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Title: The alien intelligence

Author: Jack Williamson

Illustrator: Frank R. Paul

Release date: May 29, 2024 [eBook #73724]

Language: English

Original publication: New York, NY: Stellar Publishing Corporation

Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ALIEN INTELLIGENCE ***





                        The Alien Intelligence

                          By Jack Williamson

                    [Illustration: JACK WILLIAMSON]

    _Not since the famous "Moon Pool" by A. Merritt, have we read such
    a remarkable story as the present one, by the well-known author._

    _We are quite certain that this story will be one of the
    outstanding science fiction achievements of the year. It will be
    discussed and re-discussed time and again. In a way it is a little
    classic and stands in a place by itself._

    _The author has a knack, not only to arouse your curiosity, but
    to keep it at a high pitch throughout the entire story, but best
    of all, his science while fantastic is always within the realms
    of possibility and there is no reason why the astounding things
    which he paints so vividly, could not be true, either now or in the
    future._

    _Do not, by any means, fail to read this outstanding story._

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
               Science Wonder Stories July, August 1929.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]




[Illustration: I fired on the instant and had the luck to shatter the
vessel, splashing the liquid over his person. His purple robe was eaten
away; his flesh was dyed a deep purple and partially consumed.]




                               CHAPTER I

                       The Mountain of the Moon


Before me, not half a mile away, rose the nearest ramparts of the
Mountain of the Moon. It was after noon, and the red sun blazed down
on the bare, undulating sandy waste with fearful intensity. The air
was still and intolerably hot. Heat waves danced ceaselessly over the
uneven sand. I felt the utter loneliness, the wild mystery, and the
overwhelming power of the desert. The black cliffs rose cold and solid
in the east--a barrier of dark menace. Pillars of black basalt, of dark
hornblende, and of black obsidian rose in a precipitous wall of sharp
and jagged peaks that curved back to meet the horizon. Needle-like
spires rose a thousand feet, and nowhere was the escarpment less than
half that high. It was with mingled awe and incipient fear that I first
looked upon the Mountain of the Moon.

It was a year since I had left medical college in America to begin
practise in Perth, Australia. There I had an uncle who was my sole
surviving relative. My companion on the voyage had been Dr. Horace
Austen, the well-known radiologist, archeologist, and explorer. He had
been my dearest friend. That he was thirty years my senior, had never
interfered with our comradeship. It was he who had paid most of my
expenses in school. He had left me at Perth, and went on to investigate
some curious ruined columns that a traveler had reported in the western
part of the Great Victoria Desert. There Austen had simply vanished. He
had left Kanowna, and the desert had swallowed him up. But it was his
way, when working on a problem, to go into utter seclusion for months
at a time.

My uncle was an ardent radio enthusiast, and it was over one of his
experimental short wave sets that we picked up the remarkable message
from my lost friend that led me to abandon my practise, and, heeding
the call of adventure that has always been strong in those of my blood,
to seek the half mythical Mountain of the Moon, in the heart of the
unexplored region of the Great Victoria Desert of Western Australia.

The message was tantalizingly brief and hard to interpret. We picked it
up five times, over a period of two weeks, always just after sunset.
Evidently it was sent by one who had not recently practised his
knowledge of code, and it seemed that the sender was always in a great
hurry, or under a considerable nervous tension, for minor errors and
omissions were frequent. The words were invariably the same. I copy
them from an old notebook.

"To Winfield Fowler, physician, Perth, Australia: I, Horace Austen,
am lost in an unknown new world, where alien terrors reign, that lies
in a crater in the Mountain of the Moon. I implore you to come to my
aid, for the sake of mankind. Bring arms, and my equipment--the Rontgen
tubes and coils, and the spectrometer. Ascend ladder at west pinnacle.
Find my friend Melvar, maiden of the crystal city, whom I left beyond
the Silver Lake. Come, for the sake of civilization, and may whoever
hears this forward it with all dispatch."

My uncle was inclined to suspect a hoax. But after the message had
come over twice I received telegrams from several other radio amateurs
who had heard it, and were forwarding it to me. We took the direction
of the third call and had amateurs in Adelaide do the same. The lines
intersected in the Great Victoria Desert, at a point very near that at
which Wellington located the Mountain of the Moon, when he sighted it
and named it in 1887.

Knowing Austen, as I did, to be intensely human as a man, but grave and
serious as a scientist, it was impossible for me to take the message as
a practical joke, as my uncle, deriding the possibility of my friend's
being imprisoned in "an unknown new world," insisted it was. It was
equally impossible for one of my impetuous and adventurous disposition
to devote himself to any prosaic business when so attractive a mystery
was beckoning him away. Then I would never, in any case, have hesitated
to go to Austen's aid, if I knew him to be in need.

I got together the apparatus he had mentioned--it was some equipment he
happened to have left with me as he went on--as well as my emergency
medicine kit, a heavy rifle, two .45 Colt automatics, and a good supply
of ammunition; and waited for more explicit signals. But the calls had
never come regularly, and after the fifth no more were heard. Having
waited another irksome week, I bade my uncle farewell and got on the
train. I left the railway at Kanowna, and bought three ponies. I rode
one and packed provisions, equipment, and water bottles on the other
two. Nothing need be said of the perils of the journey. Three weeks
later I came in sight of the mountain.

Wellington had christened it as he did because of an apparent
similarity to the strange cliff-rimmed craters of the moon, and the
appellation was an apt one. The crags rose almost perpendicularly
from the sand to the jagged rim. To climb them was clearly out of
the question. The rock was polished slick by wind-blown sands for
many feet, but rough and sharp above. To my left, at the extreme west
point of the great curve, was a dark needle spire that towered three
hundred feet above its fellows. I knew that it must be Austen's "west
pinnacle." What sort of ladder I was to ascend, I had little idea.

As the sun sank back of the rolling sea of sand, dark purple shadows
rose about the barrier, and I was struck with deep forebodings of the
evil mystery that lay beyond it. The gold of the desert changed to
silver gray, and the gray faded swiftly, while the deep purple mantle
swept up the peaks, displacing even the deep red crowns that lay like
splashes of blood upon the summits. Still I felt, or fancied, a strange
spirit of terror that lurked behind the mountain, even in the night.

Quickly I made camp. Just two of the ponies were left, and they were
near death (I have passed over the hardships of my trip). I hobbled
them on a little patch of grass and brush that grew where water had run
from the cliff; pitched my little tent, and found brush to start a tiny
fire. I ate supper, with but a scanty cup of water; then, oppressed
by the vast mysterious peaks that loomed portentously in the east,
shutting out the starlight, I went in the tent and sought my blanket.
Then came the first of those terrible and inexplicable occurrences that
led up to the great adventure.




                              CHAPTER II

                     The Abyss of the Terror-light


First I heard a faint whispering sound, or rather a hiss, infinitely
far away, and up, I thought, over the cliffs. Then the cloth of the
tent was lighted by a faint red glow thrown on it from above. I
shivered and the strange spell of the mountain and the desert fell
heavier upon me. I wanted to go out and investigate; but unfamiliar
terror held me powerless. I gripped my automatic and waited tensely.
The scarlet radiance shone ever brighter through the cloth. The sound
turned to a hissing, shrieking scream. It was deafening, and it plunged
straight down. It seemed to pause, to hover overhead. The red glare was
almost blinding. Abruptly the tent was blown down by a sudden tempest
of wind. For perhaps a minute the terror hung about me. I lay there in
a strange paralysis of fear, while a hurricane of wind tore at the
canvas upon me. I heard upon the tempest, above that awful whistling, a
wild mad laugh that rang against the cliff, weirdly appalling. It was
utterly inhuman, not even the laugh of a madman. Just once it rang out,
and afterwards I imagined it had been my fancy.

Then the light and the sound swept up and away. With belated courage
I tore my way from under the cloth. The stars were like jewels in the
westward sky, where the zodiacal light was still visible. The ominous
blackness of the mountain blotted out the eastern stars; and the peaks
were lighted by a vague and flickering radiance of scarlet, like the
reflection of unpleasant fires beyond. Strange pulsing, exploring
fingers of red seemed to thrust themselves up from behind the cliff.
Somehow they gave me the feeling that an incredibly great, incredibly
evil personality lurked beyond. The crimson light shone weirdly on the
wild summits of the mountain, as if they were smeared with blood.

I threw more brush on the fire, and crouched over it, feeling
uncomfortably alone and terrified. When the flames had flared up I
looked about for the ponies, seeking companionship even in them.
They were gone! At first I thought they had broken their hobbles and
run off, but I could neither see nor hear them, and they had been in
no condition to run far. I walked about a little, to look for them,
and then went back to the fire. I sat there and watched the eerie,
unwholesome glare that shone over the mountain. No longer did I doubt
the existence of Austen's "world where alien terrors reign." I knew,
even as I had felt when I first saw the mountain, that strange life and
power lurked beyond it.

       *       *       *       *       *

                           The Ladder Found

Presently I stretched the tent again, and lay down, but I did not sleep.

At dawn I got up and went to look for the ponies. I climbed one of the
low dunes and gazed over the gray infinity of sand, but not a sign of
them rewarded my look. I tried to trail them. I found where they had
been hobbled, and followed the tracks of each to a place where the
hoofs had cut deep in the sandy turf. Beyond there was no trace. Then
I was certain of what I had already known, that the Thing had carried
them away.

Then I found something stranger still--the prints of bare human feet,
half erased by the wind that had blown while the terror had hung there.
That unearthly laugh, and the footprints! Was there a land of madmen
behind the mountain? And what was the thing that had come and gone in
the night? Those were questions I could not answer, but daylight dulled
my wondering fear.

The sun would not rise on my side of the mountain until nearly noon,
and the cold dark shadow of the cliff was upon me when the desert all
about was a shimmering white in the heat of the sun. Austen's call had
mentioned a ladder. I set out to find it. Just north of the peak I came
upon it, running straight up like a silver ribbon to the top of the
cliff. It was not the clumsy affair of ropes that I expected. In fact,
I at once abandoned any idea that Austen had made it at all. It was of
an odd-looking white metal, and it seemed very old, although it was
corroded but little. The rungs were short white bars, riveted to long
straps which were fastened on the rock by spikes of the same silvery
metal. I have said that the mountain rises straight from the sand. And
the ladder goes on into the ground. That suggests that the sand has
piled in on the base of the mountain since the ladder was put there. At
any rate, I am sure that it is incredibly old.

I went back to camp; packed together my guns, a little food, and
Austen's equipment; and started up the ladder. Although it was no more
than six hundred feet to the top, heavily laden as I was, I got very
tired before I reached it. I stopped several times to rest. Once,
looking down on the illimitable sea of rolling sand, with the tiny tent
and the sharp shadow of the mountain the only definite features, I had
a terrible attack of vertigo, and my fears of the night returned, until
I almost wished I had never started up the ladder. But I knew that if
I were suddenly back in Perth again I would be more eager than ever to
set out upon the adventure.

At last I reached the top and crawled up in the mouth of a narrow
canyon, with the black stone walls rising straight to the peaks on
either side. Down the crevice was a smooth curving pathway, very much
worn, it seemed, more by time than human feet. It was not yet noon. I
waited a few minutes to rest; then walked up the path with a very keen
curiosity as to where it led. It grew so deep that the sky overhead
was but a dark blue ribbon in which I saw Venus gleaming whitely. It
widened. I walked out on a broad stone platform. And below me lay--the
abyss.

I stood on the brink of a great chasm whose bottom must have been
miles, even, below sea level. The farther walls of the circular
pit--they must have been forty miles away--were still black in the
shadow of the morning. Clouds of red and purple mist hung in the
infinities of space the chasm contained, and completely hid the farther
half of the floor. Beneath me, so far away that it was as if I looked
on another world, was a deep red shelf, a scarlet plain weird as the
deserts of Mars. To what it owed its color I could not tell. In the
midst of the red, rose a mountain whose summit was a strange crown of
scintillating fire. It looked as though it were capped, not with snow,
but with an immense heap of precious jewels, set on fire with the glory
of the sun, and blazing with a splendrous shifting flame of prismatic
light. And the crimson upland sloped down--to "the Silver Lake." It was
a lake shaped like a crescent moon, the horns reaching to the mountains
on the north and the south. In the hollow of the crescent beyond, low
hills rose, impenetrable banks of purple mist lying back of them to
the dark wall in the distance. The lake gleamed like quicksilver and
light waves ran upon it, reflecting the sunlight in cold blue fire. It
seemed that faint purple vapors were floating up from the surface. Set
like a picture in the dark red landscape, with the black cliffs about,
the argent lake was very white, and very bright.




                              CHAPTER III

                        Down the Silver Ladder


For a long, long time I gazed into the abyss, lost in the wonder and
the mystery of it. Meanwhile the sun climbed over and lit the farther
rim, which still was black or dully red, because of the dark colors
of the volcanic rocks of which it is composed. The scene was so vast,
so strange, so wildly beautiful and unearthly, that it seemed almost
a dream, instead of an ominous reality. It was hard to realize that
somewhere upon the red plain, or along the shores of the Silver Lake,
or perhaps beneath the banks of mist beyond, Austen was--or had
been--alone, and in distress. I wondered, too, from what part of this
strange world had come the thing of the whistling sound and the red
light, which had taken the ponies.

It was well after noon before I ate a little lunch and took thought of
the matter of descent. I saw that a second ladder led down in a fine
line of silver until it disappeared above the crimson upland, miles
below. I climbed over the brink and started down. Descending was easier
than climbing had been, but I had infinitely farther to go. The soles
of my shoes were cut through, and my hands became red and blistered on
the rungs. Sometimes, when I was too tired to go on, I slung myself to
the ladder with a piece of rope from my pack, while I rested.

Steadily the black walls rose higher about me. The red plateau beneath,
the mountain with its crown of flaming gems, and the strange white lake
beyond, came nearer and nearer.

I was still half a mile above the scarlet plain when the shadow of the
western wall was flung fast over the valley floor, and the light purple
mists beyond the argent lake deepened their hue to a dark and ominous
purple-red.

But the Silver Lake did not darken. It seemed luminous. It gleamed with
a bright, metallic silvery luster, even when the shadow had fallen upon
it. Whenever I rested, I searched keenly the whole visible floor of the
abyss, but nowhere was any life or motion to be seen.

With a growing apprehension, I realized that I would not have time
to reach the ground before dark. I had no desire to be sticking like
a fly to the face of the cliff when the Thing that had made the red
light was moving about. Disregarding my fatigue and pain, I clambered
down as fast as I could force my wearied limbs to move. The process of
motion had become almost automatic. Hands and feet moved regularly,
rhythmically, without orders from the brain. But sometimes they fumbled
or slipped. Then I had to grasp, frenzied, at the rungs to save my life.

Night fell like a black curtain rolled quickly over the top of the
pit, but the half-moon of the Silver Lake still shone with its white
metallic light. And strange, moving shapes of red appeared in the mist
in the hollow of the crescent. The light that fell upon the rock was
faint, but still enough to help, and still I hurried--forcing hands and
feet to follow down and find the rungs. And fearfully I looked over my
shoulder at the bank of mist.

Suddenly a long pale finger of red--a delicate rosy ray--shot high
out of it. And up the vague pathway it sped, a long slender pencil of
crimson light--a narrow, sharp-tipped scarlet shape--high into the
night, and over and around in a long arching curve. Down it plunged,
and back into the mist. Presently I heard its sound--that strange
whistling sigh that rolled majestically and rose and fell, vast as the
roar of an erupting volcano. Other things sprang out of the purple
bank, slender searching needles of brilliant scarlet, sweeping over the
valley and high into the starlit sky above.

Following paths that were smooth and arched, with incredible speed,
they swept about like a swarm of strange insects, always with amazing
ease, and always shooting back into the cloud, leaving faint purple
tracks behind them. And the great rushing sounds rose and fell. Those
lights were incredible entities, intelligent--and evil.

They flew, more often than anywhere else, over the crown of lights upon
the hill--the gems still shone with a faint beautiful glow of mingled
colors. Whenever one swept near the mountain, a pale blue ray shot
toward it from the cap of jewels. And the red things fled from the ray.
More and more the flying things of crimson were drawn to the mountain
top, wheeling swiftly and ceaselessly, ever evading the feeble beams
of blue. Their persistence was inhuman--and terrible. They were like
insects wheeling about a light.

