his arms. She clung to him at the door-begged him not to go.

"You are putting your head in the mouth of a marmelot," she said. "Why not capture him first, then deal with him afterward? I'm afraid for you."

"And I," replied Grandon, "am afraid he might otherwise escape me. This way, he will not."

As he descended the ladder, San Thoy stood on the deck to greet him, mumbling kerra spores and grinning toothlessly. In the meantime, the two casket-like chests which had been brought in the airship were lowered to the deck of the vessel. The stairs were drawn up and the grappling irons cast off.

Grandon waved farewell to his friends, and entered the cabin of the bowing San Thoy.

Zanaloth, dissolute Torrogo of Mernerum, sat at the gold-topped table in the luxurious cabin of his flagship, sipping kova. Oglo, Romojak of the Imperial Navy, stood at attention, awaiting his pleasure.

Presently the dissipated Torrogo turned his bloated countenance toward his chief naval officer, and said: "The time is nearly at hand, Oglo. Are you positive that everything is ready?"

"Positive, Your Majesty. A thousand warriors are concealed in the hold, awaiting instructions. Our fleet lurks in readiness to come to us under full sail at the boom of the first mattork."

Zanaloth emptied his kova bowl and smacked his thick, sensuous lips. "Very good. Very good, indeed. If the pirates come in a single ship, as we agreed, we can capture it. If they mean treachery, and have other vessels standing by to attack us, they will be easily taken care of by our battle fleet.

"Now let us review your instructions, so there will be no mistakes. As soon as the pirates display the royal prisoner, we will request that she be brought aboard our vessel. They, on their side, will no doubt insist that the gold be transferred to their ship. We will agree to this, and begin transferring the gold. But as soon as the Princess of Reabon is safely inside this cabin, I will enter in and close the door. That will be your signal to attack. Let the warriors take the place of the gold-passers and charge into the other ship. See that you have plenty of grappling irons aboard her, so she cannot slip away from us. And don't forget to go into action immediately with the mattorks, so the battle fleet will know they are to start at once."

"To hear Your Majesty is to obey," replied Oglo.

"And remember. Every man aboard the pirate vessel must die. If need be, we will sink their ship, but first we must try to get back what gold has been taken aboard her. As for the slaves we are supposed to have put ashore for them, the pirates will not live to look for them. We will have both the girl and the gold, and the Rogo of Huitsen will perhaps guess that he has been beaten at his own game, but he will have no proof."

"I will not forget Majesty."

"If your head fails you in this, I promise it will no longer remain on your shoulders to trouble you. Go, now, and watch for that ship."

Oglo made profound obeisance, and withdrew.

Zanaloth fidgeted impatiently. Presently he quaffed another bowl of kova and getting ponderously to his feet, paced the floor.

Suddenly the door was flung open, and Oglo, bowing on the threshold announced breathlessly: "A sail, Majesty! A pirate sail!"

Zanaloth grunted. "So! They come to the rendezvous at last."

He squeezed his ample girth through the doorway, and walked forward, Oglo following at a respectful distance. Then he took the glass which his romojak obsequiously proffered, and focused it on the approaching vessel. Traveling under full sail before a stiff breeze, it was making considerable speed.

"Bones of Thorth!" he exclaimed. "We must save that splendid ship, if possible. It flies over the water like an ormf. A few alterations, and it will never be recognized."

As if its commander had no suspicion of treachery, the pirate ship sailed swiftly up to them, hove to, and dropped its anchors. An officer came out of a cabin, wearing the uniform of a romojak, and Zanaloth hailed him.

"Are you Thid Yet, Romojak of Huitsen," he asked.

"No, I am San Thoy, Romojak of Huitsen," was the reply. "Thid Yet is dead, and I have come to keep the rendezvous in his place."

"You have brought the royal slave-girl?"

"We have, Your Majesty. And what of the gold?"

"We stand ready to deliver it to you. But first let me see the royal prisoner."

"What of the slaves you were to place on the island for us?"

"They are there, under guard, awaiting your pleasure. But let us see your prisoner."

"Very well, Majesty."

San Thoy went into a cabin, and remained for several minutes. Then he came out, alone. "She has fainted, Your Majesty. Will you not come aboard and see her?"

"Hal What's this? Perhaps you have not brought her, after all."

