The Buried World

CHAPTER I. THE SECRET OF WIDGERY DENE
CHAPTER II. BOUND FOR THE PACIFIC
CHAPTER III. THE FLYING SUBMARINE
CHAPTER IV. A DESPERATE TEST
CHAPTER V. ON THE BED OF THE OCEAN
CHAPTER VI. MONSTERS OF THE DEEP
CHAPTER VII. A CHANCE OF ESCAPE
CHAPTER VIII. THE KRU PEOPLE
CHAPTER IX. WONDERS OF THE UNDERWORLD
CHAPTER X. THE SEARCH FOR THE SUBMARINE
CHAPTER XI. BEHIND THE IDOL
CHAPTER XII. THE SUBMARINE FOUND
CHAPTER XIII. IN THE GRIP OF A GIANT
CHAPTER XIV. FOILING THE FALTA
CHAPTER XV. SCALDING RAIN
CHAPTER XVI. THE FALL OF THE IDOL
CHAPTER XVII. CAPTURED BY THE KRU
CHAPTER XVIII. PREPARING FOR THE RESCUE
CHAPTER XIX. THE MYSTERY GAS
CHAPTER XX. THE KRU ATTACK
CHAPTER XXI. THE CONE OF FIRE
CHAPTER XXII. THE PILLAR OF FLAME
CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE UNKNOWN'S PRESENCE
CHAPTER XXIV. THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED
CHAPTER XXV. THE LIFE-GIVING FIRE
CHAPTER XXVI. "YOU MUST DIE!"
CHAPTER XXVII. MORE MAGIC
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE LAST OF "HE"
CHAPTER XXIX. THE RETURN JOURNEY
CHAPTER XXX. CRIPPS' VOW
CHAPTER XXXI. GOOD NEWS
CHAPTER XXXII. HOMEWARD BOUND
CHAPTER XXXIII. RE-UNITED

JIM MAITLAND sat curled up luxuriously in front of the kitchen fire immersed in the book he was reading. After the Latin and mathematical works in which he had kept his nose steadily for the past year, it was a great relief to read a good rattling adventure story again; for the nightmare of the London Matric was over now, and the grammar school, where he had won a scholarship, had allowed him two days' holiday.

From the little shop, with which the kitchen sitting-room communicated, came his mother's voice talking to a customer.

"He ought to be locked up—that's what he ought to be, Mrs. Maitland," the customer was exclaiming in indignant tones. "He's just a swindler! They say he's never paid a single shilling of rent for Widgery Dene since he's been there. And the money he owes about the place run into hundreds!"

Jim Maitland let his attention wander from the exciting episode he was reading to the discussion going on in the jolly little shop, with its bow bottle-glass windows, and its pleasant smell of bacon and tea and spices and sweets.

"It's a shame, that's what it is," his mother's voice retorted. "I suppose I've got to consider myself one of the lucky ones. He only owes me a matter of sixteen shillings odd!"

"Lor, Mrs. Maitland, you been robbed too? I thought you were the only shopkeeper in the place that hadn't been caught."

"He came in, a matter of two months ago. I was just getting Jim's dinner ready at the time. He banged on the counter so loudly that I dropped what I was doing and ran into the shop, thinking maybe it was a fire. And there he was standing with that big bushy beard of his, and that funny look in his eyes, that made me think he was mad.

"'Got any tinned meat and eggs?' he snapped at me—just like that! Luckily for me I only had three tinned tongues in the shop and two dozen eggs. He told me he would take the lot. I made a parcel of them and handed them over the counter, of course, expecting that he would pay. He just snatched up the parcel. 'Put it down to Mr. Stanislaus Cripps, of Widgery Dene,' he says, glaring at me, and then without another word stamps out of the shop."

"He's just a swindler, that's what he is, Mrs. Maitland. And what's he doing up at Widgery Dene? That's what everybody wants to know. He surrounded the place with them twelve foot wire-meshed railings—must have cost him hundreds of pounds if he ever paid for them—and no-body's had a look inside the place since he's been there. It's a fair sight up at Widgery during the day time, they tell me, with solicitors clerks walking round trying to serve him with summonses, and all the tradesmen in the place hanging about hoping to get speech with him."

The customer's voice sank to a nervous whisper as if she were embarking on a ghost story.