All the while I climbed down as fast as I could, driving my worn-out
limbs beyond the limit of endurance, while I prayed that the things
might not observe me. Then one passed within a half mile, with a
deep awful whistling roar, flinging ahead its dusky red pathway, and
hurtling along with a velocity that is inconceivable. I saw that it was
a great red body, a cylinder with tapering ends, with a bright green
light shining on the forward part. It did not pause, but swept on along
its comet-like path, and down behind the Silver Lake. Behind it was
left a vague purple phosphorescent track, like the path of a meteor,
that lasted several minutes.

After it was gone, I hurried on for a few minutes, breathing easier.
Then another went by, so close that a hot wind laden with the purple
mist of its track blew against my face.

I was gripped with deathly, unutterable terror. I let myself down in
the haste of desperation. Then the third one came. As it approached
it paused in its path, and drifted slowly and deliberately toward me.
The very cliff trembled with the roaring blast of its sound. The green
light in the forward end stared at me like a terrible, evil eye.

Exactly how it happened I never knew. I suppose my foot slipped, or
my bleeding hands failed to grasp a rung. I have a vague recollection
of the nightmare sensation of falling headlong, of the air whistling
briefly about my ears, of the dark earth looming up below. I think I
fell on my back, and that my head struck a rock.

       *       *       *       *       *

                           In the Red Scrub

The next I knew it was day, and the sun was shining in my eyes. I
struggled awkwardly and painfully to my feet. My whole body was bruised
and sore, and the back of my head was caked with dried blood. My
exhausted muscles had stiffened during the night, and to stand upon
my cut and blistered feet was torturing. But I had something to be
thankful for--that I had been within a few feet of the ground when I
fell; and that the red thing had departed and left me lying there,
perhaps thinking me dead.

I leaned against the base of the metal ladder and looked about, I had
fallen into a thicket of low red bushes. All about grew low thick
brush, covering the slightly rolling plain. The plants were scarcely
knee-high, bearing narrow, feathered leaves of red. The delicate,
fern-like sprays of crimson rippled in the breeze like waves on a sea
of blood. The leaves had a peculiar bright and greasy appearance and
a strange pungent odor. The shrubs bore innumerable tiny snow-white
flowers that gleamed like stars against the deep red background.

I think that the red vegetation had evolved from a species of _cycad_.
Undoubtedly the greater crater had been isolated from the outer world
when the great tree-ferns were reigning throughout the earth. And,
as I was presently to find, the order of evolution in the deep warm
pit had been vastly different from that which had produced man as its
highest form of life. Presently I was to meet far stranger and more
amazing things than the red bush. I am inclined to believe that the
extraordinary color may have been due to the quality of the atmosphere,
perhaps to the high pressure, or to the purple vapors that ever rose
from the region beyond the Silver Lake.

Nowhere did I see any living thing, nor did I hear any sound of life.
In fact one of the strange things of the place was the complete absence
of the lower forms of life, and even of the smaller insects. The
silence hung oppressively. It grew intolerably monotonous--maddening.

Far away to the right and to the left the walls of the pit rose
straight and black to the azure infinity that arched the top. To the
left of me, five or six miles away, towered the gem-crowned hill, its
summit a blaze of ever-changing polychromatic flame. Beyond it, all
along the east, the red plateau fell away to the Silver Lake, which lay
like a curved scimitar of polished steel, with the faint bank of purple
mist shrouding the low red hills that rose inside the curve beyond. The
sun was just above the eastern peaks, shining purple through the mist.

After a time I limped slowly down the nearest of the little valleys.
As I went my roving eye caught the bright glitter of brass on the
ground at my feet. Searching in the red shrubs, I picked up three
fired cartridges for a .45 calibre automatic. I held them in my hand
and gazed over the weird scene before me, lost in wonder. They were
concrete proof that Austen had passed this way, had here fought off
some danger. He must yet be somewhere in this strange crater. But where
was I to find "_Melvar, maiden of the crystal city_," and what was she
to do for me?

Presently I went on. I wanted water to bathe my cuts and bruises. I was
very thirsty as well as hungry. My pack was an irksome burden, but I
did not discard it, and I carried the heavy rifle ready in my hand. I
was still feeling very weak. After a painful half mile I came to a tiny
pool in a thicket of the red scrub. I lay down and drank the cool clear
water until I was half sick. I threw away the remnants of my shoes and
bathed my feet.

       *       *       *       *       *

                            A Curious Sight

Suddenly my attention was arrested by a crystal clashing sound. There
was a marching rhythm in it, and the clatter of weapons. I crouched
down the shrubbery and peered fearfully about. I saw a line of men,
queerly equipped soldiers, marching in single file over the nearest
knoll. They seemed to be wearing a closely fitting chain mail of
silvery metal, and they had helmets, breastplates and shields that
threw off the sunlight in scintillant flashes of red, as if made of
rubies. And their long swords flashed like diamonds. Their crystal
armor tinkled as they came, in time to their marching feet.

One, whom I took to be the leader, boomed out an order in a hearty,
mellow voice. They passed straight by, within fifty yards of me. I
saw that they were tall men, of magnificent physique, white-skinned,
with blond hair and blue eyes. On they went, in the direction of the
fire-topped mountain, until they passed out of sight in a slight
declivity, and the music died away.

It is needless to say that I was excited as by nothing that I had seen
before. A race of fair-haired men in an Australian valley. What a
sensational discovery! I supposed that they had built the metal ladder
and come down it into the valley, but from whence had they come? Or was
the Mountain of the Moon itself the cradle of humanity, the Garden of
Eden?

Then the crystal weapons of the soldiery suggested that they used
some transparent crystalline substance in lieu of metal, and that the
iridescent crown upon the mountain might be the city of the race. Was
it Austen's "crystal city?" That would suggest a high civilization,
but I saw no sign of the mechanical devices that are the outstanding
features of our own civilized achievement. Certainly the soldiers had
carried no modern weapons.

Then I thought of the footprints and the eerie laugh. I wondered what
contact Austen had had with these people. Had they been friends or
foes? I wondered if it had been the men of the crystal city who had
paid me a visit outside the cliffs. If so, the red torpedo-shapes of
the night must be aircraft, and they must have advanced the art of
aerial navigation to a very high degree.

I determined, first of all, to do some spying, and find out as much
as possible about the strange race before I revealed my presence. I
was not in a very good trim for battle, and I had taken much pains for
concealment when the men passed. But I had little doubt that my guns
were so far superior to their crystal swords that I could fight them at
any odds if they proved unfriendly.

So presently I bound my feet with bandages from my medicine kit,
attended as best I could to the wound on the back of my head, and
walked slowly on the direction of the mountain, keeping in the cover
of the valleys as much as possible. Although I could limp painfully
along, the red vegetation offered me no very serious impediment to my
progress. The low bushes crushed easily underfoot, burdening the air
with their unfamiliar, pungent odor. The country was rolling, the low
hills and level valleys all covered crimson with the scrub, gigantic
boulders scattered here and there. The Silver Lake shimmered in the
distance--a bright, white, metallic sheet.

The gem-capped mountain rose before me until I saw that the gaunt
black sides rose a full thousand feet to the crown of blazing crystal.
And as I drew nearer, I saw that indeed the gems were buildings, of a
massive, fantastic architecture. A city of crystal! Prismatic fires of
emerald-green, and ruby-red, and sapphire-blue, poured out in a mingled
flood of iridescence from its slender spires and great towers, its
central ruby dome and the circling battlements of a hundred flashing
hues.




                              CHAPTER IV

                           Melvar of Astran


Just before noon I staggered into a little dell that was covered
with unusually profuse growths of the crimson plants. Along a little
trickling stream of water they were waist high, bearing abundantly the
star-shaped flowers, and small golden-brown fruits. Suddenly there
was a rustling in the thicket and the head and shoulders of a young
woman rose abruptly out of the red brush. In her hand she held a woven
basket, half full of the fruits. In my alarm I had thrown up the rifle.
But soon lowered it and grinned in confusion when I realized that it
was a girl, and by far the most beautiful one I had ever seen. I have
always been awkward in the presence of a beautiful woman, and for a few
minutes I did nothing but stand and stare at her, while her quizzical
dark, blue eyes inscrutably returned my look.

She was clad in a slight garment, green in color, that seemed to be
woven of a fine-spun metal. Her hair was long and golden, fastened
behind her shapely head with a circlet--a thin band cut evidently from
a single monster ruby. Her features were fine and delicate, and she
had a surpassing grace of figure. That her slender arms were stained
to the elbows with the red juice of the plants--she had been picking
the golden fruits--did not detract from her beauty. I was struck--and
I will admit it, conquered--by her face. For a little time she stood
very erect, looking at me with an odd expression, and then she spoke,
enunciating the words very carefully, in a rich golden voice.

The language was English!

She said, "Are you--an American?"

"At your service completely," I told her, "Winfield Fowler, of White
Deer, Texas, and New York City, not to mention other points. But I own
to some surprise at finding a knowledge of the idiom in a denizen of so
remote a locality."

"I can understand," she smiled. "But I think you could talk--more
simply. So you are Winfield, who came with Austen across the
great--ocean from America?"

"You guessed it," I said, trying to keep my growing excitement in hand,
while I marveled at her beauty. "Is mind reading common in these parts?"

"Doctor Austen--the American--told me about you, his friend. And he
gave me two books. Tennyson's poems, and--'The Pathfinder.'"

"So you have seen Austen?" I cried in real astonishment. "Are you
Melvar? Are you the 'maiden of the crystal city?'"

"I am Melvar," she told me. "And Austen stopped in Astran one
_sutar_--that is thirty-six days."

"Where is he now?" I eagerly demanded.

"He was a strange man," the golden voice replied. "He did not fear
the Krimlu, as do the men of Astran. He walked off toward the pass in
the north that leads around--around the Silver Lake, he called it. He
had been watching the Krimlu as they came at night, and doing strange
things with some stuff he took from--the Silver Lake. While he was
here, the hunters brought in one of the--" again she hesitated, at a
loss for a word. "--The Purple Ones," she concluded. "He took that to
examine it."

"What are the Krimlu?" I exclaimed. "What--or who--are the Purple Ones?
What is the Silver Lake?"

"You are a man of many questions," she laughed. For a moment she
hesitated, with her blue eyes resting on my face.

"The Krimlu, so say the old men of Astran, are the spirits of the dead
who come back from the land beyond the Silver Lake to watch the living,
and to carry off the evil for their food. So the priests taught us,
and so I believed until Austen came and told me of the world that is
beyond. He told the Elders of the outer world, but they put upon him
the curse of the sun, and drove him away. And indeed it is well that he
was ready to go so willingly beyond the Silver Lake, for Jorak would
have offered him to the Purple Sun had he been in the city another
night."

Suddenly she must have become conscious of the intensity of my
unthinking gaze, for she abruptly dropped her eyes, and flushed a
little.

"Go on," I urged her. "What about the Purple Ones and the Silver Lake?
Your account is certainly entertaining, if somewhat more mystifying
than illuminating. At this rate you will have me a raving maniac in an
hour, but the process is not unpleasant. Proceed."

       *       *       *       *       *

                           Fowler Grows Bold

She looked up at me, smiled, looked off to the side, then let her eyes
return to mine with curious speculation in them. "What is the Silver
Lake," she went on, "you know as well as I, though Austen tried to find
its secret. The touch of its water is death--a death that is terrible.
And the Purple Ones--you will see them soon enough! They are strange
beings who come, no one knows whence, into the land of Astran. The
priests tell us that they are 'The Avengers of the Purple Sun.'--but
did you come down the ladder as Austen did?"

"Most of the way in the same manner," I told her. "I finished the
descent rather faster than he did, I imagine."

"Is there really," she asked, "a broad world beyond, with fields and
forests that are green, and seas that are of clear blue water, and
a sun that is not purple, but white? Such Austen told me, but the
elders say that the ladder is the path to the Purple Sun, and beyond
is nothing. Is it true that there is a great nation of the men of your
race, a nation of men who know the art of fire that Austen showed us,
and greater arts, who can travel in ships over water and through the
air like the Krimlu?"

"Yes," I said, "the world is that, and more, but, in all of it, I have
never seen a girl so beautiful as you."

It is not my habit to make such speeches to ladies, but I was feeling
a bit light-headed on that morning, as a reaction from my terrible
adventure, and I was rather intoxicated by her charm.

She smiled, evidently not displeased, and looked away again, apparently
composing her expression with difficulty. There was a suspicious
twinkle in her dark blue eyes.

"Tell me why you have come into this land," she asked abruptly.

"Austen sent for me to come to his aid." I replied.

"You and Austen are not like the men of Astran," she mused. "Not one of
them ever went out to face the Krimlu or even the Purple Ones, of his
own free will. You must be brave."

"Rather, ignorant," I said. "Since I have seen the 'Krimlu,' as you
call the flying lights, I am about ready to give up my courage of any
kind."

Then, because my exhausted condition had robbed me of my ordinary sense
of responsibility, I did such a thing as I had never dared before. The
girl was standing close before me, matchlessly beautiful, infinitely
desirable. Her eyes were bright, and the sunlight glistened in her
golden hair. And--well, I admit that I did not try very hard to resist
the temptation to kiss her. I felt her arm at my back, a sudden quick
thrust of her lithe body. The next I knew I was lying on my back, and
she was bending over me, with tears in her eyes.

"Oh," she cried. "I didn't know. Your head! It is bleeding. And your
hands and feet! I didn't notice!"

So I was compelled to lie there while the beautiful stranger very
tenderly dressed and bandaged the cut on my head. In truth, I doubt
that I would have been able to get up immediately. The touch of her
cool fingers was very light and deft. Once her golden hair brushed
against my cheek. Her nearness was very pleasant. I knew that I loved
her completely, though I had never taken much stock in love at first
sight.

Presently she had finished. Then she said, "When Austen gave me the
books he left a letter for any man of the outside who might happen to
come to Astran. You must come with me to the city, to get it, and to
rest until you can walk without limping so painfully. Then, if you
will, you can go on around the northern pass. Perhaps you can find
Austen. But the Krimlu are mighty. No man of Astran has ever dared
oppose them. No man who has ever gone into that accursed region has
ever been seen again."




                               CHAPTER V

                       Astran, the Crystal City


The sun dropped beneath the rim, and the purple dusk began to thicken
and to creep over the valley floor. I took up my precious equipment,
and Melvar and I walked off through the red brush in the direction
of the mountain. The vast strange buildings of the city of gems were
still glowing with soft color, and the cold, bright surface of the
Silver Lake flashed often into sight beyond the rolling eminences.
Presently we came to a well-worn path through the crimson scrub, but I
saw nothing to indicate that anyone had thought of paving or improving
it. But the Astranians did not seem to have much energy for any kind of
public work. Their material civilization appeared to be on a rather low
scale. In fact they supplied their wants in the way of food entirely
with the abundant fruit of the red bushes. As I had guessed from the
girl's remarks, they did not even have the use of fire. Indeed the
great physical and mental development of the race and the splendid city
in which it lived was strangely contrasted with their absolute lack of
scientific knowledge.

Our pace was hastened by thoughts of the terrors that night would
bring, and perhaps because of them, we walked nearer one another, and
presently we were hurrying along, hand in hand. About us the purple
night deepened and, beyond the argent brilliance of the Silver Sea, the
strange evil of the night gathered itself for the attack.

At last we came to the narrow path that wound up the side of the
mountain to the splendid palaces that crowned it. We hurried; came
to a great arched gate in the emerald wall, and entered. The huge,
incredibly magnificent buildings were scattered irregularly about the
summit, with broad spaces between them. Here and there were paved
courts of the silvery metal, which must have been an aluminum bronze,
but the open ground was for the most part grown up in rank thickets of
the red brush. The great building showed the wear and breakage of ages.
Here and there were great heaps of gleaming crystal, where wonderful
edifices had fallen, with the brush grown up around them. Incredible
as it may seem, I think the old civilization of Astran had possessed a
science that was able to synthetize diamonds and other precious stones,
in quantities sufficient even for use as building stone. Later I had an
opportunity to examine bits of the fallen masonry.

