Astounding Stories, February, 1931

by Various

  Phalanxes of Atlans

  BEGINNING A TWO-PART NOVEL

  _By F. V. W. Mason_

  _Agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs rippedand worried their prey._]

  [Sidenote: Only in dim legends did mankind remember Atlantis and theLost Tribes--until Victor Nelson's extraordinary adventure in theunknown arctic.]

  CHAPTER I

  The ice suddenly gave way under his foot, hurling Victor Nelsonviolently forward to lie in the deep snow at the bottom of a tinycrevasse, down which the merciless gale moaned like an anguisheddemon.

  "It's no use," he muttered bitterly. "We've fought hard, but we'redone for."

  He lay still, stupidly watching his breath form tiny beads of ice onthe ends of the fur which lined his parka. Until that moment he hadnot realized how thoroughly exhausted he was. Every muscle of hisstarved, bruised body ached unbearably. It wasn't so bad lying therein the soft snow. He could rest, then look later for the ice hummockbehind which the plane lay sheltered. Rest! That's what he needed, agood long rest.

  But deep within him, a primal instinct stabbed his waningconsciousness. "No," he gasped, and blinked his reddened eyes behindsmoked goggles which dulled the shimmer of the aurora. "If I stop,I'll never get up."

  Shaken by the terrific velocity of the arctic gale he numbly clamberedto his feet, then stooped with a stiff awkward motion to retrieve aWinchester rifle which lay half buried in the snow beside the blurredimprint of his body.

  "Wonder if Alden had any better luck?" The question burned dully inhis brain. "Don't suppose so; there can't be anything alive in thisGod-awful wilderness." As he stumbled on he found no answer in anunbroken vista of wind-scored ice and drifting snow that, swirlinghigh into the air, momentarily cut off the view of that black line ofice-capped mountains barely visible on the horizon.

  "Yes, if he hasn't found anything, we'll be dead or frozen stiffbefore to-morrow."

  * * * * *

  His soul--that of a true explorer--revolted, not at the thought ofdeath, but that his and Alden's courageously won discovery of amajestic mountain range towering high over a polar region marked"unexplored" on the maps would now never be made public.

  Leaning forward against the merciless icy blast he painfully pickedhis way over a treacherous ice ridge, to be faintly encouraged by thefact that the towerlike hummock of ice marking the position of theplane now lay but a few hundred yards ahead.

  Bitterly he cursed that demon of ill-fortune who had sent the blindingsnow storm which had forced down the plane ten long days ago at thevery beginning of its triumphant return flight to the base at CapeRichards. Since that hour the storm gods had emptied the vials oftheir wrath upon the luckless explorers. Day after day, cyclonic windsmade all thought of a take-off suicidal in the extreme. Three daysago the last of their food had given out, and, he mused, starvation isan ill companion for despair.

  Slip, slide and fall! On he fought until the final barrier was reachedand he stood staring hopelessly down into a small natural amphitheaterwhich sheltered the great monoplane. The ship was still there, itsengine snugged in a canvas shroud and with the soft, dry snow bankedup high in the lee of its silver gray fuselage. Numbly, like a man inthe grip of a painful coma, Nelson shielded his face with a furry handto scan the surrounding terrain. "Hell!" The door block of the igloothey had built was still snowed up; Alden was not there!

  "He's not back," he muttered, while his body swayed beneath the galewhich smote him with fierce, unseen fists. "Poor devil, I hope hehasn't lost the way."

  All the bitterness of undeserved defeat stung his soul as he starteddown the incline into the hollow.

  * * * * *

  Suddenly he paused. The rifle flew into the ready position and hischilled thumb drew back the hammer. "What's this?" On the snow at hisfeet was a bright, scarlet splash, dreadfully distinct against thewhite background. While his dazed brain struggled to register what hiseyes saw, he looked to the right and left and discovered several moreof the hideous spots. Then an object that gleamed dully in the polartwilight attracted his attention. He lumbered forward, stooped stifflyand caught up a long, half round strip of bronze.

  "What? Why? Oh--I'm crazy. I'm seeing things!" The pain in his emptystomach was now becoming excruciating. To steady himself he shut hiseyes, shook his head as though to clear it, then looked again at thatstrip of metal in his hand. Attached to it were two slender strips ofleather like straps, ending in small, bronze buckles.

  "Why, it's not from the plane," he stammered aloud. "Damned if itdoesn't look like a greave the old Greek warriors used to wear toprotect their shins."

  Suddenly alarmed and mystified beyond words, he shuffled forward overthe snow, the greave yet clutched in a fur gloved hand. Presently twomore objects, already half buried by the stinging, swirling drifts,caught his attention. One was the stock of Alden's rifle, protrudingstarkly brown from the unrelieved whiteness, and the other was abroken wooden shaft that ended a graceful but wickedly sharp bronzespear head.

  "I've either gone crazy," he said, "or I'm delirious. Yes, I must beclean nutty! There _couldn't_ be a human settlement within a thousandmiles. Let's see what's happened."

  * * * * *

  On the snow of a little wind-sheltered space behind the igloo hediscovered the unmistakable and ominous signs of a struggle. Anindefinite number of footprints, blurred but enormous in size, weremarked in the snow. Here and there deep furrows mutely testified howAlden and the enemies against whom he struggled had reeled back andforth in vicious combat over a considerable area. Then, shaken by anew fear, he discovered Alden's left glove and a rag of some peculiarthick material that seemed to have a metallic finish. But what arousedhis gravest fears were the numerous splashes of blood that here andthere streaked the snow in gruesome relief.

  Only a moment Nelson stood, shaken by the merciless wind, scanning thepiece of bronzed armor between his gloved hands with a fresh interest.It was beautifully fashioned, and decorated at the knee point with thewonderfully wrought figure of a dolphin.

  If he could only think clearly! But his brain seemed to lie in ared-hot skull. "Whatever's happened," he muttered, "I'd better notwaste time; they couldn't have been here so long ago. Poor Alden! Iwonder what kind of devils caught him?"

  * * * * *

  Even before he had finished the sentence the aviator had taken up thepartially obliterated trail of spattered blood drops. That what hesought appeared to be a maraudering party of giants restrained him notat all. The one clear thought burning in his weary brain was thatRichard Alden, his best friend--the man with whom he had traveled overhalf the world, by whose side he had faced many a periloussituation--must at that moment lie in peril, the extent of which hecould only surmise.

  "Must have been about a dozen of them," he said thickly. And, holdingthe Winchester ready, he commenced once more to plod on through thestinging sheets of wind-driven ice particles. More than once he hadgreat difficulty in not losing that crimson trail, for here and therethe restless, white crystals completely blotted out the splashes.

  All at once Nelson checked his pathetically slow progress, findinghimself on the top of an eminence, looking down in what appeared to bea vastly deep natural amphitheater of snow and ice. At the bottom, andperhaps a hundred yards distant, was a curious black oval from whichappeared to rise a dense, wind-whipped column of whitish vapor.

  "My eyes must be going back on me," muttered Nelson through stiffenedlips. How intolerably heavy his fur suit seemed! His strength wasabout gone and that curious black mouthlike circle seemed infinitelyfar away. But, spurred by fears for his friend, he started downwardfor the precipitious trail leading directly towards it.

  Once he stepped inside the crater, he became conscious of a terrificside pressure which gripped him as a whirlpool seizes a lucklessswimmer. The wind buffetted him from all angles, dealing him powerfulblows on face and body, which
, too strong for his weary body, sent himreeling weakly, drunkenly across the hard, glare ice towards thevortex. Twice he slipped, each time finding it harder to arise. Butat last he approached what on closer inspection proved to be asubterranean vent of black rock.

  "Steam!" he gasped. "It's steam coming out of there!"

  * * * * *

  Swayed by a dozen conflicting emotions, he paused, the Winchesterbarrel wavering like a reed in his enfeebled grasp.

  "The whole thing's crazy," he decided. "I must be frozen and lyingsomewhere, delirious. Poor Dick! Can't help him much now."

  Like a man in a nightmare who advances but feels nothing under hisfeet, Nelson staggered on towards that huge, gaping aperture of blackrock. On the threshold a pool of melted snow water made him stare.

  "Hell!" he said. "It's only a volcanic vent of some kind." Then dimlycame the recollection of Eskimo legends concerning thermal springsbeyond the desolate and unknown reaches of Grant Land.

  His mind in an indescribable turmoil, Nelson splashed across a hundredyards of sodden snow, then shivered on wading knee deep through a poolof melted ice. Now he stood on the very threshold of that awfulopening, dense clouds of vapor beating warmly against his chilledfeatures.

  His goggles fogged at once, blinding him effectively as, with reasonstaggering under the accumulated stress of starvation and thecircumstances of Alden's disappearance, he groped his way a few feetinto the vent. With his left hand he pulled up the glasses from hissunken, blood-shot eyes.

  "It's warm, by God!" he cried in astonishment as the skin exposed bylifting the goggles came in contact with the air. "Must be some kindof earth-warmed cave."

  * * * * *

  Increasingly mystified, he caught up his rifle and strode on down thepassage, at that moment illuminated by the last unearthly rays of theaurora borealis. A single, dazzling beam played before him like apowerful searchlight, to light a high vaulted tunnel of basalt rockswhich were distorted by some long-gone convulsion of the earth into ahundred weird cleavages and faults. For that brief instant he found hecould see perhaps a hundred feet down into a high roofed passage,along the top of which poured a tremendous stream of billowing,writhing steam.

  "If this doesn't beat all," he murmured; but for all of hisapprehension he did not pause. Those bloody splashes bespeakingAlden's pressing need urged him on. "Looks like I'm taking a one waytrip into Hell itself. Well, we'll soon see."

  Slipping and sliding over an almost impassable array of black rocksand boulders, Nelson fought his way forward, conscious that with everystride the air grew damper and warmer. Soon trickles of sweat werepouring down over his chest, tickling unbearably.

  Then all at once the ray of light faded, leaving him immersed in ablackness equalled only by the gloom of a subterranean vault. Hestopped and, resting his rifle against a nearby invisible rock, threwback the parka hood and pulled off his gloves. He was amazed to feelhow warm the strong air current was on his hands.

  "Beats all," he muttered heavily. "I wonder where they've takenAlden?"

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile his hands groped through fur garments now wet withmelted-snow and ice particles, searching for the catch to open thatpocket in which lay a small but powerful electric flashlight, aninstrument without which no far-flying aviator finds himself. After amoment's fumbling, his yet stiffened fingers encountered thecylindrical flash and, with a low cry of satisfaction, he drew itforth to press the button.

  "Mighty useful. I--" The words stopped, frozen on his lips. Before theparka edge his close cropped hair seemed to rise, and his breathstopped midway in his lungs. Sharp electric shocks shook him, forthere, half revealed in the feeble flashlight's glare, was a sightwhich shook his sanity to the snapping point. Not fifty feet away twoeyes, large as dinner plates, with narrow vertical red irises, weretrained on him. Rooted to the ground by the paralysis of utter horror,Nelson saw that their color was a weird, unhealthy, greenish white,rather like the color of a radio-light watch dial.

  Strangely intense, these huge orbs wavered not at all, filling himwith an unnameable dread, while the strong odor of musk assailed hisnostrils. The flashlight slipped from between Nelson's fingers and, nolonger having his thumb on the button, flickered out.

  Helpless, Nelson stood transfixed against a boulder, aware that thestrange, musky scent was becoming stronger. Then to his ears came adry scrabbling as of some large body stealthily advancing. Thosehorrible, unearthly eyes were coming nearer! Fierce, terrible shocksof fear gripped the exhausted aviator. Then the impulse ofself-preservation, that most elementary of all instincts, forced himto snatch up the rifle, to sight hastily, blindly, between those two,great greenish eyes. Choking out a strangled sob of desperation,Nelson made his trembling finger close over the cold strip of steelthat must be the trigger.

  * * * * *

  Like a stage trick, the cavern was momentarily lit by a strong, orangeyellow glare. Then the Winchester's report thundered and roareddeafeningly; coincidentally arose a nerve-shattering scream. Anexhalation, foul as a corpse long unburied, fanned his face.Terrified, he flattened to the rock wall as a huge, though dangerouslyagile body hurtled by with the speed of a runaway horse. Presentlyfollowed the sound of a ponderous fall, then a series of shrill,ear-piercing gibberings and squeakings, like those of a titanicrat--squeaks that rang like the chorus of Hell itself. Gradually theygrew fainter, while in the darkness the heavy air of the tunnel becamerank with the odor of clotting blood.