"Well then, if you doubt my word, I'll have her carried out, so you may view her."

He raised his hand, and a mojak entered the cabin. He came out in a moment, followed by four Huitsenni, who bore a litter on which reposed the golden-haired, richly clad figure of a young woman.

Zanaloth stared until he was watery-eyed. Then he focused his glass on the recumbent figure and stared again.

"By the blood and body of Thorth!" he exclaimed to Oglo. "It is she. It must be. For nowhere on Zorovia is there beauty such as hers." To San Thoy he called: "I am satisfied. Let us draw the ships together with grappling irons. My men are ready to unload the gold."

Irons were quickly hurled from ship to ship, and the chains, drawn taut by hand-turned winches, gradually drew the two vessels together. This achieved gang-planks were dropped across, fore and aft, and Zanaloth's men began carrying bars of gold to the pirate ship from the after hold, to be checked, weighed, and received by members of the yellow crew.

For some time Zanaloth and San Thoy chatted across the rails. Then the latter said: "Nearly half the gold is unloaded. Shall we convey Her Majesty to the quarters you have provided for her?"

This was precisely what Zanaloth wanted, but he did not wish to appear too eager. "At your convenience," he replied. "The cabin behind me has been prepared for her."

San Thoy signaled to the officer who stood near the recumbent figure. The officer gave a command, and four Huitsenni took up the litter, while four more came out from the cabin and fell in behind them with a heavy, ornate chest about seven feet in length.

"What is in that chest?" asked Zanaloth, suspiciously.

"A few of Her Majesty's belongings," replied San Thoy. "Mostly wearing apparel and ornaments."

San Thoy himself crossed the gang-plank ahead of the others.

"This cabin?" he asked, indicating the door of Zanaloth's cabin.

"That is right. Just leave her in there, and I'll call the ship's doctor to attend her in a moment."

Zanaloth drank in the beauty of the recumbent girlish form as it was borne past him. "How still she is!" he thought. "Perhaps she is dead, and they have tricked me." But a searching look at the red lips and pink cheeks reassured him. "No corpse could have such bloom of life and health as this," he reasoned.

Under the supervision of their officer, the eight men placed the litter and the large chest in the cabin. Then they retired.

"You will excuse me," said Zanaloth, formally, "if I go to examine the merchandise I have purchased at so high a price."

"Assuredly," replied San Thoy. "I will, in the meantime, take a closer look at the gold with which it was purchased." He bowed low, with right hand extended palm downward, and turning, crossed the plank to his own ship.

Zanaloth watched his broad back with a supercilious sneer, until he had reached his own vessel. Then, with a significant glance at Oglo, he swung on his heel, and entering his cabin, slammed the door shut behind him. The boom of a mattork outside, instantly followed his action. It was succeeded by shouts, commands, shrieks, and groans, mingled with the popping of torks, the clash of blades, the scurrying feet on deck, and the rumble of mattorks. He smiled cunningly as he thought of the splendid prize which his concealed warriors would take so easily, and of the very slight expense at which he had been to secure the golden-haired beauty who lay at his mercy on the `litter before him.

He crossed the room, and kneeling, touched a rosy cheek. Then he drew back his hand with a sharp exclamation of surprise. The face was as hard and cold as if it had been hewn from marble.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and closed with a grip that made him wince. He was jerked to his feet, and spun around to face a tall, handsome stranger, who wore the scarlet of royalty and the insignia of the imperial house of Reabon.

"Who-who are you?" he stammered, his trembling voice barely audible above the din of battle outside.

"I am Grandon of Terra, Torrogo of Reabon, and husband of her whom you would have wronged-whose graven image you just now profaned by the touch of your filthy hand."

Behind Grandon, the ornate chest under which the four Huitsenni had staggered stood with the lid thrown back, empty. Zanaloth's gaze roved from this to the door, as he realized the manner in which Grandon had gained access to his cabin. He leaped for the door, but found it locked. Grandon reached in his belt-pouch and held up the key.

"Wha-what do you want?" asked Zanaloth.

"I have come for your head," replied the Earth-man, whipping out his scarbo. "On guard, if you have the manhood left to defend it."