"And at night, Mrs. Maitland! I don't know whether you've ever seen it, but sometimes there's great sheets of flame go up quite sudden, and there's always such a clanging and knocking. Some of the old folks say it's witchcraft, but, of course I don't hold with those sort of stories these days—"

"Whatever he's up to, I wish he'd pay my account," Mrs. Maitland exclaimed. "I can't afford to have folk robbing me like that."

Jim heard the tinkle of the bell attached to the door as the customer passed out into the street. He sprang to his feet and entered the shop.

Jim was tall for his age, and as he stood there with his firm set jaw and his handsome face, it was clear to see that he regarded himself as his mother's protector. Mrs. Maitland smiled up at him with pride in her eyes.

"He owes me an account for sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny, Jim, and from what I hear there doesn't seem much chance of my ever being paid."

"If you think I'm going to let you be swindled, mother, when I'm about, you're jolly well mistaken. Give me the account and I'll take it up on my bicycle to Widgery Dene."

"But everybody in the place is trying to get money out of him, Jim, and there's whole hosts of tradesmen from London wanting their money as well. He'd never give you a chance of seeing him."

The fact that the task he had set himself might be a difficult one only whetted his determination. Since his father's death, two years before, he was the only man in the house, and it was his duty to stand by his mother and see that she wasn't imposed upon by such people as this swindler up at Widgery Dene. Ten minutes later, with the account in his breast pocket, he was pedalling his bicycle out of Stagmore.

Widgery Dene stood in a fold of the hills four miles away—very fertile farming land, but one of the loneliest spots in the county. As Jim turned the corner of the street and plunged into the darkness of the country road, he glimpsed for a moment out of the corner of his eye the lighted bow window of his mother's shop. Little did he dream of all that was to happen to him before he saw those lights of home again. It was a stiff climb; but with his head over the handlebars, he pushed his machine steadily up hill. In half an hour, very hot and breathless, he halted on the outskirts of Widgery Dene.

There was the old farm house. A mass of shadow without one single light burning in any of its windows. Jim peered at it through the bars of the great iron gate which he found to be locked. A stillness as of death seemed to brood over the place. For the first time he was conscious of a certain eerie sensation as if cold water were trickling down his back. It was so dark and the old house looked so ghostly.

He pulled himself together with an effort. He had come there to protect his mother's interests. It was up to him to see that she wasn't swindled.

He tried to climb the gates, only to find that a fringe of at the top made it absolutely impossible. But there must be other ways of getting into the premises and obtaining his interview with Mr. Stanislaus Cripps. He began to walk along the wire-meshed railings that had been erected in sections all round the property. They were twelve feet high and they were protected, like the gates, by spikes. To climb over them was impossible. But he was not going to give up the task he had set himself. There must be a way of getting into Widgery Dene.

Beyond the fence was a belt of beech trees, some two hundred feet wide, which completely shielded the farm from observation. He had covered nearly a mile in his vain search for an opening it these defences when suddenly he halted. Just above his head a branch of one of the beech trees thrust itself out over the top of the fence. Near the fence itself it was well beyond his reach, but farther away it drooped to within six feet of the ground. A look of excitement crept into Jim's eyes as he made his way to the spot immediately under this extremity. Bending a moment, he sprang upwards and caught the thin end of the branch. It nearly broke in his fingers. Very gingerly he worked his hands along until they gripped a stouter portion of the branch. The flexible piece of timber swung upwards as he jumped from the ground, and the next instant he was moving hand over hand towards the railings, suspended between Heaven and earth. A shove with his foot on one of the spikes, and he was over the top of the fence. The next instant his arms were about the trunk of the tree and he had slipped to the ground.

He was inside Widgery Dene; he had accomplished the task which had defied all the duns and solicitors and clerks who had been besieging the place for weeks. Now all he had to do was to find Mr. Stanislaus Cripps himself.

It was very dark in that belt of beech trees, and he was conscious again of a cold shiver running up and down his spine. He must not stay there, he told himself, letting himself be frightened. He was going to get that sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny. With his heart beating a little irregularly, he groped his way through the belt of beech trees. Now for the first time he saw the great forty-acre meadow which formed part of the farm. It stretched there before him, a beautiful level expanse of grass land. Faint wisps of mist were rising from the ground shrouding everything in a delicate mysterious beauty. He glanced to his left, intending to take his direction to the house, but even as he did so a little breath of wind tore that veil of vapour, and opened up before his eyes something which made his hair stand on end and the blood suddenly turn to ice in his veins.