  Nelson remained where he was, shaking like a frightened horse andbathed with a cold sweat.

  "Wonder what it was?" he muttered numbly.

  He broke off, for in the terrible darkness sounded a low but perfectlyaudible _thud! thud! thud! thud!_--and also the subtle noise of somerough surface rasping gently over the stone. His nerves crisped andshrieked for relief.

  "It's coming again!" he told himself, and ejected the spent cartridgefrom the Winchester. "No use--it'll get me, but I may as well fight aslong as I can."

  Even stronger grew the musty smell of blood while that uncanny _thud!thud!_ sound continued at regular intervals. Nelson waited, breathhalted and finger on trigger, but still the darkness yielded noglimpse of those awful saucer-like eyes.

  * * * * *

  Emboldened, he stooped and, jerking off his left glove, commenced togrope among the boulders. Somewhere near at his feet the flashlightmust be lying. Hoping against hope that its fall had not shattered thebulb, he ran his fingers over the cold, damp stones, every instantexpecting to feel the clutch of the unseen monster. How tiny, how punyhe was! All at once his fingers encountered the smooth familiar shapeof the flash and he raised it cautiously through the darkness.Patiently he shifted the Winchester to his left hand in order to setthe flashlight on the top of a flat rock, pointing it as nearly as hecould determine in the direction from whence came those ominous,stealthy sounds.

  "Guess I'll switch on the light," he decided, "and trust to dropwhatever it is before it reaches me."

  Taking a fresh grip on his quivering nerves, Nelson cautiously cockedthe .38-55, cuddled the familiar stock to his shoulder. He sighted,then with his right hand pushed down the catch lever of theflashlight.

  Instantly a dazzling white beam shot forth to shatter the gloom. Thehair on the back of Nelson's hands itched unbearably, while the coldfingers of madness clutched at his brain, for the sight which met hiseyes all but bereft him of his wavering sanity. There, belly up,across a low ridge of basalt, lay a hideous reptile, which in formfaintly resembled an enormous and fantastic kangaroo. Its scabby bellywas of the unhealthy yellow of a grub, a hue which gave way to aleaden gray as the wart-covered skin reached the back. Two enormoushind legs, each thick as a man's torso and each equipped with threedagger-like talons, struck out in helpless fury at the air, while along, lizard-like tail threshed powerfully back and forth, scatteringponderous b
oulders right and left as though they had been marbles. Theflashlight being trained as it was, the monster's head andforequarters were invisible, all save two very much smaller andshorter front legs which, like the hinder ones, clawed spasmodically.

  "The D. T's!" gasped Nelson, conscious that he was trembling like anaspen. He suppressed a wild desire to laugh. "Yes, I've gone crazy!"

  * * * * *

  He glanced downwards and leaped swiftly back, for, creeping over thestones towards his fur outer boots, meandered a wide rivulet of brightscarlet blood. From its surface rose small curling feathers of steamwhich, drifting towards the tunnel's roof, merged with that gray,vaporous current flowing steadily towards the sunless Arctic expanseoutside.

  It took Nelson a long five minutes to sufficiently recover hisequilibrium for action. All he could do was to stare at thatgrotesque, gargoyle-like creature as it writhed in leisurely andpersistent death throes.

  "Guess I winged it all right! My God, what a nasty beast! Looks likeone of those allosaurs I read about in college. It couldn't be,though--that tribe of dinosaurs died out five million years ago."

  Cautiously he scrambled around among the high black stones, castingthe search light beams before him and holding the Winchester alwaysready in his hand while trying to recall snatches of palaeontologystudied at college long years ago.

  "Yes, it must be a survival of one of the carnivorous dinosaurs," hedecided, then paused, increasingly conscious of that steady thuddingnoise. What caused it?

  * * * * *

  At last he found himself before the creature's gigantic and repulsivehead which lay limp over a blood bathed stone, huge jaws partiallyopen, and serrated rows of wicked, stiletto-sharp teeth gleamingyellowly in the flashlight's rays. The head in shape was bullet-like,ending in a blunt nose as big as a bushel basket and in two prominentnostrils. The green, lidless eyes were still open, shining faintly,and seemed to follow his movements, but the steaming blood poured withthe force of a small hose from between triple row of bayonetlike teeththat curved inward like those of a shark, to splash and bubble freelyto the rock floor and to dribble horribly over the warty, gray hide.

  Then Nelson discovered an amazing fact. About the great scaly neck,thick as a boy's waist, was fastened a ponderous collar, set withshort, sharp spikes.

  Nelson gasped. "What in hell!" he cried. "This damn thing's somebody'sproperty!" His mind, staggered at the thought of dealing with a racethat could and would domesticate such a hideous monster. "Well, it'sno use standing here," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his eyes."This isn't getting poor Alden away from those devils."

  _Thud! thud!_ In the act of turning he paused, listened once more.Then he discovered to his amazement that the heart of the apparentlydead reptile was still beating strongly. He could even see the yellowskin of its belly rise and fall. The effect was grotesque, uncanny.

  "Of course," muttered the shaken aviator, "I'd forgotten a reptile'sganglions will keep on beating for hours, like that shark we killedoff Paumotu. Its heart didn't stop for five hours."

  * * * * *

  Leaving the slain allosaurus behind, the aviator limped onwards,doggedly following a trail which wound down, ever onwards, into thedepths of the earth. Gradually the air became so filled with steamthat he stripped off his fur jumper and trousers. Clad in a khakiflannel shirt, serge trousers and shoepacks, he paused long enough tocount his cartridges, and found there were just fourteen. Hell! Notvery many with which to venture into an unknown abyss. He distributedthem in his pockets, and, somewhat relieved of the weight of the fursuit, took up his advance, playing the flashlight ahead of him as hewent.

  "Poor Alden," he thought. "I wonder if he's still alive?"

  Every moment expecting to stumble over the mangled corpse of hisfriend he hurried on, making better time over the cavern floor, butsoon even the lighter clothing commenced to feel oppressive.

  "Must be the earth's heat," he muttered, while the steam clouds rolledby him like ghostly serpents. "Guess the crust is very thinhere--something like Yellowstone. Probably I'll find some thermalsprings ahead."

  Just as he spoke the tunnel took a sharp turn to the right. Hescrambled around the bend to stand petrified, for with the suddennessof lightning a flood of dazzling orange-red light sprang into being.Momentarily it blinded him, then revealed strange, incomprehensiblescenes. It appeared that two short shafts of incandescent flameroared through transparent columns of glass on either side of thepassage some fifty yards distant. Subconsciously Nelson realized thatthese columns began and ended in stonework that was smooth and welljoined.

  * * * * *

  As his eyes became accustomed to the glare he distinguished besideeach light pillar two bronze doors, some eight feet high andsemicircular in shape. These had been evidently pulled back to exposethe lights. Then his breath stopped in his throat, for there, standingbeside them, was a gleaming group of six or eight of the strangestcreatures Nelson could ever have imagined. They were men--there was nomistaking that--men of normal size, but they were so helmeted andincased in a curious type of armor that for a moment he believed themgargoyles.

  Quite motionless he stood, clutching the cold barrel of the Winchesterin a spasmodic grip and staring up at those two watch-towers, builtlike gigantic swallows' nests into sheer rock wall. He could see thewarriors stationed there, peering curiously down at him from thedepths of heavy, bronze helmets--helmets which in shape much resembledthose of an ancient Grecian hoplite, for the nose guards and cheekpieces descended so low as to completely mask the features of thosestrange guards. For crests these helmets bore exquisitely wroughtbronze dolphins, with brilliant blue eyes of sapphire. But whatfascinated Nelson most was the curious armor they wore. Beneath breastplates of polished bronze, these strange warriors wore what seemed tobe a kind of chain mail--yet it was not that, for the texture had morethe appearance of some heavy but pliant leather, finished with ametallic surfacing.

  Suddenly the spell of mutual amazement was broken, for a tall warriorin a breast plate that glittered with diamonds and seemed altogethermore ornate than the rest, clapped a short brass horn to his lips andblew a single piercing note. At once there appeared on the tunnel'sfloor, not a hundred yards from the startled aviator, a rank ofperhaps twenty soldiers, accoutred exactly like those he beheld by thelight boxes. They came scrambling over the boulders, their shadowsgrotesquely preceding them. In their hands were long shafted spears,and on their left arms rectangular shields, charged with a livelydolphin in the act of swimming. Some of them, however, held shorthoses in their hands, hoses that sprouted from tight brass coilsstrapped to their broad shoulders.

  * * * * *

  Again the commanding figure aloft raised the horn. From the tail ofhis eye Nelson caught the gleam of metal in the orange glare. While ablast, harsh as the scream of a fire siren, echoed and re-echoedeerily through the passage, there appeared a fresh detachment. Nelsonshrank back in horror, for these bronze-armored warriors led, at theend of a powerful chain, two more of those huge, ferocious allosaurs,exactly like the one he had slain but a short while back.

  Like well regulated automatons the hoplite rank opened to permit thepassage of those repulsive, eager monsters, then closed up again andhalted, spears levelled before them in the precise manner of anancient Grecian phalanx, while the men with those curious hose-likecontrivances ran out to guard the flanks.

  "I'm done for now," thought Nelson as he threw off the Winchester'ssafety catch. "I suppose they'll turn those nightmares loose on me."

  He was right. For all the world as though they led war dogs, thekeepers in brazen armor advanced, the dull metallic clank of theiraccoutrement clearly discernible above the sibilant hiss of theirhideous charges, which hopped along grotesquely like kangaroos, usingtheir long and powerful tails as a counterpoise.

  Then the officer watching from the left hand swal
low's nest shouted ahoarse, unintelligible command, whereupon one of the keepers raisedhis right hand in a sharp gesture that instantly flattened theincredible monster to earth, exactly like an obedient bird dog.

  As in a fantastic dream Nelson watched one of the armored guardiansunsnap the hook of the powerful chain by which his allosaurus wassecured. Then, whistling sharply, he clapped his hands and pointedstraight at the motionless aviator. The creature's green white eyesflickered back and forth, and a chill, colder than the outer Arctic,invaded Nelson's breast as those unearthly eyes came to rest upon him.

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile the other allosaurus remained crouched, whining impatientlyfor its keepers to cast it loose.

  Fixing burning eyes upon the American, the foremost keeper threw backhis head. "Ahre-e-e!" he shouted. Instantly the freed allosaurusarose, balanced its enormous bulk, then commenced to leap forward attremendous speed, clearing fifteen or twenty feet with each jump anduttering a curious, whistling scream as it bore down, a terrifyingvision of gleaming teeth and talons.

  Shaking off the paralysis of despair, Nelson whipped up the Winchesterand, as before, sighted squarely between those blazing, gemlike eyes.When the huge monster was but twenty feet away he fired, and thereport thundered and banged in the cavern like the crash of a summerstorm. In mid-air the ghastly carnivore teemed to stagger. Its tailtwitched sharply as in an effort to recover its balance. Then, quitelike any normal creature that is shot through the head, it lost allsense of direction and made great convulsive leaps, around and around,clawing madly at the air, bumping into the rock walls and utteringsoul-shaking shrieks of agony. Like a gargoyle gone mad it reeled backtowards the startled rank of spearmen. As it came, Nelson saw thesecond allosaurus rear itself backwards and, balanced on its tail,strike out with powerful hind legs as its maddened fellow drew near.

  Like razors the great talons ripped through the dying allosaurus'belly, exposing the gray-red intestines as the stricken creature racedby, snapping crazily at the empty air.

  A single mighty sweep of the monster's tail crushed five or six of thepanic-stricken keepers and guards, strewing them like broken andabandoned marionettes among the stones. Hissing and obviouslyterrified, the second dinosaur watched the dying struggles of itsmate; then, obedient to a terrified shout from its keepers, wheeledabout to join in a frantic rout of the spearmen, who, casting asideshield, spear and brass coil, fled for dear life in the direction ofthose invisible passages through which they had appeared.

  CHAPTER II

  No less amazed and alarmed than those vanished soldiers, Nelsonremained rooted to the ground, conscious that in the swallow's nestoverhead there remained only the officer--a tall, broad shouldered manwith golden beard showing from under the cheek pieces of his helmet.Across the body of the still writhing monster their glances met.Nelson could see by the light of those strange pillars of fire thatthe other's eyes were blue as any Norseman's. Leaning far out over thestone parapet the other stared down upon the aviator from the depthsof his jewelled helmet in a strange mixture of curiosity and awe.

