Astounding Stories, March, 1931

Astounding Stories, March, 1931 Page 4

by Various

  Phalanxes of Atlans

  _By F. V. W. Mason_

  CONCLUSION

  WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE

  _Yes, there came a strange, but welcome sight._]

  [Sidenote: Never did an aviator ride a more amazing sky-steed thanAlden on his desperate dash to the great Jarmuthian Ziggurat.]

  Victor Nelson and Richard Alden are forced down on a flight over anunexplored Arctic region. Returning from a hunt for food, Nelson findshis companion gone; but many footprints and blood splashes establish aclear trail to a tunnel, passing beneath a range of very highmountains on the edge of the unexplored area. In following the trail,Nelson encounters and slays an allosaurus, a terrible, carnivorousspecies of dinosaur surviving from the Cretaceous era.

  Then he presses on to presently emerge in an almost tropical valleyand encounter a remnant of the long lost Atlantean race, who are ruledby a dynasty of English-speaking kings--descendants of Sir HenryHudson, who had wandered into Atlans after being abandoned by his men.

  This valley in the Arctic owes its existence to the thinness of theearth's crust, which permits the interior heat to warm the surface.

  The Atlanteans are on the verge of war with another race, theJarmuthians, descended from the Lost Tribes of Israel, when Nelson istransported to Heliopolis, the Atlantean Capital, for trial. Allstrangers must prove their value to the State or be condemned to feedthe war monsters.

  Nelson soon discovers that Alden had been captured from the Atlanteansby the Jarmuthians. He strikes a bargain with Altorius, Emperor ofAtlans. He will undertake to fight any six of the enemy on conditionhe and Alden will be released if successful.

  Altorius agrees to Nelson's suggestion and makes a proposal to theJarmuthians. Heretofore he had been paying them an annual tribute ofsix maidens, as price for the safety of Altara, Sacred Virgin ofAtlans, whom Jarmuth had captured in a previous war. With Nelson'sbargain in mind he offers an increase of six maidens to the annualtribute, if the American fails to defeat six Jarmuthian champions. Onthe other hand, if Nelson wins, all tribute will cease, Altara willnot be sacrificed, and Alden is to be returned unharmed.

  On a dueling ground between the rival armies Nelson, armed with hisWinchester rifle, sallies out to battle with the enemy, who, on theirside, are armed with retortii--curious weapons hurling livesteam--fungus bombs, swords and lances.

  The tricky Jarmuthians, however, mount their men on a diplodocus, ahuge dinosaur some eighty-seven feet in length. All seems lost; but byblinding the colossal creature, Nelson destroys its usefulness, andone by one kills the six Jarmuthians.

  Stung with rage, the enemy disregard the terms of the contest andattack with their whole army. They are, however, defeated, and theconquered Jarmuthians sullenly turn over Alden and the captivemaidens; though Altara still remains in their possession.

  After making much of the Americans, Altorius reluctantly allows hispreservers to depart for their plane--unconscious that the priestlyparty is planning rebellion against his authority because he did notinsist on Altara's return.

  CHAPTER VII

  "That's one of the fixed retortiis I was speaking about," remarkedVictor Nelson as he paused to point out a tapering brass tube whichwas mounted on a platform above the long staircase up which he andAlden were toiling. "It's a big brute: see how small the gunners lookbeside it? These steam guns are wonderful things."

  The younger aviator sighed. "I've had enough of miracles," he saidwiping his flushed features and hitching a small pack higher on hisleather-clad shoulders. "All I want to do is to lay my weary eyes onthe plane again. What with these ghastly allosauri, diplodocuses andother monsters, I'm damn well fed up with this place."

  Nelson settled his Winchester rifle more comfortably into the hollowof his arm. "Correct. So am I. But we can't say Altorius didn't doright by our Nell. Good Lord, what a triumph he gave us!" The darkpilot's smile flashed from beneath his neat, close-clipped blackmustache. "Wait till Cartier gets a peep at those diamonds he gaveus."

  Panting, the two halted by mutual consent. "Ever see so many stairs?"grunted Nelson. "Three more flights and we'll be into the tunnel; ah,there's the opening. I only hope these blighters haven't hurt theplane."

  Before resuming the climb Nelson shifted his rifle, idly regarding thearmored gunners just above; then suddenly he stiffened his wiry bodywith a sharp cry. "Look out, Dick! What the devil? Those damn foolsahead are swinging the retortii across our--"

  * * * * *

  The dark haired aviator's words were drowned out in a deafening,hissing roar that burst from the great retortii's throat, and hisheart gave a great convulsive leap at the sight. Was this anaccident--or treachery? An accident of course. Somehow he could notbring himself to think that Altorius would break his pledged word.Projected in a shimmering white arm the scalding death vapor shotacross the staircase, its hot breath licking the faces of the startledand angry Americans, and quickly forcing them to turn and rundownwards to avoid being scalded.

  "What the devil are these idiots trying to do?" gasped Nelson,anxiously eyeing the red-crested warriors who, peering down throughthe blue lenses of their helmets, watched the khaki-clad aviators butmade no effort to realign their retortii. "Hero Giles'll skin thosefools alive if he hears of this. Guess we'd better wait a minute:they'll soon shut off the steam."

  Shielding his face from the steam clouds that obliterated all view ofthe staircase above, Alden stood watching the billowing steam cloudsin silent awe.

  "Terrible, aren't they, Vic?" he remarked. "I've never seen those bigfellows in action. They make the portable variety look like waterpistols."

  * * * * *

  As the steam barrier showed no signs of abating, an uneasy gleam creptinto Nelson's dark eye, and with jaw grimly set, he cocked theWinchester and turned with the intention of lodging a complaint at thenext station below; but, to his utter dismay, he beheld bronze armoredfigures on the next platform now training their long-muzzled steam gunacross the stair. Even as he sprang back, the deadly white vaporhissed forth from the second retortii, completely barring furtherretreat down the stair. Like an icy flood the chill of impending doominvaded Nelson's soul. This was no accidental discharge, for with theslightest change of direction in the deflection of either retortii,death would descend upon him and his companion.

  Swiftly speech became impossible, as the roar of the huge retortii wasdeafening; the two were lost in the heart of an opaque cloud whichcompletely blotted out the copper-hued Atlantean sky. Hot blood surgedinto Nelson's head while he became aware of ghostly and stealthyfigures advancing through the shimmering billows of vapor. Up, up,they came, like dream men, their eyes weird and unreal. Cursing thetreachery of their late host, Nelson and Alden watched dozens upondozens of hoplites come swarming up the stairs in solid,dully-gleaming ranks. Apparently intent to take them prisoners, theforemost Atlanteans made a rush, giving the American time to fire justtwice.

  Unable to retreat, the helpless aviators stood to meet the engulfingwave of hoplites. Nelson struck out as hard as he could at thoseyelling, red-bearded faces, though he knew the effort was hopeless. Hewas dimly conscious that Alden, not far away, also fought with thevigor of despair.

  With a sense of savage satisfaction, the dark haired aviator felt hisfist impact solidly into a yelling, sweating face; then somethingstruck his head and, amid a miniature sunburst, his senseless formsank limply on the damp stones of the great staircase.

  * * * * *

  After an interval, the length of which he did not know, Victor Nelsonopened his eyes slowly, for his head throbbed like a savage's wardrum. Uttering a stifled groan he shut the lids to still anoverpowering sense of nausea which gripped him, but a moment later hemade another attempt to discover in what sort of place he foundhimself. Gradually, his eyes became accustomed to a curious orange-redglare beyond a series of bars. Bars? The idea fixed itself in hisbenumbed brain; bars meant prison! Yes, those
grim blank walls boreout the assumption. He lay on the damp stone floor of what must be afairly spacious cell. Beneath his leather aviator's jacket heshuddered. "Jail, eh? What a nice place to wake up in!"

  A groan from behind him prompted Nelson to painfully raise his headand look about. He blinked dazedly, meanwhile trying to focus hiseyes, then he heaved a faint sigh of relief as his gaze encounteredthe muscular, well-proportioned figure of Richard Alden, who half sat,half reclined, against one of the grey stone walls, burying a ghastlypale face between trembling hands.

  "You hurt?" To speak, Nelson drew a slightly deeper breath and at oncebecame conscious of a horrible, throat-wrenching stench. Dimly, herecalled having once before encountered such an odor; when was it? Oh,yes; during the Great War when he'd stumbled into a dugout tenanted bylong unburied corpses. A cold finger stabbed at his brain. Corpses.

  "Are you hurt, Dick?" he repeated hoarsely.

  * * * * *

  The lax figure stirred and Alden's blonde head was raised slowly. "Idon't know." His voice came very thickly. "I--I'm still dizzy. What'shappened?"

  "Damned if I know; but those bright boys have evidently heaved us intoa calaboose of some kind!"

  Nelson, on peering about, had discovered that one end of the cell wasclosed only by a series of massive bronze bars; the two other wallswere solid masonry; while the fourth was also solid but fitted with asmall oval door of bronze.

  "Calaboose? The hell you say!" Alden coughed feebly. "My God, but thatsteam was terrible stuff. I nearly smothered before I got knockedout."

  Slowly, the younger aviator looked about, and suddenly his eyeswidened in an expression of indescribable horror.

  "Look!" Alden's voice had died to a shaken whisper. "My God, Nelson,we're finished! Look at that allosaurus!"

  * * * * *

  Following the line indicated by the pilot's shaking forefinger, Nelsonpeered out through the series of great bars while a shudder shook hisaching body. Though he had seen these fearful monsters on manyoccasions, yet it was never from such a position as that in which henow found himself. To his ears came a sibilant hissing like that of athousand serpents; and, quivering in every nerve, he forced his eyesopen once again, to discover that the cell which he and his companionoccupied was but one of a series of cells surrounding a huge square inwhich were imprisoned perhaps twenty or thirty of those horrible,gargoylesque creatures which were the Atlantean dogs of war. Somethirty-four feet in length, the enormous, slate-grey monsters hoppedleisurely about, their warty hides and huge luminous eyes betrayingtheir reptilian origin. In shape the allosauri resembled loathsome andtitanic kangaroos as they lumbered awkwardly to and fro, pickingviciously at what appeared to be fragments of human flesh and bones.

  While the two prisoners crouched paralyzed with horror, one of thenightmarish creatures came hopping over and, pressing a head as big asa steam scoop against the bars, stared in with huge, pale green eyes.A long minute the ghastly creature remained looking in, clearlyoutlined by the orange glow from outside.