It was something the like of which he had never seen before. Something so unfamiliar, so utterly unexpected, that for a moment panic seized upon him, and every instinct he possessed called on him to turn and run. Only his dogged will and courage kept him standing there, with every nerve and muscle tense.

What was it, he asked himself, as he heard the blood pounding in his ears? It was like some great balloon used on an airship, and yet it wasn't a balloon. It lay there on the grass a thing of shimmering silver. It was quite two hundred yards long. At its centre it bellied out enormously, standing quite three hundred feet high, but so beautifully was it constructed, so finely had it been tapered down to what looked like needle-points at either end, that the vastness of its bulk did not immediately dawn on Jim's senses.

He stood there petrified, staring at this amazing object which for all its size, seemed to lie upon the grass like a bubble. He became conscious of another object, looking absurdly small moving just below the centre of the structure. It was a man, and he had no need to be told that that man was Mr. Stanislaus Cripps. The sight of him had an instant effect upon Jim. He forgot they eerie terrors by which he had been possessed. He remembered only the object which had brought him there. One hand went to the breast pocket of his coat where he had placed that account for sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny. He was going to have that money out of Mr. Stanislaus Cripps.

He began to walk rather timidly across the grass, but as he drew nearer that vast glittering structure his coolness returned. He kept his eyes fixed upon Mr. Stanislaus Cripps. Now he could see that the man was loading a number of cases through an aperture in the shimmering structure. It was a kind of door he saw as he approached to within a few yards. So busily was the man occupied that he never heard the boy's footsteps on the grass. Jim came right up behind him as was thrusting the last case through the doorway. He was pausing to wipe his forehead with his handkerchief, as if exhausted with the effort he had been making, when Jim touched him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir, but this is a little account of my mother's that I should he glad if you would settle as it's been owing for a long time."

Never was Jim to forget his first sight of Mr. Stanislaus Cripps' face as he turned swiftly. He glimpsed a fiery red beard that had been so long untrimmed that it hung in a cascade over his abnormally broad shoulders; he saw a row of great yellow fangs as the man's lips opened in an animal-like snarl. He found himself looking into a pair of bloodshot eyes aglow with an almost demoniac fury. And then the next moment a great hand shot out, palm open, and he was lying on his back in the grass.

"Boy, do you think I will allow a paltry account to stand between me and my destiny? Away, you tradesman's huckster! Go back to those who sent you, and tell them that it should be their pride and privilege to support Stanislaus Cripps."

The voice was the loudest voice Jim ever remembered to have heard. It was like the bellow of a bull. He scrambled to his feet, half dazed. The man had not used his fist but had simply pushed him down with the flat of his hand.

"You've got to pay the sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny you owe mother. I'm not going to see her cheated by a common swindler."

Mr. Cripps' only reply was to thrust out that great hand again and push him back on the ground. Put though he was shaken by the violence of this second fall, Jim's blood was up now. He twisted, and crawling on all fours tried to clasp his hands about the man's ankles. Even as he did so he heard a bellowing laugh and was just in time to see Stanislaus Cripps slip through the aperture in that mysterious gleaming structure. It flashed into Jim's mind then that the man intended to secrete himself in the interior of that huge silvery hulk, and so avoid the payment of his just dues. He did the only thing he could think of. If the man was going in there, he would go in after him. With a spring he caught the edge of that aperture with his fingers—it was curiously cold and metallic to his touch—and pulling himself up stumbled head foremost into the dark interior. Even as he did so he heard a click, and looking round he was just in time to see a little square of grey light diminish and vanish. The door had closed.

But he was inside—and inside with Mr. Stanislaus Cripps, and he took courage from that fact. But where was Mr. Stanislaus Cripps? All about him was impenetrable blackness. He stood still and listened, not daring to move from the spot where he had fallen. Faintly there came to his ears the sound of footsteps above him. He groped with his hands in the darkness. His fingers touched something which he presently found to be the first step of a flight of stairs. Very gingerly he drew himself to his feet.