Towering above all, on the very peak of the mountain, was a great ruby
dome, vast as the dome of St. Peter's, and mounted upon the center of
the top was a huge machine that resembled nothing so much as a great
naval gun, though it was made of crystal and white metal. A little
group of men were gathered about it, and as I watched they swung the
great tube about, and a narrow ray of pale blue light poured out of
it. And down on the plain below, where the practise beam had struck, a
great boulder flashed into sudden incandescence. In their exploration
of the ultraviolet spectrum, our own scientists have found rays that
are strangely destructive to life, and considerable progress has been
made in the development of a destructive beam of wireless energy. But
later I was to meet a far more terrible ray weapon than that slender
blue beam.

"With that," said Melvar, "our people fight off the Krimlu at night.
But the Krimlu are so many that sometimes they are able to land and
take our people. If only we had more of the beams! But there is no man
in all Astran who knows how the light is made, or anything save that
the blue light shines out to destroy when rock of a certain kind is put
into the tube. Austen wished to examine it, and spoke of something he
called 'radium ore' but the priests forbade. Indeed, his curiosity is
one of the reasons Jorak had for driving him away."

Standing about the ill-kept streets were a few of the people of the
crystal city. All were of magnificent physique, and intelligent
looking, white-skinned, and fair haired. All wore garments that seemed
of spun metal, and gleaming crystal weapons. Most of them were hurrying
along, intent on affairs of their own, but a few gathered around us
almost as soon as we stepped in the gate. I felt that they were hostile
to me. They questioned Melvar in a tongue that was strange to my ears;
then became engaged in a noisy debate among themselves. Their glances
toward me were furtive and sullen, and their eyes had the lock of men
crazed by fear.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                 Safe!

Melvar was saying something in a conciliatory tone, and I was swinging
my rifle into position for use, when there was a sudden shout from
the gate of the city, and the clashing of crystal weapons. The
interruption was most welcome to me. The crowd turned eagerly to the
new arrivals. I saw that they were a band of soldiers, possibly the
same that had passed me in the morning. Slung to a pole carried between
the foremost two, was a strange thing. Weirdly colored and fearfully
mutilated as it was, I saw that it was the naked body of a human being.
The head was cut half off, and dangling at a grotesque angle. The hair
was very long and very white, flying in loose disorder. The features
were withered and wrinkled, indeed the whole form was incredibly
emaciated. It was the corpse of a woman. The flesh was deep purple!

As I stood staring at the thing in horror, there was laughter and
cheering in the crowd, and a little child ran up to stab at the thing
with a miniature diamond sword. Melvar touched my arm.

"Come," she whispered. "Quickly. The people do not like your coming.
They did not like the things Austen told of the world outside, for the
priests teach that there is no such world. It is well that the hunters
came when they did with the Purple One. And let us hope that the
priests of the Purple Sun do not hear of you."

As she spoke she led me rapidly away through a tangle of the red brush,
and through a colonnade of polished sapphire. Then she quickly led the
way down a deserted alley, across another patch of the red shrubbery,
and down a short flight of steps into a chamber that was dark.

"Wait here," she commanded. "I must leave you. I think that Jorak
has had spies upon me, and if I were too long absent he might grow
suspicious. He was the enemy of my father, and some day my brother will
slay him. But sometimes I am afraid of the way he looks at me. However
there is no danger now. If the priests hear, I will somehow get you out
of Astran. I think they will not seek you here, whatever may happen. My
brother will bring the message from Austen, and food and drink. May you
rest well, and have faith in me!"

She ran up the steps, and left me standing in the darkness, in a state
of uncomfortable indecision. I did not like the turn that affairs had
taken. It is never pleasant to be alone in the dark in a strange and
dangerous place. I would have much preferred to take my chances out on
the open plain, with nothing but the moving lights to fear, terrible
as they were, than here in this strange city, full of ill-disposed
savages. A diamond knife will kill a man just as effectively and
completely as the weirdest death that ever roamed the night.

For a time I stood waiting tensely, with my rifle in my hand, but I was
very tired and weak. Presently I got out my flashlight and examined the
place. It was a little cell, apparently hewn in the living rock of the
mountain. There was nothing in the way of furniture except a sort of
padded shelf, or bed, at the back. I sat down upon it, and presently
went to sleep there, though I had no intention of doing so.

       *       *       *       *       *

                            Austen's Letter

The next I knew, someone was shaking my arm, and shouting strange words
in my ear. I opened my eyes. Standing before me was a young man. In
one hand he held a crystal globe filled with a glowing, phosphorescent
stuff, faintly lighting the little apartment. I sat up slowly, for my
limbs were stiff. The gun was still in my hand. Without saying anything
more, the young fellow pointed to a tray that he had set by me on the
shelf. It contained a crystal pitcher of aromatic liquid, and a dash
of the yellow fruit. I gulped down some of the drink, and ate a few of
the fruits, feeling refreshed almost immediately. Then the boy--he was
not more than sixteen years of age--thrust into my hand an envelope
addressed in the familiar handwriting of Austen. He handed me the light
and walked up the stone stairs.

With feeling that well may be imagined, I tore open the envelope and
read, in the faint light of the glowing bulb, the words of my old
friend.

                                  "Astran, in the Mountain of the Moon,
                                                         June 16, 1927.

    "To whomsoever of my own race this may be delivered:

    "Since you must so far have traveled the mysterious dangers of this
    strange world, it is needless for me to dwell upon them. I write
    this brief missive for the information of anyone who shall happen
    to find the way in here in the future, and in order that the riddle
    of my own disappearance may some time be cleared up, if I fail to
    return. For I intend to explore the region beyond this lake--I call
    it the Silver Lake--or to lose my life in the attempt.

    "My name is Horace Austen. I came to the Great Victoria Desert to
    investigate the sculptured columns reported by Hamilton, far to the
    west of here. I found the ruins and incredibly ancient they are.
    They must date from fifty thousand years ago, at the latest. Among
    them was an amazing pictographical record of a race of men driven
    by the drying up of their country to emigrate to the crater of a
    great mountain nearby. There was no mistaking the meaning. I was,
    of course, intensely interested, for nothing of the kind had ever
    been reported in Australia, and certainly the people depicted were
    not Bushmen.

    "It happened that I remembered Wellington's account of the Mountain
    of the Moon, whose northern cliff was followed for a few miles by
    his route of 1887. That appeared to be the best chance for the
    great crater described on the columns. It was but natural for me
    to decide to investigate it. There is no use for me to dwell upon
    my hardships, but the last of my water was drunk when I found the
    ladder, which was located just as the inscriptions indicated.

    "I reached the red plain without accident, and found the fruit of
    the strange vegetation a palatable and nourishing food. So far I
    have escaped the red lights that haunt the night, and it is their
    mystery that I am determined to solve. I went down to the metallic
    lake, and investigated it. I confess myself quite unable to account
    either for the nature or for the incredible origin of the fluid.
    With proper precaution it can be studied without great difficulty,
    but since I am almost entirely without apparatus, I have learned
    little enough about it.

    "I had been in the crater a week when I decided to approach the
    city of jewels on the mountain. I have been in Astran over a month,
    but on account of the savagery and ignorance of the people, and the
    oppressive rule of the priesthood, I have not been on very friendly
    relations with them--with the exception of the girl, Melvar, who
    seems far above the others of her race, and who has been my friend
    from the first. I have been able to learn but little from them,
    although I have acquired a fair knowledge of the language. My
    instructor in it, the beautiful Melvar, is showing a keen desire to
    learn English, of which she is gaining a command with remarkable
    speed, and is developing, as well, an insatiable curiosity about
    the outer world.

    "The sentiment against me has been ever running higher, and
    tomorrow I shall leave the crystal city, and endeavor to round the
    sea in the north and to reach the mist-veiled land beyond. My only
    regret in leaving is that I shall see Melvar no more. I wish there
    were some way to secure her the advantages of a civilized education.

    "These may be my last words to the world, if, indeed, they ever
    come into the hands of a civilized man. And I know that sooner
    or later the crater will be discovered and entered. My chief
    purpose in writing this, aside from the satisfaction of leaving an
    account of my own doings is to state my firm belief, I may say, my
    certain knowledge, that the strange things that may be observed
    here, supernatural or incredible as they may appear, result from
    perfectly natural forces in the control of a civilized power that
    may not be much above our own advancements.

                                                        Horace Austen."




                              CHAPTER VI

                            Fowler Recovers


I read it in the faint glow of the phosphorescent globe, and read
it again. So Austen was beyond the crescent, if he had been able to
carry out his plan. The date of the letter was ten months back. Then
the radio message had probably come from the other side. And why had
it been sent? Austen was not one to appeal for aid for himself alone.
Had he feared some general danger to the human race? I thought of his
phrase, "for the sake of mankind," and shuddered at a picture of the
red lights sweeping like destroying angels over a great city like New
York decimating the terrorized population.

I tried to think what was best for me to do, if ever I got out of
Astran alive. I supposed that Austen had been able to round the Silver
Lake in the north. I should be able to follow him. Clearly there was
nothing for me to do but to find out as much about this strange world
as possible, and to get the equipment to him as soon as I could do so.

I stayed in the cellar-like home for a week. Twice each day the
young chap came to bring food and drink. He knew but a few words of
English, and during the hour or so he stayed each time I had him to
try teaching me the language of Astran. But my progress was slow,
and I never learned more than a few score words. The language seemed
much more complex, even, than English, with bewildering rules of
inflection. But I developed quite a liking for the boy. He had a
simple, straight forward manner, and a good sense of humor. His name
was Naro. He was the brother of Melvar, and two years younger. Their
father, it seemed, had been carried off several years before, when the
flying lights made a great raid, and the mother had soon after fallen
a victim to the sacrificial rites of the hated Jorak. And the boy
himself bore the scars of wounds he had suffered a few months before in
a terrific battle with one of the Purple Ones, as those monsters were
called, which so mystified me then, and with which I had such terrible
experiences later.

On the second day Melvar came. She brought a great flask of aromatic
oil that she poured over my wounds. It must have been remarkably
healing, for in a few days I found myself entirely recovered. Before
she left she told me that the priests had heard of my arrival, and that
it was whispered among the people that I was a supernatural being, sent
as an omen of an attack by the Krimlu. She told me, too, that there was
talk that a sacrifice would soon be offered at the altar of the Purple
Sun, to appease the angry Spirits of the dead. Sweet and innocent
child, she seemed to have no fear that she, who had brought me into
the city, would be the sacrifice, and I did nothing to let her know my
misgivings, although I did propose that we leave the city together as
soon as possible. How I hated to see her leave the apartment!

       *       *       *       *       *

                     The Shrine of the Purple Sun

During the following days I questioned Naro constantly as to the doings
of his sister, and of the Astranians, but I was able to elicit no very
satisfactory information, except that none of the Krimlu had been seen
for several days, and that the headmen of the nation were beginning to
expect a raid in force. Also I persuaded him to keep a very close watch
on the movements of Melvar, and to come to me at once if Jorak made any
attempt to get her into his power, or if the sacrificial ceremony was
begun with the victim unselected.

During the interminable periods when I was alone, I was driven almost
insane by the monotony and the anxiety of my existence. But I had my
scientific equipment, and I had the boy to bring me a few assorted
fragments of the crystal building stone, which I tested and found to be
real gems, of several varieties. Many of the gems were simple enough
in chemical formula, and composed of the most common elements, so the
synthesis of them by scientific means is not unreasonable.

For example, it is a well-known fact that diamond is just a crystal
form of carbon, which element occurs in three allotropic forms. Those
three forms are diamond, graphite, which also crystallizes, and
amorphous carbon, of which charcoal is a form. Since carbon occurs in
the air in carbon dioxide, it is not impossible that latterday science
would be able to manufacture diamonds from the air. Sapphires are
aluminum oxide, or alumina, colored with a little cobalt, and rubies
are composed of the same oxide, with a trace of chromium, to which the
color is due. A clay-bed would supply an inexhaustible amount of the
elements needed for the synthesis of these gems, and I think the people
of old Astran had been able to accomplish it. I examined the little
glow-lamp, too, and found it to be simply a crystal bottle filled with
the moist crushed leaves of the red plants, which formed a culture of
some kind of luminous bacteria.

On the seventh night, when the pale ray of daylight that filtered down
into my hiding place was dimmed, Naro burst into the chamber, panting,
and wild-eyed with terror. His crystal sword was gone, his metallic
mantle was torn, and blood was falling, drop by drop, from a deep
scratch on his arm. He thrust into my hand a tattered scrap of paper,
evidently the flyleaf of a book. On it, in an ink that I took at first
to be blood, although it was probably the juice of the red plants, the
following words were formed in hastily drawn printing characters.

    "Winfield, There is no hope. The priests will offer a gift to the
    Purple Sun. I am the victim. Already I am in the hands of Jorak. I
    am sorry, for I loved you. It may be that I can give this to Naro,
    who could take it to you. The Krimlu are coming tonight. Already
    their lights flicker above the mist. In the morning my brother will
    take you to the gate, and you may escape. If only it had been one
    night later we might have all been away together. Farewell.

                                                               Melvar."

No time was to be lost. I had been anticipating something of the kind.
The guns were cleaned and loaded. My pack was soon ready. Naro took a
part of my equipment. I followed the boy up the stair, with the phrase,
"For I loved you," ringing in my heart.

We reached the top and walked out into the red brush. Beneath the
purple starlight the vast fantastic columned halls of Astran were
gleaming faintly, and I caught a brief blue flicker from the great
machine on the ruby dome.

Suddenly, with a sharp thrill of terror that made me catch my breath,
I heard the awful distant whining sigh that grew until it rolled and
reverberated through the heavens, and the air seemed alive with its
deep intensity. Above the emerald wall I glimpsed the green-tipped
needle of crimson that made the sound. It was sweeping through the sky
meteor-swift, while the pale blue beam stabbed out at it ineffectually.
It passed in an instant, but others came, and soon the sky was lighted
with the weird red radiance, and the very mountain top vibrated with
the whistling roars. The things swept around and around in a mad
confusion of darting flames. They were like moths about a candle.

We passed an amber palace wall and came suddenly upon a great,
metal-floored court. Marching across it were a half score of the
Astranian men-at-arms, their accoutrements gleaming weirdly in the
light of the strange things above. They saw us at once, and charged
upon us with a shout. I dropped to my knees. Once my rifle spoke, and I
rejoiced at its heavy thrust against my shoulder, and the acrid odor of
the smoke. I felt a man again. And the leader of the soldiers fell upon
his face.

       *       *       *       *       *

                             Melvar Saved

Naro gripped my shoulder and pointed upward. One of the red things was
plunging down, like a great red Zeppelin with a great green light at
its forward end, its purple phosphorescent track swirling up behind it.
The soldiers forgot us and scattered in mad terror. Naro jerked my arm
and in a moment we had tumbled into a copse of the red brush. For a
moment the bloody radiance was thrown upon us in an intense flood, and
the screaming roar was deafening. A few minutes more, and the thing had
flashed up and away. A breath of hot purple mist passed over us. When
we got to our feet and crept out of the thicket the soldiers were gone.

Swiftly, Naro led me on, keeping in the shadows of the building, on in
the cover of the thickets. Once a man sprang suddenly at us from behind
a sapphire pillar, diamond sword drawn. My pistol exploded in his face
and blew his head half off. Naro possessed himself of the dead man's
weapons, and we went breathlessly on. Three times, in other parts of
the city, we saw the red shapes drop to the ground for a few minutes,
and then dart up again, while ever the blue ray played back and forth
upon them.

At last we passed between vast ruby columns and stood beneath the huge
red dome. Before us lay a great space, fairly lit with a rosy light
from the crystal walls. Around the farther side were seated tier upon
tier, thousands of the brilliantly clad people of Astran. In the center
of the great floor, resting upon a pedestal, was a globe of shining
purple--a sphere of coruscating flame--itself immense, perhaps forty
feet in diameter, but insignificant in that colossal hall. Standing at
rigid attention, in regular rows about the pedestal were a few score
bright-armed soldiers, and as many other erect men in long purple
robes. All eyes were fixed on a point in front of the gigantic globe,
and hence hidden from where we stood.

We hurried silently across the smooth metal floor, our footsteps
drowned in the rushing sounds of the flying things above. We ran around
the great purple sun-sphere of crystal, and came abruptly upon a
dramatically terrible scene. Beneath the sphere was an altar of glowing
red, with the priests and soldiery all grouped about it. By the altar,
kneeling and silent, clad in a filmy green robe, was the beautiful form
of Melvar. Just behind her stood a tall hawk-like man, in his hands a
great transparent crystal vessel full of a liquid that gleamed like
molten silver.