  * * * * *

  The doomed aviators found something fearfully fascinating about thosenarrow vertical irises set in pupils the size of dinner plates.Uttering a deep growl, the allosaurus shuffled nearer, and impatientlyrubbed its huge, bullet head against the bars; then gripped theponderous bronze bars with its ridiculously small front legs to shakethe whole grille-work with a savagery that dislocated bits of plasterand made the metal reverberate. While Nelson and Alden shrank flatagainst the far wall, a scarlet tongue at least four feet longflicked the air but a few feet from their bloodless, sweating visages.Becoming irritated at the sturdiness of the barrier, the mountainousreptile tugged harder and hissed, filling the cell with a foulexhalation that stank like the reeks of smoldering rags.

  Nelson's wavering consciousness reeled, and a mad, dreadful fear, likethat a dreamer suffers in the grip of nightmare, invaded his being. Hefelt the hairs rising on the nape of his neck.

  But, with a squall of rage, the monster abandoned its futile effortsand leaped away. Feigning indifference, the allosaurus picked up ahalf-gnawed skull with its tiny forelegs; and, while the prisonerswatched, it stuffed the head into a maw twice the size of anelephant's and crunched the gruesome tidbit as easily as a boy would awalnut. Presently it shuffled off to rejoin the hideous herd in thecenter of the court.

  "Nice kind of a jail we've been thrown into. Wish I could understandwhat's happened." Alden buried his face in his hands. "It kind oflooks as though Altorius had a change of heart."

  * * * * *

  Nelson replied nothing, but sat staring fixedly out into the horriblecourt.

  "Somehow, I don't think Altorius would do such a thing," he said atlast. "Let's think back and see if we can't piece this treacherytogether."

  "Wish I had your faith in the Emperor--but I haven't." Alden'shandsome face twisted itself into a wry smile.

  "Let's see, now," persisted Nelson, fingering a square jaw upon whichsprouted a thick growth of reddish bristles. "There was a deputationof priests to see Altorius yesterday. They were clamoring for thereturn of Altara--the Sacred Virgin--and looked pretty mad when he putthem off."

  "Maybe this is the private doing of the priests," admitted Alden."Anyway, we're in one devil of a fix. There's certainly no way out ofthis calaboose--and those damned brutes out there look hungry."

  Nelson frowned, deep in thought. "Wish I could find a reasonableexplanation. I really don't think it's Altorius; still, that's whatyou get for mixing in on the politics of these forgotten kingdoms."

  "But," reminded the other, "you had no choice, old lad. Remember, youmixed in to save me."

  From across the courtyard rang a loud, penetrating shriek of fear thatmade the two aviators spring to their feet and rush to the bars.Peering across the court, they discovered three naked men shriekingand clinging frantically to the bars of an exactly similar cell.

  "What's wrong with them?" demanded Alden as the agonized screams ranglouder still.

  "I don't know," was Alden's breathless reply. "But what's that noise?"

  A curious metallic clanking sound filled the poisoned air, and for amoment Nelson remained utterly puzzled. Then, as the noise grewlouder, the allosauri commenced to betray a strange restlessness. Theyceased basking and feeding, and their hideous heads commenced to dartquickly this way and that.

  * * * * *

  While the terrific shrieks of the wretches across the court rang tothe copper-hued sky, the two Americans remained in doubt; then all atonce the chill of death gripped their hearts, as they saw the bars ofthat cell directly opposite slowly but surely rising! Utteringheart-rending cries, the doomed prisoners clung frantically to staythe vanishing barrier separating them from those appalling man-eaters.But, disdainful of their pitiful efforts, the bronze bars roserelentlessly with metallic rattlings and janglings from some unseenmechanism.

  Rooted to the floor, both Americans watched the distant grille vanishinto the upper stone-work and heard the ghastly hissing as theallosauri herd commenced to move forward. Sick and shaken, Nelsonbeheld one of the doomed men cling in desperation to the bars; he waslifted clear of the floor and borne towards the ceiling, meanwhileventing his terror with such screams as could otherwise have risenonly from an inquisitor's torture chamber.

  The tragedy was swiftly completed. Half a dozen of the nearestallosauri, taller than any giraffes, suddenly sprang forward, theirlong, naked tails rising as their gait increased. Snarling horribly,the vast slate-colored beasts plunged into the cell, terminatingshrieks of mortal terror. Backs broader than bus tops squirmed andtugged, then one of the loathsome monsters reappeared carrying in itsdripping jaws a mangled, yet struggling victim much as a cat carries amouse. In a trice the other allosauri came rushing eagerly up, seekingto snatch the prey from the first monster.

  Nelson stiffened. "Great God! And that's what'
ll happen to us!"

  * * * * *

  Weakened by his head wound, and blind with nausea, he stumbled to therear of the cell to collapse upon a pile of foul straw, littered withequipment which the superstitious captors must have condemned togetherwith the owners.

  Nelson sank upon them, then stiffened, for his outflung hand hadencountered a hard, familiar outline. It was a .45 automatic pistol.

  A moment's furious search revealed that the captors had missed or notunderstood the use of the weapon in Alden's leather flying coat.

  "God, but we're lucky," Nelson panted. "The Atlanteans never saw thispistol of yours. They're only used to my rifle."

  Hope lit Alden's features, then faded. "But what good is a .45against brutes like those? Might at well have a pop gun!"

  "Still we're lucky," grunted Nelson, delighted to find the magazineyet filled. "Can't tell what's ahead. Yes, we're the luckiest--"

  He broke off in quick alarm. From overhead had come a premonitoryclang! Somewhere a tackle whined and, with a sense of suffocation,both men realised that now the bars of _their_ prison were beginningto creep up into a long slit in the stone ceiling!

  Cold fingers of fear clutched Nelson's heart as the terribleallosauri, their jaws yet dripping redly, wheeled about at thefamiliar sound--to stand listening. Up and up crept the ponderousgrille, while the allosauri commenced to shuffle forward, fixing ontheir next victims enormous, unblinking green eyes.

  * * * * *

  While the whole loathsome cell spun about, Victor Nelson forced stifffingers to throw off the safety catch as the nearest allosaurus openedits cavernous mouth in anticipation, displaying an array of curvedteeth, as long and sharp as bayonets. Standing some fifteen feet highat the shoulder the horrible creature's body was; it all but blottedout the light. The bars rose inexorably. Now they were waist high....Now above Nelson's head.... In a moment would come the rush.

  Richard Alden stood up straight and squared his shoulders. "Good-by,Vic," he said, in clear, unafraid tones. "I don't imagine that .45will even tickle those ghastly brutes."

  Nelson nodded. "All over but the cheering," he replied with thatstrange, macabre humor which often comes to solace men about to die.

  "See you in church." There was an equally gallant lightness to Alden'sreply.

  The dark haired pilot, with a curious, detached sense of unreality,stepped into the middle of the room, the automatic in his hand seemingno more potent than a water pistol, for a ponderous, lambent eyedmonster was now hopping forward. While minute particles of dust anddirt rained down from the disappearing barrier, the foremostallosaurus opened its enormous jaws, uttered an eery scream andcharged straight at the unbarred cell.

  Drawing a deep breath, Nelson raised the .45, sighted, and,remembering his former experience, fired at the enormous right eye. Asin a dream, he felt the recoil. The monster neither slowed nor swervedin the least, though its great, saucer-like eye disintegratedhorribly. Immediately Nelson swiftly sighted at the other eye andfired, just as the allosaurus' shadow filled the threshold.

  _Crack!_ A swirl of bitter smoke stung the aviator's staring eyes.He'd hit; he knew it!

  * * * * *

  Cyclopean moments followed as the blinded monster dashed forward,missed the circular door, and, butting his head against the stone wallto the left, fell completely stunned, effectively blocking the doorwaywith its huge body. One enormous hind leg, fully ten feet long, andequipped with three razor-like claws, projected into the cell andlashed aimlessly back and forth, forcing the two prisoners to dodgewildly.

  There ensued that indescribable kind of a moment when men go mad.Outside the cell the ravenous herd pounced upon their fallen mate andwith hideous grunts and snarls promptly commenced to tear it apart.The shaken prisoners realized that the rending jaws would before longundoubtedly remove the temporary obstacle; but meanwhile the hideoushissing and the fetid stench of the allosauri breath made the cell amad-house.

  Gradually, the gigantic carcass at the door commenced to quiver androll violently under the ferocious tugs of the eager feasters. A gapof light appeared over the huge haunches, and, all at once, anotherof those terrible heads slipped over the carcass and into the cell.

  Again the .45 thundered, lighting the darkened cell with a brieforange flame. A noise like the furious trumpeting of a dozen elephantsnearly blew Nelson flat as the wounded monster drew back its head, butthe respite promised to be short, for the other reptiles onlyre-doubled their horrid, cannibalistic rending of the carcass. Whenthe barrier was removed there would be a general rush which the shakenaviators could not hope to stay.

  * * * * *

  Suddenly, Alden uttered a low shout and pointed to the small, ovaldoor which had, up to this point, remained securely bolted and shut.It was swinging gradually open, rimmed with a strong reddish light.

  Wide-eyed, and with black hair streaming lank over his forehead,Nelson, in the act of reloading, swung about to meet this new menace.Hell! What point was there in prolonging the pitiful struggle? Whatwas happening?

  Slowly, the door swung back, and a rosy glow lit the opening, a glowthat became as strong as the gleam of a spotlight. Then, slowly, aglittering, green-crested helmet of highly polished bronze appeared,and, under it, Hero Giles' familiar features, now distorted by aterrible fear. The blue eyes seemed enormous. "Quickly!" he called."Quick or ye are lost!"

  Unbelieving of the reprieve, both the aviators stared an instant atthat martial figure clad in brazen armor liberally studded withenormous diamonds and emeralds, then leaped forward with the speed ofdesperation, for from behind came a fierce squalling from theallosauri. As he darted towards the door Nelson had a glimpse of thecarcass blocking the door commencing to slip sidewise.

  Alden was already out and Nelson sped through the door barely in timeto escape the razor-sharp talons of the foremost allosaurus as itscrambled into the deserted cell with a resounding bellow ofdisappointed fury.

  CHAPTER VIII

  As the door clanged shut, drowning out the allosauri's furiousscreams, both aviators, shaken to the depths of their beings, could donothing but stare about them in surprise. Completely surrounding andprotecting the exit stood a double rank of hoplites in bronze armor.Like unreal automata, they remained utterly motionless, fixed in thevarious postures of an ancient Macedonian phalanx, their broad backsgleaming dully in the light of the neon flares. As in a dream, Nelsonrecognized on top of each spearsman's casque the graceful Atlanteanmilitary crest--a metal dolphin from the back of which sprouted aseries of bright blue feathers, arranged like a dorsal fin.