  Suddenly Nelson's nerves snapped and he shook a trembling fist at themartial figure above.

  "Go away!" he shrieked, and reeled back on the edge of collapse. "Goaway, you damn phantom! You're driving me crazy--crazy, I tell you!"

  The other stiffened, then turned and, uttering a hoarse shout,vanished, leaving the noiseless and apparently heatless pillar of fireflaring steadily.

  Recovering somewhat, Nelson set his teeth, advanced to the nearestcorpse, stooped and regarded him who lay there, with bronze helmetfallen off.

  "It's a man and not a ghost," he murmured as his finger encounteredflesh that was still warm. "Red headed too, or I'm a liar. Now what inhell is all this?"

  For all his bewilderment he began to feel better and his swayingreason became steadier. "Bronze, bronze--nothing but bronze," theaviator told himself as he further examined the scattered equipment."Evidently these fellows don't know the use of iron or steel."

  * * * * *

  With increased curiosity he bent over another splendidly built deadman who lay with back broken and sightless eyes staring fixedly ontothe steam current meandering silently along the cavern's roof. Fromthe fallen man's belt were slung half a dozen curious weapons thatlooked not unlike potato mashers, except that they were bronze headedand had wooden handles.

  "Hum," he commented, "kind of like the grenades the Boche used in thelate lamented. Wonder what the devil these are?"

  Suddenly his ear detected the sound of a footstep and, on lookingswiftly up, he beheld that same yellow bearded officer who haddirected the attack. This strange being had taken off his ponderoushelmet to carry it in his left hand, while his right was heldvertically in the immemorial sign of peace. On he came with powerfulmartial strides, a brilliant green cloak flapping gently behind himand the jewels in his brazen armor glinting like so many tiny coloredeyes. The stranger was indeed handsome, Nelson noticed--and then hereceived perhaps the greatest shock of the whole chimerical adventure.The gold bearded man halted some twenty feet away, smiled and spoke ina curiously inflected but perfectly recognizable voice.

  "Welcome to the Empire of the Atlans. Prithee, Wanderer, what be thyname?"

  For a long moment Nelson was entirely too taken back to make a reply.Desperately his already perplexed brain tried to comprehend. Here wasa handsome six-footer, dressed in the arms of an ancient race,speaking English of the seventeenth century!

  * * * * *

  As at a phantom, he regarded the stalwart, faintly ominous figure,from heavy leather sandals to bronze greaves, thence to wide belt fromwhich dangled more of those curious grenadelike objects. His glancepaused on the officer's beautifully wrought bronze cuirasse or breastplate which showed in relief an emerald scaled dolphin and trident.These, Nelson decided, must be the national emblems of thisincomprehensible nation.

  Then their eyes met, held each other a long moment until the tallofficer's features, disfigured by a long red scar across the jaw,broke into a hard smile.

  "Hero Giles Hudson begs thy pardon," he said, "but methought thouspoke in the language of Sir Henry Hudson, my ancestor?"

  "Sir Henry Hudson!" stammered Nelson incredulously. "The old explorerwhose men turned him adrift? So that's why you're talking embalmedEnglish!" In desperation his weary brain strove to understand.

  "I know naught," replied the other with a grave smile, "save that thefounder of our royal line spoke what he called English. He came fromthe Ice World to rule wisely over Atlans. He was the greatestAtlantean of history."

  "Atlantean?" echoed Nelson, while his mind groped frantically in therecess of his memory. "Atlans, Atlantis!" A great light broke uponhim. "The lost Atlantis! Great God!" Had he stumbled upon a remnant ofthat powerful people whose fabled empire had been drowned tencenturies ago in the cold waves of the Atlantic?

  * * * * *

  "Aye," the yellow haired warrior continued as though reading histhoughts, "long centuries ago this valley was peopled by those whoescaped the great cataclysm which ended the mother country. Later cameanother race, barbarian wanderers like thyself." He bowed for all theworld like a courtly English gentleman. "But methinks thou art in needof food and sustenance?"

  "You bet I'm hungry," was Nelson's emphatic reply. "I'm one short jumpof starvation and the D. T.'s. But hold on a minute," he cried. "I'mlooking for a friend of mine. He went by here, didn't he?"

  "Aye." A crafty expression Nelson did not like crept into Hero GilesHudson's face as he solemnly inclined his head.

  "For the nonce, fair sir, thy companion is hale and sound. I beg yourpatience."

  With a quick gesture the Atlantean raised his dolphin-shaped horn andblew three short blasts while Nelson, in sudden alarm, cocked hisrifle and brought it in line with the other's chest. The glitteringofficer saw the motion, but made no effort to move from the l
ine ofsights.

  "Thy gesture avails naught," said he with stiff courtesy. "When HeroGiles gives his word, it stands good though Heliopolis and the Empireof the Atlans fall."

  One by one half a dozen spearmen appeared, all obviously veryfrightened and only moved by an apparently Spartan discipline.Promptly they saluted, whereupon the Hero--as his title appeared tobe--uttered a number of brief commands in some guttural languageentirely unintelligible to the dazed aviator.

  * * * * *

  Presently a strange column appeared, composed of some fifteen ortwenty disarmed men marching between a double rank of heavily equippedhoplites. As they drew near, they clasped imploring hands andevidently begged for mercy from the stern, tight jawed figure atNelson's side. Contemptuous and unhearing the prisoners' piteouspleadings and lamentations, Hero Giles scowled upon them anddeliberately turned his back.

  "What are they?" inquired Nelson, vaguely alarmed. "Enemies?"

  "Yes." There was a certain bitter savagery in the speaker's voice."These are the dauntless defenders of Atlans who ran at the report ofthy weapon. Presently they die."

  It was useless to interfere. The horrified aviator knew it and watchedwith compassionate eyes while the condemned soldiers were ranged in asingle, white faced line. They remained silent now, seeming to havefound courage now that hope was dead.

  Upon brief command from a subaltern, the guards wheeled about andretreated perhaps twenty yards down the passage. There they halted,glittering eyes peering through the slots in their helmets to fixthemselves upon the rigid prisoners who stood numbly resigned todeath.

  With surprising speed each member of that weird firing squad detacheda brazen grenade from his belt, then threw back his arm in exactly thesame attitude as a bomb-throwing doughboy. Then there came a short,sharp command and some fifteen or twenty grenades bobbed through theair to crash on the stones at the feet of the victims.

  * * * * *

  His head swimming with repulsion at the slaughter, Nelson beheld acurious sight. It seemed that from the broken grenades appeared ayellowish green vapor which sprung _of its own accord_ upon the silentupright rank! In an instant it settled like falling snow upon thedoomed soldiers. For a breathless fraction of a second they stood,eyes wide with horror, then collapsed, kicking and struggling as mendo under the influence of gas.

  "Horrible!" gasped Nelson. "What was in the bombs?"

  "A vapor," explained Hero Giles shortly. "A fungus vapor which,falling upon exposed flesh, instantly invades the blood and multipliesby millions. See--" He pointed to the nearest dead man and Nelson,with starting eyes, watched a yellowish growth commencing to sproutfrom the dead man's nostrils. Swiftly the poisonous mould threw outtiny branches, spreading with astounding rapidity over the skin until,in less than a minute after the grenades had exploded, the wholetumbled heap of dead were covered with a horrible yellow green fungusgrowth.

  "Thou seest?" Hero Giles demanded. "Powerful, is it not? It is againstthe fungus vapor we wear this body armor made from the skin of a smalllizard which inhabits our mountains."

  Shocked and appalled, Nelson watched the retreat of the solemn, silentexecution party.

  Other soldiers fell to unconcernedly stripping their fallen comradesof equipment; then, to Nelson's horrified surprise, two hideousallosauri reappeared, shepherded by some six or eight keepers. Oncethe horrible creatures were released, they pounced upon the dead and,snarling horribly, commenced to rend and devour the corpses.

  * * * * *

  Too shaken to comment or to make the protest he knew to be futile,Nelson followed the stalwart English-speaking officer into a bronzedoor set in the cavern wall and up a short flight of stairs into whatappeared to be a guard room, where food and wine were immediately setbefore the famished aviator.

  "Yea," Hero Giles was saying as he set down a beautiful goblet andwiped the last traces of wine from his beard, "we will soon o'ertakethy friend. He was but little hurt, and thou wilt assuredly join himin judgment before our great Emperor, Altorius XXII, at Heliopolis,our capital."

  "Heliopolis?" mumbled Nelson, his mouth full of delicious stew thatseemed to be made of veal. "Heliopolis? How far away is it?"

  "A hundred leagues more or less," the other smiled. "Almost a third ofthe distance up this great valley."

  "One hundred leagues! Three hundred miles! Then we won't be there forseveral days."

  The Hero's deep, rather ominous laughter rang out in the little rockhewn chamber. "Days?" he jeered. "Days? Art thou mad? In two hoursfrom the time we board the tube-road thou shalt learn thy fate fromhis Serene Highness."

  "What!" Nelson's sunken and blood-shot gray eyes widened, while hisjaw dropped incredulously. "One hundred leagues in two hours? As Iremember there are about three miles to a league, so a hundred leaguesin two hours means one hundred and fifty miles an hour! Why, that'sutterly impossible! The Twentieth Century Limited doesn't go half sofast."

  Several enormous emeralds set into the other's bronze cuirasseglittered softly and the Hero's cold blue eyes hardened as his handsought the grenade belt.

  "Impossible? Dost doubt my words, sirrah?" With an effort hecontrolled himself. "Nay, thou shalt see for thyself ere long. Thetube-road runs from Heracles to Heliopolis. Thou canst trace itscourse on this map here on the wall."

  "The dog-born devils of Jarmuth have no such means of travel,"continued the Atlantean, with a touch of smug pride that remindedNelson of a small town Middle Westerner speaking of the "rightest,tightest little town west of the Mississippi."

  Nelson found it extremely weird to be sitting there in a heavy armchair, drinking good red wine with a fierce armor-clad warrior whowore sandals, sword and a war cloak such as might have graced thelimbs of Alexander of Macedon. But with the food and rich warm wine,he felt blood, strength and self-confidence pouring back into hisweary body. "Jarmuth?" he inquired. "What is Jarmuth?"

  At his question the domineering, predatory face across the tabledarkened and the scar on his cheek flamed red as a scowl of hatredgripped Hero Giles' visage.

  "Jarmuth!" snarled the Hero, and his great hand closed like a vise."Jarmuth! A nation of treacherous, gold-adoring cannibals, whosecountless hordes, spawned in the hot lowlands, ever threaten ourfrontiers. I tell thee, Friend Nelson, the dog-sired Jereboam will notrest until mighty Heliopolis lies in a heap of smoking ashes."

  "Evidently," thought Nelson, taken aback at the other's vehemence,"this lad's English only in speech. I guess he's all Atlantean outsideof that."

  * * * * *

  Warming to a fiercer pitch, the other fixed his guest with asmoldering gaze. "Jarmuth lies beyond Apidanus, the boiling river, andis the home of a savage horde whose horrid rites in Jezreel, thecapital, stink as an offense to Saturn and the High Gods! Why, markyou," the warrior prince continued, interrupting his tirade to gulp agoblet of wine, "five years ago, by treachery, they seized thebeauteous Altara, sister of our gracious Emperor, and upon the annualfeast of Beelzebub, that vile demon they worship, the dark dogs wouldhave sacrificed and devoured her, according to their rites, had notour Emperor dispatched a ransom of six fair maidens to take her place.

  "Every year since then Jereboam has exacted that same tribute. Everyyear their princes and priests gorge themselves on the tender whiteflesh of our fairest and noblest maidens. But this tribute must end!The augurs have told us so. Help will come from the Ice World." HeroGiles brought crashing down on the table a brawny fist, on whosewrist was fixed a bright, gem-studded bracelet.

  Horror-stricken, Nelson nodded.

  "It is for this alone," continued the Hero somberly, "that thy lifeand that of thy friend have been spared."

  "So? I didn't notice," broke in Nelson, "that you particularly wentout of your way to preserve my health a while back."

  The heavy golden head shook slowly and a grim smile played about thosethin cruel lips. "Nay, but I could have had thee
slain. Come, as we goto the tube-road I'll show thee how much thou liest in the hollow ofthis, my hand." He thrust out a broad, powerful palm. "Forget not,fair sir. At any moment I or my Imperial Master may choose to closethat hand."