As we came around the sphere he was holding up the vessel and repeating
a strange chant in a monotonous monotone. At sight of us he dropped
into alarmed silence, with an ugly scowl of hate and fear distorting
his harsh features. For a moment he stood as if paralyzed, then he
rushed toward the silent girl as though to empty the contents of the
crystal pitcher upon her.

I fired on the instant, and had the luck to shatter the vessel,
splashing the shining silvery fluid all over his person. The effect
of it was instantaneous and terrible. His purple robe was eaten away
and set on fire by the stuff; his flesh was dyed a deep purple, and
partially consumed. He tottered and fell to the floor in a writhing,
flaming heap.

In the confusion, and the dazed silence that fell upon the vast
assemblage at sight of that horrible thing, Melvar, aroused from her
resignation of despair by the report of the pistol, sprang to her feet
in incredulous surprise. For a moment she looked wonderingly at us.
Then she turned and shouted a few strange and impressive words at the
priests. Her white arms swept up in a curious gesture.

Then she turned and sped toward us. We started running back the way
we had come. The dramatic fall of Jorak, and the evident terror
that Melvar's courageous and timely words, whatever they had been,
had inspired, served to hold the Astranians motionless until we had
traversed the better part of the distance to the columns. But then they
started after us en masse. I dropped to my knees at the columns and
began firing steadily with the rifle. They fell, sometimes two or three
at a shot, but still they charged on, and their number was overwhelming.

Then, outside, there was a sudden louder shrieking roar. A flood of red
light poured through the columns, and there was a terrific crash upon
the dome. Dense clouds of hot purple vapor poured into the vast room.
One of the flying lights had landed upon the roof. The charging throng
behind us stopped and ran about in confusion. We darted out through the
purple clouds and ran for the shadow of the nearest building. We kept
close by the mighty walls until we reached the gate. Daring the terrors
of the night, we ran out and down the narrow trail. By dawn we were
several miles from Astran in the direction of the shining lake.




                              CHAPTER VII

                            The Silver Lake


At the coming of day we were walking over a gently rolling scarlet
plain, scattered with gigantic solitary boulders, that sloped gradually
down to the Silver Lake. The lake lay flat and argent white, clad in
all the ominous mystery of that strange world, calling, beckoning us
on, challenging us to learn the secret of the fartherest bank of purple
fog, with a grim warning of the doom that might await us. The red
fern-like sprays waved gently in the breeze, and the vivid, tiny white
flowers seemed to sparkle with a million glancing rays, like frost in
the sunshine; but the deep intensity of the red color lent a weird and
unpleasant suggestion of blood. Beyond the Silver Lake, low hills rose,
faint and mysterious in the purple haze.

Melvar walked beside me when the way was smooth enough; she was talking
vivaciously. She had a keen sense of humor and a lively wit. She seemed
to have an almost childishly perfect faith in my power and that of my
guns--but I was far from feeling confident.

At sunrise we stopped by a little pool of clear water, drank, and made
a meal of the abundant yellow fruit. Astran, with the scintillating
fires kindled again in its jeweled towers by the rising sun, lay far
behind and above us. When we had finished eating, Melvar stood looking
for a long moment at its glorious sparkling light. She murmured a few
words beneath her breath, in the Astranian tongue, and turned again
toward the Silver Lake.

In two hours we came to the shore of the great lake. The red scrub grew
up to the brink of a bluff a dozen feet high. Below was a broad, bare
sandy beach, with the gleaming waves, quicksilver white, rolling on it
two hundred yards away. For a few minutes we stood at the edge of the
cliff, in the fringe of crimson brush, and let our eyes wander over the
vast flat desert of flowing argent fire. We peered at the misty red
hills beyond, trying to penetrate their mysteries, and to read what
lay behind them. Then we scrambled down on the hard white sand. Naro
grasped his weapon and looked up and down the beach.

"It is along the shore of the Silver Lake," Melvar said, "that the
Purple Ones are most frequently found."

"The Purple Ones, again!" I cried. "What are they--decorated
rattlesnakes?" Then, with a sickening sensation of terror, I remembered
the horrible, half-human purple corpse that I had seen the soldiers
bringing into Astran. "Are the Purple Ones men?"

"In form, they are men and women," Melvar said, "but they dwell alone
in the thickets like beasts. All of them are old and hideous. They
are savage, and they have the strength each of many men. Our soldiers
must always hunt them, and fight them to the death. A single man,
even though armed, could do nothing against one of them, for they
are terribly strong, and they fight like demons. Their country is not
known, and no children of their kind are ever found. The priests say
that they are of a race of dwarfs that dwell beneath the Silver Lake."

Here was another of the baffling mysteries of this strange world. In
fact, I was coming upon unpleasant mysteries much faster than I could
comfortably stomach them. Lone, purple, savage animals, in the form of
emaciated humans, who prowled about the country like wolves, and like
wolves were hunted down by the Astranians! Again I shuddered at the
memory of the limp purple corpse the soldiers had carried, and with
a strange chill of the heart, I remembered the human footprints that
had been left where my ponies were taken in the desert, and of the
eerie, insane laughter that I had heard, or thought I heard, above the
whistling roar.

My thoughts ended with the construction of a mad hypothesis of a race
of purple folk who lived beyond the Silver Lake, who were accustomed
to make slave raids on the whites in torpedo-shaped airships, and who
made a practise of releasing, or turning out, the superannuated ones
of their kind to prey on the people of the crystal city. It seemed,
in fact, quite plausible at the time, but I was far from the hideous
truth. I could see no reason, if one race could attain a civilization
high enough to synthetize diamonds for building stone, why another
might not be able to build ships as marvelous as the red torpedoes.
But my reason rebelled at the acceptance of the ideas of demonic and
supernatural horrors my emotional self tried to force upon it.

       *       *       *       *       *

                        The Touch of the Metal

Presently I roused myself and led the way down the white waves. My
companions held back nervously and warned me not to touch it, or I
would die as Jorak had done. But I succeeded in filling a test tube
with the stuff. It was not transparent. It was white, gleaming,
metallic, like mercury, or molten silver. I carried it back up to the
bluff and set about examining it, while Naro stood guard, and Melvar
watched me. She asked innumerable questions, concerning not only the
operation in hand, but on such subjects as the appearance of a cat,
and Fifth Avenue styles of ladies' garments. Upon which (the latter
subject), however, I was lamentably ignorant. And so often did I
pause, to answer her questions, to laugh at the naive quaintness of
her phrases, or to let my eyes rest on her charming face, that the
attempted analysis of the metal did not progress with any remarkable
celerity.

The silver liquid was very mobile and very light, having a specific
gravity of only .25, or not even four times that of liquid hydrogen,
which is .07. It was extremely corrosive. Tiny bits of wood or paper
were entirely consumed on contact with it, with the liberation,
apparently, of carbon dioxide and water vapor, and a dense purple gas
that I could not identify. That suggested, of course, that the stuff
contained oxygen, but as to how much, or in what combination, I had no
idea. A drop of it on a larger piece of paper set it afire. I found,
too, when testing the electrolytic qualities of the liquid, that when I
introduced into it a copper and a silver coin, electrically connected,
that the stuff was rapidly decomposed into the purple vapor, with the
generation of a powerful current. But the metal seemed not affected at
all. That was another puzzling result. My experiments, of course, were
comparatively crude, and when I had gone as far as I could, I really
knew little more about the silver liquid than in the beginning.

Despite Melvar's warning, and my own precautions, I splashed a drop
of it on my arm. She cried out in horror, and I saw that a splotch of
purple was spreading like a thin film over the skin. There was no pain,
but the muscles of the arm were seized with sudden and uncontrollable
convulsions. Melvar tried to wash the stain off with water from my
canteen. In an hour the color had faded, though the limb was still sore
and painful.

By that time, the purple disc of the sun was sinking low, and we took
thought of how to spend the night. Naro climbed up on the plain to
gather a few of the fruits for our supper, and we found a little cave
in the bluff that seemed a good place of shelter. I gathered an armful
of the red brush and made a fire.

The leaves burned fiercely, crackling as if they contained oil. The
fire produced a great volume of acrid black smoke. Combustion was
greatly accelerated on account of the increased atmospheric pressure
here, many thousand feet below sea level. Melvar and Naro were
intensely interested in the performance, although they had seen Austen
light a fire while he was in the city.

Melvar slept in the cavern, and Naro and I took turns at standing guard
at the entrance. The darting pencils of crimson were abroad again, but
they passed far overhead, and we heard the sounds of their passage only
as vast and distant sighs. In the morning we rose early, and clambered
back up the cliffs. I was in rather a puzzling situation. Clearly my
duty was to get Austen's equipment to him as quickly as possible, but
I liked neither to desert Melvar and her brother, nor to let them
accompany me into the unknown perils of the region beyond. But the
latter course seemed the best, and they were ready enough to go with me
anywhere.

       *       *       *       *       *

                          The Land of Madness

Having retraced our course of the day before for perhaps a mile, in
order to get upon the upland, we set out for the north. The sun was
just rising above the black rim when Naro shouted and pointed at the
mist-clad red hills beyond the Silver Lake. At first I looked in vain;
then I caught a faint flicker of amber light, pulsing up through the
purple air.

Abruptly a vast mellow golden beam of light sprang from behind the
distant scarlet hills and spread up toward the zenith in a deep
yellow flood. It seemed to vibrate, to throb with incredibly rapid
fluctuations. Suddenly, bright swift-changing formless shapes of green
and red flared up within it, shot up the beam, and vanished. The
radiance dimmed and died. I could see nothing, but somehow I felt that
an invisible beam of vibrant force was still pouring up into the sky.
Here was another manifestation of the unknown power beyond the sea. The
beam had come. So far as visibility was concerned, it was gone. What
had been its meaning, its purpose?

Beyond the Silver Lake, low cliffs rose above a broad sandy beach,
faintly veiled by the purple mist. The red hills were fainter still
above them, and the thicker pall of purple haze that hung over the
hidden place beyond, stood out distinctly against the distant, steep
black wall that threw his jagged crags to the sky so far above. Out
of that vale of mystery the ray had leapt--and died. Or had it merely
faded, and was now, invisible ... pulsing still?

All seemed as it had been before, but from the attitude of my
companions I knew there was more to come. They were gazing up into the
sun-bright void above and waiting expectantly.

Then I saw, far, far above, growing gradually brighter against the sky,
as if it were being projected there by a great magic lantern behind
the hills, an upright bar of silver haze. Slowly it grew brighter and
its outlines sharper until it looked like a vertical bar of silver
metal in the sky--inconceivably huge. The length of the bar must have
been miles, its diameter, many hundreds of yards. It hung still in the
heavens, neither rising nor falling. Here was the display, indeed, of
alien science and power!

Presently I recovered from my first wonder, and became conscious
that the blue eyes of Melvar were upon me quite as much as on the
astonishing thing in the sky. "Melvar, have you seen it before?" I
asked. "Is it real--natural? Is it made by man?" I found to my surprise
that my voice was odd and quavery. I had not realized the intensity of
my nervous strain. I waited eagerly for the reassurance that she could
not give.

"It comes often," she replied. "Every day for many months of the year.
The priests say that it is the evil goddess of the under-earth, who
loves the Purple Sun and flies to the sky to meet him. But the Sun goes
on unheeding, and the goddess cries silver tears until her Lord is gone
from the sky. But there is yet more to see."

I looked up again and saw that a faint colored mist was gathering
about the bar. It grew brighter, condensed, seemed drawn into swirling
rings by a sort of magnetic attraction. And the iridescent mist-rings
swam about the bar, moved ever faster until they were whirling madly.
Their coruscating shapes grew brighter, plainer, until they were vivid,
spinning flames of color in the sunshine. I noticed that the red was
about the center of the silver bar, and that the bands of color above
and below ran regularly to the other end of the spectrum, with rings
of violet at the bottom and at the top. During all this time I heard no
sound. It was as still as death.

Still the color-rings spun and changed, growing ever brighter and
sharper edged. The red band grew larger about the center, until its
diameter was the length of the cylinder. It gleamed with a lurid
scarlet light. Below and above were spinning, burning circles of
orange, yellow, green, and blue, each thinner than the one next nearer
the center, and of smaller diameter. And the violet rings had shrunk to
great globes of violet fire, shining with painful intensity.

Indeed, as Melvar had said, there had been more to see. The thing was
so utterly strange, so utterly inexplicable, that I was grasped in
a paralysis of unfamiliar terror, my breath choked off and my heart
beating wild with fear, staring straight at it. It was so definitely
directed by intelligence that I felt it must spring from a weird and
awful mind. Indeed, it seemed that I felt the power of a vast and alien
will stealing over me, seizing command of me, making me the slave of
itself. I struggled against it. I clenched my hands and knotted my
muscles with the intensity of my resistance to the spell. Wheeling
sparks of red fire swam before my eyes.

Then my efforts weakened. I could hold out no longer. The alien will
had won. Reason and feeling and love flowed away and left me as cold
and cruel as a rock in a stormy, wintry coast--a savage, inhuman
animal. Care had left me. My soul had lost her throne. I laughed. A
wild, unearthly sound it was, like that I had heard as I lay beneath
the tent beyond the barrier.

I whirled around fiercely, but a firm arresting hand was laid on my
shoulder. From afar off, deep blue eyes looked into mine--eyes that
were cool and sane and brave. They shone through the red curtains of
insanity in my brain. They broke the spell of fear.

Suddenly I was very weak, and trembling and sick. Melvar's lithe arms
were close about me. Her throbbing heart was close to mine. And in her
dark, warm blue eyes, so close to mine, were sympathy, and tenderness,
and love. She was human; she was real. I knew that her love would
shield me from these terrors. I smiled at her, and sank down weakly in
the red brush. But she had saved my mind. I had wandered on the brink
of the fearful insanity of terror, and she had brought me back.

I looked from her sweet face, so full of anxious concern to the thing
in the sky. But now it seemed remote, unreal, and I gazed at it with
weak indifference. Presently I saw that the whole thing was beginning
to sink as though a weight were being accumulated upon it. Suddenly
an immense gleaming globule of silver fell from the lower violet
globe and dropped straight for the Silver Lake, while the weird form
of lights that had made it floated back to its former elevation. The
great shining sphere fell and struck the white lake with a deafening
roar, sending out great concentric waves in all directions. The amazing
thing sank again, released a second huge drop, and rose. The process
was repeated again and again, the interval being, by my watch, about 3
minutes, 15.2 seconds. All day it went on, with the great waves washing
up the bluffs above the beach, and before night the level of the Silver
Lake stood perceptibly higher.

Here was the mystery of the origin of the Silver Lake explained, but
by a phenomenon far more inexplicable than the sea itself. In vain I
tried to account for it in some rational way, or to assign some natural
cause for the thing. My mind could hardly grasp it. It was almost
unbelievable, even as I looked upon it. My reason would not admit that
such a thing could be in a rational world.




                             CHAPTER VIII

                      Stalked by the Purple Beast


So weak was I after that terrible experience that it was noon before I
felt able to go on. The thing, as I have said, continued to hang in the
sky all day, and to drop regularly its burden of the silver liquid. But
presently I became accustomed to it, and realized that it threatened us
with no immediate danger.

After a light lunch of the yellow fruit, and a deep draught of water
from a little stream that seemed almost parallel to our route of march
for a mile or two, we retired to the higher ground where the scrub was
not so dense as in the bottom of the valley, and set out for the north
again. Still I was feeling mentally limp--dully indifferent to what was
passing about--and physically exhausted as well. I was not as much on
my guard against the weird perils of the place as I should have been.

Several times Naro stopped and listened, declaring that something
was following us, keeping in the cover of waist-high brush in the
bottom of the little valley along the side of which we were traveling.
But I could hear nothing. Melvar, for once, had ceased her eager
interrogation, and was entertaining me with the legendary account
of the past great heroes of Astran. She sang me a few passages from
the epic in her native tongue. Her voice was clear and pure and very
beautiful. And though the words were strange to me, their sound was
noble and suggestive, and there was a powerful, compelling rhythm in
the lines. She translated the story into English. It was about such
an epic poem as might have been expected, dealing with the adventures
of an immortal hero, who had once conquered the Purple Ones, set up
the vast palaces of Astran, and at last lost his life on an expedition
across the Silver Lake to battle the Krimlu.