  "Thank Poseidon, ye still live!" cried Hero Giles, gripping theirhands eagerly. "I had fear for ye, oh my friends."

  Nelson grinned. "You cut the rescue act pretty fine, but of coursewe're damned grateful. And now,"--eagerly seizing the Hero'ssplendidly muscled arm--"in God's name tell us what's happened. Why wewere arrested and--nearly made into allosaurus fodder?"

  Hero Giles turned from snapping an order to a subaltern who waspeering down a great, shadowy hallway with a distinctly uneasy manner.

  "Much," he said. "Scarcely had ye two departed from Heliopolis thanthe priests, mad with rage over Altara's continued captivity, dared toseize the person of His Splendor and proclaim a regency. Herakles, thearch-priest is--"

  * * * * *

  From far down the gloomy, vaulted corridor came a faint sound, ratherlike the distant cheering of a crowd. The hoplites, standing about,turned their helmeted heads and stared uneasily, their brazen armorglowing dully with each movement.

  "I'll tell ye more later, but now--"--Hero Giles' voice took on aringing quality like the clash of steel--"there is work to be done. Torescue ye, oh Hero Nelson, I slew the guards at the lower gate, forthis prison lies in the hands of a caitiff rogue, Hero Edmund, one whoclings to the priestly party. We had best be off lest we be trappedand slaught
ered like rats in a pit."

  Very distinctly to the ears of the aviator now came the dull clash ofequipment and the tread of feet.

  "Forward! We must hasten to reach the podokos waiting below," criedHero Giles, settling his ponderous helmet more squarely on his leoninehead.

  At once the escort of fifteen-odd hoplites commenced to move down thecorridor to the left, their hands tightly gripping the butts of theirretortii pistols. At their head ran Hero Giles, and by his side Aldenand Victor Nelson, who gripped his .45 vowing never again to return tothat ghastly cell.

  A long ringing cry from the rear brought home the dread realizationthat the enemy had appeared. Looking back, Nelson could see the farend of the great corridor filled with menacing figures. Then his heartleaped like a deer in a thicket, for _from ahead_ sounded the clash ofweapons! The rescue party's retreat was cut off!

  * * * * *

  Hero Giles acted with the speed of a veteran accustomed toemergencies. "Forward!" he roared, making the bare walls reverberateand rumble with his voice. "_Halor van! Ula Storr!_"[1]

  [Footnote 1: Make ready for your retortii.]

  As by magic, there appeared before the retreating force a double rankof blue-crested hoplites who debouched from a side passage into thehall and clawed desperately for fungus bombs and retortii. Evidentlythey had not expected to come upon the invaders so abruptly.

  "_Storr!_" Like a brazen trumpet's call, the voice of Hero Giles rangout the order to fire--which was instantly drowned out in the furioushissing of the retortii of his followers.

  Ever watchful, Nelson fired at a gigantic officer who, avoiding thefirst steam jets, flung back his arms to hurl one of the deadly fungusbombs among the rescuers. Shattering the bronze helmet, the American'sbullet struck the Atlantean squarely between the eyes, butnevertheless the stricken officer's grenade rolled forward and burstamong the hindermost of Hero Giles' followers. Instantly, the deadlygreen mold flung itself upon the nearest hoplites and in a moment theycrashed to the smooth granite floor, the yellowish growths alreadysprouting from nose, mouth and ears.

  In the corridor reigned chaos, for Hero Giles' followers were nowturning the full fury of their retortii upon the rank of men barringfurther flight. With dreadful ease, the scalding steam struck dead theopposing warriors, stripping the flesh from their bones as easily as aboy peels a banana.

  Amid the swirling white clouds, Nelson had ghastly visions of yellowskulls, of steaming accoutrement, of limp heaps of disintegratingbodies; then silence fell, and, before he quite realized it, he,together with Alden and three hoplites who had survived the disastrousfungus grenade, were bounding along after Hero Giles' glitteringfigure as he led the way down one passage after another.

  * * * * *

  Louder than ever rang the fierce cry from the rear. Behind him Nelsoncould see dozens upon dozens of yelling pursuers, and knew that if hewere to live he must run as never before.

  Into a succession of spacious rooms dashed the fugitives; on throughdeserted armories where hundreds of bronze helmets dangled in orderlyrows; and across silent barrack halls.

  Closer and closer sounded the pursuing feet, spurring the runners toan even more headlong gait.

  All at once a door loomed to the right; into this darted Hero Gilesand after him pounded the two Americans and three hoplites. In aninstant the six men set their shoulder to the ponderous bronze doorand swung it to, just as the hiss of a retortii on the other side roseabove the mad, blood-hungry clamor of the momentarily baffled rebels.Gasping and sweat-bathed, the fugitives paused only an instant.

  "We've gained a short passage," gasped the Atlantean wrenching off hishelmet and breast plate. The veins stood out in great blue cords onhis forehead, for the weight of the armor could not have beeninconsiderable. "Below wait our podokos."

  Nelson stripped off his leather coat, following the example of thehoplites, who swiftly divested themselves of such cumbersome equipmentas could readily be removed. Then, while the shouts of the thwartedpursuers swelled like a demonic chorus, and while feathers of steamcrept under the great door, Hero Giles spun about and, with his shortyellow hair gleaming bright, led on down another series of passages.

  * * * * *

  All at once the fugitives, now reduced by exhaustion to five, foundthemselves on a balcony overlooking the great valley of Atlans. Beforethem opened an enormous staircase and down this they dashed at topspeed, infinitely relieved to be once more in the open air.

  Running like hunted stags, the fugitives had descended but a third ofthe great staircase, when, from behind, came a sudden, menacing crythat warned Nelson that the pursuers had, after going a longer wayaround, come once more in sight.

  "Ah! Poseidon blast the traitorous Edmund and his varlets! See?"panted Hero Giles pointing to a huge arch from beneath which wasissuing a glittering column of shouting, swift running warriors atwhose head dashed a splendidly-proportioned figure that must be HeroEdmund.

  With the speed of the hunted, Hero Giles bounded forward, taking threeand four steps at a stride, his jade green cloak snapping out behind.Down, ever downwards over the endless flight of stairs the aviatorsfollowed him until, spent and panting, the hard pressed five plungeddown a final circular staircase and so gained a courtyard where waiteda detachment of armored lancers whose yellow plumes and pennons shonebright in the glare of the flame suns. Staring anxiously upwards, thetroopers nevertheless stood to attention in an orderly rank besidethose curious Atlantean mounts called podokos.

  During all his sojourn in Atlans, Nelson had never become used to thehideous and awe-inspiring podokos which closely resembled theallosauri but were only eighteen feet long. Like the other monsters,they had tremendously developed hind legs which promised the speed nowso vital for escape and safety. Ready in the tooth-studded jaws ofeach podoko was fitted a bronze bit together with a bridle and reins;and cinched up on each creature's back was one of those curiousAtlantean saddles, which was built up at the cantle to overcome thedownward slope of the podokos' spines.

  Need for vital haste was but too obvious and, as he drew near, HeroGiles gasped the command to be off.

  "Quick," he shouted, his scarred visage flushed and sweat-bathed."Saddles! Speed! Speed! Cling fast as your beasts arise!"

  * * * * *

  All five literally hurled themselves into gorgeously caparisonedsaddles. Instantly, the urging squatting podokos leaped to their feet.

  It was the work of a moment for Nelson to wrench his reptile around,for already Alden and the Atlantean cavalrymen were speeding acrossthe wide paved court, their lance pennons fluttering bravely in theorange-hued glare.

  At top speed the rescuers dashed for a great, oval gateway while thepodokos increased their gait; like aero-planes gathering speed, thefaster the weird creatures traveled, the higher arose their tails.

  Then, following the frightened, backward glances of the hard-riding,red-haired lancers, Nelson suddenly discovered a new and terriblecause for this headlong flight, for, issuing from an unbarred gateway,came perhaps a dozen of _the terrible and enormous allosauri_, which,spying the fleeing cavalry, instantly gave chase.

  With a sense of despair, the aviators heard the ferocious bellowsbooming from behind and watched the appallingly swift progress ofthose uncouth monsters as, leaping high into the air, the allosauricovered between fifty and sixty feet at a single bound.

  "They'll get you," cried an inner voice in Nelson's being. "They'llcatch you sure." But the small and lithe podokos, sensing deathleaping up from the rear, stretched out their slender, snake-likeheads, stood on tiptoe, and, pressing their small forelegs tightagainst their chests, commenced to run far faster than any horse couldgallop. Nevertheless, the allosauri came bounding up like colossalkangaroos, uttering weird, screaming roars that brought a chill ofimminent death to the fugitives.

  Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, Nelson's blood froze to
findan allosaurus not more than seventy yards behind, and making terribleexertions to close that slender gap! Nearer and nearer coursed theincredible monster, body rocking in its terrific stride, dreadful jawswide apart--jaws that could, without an effort, cut a horse in half.

  * * * * *

  A fear such as he had never known racked Nelson's consciousness as hefound he was hindermost of the cavalcade, which was strung out like afield of racers. The other riders crouched low in their saddles likejockeys, lances held straight out before them, and furiously goadedtheir strange mounts with curious hooks. Nelson was vastly relieved toget a glimpse of Alden far in the lead, almost beside the AtlanteanPrince. His podoko was evidently better than the average.

  Faster and faster pursuers and pursued raced across level meadows,over straight, white roads and rolling grain fields. Wind whistledmadly in Nelson's ears, filled his eyes with tears, and made hisshort, dark hair snap, but two huge allosauri were now not twentyyards behind and _gaining with appalling speed!_

  On the verge of madness, Nelson hammered his heels into the podoko'sscaly side and wished he dared let go the saddle horn to draw hispistol, but to loose his grip was to risk falling off.

  Closer and closer! Two enormous nightmarish heads were actuallysnapping at the fleeing podoko's tail. Then fear must have inspiredthe reptile Nelson bestrode, for it put on a sudden desperate burst ofspeed which carried it past the next two lancers. In passing heglimpsed the doomed wretches, pale-faced and horrified, as theyfrantically goaded their failing podokos.

  A moment later, piercing screams from just behind assailed Nelson'sears, but when he looked to the rear once more it was to find that awide gap had opened between him and the great monsters behind.Evidently, the heavy-built allosauri were unable to long maintain theterrific pace set by the smaller and more agile podokos whose maximumspeed Nelson judged to be well over sixty miles an hour.

  * * * * *

  The pilot's eyes narrowed on beholding, in clear relief and not faraway, the majestic, whitish outline of mighty Heliopolis, whose loftytowers, graceful domes and frowning citadels shone pink under theleaping, blinding glare on Mount Pelion.