  "Perhaps!" stated Nelson, feeling it imperative to keep up his pose ofindependence. "But it might just happen that your hand would close ona porcupine, and so far from hurting the porcupine it would be yourhand that would be hurt."

  "Sirrah!" The Atlantean sprang to his feet and one hand shot to thegrip of his ponderous, bronze sword; but even more quickly Nelsonsnatched up his rifle, a thin smile playing on his lips.

  "Drop it," he snapped. "Control yourself, or I'll plug you like thatallosaur. Be reasonable, can't you? We both want something, andperhaps can help each other gain it."

  * * * * *

  The taut, menacing figure in armor relaxed and, with a gentle clank ofaccoutrement, Hero Giles resumed his seat.

  "Prithee pardon me," he apologized ungraciously. "I was ever ahot-head and there is much in what thou sayest. We wish to force anend to this annual tribute--if not to regain our beloved Altara. Andthou"--his heavy, golden eyebrows shot up--"and thou, what dost thouwish?"

  Nelson lowered the menacing barrel. "I want the return of RichardAlden, free passage back to that spot where he was captured and plentyof food and help should we need it. If I aid you in one, you mustpromise me in the other."

  "Aye," returned the other doubtfully. "But I myself can pledge naughtsave thy immediate safety. 'Tis for our Imperial Majesty to saywhether both thou and thy friend shall live, or whether ye shall feedour war dogs. Come now, we must go to Heliopolis."

  _Map of Jarmuth and Atlans_]

  Picking up his heavy, bronze helmet the Atlantean prince set it on hisyellow head and waited impatiently for Nelson to drain the last of hiswine. Then, with a swirl of his green cloak, he vanished through therock wall, closely followed by a singularly distracted and alarmedaviator.

  CHAPTER III

  A bright yellow glare steadily increased to mark the end of the tunneldown which the two had progressed; then, with the sharp abruptness ofa hand-clap, there resounded a loud challenge in that unintelligibleAtlantean language, above which the hiss of steam could be loudlyheard.

  Instantly the Atlantean prince strode forward, a commanding figure.Momentarily his helmet and the dangling grenadelike bombs were sharplyoutlined against that unearthly yellow light. He raised his hand anddropped it, palm outward, to his chin in what must have been a salute.The hissing sound of steam then faded into silence.

  Followed at a respectful distance by a pair of silent, bronze-helmetedhoplites, Nelson and his guide descended a narrow stair, whichbroadened at the base. It was a very long staircase composed ofperhaps two or three hundred steps which were occasionally interruptedby wide stone terraces. On these level spaces were fixed what appearedto be enormous field guns of glittering brass. They were similar, yetsomehow oddly dissimilar, to the great guns Nelson had seen inFrance.

  "Behold, oh Wanderer," Hero Giles declaimed impressively, "the landsof Atlans and Jarmuth!"

  It was a weird landscape that met Nelson's half-unbelieving gaze, alandscape green with that brilliance peculiar to spring meadows, lyingbeneath the same deep blue sky that overarched the surrounding barrenice fields which hemmed in this astounding valley.

  * * * * *

  A slight smile played over Hero Giles' thin lips as he watched theamazed aviator.

  "The splendor of our country must indeed astound thee," he observed,"having come from the dreary fastness of the outer Ice World. Butcome; we are now to pass the great retortii guarding the entrance intothe valley."

  Nelson's eyes turned again to the weapons that so oddly resembledfield guns. He examined them closely, inspecting them narrowly for thedifferences he knew must exist between them and the artillery that hadthundered during the War of the Nations.

  The chief difference lay in the mounting of these starkly beautifulweapons. They seemed to be fixed on a movable pivot set into the coalblack rock itself. Like modern artillery, these curious pieces ofordnance bore a bronze shield to protect their crews, through whichprojected the long and very narrow barrels of the guns. Grouped likecannoneers about their piece stood various red-crested Atlanteanartillerymen. At a glance Nelson recognized the difference in theirequipment from that of the spearmen behind them. These former bore noshields, no swords or bombs, but wore that same kind of leatherbody-armor which graced the powerful limbs of Hero Giles. Theirhelmets, too, were different: only the dolphin crest with a tuft ofred feathers spouting from it bore any resemblance to those of theinfantry, and, moreover, the artillerymen's eyes were shielded bygoggles with thick blue lenses.

  * * * * *

  As the Hero approached, officers among them saluted, then sank on oneknee with head humbly bent.

  "Rather odd looking guns," commented Nelson. "I'm not much of anartilleryman, but I'm wondering how you take up the recoil?"

  The Atlantean's laugh, which always reminded his guest of the purr ofa tiger, rang out. "Why, marry, good sir, there is no recoil! Theseguns do not use that powder which Sir Henry, founder of our line, didspeak of. Thou wouldst see one fired?"

  His curiosity immeasurably piqued, Nelson nodded, whereupon theAtlantean wheeled about and barked a brief command. With trulyPrussian precision, the artillerymen sprang to their posts, some to aseries of levers which sprouted from the rock platform without anyapparent connection, and some to wheels and gauges of varying sizethat clustered in bewildering intricacy about the breech of the greatbrass gun.

  "Markest thou that tree yonder, on the ledge of the valley?" TheAtlantean's blunt outstretched finger indicated a towering pinesprouting from among a mass of reddish volcanic rock at the rim ofthat new world.

  "Yes, I see it, but--" Nelson was astounded. A pine tree in the upperArctic! That alone was sufficient cause for amazement. From a stiffred-plumed gun captain issued a brief series of commands which set thewonderfully drilled crew to silently adjusting their training andelevating mechanism. Click! Clack! Sis-s-s-s!

  * * * * *

  All up and down the vast staircase other gun crews stood watching.Nelson saw their weird, bluish goggles raised to that platform where,for all the world like a coast defense howitzer, the great cannonswung majestically about on the ponderous, brazen column which seemedto support it. Gradually the muzzle was elevated, then traversed a fewfeet, to finally come to a halt.

  "Jakul, a Hero!" shouted the gun captain, his hand raised to HeroGiles.

  "Thou art ready, Friend Nelson?" he inquired in tolerant amusement."Mark well yon pine tree!

  "Storr!"

  Nelson saw one of the armored cannoneers bend forward, firmly grasp ashort lever with both hands. In anticipation of a terrific report, theaviator pressed finger tips to his ears. There followed not athundering crash, but a curious, eery, high-pitched scream, ratherlike that of a fire siren. There was no smoke! Nelson's incredulouseyes sought the muzzle of the gun and detected issuing from it whatappeared to be a thin, white rod. This shimmering stream of silvershot straight towards the pine tree, gradually widening and giving offfeathery billows of steam. In a fraction of a moment the target wascompletely veiled from sight in a furious pall of clouds which, toNelson's great astonishment, did not dissipate nor condense with thespeed of ordinary steam.

  "Nava!"

  With impressive suddenness the screaming sound faded, leaving a sortof stunned silence on the gun platform. The gunners stalked back totheir original stations.

  * * * * *

  Slowly, reluctantly, the mist enveloping the pine tree cleared awayand Nelson felt a chill creeping up his spine. The pine was a goodthree hundred yards away, yet now it sagged limp to earth, stripped ofbark, twigs and needles, only the bright yellow trunk and majorbranches remaining.

  "That tree was a
good two feet thick," mused the astounded aviator,"yet the steam gun bent it like a sapling. My God! What would it do toa man?"

  "What thinkest thou of our retortii?" The Atlantean's beard glintedlike metal as he shook with a grim, silent laughter. "These greatretortii can shoot half a league and will blast any living thing intheir path. I tell thee, friend Nelson, the discharge of even a smallretortii will strip the flesh from a man's bones as a peasant stripsthe husk from an ear of corn!"

  "Fearful, terrible!" was Nelson's awed comment. "Is there no defenceagainst them?"

  "Of course." The Hero's green feather-crested helmet gleamed with anod. "Was there ever an instrument of war that had not its defence?Yea, we have the blue vapor to shatter steam particles--it is calledthe blue maxima. Thou wilt presently see some of our troops armed withit."

  "But where does this steam come from? How is it generated?" These twowere the first of a host of questions which trembled on Nelson's lips.

  "The steam," replied the Atlantean, "comes from the earth. We compressit many times, then feed it into our retortii. Without the heat ofMother Earth and our flame suns we would all perish. Steam is ourmotive power, our defence and our enemy!"

  He flung his hand towards the vast valley stretched before them. Itwas hemmed in on either side by colossal breath-taking mountainranges, whose caps shone and glittered with an eternal snow.

  "Some foothills! They must rise all of 25,000 feet from the valleyfloor," decided the aviator, "and I should imagine this valley is agood mile below sea level. Yes! That must be it: this nightmarecountry lies in a huge geographical fault--something like the DeadSea."

  * * * * *

  Mile after mile he could see fertile green land stretching away towardsome low undulating hills on the horizon. Atlans was very thicklysettled--that he recognized at once--for the terrain was divided andsub-divided into a vast checker-board, such as he had seen in Franceand Germany, while terraces, green with produce, had been laboriouslygouged out of the frowning mountain sides.

  Then his eye encountered the source of that curious amber light whichpervaded the whole valley. A titanic flaming gas vent spouted like acyclopean torch from the peak of a nearby mountain. Its steady,subdued roar struck Nelson's ear as he turned away his eyes, for theglare was too intense to be long endured. Further down the valley weretwo more such incandescent vents, shooting their flaming tonguesboldly into the sky, warming the air and casting that rich, amberradiance over all.

  "That is Mount Ossa nearest us," the Atlantean's voice came as thoughfrom a long distance. Victor Nelson was too staggered, too unspeakablyamazed to register the fact of the Hero's proximity. "Below are Pelionand Jilboa, which, with Jabor, the greatest of all the flames,illuminate and warm the valley."

  Nelson's eye, trained to be all observant, ranged far and wide, notingthe presence of many lacy, frothing geysers which spouted at varyingintervals. There were, also, many steaming ponds and waterfalls whichsprang in smoky confusion from the rock palisades to either side.

  * * * * *

  Nearer at hand he could distinguish a number of huge stone structures,evidently forts and public buildings. Strategically placed all aboutwere more of those terrible brass retortii, gleaming dully under theincandescent glare of the flame sun.

  "Come," cried Hero Giles with an impatient gesture of his hand, "wemust e'en hasten to the tube-road terminal. Word has long since beensent to Heliopolis of thy arrival."

  Downwards into the valley, which grew ever warmer and more fertile,the Atlantean led on, explaining a thousand and one details to theastounded aviator. Presently they approached the nearest of the greatstone structures and Nelson received yet another shock. In a courtyardwas drilling what would correspond to a troop of cavalry in the outerworld. In orderly ranks the troopers wheeled, marched andcounter-marched, their brazen armor twinkling and clashing softly asthey carried out their evolutions with an amazing precision. But whatastonished Nelson was the fact that each of these strange troopersbestrode a lithe, long-limbed variety of dinosaur, a good half smallerthan the allosauri he had encountered in the tunnel. These agilecreatures ran about on their hind legs with astonishing speed, using along reptilian tail as a balance.

  On the back of each trooper was fastened a compact circular coppertank, from which sprouted a flexible metal hose that ended in whatlooked like a ponderous type of pistol.

  In distinction to the red of the artillerymen and the blue of theHoplites, these curious cavalrymen wore brilliant crests of yellowfeathers, and from their lance tips fluttered tiny pennons of thatsame color.

  "They must travel at least as fast as a race horse," decided theaviator after studying the swift evolutions of the scaly chargers. Tohis ears came the curious dry scrape and rattle of their horny clawson the stone pavement of the drill yard.

  He would have lingered to see more, for those grotesque, lizard-likechargers interested him immensely, but Hero Giles beckonedimperiously. So, dropping the Winchester to the hollow of his arm,Nelson followed him into the brilliantly gas-lit depths of the greatstructure.

  * * * * *

  Everywhere were red bearded, white skinned soldiers, staring at himwith the frank curiosity of children. Powerful, magnificently builtfellows they were, all in uniforms of different designs.

  The walls about him, Nelson noticed, were covered with reallybeautiful friezes depicting various warlike scenes in that pure beautyof proportion found only in ancient Grecian temples.

  On and on through resounding tunnels, past busy markets and barracks,hurried the two travelers. Then the Atlantean halted before agracefully arched doorway where stood two hoplites, who immediatelylowered spears to bar the passage. At a word from Hero Giles, however,they saluted and fell back in position--immovable, grim guardians.