Suddenly her sweet voice was interrupted by a low, tense cry from
Naro, who had fiercely gripped my arm. I turned in time to see a weird
figure, gnarled and stooped, with long white hair, slink swiftly and
furtively from a great rock to the shelter of the red brush. Squat and
bent as it was, there was no mistaking that it was human in shape, and
that the skin was purple.

In the dull apathy in which I was sunken, I could not realize the
danger. "I guess a rifle bullet will fix it," I said.

"The Purple Ones have more power than you know," cried Melvar. "Let us
try to get on more open ground before it attacks. Then it will have to
leave its cover."

So we turned and ran away from the stream, to a rocky hillside, where
the red scrub grew low and scant. As we ran I heard a crashing behind
us. Once I turned quickly, and raised my rifle. The strange figure
darted abruptly into view, and I fired on the instant. I think I hit
it, for it spun around quickly, and fell to the ground. But in a moment
it was up, and running toward us with an agility that was incredible,
springing over the red brush in great bounds, with a motion more like
that of a monstrous hopping insect than of a human being. His white
hair was flying in wild disorder, his shrunken limbs plainly flashing
purple. And a terrible sound came from it as it bounded along--not
a scream of rage or of pain, but a weird uncanny laugh, that rang
strangely over the red plain, and somehow made us pause in our race,
and tremble with alien terror.

       *       *       *       *       *

                            A Narrow Escape

But we broke the icy fingers of fear that gripped our hearts, and ran
on until we reached a great flat rock that lay at the upper edge of
the bare space, in the edge of the thickets again. I lifted Melvar in
my arms until she could reach the top and scramble up. Then I looked
back and saw the purple man leaping across the clearing with incredible
speed, not two hundred yards away.

Then Naro and I got up on that rock--I have never been able to remember
just how we did it. I dropped to my knees, seized the rifle that I had
pushed up before me, and began to pump lead at the beast as fast as
I could work the bolt. The recoils of the gun seemed almost a steady
thrust. I heard the bullets thud into the purple body. I saw it checked
or driven back by the impacts. One bullet took it off its balance
and it fell. But in a moment it was racing on again, empowered by
super-human energy.

When my rifle was empty it was not twenty feet away. One arm was gone.
One side of the body was fearfully torn. The purple face was a hideous
mangled thing. It did not bleed, but the wounds were covered with a
purple viscous slime. One of the eyes was gone, and the other glared
at us with a wild red light. Anything of ordinary life must long since
have been dead. But it gathered itself, and leapt for the top of the
boulder.

On the day before I had showed Melvar how to use my guns, merely by
way of proof that there was nothing supernatural in the working of
the weapon that had slain so many of the Astranians in the temple.
Now I pushed one of the pistols toward her. She was standing there
motionless, calmly even. There was no panic in her face, and I knew
that she would have the courage to use the weapon to save herself from
the terrible brute, if things came to the worst. She smiled at me, even
as she picked up the gun. Then, looking at the safety, she gripped it
in a business-like way.

As the purple monster sprang upon the boulder, I emptied my automatic
into it. Great wounds were torn in the dark flesh, and half the face
was shot away, but the thing seemed immune to death by ordinary means.
As the last shot was fired it stood before us on the rock, a terrible
mangled thing, the red eye blazing with demonic inhumanity.

Naro sprang out before me, his crystal sword drawn high. As the beast
sprang at him, he cut at it with a mighty sweep of the razor-edged
weapon. But the stroke, which would have decapitated an ordinary human,
was parried by a terrific blow of the claw-like hand of the thing, and
the boy was sent spinning back against me. We fell together on the rock.

Then it hurled itself toward Melvar. It all happened in the briefest of
moments, before I could even begin to rise. She swung up the automatic
with a quick, sure, graceful movement. She was like a beautiful goddess
of battle, with blue eyes shining brightly, and golden hair gleaming
in the sun. Again that mad laugh was ringing out, with a choking sob
in it, for the thing's vocal organs were injured. It leapt at her, its
lacerated limbs working like machines. Calmly she stood, with automatic
raised. The muzzle of the gun was not an inch from the throat of the
beast when she fired. The strange head was blown completely off the
body, and fell rolling and bouncing to the red brush below. The body
collapsed, writhing and convulsed. It was not quiet for many minutes.

The girl dropped the gun, suddenly trembling, and threw herself into
my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Her courage and coolness had saved us
all, and I admit that I was quite as much unstrung as she after the
danger had passed. What a wonderful being she was!

       *       *       *       *       *

                             The Red Ship

It was so late in the day, and we were so completely exhausted that we
decided to go no farther. Naro was not hurt, save for a few scratches;
and I suppose he was the least excited of the three. In a few minutes
he threw the quivering purple body off the boulder and carried it and
the head back across the clearing to dispose of them. When he returned
we found an overhanging shelf on the north side of the boulder that
would afford some shelter from the flying lights. We gathered some of
the yellow fruit for supper, cleaned and reloaded the weapons, and
prepared to spend the night there.

Naro called me aside and showed me a curious, much-worn silver
bracelet, with a singular design upon it. He told me, in his imperfect
English, that it had belonged to his father, who had been taken by the
flying lights many years before. That was a curious development. It
showed that there was some connection between the dreaded Purple Ones,
and the terrible, pillaging red lights. But the full significance of
it did not dawn upon me until later.

By that time I was in a measure accustomed to the passage of the
rushing, whistling needles of crimson fire, and during the first part
of the night I was able to sleep, while Naro sat up to keep watch. At
midnight he awakened me, and we changed places. The sky was crossed
and recrossed by the faint and flickering tracks of red, and the night
was weirdly lit by the torpedo-shapes of scarlet flame that sped upon
them. With a fatuous sense of security, I was leaning back against the
boulder, smoking my pipe and caressing the cold metal of the rifle in
my hand, dreaming of what Melvar and I might do if ever we were to
emerge into the world alive.

The red thing was upon me before I knew it. The light of my pipe must
have been visible to it. In my accursed thoughtlessness, that danger
had never occurred to me. The thing came plunging down, flooding the
landscape with its lurid crimson radiance, while the earth vibrated to
its whistling, hissing scream. There was no need to waken my companions
for they sprang to their feet in alarm. We all cowered back against the
rock in the hope of escaping observation. But the thing had already
seen us.

I put my arm about the warm, throbbing body of Melvar, and drew her
close to my breast. Her own cool white hand grasped mine as silently we
waited.

The red object came down swiftly, paused just above the crimson
thickets before us, then settled deliberately to earth. It was the
first opportunity I had had for a close examination of these things.
The shape was plainly cylindrical, tapering toward the ends. It was
perhaps ten feet in diameter, and a hundred long. Set on the forward
end was a bright green globe, perhaps three feet in diameter.

A clump of brush about the end of the cylinder burst into flame. As
the bright crimson hue began to dull, I grasped suddenly the fact that
the red color was due to the red heat generated by friction with the
air, which was very great at the meteor pace the thing attained. It lay
there, not fifty yards away, with the fire blazing and crackling about
the end on our right, and eating its way into the thickets. The green
sphere on the other end seemed to stare at us like a great intent eye.
The red color slowly faded. Suddenly Melvar gripped my arm.

"Why wait?" she whispered. "Perhaps it does not see us after all. Let
us slip around the boulder."

But on the instant we moved a great oval space swung out of the
side of the cylinder. We saw that the door and walls were of a
bluish white metal, and were very thick. It was very dark inside. A
blood-congealing, eerie laugh sounded out of that darkness, and I
shuddered. Quickly five human-like figures leaped one by one out of
the oval doorway. With heart-chilling fear, I saw, by the flickering
light of the burning thicket, that long white hair hanging about faces
wrinkled and hideously aged, with toothless gums, red glaring eyes, and
skin that was purple. Without a moment's hesitation, the five naked
monsters rushed down upon us.

The fire was fast blazing higher and burning rapidly into the brush
between us and the cylinder, and we could see the purple beasts
quite plainly in its light. And they were hideous to look upon. They
came toward us with monstrous springing bounds, actuated by some
extraordinary force. Their muscles must have been far stronger than
those of men, perhaps as strongly constructed as those of insects.
Or, since muscular force depends on the intensity of nerve currents,
perhaps their nerves were extraordinarily excited. And there was
something insect-like in the way life had lingered in the body of the
one we had killed, when it had already many wounds that should have
been mortal.

I leveled my rifle, drew a bead on the neck of the foremost one, and
fired. I must have had the luck to shatter the bones, for the head
dropped limply to the side. The thing stopped abruptly, groping blindly
about with its talon-like fingers. It seemed very strange that it
did not fall. In an instant one of the others ran close by it. The
crippled monster sprang savagely at the other, and in a moment they
were writhing and struggling in the brush, tearing at one another with
tiger-like ferocity. The others passed by them for a moment, while I
finished emptying the rifle, without visible results.

       *       *       *       *       *

                             Saved by Fire

BY that time the crackle of the swiftly spreading fire had grown to a
dull roar. It swept fast across the brush, red flames flaring high,
and dense smoke rolling up into the night. The purple beasts did not
appear to see it. They made no effort to avoid the flames. Were they
invulnerable to fire? Or was fire merely unknown to them as to the
people of Astran?

The three rushed straight on toward us, disregarding the rushing wall
of flame not a dozen yards to the right of them. I kept firing madly.
The leg of one went limp, but he leapt on with scarcely diminished
speed, laughing terribly, with the white hair flying about the awful
face, and the purple limbs moving frenziedly. The flames rushed over
the fallen two and hid them. In another instant the curtain of fire had
rolled over the others, and even the ship was hidden from our view.

Suddenly I realized that we were in quite as much danger from the fire
as from the monsters. Already we were shrinking from the hot wind that
blew before the flames, and half choked by the acrid fumes. For the
second time we made a mad retreat to the top of the boulder, and lay
flat. I heard a terrible laugh from the flames, and in a moment one of
the things dashed out. His hair was gone, and the purple flesh burnt
black. I shot as it showed itself, and it fell. In another instant the
flames had raced over it again. None of the others appeared.

We lay on the rock for several minutes, gasping in the cooler air that
lingered near its surface. For a time the heat was stifling, but the
scanty vegetation had burned off quickly, and soon a cool breeze came
up from the south and lifted the smoke. We saw that the cylinder still
lay where it had been, although the heavy body was closed. The green
light still shone in the forward end. About it the earth lay black and
smoking, and a low line of flame lay below the pall of smoke in a great
ring all about us. Between us and the ship I saw in the darkness the
black shadows that were the five dead beasts.

I was just beginning to wonder if all the crew of the ship were dead,
so that we might enter and examine it, when the great oval door in the
side swung open again, and something sprang out of it into the night. I
heard a strange hissing, and a clatter of metal. In the semi-darkness
I could see nothing plainly, but there was a floating shape of
greenish mist, with a vague form beneath. I strained my eyes to try to
distinguish its shape, while it stood motionless.

Abruptly a narrow, intensely bright beam of orange light shot out of it
and impinged upon the rock. There was a dull thud from the rock, and
the ray was dead in a moment. But the granite where it had struck was
cut away--obliterated! The beam had shone straight through the boulder,
carrying away, or resolving into primary electrons, the matter on which
it had struck! The smooth edges of the cut were glowing with a soft
violet radiance.

My rifle was at hand, and on recovering from my surprise, I fired. I
aimed just below the greenish patch. Something must have been exploded
by the bullet, for there was a vivid flash of white fire, and a loud,
sharp report. The spot of green was visible no longer, and we saw no
motion about the cylinder. At the time I had no idea what it was that
I had shot. I supposed that it had been another of the purple beasts
armed with a strange ray weapon. I imagined that the bullet had struck
the weapon and caused an explosion.




                              CHAPTER IX

                        The Battle in the Mist


For perhaps an hour we sat there on the rock. As soon as the smoke
cleared, we could see the crimson needles flying high upon their vague
red tracks, and we watched them with a sort of hypnotic fascination,
dreading the moment when one of them would land to investigate the fate
of the ship that lay silent and presumably empty before us. The ground
was still too hot for us to walk upon, and we felt the uselessness
of attempting to escape on foot, even if it had already cooled. With
a feeling of resigned and hopeless horror, we saw one of the crimson
pencils circle lower about the place, then disappear in the direction
of its lair beyond the Silver Lake.

Even as the whistling roar of its passage was rolling down upon us,
Melvar spoke. How I admire the courage and indomitable resourcefulness
of the girl. When I was hopelessly lost in despair, feeling all the
desolation of this region and the infinite remoteness of the world of
men, her pure rich voice and the warm living touch of her hand brought
new courage to me.

"The Krimlu are coming," she cried. "There is no use to try to fight
them, or to try to outrun them. But that ship must be empty. The walls
are metal and strong. Perhaps they could not open it."

While there were several things about the proposition that were not
very attractive, it seemed our best resource; and, besides, I had
a keen desire to see the interior of the thing. We gathered up our
equipment, climbed off the boulder, and hurried over to the cylinder. I
was possessed by a haunting fear that we would find something hideous
awaiting us, but the bright pencil of light from my pocket lamp
revealed no living being in the long interior, nor could I find even
a trace of the green patch that had blown up in front of the door. We
scrambled through the opening without difficulty and I turned a handle
that swung the heavy door shut and evidently locked it.

Then I set about examining the mechanism, for I had an intense
curiosity about the propulsive force that enabled the vessel to attain
a speed that must have reached thousands of miles per hour. In one
end were rows of long cylinders of a transparent substance, evidently
filled with the metallic fluid from the Silver Lake. Pipes ran from
them to a complex mechanism in the rear end of the ship, from which
heavy conduits ran all over the inside of the metal hull. While my
understanding of it all was far from complete, I was able to verify
a previous idea--that the strange vessels were driven by use of the
rocket principle. It seems that the silver fluid was decomposed
in the machine, and that the purple gas it formed, at a very high
temperature, was forced out through the various tubes at a terrific
velocity, propelling the ship by its reaction. The whistling roar of
the things in motion was, of course, the sound of the escaping gas, and
the red-purple tracks were merely the expelled gas hanging in the air.

The green globe in the forward end may have been the objective lens
for a marvelous periscope. At any rate the walls of the forward part
of the shell seemed transparent. And the periscope must have utilized
infra-red rays, for the scene about us seemed much brighter than it,
in reality, was. We could see very plainly the burned plain and the
granite rock, and once, through a rift in the clouds of smoke that were
rising all about, I caught a glimpse of the gleaming city of Astran,
high above us in the west.

I noticed a slender lever, with a corrugated disc at the top, rising
out of the floor in the bow of the ship. It occurred to me that it was
the control lever. I took hold of it and gingerly pushed it back. Great
jets of purple gas rushed past the transparent walls about us, and the
ship slid backward on the ground. The sensation of motion was most
alarming. The illusion of the transparency of the bow of the ship was
so perfect that it seemed almost as if we were hanging in space a few
feet in front of the mouth of an open tube. It was impossible for me to
realize that I was surrounded by solid walls of metal, until I touched
them. I think the wonderful telescope worked on much the same principle
as television apparatus--that is, that the rays of light were picked
up, converted into electrical impulses, amplified, and then projected
on the metal wall, which served as a screen.

[Illustration: It was holding my rifle, turning it and feeling it with
its slender finger-like tentacles. When the gun went off, it took a
grotesquely half-human attitude of surprise.]

       *       *       *       *       *

                           Battle In the Air

I returned to my experiments with the lever. The control was relatively
simple. The vessel was propelled forward when the lever was pushed
forward, and reversed when the lever was pulled back. Slipping the
little disc up or down raised or lowered the prow, and twisting the
thing accomplished the steering in the horizontal plane.

By the time my cautious experiments had revealed all of that, Melvar
had pointed out three slender crimson craft, wheeling low about us,
and evidently preparing to land. I pulled the knob up, and pushed it
forward all the way. A pale red beam shot ahead. The black landscape
dropped away from us, and we hurtled through the air of the night. I
was amazed at the lack of any great sensation of motion, and that the
jets of gas, for all their appalling roar without, were barely audible
within the cylinder. Still the fore part of the ship was transparent
from within, so that we had the oddest sensation of floating free in
space.