  "We certainly picked a nice time to drop in on this God-forsakencountry," grunted Alden as the walls of Heliopolis loomed near. "Weseem to have crashed into the busiest days they've had in centuries.How many shots you got?"

  Nelson, swaying to the steady trot of his podoko, hesitated.

  "Only five. Damned if I know what's going to happen next. I suppose itall depends on Hero Giles. Looks as though the nobles were bent onrestoring Altorius--if he's not dead by now."

  Alden tugged powerfully at the strange bridle which controlled hisbeast. "The priests wouldn't dare kill him, but it surely looks liketheir rebellion has gained a lot of headway."

  A moment Alden's clear, blue eyes swept the towering battlements,gorgeously-sculptured temples and curious stepped pyramids, which nowloomed near at hand and cast their rugged outlines sharp against thecopper-colored heavens.

  "Maybe there's some way we can work this revolution trouble to helpus," suggested Nelson, without enthusiasm. "If we could play off onecrowd against the other--"

  His remarks were cut short as the foremost lancers slowed before anenormous bronze gate looming ahead. On the vast main panel was abeautifully-wrought dolphin curling about a trident--symbol of theimperial power now so sorely tried. Beyond that gate, breathlesslymused Nelson, lay Heliopolis and an unknown fate.

  CHAPTER IX

  It would have taken no trained eye to observe that something veryunusual had happened in Atlans. Some of Heliopolis' many wide streetswere quite deserted save for several small, bright-red cat-likereptiles that the Atlanteans sheltered as pets, but in otherthoroughfares large throngs of people milled uneasily about, whilelistening to the impassioned harangue of black-robed priests.Everywhere business was at a standstill, shops were closed and marketstenantless.

  Riding at an easy hopping gallop, the aviators urged their green,scaly mounts to the side of Hero Giles, for here and there somewandering citizens, spying the Americans, would yell shrill curses andshake their fists. Reining in, Nelson demanded to know the reason forthis unaccountable hostility.

  "'Tis the work of our gentle and holy priests," explained Hero Gileswith a hard laugh. "They have told the populace ye are magiciansseeking to set other gods above Poseidon."

  "Nonsense," rapped the American, looking about uneasily. "We've nevergiven two thin damns about anything except getting back to our plane."

  "So I know," was the Atlantean's preoccupied reply; "but this spawn ofHerakles' temples speak loud, and the loutish populace hearkens totheir lies!"

  "But what the devil is all this revolt about?" broke in Alden. "Whywere we arrested? You started to tell us at the prison."

  * * * * *

  Hero Giles frowned as he pulled his podoko into a gracefully carvedgateway of green marble. "There's but little to add, for 'tis all verysimple. The priests have laid impious hands on His Splendor, Altorius,and imprisoned him in the great temple of Poseidon. We nobles havedefied the arch-priest, for the dog-conceived Jereboam alreadymarshals his forces for a fresh attack, knowing that Atlans is sorebeset by internal strife. Have patience for now we go to the councilchamber, where ye shall hear everything."

  To say that the newcomers found the council of nobles in a furorewould be to put it mildly. Their angry voices carried far down thebeautifully ornamented corridors of the Imperial Palace, which wasused as headquarters.

  "Sounds like a dog-fight going on in there," muttered Alden anxiously."Don't like the sound of it a bit. I hope they feel kindly towardsus."

  Nelson, swinging along with his ragged shirt fluttering like ascarecrow's, nodded. "Yes, so do I. But I guess they need our help orHero Giles wouldn't have risked his life to save us."

  Conscious of the value of appearances, the dark-haired aviatorunconsciously straightened his frayed black tie, buttoned the sleevesof his khaki flannel shirt and otherwise made pathetic attempts atimproving his appearance as the clamor of wrangling voices grew louddown the corridor.

  His wide shoulders swinging to his stride, Hero Giles flung open adoor, beautifully wrought with leaping podokos, and halted on thethreshold.

  "Death!" rumbled a voice from inside. "I say death to the Wanderers!Let us make our peace with the priests, lest they slay His Splendorforthwith."

  "And that's what I call a nice friendly greeting," was Alden'smurmured comment. "Better get your gat handy, Vic. I'll bet they'vegot a reception committee of retortii men behind the door."

  * * * * *

  There was no time for Nelson to reply because now the threshold was athand. Inside, seated at a table, he had an impression of perhaps tenor fifteen scarred and angry-looking veteran nobles whose green cloaksand bejeweled armor revealed their high rank.

  In mid-dispute they halted, eyeing the three figures in the doorwaywith curiously conflicting expressions. Some smiled a relievedwelcome, some stared in surprise, but not a few greeted the Americanswith lowering brows and angry, threatening eyes.

  "Harken," Hero Giles greeted them. "By Poseidon's grace the Wandererswere saved from a vile death. Rise Heroes, and bid them welcome!"

  "Ah, the Wanderers!" In an instant Hero John was wringing Nelson'shand. "Oh blessed hour! I had feared for ye both. Welcome, HeroAlden!"

  A faint flush crept over the young man's wan and trouble-lined face."'Tis well ye've come," he whispered. "The council was prepared tochange their intent towards ye."

  A grizzled, one-eyed prince arose, and leveling an accusing forefingerat Nelson shouted, "'Tis he hath caused the rebellion. Slay him!"

  "Nay!" thundered the Hero Giles, "and forget not, Hero Paul--_I_ amsenior Prince of Atlans!"

  * * * * *

  In the great white marble council chamber silence fell, while fromwonde
rfully carved ivory and gold chairs the harassed, yellow-beardedprinces regarded the two uneasy Americans.

  "Hearken, Hero Giles!" rasped another dark-browed officer in a plain,much-dented red breast plate. "I side with Paul. Away with them, Isay! Time is too precious. Do not the dark hordes of Jereboam beatback our frontiers?"

  Hero Giles glowered and sat bolt upright in his chair--a strangedisordered figure among his gorgeously robed and armored peers. "Thouwert ever a hothead! I prithee pause a moment! Remember how thedark-haired Wanderer once aided our imprisoned Emperor, whom Poseidonprotect! Perchance, Hero Nelson and his friend once more can aid us inthis, our hour of need."

  A chorus of variously opined voices broke out, while Nelson with aneye to possible violence stood ready.

  "Silence! Sirrah!" The fierce old veteran banged a powerful fist on agolden dolphin head forming his chair arm. "This idle wranglingaccomplishes naught, and a thousand weighty matters await ourattention. Is it true the phalanxes at Tricca have risen for thepriests?"

  * * * * *

  _Map of Jarmuth and Atlans_]

  Before Hero Giles could reply, a stalwart guard at the door flung itopen to admit a dust and sweat-bathed courier who, darting forward,flung himself at Hero Giles' no less dusty feet. While theyellow-haired Prince started back muttering in amazement, the runnerraised a shaking hand.

  "Woe, woe to Atlans!" he panted. "Jarmuthian retortii men have crossedthe boiling river. Cierum is fallen! Its garrison is drenched inclouds of fungus gas. But a handful escaped!"

  "Speak on: is that all?" A terribly intent expression crept over theaquiline faces around the council table.

  "Nay, spare thy servant!" begged the green kilted courier, raisingsweaty, imploring hands. "I--I dare not--"

  "Speak!" snarled Hero Giles, his blue eyes terribly lit. "Speak!--elsethy carcass shall be flung to the pteranodons."

  Wild-eyed, the fellow blinked fearfully about. The grim-lipped noblesedged closer. Nelson, realizing all that lay at stake, watchedintently, conscious that Alden was now by his side.

  "I--I, Her Sacred Holiness, Altara--." The messenger's red facetwitched and he choked as in terror.

  "Altara!" The name reechoed weirdly from a dozen dry throats, andNelson saw the skin suddenly pale and tighten over Hero John's face.

  "What of the divine Altara, fool?" he thundered in a dreadful, shakenmonotone. "Have those foul swine of Jarmuth dared--?"

  "Forgive, oh Hero!" cried the groveling courier, his long red hairsweeping the marble floor. "The dog-sired Jereboam hath madeproclamation in Jezreel that the Sacred Virgin is doomed to perish onthe altar of Beelzebub, their demon god, in two days' time!"

  "What?" The great marble-walled chamber was shaken by an unearthlyoutcry as horror and rage struggled for mastery in the circle of tensefaces surrounding the momentarily forgotten aviators.

  Bedlam broke loose, while Hero Giles sat as though stunned, staring onthe shivering runner at his feet.

  Nelson, very much on the alert, could see that the announcement ofAltara's impending death had produced nothing short of a cataclysm inthe plans of the council.

  * * * * *

  Like men paralyzed by electric shocks, the yellow bearded veterans andnobles sat stupefied, frozen in their last gesture. Then, in the midstof their silent despair, came the sound of a curious, high-pitchedhorn that had in its note something of the eery wail of a fire siren.The effect was magical, for the nobles sprang up, hands on sword hiltsand eyes searching the corridor.

  "The priests!" gasped a short, broad-shouldered noble at Altorius'left. "By Poseidon! 'Tis the fanfare of the Herakles himself."

  Then indeed did the council glower, for, as Nelson soon learned,Herakles was the moving spirit and evil genius of that priestly partywhich had dared to imprison the Emperor.

  Again the horn wailed its warning of the arch-priest's approach,whereat a stalwart hoplite in green painted armor clanked in, salutedstiffly and waited for Hero Giles' instructions.

  "Bid the old man enter," directed the Prince at last. "Tell thegraybeard he has naught to fear if he comes alone. Otherwise, bid himreturn to his kennel in the temples."

  A moment after the hoplite had vanished, there appeared in the doorwaya tall, emaciated old man on whose silvery head was set a curiousgolden mitre ending in the shape of a wondrously bejewelled trident.The curious Americans noted that the arch-priest's robes were as blackas his evilly glittering eyes, and were embroidered with curiouscabalistic symbols done in silver thread. In his withered handHerakles carried a ceremonial trident--the mark of the Head Priest ofPoseidon.

  As though wary of advancing, the arch priest paused in the doorway,not three feet from where Nelson stood poised for action.

  * * * * *

  All at once the gaunt figure in black raised thin hands to the domefar overhead and cried in high-pitched prophetic tones:

  "Woe to Atlans! When perishes Altara, virgin of Poseidon the God-head,then shall a darkness fall on Atlans! Her cities shall be cast down,there will be a weeping and wailing in the land, for Beelzebub and hisfollowers shall prevail! Woe to Atlans and woe to ye all, blasphemousnobles!"