With trembling fingers, Zanaloth drew his own scarbo. In his youth he had been accounted an excellent scarboman. But that day was long past. Years of dissipation and luxurious living had made him short of breath and flabby of muscle. And he knew that there were few, if any, of the most expert duelists on Zorovia who could meet Grandon of Terra, scarbo in hand, and live to boast of it. Only a trick, a sudden, unexpected move, might save him. He came on guard, but before the blades had touched, lowered his point.

"You may choose between-" Grandon began. But just then Zanaloth raised his weapon and lunged at his opponent's unprotected body. Grandon had no time to parry this vicious and cowardly thrust. Barely in time to avert disaster, he hurled himself to one side, so that the point only grazed him. Zanaloth automatically recovered his stance as Grandon now attacked. For a moment, it seemed to the Mernerumite that the blade of his opponent had wrapped itself around his own. Then his weapon was twisted from his grasp, and flew through the air alight in a corner of the cabin. Zanaloth started back, his eyes wide with terror, as the point of the Earth-man plunged straight for his breast. But Grandon stopped the thrust, and contented himself with merely touching his antagonist.

The din of battle had increased outside, but neither man heeded it.

"I suggest that you pick up your scarbo," said Grandon, "and that hereafter you keep a tighter grip on it."

Furtively watching his generous opponent, Zanaloth slunk to the corner and recovered his weapon. He knew that he could not hope to win this fight, that death had him marked for its own. Great beads of sweat standing out on his forehead betrayed the fear that gripped his craven heart.

At his left side, as at Grandon's, there hung a jeweled, gold-plated tork. Suddenly he lowered his left hand, gripped the weapon, and was about to press the firing-button when a projectile struck his wrist, numbing it, and paralyzing his fingers. With incredible swiftness, Grandon had again forestalled him.

Seeing that he had rendered the Mernerumite's tork hand useless, Grandon lowered his own weapon. "Since you can no longer fight with the tork," he said, politely, "perhaps we had best resume with the scarbo." He advanced, and once more their blades met. "I advise you," continued Grandon, mechanically cutting, thrusting, and parrying, "to guard well your head, as I have promised it to the Rogo of Huitsen. A little gift to recompense him for the loss of much gold and many slaves. But then the head of a Torrogo is a rare and truly royal gift, even if its intrinsic worth is trifling."

Zanaloth said nothing. He was fighting with all his strength, yet the Earth-man was only playing with him. Suddenly Grandon's blade flashed in a swift moulinet, touched the Mernerumite's neck, and was withdrawn, without so much as drawing blood. But to Grandon's surprise, his antagonist dropped his weapon and sank to the floor, limp, and apparently lifeless.

For some time the Earth-man stood there, waiting, suspecting a trick. But as his opponent continued motionless, he bent and felt a flabby wrist, then held his hand over the heart. There was no pulse. Zanaloth of Mernerum was dead, not slain by the scarbo, but by a weapon that is often more deadly, that always tortures before it kills-fear.

Grandon rose to his feet and sheathed his bloodless blade. Then, taking the key from his belt pouch, he opened the cabin door and stepped out on deck. San Thoy was waiting there to greet him. The fighting had ceased, and the Huitsenni worked side by side with his own Fighting Traveks who had been concealed in the hold of their ship. They were tossing the corpses of the slain Mernerumites overboard, tending the wounded, and guarding the prisoners.

A large aerial battleship dropped beside them. Grappling-irons were cast aboard, and an aluminum stairway was lowered. Zinlo stood in the doorway.

"The battle fleet of Mernerum has surrendered," he said. "Coming aboard?"

"Immediately," replied Grandon. With one foot on the stairway, he turned to San Thoy. "Good-bye, my friend," he said. "Come and visit me in Reabon. Oh, by the way! You will find the gift I promised Han Lay on the floor of Zanaloth's cabin. Present it to him with my compliments."

San Thoy bowed low, and grinned toothlessly, as Grandon mounted the stairs.

The next day, Grandon sat at the crystal-topped table in the drawing-room of his private apartments in the imperial palace of Reabon.

Bonal, his torrango, or prime minister, appeared in the doorway and made obeisance. "The messenger has arrived from Mernerum, Your Majesty," he announced.

"I'll receive him here," replied Grandon. "And by the way, Bonal, ask Zinlo of Olba to come in now. I want him to be present at the interview."

A few moments later, Bonal announced: "His Imperial Majesty, Zinlo of Olba, and Mojak Sed of the staff of Orthad, Supreme Romojak of Reabon."