And at that moment the darkness about him vanished in a blaze of light. He could see above him a ceiling constructed of that same silvery material as the outside of this mysterious contrivance. The floor all about him was piled with barrels and cases. So much he glimpsed, and then turned his attention to the stairs at the foot of which he was standing. They led upwards in a spiral. Somewhere above there was Mr. Stanislaus Cripps. He must follow him. He began to climb the stairs. They ascended unendingly, so it seemed to him, passing from one floor to another. Some of these floors were divided into compartments opening out of a corridor. But he paid little attention to his surroundings in his determination to find his mother's defaulting creditor. He must have ascended nearly three hundred feet, he reflected, when the spiral stairs came to an abrupt end in an apartment some twenty feet square. As his eyes came to a level with the floor, he was able to see Stanislaus Cripps who was standing in front of a curious switchboard arrangement, that Jim thought might be some kind of wireless set. On his right were a number of dials, the hands of which were slowly revolving. On the other side were several levers.

All the savagery—all the demoniac rage had vanished from his face now. He stood there staring at those dials and smiling, and despite the red wildness of his beard and the tangled disorder of his hair, that smile made his face almost pleasant. Jim nerved himself for the struggle which he realised was approaching. Still standing on the stairs—for they afforded a ready line of retreat in the event of Mr. Cripps showing any more violence—he broke in upon the other's strange reverie.

Stanislaus Cripps seemed to drag his eyes away from the faces of those mysterious dials with difficulty and to direct them on the boy.

"Boy," he exclaimed. "Boy! You here still, with your impertinent requests and impudent demands. Why, I left you on the grass in Forty Acre Meadow."

"If you thought I was going to leave you until I'd got the money you owe mother, you were mistaken, sir," he exclaimed boldly. "You'd better let me have it and then I won't bother you any more."

Stanislaus Cripps made a sudden scooping movement of his arm like someone catching a fly, and before Jim could duck he was caught, lifted off his feet, and dragged into the room.

"Do you know where you are, boy?" Stanislaus Cripps demanded, looking down into his face.

The man grinned, and then as if he had been the handle of a tap, turned Jim about with one twist of his powerful hands.

"That" was the top of a table covered with a white substance and illuminated in some mysterious way by a curious apparatus in the ceiling. Over this white surface there streamed a series of shadows which for a moment Jim was unable to comprehend.

"Well?" said the voice of Stanislaus Cripps, "Are you so ignorant, boy—has your disgusting tradesman's life so blunted your intelligence—that you do not comprehend what is written so plainly there?"

Jim flushed. It was very annoying to be spoken to like that, especially when he was a grammar school scholar and had done so well in the London Matric.

"It looks like a very bad cinema picture of the land taken from an aeroplane," he exclaimed.

It had dawned upon him suddenly what it was like. In that stream of shadows that was passing across the surface, he could distinguish woods and hills and valleys, that rushed by in a never-ending flow.

"Not so very bad, boy! But you aren't looking at a film reproduction; you're looking at the real thing. That is the earth over which we are passing at a height of two thousand feet."

Jim twisted round and stared up at him, lips agape. The man, as if reading the unspoken question in his eyes, grinned.

"Remember, boy, I never asked you to come. You're a stowaway. I ought by rights to drop you overboard and thereby rob the world of some future greedy grocer. But I won't—not just yet anyway. Now you are here, you must stay. There can be no putting back for the convenience of an insignificant trifle like you. I am bound on a voyage such as no other man has ever undertaken. At this moment we are travelling at three hundred and fifty miles an hour. Before another dawn breaks, we shall be three thousand miles away from Widgery Dene."

"An air ship, a frail futile thing made of silk and filled with explosive gas. No, boy—this is a vessel which I built myself, capable not only of navigating the air, but of plunging down into the very deepest depths of the ocean. This is the greatest invention of the age—the Flying Submarine."

II. — BOUND FOR THE PACIFIC

STANISLAUS CRIPPS in spite of the fact that he had been addressing Jim in the most contemptuous terms, began now of a sudden to speak to him as if he were an audience at a scientific lecture. For the better part of an hour he talked like one who had been bottled up for months, and at last finds himself free to explode. Much of what was said was beyond Jim's comprehension, but here and there he managed to gather a few facts.

The Flying Submarine was constructed of a metal, composite in its character, which Stanislaus Cripps had invented. The property of this metal was that it was harder than steel, and yet was of a specific gravity less than that of the air.

"I found it months and months ago. The secret is mine and it shall die with me. I have no intention of having it exploited by financiers."