  Inside was a short staircase, beautifully wrought of bronze. Up thisflashed the Atlantean's mail-clad body; then he came to a halt underthe direct rays of a blinding light.

  Nelson, on arriving above, discovered that the chamber was lined withjointless brass about ten feet high and circular in shape. "What'sthis?" he demanded curiously.

  "The terminal of the tube-road. In a moment thou shalt see the greatcylinder arrive."

  The words were hardly by the Hero's lips when there appeared,noiselessly and amid a great rush of air, a huge metal cylinder thatran upon a sort of truck. It rumbled up to the edge of the platformand from its end a small door was opened.

  * * * * *

  Hero Giles exchanged a few sentences with an elderly man who appearedto act as control master, then he indicated the glowing doorway of thecylinder.

  Firmly clutching his Winchester, Nelson bowed his head and steppedinside, there to discover a luxury he had never anticipated. Theinterior of the cylinder was brilliantly lit and on both sides wereranged wide divans, strewn with many silken cushions. In a rack nearbywere several graceful glass amphora, filled with red and tawny wine.

  "The cylinder must be about thirty feet long," the marvelling Americantold himself, "and about ten feet in diameter. Guess it works on thesame principle as the compressed air tubes the department stores useto send change with."

  Gingerly he tested the nearest divan and marvelled at the curioussoftness of what appeared to be a gigantic tiger skin. Meanwhile HeroGiles entered, his stern features even more serious, but with him wasa younger man who resembled him not a little.

  "Fair brother," said the Atlantean to his companion, "this is he ofwhom I spoke. Friend Nelson, this is Hero John, my next youngestbrother--he, too, speaks the language of the great Sir Henry Hudson."

  The metallic clang of the door being shut brought a sharp qualm toNelson's heart. "What are they doing?" he demanded quickly.

  "The menials bolt the door beyond," explained Hero Giles with amusedgravity. "In a moment our cylinder will be placed in the dispatchingchamber, where steam pressure will be exerted. We shall then be h
urledthrough this vacuum tube-road to Heliopolis, greatest city of Atlans.In an hour we will be there."

  Outside sounded the sudden insistent clangor of a gong, andimmediately the hiss of steam grew louder. The car shuddered as thehissing rose to an eery scream, then all at once the cylinder leapedforward, nearly hurling Nelson from his seat. He struggled as best hemight to gain his equilibrium, for the eyes of the others were on him.

  Then, more smoothly, the great cylinder gathered speed and hurtled onthrough the darkness of the tube-road towards Heliopolis, where VictorNelson would read the book of Fate.

  CHAPTER IV

  On the arrival platform at Heliopolis reigned a fierce excitement.Nelson noted countless armed and unarmed warriors hurrying to and fro,desperately intent on reaching their various posts, and snarlingill-temperedly as they elbowed their fellows aside. As soon as theyappeared, Hero Giles and his brother became the center of an excitedpress of gorgeously armored officers.

  "Hum!" murmured the aviator under his breath. "Something's happened.Must be a revolution, an earthquake or a Democratic convention intown; these boys seem all steamed up."

  Intently he studied the ring of fierce, red bearded faces surroundinghis late hosts and gathered that indeed some event of overwhelmingimportance had taken place. Presently a splendid falcon-eyed old manin a yellow cloak strode up, struggling to control himself. Hisresemblance to the two Heroes struck Nelson immediately.

  "Harken ye," he cried, in that Elizabethan English which appeared tobe the hieratic language of the New Atlantis' rulers. "Have ye heard?The dog-conceived sons of Semites have broken the truce! But threemeasures gone by, a brigade of their mounted podokesons swooped downon this very suburb of Tricca, yea, to the very gates of Heliopolis!The foul man-eating dogs slaughtered royal serfs and burnt twoquarters of the suburb to the ground! Moreover, they seized thatprisoner"--Nelson's heart gave a great leap at the word--"whom thousentest from the mountain passes."

  "What!" In two swift strides Nelson was before the gray beard, hisblood-shot eyes blazing with a strange light. "What did you say aboutthat prisoner?"

  * * * * *

  The old man, who had obviously not noticed Nelson's presence, wasthunderstruck to hear him speak in English until Hero Giles brieflyexplained his presence.

  "Yea!" continued the elder, flinging lamentations furiously over hisshoulder, "these swine of the Lost Tribes captured him and slew hisescort. They have retreated towards the Apidanus, slaying, burning andpillaging as they go."

  A sickening, deadly fear gripped the weary aviator. This was too much!Bad as it was to have Richard Alden captured by these weirddescendants of a long vanished race, it was far worse to have himfall into the hands of their deadly enemies, the Jarmuthians, decadentsurvivors of Israel's Five Lost Tribes. The possibility of a rescuenow seemed hopelessly and crushingly vague and distant. What could hedo now?

  In dread despair he glanced about, amazed at the prodigious numbers ofscowling men who hurried by, obviously intent upon the commencement ofa campaign for revenge.

  Then Hero Giles turned his scarred, warlike face, now set in granitelines. "Come, Friend Nelson, my uncle Anthony bids me take thee directto the presence of His Serene Splendor, where he lies encamped atCierum, by the shores of Lake Copias. There he marshals the army ofAtlans for a march through the hot country on Jezreel. I tell thee,thou hast come in stirring times. From Heraclea, Thebes, Ys and Maydawill come the Phalanxes. Once and forever we will deal the dogs ofJarmuth a final blow."

  * * * * *

  Victor Nelson never forgot the hours that followed. Issuing at a fasttrot from the tube-road terminal, the two Heroes led the way to a vaststructure, in which were stabled both the terrific allosauri and thepodokesauri, those swift dinosaurs which seemed to serve theAtlanteans as horses. The dreadful hiss and snarl of these monstersresounded in his ears long before the stables came in sight, and thatcurious musky odor he had noted in the tunnel was sickeningly strong.

  Everywhere he read signs of hurried preparations for war. Savage,surly allosauri were led from their stables, one by one, long neckswrithing snakelike backwards and forwards. Then their keepers would,after a moment's tussle, secure huge leather muzzles over their gapingjaws, and the huge reptiles would be led waddling along on their hindlegs out into a vast courtyard, there to hiss and strike at theirnearest fellows.

  "Thinkest thou couldst ride a podoko?" inquired Hero John, an anxiouslook on his handsome, friendly features. "They are difficult tomanage--but swift in flight as the birds themselves!"

  "I don't know," replied the aviator, "but I'm damn well going to try.If your Emperor can help me rescue Alden, the sooner we get started,the better."

  For all his brave resolutions, his heart sank, as the green kiltedkeeper led forth three podokesauri. Nelson stared curiously at themas, hopping along, they drew near, to bare needle-sharp teeth at himwhile, brazen stirrups on either side jangled softly against theirrough, scaly hides.

  In evident high spirits the beasts snuffed the air and pawed withtheir tiny front legs excitedly, making their sharp talons glistenlike polished steel. A bridle dangled from the mouth of each and aring set in the thick upper lip served as a further means of control.

  * * * * *

  At a sharp "_Oya_!" from an old and toothless keeper, the first podokosank flat to the stone floor like a kneeling camel.

  "A sturdy beast," commented Hero Giles, tightening his belt andsecuring the clasps to the emerald-green war cloak. "Here, FriendNelson, thou hadst best don a helmet; the podokos on occasion throwback their heads and so might wound thee." So saying, he set foot instirrup and swung up into a saddle which was built up high in thecantle to correct the sharp downward slope of the reptile's muscularback.

  At a signal, Hero Giles' ugly mount rose to its height and shuffledawkwardly sidewise, as the old keeper, his eyes very wide and curious,led forward Nelson's charger.

  "Look," said Hero John with a reassuring smile. "The chin strapbuckles so--be sure it fits snug, else it will pound on thy head tothe podoko's stride. If thou wouldst turn to the left, pull the reinso, to the right so, and if thou wouldst stop, pull strongly on thenose ring; 'tis not so difficult." He laid a friendly hand on Nelson'sflannel clad shoulder. "How wilt thou manage thy curious weapon?" heinquired doubtfully. "Perhaps thou hadst best leave it behind."

  There was a grim smile on Nelson's weary and wind burned features."Not on your life, old son! This Winchester and I stick closertogether than the Siamese twins."

  Nelson thrust his foot into a heavy stirrup, eased his weight into thehigh peaked saddle and gripped the pommel, for though an excellenthorseman, he had no clue as to what motion would ensue. It was wise hedid so, for the podoko reared suddenly, almost flinging his rider fromthe saddle.

  * * * * *

  Immediately Hero John mounted, raised his right hand and dealt hispodoko a stinging slap on the fore-shoulder. The great reptile hissedin protest, but commenced to walk off with an awkward, hopping step.Nelson's mount followed suit.

  Faster and faster ran the podokos, their long and scale-covered necksstretched far out ahead while their tails lifted correspondingly, muchlike that of an airplane about to take off.

  "Whew! He must be doing all of forty-five," gasped Nelson, while thewind whistled about his ears and snapped madly at the yellow crest ofhis brazen helmet.

  The ride which ensued remained forever fixed in the aviator's memory.Like so many shots from a gun the three podokos darted off out of thestables, past a gate guarded by a battery of retortii, whose redplumed cannoneers sprang to attention as the three strangely assortedriders sped out into the amber, perpetual light of Atlans.

  Nelson, on finding his balance, looked about him to receiveimpressions of immensely tall structures, of pyramids which, like theziggurats of Sumaria, and Babylon, were surmounted with beautifullyproportioned temples.

 
"Must be at least a million people in this burg of Heliopolis,"thought Nelson, easing his Winchester.

  Hour after hour they sped along, frequently overtaking detachments oftroops. Twice they halted to change mounts, though the podokos seemedquite tireless.

  At the end of five hours' furious riding, Nelson beheld a dense whitecloud low on the horizon.

  "What's that?" he demanded. "Fog?"

  "No," Hero John informed him. "Yonder flows the Apidanus, the boilingriver. Not far away to the left lies the frontier fortress of Cierum,where is encamped the Emperor, who will sit in judgment upon thee."

  Nelson's heart sank. He had been so occupied with his fears for Aldenthat he had not dwelt upon his own precarious position.

  * * * * *

  Scarcely half an hour elapsed, if Nelson's wrist watch were runningcorrectly, before he reached the tremendous, swarming camp of AltoriusXXII, Emperor of Atlans. Hero Giles proved to be a powerful talisman,for everywhere officers and men alike saluted respectfully and sank onone knee as he passed.

  "Wait here," he snapped, as the podokos sank obediently to the dust."Brother John, do thou guard Friend Nelson while I seek permission ofHis Serene Splendor to bring the Wanderer into the Presence."

  Almost immediately the elder Atlantean returned, a frown on hisscarred, rather brutal visage. "Come," he muttered, "but I fear forthee, Friend Nelson; His Splendor is in a savage mood--this raid hathstirred his ire beyond all bounds."

  "Nothing like cheering up a patient before he goes into the operatingroom," thought Nelson, and quietly threw off the safety on hisWinchester. "Six shots," he reflected. "Well, if I go, I reckon I'lltake some damn good company along."

  The aviator was led down a long passage, at every ten feet of whichwas posted an enormous scowling guard, whose spears, retortii andarmor were painted a brilliant jade-green. Then a musical, deep-tonedgong boomed twice, and Hero Giles halted before an exquisitely wroughtdoor, which, without any apparent propulsion, silently slid back intothe massive stone walls, revealing a huge, brilliantly lit circularchamber that was hung with emerald-green hangings. In the center,surrounded by a royal guard of nobles in splendidly jeweled armor, wasreared a dais, upon which stood a throne that blazed with the mostvaried collection of diamonds that Nelson could ever have imagined.

  "Down on your face," rasped Hero Giles as, in common with his brother,he knelt and then fell prostrate on the cool black marble floor.

  "Damned if I will," murmured Nelson, and remained erect.

  * * * * *

  Bolt upright, he looked across the interval and found himself staringinto the furious eyes of one of the handsomest men he had ever beheld.Gripping his Winchester in a kind of "port arms" position, he stood toattention--by some curious kink of the brain reverting to his militarydays. And so the two men, different as day and night, faced eachother. Altorius XXII clad in robes of scarlet, and a glitteringcuirasse that glowed like the evening sun. His yellow head was trulysplendid, reminiscent of that of a young Roman Emperor. The hair, likethat of the Hudsonian Heroes, was blond, curly and close cropped. Yes,thought the awed but self-contained American, there was somethinggenuinely imperial about the Emperor's aquiline visage, for a highintelligent forehead and piercing blue eyes dominated a strong mouth,which was marred by a decidedly cruel twist at the corners. On him,also, was set the stamp of Sir Henry Hudson's dauntless race.