I saw that the three ships had fallen in a line behind us, and were
following at the same terrific pace. When we had reached an altitude of
perhaps a mile, I twisted the knob to bring the helm about, and we shot
over the Silver Lake, which lay like a white desert of moonlit sand
beneath us, standing out sharply against the dark plain around it. In
a moment we had gone over it, and over the low hills beyond, and into
the bank of purple mist. I had hoped to have time to land and have the
vessel on the ground below, but I looked back and saw that our pursuers
were gaining swiftly, and that slender twisting rays of bright orange
and green were darting toward us from the hurtling arrow-like ships of
red.

In the darkness and the mist we could see nothing of the ground below.
The only visible things were a few mist-veiled stars above, and the
bright scarlet torpedoes that shot after us. Quickly I circled and
raised the helm. I was almost intoxicated with excitement, and the
indescribable sensations of our swift and lofty flight. I felt released
from all the weaknesses of the body; I felt as if I had conquered the
force that holds all men to earth. I felt a new and wonderful sensation
of freedom and power. I had but to move the little piece of metal in my
hand to go where I pleased with the speed, almost, of light. But still
came the line of ships behind us, at an incredible pace, stabbing at us
with the green and orange rays.

Then, high above the others, I brought the ship around in a hair-pin
turn, and plunged directly at them. They tried to turn aside, while
their rays shot thickly toward us, but our speed was too great. The
foremost suddenly turned broadside toward us, attempting to get out of
our path. I held our bow directly at it; raised it a trifle at the
last instant. The keel of our vessel struck the other amidships. The
terrific crash of the collision hurled us to the floor.

When I regained my feet we were falling in a crazy twisting path, our
ship altogether out of control. No sooner was I on my feet than the
floor tilted up again and I fell back to my hands and knees. I saw that
the one we had struck was broken in two and plunging toward the earth
far behind us, while the other two were circling about, far overhead.
The mist about us grew thicker until the other ships, and the fragments
of the wrecked one, were strangely colored purple; thicker still, until
they vanished. We floated in a world of purple fog.

I seized the control lever as soon as our wild gyrations enabled me to
reach it, but my unskilled efforts only resulted in making us roll and
twist more wildly. So long as we had been on an even keel the piloting
had been easy enough, although I imagine my success in ramming the
other ship had been largely due to luck; but the blow against us had
been sidewise, setting the ship to spinning like a top. It seemed that
we fell an interminable time. Whenever the stern pointed downward for
a moment, I pushed the lever forward, to check our fall as much as
possible.

Through the mist I suddenly caught a glimpse of the dark ground below.
In another instant the vessel had struck heavily, throwing us against
the floor again.

Day was beginning to break at last, and we could see that we had fallen
on a bare, gravelly hilltop. The clear space was only an acre or so
in extent. We were shut in on all sides by a dense, dark forest of
gigantic trees, that rose threateningly, seeming to grasp us, to close
in on us. The purple mist hung in a sombre curtain overhead, only
faintly lighted by the coming day.

       *       *       *       *       *

                           The Silver Falls

Naro and I strapped on our packs, picked up our weapons, and opened
the door. The three of us stepped out to face the perils of another
world. What they might be, we did not know. I had no idea, even, what
part of the country was inhabited by the _Krimlu_. But Austen had not
let himself be conquered by the mere strangeness of the place. I still
hoped to be able to find him, although a search in such a jungle as
that about us seemed hopeless.

The walls of the rocket-ship were still glowing dully red with the heat
of its passage through the air, and we hurried away over the gravel
for fifty yards, to get beyond the fierce heat it radiated. The patch
of sky above was a dull, dusky, luminescent purple. It seemed almost
as if the mist shut out the daylight and lit the valley with a weird
radiance of its own. All about us towered the forest. As the light
grew better, we could see that the trees were red. They bore the same
feathery fronds, the same star-like flowers of brilliant white, and the
same golden-brown fruits as the plants of the plain about Astran. But
they were immensely greater; they towered up hundreds of feet. It was
like a forest of the tree-ferns of the Carboniferous period, save for
the deep bloody scarlet of the leaves. In fact, I think the red plants
are descended from some of them, strangely developed by the unusual
climatic conditions of the crater, or by the purple mist.

The ground all about the gravelly knoll was low and marshy, and the air
was heavy with the odors of rotting vegetation. There was no wind; and
the air, under the great atmospheric pressure, was heavy, moist and
hot. It was oppressive. It hung like a weight upon our chests. And the
crimson jungle seemed to possess a terrible life and spirit of its own.
It did not belong to our world.

The undergrowth was very thick. The higher branches were dimmed by the
purple mist. They seemed almost to reach the heavy, dull purple sky. It
appeared useless to try to penetrate it. It was an evil being waiting
to seize us the moment we crossed its bounds.

I got out my compass, and we decided to try to make our way toward the
north, in the direction of the pass by which we supposed Austen to
have rounded the Silver Lake. As I had last noted our position above
the mist, with reference to the lake and the crater walls, we had been
about fifteen miles south of the pass, at an estimate. I hoped, by
taking a course in that direction, to come across some trace of Austen.

As we approached the north side of the clearing, I made a startling
discovery.

In the side of the hill was a deposit of iron pyrites. Not that there
was anything remarkable about that. But the thing that struck me was
that the vein had been recently worked! I sprang down in the pit and
found on the rock traces of copper that had evidently come from soft
copper tools. I knew that Austen would have needed minerals, that,
indeed, if he had set up a wireless outfit in here, he must have been
compelled to do an immense amount of work in collecting and refining
the needed materials. I had little doubt that he had been there, but it
had been evidently weeks or months ago. Any trail that he might have
made through the forest would have already grown up.

I thought the situation over for a while, but still there seemed
nothing better to do than to follow our original plan of exploring the
jungle to the north. We plunged into the crimson gloom. Without the
compass we would have been quickly lost. Even with it, it was hard
enough to keep in the same direction, walking over the marshy, sodden
ground and breaking a path through the heavy undergrowth. We were soon
covered with mud and dyed red with the stain of the weird vegetation.

For many hours we struggled through a wilderness of endless sameness--a
dank morass, a crimson jungle, with the dusky purple sky hanging
heavily in the treetops. The bloody scarlet gloom was startling and
terrible.

At first the forest had been quiet, with a silence that was dead and
depressing, for there were no living things about us. No birds, no
insects--not even a bright moth or butterfly. It was a wilderness
of death. But presently we heard, far ahead of us, a dull, constant
roar, that grew ever louder as we went on. I supposed that we were
approaching a great waterfall. At last it grew so loud that we had to
shout when we wished one another to hear our words. I was glad of the
roar, for it drowned the sound of our progress through the jungle. But
the forest was so dense that there seemed little danger of our capture
unless we stumbled unaware on the habitation of the _Krimlu_.

Abruptly the jungle ended, and we stepped out on a bare ledge of stone.
Before us was one of the most magnificent spectacles that I have
beheld. To the west of us a great black cliff rose perhaps a thousand
feet--until it was almost lost against the lowering, smoky purple of
the sky. Over it plunged a vast sheet of the glowing white liquid of
the Silver Lake, falling in a gigantic unbroken arch to the immense
pool beneath us, where it broke, with a deafening roar, into a gleaming
bank of soft silver haze. Surrounding the black rock rims of the pool,
the gloomy crimson of the forest closed in. The pool was a thousand
feet across. The whole scene was colossal; it was awe-inspiring and
impressive for the strangeness and intensity of its color.

There was no visible outlet for the silver liquid; so I knew that it
must find its way off underground. I knew that we must be far below
the level of the Silver Lake and the plain beyond. That fact may have
accounted for the more luxuriant growth of the red vegetation.

Suddenly Naro reported the discovery of the comparatively fresh print
of a hob-nailed boot in a little patch of mould on the rock. That set
us to looking again for traces of Austen, and presently we found a
fairly well-defined trail that led off to the east. We followed it
eagerly. When we had gone perhaps a mile we came to an outcropping seam
of coal. There I found the plain marks of a copper pick. Evidently a
good deal of coal had been dug up and carried off down the trail.




                               CHAPTER X

                           Austen's Retreat


Perhaps two hundred yards farther on we came to the camp. It was on a
little hilltop below a giant tree. By the trunk was a little mud-daubed
hut, with an open shed in front of it. By the shed was a rude clay
furnace, with piles of coal, some strange ore, and large lumps of
native copper lying by it. Beneath the shed was what appeared to be
a small steam turbine, with a kettle-like boiler of hammered copper.
Connected with it was a dynamo of crude but ingenious construction.
Also there was a rude forge, and hammers, anvils, saws and drills, all
of copper or bronze, and a device that I supposed had been used for
drawing wire.

Simple as it seemed, that camp of Austen's was perhaps the most
remarkable thing I came across in the crater. Austen was a wonderful
man. Having not only an exhaustive knowledge of a half dozen fields
of science--and he had not mere theories, but a practical, working
knowledge--he had also courage and determination, patience and manual
skill, and a great deal of resourcefulness and invention. While the
average man would hardly have been able to keep alive in the jungle,
Austen was able to do such things as smelt and refine ore, and set
up complicated and workable electrical machinery. Of course he was
fortunate in finding himself in a place where practically no effort
was needed to satisfy his physical needs, and where he found various
natural resources in available and easily accessible form. But I shall
never cease to wonder at his accomplishments of less than a year.

I was struck by a sudden fear that we had come too late, and that
something had happened to him. "Austen," I shouted, "Austen, are you
here?"

For answer, an old man whom I recognized joyfully as the old scientist
appeared in the rude doorway of the hut. His clothing was tattered
beyond description, and he looked very worn and thin. There were lines
of age and care about his wrinkled face. But his hair was neatly
brushed, and he had just been shaving, for his safety razor was in his
hand. A smile of astonishment and incredulous joy sprang over his face.
For a moment he was speechless. Then the old familiar voice called out
uncertainly, almost sobbing with joy.

"Winfield! Melvar! Naro! Can it really be you? At last!"

Then, as if he were a little ashamed of the feeling he had shown, he
pulled out his pipe and began to try to fill it, his fingers trembling
with emotion. But Melvar sprang to him and threw her arms about him in
a way that gave me a momentary pang of jealousy. He stuck the pipe back
in his pocket, grinning awkwardly, in a way that tightened the strings
of my heart.

"I forgot," he said. "My tobacco was all gone a week ago."

I shook his hand, and it clung to mine for a moment as if he were
seeking support. Then Naro placed his palm upon Austen's shoulder in
the customary greeting of Astran.

"I'd almost given up," the old man said. "The world is so far away
that it seems almost unreal. After I had sent the wireless call a few
times the devilish rustling in the sky got too close for comfort, and I
decided that the hissing red lights, whatever they are, were about to
locate me by the signals. So I quit that. But how did you come over?"

I told him briefly about the adventure with the red ship.

"Yes, I knew that the things were ships of some kind," he said when
I had finished. "I have been working on the quicksilver stuff, and
making a few exploring trips. I have discovered several things. I had
to work--to work endlessly--to keep going. Sometimes I got to feeling
pretty low. Then I would shave, and try to clean up like a civilized
man. And I kept repeating all the poetry I knew--that helped a lot. But
Lord--you haven't any idea how glad I am to see you.--By the way, did
you bring the spectroscope and tubes?"

By way of reply, I took off the pack that contained them. He began
to open it with as much enthusiasm as a small boy investigating a
Christmas present. Suddenly he paused and looked at us. "But you don't
look like you've had any holiday yourselves. What has happened to you?"

"Two or three things," I told him. "It hasn't been a holiday at all. Do
you happen to have any coffee left? I left mine in the tent outside the
cliffs."

"And how about a little hot Mulligan stew to go with it?" he grinned,
beckoning the way inside.

       *       *       *       *       *

                         The Scientist Speaks

So we went into the cabin. Most of the room seemed to be devoted to his
crude laboratory equipment. On one of his benches were several roughly
modeled pottery jars, filled with the liquid from the Silver Sea. His
bunk was in a screened off corner.

In a few minutes he had the coffee-pot boiling over a charcoal brazier.
I believe that aroma is about the most pleasant that ever reached my
nostrils. I was too much absorbed in it to do much talking, but Melvar
sat down on one of Austen's rustic stools and gave him an account of
our adventures.

When the coffee was done, Austen served a meal consisting in addition
of a great pot of steaming soup made of the yellow fruits cooked with
the tender roots of the red plants. That stands out in my memory as one
of the truly magnificent repasts that have ever been laid before me.
When we had finished Melvar retired to Austen's bunk, and Naro and I
lay down on a blanket on the laboratory floor. I went to sleep at once,
and, if I may credit the word of our host, slept for thirty-seven and a
half hours. Although I am inclined to believe that is an exaggeration.

At any rate, when I got up, I felt a new man. Austen had set up the
apparatus we brought. He had a test tube full of the silver liquid set
up in a beam of X-rays, and the spectroscope in position to examine the
dense purple gas that was rising from the stuff.

"How is it coming?" I asked him.

He shook his head sadly. "I don't know," he said. "I have a theory, but
it doesn't seem to work out right. The key is in sight but it always
eludes me. There is energy stored in the silver liquid. It may be that
that amazing thing in the sky stores the energy of sunlight in the
stuff. You know that the energy in sunlight amounts to something over
one horsepower for each square yard on which it falls. Or perhaps the
atomic energy of the gases in the air is released. It seems impossible
to find the key, although I have been able to analyze the stuff pretty
accurately. If I had it I could make the silver stuff go off like ten
times its weight of T.N.T."

"Do you think," I asked him eagerly, "that you could set off some of it
and wipe out the _Krimlu_?"

"Winfield," the old scientist soberly replied, "even if you could,
would you wipe out a whole civilization--a science so high as that
which made the Silver Lake--a culture equal to, if not above, that of
our own world?"

"If you had seen those purple things--men and women that are old and
hideous, and fearfully strong and malignant--you couldn't move too
quickly to blot them off the earth," I cried.

"I have seen," he said seriously. "I have seen the purple monsters, and
they are terrible enough. But they are not the masters. They are but
the servants, or perhaps I should say the machines, of a higher power.
I told you that I had been exploring a bit. I have seen some strange
things.

"There is another form of intelligence here, Winfield. A form of life
unrelated to humanity, without any sympathy for mankind, for any share
of human feelings. Perhaps it is a danger to the human race. The things
would not hesitate, I suppose, to use all humanity as they have used
the people of _Astran_. But that does not solve the problem. Would it
be right to wipe them out? Perhaps it would be better for mankind to go
under. Perhaps they are superior to us. The purposes of the creation
of intelligent life might be better met by these things than by man. I
have given it a great deal of thought, and I can't decide."

He fell silent and presently I said, "You say there is another form of
life here. What is it like?"

"You will know soon enough. I wish I had never seen. It is not a good
thing to talk about. There is no use for me to tell you."

       *       *       *       *       *

                   The Chasm of the Strange Machine

He would tell me no more. Presently I left him and went down to bathe
in the stream of water that flowed back of the camp. The water was
sluggish and tepid, certainly not invigorating, but it was cleansing.
When I got back Melvar and Naro were up. The girl had been very glad to
see Austen again. She was talking with him, very vivacious, and very
beautiful. When I saw her, I loved her, if possible more than ever.

As soon as we had eaten, Austen began to dismount the spectrometer
and other equipment, and to pack them. "I can go no farther with the
experiments here," he said. "I am going to take the outfit to a place
where we can see one of the engines of the _Krimlu_, where the silver
liquid is broken up. There I may be able to get the clue I need."

In an hour we were ready to depart. Austen led the way, silent and
preoccupied with the details of his work. We went down a narrow trail
through the stagnating marshes, in the eldritch gloom of the weird red
jungle, under the dull purple mist. For many hours we were on the way,
until the purple dusk began to thicken, and a distant sighing whistle
told us that night had fallen, and that the evil masters were abroad
again.

Suddenly Austen called out in a guarded tone for us to halt. We all
crept forward cautiously until we could see over the brink of a vast
circular chasm. Sheer black walls, ringed by the red jungle, fell for a
thousand feet. The round floor was a half mile across. Upon it was the
most gigantic and amazing mechanical device I have ever seen. The thing
was incredibly huge, and throbbing with strange energy. It made little
sound, but the space about us seemed vibrant with power.