  Gripped by a superstitious awe, the generals and nobles fell into anuneasy silence, fearfully lowering their eyes and then glancingaskance at the plain khaki clad figures standing alert in theircorner.

  Nelson, defiantly meeting their eyes, beheld Hero Giles staringfixedly before him, his powerful shoulders bowed as though bearing anoverwhelming burden.

  Deeper grew the silence of disaster while the American furiouslysearched his mind for some means of thwarting the death in store forhim and his companion. By chance, a word of Hero Giles recurred, the"pteranodons." What in the devil was a pteranodon? He turned sidewiseto Alden who stood, hands in the pocket of his leather jacket, alsothinking deeply.

  "Dick," he whispered. "You studied paleontology at college. Do youremember what a pteranodon was?"

  "A what?" The younger aviator seemed to make a definite effort toreturn to the present. "A pteranodon? I'm not sure, Vic, but I thinkit was a kind of flying reptile related to the pterodactyl group."

  * * * * *

  He could go on no further, for Herakles, the arch-priest, raised hissnowy head suddenly, his eyes blazing. "To save Atlans in her hour oftrial, we demand that ye deliver to us the Wanderers. They shall dieas an offering to Ares, God of War. Perchance he will preserve us."The arch-priest's deep-set and glittering eyes swept with venomoushatred the two calm-featured aviators, who looked very plain andunromantic in their flying jackets and khaki serge. "We, familiars ofthe Gods, herewith demand that the blasphemers perish on the War God'saltar! Else shall ye all die unbeloved of the Gods!"

  "And we do your bidding, will ye give us back His Splendor?" demandedHero Giles.

  "Nay--we priests do not bargain like hucksters."

  Risking all, Nelson muttered a swift aside to Alden. "How big werethose pteranodons?"

  "Some species had a wing spread of twenty-five feet."

  The muscular pilot's mouth closed into a firm, colorless line as henodded and glanced at the vindictive old man who was by now white withfury.

  Up sprang a good three-quarters of the nobles present and turned onthe grim figure at the head of the board.

  "Surrender the Wanderers!" they shouted. "We demand it!"

  * * * * *

  In another instant the death sentence would have been forced on HeroGiles, but Victor Nelson leaped forward, pistol menacing the raginggray-bearded priest.

  "Listen, all of you!" he shouted in deep tones that were strangelyauthoritative. "Beware, foolish Princes, how you threaten us. Great isour knowledge and power: you've seen that already. Even now, the otherWanderer and I can save or ruin Atlans, as we wish! Have ye forgottenthe battle by Lake Copias?"

  The Princes, furious at the American's defiance, half ros
e, hand onsword hilt, but sank back at a swift, menacing gesture from Nelson'spistol.

  "What sayest thou, mad fellow?" screeched the arch-priest, his blackeyes bright as knife points. "Save Atlans--?" Fierce questioning wasin his sombre, sunken eyes.

  "I said," repeated Nelson, "that, if we choose, we can yet save yourAltara and the Emperor from death."

  "Impossible! He is mad!" shouted Paul, the one-eyed Hero. "Not theGods themselves could rescue Altara from the claws of the demonBeelzebub!" The nearest nobles flung themselves back in their chairsand snarled threats of all kinds as they gripped their sword hilts.

  Sensing an inescapable climax, the khaki-clad American raised hispistol, covering Hero Paul, the speaker. "Silence!" he rasped."You're a thick-headed idiot not to see the truth. Can this priestsave Altara? No! You know damned well he can't! And yet you'd have uskilled."

  "Now, Herakles," he swung on the priest, "about this Altara matter--ifyou'll restore Altorius unharmed, guarantee our safety, and punishthose liars who condemned us to death, the other Wanderer and I willundertake to not only prevent the sacrifice of Altara, but to bringthe Princess back as well!"

  * * * * *

  To all this Alden listened with increasing and indescribable dismay,his blue eyes round as marbles. "My God!" he whispered in anundertone. "What in the devil is Vic doing? _Undertake_ is _right_,the crazy fool!"

  "How will ye accomplish this mad boast?" demanded the arch-priest indeep suspicion. "Know ye that the Sacred Virgin lies captive in thedungeons of the great temple of Beelzebub? Know ye that this temple isin the center of Jezreel, capitol of Jarmuth?"

  "I had some idea that was the case."

  "Know ye," continued, the graybeard priest, "that Altara is everguarded by two thousand picked priests and warriors? Know ye,moreover, that this vile sacrifice will be made but two days hence?"

  The aviator's lean, dark head inclined with a serenity he far fromfelt.

  At this point the scarred veteran officer who had spoken before brokein, his face menacing. "Believe not this liar, oh Hero Giles! Hespeaks with a tongue made bold by fear. He promises that which hecannot accomplish!"

  Had Victor Nelson had time to reflect upon the weirdness of the planhe had evolved, he would probably have silently admitted that hisgrizzled accuser was more than a little justified, but as it was hesmiled serenely.

  From all sides rose a threatening shout. "Let the blasphemers besacrificed. Ares will protect us!"

  * * * * *

  His yellow brows knit, Hero Giles wavered, but as he hesitated thereran through a great circular window a distant yet menacing shout."Down with Altorius, the Unlucky! Down with the sons of Hudson! Giveback to the ancient Gods their Sacred Virgin. Hail to Ares! Death tothe Wanderers! Death! Death!"

  Drowning out these ominous cries there came from below the window thebrazen clang of trumpets and the clank of many armored men hurryingforward. Presently the mob's outcry grew fainter, but still the criesof "Death" could be heard.

  It was a tense moment. Would Hero Giles remain friendly? With poignantanxiety, Nelson watched that dishevelled martial head sink forward inperplexity.

  "Hero Giles," he warned, in a low voice. "You'd better trust us.You're risking nothing."

  Slowly, the fierce blue eyes of the veteran rose, and, meeting thelevel gray ones of the aviator, lingered there as though asking aquestion. Suddenly reaching a determination, he rose to his feet andaddressed the triumphantly grinning arch-priest, who tightly clutchedhis trident wand with thin, blue-veined fingers.

  "Hearken, black crow of a priest, who has dared lay foul hands on HisSplendor, the Emperor. This is my reply: show me how ye will rescueAltara; otherwise begone! My hand itches for the sword."

  * * * * *

  A deep silence fell while Herakles glowered helplessly, then shrewdlyavoided the trap. "This is blasphemy!" he croaked and raised aquivering forefinger in solemn warning. "Woe to thee, Hero Giles. Woeto the people! Fear the wrath of the Gods!

  "Jeer not, ye nobles!" Herakles stormed on. "Be not deceived by lies!I bid thee deliver these magicians to Ares, God of War!"

  A nasty moment; Nelson's heart drummed as he gazed down at the row ofuneasy, war-like faces, but Hero Giles proved the strength of hisheritage. Back went his patrician head; he drew himself up to fullheight and stared coldly upon the black robed priest, who, nothingdaunted, gave back look for look.

  "Nay! We keep them: they will bear out their promise. I give ye goodday, oh Holiness!"

  Quivering with rage Herakles raised his withered hand in anathema."Then perish, blind spawn of Hudson! Verily shall ye all die under thetorture. Woe! Woe! Woe!"

  Then, amid a strained silence, pregnant of distrust and disaster, theold man wheeled and stalked out.

  As he watched the departure, color drained from the Atlantean prince'shaggard features. "Ah," he observed bitterly, "ever have these blackcrows feasted on our land, and ever as birds of ill omen." He turnedand, with a weary sigh, surveyed the group of loyal, but anxioussouls. "I thank ye. Will ye still do my bidding and help to save oursovereign lord?"

  Out flashed the swords of a dozen-odd nobles as they raised thehoarse, ringing cry of "Altorius! Altorius! Supreme!"

  * * * * *

  A little later Nelson, before a very mistrustful gathering composed ofHero Giles, Hero John and two or three other veterans, traced thebarest outline of his plan.

  "You understand? I'm to be taken to the border as a prisoner; then, inplain sight of the enemy lines, the guards must maltreat me and turnme loose."

  The aviator searched one after another of the brutal, war-like faces,while Hero Giles translated for the benefit of two Atlantean generalswho did not speak the royal language.

  "Are you positive," Alden demanded of Hero John, "that this revolutionin Atlans will die out if Altara is returned?"

  "Yes! A thousand times yes!" The prince's fine eyes gleamed withsavage enthusiasm. "With the Sacred Virgin restored to Atlans, newcourage will come into the phalanxes! The priests will cease theiroutcries against them. Then, with the help of the blue maxima vapor,we will rend the dog-begotten followers of Jereboam limb from limb!"

  "All right." Nelson's wiry khaki-clad body bent far over the table."Remember, Hero Giles, that part of the fighting's up to you. When I'mgone, you'll do exactly what Alden tells you. Now, one thing more:what part of the border is still unquestionably loyal?"

  Hero Giles frowned and shrugged his armor-clad shoulders a littlehelplessly beneath the splendid cloak of imperial green. "The godsalone know; but at the third division of this morning, Mayda andThebes still vowed their loyalty. 'Tis there are quartered thephalanxes of the Imperial guards. They alone can I trust to thedeath."

  "All right." Bending over a huge parchment map of the valley, Nelsonnodded, and his keen black eyes became very serious. "I want you toconcentrate every man you can muster in each of those cities.Meanwhile tell the populace,"--he drew a deep breath--"that Altarawill certainly be returned to them."

  "Art thou sure?" broke in the scarred veteran in the dented breastplate; then, his brow dark with doubt, he engaged Hero Giles and therest in a heated, low-voiced colloquy.

  * * * * *

  Alden stepped near, an anxious frown on his unshaven features. "Thinkthis idea of yours is sure-fire?"

  "No," Nelson's lean head shook. "I'm far from sure. It's a wild gambleat best, but we can't be any worse off than we are now. If the priestswin out, we're sunk and no mistake about it; but there's a fightingchance my idea could be brought off."

  "Now look here," objected the younger pilot tensely. "What's this rotabout your going into Jarmuth alone? How d'you know they won't skinyou alive once you're over the border?"

  "I don't," admitted his friend, shrugging slightly. "But I don't seethere's anything but to take the risk. If I don't go over there, sureas shooting we're go
ing to feed some damn unpleasant kind of beasthere in Atlans.

  "Another thing," Nelson said, turning to the Hero who, surrounded bythe others, was bent in deep consultation over a map. "How am I toknow Altara if I see her? Is there a statue, a painting orsomething--?"

  The Hero's aquiline features lit in a slow smile. "Nay, we have betterthan that. Come, thou shalt see the Sacred Virgin as she now is."