  "Put him is a business suit and a soft gray hat," mused Nelson, "andyou would find a dozen like him in any of London's best clubs."

  "Down on thy face, sirrah!" Outraged, the Emperor's voice rang likethe peal of a brazen trumpet through the great pillared audiencechamber. The nearest guardsmen held themselves ready, hand on swordhilt.

  "No." Nelson's shaggy black head went back as he found his tongue atlast. "No, Your Majesty. In America we have our own way of showingrespect for authority. I'm an American and, with all respect, I'llsalute you as one."

  So saying, his hand flicked up in a sharp military salute to the visorof that Atlantean helmet which he still wore.

  "All damn foolishness," he silently told himself. "I feel like thelead in a ten, twenty, thirty melodrama. But I suppose it's got to bedone."

  * * * * *

  The Emperor's teeth gleamed in a half snarl as he sprang with Jovianwrath to his feet.

  "Dog! How darest thou bandy words with us?"

  "Have mercy!" hoarsely pleaded Hero John as he lay on the floor. "Havemercy, oh Splendor! He is but an ignorant wanderer from the IceWorld."

  It appeared that the young Hero was something of a favorite, for themasterful, thunder-browed Emperor checked himself and, stillglowering, settled back on the diamond throne.

  "Ye have my permission to enter and approach."

  Whereupon, Hero Giles arose and, with many black looks at his guest,strode forward to briefly explain his presence.

  Nelson felt Altorius' blazing blue eyes search his face.

  "Then he whom the dog-born Jereboam captured was thy friend?"

  "Yes," replied Nelson with dignity, "my best friend. Alden and I havetraveled and wandered all over the world together."

  "Over the world? The Ice World?" Altorius seemed interested, for heleaned forward, muscle corded arms very brown against the frostybrilliance of the stones studding his throne. He flipped back ascarlet cloak and bent a searching look on the straight, unafraidfigure below.

  Impatient to reach a decision, Nelson forebore to amplify theEmperor's assumption that the outside world was all ice and snow.

  "Yes," he said, "from the land of America. I've spoken with HeroGiles, Your Majesty's Captain-General."

  "So, then, no doubt, he has told you of the law of our country?"Altorius' white teeth shown again in the depths of his short, curlingbeard.

  "Perhaps." Nelson was vague, wishing no further amplification.

  "The law of Atlans," pronounced the Emperor with a frown, "states thata stranger must prove his worth to the State, else he must be put todeath. Thank thou thy gods that thou hast not fallen into the hands ofthe Lost Tribes, for assuredly thou would perish miserably, as mustthy comrade."

  * * * * *

  "What is the law of Jarmuth?" inquired Nelson, his mind furiously atwork.

  "Their law states that the stranger within their gates must perish onthe altar of Beelzebub, Jarmuth's blood-hungry demon god." A momentaryexpression of sadness crept into the Emperor's blue eyes and he beat asquare, powerful hand on the arm of his throne. "Aye, blood-hungry!Lack-a-day! But yesterday, six of our fairest maidens crossed theboiling river, never to return."

  Nelson was about to speak when from outside came the blast of atrumpet. The assembled Atlanteans started, paused, and remainedsilent, listening intently.

  Hero Giles looked up, a light kindling in his deep-set eyes. "Yon wasan Israelite trumpet."

  As the words left his lips there came a hurried rapping at the portal,whereupon the guards sprang forward.

  "Bid them enter." Altorius seemed strangely tense and uneasy.

  Quietly the door rolled back as before, revealing an Atlantean whoseeyes rolled with alarm. He hurried forward and flung himself on thefloor at the Emperor's sandaled feet.

  "Harken, oh Serene Splendor! Waiting without is an embassy from hisMajesty of Jarmuth. They bear words for thine Imperial Highness."

  "Now, by Saturn! Here's insolence--at an hour such as this!" With afurious swirl of his scarlet cloak Altorius leaped to his feet, handon the ivory handle of his sword, which, to Nelson's amusement was notof bronze, but of good, blue-gray steel.

  "I'll bet it's old Sir Henry's original pet sticker," he thought.

  "Bring on these dogs of Israel," growled Altorius. "They shall die!"

  "Gently, gently, oh Splendor," murmured Hero John. "Our full force isnot yet camped on the Plains of Poseidon."

  "Nay! Have the rogues flayed alive!" was the advice of the hot-head
edelder brother. He, like the Emperor, was scowling and livid with fury.

  * * * * *

  Presently there appeared four men, stalwart warriors as totallydifferent in aspect from the Atlanteans as humans might be. The tworaces were alike only in splendid physical proportions and humanfigures. They, the Jarmuthians, were black haired and dark skinned,whereas the Atlanteans, with the exception of Sir Henry's progeny,were red headed. Truculently the half naked ambassadors strode overthe polished floor, which reflected their rude images. Their hairychests, arms and legs afforded a sharp contrast to the neat Atlanteannobles, who drew back with expressions of disgust.

  "Good God!" gasped Nelson in lively surprise. "A bunch of the boysfrom Seventh Avenue!"

  It was true: each Jarmuthian clearly betrayed his Hebraic origin inhuge, fleshy nose and pendulous lower lip, so characteristic of theSemitic race. They were fierce, shaggy fellows, naked from the waistup save for a kind of jointed body armor, reminiscent of a Romanlegionnaire's. Their long abundant blue-black hair was either plaitedor flowed uncut over splendidly muscled shoulders. Their beards on theother hand were short and frizzed into tight curls, in the Assyrianmanner. On each man's head was set a highly polished, pointed casqueof copper, surmounted in each instance by the six-pointed star ofSolomon. Otherwise the brutal looking emissaries wore nothing butdirty, food-spotted kilts and rough hide sandals secured by thongs.

  * * * * *

  With all the insolence and self assurance of conquerors in thepresence of slaves the four jet-eyed ambassadors swaggered up to thediamond throne. Then the foremost briefly inclined his head towardsAltorius in a grudging salute and began to speak in deep, resonanttones.

  From that point Nelson could understand nothing of the conversation asit was carried on in the guttural and unintelligible language of thatlost realm, but, from time to time Hero John found opportunity totranslate an occasional phrase.

  Darker and darker grew the brows of the gorgeously attired Emperor andhis eagle-visaged Captain-General as they listened to the pompousoratory of the foremost Jarmuthian, and in dark fury more than oneAtlantean noble half drew his sword when the speaker fell silent atlast.

  "He said," the younger Atlantean whispered, "that Jereboam is nolonger satisfied with six maidens. Beelzebub demands a furtheroffering of six more damsels to be delivered before the third divisionof time on the morrow. By Saturn! The insolence of these besottedswine passes all tolerance!"

  From the Atlantean Emperor's outraged negative gestures, Nelsonsurmised that Altorius was making an emphatic refusal and even addingsome vicious threat. The foremost Jarmuthian slapped huge dirty handson armored hips and fell to laughing with an insolence that would haveprovoked a rabbit.

  * * * * *

  Forgetting dignity and self-control, Altorius, in a single tigerishleap sprang from his throne and knocked the mocker senseless with apowerful blow to the jaw. Then, spurning the fallen Jarmuthian with asandaled foot, the Atlantean fixed blazing eyes upon the three otherambassadors who, nothing daunted, closed up, muttering savagely intheir frizzed black beards, while their hands sought the spot whereswords would normally have hung.

  "Nice right to the jaw," commented Nelson with a grin. "He's stillEnglish enough to use his fists." He turned to Hero John, who stoodwith an expression of horror on his comely features. "What caused therow?"

  "Verily, our plight is grave indeed. That braggart dog threatened tomarch on Heliopolis in the first division of morning, and,"--HeroJohn's lips compressed into a hopeless, taut expression--"ourreinforcing phalanxes can never arrive in time to defend Cierum atthat hour. Should the defense fail, as it must--since they outnumberus three to one for the nonce--it would cost us many thousands of mento stay the blood-hungry hordes of Jereboam once freed on the greatplain."

  Like a star shell bursting on a cloudy night came the inception of anidea.

  "Here," cried Nelson, "I've an idea! Maybe I can fix a stall until therest of your boys do a General Phil Sheridan and get here."

  Hero John's blue eyes widened uncomprehendingly. "What?" he demanded."What dost thou propose?"

  * * * * *

  Nelson's hand crept to his head, for the unaccustomed weight and heatof the helmet made it itch. "You say these bright boys from over theborder want to chow six more girls? Am I right?"

  "Yea, oh Friend Nelson, they demand the victims to-morrow morn, elsethey advance."

  "All right." Nelson was thinking fast now, a dreadful vision ofRichard Alden stretched for sacrifice on the brass altar of Beelzebubever floating before his aching eyes. "Tell those Semites that theycan have those six girls _if_ they can take them away from me."

  A puzzled frown creased the younger Hero's brow and he tuggedthoughtfully at his scant yellow beard. "Prithee pardon me, but I donot comprehend."

  "All right, get this now! Tell the Jarmuthians that they can send sixof their biggest and best scrappers, one for each girl. If they cantake any one of those girls away from me, they take them all--takingme as well--and we'll all get the works in Jezreel together. But, onthe other hand, if I kill their six champions, then Alden is returnedunharmed, the six girls come home and the six other girls come backtoo--and there'll be no more hostages. I don't think they'll agree toor even consider surrendering Your Princess, Altara. I'm sorry I can'taccomplish that, too. But if I can stop this annual tribute, it won'tbe so bad, will it?"

  * * * * *

  Rounder and rounder grew the Atlantean's eyes, and he gaped like aschool boy in a side show.

  "What sayest thou? Thou alone to overcome six of their best warriors?Nay, but this is folly! Moonshine! What knowest thou of theirweapons?"

  "Nothing," admitted Nelson, "but I do know Brother Winchester here."He patted the smooth stock. "He's mighty persuasive, properlyhandled."

  "But they are armored! They have the fungus bombs, the light retortiiand the javelin!"

  "Righto!" agreed Nelson a trifle carelessly, "but you don't know whatthis old boy can do when he's put to it. Well?"

  "By Saturn!" An uncertain ring crept into the Atlantean Prince'svoice. "A moment, while I address His Splendor."

  "I'm a fool, a damn fool!" thought Nelson. "Still, it's Alden's onlychance--unless the Jarmuthians've got some trick I'm not on to, Iought to stand a fighting chance." Meanwhile Emperor andCaptain-General drew to one side, listening to Hero John's impassionedoratory. That the idea met with disapproval, Nelson quietly recognizedfrom the incredulous, even contemptuous, glances Altorius shot at him.Leaving the four sneering Jarmuthians under guard of the nobles, theEmperor came striding impatiently over the inlaid floor.

  "What madness is this?" he demanded harshly. "Dost thou realize whatwould hang upon thy skill? If thou shouldst fail, our annual hostagefor the divine Altara would be twelve instead of six of our maidens.Further, the dog-conceived Jereboam would wax unbearably overweeningand insolent. Nay, there is too much at hazard! Though outnumbered wewill give battle in the morning."

  "Yes?" demanded Nelson, in turn impatient. "A fine chance you'd stand!Why, less than half of your army is here at Cerium and Hero John tellsme that the enemy have massed their entire forces on the salient ofPoseidon. Isn't that so?"

  * * * * *

  Altorius' handsome brow darkened. "Aye," he admitted, "but ourreinforcing corps will come up before the third hour of the thirddivision."

  Here Hero Giles broke in and, speaking with the quick, impassionedtones of one whose reactions are violent, pled for confidence in theAmerican. "Nay, fair cousin," he replied, casting a sidewise look atthe Jarmuthians standing in muttered colloquy with their leader, whohad now gotten to his feet and was angrily dabbing the blood from hischin with the hem of his yellow kiltlike garment. "I saw with mine owneyes what miracles Friend Nelson doth perform with his curiousnoise-making retortii. If Jereboam falls upon us ere our regiments ar
emarshaled, then, verily, are we doomed. We have no choice but to playfor time. Harken to the counsel of Hero John! Methinks this strangerfrom the Ice World is no braggart. He will fight well. If he loses hedies horribly--that he knows. The thought will strengthen his arms,and if he wins--!"