As far as he could understand—for not only his explosive method of talking but his occasional use of very long scientific words made it more than difficult to understand—Jim gathered that the basis of this peculiar metal that was stronger than steel but lighter than air, was certain kind of clay deposit that was found in very few places. Widgery Dene happened to be one of those places. Jim gathered that Stanislaus Cripps, though quite penniless, was not to be deterred from the development of his invention by lack of funds. By the same combination of bluff and bluster that had secured the tinned meats and the eggs from Mrs. Maitland's shop, he had obtained the lease of the premises without paying farthing. He was going to allow no one else to handle his invention and make money out of it. For two years he had lived at Widgery Dene on credit, ruthlessly robbing every tradesman he could find, running up enormous bills everywhere and all the time working on his invention. He gloried in his dishonesty.

"I have made the world pay toll to my genius, boy!" he said. "Now, at last, my work is completed. To-night I am flying over the world at a speed never yet dreamed of. To-morrow I will sink to the bottom of the ocean."

Still, as if Jim was the audience at a scientific lecture, he began to explain the use of the apparatus by which he was surrounded.

"This controls the engine," he remarked, touching a switch. "Its motor power is derived from the combination of two chemicals which produce a high explosive gas. This communicates with the air reservoirs, which occupy seven-eighths of the whole space of the ship."

He launched out into technical details. Jim, listening with all his ears, gathered in a general way that the buoyancy of the ship was effected by the simple process of emptying the air reservoirs. The casing of the ship being lighter than air, the huge structure immediately displaced an amount of air greater than its own weight and, by the same law that makes a vessel float in water, caused the Flying Submarine to ascend to any desired height.

"If I create a perfect vacuum in the reservoirs, the vessel should ascend to the very confines of the atmosphere, and there float like a boat on the surface of the sea. Only one crude invention have I borrowed from the clumsy aeronauts of to-day. My ship is driven through the air by a propeller in the bows."

He stuck both his thumbs in the frayed arm-holes of his waistcoat and threw out his great chest.

"As I have attempted to explain to you in the few remarks I have made, my vessel is in essence a flying submarine. We descend to the surface of the water, and then plunge beneath it. The air-reservoirs that give us our buoyancy when we wish to fly are then filled with water. The enormous strength of this metal I have invented enables me to subject those reservoirs to great pressure and so to sink to what depth I wish. We will now, with your permission, inspect the engine-room—one minute, though!"

He glanced at the while surface of the table over which those shadows were still streaming—the mirrored picture of the world over which they were flying.

"Look, we are just clearing the coast of Brittany. There is the Bay. By to-morrow we shall have touched South America. By the day after we shall have begun our great exploration of the submerged continent that lies hidden beneath the waters of the Pacific."

For the first time since this amazing lecture had begun, it ceased to hold and rivet Jim's attention. He thought of his mother waiting for him in the little kitchen sitting-room behind the shop, and the supper she would have prepared for him.

"But I don't want to go to the Pacific. I only came to get the money you owed mother. You have no right to take me out of the country."

Stanislaus Cripps stared at him with eyes that seemed to look right through him without seeing him. He was still the scientific lecturer addressing an audience.

"We will now, with your permission, pass to an inspection of the engine room. Perhaps you will have the goodness to step this way?"

Without waiting for Jim he bolted down the staircase. For a moment the boy stood irresolute. If only he had understood enough of what had been told him to turn the ship about and make for home again!

As the thought of that flashed into his head Jim found his hand straying towards one of the levers. Could be risk it? As he stood there irresolute he heard heavy footsteps. Cripps was returning. His chance would be gone forever in a matter of moments. And as that idea printed itself on his brain his hand touched the lever!

The result was startling! At once the whole ship gave a violent lurch. Then it started to drop earthwards like a stone. At the same moment Cripps came stumbling into the room.

"Great heavens!" he roared. "What has happened? We are dashing headlong to destruction!"

III. — THE FLYING SUBMARINE

WHILE Mr. Cripps was speaking he shouldered past Jim and sprang at the lever the lad had touched. For what seemed like minutes the machine continued its dash earthwards. Then, as Mr. Cripps feverishly manipulated various controls, there was a terrific lurch and Jim was flung off his feet.

The machine was now once again gliding smoothly on its course, and Jim picked himself up. He expected Mr. Cripps to storm at him for having caused the accident. But to his relief the eccentric man made no mention of the incident. He appeared to think that Jim had caused the accident quite unintentionally.