In the center of the pit was a titanic, shining green cylinder,
perhaps a hundred feet in diameter and five hundred in length. A river
of gleaming silver fluid ran from an opening in the rock, through a
great open aqueduct, and poured into the cylinder in the middle of the
upperside. At each end of the colossal cylinder rose a metal tower. At
the top of each tower was a fifty-foot globe of blue crystal, slowly
turning. Between and above the spheres arched a high-flung span of
white fire--a great pulsing sheet of milky opalescent light--that
roared and crackled like a powerful electric discharge, and lit the
chasm with an unearthly radiance.

Toward the farther side of the floor was a second enormous machine,
apparently unconnected with the first, resembling a vast telescope.
The white metal tube was a full two hundred feet in length, mounted on
massive metal supports. It did not seem to be in action. The barrel of
it was pointing at the sky, like a telescope, or a cannon.

Then I saw a row of openings low down in the side of the vast green
cylinder, with shafts of bright green light pouring from them. And I
saw tiny human figures working feverishly about them. They had escaped
my observation at first, so far away was the floor of the pit. Now I
saw that they were taking great blocks of a luminous green substance
from the doors in the cylinder and carrying them to the tube that was
pointing at the sky.

I saw now that the bodies of the toilers were purple. There was
something in their motion that reminded me of ants. I was amazed at
their strength and agility, at their ceaseless, machine-like activity.
They never looked about, never paused, never rested. They were like
machines, or animated corpses, driven to endless toil by some strange
force. I remembered the time I had splashed the white fluid on my arm,
turning it purple, and the strange excitement of my nerves. At once I
linked up the raids on _Astran_, the bracelet that Naro had found on
the dead purple beast, and what Austen had told me of superior beings
who enslaved the purple things. I knew that I looked upon the captured
men and women of _Astran_, simply _man-machines_ in this strange place!

Perhaps they were already dead. Certainly they moved, not by their own
volition, but by a stronger mechanical power. They must have been
under the absolute hypnotic control of the higher intelligences, who
treated their unfortunate captives, perhaps with the argent liquid, to
convert them into unearthly machines, of super-human strength.

We turned away into the night that had fallen on the red jungle while
we watched. I was sick with horror. Austen's face was white and his
hands were trembling. There was a stern, fierce light in his eye.
Now I knew, in spite of what he had said, that were the opportunity
given him, he would not hesitate to wipe out the masters of the
purple slaves. He said nothing, but his hands worked spasmodically,
he muttered under his breath, and his dark eyes snapped with angry
determination.

In a few minutes we set about preparing the apparatus for the work of
the night. The spectroscope was set up, with telescopic condensers, to
collect and analyze the radiation of the arch of crackling milky flame.
We took care to screen ourselves in the jungle fringe, and to expose
no more of the equipment to the sight of the beings below than was
necessary. Austen had his drawing board set up in a convenient place
behind our shelter, and he alternately peered through the telescope at
the spectrum, and turned to make intricate calculation in the light of
a shaded flashlight. We sat up all night at the work.

All night long the white flame played between the spinning blue crystal
spheres above the vast green cylinder, filling the air with its ghostly
crackle and whisper. All night long the tireless purple human machines
toiled in the pit, carrying the great green blocks, and evidently
stacking them in the vast cannon-like tube at the side. Whenever
Austen did not need me with the analysis, I spent the time searching
that amazing scene, but not once did I catch a glimpse of anything
that might have been the directing intelligence of all that marvelous
activity.

Melvar had been very tired, and I had contrived a hammock for her from
a great sheet of fibrous bark torn from the trunk of one of the red
trees. She spent the night asleep in that, while Austen and I carried
on the work, and Naro, not having scientific inclinations, contented
himself with a couch composed of a few feathery branches torn from the
undergrowth.




                              CHAPTER XI

                       What the Analysis Showed


Just before daylight Austen completed his calculations, and stated the
result. He was very tired, and his eyes were red. He had worked for a
day and two nights since we had found him. He gave his conclusion in a
colorless monotone.

"You know," he said, "that there are several rare gases in the air, in
addition to oxygen and nitrogen. The inert gas argon comprises nearly
one per cent of the atmosphere, and there are, in addition, smaller
quantities of helium, neon, xenon, and krypton, not to mention the
carbon dioxide and water vapor. Those gases are monatomic and do not
ordinarily enter into any compounds at all.

"You know that lightning in the air causes a union of nitrogen and
oxygen, to form nitrous and nitric acids, which may later release
their energy in the explosion of gun powder or nitroglycerine. In
much the same way the force that forms the silver fluid utilizes
the photochemical effect of sunlight to build up a complex molecule
containing oxygen, nitrogen, and the inert gases of the helium group.
It is very unstable, and may be disrupted with the release of a great
amount of energy. I was able to detect the characteristic lines of
most of the gases in the luminous spectrum of the purple gas, but not
until I had analyzed the light of the opalescent flame, and made my
deductions from that, was I able to derive the equations and arrive at
the precise structural formula, and at the exact wave length necessary
to break down the molecule."

He proceeded to launch into a detailed technical discussion of the
process of analysis he had used, and of the methods of inductive
reasoning by which he had arrived at his conclusion. It was rather deep
for me, and I am afraid some of the salient points have already slipped
my mind. But I doubt that the general reader would be interested in it
anyhow.

Something more important was on my mind. "Have you found out enough?" I
asked. "Can you blow up the stuff? Can you wipe out the _Krimlu_?"

"I am not sure," he said, "but I think, if I could get at that machine
with a little of my equipment I could manipulate it to make it go
off like a thousand tons of dynamite. The silver stuff runs into the
cylinder and is converted into pure vibrant energy. If I could just
speed up the process a bit!

"The _Krimlu_ seem to live underground like ants. A month ago I found
an opening into their world near the cliffs, south of the fall. There
are the shafts where their ships come out, ventilator tubes, and
funnels for the purple smoke from their engines. I will go down one of
the shafts and see what can be done."

"You mean we will go," I told him. "You don't think--"

"There is no need for you to risk your life," he said in a voice
purposely brusque to hide his emotion. "I can do as much by myself.
Then there is Melvar. We must get her out of here if we can. I think
a great deal of her. If we both should go--and not come back--. No, I
want you to stay on top. I know I can trust you to treat her fairly. If
I can blast down the earth on their underground world, we might be able
to make it back around the Silver Sea, and eventually to the outside."

"You can trust me, sir, to care for her to the best of my ability," I
told him, looking at the sandal on my right foot, and trying, without
notable success, to keep my voice even and casual.

"Really," he cried, looking at me intensely, "do you love her?"

       *       *       *       *       *

                             A Declaration

I admitted that I did, even using, as I remember the occasion, rather
an enthusiastic, if hackneyed phrase to describe my feeling.

"I had hoped so," Austen said. "She and you are the dearest ones to me
in the world. If you were out and safe, I could--go--in peace."

The rude hammock in which Melvar had been lying sprang into violent
motion and erupted her slender, beautiful figure. She came running
toward me. "I am sorry," she gasped. "No, I mean I am glad. I was
awake, Winfield. I heard you--" Her further statements were not
particularly coherent, since she was kissing me, and I was holding her
in my arms and returning the gesture. I gathered on the whole that my
feelings for her were well reciprocated. Some minutes later, when I
came back to earth, I observed that Austen was taking the equipment
down, and that Naro was standing and looking at us with an expression
of extreme and comical disgust on his frank and boyish face.

By that time it was light, and soon, by the brightening of the purple
haze above, we knew that the sun was rising. I saw that Austen was
looking into the pit. Melvar and I walked to the edge. The great metal
tube, which the purple beings had been all night in loading with the
green bars, was being swung slowly about upon its mounting, until
presently it was pointing at the sky above the Silver Sea.

For a moment nothing happened; then a low, deep, humming drone reached
our ears, coming apparently from the complex machinery at the base of
the tube. Steadily the sound rose in pitch, until it was an intolerably
high and painful scream. Suddenly, when the high rhythm of it had
become unsupportable, we ceased to hear it; but I knew that it had
merely passed up the scale beyond the range of our ears, and was
sounding still.

Abruptly the colossal tube seemed to flash into green incandescence and
a broad beam of yellow light, blindingly brilliant, and pulsing with
strange energy, poured up into the dusky purple sky. Then I knew that
it was this machine that made the amazing thing above the Silver Sea,
from which the white liquid fell.

As we watched, bright patches of red and green shot up the beam. Slowly
the bright yellow faded from the ray, but still the green luminosity
clung about the tube, and still I felt that the flood of radiant,
purposeful energy was flowing up into the sky. It was not long before I
heard, far above us, in the distant west beyond the red-clad hill, the
splash of the first great drop of silver into the argent lake. Below us
the white torrent was still pouring into the vast green cylinder, the
white fire was still arching between the crystal globes, and the purple
slaves were still rushing about the pit with feverish and machine-like
energy.

We turned away from the place and walked back into the terrible and
weird semi-darkness of the scarlet jungle, still beneath the shadow of
the evil intelligence that ruled the crater. I had the knowledge of
Melvar's love, and the bright charm of her nearness, but I felt the
unholy power of the jungle already closing about to crush us.

We reached the camp long before night, and Austen and I went to sleep.
The old scientist was up again at daylight. I was amazed at his energy
and vitality. He got ready the equipment he intended to take, as we
were soon ready to set out for the entrance of the underworld. Austen
insisted that we leave Melvar and Naro behind. There was no use, he
said, to expose them to the hardships and dangers of the journey, and
it seemed that no harm would be likely to come to them at the cabin.
Then, without them, we could travel faster and with less danger of
detection. I did not like to leave Melvar, but she was very courageous
about it, smiling through her tears. It always takes more courage in
those who stay behind and wait than for those who have the lure of
mystery and adventure to beckon them on.

Melvar walked with me to the edge of the clearing, and there we left
her, taking a dim trail that led through the dense jungle to the south.
Austen was saying nothing. He was lost in meditation. But I knew that
when the time came for action, he would lose no time in thought. But
how could I guess the noble thoughts that were passing in his mind?
How could I realize that he was marching willingly to his doom? For my
part, I was thinking of the wonderful girl I had left at the cabin. I
thought, too, of the horror of the lights that haunted _Astran_, and of
the horror that would be if the lights ever went beyond the rim--into
the outer world.

After several hours Austen stopped. "It is not a half mile to the
shafts," he said. "We shall have to make a rope. I have made cords from
the tough bark of the red trees. That does very well. I want to reach
the bottom of the pit before night. But I have reason to think that the
things are active in their underworld at all hours of the day, emerging
only at night because the magnetic vibration of sunlight interferes
with the operation of the delicate machinery of their bodies." Of that,
I came to a better understanding later.

We began to weave a rope of strips of leather-like like bark torn from
the mighty red trees. We kept at it until we had many hundred feet
of the tough strands. As we worked Austen began to talk a little,
in a voice that was very low, and a little husky, of his boyhood on
a Western farm, and of the bright spots of his life. He told a few
stories of his school and college days, and of the girl he had loved
and lost. But when the rope was finished and coiled, he fell silent
again, and grimly examined his automatic. He adjusted his pack, got
out his pipe and filled it with my tobacco, and grinned. Then he said
soberly, "We are here. We are ready to play our hand, to win or to
lose. And if we lose--"

He thrust out his hand. I shook it and we walked on silently. We had
now gone more than a hundred yards when the scarlet forest thinned,
and we walked out on a level stretch of bare white sand. The clear
space was perhaps a mile long and half as wide. Along the western
side rose a dark precipitous cliff, like that over which the silver
fall plunged, with a line of red brush along the top. At the foot was
a great sloping bank of talus, scattered with gigantic boulders. The
cliff and the lofty crimson forest that rimmed the open space on the
other three sides, seemed to reach into the dusky purple of obscurity
of the low-hanging sky.

Spaced irregularly about the center of the flat were perhaps a dozen
low circular metal structures--evidently the mouths of great white
metal tubes projecting from the earth. From five of them dense clouds
of purple vapor were pouring.

       *       *       *       *       *

                             The Sacrifice

We left the shelter of the jungle and quickly approached the nearest
of the wells. The metal curbing was about four feet high, around a
circular pit some 20 feet in diameter. We leaned over and looked into
it. The tube was lit faintly for a few feet down the walls, but we saw
no light toward the bottom of the tube. A faint humming sound came up
out of the darkness, and I felt a strong current of air flowing down
the tube. It was altogether stranger and more terrible than I had
anticipated. I doubt that I could have found the courage to descend.

"Is the rope long enough?" I whispered.

"Yes," he replied in a cautious undertone. "On the day I discovered the
place I dropped a pebble in the well and timed its fall with my watch.
The depth is just over five hundred feet."

I put the end of the cord over the metal rim and paid it out until
only enough was left to hitch around my body. With a smile of forced
cheerfulness, Austen looked to his pack, knocked out the pipe, and put
it in his pocket.

"Winfield, my boy, I hope to see you soon again," he said. "It may take
only an hour or two to lay my mine and return to the shaft. But of
course I know nothing of what I am to encounter. You wait and hold the
rope, and if I need to send you any message I will jerk it three times,
and you can pull it up. The note will tell when to put it down again
for me to climb out. Good-by, my boy. You--"

He started to say something more, but his voice broke, and he turned
abruptly to the well. I braced myself against the curbing, and he
climbed over and started down. I looked over and watched him. In a few
moments his head and shoulders had shrunk to a little blot against the
darkness of the well. Soon he was out of my sight, although for a long
time I felt the tugging of the rope. Suddenly the tension relaxed. He
had reached the bottom, or--fearful thought!--he had lost his grip on
the rope and was hurtling downward through the darkness. I listened in
an agony of suspense. It was several minutes before I was reassured to
feel three twitches of the cord. I pulled it up. On the end was tied a
piece of paper, with these words penciled upon it:

    "Dear Winfield, I hate to leave us thus, without telling you, as I
    intend to do. But I could not tell you. Go back, get Melvar, and
    travel as far as you can from this accursed place. May you and she
    survive and lead a happy life together, in here if you cannot reach
    the world beyond.

    "I will give you twenty hours. In that time you can go far north of
    the silver fall. I am sure, with the equipment I have with me, I
    can explode one of the engines and send all this part of the valley
    skyward--if I live to carry out my plan. Good-by,

                                                               Austen."

Then I saw that he had been planning all along to give up his life. The
note had been written some time before he left. I cursed the stupidity
that had kept me from perceiving his intention. If I had but thought,
I would have known it was impossible for the aged scientist to climb
the rope from the bottom of the pit. Dear old Austen! The truest friend
I ever had! His wrinkled, smiling face, his kind blue eyes, his low
familiar voice, are gone forever!




                              CHAPTER XII

                           The Forest Aflame


I have a very confused recollection of what happened immediately
afterward. My own actions seem a vague, disordered dream. My bitter
grief at Austen's self-sacrifice was the only thing real to me. I
believe I began carrying rocks from the boulder-strewn slope at the
foot of the cliff, with the idea of securing the rope to them so I
could go down in search for him. But my memory of that is very faint.

The first thing I remember clearly is that I was staggering back to
the shaft with a heavy rock in my arms, when I caught a whiff of
acrid smoke and awoke to the realization that the purple sky was
darkened with drifting clouds, and the air was already heavy with the
suffocating pungent odor of the burning red vegetation. My instinctive
alarm at the thought of fire served to bring me to myself, and I was
suddenly fearful for the safety of Melvar.

I knew that, had the red-hot rocket-ship in which we had crossed the
Silver Sea chanced to fall in the jungle instead of on the barren
hilltop, a conflagration would have spread from it at once. Abruptly
I remembered that the glowing fragments of the one we had wrecked had
fallen in the northern forest. Austen's cabin lay in that direction!
I knew that the red vegetation was peculiarly inflammable, and that
the fire fed on the oxygen of the heavy atmosphere, would advance with
terrible speed.

For a moment, in a panic of indecision, I listened. From the north I
heard the crackling roar of a mighty conflagration. Then my mind was
made up. Any attempt to find Austen and induce him to give up his plan
of self-sacrifice would be terribly uncertain. Melvar was in immediate
danger, and I knew that Austen valued her life above his own. But even
then, I knew in my heart that it was too late, though I would not let
myself believe it. Fire is a pitiless and remorseless enemy.