  Then broke in Nelson firmly. "If I win I must have the word of YourMajesty that Alden and I are to be afforded all help and free passageto that place where your soldiers captured my friend. It thatunderstood?"

  Altorius' blue eyes shifted and there was a slight hesitation in hismanner. Then, coming to a decision, he whirled and extended his hand.

  "Good, 'tis agreed," he said. "On my head be it. Have patience whileHero Giles confers with these outlandish dogs."

  It was with intense interest that the anxious aviator watched theensuing conference. He could see the four Jarmuthians listening, darkeyes restlessly flitting back and forth, and their mouths twisted intocontemptuous half snarls. Then, as Nelson's offer was made clear, alook of cunning seemed to creep into the eyes of the leader. He askedfor clarification of several points, then, being informed of thedetails, his thick lips parted in an evil, crafty grin.

  * * * * *

  Taken aback at the suspiciously ready acquiescence of the enemy, HeroGiles turned about. "They agree," he translated, "that, should FriendNelson win, they will return to their own land, they will forfeit theannual tribute forever and return the other stranger unharmed. Theyspeak fair, but I fear--" He bit his lips in perplexity. "These dogs,who talk with the forked tongues of serpents, plan some snare, somecunning trickery."

  "Repeat the terms." Altorius seemed gripped with apprehension too."Let all be clearly understood: at the third division of morning willthe wanderer fight six warriors. No more and no less."

  This was agreed and reaffirmed. Then, with an insolent, triumphantlaugh, the Jarmuthian delegation whirled about and stalked from theroom, their dark greaved legs flashing in military unison over thepolished floor.

  "'Tis done," quoth Hero Giles gloomily. "The encounter will take placeon the plain of Gilboa at the third hour of the third division. Andmay Saturn help us if thy might fails. Friend Nelson! For then surelywill the hordes of Jarmuth despoil us and there will come a desolationand a darkness upon the Empire of Atlans."

  CHAPTER V

  It seemed incredibly soon that Victor Nelson found himself stridingout from the serrated ranks of the Atlantean army which, drawn up in arough diamond formation, looked discouragingly small in comparison tothat vast sea of helmets twinkling ominously across the plain ofPoseidon amid a haze of bright yellow dust which climbed lazily intothe breathless heavens. The Jarmuthian army, numbering perhaps sixtyor seventy thousand effective troops, lay encamped in a great salientformed by a convolution of the Apidanus and formed the only Jarmuthiantract of the great valley lying south of the boiling river.

  Like low-lying snow drifts, the sheen of the enemy tents struckNelson's eye as he strode over the bright green turf to battle forRichard Alden's life.

  "There was something back of those nasty grins of the ambassadors," hereflected. "I wonder what deviltry they're cooking up?"

  He glanced at a stalwart Atlantean herald who, nervous in the extreme,clutched his brazen, dolphin-shaped horn and followed in theAmerican's wake together with a sad little company. Weeping, moaningand dressed in plain black robes marched six really lovely girls--theywho would perish on Beelzebub's altar if Nelson failed. Bitter werethe looks of the guards as they secured the hands of the victims andmany the hopeful look cast at the impassive American when they turnedback, leaving the helpless girls to their fate.

  The ground where the one-sided duel was to take place was marked offby means of little yellow flags on a level plain perhaps a quarter ofa mile long and wide. Arriving on the nearest border Nelson brieflymotioned the herald to halt.

  "Might as well start shooting at the best range possible, and beattheir steam throwers," he decided. "Wish to the devil I'd a few morecartridges. Only thirteen shots between me and Beelzeebub's altar inJezreel, so I'd better not miss. All right, son, toot your horn."

  * * * * *

  With his thumb be gestured the command, whereupon the Atlantean noddedeagerly and, filling his chest, set horn to lips to blow a long,strident note that rang harshly, boldly out over the great plain.

  While the note of the challenge rang out, Nelson's eyes turned back toregard the Atlantean array and detected, far in the rear, a hugepillar of dust which must mark the progress of the Atlanteanreinforcements. Would they arrive at Cierum in time? Then his eyessought that spot where Altorius and his staff sat anxiously on theirpodokos, watching intently the impending struggle. Very clearly theflash of their armor came to him.

  "I guess, like the girls back there, they're kind of nervous andjumpy," thought Nelson. "Well, I don't blame them. I've had quietermoments myself."

  Having blown three blasts, the Atlantean herald saluted; then, withdisconcerting haste, made his way back to the ranks of his fellowssome two hundred yards away.

  From the Jarmuthian army came an answering blast. Nelson cast a lastlook on the Atlantean army, breathlessly awaiting the impending duel.There was the allosauri corps on the far left; he could see thechimeric monsters' long, repulsive necks writhing endlessly back andforth through the air as they squealed and tugged strongly at theirrestraining chains. On the right were stationed perhaps ten thousandpodokesons, their slender, yellow-shafted lances swaying like asapling forest in the distance. In the center were eleven thousandprotection infantry, green-crested and armed with compact tanks ofblue-maxima vapor, fungus bombs and swords. Behind them, andcorresponding to heavy infantry, were ranged some twenty thousandblue-plumed hoplites, eagerly fingering the brazen hoses of theirdeath dealing portable retortii.

  * * * * *

  Nelson had no time to further study the array, for he whirled about asfrom the Atlantean army arose a deep, horrified shout. He stoodparalyzed, his jaw slack. For there, waddling slowly forward, came themost fantastic huge creature imaginable. Unspeakably repellent andhorrible, it stood on short legs thick as mature trees, to tower atleast thirty-five feet above the ground at the fore-shoulders! Animmense reptilian neck some twenty-five feet long weaved continuouslyback and forth, while a surprisingly small, bullet-shaped head emittedrumbling grunts.

  "Great God!" gasped the horrified aviator, and felt the ground swayunder him. "It must be ninety feet long!"

  Paralyzed by a dreadful fascination he watched the ungainly, hill-likereptile shuffle ponderously forward and realized that, high on itsback, was fixed a small fort, rather like those howdahs or boxes whichare fastened to the backs of elephants. Chilled with the nearness ofdeath, Nelson counted six mail-clad warriors in the howdah. Then thetrue import of the Jarmuthians evil jest struck him with full force.

  "Six men, they said. And six men there are--but the treacherous devilsmounted them on that walking hill-side! Guess Altorius can kiss hissix girls good-by right now. Poor Alden! Well, I did my best--a rottentrick."

  * * * * *

  At that moment he felt as an ant must feel on beholding the approachof a human. It was terrifying, the inexorable advance of thatcolossal, fantastic monster. From behind he could hear the infuriatedshouts of the Atlantean army. They knew even he could not hope towithstand the murderous onslaught of the beast now entering theduelling space.

  On came the diplodocus, its vast warty tail trailing over the groundand raising a heavy column of dust, while its mud smeared sides boreout Hero Giles' statement that here was one of those semi-aquatictitans from the steaming swamps of Jarmuth.

  "Hell! Poor Alden's as good as finished now! What a fool I was tothink I could save him!"

  Obedient to an overwhelming fear, Nelson whirled to flee, thenstopped, as, from the depths of his being, a stronger power forbadehim to desert his friend to certain death.

  "Range two hundred and fi
fty yards," he estimated, and, whipping upthe Winchester, sighted full at the ponderous creature's slimysnakelike head. When the recoil jarred his shoulder, Nelson droppedthe barrel an inch or so to watch. Nothing happened. The great beastwas advancing as before, its incredibly long neck weaving steadilyback and forth as though to sniff the air.

  "Hell!"

  Struck by a sudden thought, he snatched a cartridge from his pocketand, with that strength which comes to men in their hour of mortalperil, wrenched out the metal-jacketed bullet, to reinsert itbackwards into the brass cartridge case.

  Meanwhile the vast brute had drawn nearer, crushing flat a young oakin its path as easily as though it had been a wheat stalk.

  "Maybe this dum-dum will do some good," panted Nelson. "If it doesn't,nothing will stop it!"

  * * * * *

  Again he sighted until, finding those small, orange red eyes in linewith his sight, he fired. This time the gray-brown monster uttered atitantic bellow of rage, halted, and began shaking its clumsy blunthead.

  "Hit it, by God!" exulted Nelson, and seized the momentary respite toslip two fresh cartridges into the Winchester's magazine.

  But, to his inexpressible dismay, the monster presently resumed itsponderous progress while the Jarmuthians in the howdah utteredtaunting yells that reached him faintly, while the sun flares glintedon their brandished swords and lances. One of them plucked a fungusgrenade from his belt and flung it with all his might in Nelson'sdirection. The missile fell to the earth far short of its destinationand seemed to break rather than explode, at the same time expellingthat deadly, greenish-yellow vapor which, blown away by a strong wind,fortunately came nowhere near the doomed aviator.

  "Oh! You will?"

  Nelson sighted swiftly at the grenade-thrower and fired, whereupon theJarmuthian, some hundred and fifty yards distant, spun crazily about,flung both arms towards the amber-yellow sky and toppled from thehowdah, for all the world like a diver in quest of pearls.

  From both breathless armies rose a terrific shout. Accustomed as theywere to the visible destruction of the retortii, this noisy yetinvisible death was appalling.

  But Nelson's agonized attention was not on the assembled armies, fornearer came the mountainous diplodocus, its lumbering strides makingthe howdah sway like a ship in a gale and preventing use of theportable retortii.

  * * * * *

  Nelson planted both feet, took fresh grip on his waning courage andshot again, this time aiming at a gigantic, black bearded warrior whoseemed to be training one of those portable retortii upon him.

  Again the Winchester cracked and this time the black bearded man sankfrom sight back into the howdah, while his companions, utteringvengeful shouts, tossed more fungus bombs at the lone heroic figurebarring their progress towards the six bound and shrieking maidens.

  Towering thrice as high as the largest African elephant, thediplodocus was now but seventy-five yards away. He had hit it, thatNelson could tell, for a large shower of blood sprayed from themonster's neck. Then, uttering a despairing curse, he sent a shotsmacking squarely into the left shoulder, at the base of that mastlikeneck with fervent hope of finding the heart. But the heavy bulletbothered the cyclopean reptile no more than a sting of a mosquito.

  On, on it came. In another minute it must stamp out Victor Nelson'slife beneath feet as large as hogsheads.

  "Damn!"

  Nelson snapped the ejector lever, throwing out the spent cartridge.

  "No use," he whispered, "can't faze that hill of meat! But I might aswell kill all of those bloody cannibals I can."

  With amazing speed and accuracy he picked off two of the remainingJarmuthians, whose shining, bronze armor could nowise withstand thewicked impact of modern nickel-jacketed bullets. One of the strickenmen for a moment dangled with the last of his strength from one of thechains securing the howdah to the enormous creature's back, thentumbled heavily some forty feet to the earth.

  Only two shots more in the magazine--! Nelson suddenly found himselfvery cool. "Two shots and then--"

  He was conscious of that great, snakelike head darting viciously inhis direction. A huge, slobbering mouth, studded with teeth a footlong, yawned redly before him like a nightmare incarnate, blotting outconsciousness of all else. Then Victor Nelson, fighting to control hisstrumming nerves, deliberately sighted into a great, orange coloredeye, saw the narrow black iris over the Winchester's front sight andknew the huge warty head was not ten feet away.

  * * * * *

  He pressed the trigger and never heard the report, but felt the blastof a furnace-hot breath in his face--a breath that stank like the foulreek of burning rubber.

  With a detached sense of surprise he saw the eye miraculously anddreadfully disintegrate; then, as the bitter smell of burned corditestung his nostrils, he sprang violently sidewise to find himselfstaring up at the howdah, now towering at least forty feet above.

  The next few moments were indescribable. Horrible roars and bellows,loud as those of a thousand angered bulls, shattered the air. Thediplodocus halted, stunned by pain and the partial loss of eyesight;then, its infinitesimal brain becoming gripped with fear, it plungedand lumbered sidewise, nearly shaking the warriors from the howdah,where they clung for dear life. Nelson was barely able to avoid thesweep of the powerful tail as the diplodocus wheeled about on hindlegs, reeled and started blindly back towards the Jarmuthian ranks.Suddenly it stood stock still, shaking with super-elephantine motions.Then, for all the world like a balky mule, it sank to the earth andcowered there, despite the frantic efforts of the survivingJarmuthians to stir it to obedience.