He led the way up a flight of stairs and halted at an open door. From within came the rhythmic sound of machinery. Jim caught a glimpse of enormous pistons of that wonderful metal moving backwards and forwards.

Mr. Cripps began to lecture again on the construction of his machine. But Jim scarcely listened. With every minute that passed they were leaving England farther and farther behind. Jim wanted desperately to be allowed to go home.

Several times he began to ask permission. But Mr. Cripps did not even seem to hear him, but went on talking—talking—in that loud, booming bellow. At last Jim could stand it no longer. He caught Mr. Cripps by the arm.

The man's manner changed instantly. He appeared in a moment to become aware of Jim's existence as a single person and not a crowd. A grin expanded his lips.

"Home, boy? Certainly not. Do you think I want to pay your mother sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny? Believe me, I should detest it. You came here unasked, and here you must stay. You shall have the inestimable privilege of sharing in my amazing investigations. Banish the thought of home, boy. You shall cook for me. You shall make yourself useful. Come, we will have supper, and then to bed."

Jim awoke the following morning with a feeling that he must have been dreaming. Surely he must be back in his little bed-room over the shop! But he wasn't there. A sensation of desolation swept over him as he glanced round the room with its shining silver ceiling, walls, and floor, and all that had happened to him swept through his mind.

He was on the Flying Submarine alone with Stanislaus Cripps. He recalled the strange supper they had had—how he had been shown into the room in which he was now lying. The blankets and mattress were brand new, evidently a portion of the loot which the man had extracted from the shopkeepers he had swindled.

Whether he liked it or not, he was embarked on this adventure, and the best thing was to go through with it, keeping a stiff upper lip and hoping for the best.

The watch under his pillow showed him that it was seven o'clock. He remembered that Stanislaus Cripps had told him that he could act as cook. He had thrown it out not as an order, but as a suggestion. Recalling the previous night's amazing interview, Jim remembered that Mr. Cripps' attitude towards him had been extraordinary. Sometimes he had been the "hireling of a greedy tradesman"; the next moment apparently someone of Mr. Cripps' own age and lastly just "boy"—a fellow creature very immature, whom he treated very much as Jim treated his terrier at home. The only thing to be done was to make the best of the situation and as idleness would be unbearable—as it would only give him more time to think of his mother and his home—he made his way to the kitchen when he had dressed.

Mr. Cripps had called it the "kitchen," though it was unlike any other kitchen he had ever seen in his life. There Jim started to prepare breakfast. There was no fire to be lit and no matches to be struck. Everything was to be done by electricity generated from the great engines of the Flying Submarine. In a quarter of an hour he had the kettle boiling and the bacon fried.

Then, finding some crockery in a cupboard, he laid the table in the dining-room—a long apartment with chairs and tables of the same mysterious metal as the ship, and so light that the draught created by opening the door moved them several feet, as if they were leaves caught by the wind This done, he found his way to the pilot-house at the very top of the stairs Stanislaus Cripps was there immersed in a map. At Jim's entrance he looked up with a friendly grin, as if they had been acquainted for years.

"Well, boy and how did you sleep? She's kept her speed and her course through the night without a single variation, which means we shall strike the coast of South America by evening."

"Splendid! I knew there was something I had to decide—whether I should cook the breakfast for you, or you should cook the breakfast for me, but you've settled the matter. Come along!"

IV. — A DESPERATE TEST

JIM, as he tucked into the bacon, listened to Mr. Cripps' bellow, as he recited his plans for the future. And such nightmare plans! As he glanced at him Jim wondered if he were sane.

"I thought of testing her this morning on the sea," he was saying; "but I came to the conclusion that it would be a waste of time. I know she'll do whatever I want of her. The great thing is to get money, boy—money. I must establish myself in the world, and without these foolish tokens of exchange it is difficult."

Jim reflected that, seeing he had lived for two years without them, and had built that amazing ship in the meantime, Cripps hadn't done so badly, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

"West of Chili—between that coast and Easter Island—that's where I'm hoping to find the treasure. You will remember, boy, that a whole vast continent vanished beneath the waves in that particular area of the world. Easter Island, with its amazing evidences of a past civilisation—its wonderful statues—is a proof. We are going to explore that buried world. We will go down four or five miles to the bed of the ocean—you and I, my boy. If I mistake not we shall find gold there, which will make the treasures of the Incas of Peru seem a paltry trifle."

Jim could no longer retain his curiosity. He must satisfy himself whether this man was mad or not.