  The members of the conference followed Hero Giles down a shortcorridor, through a couple of doors and into a chamber where a hugedisc of crystal stood on edge fixed upon an axis above a bewilderingarray of wires, pipes and gauges.

  * * * * *

  Hero John, who seemed familiar with the mechanism, turned a lever,whereupon the disc commenced to spin like a pie plate on a dancefloor. Faster and faster it spun, silently gathering speed each secondwhile a low humming sound filled the chamber. Gradually the outline ofthe whirling disk commenced to brighten, tinting the scar-seamed,craggy features of the Atlantean generals and picking glorious,glowing lights from the jewels on Hero Giles' wonderfully engravedbreastplate.

  "Ah." Hero John turned a small dial. "The crystal warms. Look, ohWanderers!"

  Nelson rubbed his eyes incredulously, for in the heart of theshimmering circle had materialized the outline of a room with walls ofyellow marble.

  "Well, I'm damned!" gasped Alden. "See how it flickers!"

  As the revolving disc of crystal gained top speed, the flickeringsubsided and a picture, clearer than most photographs, could be seenin the center. A wondrously slender, yellow-haired young girl clad inGrecian robes of pale blue sat in deep despond upon a plain woodencouch, with a black haired servant kneeling before her, apparentlylacing sandals on her tiny, pink-hued feet.

  "Bring closer the face," snapped Hero Giles gruffly.

  Gradually the focus changed, like the close-up of a movie camera,until in the center of the madly whirling disc could be seen in minutedetail and living color the face of an indescribably lovely girl.

  "Whew," muttered Nelson, staring in silent amazement. "No wonder theywant her back! She makes Ziegfeld's little girls look like Armenianrefugees." He cast a sidewise glance, but Alden had apparently notheard him; the younger American stood gazing with rapturous joy at thegirl.

  "Aye! Aye!" The two veteran generals uttered stifled groans and one ofthem drew a hand across his eyes. "Poseidon save her! Aye! Preservethe fair Altara."

  "Wouldst thou not doubly save her, now?" demanded Hero John in a lowvoice that bespoke his anguish. He seemed suddenly older than thegrim, helmeted veterans to either side.

  "You bet! I guess a man sees a face like that only once is a lifetime.And now," Nelson continued with an effort to return to the practical,"there's no time to be lost--so I'd just like to take a look at thosepteranodons of yours."

  * * * * *

  A few minutes later, the two aviators found themselves nearing a loftystructure which adjoined the imperial palace. It was constructed alongthe lines of an immense aviary. Between beautiful, glistening Ioniccolumns of white marble, gleamed bronze bars, set at regular intervalsto prevent the escape of the most appalling creatures which could everhave skimmed the air.

  "What in the devil is your idea?" demanded Alden, taken aback. "God,look at the loathsome brutes!"

  Some of these huge, flying reptiles were hopping awkwardly over theground picking at bones and refuse littering the floor with longpelican-like bills, which were, however, very much thicker than thoseof pelicans, and set with sharp teeth at least six inches long.

  "Not very pretty are they? Kind of look like huge bats," commentedNelson thoughtfully. "Wonder if they could be handled?"

  "Yes, their wings are leathery. Look at 'em up yonder." Alden pointedto the roof of that immense aviary where, hanging head downwards likegigantic bats, must have been hundreds upon hundreds of thepteranodons. One of them, whistling oddly, fluttered up to the bars,affording the Wanderers an excellent view of a loathsome head, theback of which ended in a curious sort of horn, that, projectingbackwards, jutted far above its rear. Fierce, vermillion eyes withgreen irises glared at the Americans through the bars, and great wingsof greasy-looking leather fanned a disgusting stench from the interiorof the aviary.

  * * * * *

  "Sweet little things," was Alden's comment. "God! Imagine having oneof those great things swooping down on you. Hey, Alden, look at thatbig devil over there! He must have a wing spread of thirty feet. Bigas a Moth plane, isn't he?"

  For answer the pteranodon clattered its vast beak savagely. One of thegenerals stooped and, catching up a huge slab of meat from a basketnearby, hurled it through the bars into the gaping jaws.

  "What would ye with these creature?" demanded Hero Giles withundisguised curiosity.

  "You'd be surprised." Nelson was not deliberately rude, but his mindwas wrapped up in the daring project he had evolved. "I want a coupleof the biggest of these caught and set aside in a courtyard wherethere will be no one looking on. If your people can train and handlepodokos and allosauri--I guess a couple of Yanks ought to be able tomanage these flying nightmares. So don't you worry about us."

  Hero Giles uttered grim, significant laugh. "Thou hadst best managethem. I note yonder pteranodon is in need of nourishment."

  CHAPTER X

  With sharp anxiety, Victor Nelson kept watching the towers of Jezreelrise ever clearer above the great, warm plain of Jarmuth, but, for allthat, he noted how distinctly Jezreel differed from Heliopolis. TheJarmuthian capital was predominantly amber-yellow instead of white incolor; its towers were flat-topped, angular, hideous structures thatcompared not at all favorably with the graceful Grecian architectureof Atlantean public buildings.

  The populace, he decided, as he strode along in the midst of half adozen silent guards, were as harsh and graceless as theirarchitecture. Whereas the Atlanteans had been white skinned anduniformly red haired--save for those of Hudsonian blood--theinhabitants of Jarmuth almost without exception were black haired andhad dark, olive-hued skins.

  "They're the lost tribes of Israel, all right," Nelson decided after abrief sojourn in that savage land lying beyond Apidanus--the greatboiling river, whose bubbling and scalding currents had for centuriesserved as a natural boundary between the two realms. But now theJarmuthian armies had crossed it and were steadily pushing back thedemoralized and despairing Atlanteans with savage energy that heapedthe dead in hillocks.

  "Their armor," mused the ragged, barefoot prisoner, studying hissilent guards, "looks a lot like a Roman legionnaire's, but that sixpointed star on their helmets is pure Semitic. Yes, this sure is anAsiatic outfit."

  His eyes wandered from one fierce, big-nosed infantryman to anotherand noted the splendid physical structure of the majority. Evidentlyhardier, much less refined and luxury-loving than the Atlanteans,these swart warriors disdained robes and other garments. Save forhelmet, armor and brief black kilts, they were quite naked. Like theAtlantean hoplites the infantrymen carried spears, steam retortii andquantities of grenades.

  The country side through which the prisoner passed had a holiday air,for garlands of flowers hung in every doorway, and naked, pot-belliedchildren squatted by the roadside, industriously weaving crowns andstreamers of gay blossoms.

  "Look, Atlantean dog!" commanded the black-bearded leader of theescort. "Let thine infidel eyes gaze upon the mightiest city of theworld. Seest thou yonder Ziggurat which o'er towers all others?"

  Nelson raised eyes red-rimmed from sleeplessness and deep anxiety--forthe crafty Jarmuthians had proved unexpectedly unwilling to credit himas the Atlantean outcast and would-be renegade he had pretended to be.

  "Yes," he said in reply to the English-speaking_jehar's_--captain's--question. "What's it for?"

  "'Tis the temple of the almighty Beelzebub, Steam God of Jarmuth.Without his hot breath no wheel would turn, our armies would bepowerless and this land would perish under the ice of the oute
rworld." The dark eyed officer's eye fell speculatively upon his boundand dust-covered prisoner. "Perchance, dog of a spy, thou wilt dieduring to-day's fourth division[2] together with Altara, pale daughterof the feeble, false god Poseidon."

  [Footnote 2: The Atlantean day was divided into six divisions of fourhours each; due to the flame suns there was no sunrise or sunset.]

  * * * * *

  This afternoon?

  Nelson could not realize that the time had flown so quickly. Fourshort hours separated him from the crisis of his life. A thousanddoubts assailed him. What if Alden or Hero Giles failed in their shareof the great scheme for rescue? Narrowly, the aviator's eye searchedthe great, rich plain, then swept the amber-hued sky where, far abovethe plain, Jilboa, the nearest flame sun, beat off the Arctic chilland darkness.

  The great, black-bearded jehar eased the straps from which wassuspended the brass coil of his retortii. "Aye," he chuckled, histhick lips parted in a crafty smile. "Ere long will the fair flesh ofAltara grace the ceremonial board of His Exaltation, the King, and hispriests and princes."

  Nelson gasped in horror. The divinely beautiful Altara--butchered formeat like a calf? Grotesque! Ghastly! "What! You eat your prisoners?"He felt sick, nauseated.

  For answer, the swart Jarmuthian raised an enormous hand and dealt thecaptive American a stinging cuff which made his teeth rattle.

  "Peace!" he snarled. "Else I slit thy spying throat ere we pass yonderwalls."

  Fingering a short blue-black beard that was frizzed into tight curlsin the Assyrian manner, the jehar lengthened his stride as the littledetachment clanked into the shadow of a great wall surroundingJezreel, and through a huge gate guarded by two hideous, jackal-headedeffigies.

  Hurrying into the city were throngs of eager men, women and children,interspersed with muscular, black bearded soldiers who castthreatening, baleful eyes on the pale-skinned prisoner.

  * * * * *

  At first the great metropolis of Jezreel seemed boundless, foreverywhere arose tall, massive monuments of yellow marble whosefacades were engraved with Sanskrit characters, thus bearing outNelson's surmise that this was indeed a race of Semitic origin.

  Here and there hurried grey-bearded, vulture-eyed priests oddly garbedin corrupt Occhive and Tyrian regalia. Nelson found it odd to see theTablet of the Laws, which Jarmuth so openly ignored, swaying on theiryellow robed breasts; and none cried out more menacingly nor moreloudly against the limping, wan-faced captive, than these sameecclesiastics, who must have long since forgotten all worship ofJehovah in the foul service of a bestial golden effigy.

  A stone sailed through the air, narrowly missing the American; thenanother, which struck his shoulder.

  "God, what a rough looking crowd," thought Nelson, as the guards,cursing, held back the screaming mob. "At this rate I won't live toeven reach the temple!"

  Every second his life stood in great danger. Unkempt, sloe-eyed womenhurled themselves, shrieking with fury, against the armored chests ofthe guards, who were hard pressed to beat them off with their spearhafts.

  Nelson's one small ray of comfort in this evil hour was the fact thathis .45 pistol remained untouched in a food wallet. At the border thejehar had cast one contemptuous glance at the weapon, but, no doubtdeeming it some strange culinary tool, he had made no effort to removeit.

  It was a continual struggle for the guards to win their way up a longflight of stairs, for ever the great stream of humanity grew denserand more menacing.