  By the strong amber light of the sun flare Nelson had a vision of thelast two warriors swinging in apelike agility to the ground. They weregiants, those two men of Jarmuth, and their conical helmets addedadditional stature. One of them, shouting an unintelligible taunt,reached for his belt to snatch out a fungus bomb, but Nelson, droppingon one knee, sent a bullet crashing between the Jarmuthian's scowlingeyes. Even as he fell, the last of the six champions unwisely ignoredhis retortii and frantically sprang forward, razor-edged swordupraised.

  Nelson frantically worked the ejector lever but only an empty clickresulted! His heart sank. "Hell! the magazine's empty!"

  * * * * *

  He had just time to swing the Winchester about and grasp its barrel asthe Jarmuthian, with a loud shout, sprang in, slashing viciously atNelson's unprotected neck. Using the clubbed rifle like a baseballbat, the American struck out with the strength of despair. There camea resonant clang as blade and barrel encountered each other. Steel isever stronger than bronze, so Nelson had the satisfaction of seeingthe Jarmuthian's sword blade break squarely in two near the hilt.

  Horrified, the black bearded warrior glanced at the empty hilt in hishand but, courageous to the end, sprang in like a tiger to grapplewith that small, agile man in khaki and serge.

  "You would--eh?" gasped Nelson.

  Putting all his strength behind a blow he whirled up the heavyWinchester, struck out and felt the solid walnut stock smash fair andsquare on the conical helmet. Like an eggshell the bronze helm brokeand the six-pointed star above went spinning off into the dust. As atree sways before it falls beneath a forester's ax, so the darkJarmuthian giant tottered, while the wide dusty plain of Poseidonechoed with a rumbling, incredulous shout.

  "There," choked Nelson, incredulous to be still alive, "I guessthat'll be about all for to-day."

  But he was wrong. From the ranks of Jarmuth rose a terrible, ominouscry and at the same time there broke out the sibilant hiss of athousand retortii. From the Atlantean army came an answering yell andNelson turned to race back to the shelter of Altorius' body-guard,pausing but to arouse the terrified hostages. Swiftly he cast loosetheir bonds and pointed to the nearest detachment of Atlanteans.Sobbing with joy the six girls fled for dear life just as the first ofthe allosauri went racing over the pla
ins. Screaming, all-powerful anduncanny war dogs, they bounded grotesquely high in the air, plungingstraight towards the Jarmuthian ranks which greeted them with asearing, billowing blast of their retortii. Though dozens of theterrible creatures fell kicking and writhing beneath the scaldingdischarge of the retortii, the main body, perhaps forty or fifty innumber, sprang like rending fiends into the dense packed masses ofJarmuthian infantry.

  * * * * *

  Of the ensuing battle, Nelson had but the most confused recollections.The dominating impression was that the fray was awesome, horriblebeyond power of description. He recalled feeding the five remainingcartridges into the magazine, then clapping on an Atlantean noble'shelmet. With Hero John at his side he joined in an furious headlongcharge of the podoko corps.

  Like a vast glittering wedge the gallant Atlantean lancers advancedunder shelter of the blue maxima vapor which, discharged by theprotectons or light infantry, dispelled the scalding steam cloudslaunched from the Jarmuthian portable retortii.

  "Halor van!" Hero John shouted the Atlantean war cry. "Halor van!Come Friend Nelson, this day shall the treacherous swine of Jarmuthdrown in their own blood! Halor van!"

  Nelson replied nothing. He was too busy drawing a bead on a gorgeouslyarrayed enemy officer who appeared to be directing the defence.

  Faster and faster rushed the podokos, forty, fifty miles an hour, acarnate thunderbolt hurled straight at the enemy center. Under a hotfire of grenades dozens of the lancers fell and once, when a fungusbomb broke near by, Nelson saw half a dozen Atlanteans tumble fromtheir saddles, the hideous yellow growths already sprouting fromnostrils, mouth and ears. The turmoil became deafening,indescribable--like the roar of a crowded subway.

  The American had a brief glimpse of a mountainous diplodocus assailedby half a dozen hissing, shrieking allosauri who, employing jaws andclaws, ripped great, shuddering chucks of flesh from the agonized andunwieldy monster on whose back the frantic Jarmuthians fought withterrible ferocity.

  * * * * *

  As agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped and worriedtheir prey. One of them clung like a bulldog to the doomed diplodocus'head, though the twenty-foot neck writhed and whirled frantically ineffort to shake it loose. Another allosaurus, whining with eagerness,actually clambered up the back of an assailed giant only to fall backunder the blast of a retortii mounted in the howdah. Bathed in livesteam, with bones showing through its melting, quivering flesh, theallosaurus collapsed backwards, but another instantly took its placeand, gaining its goal with a terrific leap, made a shambles of thehowdah, tearing the men in it apart as a lion does an antelope.

  Nelson found himself very busy. The charging podokesos were now in themidst of the Jarmuthian heavy infantry, slashing down at a maze ofyelling, black-bearded, Semitic faces. Once Nelson was nearlyspeared, shooting his assailant just as the lance glimmered over hisheart. Again he saw the Atlantean hoplites beaten back amid apestilential fog of fungus gas which stretched them in kicking,loathsome heaps on the dusty plain. The uproar became terrific,indescribable, as the whistling screams of the allosauri and thesaurean bellows of the diplodoci rose above the shouts of the soldieryto fill the dust-laden air with a dreadful clamor. The battle nowswayed critically; a feather's weight on either side and one armywould roll back in red, irretrievable ruin. It was the psychologicalinstant. Nelson sensed it unerringly.

  "Look!" shouted Hero John, dashing a rivulet of blood from his eyes,"there fights the dog-begotten Jereboam himself! Halor van! Smite, yesoldiers of Atlans! Smite!"

  Following the line of the outstretched hand. Nelson caught a glimpseof an enormous, eagle nosed warrior who, clad in gleaming, diamondstudded harness, fought like a paladin of old. Powerful as a dark Aresthe sable browed Jereboam raged among the dismayed Atlantean hoplites,beating them to earth with terrible ferocity.

  * * * * *

  It was a long shot, one he might readily have been forgiven in missingbut with the speed of thought Victor Nelson sprang from his podoko,dropped on one knee behind a pile of corpses and, uttering a ferventprayer, fired full at Jereboam's black head.

  The nearest combatants drew back momentarily at the unfamiliar thunderof the report and fell silent while the groans and shrieks of thewounded rose loud. As a man looking through many thickness of glass,so Nelson saw Jereboam reel on his splendidly caparisoned podoko,clasp both hands to his forehead and sink to earth.

  Hero Giles, somewhere far in the Atlantean van, saw what transpiredand capitalized it with the inspiration of a genius.

  "Jereboam is dead!" he shouted in ringing tones, and flashed his redstained sword. "Woe to Jarmuth this day! Smite, ye sons of Atlans. Woeto Jarmuth--Jereboam is fallen!"

  And smite hard the reinforced Atlanteans did. Filled with a newcourage they advanced so determinedly that the disconcerted anddismayed Jarmuthians broke and fled in a disastrous, panic-strickenrout back over the plain of Poseidon towards the boiling river.

  The ground was already carpeted with dead and with abandonedequipment, when fresh packs of allosauri were loosed on the fleeingJarmuthians to wreak havoc indescribable and, ere long, only thetriumphant, panting Atlanteans remained on the field.

  CHAPTER VI

  There was music and high revelry in the fortress of Cierum that night,and Victor Nelson, embarrassed and flushed with the extravagantadoration of all Atlans, sat by the Emperor Altorius' side waiting,watching for the appearance of a humbled Jarmuthian delegation.

  "Never since the world began has there been such a hero in Atlans!"cried Altorius, his face more Roman than ever. "Prithee tarry amongstus, Hero Nelson. Thou shalt be as my brother. A marble palace shaltthou have and twenty wives, each fair as those damsels which thouhast, by thy might, rescued from the profane altar of the fiend,Beelzebub!"

  "Thanks," laughed Nelson, and drained a goblet of tawny wine. "I'd bedelighted to stay, but the point is--He broke off short, for therecame a sudden tramp of feet at the door of the great hall and there,just visible above the green crests of the royal guards, he recognizedthat pale, drawn face which had haunted him ever since he had returnedto find the abandoned aeroplane.

  "Dick!" he shouted. "Dick Alden!"

  "Nelson!"

  With that same irresistible form which had won a certain Novemberclassic for Harvard, Richard Alden bucked and plunged through a doublerank of startled guards and came running across the marble floor, hiseyes lit with an unspeakable gladness.

  "Nelson! Nelson!" he panted. "What in hell are you doing up there?"

  "Oh!" replied the aviator with a joyous grin, "just visiting with myfriend, the Emperor."

  * * * * *

  Alden halted, on his handsome features a curious mixture of surpriseand delight. "The Emperor?" he stammered. "You sitting beside anEmperor?"

  "Would it not seem so?" inquired Altorius with a low laugh.

  "It would," chuckled Alden. "Victor Nelson, as I remember, always wasa good politician."

  "And," thought Nelson, "I'll have to be a damn sight better one to getus out of Atlans without injuring Altorius' feelings. I don't supposehe'll ever be able to realize that all the desirable things in theworld don't lie in this valley."

  Throngs of brilliantly armored and plumed officers and courtiers, someof them nursing wounds and bandaged heads, came up to hail the mightywanderer who had subdued the might of Jarmuth.

  Flushed and pleased, as is any normal man under well-earned praise,Nelson shook one wiry fist after another, while Alden chatted with theEmperor. Nobles, officers and courtiers all pressed close to fawn uponthe new hero--but, far back in the council chamber, a group of darkrobed priests were crowded together. Haranguing the priests was afierce, white bearded old man who seemed to be arguing violently.

  "Hum!" thought the American. "That's at least one outfit that doesn'tlike the way I part my hair. Wonder what devilment the priests arecooking up?"

&nb
sp; * * * * *

  He was not long in finding out, for the black robed arch-priestsuddenly left his group of underlings to boldly make his way forward,while princes, courtiers and warriors drew respectfully aside and benttheir heads.

  "Hail! All conquering Emperor!" The stern old man halted squarelybefore Altorius' gem encrusted throne, while Alden checked some remarkto look curiously down upon the hawk-featured arch-priest.

  Altorius flushed and the lines about his mouth tightened, from whichNelson guessed that there was more than a little bad blood between thespiritual and temporal heads of the empire.

  "What wouldst thou, oh Heracles?"

  "I would know why the all powerful Wanderer, of whom thou makest somuch, did not rescue Princess Altara?"

  The Emperor stiffened. "Her rescue, being impossible ofaccomplishment, was not nominated in the agreement," he said coldly."The Wanderer has in full carried out his share--and so shall we.Honored and beloved of Atlans, these great warriors shall abide amongus in peace."

  Here Nelson thought it wise to dispel any illusions Altorius mightentertain about their staying in Atlans. "No, oh Splendor: remember,our agreement was that, should I conquer the Jarmuthian champions,Alden and I were to be allowed to go free."

  "Nay, oh Splendor," fiercely broke in the arch-priest, "permit themnot to go. I tell thee the Princess Altara _must_ be restored toAtlans! Else,"--a distinct note of threat crept into the old man'svoice--"--else evil days shall fall upon this empire, and the line ofHudson will wither and fade."

  Up sprang Altorius in a towering rage. "Sirrah! Dost dare make threatsto thy liege lord?"

  * * * * *

  Fire flashed from the young Emperor's bright blue eyes, and undertheir fierce glare the old man quailed and stepped back with eyeslowered.

  "Altorius keeps his word," the Emperor thundered. "The strangers shallgo, though all the black-robed kites in the realm say me nay. The wordof a Hudsonian prince is as sure as the fire of Pelion. Get thee gone,rash priest!"

  A long moment, the two strangely contrasting figures glared at eachother, the young, splendid Emperor and the malevolent, withered oldman.

  "The Gods demand their daughter," cried Heracles in parting, "and woeto him who says them nay!"

  With this parting shot, the arch-priest turned and, scarlet faced,stalked from the council room, while Altorius threw back his head androared with laughter.

  "Come, oh ye Heroes, ye princes and captains! Come, let us makefestival before these mighty wanderers go their way!"

  Roar upon roar of enthusiasm echoed through the marble throne room,and Nelson would have felt wholly at ease had not that little knot ofpriests remained gathered like ill-omened carrion crows about thedoor. Muttering among themselves, they were watching him with acurious intentness that aroused deep misgivings in the American'smind, and it was with something like a sigh that he joined theprocession forming to proceed to the triumphal feast on which thewealth and luxury of the whole empire of Atlans had been lavished.

  (_To be continued._)

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