"I suppose you can get the airship under the sea, sir, but I don't see how, when you've got it there, you're going to explore the bed of the ocean."

Stanislaus Cripps pushed buck his chair so violently that it flew from under him, rose in the air like a piece of paper and fluttered softly down on his head He looked up with a puzzled expression for a moment, and then quietly removed it.

"One takes some time to remember how light this metal of mine is," he remarked. "I ought really to have screwed the tables and chairs to the floor, but one can't think of everything. Come with me, boy, and I'll give you an answer to the question you put to me just now."

Seizing his arm he led him to the bottom floor of the great ship. Arrived there he opened a door which moved inwards. Within was a small apartment from the walls of which hung what looked to Jim like suits of armour.

"Those are our diving suits. We come in here and close the door. Those cylinders at the back are capable of providing sufficient air for an immersion of twenty-four hours. Enormous as the pressure of the water will be at the particular spot where I intend to carry out my investigations, this metal of mine is capable of resisting it. We don these suits. Then we turn this handle and admit the sea, checking its ingress as occasion requires. When the apartment Is full, the pressure inside and out will be the same. We then open that door and step out on to the bed of the ocean."

He entered into a number of technical details as to how the air was expelled from the chamber. As far as Jim could understand this air was packed away in a reservoir above until required again. To return to the ship, the outer door was closed, pumps were set in motion, and the water expelled. They would then remove their suit and pass out into the body of the ship.

Jim was never to forget that morning. Stanislaus Cripps took him round the ship, and talked, and talked, and talked, explaining the immense importance of his invention and how, if he chose to give it to the world, it would revolutionise society. Presently Jim caught some of his excitement and his enthusiasm. He almost forgot his homesickness in his pride at being the sharer in this tremendous adventure. On the various floors there were rooms innumerable, all destitute of furniture.

"I hadn't the patience to make the furniture," Mr. Cripps exclaimed, "but some day when I am rich, you and I, boy, will make this ship a flying palace!"

"A very intelligent question, boy! It seems to you impossible that I should have done it alone, but one of the properties of this metal I have invented is that at a certain state in the process of its development, it is as malleable as clay. You can mould it with your hands. With the most elementary machinery—a turning lathe—an ordinary potter's wheel—it was possible to fashion the various parts of the ship. For two years I worked on it, and here is the result."

There were no windows in the Flying Submarine. Save for the periscope she was blind, but on that white-topped table in the pilot-house it was possible to watch the progress they made. Jim saw the sea rolling from beneath them—a liner ship by—an island flash for a moment on that surface and then vanish. Steadily, at an unvarying speed of three hundred and fifty miles an hour, the Flying Submarine kept her southerly course throughout the day. Towards evening Mr. Cripps called Jim's attention to the fact that the sea had vanished.

"South America, boy," he boomed. "On our return journey we will explore those unknown tracts of land in the interior, but for a moment we cannot waste the time. As we do not wish to collide with any of the mountain ranges during the night, boy, we will ascend."

"Look, boy, look how perfectly she answers to her controls. That needle registers her height from the surface of the sea."

Jim saw the needle pass from 10,000 to 20,000, to 30,000. He glanced at the mirrored reflection cast by the periscope. The earth that had been so vividly distinct only a moment before, had now shrunk to an indistinguishable blur.

"By to-morrow, we shall have crossed this continent and have reached the scene of our operations. You have seen how my invention has conquered the air. To-morrow you will see her victory over the depths of the sea."

V. — ON THE BED OF THE OCEAN

JIM was conscious of a growing sense of excitement. He had long lost any feeling of fear for his strange companion. He did not even bother himself with the question of whether he was sane or not. That marvellous invention of his was at any rate. It was wonderful to be flying through the air at that enormous speed as steadily as if he were on the deck of a steamer; it would be still more wonderful to go down to the very bed of the ocean and discover its mysteries. So excited was he that he hardly slept that night. It was not until dawn had broken that he really passed into a deep slumber.

He woke with a start to find that It was already ten o'clock. Springing out of bed he dressed himself and hurried to the pilot house to enquire if Mr. Cripps had already breakfasted. A breath of warm air met him as he stepped off the stairs on to the floor. Looking up he saw there was a round hole in the roof against which a ladder was placed. He clambered up the ladder to find himself standing on the vast shining deck of the Flying Submarine.