  * * * * *

  Nelson felt a violent sense of revolt grip his being. "I must winfree," he thought. "If I fail, Alden dies, and--and--" For the firsttime he realised how much he wanted to actually see Altara. Like aclear cameo, an image of her had remained fresh in his memory. Exceptfor her Grecian garments she might have been a lovely, carefreeEnglish or American girl.

  "And these decadent swine would sacrifice her!" The thought wassickening. Yet how could he prevent the pitiful tragedy?

  Fortunately, a detachment of troops--tall, sinewy fellows with conicalhelmets, crested with six-pointed stars--reenforced the guards just asclawing hands began to snatch and tug at the prisoner's raggedAtlantean chiton of blue cotton.

  Almost before he realized it, Nelson was dragged inside a great gloomybuilding and into a circular chamber where four eagle-featured elderssat in council beneath the six-pointed star of Sem. On approaching,the jehar in command sank on one knee and in humble salute raised bothhands to the tribunal.

  "A tough looking desk sergeant they've got," muttered the prisoner tohimself as his eye met the chilling regard of a lean, yellow-facedpriest. "Wonder what I'm booked for?" Idiotically, he recalled beingsummoned before a traffic court, years back. "Guess I don't get offwith vagrancy; it'll probably be everything from speeding to mayhem,with maybe arson and well-poisoning thrown in."

  The deliberations of this ominous court proved to be appallinglyshort. The dour-faced elders merely put their heads together, muttereda few sentences, then straightened up almost immediately. The chiefpriest--he with the yellow face--thrust out his fist and made theimmemorial signal of death by jerking his thumb at the black marblefloor.

  * * * * *

  Before the outraged and astounded aviator could utter a word ofprotest, powerful guards seized and hauled him off down a dark, narrowpassageway in which the fetid prison smell was very strong. Too wiseto struggle against overwhelming odds, yet appalled at the thought ofhis impending doom, Nelson was dragged into a room where four or fivefurtive, enslaved Atlanteans, made dumb by the removal of theirtongues, were engaged in a curious occupation.

  On a bare stone bench, five other Atlantean captives were sitting inmiserable silence. They made a grotesque array, for their heads werecrowned with gay yellow and blue flowers, and the upper half of theirperfectly formed bodies gleamed with an application of asweet-smelling oil. About their wrists and waists were twined fragrantgarlands of yellow roses which hid the leather straps confining theirhands.

  Struggling, Nelson was forced on to the bench, whereupon slaves,skipping to avoid the lash of a scarred, olive-hued slave driver,hurried to wash the newly arrived prisoner's limbs, face and hands. Aweary-looking old slave with sunken, rheumy eyes listlessly pulled theblue chiton from Nelson's broad shoulders, and would have removed thefood pouch had not the prisoner winked vigorously. The ministeringslave glanced swiftly sidewise and, discovering the slave driver'sattention directed to another corner, pulled the upper folds of thechiton over the food pouch and its precious contents, then set a crownof yellow roses more or less askew on the American's head. For all theperil of the situation Nelson could not suppress a fleeting smile asthe phrase, "For I'm to be Queen of the May, Mother," leapednonsensically into his brain.

  * * * * *

  "Yes, I guess they are getting us all dolled up for a sacrifice ofsome kind." Nelson's heart began to pound at the thought. Then hefought for self control. It must be a hideously realistic nightmare!He, Victor Nelson, American citizen, a quiet birdman, member of theCaterpillar Club and ex-flight commander of the A. E. F. was about tobe offered as a sacrifice to some hideous, pagan god? Nonsense! He'dwake up in a minute and hear the drone of a ship on the line.

  He blinked, staring fixedly at a single ray of light that camestreaming in through a small, barred window, then glanced sidewise athis fellow victims, who with Spartan indifference sat waiting for theend of all things. It was no dream!

  From the tiny window came the shrill discordant braying of manytrumpets, and a roar like that of a football crowd arose surprisinglynear. In response, the slave driver lashed the gaudily bedeckedsacrificial victims to their feet with vicious cuts of his pliantwhip, and herded them like a drove of calves down a very long passage,lit at intervals by those strange column lamps of incandescent gas. Intheir red glare the doomed six seemed as though already bathed inblood.

 
"Must be some crowd of people outside," muttered Nelson as a greatgale of sound deafened him. Yonder the amber glare of the flame sunsglimmered, and now it was his turn to step into the open!

  * * * * *

  On a sort of spiral roadway he paused, breathless, awed, bewildered,for there, eddying restlessly about the bases of towers and other hugestructures, was a great sea of up-turned faces. To his surprise hefound the passage he had followed opened perhaps halfway up what mustbe the great Ziggurat of Beelzebub. He judged the tower's height mustbe immense, for already the crowd was a good hundred feet below.

  "_Zarotoa! Zarotoa! u Wlanka!_"[3]

  Nelson shivered. How terrible was the wild, bloodthirsty clamor ofthat vast throng, when they beheld the six flower-decked prisonersappear upon the circular winding road which led to the lofty andwind-swept summit of the great conical pyramid of the people ofJezreel.

  [Footnote 3: Death to the victims!]

  Behind the victims marched perhaps eighteen or twenty spearmengorgeously uniformed in yellow and black painted armor. Theirretortii were plated with gold, and in the center of a star formingthe crest of each helmet was set a diamond large as a hickory nut.

  Preceding the despairing prisoners marched a squad of tall,clean-shaven priests with great gold hoops in their ears. They blewmightily upon long, curved horns, and were followed by perhaps a dozenlithe, posturing girls, half clothed in diaphanous yellow robes. Thesepriestesses swung golden censers which flung bluish clouds of aromaticsmoke high into the humid air above.

  * * * * *

  Up and up, around and around the great tower temple, Nelson wasdragged, while the vast city of Jezreel, palaces, towers, courts,dwellings and all, lay like a great panorama below. Up and up, and thewind grew stronger while Nelson marvelled at the great height of thestructure he was mounting. Immediately in front of him swayed thenaked shoulders of the three captive Atlanteans; he could see rosepetals from their crowns fluttering in the strong warm breeze sweepingthat man-made pinnacle for the worship of a heathen god.

  Despairingly, the American's eyes searched the horizon, to discovernothing but a few great birds wheeling lazily in the bronze-hued sky.Very clearly he could discern three of the flame suns, casting flamehigh from their peaks.

  "Alden!" he groaned. "Oh God, Alden, don't fail me!"

  Chilled by the fate in store, he scanned the dark and hostile facesbelow, but found no friendly visage.

  Up and up. The procession was now nearing the summit.

  There were hosts of poignant problems before him, each vital if Altaraand the Empire of Atlans were to be saved; but one primary questionimmediately confronted him. How could he get his hands free? Heventured a few words in English to the stolid Atlantean at his side,whereat the fellow only stared dully and shook his red, flower-crownedhead.

  He next tried to cautiously work loose his hands, but to no avail. Therope of plaited skin binding his aching wrists together was tough asany rawhide. Cursing, he abandoned the effort, and, as his eyes oncemore swept the great bloodthirsty throng below, he felt himself doomedindeed.

  CHAPTER XI

  Standing at last on the summit of the great Ziggurat, Nelson foundhimself staring up at the fearsome golden image of the dread demonBeelzebub. The god stood some twelve feet in height and had a hideoushuman face, but, in place of hair and beard, countless golden tubeswrithed in all directions. From the end of one, the puzzled prisonerbeheld several tiny feathers of steam creeping forth, indicating thatthese hairs were a species of steam vent.

  When, with the other captives, he was made to halt near its base, hefurther discovered that the idol sat upon a throne of yellow marble,the sides of which were carved with Sanskrit characters, necessarilyquite meaningless to the doomed aviator.

  In a grim and silent rank before Beelzebub's feet, stood some six oreight priest-executioners bending their black-robed bodies against thestrong wind which swept that ghastly pinnacle.

  Just below the base of the image, Nelson noted several great, coppercoils, no doubt conducting steam from the interior of the Ziggurat.Between the knees of Beelzebub rested a huge, shallow bowl, the use ofwhich puzzled the American not a little, for he saw that the base ofthis ornate receptacle was also wrapped with a number of steam coils.Two great hands, ending in cruel-looking claws, were stretchedhorizontally above the demon's knees, seeming to plead for victims.

  * * * * *

  Suddenly a deep toned brazen gong sounded somewhere below; thetrumpeters blew an ear-piercing note; and, at a gesture from the highpriest, four of the brawny executioner-priests leaped forward, seizedone of the Atlantean victims, hurled him to the stone platform and, inan unbelievably short interval, strapped the shrieking wretch bywrists, elbows, knees and ankles to a long, brass rod. Slung like adead deer from a rail, they lifted the helpless Atlantean, and, whilefive hundred thousand voices roared in acclaim the priests fitted thepole ends into notches above the hands of the idol with the effectthat the idol actually seemed to be clutching its victim.

  Then, from all the pipes composing the hair and beard of Beelzebub,sprang forth hissing spouts of snowy steam which, whipped by therising wind, went whirling madly down the lee of the Ziggurat. At thesame time, from the half open mouth of the demon issued a fearful,screaming howl, a thousand times louder than the whistle of a speedinglocomotive. Deafening and barbaric, it was reechoed from a hundredtowers and battlements.

  A dreadful, exultant yell burst from the multitude below as thered-robed priest drew from beneath his garments a sickle-shaped knifethat glittered evilly in the light of the flaming suns. Stillchanting, he stooped and quickly made a deep incision over the heartof the victim. While a piercing, agonized shriek burst from the ashenlips of the doomed Atlantean, his bright life-blood began to splashinto the golden bowl below where, due to the presence of the steamcoils, it swiftly commenced to hiss and bubble. Very quickly the lastscarlet drops had fallen.

  Then while Nelson, sick and horrified, stood watching, the dead bodyon its pole was taken down, unstrapped, and hurled, limp andred-spattered, to the next lower platform where other priests waitedto dismember it for the ceremonial cannibalism soon to follow.

  * * * * *

  In rapid succession two more victims were slaughtered amid theblood-hungry cheers of the Jarmuthian populace. Now the great bowlhissed and bubbled with a generous supply of the dark red fluid, fromwhich rose clouds of evil-smelling steam that fanned the hideousfeatures above.

  From below suddenly arose an excited shout far mightier than any whichhad preceded it, when the executioners, sweating from their exertions,now turned and, spying Nelson, hurried forward. Coincidently, theAmerican's bound hands disappeared beneath the chiton. Squaring hisshoulders, he gripped the pistol, prepared to make a good end.

  "They'll get me, but before I die I'll send at least two or three ofthese devils to hell," he thought. "Come on--"

  But, for an inexplicable reason, the arch-priest beckoned back hissatellites, while roar upon roar of terrific excitement swelled fromthe swarming mob below, and a shout which at last becamedistinguishable bid fair to split the heavens. "Altara! Altara!Altara!"