At a dead run I started up the trail by which we had entered the
clearing. Ever the smoke became thicker and more acrid, while the
crackling roar of the fire rang ever louder in my ears. I ran on
through the ghastly gloom of the scarlet jungle, in mad desperation,
even after hope was gone, until the hot suffocating breath of the
flames was choking me, until the bright lurid curtain of the fire was
spread before my eyes, and the intense heat radiation blistered my
skin. The vast wall of flame swept forward like a voracious demoniac
thing of crimson, implacable, irresistible, overwhelming. It plunged
forward like a rushing tidal wave of red. _Already the fire had passed
the site of the cabin!_

I was suddenly hopeless, and despairing, and very tired. The flames
rushed forward faster, by far, than a human being could force a way
through the jungle. With the knowledge that I had just lost the only
two beings that in all the world of men ever mattered to me, it hardly
seemed worth while to try to save my own life. For a moment I stood
there, about to cast myself into the flames. But it is not the nature
of an animal to die willingly, no matter how slight the promise of life
may be.

When I could endure the heat no longer, when the pain of my blistered
skin, and the outcries of my tortured lungs had grown unsupportable, I
turned and ran toward the clearing again. Behind me, the flames roared
like a lightning express. The fern-like fronds burned explosively, like
gun-cotton. My nostrils and lungs were seared and smarting. The hot
wind dried my skin and left it scorched and cracked. I was blinded by
the smoke. I longed to throw myself down and seek the temporary ecstasy
of a breath of clear air from near the ground, of a cooling plunge into
a muddy pool. The red jungle reeled about me, but I fought my way on,
like a man in a dream.

At last I staggered into the open space. The last of the giant trees
exploded into flames not a score of yards behind me. Sparks rained upon
me. My clothing caught fire. I ran on, fighting at it with my hands.
The jungle back of me roared deafeningly, an angry, surging sea of
lurid red flames, awful, overwhelming, fantastically terrible. Heat
radiation poured across the clearing in a pitiless beam. I struggled on
across the white sand, away from flames that tossed themselves up like
volcano-ridden ranges of scarlet alps, until I reached the shelter of a
great boulder on the slope below the cliff.

I flung myself down behind the rock, gulping down the cool air and
rubbing out the fire in my clothing with my blackened hands. For many
hours I lay there, tortured by thirst and pain. At last I fell into a
light sleep of troubled dreams, in which huge, winged, green ants flew
after me through burning crimson forests and in which I saw the dear
form of Melvar devoured again and again by the flames.

I was awakened, after a time, I know not how long, by a cool wind that
had sprung up from the north. For a moment my mind was lost in blank
wonder, and then came the desolate memory that Melvar and Austen were
lost. In hopeless misery I got weakly to my feet and walked unsteadily
around the boulder until I could look across the clearing.

As I leaned against the rock, gazing eastward, it was a strangely
altered and desolate scene that lay before my eyes. The red forest
was gone. Below me was a region of low rolling hills, black and grim
beneath the lowering, smoky purple sky. The white sand about me stood
out in sharp contrast to the charred and gloomy waste beyond, from
which a few slender wisps of dark smoke were still rising. All life was
gone. It was a dead world. But still the dense purple clouds poured out
of the shafts of the underworld, adding their weight to the dismal sky.

A great homesickness for the world, and my fellow men came over me.
Then I heard a strange humming behind me, and a slight metallic
clatter. I turned around in apathetic curiosity.

       *       *       *       *       *

                            A Strange Duel

And I came face to face with a monster so utterly strange and weirdly
terrible that the very shock of it almost unseated my wandering reason.
But so completely had my interests and hopes in life been severed, so
near was I to the great divide of death, that I was past emotion of any
kind. At first I looked on the thing with a curious lack of interest,
as the soul of one newly dead might look with numbed faculties on his
new habitation. But as I looked upon it, an icy current of fear stole
over me like the creeping cold of the north, and clasped me to its
frozen breast. I had met so many horrors that I had begun to think
myself immune to terror. But I had met no such thing as that.

I knew that it was an intelligent, a sentient being. But it was not
human, not a thing of flesh and blood at all. It was a machine!
Or, rather, it was in a machine, for I felt far more of it than I
saw--a will, a cold and alien intellect, a being, malefic, inhuman,
inscrutable. It was a thing that belonged, not in the present earth,
but in the tomb of the unthinkable past, or beyond the wastes of
interstellar space, amid the inconceivable horrors of unknown spheres.

There was a bright, gleaming globe, three feet in diameter, lit
with vivid flowing fires of violet and green. A strange swirling
mist of brilliant points of many colored lights danced madly about
it--a coruscating fog of iridescent fire--moving, flickering, in an
incredible rhythm.

That unearthly thing rested upon a frame of metal. It was the head of a
metallic monster. It was set on an oblong box of white metal, to which
were attached six long-jointed metal limbs. The being stood nine feet
high, at least. It was standing on three of the limbs and holding my
rifle, which I had left where I had been lying, turning it and feeling
of it with a cluster of slender, finger-like tentacles on the end of
the metal arm. It was working the mechanism of the gun, and apparently
looking at it, though it had no eyes that I could see.

Suddenly the gun went off, throwing up the sand between me and the
monster. With a grotesquely half-human attitude of alarmed surprise,
the being dropped the gun and sprang back like a gigantic spider. The
motion freed me from my paralysis of horror, and I started backing
cautiously around the boulder, afraid to run. As I moved it sprang
forward and a slender tube of white metal, in one of the tentacled
hands, was suddenly pointed toward me. As the monster moved, there was
a humming sound from it, and little jets of purple gas hissed from
holes in the sides of the box-like body.

I drew my automatic and fired at the metal tube. I must have made an
unusually fortunate shot, for the object was carried out of the metal
grasp, and fell spinning on the sand. On the instant, I turned and ran
toward another great boulder, as large as a railroad locomotive, that
lay fifty yards to the north. As I ran I heard the clatter and whirring
of the mechanical being. I paused at the edge of the rock and took a
last glimpse back.

The monster was holding the little tube in one of its limbs, and
apparently adjusting it with another. Then it suddenly extended the
thing toward me. I dived behind the rock. And a bright ray of orange
light shot past the boulder--a beam like that which had come from the
being in the door of the rocket-ship. Then I knew that here was an
entity of the same kind as the one I had destroyed that night--one of
the ruling intelligences of the crater, the _Krimlu_.

For several minutes I crouched behind the boulder, expecting the
terrible being to come striding around after me at any instant; but it
did not come, so presently I began to think. Perhaps the things were
not so powerful, or so extremely intelligent after all. I had killed
one, even if it was just by a chance shot in the dark. This one had
seemed surprised and alarmed when the rifle went off, and I supposed
that a being so intelligent as I had at first thought it to be might
have inferred the nature and use of the weapon from its appearance.
And I thought that it must be afraid of me, after my pistol bullet had
knocked its own weapon out of its grip, or it would have followed me
around the boulder. Then I began to wonder what it was going to do.

It evidently intended to strike me with the ray weapon. And not only
did it respect me, but it knew that I stood in deathly fear of it. It
knew that I was trying to escape, so it might reasonably expect me
to leave the unscalable cliff and attempt a break against the open
country. And if I were to do that, I would naturally keep in the
shelter of my own boulder as long as possible. If the monster thought
in that way, the logical thing for it to do would be to creep out of
the upper side of its rock, where I would inevitably come into its
sight by whatever direction I left my breastwork.

Of course there was a frightful risk in taking any action on such a
hypothesis--a greater risk than I realized at the time. If the monster
were less intelligent than I supposed, I might blunder on it; if it
were more intelligent, it might have anticipated my plan--might be
waiting to trap me.

But I crawled out along the upper side of my boulder and peered over a
smaller rock which would serve me as a breastwork, my automatic ready.
I expected to see the creature in my range, and itself intent upon my
other lines of retreat. But it was not there. For a moment I thought I
was doomed, but the orange ray did not strike, and I was forced to the
conclusion that the monster was not in a position for action at all.

For a moment I was tempted to precipitate flight across the clearing,
but I knew that such a move would put me at the mercy of the ray, and
I thought that it might not yet be too late to carry out my original
plan. I lay flat, with the gun trained on the spot where I expected it
to appear. For perhaps fifteen minutes nothing happened; then it proved
that my hypothesis was justified. The weird being suddenly sprang into
view, with the strange weapon grasped in its glittering arm. It seemed
to be looking beyond my boulder. I was lying ready, with the automatic
leveled. It was a matter of the merest instant to aim at the green
sphere and pull the trigger.

The globe was shattered as if it had been made of glass. The glittering
fragments showered off the metal box, while the whole mechanical body
suddenly became very rigid, and fell heavily to the side. A puff of
coruscating green mist floated out of the globe as it broke, and
swiftly dissipated, and the sparkling lights were about the thing no
more. The monster was evidently dead.

For a few moments I hesitated, but I was sure the thing had been
killed, and my curiosity got the better of my fear. I cautiously
approached it. For a moment I marveled at the wonderful workmanship of
the machine and at the cleverness of its design; then I saw something
that made me forget all else. Something beside the crystal shell had
fallen.

The tissue of it was very delicate, and it had been broken by the
fall, so that the body juices were running from it. The brain cavity
of it was very large--perhaps larger than that of a man--covered only
with a thin chitinous shell. The limbs were but thin tentacles, almost
altogether atrophied. In fact, the brain seemed three-fourths of the
total bulk. The body was so badly smashed that I could tell little
about it, but the tiny limbs were covered with chitin, and there were
the rudimentary stumps of fine, tissue-like wings. There were no
visible traces of digestive organs, or of mandibles.

The thing was plainly an insect. From just what species it had sprung
in the long process of evolution in the crater it would be difficult to
say. For several reasons, I believe it was an ant. At any rate, it had
reached about the ultimate stage of evolution. Machines had altogether
replaced bodies of flesh and blood. I believe the thing had been
nourished by the sparkling green vapor, which must have circulated like
blood through the protecting crystal sphere.

It seems incredible to find great intelligence in any form of life
other than human; but science thinks that life and intelligence must
rise and fall in recurring cycles, and that the earth has probably been
ruled by many different forms of life, each of which has been blotted
out by some cataclysm. The _Krimlu_ were a surviving remnant of archaic
ages.




                             CHAPTER XIII

                          When Austen Struck


I lost little time in the examination of the dead creature. The shafts
from which it had come were but a few hundred yards below, and the
purple gas was still rolling out of the funnels. I did not know when a
second monster might follow the first. My mind was too much upset by
grief and terror to be capable of intelligent planning, but I knew I
wanted to get away from here, and I think I had some notion of reaching
the northern pass, and of getting back to an unburned growth of the red
vegetation, for I was weak with thirst and hunger. But all that was
very vague.

I walked around the wells, keeping at a distance; and struck out for
the east as fast as my wearied limbs could carry me. Soon the cliff was
out of sight. All about was the desolate, rolling black landscape, with
the gloomy purple sky overhead. My thoughts were as dark and sere as
the world. Memories of dear old Austen and of lovely Melvar were always
with me, even when I tried to banish them and to think rationally of my
position.

When I had gone perhaps three hours from the cliff, and had almost lost
my fear of pursuit, I saw a great cigar-shaped object of gleaming white
on a low hill before me. So dulled were my perceptions that it was many
minutes before I realized that it was the rocket-ship in which we had
come over the Silver Sea. Then, bringing a faint thrill of hope, the
thought came to me that it was still probably in a condition to fly,
and that, if I could succeed in controlling it, it offered a possible
avenue of escape from the crater.

I walked up to the thick metal walls. They seemed undamaged by the
fire. Of course, they were used to withstanding the far higher
temperatures developed during flight. I walked around the ship, and was
surprised to see that the heavy metal door, which we had left open,
had been swung shut. Lying against it was the charred skeleton of a
man. About the bones were woven metal garments and crystal armor that
I recognized with a shock as Naro's. So, I thought, the fellow had
deserted his beautiful sister to seek the shelter of the rocket-ship,
and had fallen a victim to the flames at the last moment.

For a moment, I stared grimly at the remains; then, animated by a
sudden ray of hope, I sprang to the door, pulled it open, and leaped
into the ship. There, lying on the floor, was the lovely form of
Melvar. Her clothing was tattered and smeared with stains of red and
black from the burning forest, but she was unharmed. It was almost
incredible to me to find her restored. I was half afraid that my mind
had failed at last, and that she was but an illusion. I dropped on my
knees beside her, and kissed her warm red lips. She stirred a little
and, still but half awake, put a trustful arm about my shoulder.

"Winfield, I knew you would come," she whispered at last. "But where
are Naro and Austen?"

"They will never come," I said.

She drew me fiercely toward her, as if to use me for a shield against
the awful truth. It was some time before she was able to talk; but
presently she told me how Naro had seen the smoke, and how she had
thought of seeking shelter from the fire in the rocket-ship. They had
run down the trail we had made as they left the ship. The fire had
overtaken them just as they reached it. The boy had carried her the
last few yards, had put her through the door, and then had been unable
to enter himself. But, a hero to the last, a worthy warrior of old
_Astran_, he had swung the door shut with his dying motion.

Presently I turned my attention to the ship. The marvelous periscope
still gave the illusion that the bow was transparent. When I moved the
little control lever, the jets of purple gas rushed out again. After a
time I had the vessel worked loose from its place in the earth. Then,
once again, I pulled up the little metal knob and pushed it forward.

The blackened terrain was colored by the purple mist. It was dimmed,
blurred, blotted out. We shot through the purple cloud and abruptly
plunged into clear air and blessed sunshine. Melvar stood by me, with
her arm upon my shoulder. She cried out gladly as we came into the
light. It was not quite noon and the sun was shining very brightly into
the crater. The crescent Silver Lake was still gleaming with the same
argent luster, and _Astran_ shone like a great gem set in the dark red
upland beyond.

Suddenly the clouds of purple mist below were thrown up and scattered
in a thousand ragged streamers. A great blaze of opalescence burst out
where it had been. A flood of fire ran over the Silver Sea. It was
a white, milky light like that we had seen between the blue crystal
globes of the great machine in the chasm. In a moment the whole crater
was a torn and angry ocean of iridescent flame. The red upland was
blotted out, and _Astran_ vanished forever. White flames that were like
the tongues of burning hydrogen that burst from exploding suns, flared
up behind us.

Then we heard the sound of the cataclysm--a crashing roar like the
thunder of a thousand falling mountains, as deep, as vast, as awful, as
the crash of colliding worlds. At the same instant we felt the force of
the greatest explosion that has ever occurred on earth. The rocket shot
upward as though shot out of a mighty cannon. The blue sky darkened
about us, and the stars flamed out like a million scintillating gems,
in incredible myriads, gleaming cold and hard against the infinite
empty blackness. We had been hurled out of the atmosphere and into
interplanetary space!

Austen had struck! The world of the _Krimlu_ was no more! The whole
Silver Sea had gone off in a great explosion. From our ever-rising
craft we could see the desert spread out around the mountain like a
vast yellow sea, rimmed on the south by a steely blue line that was
the ocean. The white fire dulled, faded, and was gone as quickly as it
had flashed up. The crater of the Mountain of the Moon was left a wild
black ruin of jagged, scattered masses of smoking stone. Of the Silver
Lake, of the red vegetation upon the upland, of brilliant _Astran_, not
a trace was left!

The crater was left far behind in the long arching flight of the
rocket. The white frozen brilliance of the stars faded out, the untold
glories of the solar corona were dimmed, and blue was restored to the
midnight sky. We were plunging toward the desert in the direction of
Kanowna. I pulled back the lever and used the full force of the rockets
to check our meteor-like flight until the fuel was exhausted. A moment
afterward we struck the earth.

We climbed out and left the vessel there on the sand. Just as the stars
were coming out that night we arrived at the headquarters of a great
sheep ranch. People were very much excited over the earthquake. (The
shock of the explosion of the Silver Lake had been registered at every
seismographic station in the world.)

The rancher and his wife cared for us with great hospitality, if
ill-controlled curiosity. After we had had a week of rest, they took
us by automobile to Kanowna. There I astounded them by rewarding their
generosity with a magnificent emerald--I still had in my pack a half
pound or so of jewels that Naro had brought me from _Astran_.

Melvar ever surprised me with her innocent beauty, her grace and poise,
with the ease with which she learned to face new situations, and to
meet people. I believe that no one ever suspected that she had not
had a lifetime of training in the best of society. We were married at
Kanowna, and reached Perth a few days later.


                                The End





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