Zinlo entered, followed by a young Reabonian officer. The Torroga of Olba took a seat at the table, and the democratic Grandon invited the young officer also to be seated, knowing it would not offend his equally democratic guest.

"You bring a message from Orthad?" Grandon asked.

"I do, Majesty. He bids me inform you that we took Mernerum with ease. The people were sick of the tyrannous Zanaloth, and most of them actually welcomed us. We were delayed only by the difficulties which arise in moving so large an army. The fighting was but desultory, and there were few casualties."

"What was the attitude of the nobles and officials?"

"They begged that Mernerum be annexed to Reabon, or if this should not comport with Your Majesty's wishes, that you name a competent Torrogo to rule them. So as soon as Kantar the Gunner arrived in the Olban airship, His Excellency named him Torrogo, in accordance with Your Majesty's commands. He was later acclaimed by the nobles, warriors, and people without a dissenting voice.

"What of the other ceremony?"

"It has been performed, Majesty. And Her Majesty invites all to attend the feast which will be held this evening."

"Did you bring with you a messenger from the new Torroga?"

"I did, Your Majesty. He awaits your permission to present his missive to Ad of Tyrhana."

"Good. You may go now. And send this messenger to me."

The mojak arose, and making the customary obeisance, withdrew.

"Thus far," Grandon told Zinlo, "our plot has worked out. It remains to be seen how Ad of Tyrhana will take the news." He called a guard. "Have Bonal usher in Their Majesties of Tyrhana and Adonijar," he commanded.

"I can tell you how Ad will take it," said Zinlo. "He'll take it as a marmelot takes a slap on the nose. But it was the only thing to do."

A moment later, Ad and Aardvan were ushered in by Bonal. A slave brought kova, and the four Torrogos were chatting merrily over their bowls when Bonal announced: "A messenger from Her Imperial Majesty for the Torrogo of Tyrhana."

"What's this?" exclaimed Ad. "I didn't know Zanaloth left a widow. And why should she send a messenger to me?"

"Perhaps an interview with the messenger will explain," rumbled the deep voice of Aardvan.

"True. Show him in, Bonal."

The messenger, who wore the uniform of a mojak of the Imperial Guards of Mernerum, made obeisance to all four of the rulers. His puzzled look showed that he did not know which one to address.

"I am the Torrogo of Tyrhana," said Ad. "I believe your message is for me."

"It is, Your Majesty." The mojak took a small scroll from his belt pouch and handed it to Ad. "From Her Imperial Majesty, the Torroga of Mernerum," he said.

Ad broke the seal and unrolled the missive. First he looked puzzled, then astounded, then fiercely angry. His face purpled and his brow contracted. "Blood of Thorth!" he exploded. "Narine has eloped with that young upstart of a gunner, and married him!"

"She could have done worse," soothed Grandon. "The gunner is now Torrogo of Mernerum."

"The little she-marmelot! The traitor! The ungrateful child! I'll disown her! I'll-I'll—"

"Tut, tut," said Aardvan. "I think she has made a splendid match."

"But what of Gadrimel? What of our pact that my daughter and your son should wed?"

"I don't like to mention this," replied Aardvan, "but Gadrimel picked up a slave-girl in Huitsen and brought her here with him. Zena, I believe he called her, an ex-concubine of Yin Yin's. I told him to get rid of her, and last night they both disappeared. Later, I learned that they had gone for a cruise in one of my ships."

"Um," grunted Ad, non-committally.

"So you see," continued Aardvan, "their marriage would have been impossible, anyway. Besides, we need no marriage to comment the firm friendship between us. And think, you will now have as an additional ally the wealthy and powerful Torrogo of Mernerum, your son-in-law."

"That's right, Your Majesty," said Zinlo. "Forgive the child, and let's pile into one of my ships and attend the wedding feast tonight, all of us."

"What! You, too? This has all the earmarks of a conspiracy," said Ad.

Grandon filled the kova bowls all around, then took up his own, and said: "My friends, let us drink to the health and happiness of the charming young bride and the lucky bridegroom."

Zinlo and Aardvan drained their bowls.

Ad hesitated for a moment, then caught up his own bowl and emptied it with apparent gusto. "Our work is done," he said. "The power of the pirates is broken, and the port of peril is no more. Let us on to the wedding feast."

THE END