  Slowly, the temporarily reprieved victim's muscles stiffened. Heunderstood. The next victim was to be the fair Altara, sister ofAltorius and Sacred Virgin of Atlans.

  "Altara! Altara!" A rising hurricane of impassioned human voicesthundered the name.

  Suddenly, the desire to live burned doubly strong in the American'sbreast. He must somehow prevent this inhuman catastrophe. But how?How?

  Stealing a quick glance over his shoulder, Nelson stifled a groan. Thesouthern horizon remained clear, and put an end to hope. No help! Hemust fight it out to the end alone.

  * * * * *

  A rank of exultant, black-bearded priests now appeared at the head ofthe stairway, then a quartet of olive skinned, semi-naked priestess
esjoyfully clashing brass cymbals.

  There came an interval--and Nelson's heart stood still as thereappeared the lovely head and shoulders of her whom he had first seenin the heart of the revolving crystal. Even more fiercely, mad revoltat fate gripped him.

  Through hot, strained eyes the American saw that the stately Altarawas beautiful beyond all possible comparison, and that she seemedutterly unafraid in the hour of her dreadful death. The Atlanteanmaiden's large, clear blue eyes were fixed with calm resignation onthe distant flame sun of Jilboa. On her curling golden hair had beenset a circlet of ceremonial yellow roses, while her white, slenderbody was thinly covered with a scanty robe of yellow silk.

  Slowly, and moving her small bare feet in a regal stride, Altaraclimbed the last few steps and stood straight and unafraid before thehideous demon god of Jarmuth.

  Thousands of frantic inner voices assailed the aviator'sconsciousness. "Save her! You must save her! She's too young, toobeautiful to die!"

  Like a vast maelstrom of sound, so swelled the lustful cry of the darkmultitude at the base of the Ziggurat, while the arch-priest chantedhis litany in a sort of triumphant exultation. Then, all at once, oneof the executioners roughly tripped the golden haired girl, sprawlingher helpless on the bloody stones; and, before Nelson could quiterealize it, the slender, silver hued form lay limp and helplessbetween Beelzebub's bloody claws.

  * * * * *

  Like a dynamo furiously gathering speed, so buzzed Nelson's brain. Hewas going to save her--if only for a brief interval! One man against anation. Through a raging mist of fury he saw the red-robed priestraise his lean arms; then the American's bound hands darted beneaththe blue chiton to reappear immediately. No one saw the pistol, forevery eye was rivetted upon the gleaming, sickle-knife of the redpriest. Like a voice from hell, that eery scream burst again fromBeelzebub's throat as his priest stepped near, the knife raised.

  Amid a deafening roar the sickle-knife flashed higher; but it neverfell, for the red priest suddenly reeled, clutched his chest and,staring wildly, staggered sidewise, while the assembled priests staredthunderstruck. The deafening roar of Beelzebub, the clamor of hornsand cymbals had drowned out the report. In superstitious awe theJarmuthians leaped back, panic-stricken, from the convulsivelywrithing body of the red priest, which rolled crazily down the stepsbefore the idol; but a high shout of terror rang out as he toppled offthe summit and, like a discarded puppet, plunged down the precipitousside of the cone-like tower.

  Again Nelson's pistol spat, and two of the executioners collapsed inkicking agony. Like an avenging fury, the American raged about thesummit, the pistol in his bound bands dealing death right and leftuntil panic seized the remaining priests, who, with one accord,abandoned their weapons to rush headlong down the dizzy, windingroadway. In a trice, none but Altara, Nelson, the two Atlanteans andthe fallen priests remained on the summit.

  * * * * *

  It was the work of a moment for the Atlanteans to cast loose Nelson'sbound wrists, and he theirs; time was precious, for, from below, afurious cohort of spearmen were charging up the stairs, their darkfeatures terrible in their wrath.

  "Only four more shots!" The sickening realization dashed into Nelson'sbrain. "That'll never stop them." Then in the midst of his despair hesaw an answer. Stepping back he fired twice full into the great steamcoil circling the base of the idol.

  _Spang! Spang!_ His bullets smacked through the copper coil topuncture neat, round holes. As he fervently hoped, jets of live steamrushed through these vents with terrible force and bathed the head ofthe stairs with a scalding, blinding vapor. Howling like mad beasts,the agonized Jarmuthian hoplites fell back, while overhead Beelzebubbellowed incessantly, shaking the sky with his hideous voice.

  "That's better." But Nelson knew his triumph to be brief. "_Where inhell is Alden?_" he raged as with shaking hands be released thebewildered girl from the death bar after the two Atlanteans had liftedit and its fair burden from the claws of Beelzebub.

  Picking up the swords and other weapons of the fallen priests the twoAtlanteans uttered their deep-toned war cry of _Halor van!_ andjoyously prepared to die fighting, as furious roar on roar of wratharose from the populace, infuriated at being cheated of their prey.But the black-armored temple guards dared not charge those twin steamjets barring their approach. Accordingly they tried other means.

  * * * * *

  Nelson's heart stopped as a small, dark object sailed up from belowand clattered on the platform. It was a grenade. With the speed ofthought, the American kicked it to the landing below, where itexploded, annihilating a detachment of Jarmuthians by drenching themwith the terrible fungus gas. Heart bounding with savage joy, Nelsonwatched the deadly green fog leap from the broken grenade and of itsown accord settle on the nearest soldiers. With the usual astonishingspeed there formed on the stricken soldiery that poisonous yellowmould, whose fungus-like shoots sprouted through nostrils and mouths.On the dense crowd below the bomb's effect was appalling, and no moregrenades were hurled....

  During the respite Nelson's anguished eyes once more swept the skies.He started. Was it true or was it a mirage? Far to the southward asmall, black speck materialized in the orange-hued heavens. Good oldAlden! Hope wavered in the American's breast. Could he and his twofellows beat off the infuriated Jarmuthians long enough? He doubtedit.

  A shower of spears sailed up, but because of the angle, theirtrajectory was too great, and like rays of death the lances flashedharmlessly overhead to plunge over the summit and wreak death amongthose on the other side.

  Nearer and nearer came the black speck while from the populace a lowshout of amazement arose. Coincidently Nelson's heart stopped; aghast,he saw that the steam was no longer hissing from the holes at theidol's feet! Evidently, the steam current had been shut off from belowto allow the raging priests to lead their followers in a desperatecharge up the stairs.

  Marshalling an Atlantean to either side, Nelson sprang to the head ofthe stair and fired full in the face of gorgeously robed priests whostaggered back screaming. But the others wavered only an instant.

  "_Halor van!_" Both Atlanteans hurled spears retrieved from theabandoned weapons--and each struck down his man.

  * * * * *

  The American's eye flickered up. Yes, there came a strange, butwelcome sight: a great creature with enormous, leathery pinions wascircling down towards the tower top! A clashing of weapons broughtNelson's eyes earthwards. He joined in a furious melee at the stairtop, like the Atlanteans, using a captured bronze sword. There came adeep groan as the right-hand Atlantean collapsed with a bloodiedbronze spear point standing far out from between his naked shoulderblades.

  A swooping shadow fell across the slowly advancing attackers.Beholding that awesome creature the Jarmuthians cowered, hesitated;then in headlong panic they darted below, uttering howls of fear andpursued by the surviving Atlantean, who, gone berserk, must haveshortly paid for his folly.

  The pteranodon was now quite recognizable, and seated on a doublesaddle was Alden, skillfully guiding the ungainly monster by means ofa curious bridle, by shifting his weight and by pressing certain nervecenters between the great reptile's leathery shoulders.

  Down, down circled Alden until the great wings skimmed just aboveBeelzebub's ugly golden head.

  Her courage strained beyond endurance, Altara screamed shrilly in fearas Alden guided the huge reptile to the summit and forced it to light.

  "Quick!" shouted Alden. "They're coming back up!"

  "All right!" Catching up the fainting girl, Nelson hurdled two orthree fallen bodies, and, while Alden showered fungus bombs upon thereturning Jarmuthians, he laid his precious burden across the saddleand secured her with straps specially designed for the purpose.

  "All right, Dick," he snapped. "Get going!"

  "But you?" Alden's brown face was terribly intent.

  "I'm not going! This creat
ure could never carry the three of us. Itcan't, I tell you! Hurry, those devils are coming!"

  Alden folded his arms. "If you don't go, I don't."

  "All right then," snarled Nelson, vaulting into the saddle aftercasting loose the inert, yellow-robed girl. "Be a damned fool! We'llall die now."

  * * * * *

  It was a near thing, for the pteranodon, scenting the fresh blood, wasvery loath to obey its master, and scuffed awkwardly around the towertop two or three times, while Nelson, clutching Altara to him,expended his last shot in driving back the enemy.

  At last, the pteranodon spread its huge brown pinions and took off.Then Nelson gasped in alarm, for, unaccustomed to the heavy weight itnow bore, the pteranodon scaled earthwards with the speed of a meteor,wildly flapping its bat-like-wings. Down! Down! Nelson had animpression of people scattering like frightened ants.

  Alden cursed, tugged furiously on the bridle, and set his weight backin the saddle, but to no avail. Down! Ever down! The pteranodon nowstruggled among the tall buildings.

  A sickening sense of defeat gripped Nelson as a long jet of steam shotout from a huge brass retortii mounted on the roof of an arsenal. Thescalding fingers of steam just missed its target, but fortunatelyserved to sting the descending pteranodon. With a convulsive shudderand a whistling scream, the hideous reptile commenced to flap itsgigantic wings faster, and, slowly but surely, began to rise over theyellow temples and towers of the barbarous city of Jezreel.

  * * * * *

  What followed is now a matter of Atlantean history. On its pages isset forth in full detail how the giant pteranodon barely crossed theboiling river to sink exhausted in the outskirts of Tricca.

  There, also, is described the series of tremendous battles in whichthe Atlanteans, led by Altorius and inspired by the return of theirSacred Virgin, employed the terrible fungus gas to overwhelm theJarmuthian invaders, driving them back with great slaughter to thesteaming plains of their own land.

  At even greater length is described the great triumph Altoriusaccorded the victorious aviators on the occasion of Victor Nelson'smarriage to Altara.

  "Doth it not seem strange," she whispered as they stood looking outover the great, sleeping city of Heliopolis, "that thou of the NewWorld and I of the Lost World, should stand man and wife?"

  The American's tanned face softened. "My darling," he whispered,"there are lots of strange things in the new Atlantis--but this isn'tone of them."

  _(The End.)_

 

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