She was slowly descending. He joined Stanislaus Cripps, who was leaning over the rail staring downwards. Below he could see the ocean coming up to meet them. Steadily the great vessel sank. Now the first ripple of the sea touched her and she bounced like a bubble caught by the wind. Without a word Stanislaus Cripps darted below, and presently the water began to close about the vessel until she floated half submerged, swinging easily to the tide.

It did not take Jim long to prepare tea and bacon and seated there on the deck cross-legged, they devoured their meal. When they had finished Cripps lit his pipe. His blue eyes were shining with excitement.

"Now, boy we will test what she can do under the sea. We are lying at this moment midway between Easter Island and the coast of Chili. It is here or hereabouts that I hope to find the submerged continent. Make haste and clear these things away and we'll begin our most important exploration."

The breakfast things removed, Jim joined his companion in the pilot house. The port-hole in the roof had been closed, and everything was in readiness for the submersion of the vessel.

As an experience it was somewhat disappointing, Jim found. Except that the reflections on the white topped table vanished, nothing seemed to happen. But Stanislaus Cripps appeared quite satisfied. Studying a dial he recorded the number of fathoms they had descended. Suddenly he gave an exclamation of delight.

"I have the honour to inform you, boy, that we are now subjected to a pressure which would squash the sides of a battleship as easily as you would break an eggshell. If you could step out of this vessel at this moment, you would be instantly flattened. Only my metal is capable of bearing such a pressure."

Jim felt more than a little uneasy. The disturbing thought flashed through his mind that after all Mr Stanislaus Cripps might be wrong. He was interrupted in his gloomy thoughts by another exclamation from his companion.

"Boy, we have touched bottom. We are now fifteen hundred fathoms below the surface—three hundred fathoms more, if my memory serves me right, than any yet recorded depth! Now all we have to do is to make our way to the diving-room, don our dresses and begin our investigations."

He made his way to the head of the stairs, and was about to descend when the floor beneath them lurched violently. Jim was sent cannoning against his companion. Grasping at him wildly, they went together head over heels down the stairs. Somehow they managed to stay their progress at the first floor. Jim, who was lying uppermost, felt himself flung aside, as Stanislaus Cripps, uttering some violent exclamation, leapt over him and bounded up the stairs. Dazedly Jim crawled after him. The ship was lurching drunkenly beneath his feet, flinging him from side to side. He managed somehow to gain the pilot house. Stanislaus Cripps was standing there wedged in a corner staring at the dials.

"Can't make it out, boy. We're moving, but I don't know why we're moving. A current at this depth is absurd."

"The engines are working at their full capacity, and yet, you see, we are recording no speed. That means we must be being pulled backwards."

"Can it be a leak in the ocean bed, boy? Can it be that we are being sucked down into the centre of the earth?"

He could only stare at Stanislaus Cripps panic-stricken. But there was no fear in the other's face. He looked for all the world like a chess player profoundly puzzled by the unexpected move of one of his opponent's pieces.

"An interesting problem, boy. It remains to be seen whether we shall live to discover its solution if my engines can't hold her, the strength of the current must be enormous."

"I've emptied the reservoirs. She has enough buoyancy at this moment to float twenty thousand feet above the sea. And yet, we don't go up. We're like a straw caught in a mill stream."

"We must get to an end somewhere, boy. This water must have some outlet, and according to the unalterable laws, it must rise eventually to the same level as the sea. It may be a subterranean cavern, in which case, once freed from this current, with our present buoyancy, we shall rise suddenly and be dashed to pieces against the roof."

He was thinking aloud, and having arrived at these conclusions he stretched out his hand and moved the levers which replenished the empty reservoirs with air and stopped the engines.

There was dead silence in the pilot house, broken only now and again by the slipping of their feet on the floor as the ship lurched and trembled. Five minutes went by. In spite of the ingenious machinery by which the vessel was maintained in a state of stable equilibrium, the floor every moment grew steeper, until at last they were actually standing on what before had been one of the walls. Then suddenly there was a jar. The great vessel shivered throughout its length, oscillated violently, and then assumed its normal horizontal position so unexpectedly that they were jerked off their feet like pebbles from a catapult. Stanislaus Cripps was the first to pick himself up.

Even as be uttered the words he gave a little start, and his shaggy brows were puckered in a frown.

"This is strange, boy. For the last ten minutes we have been descending almost vertically. Judging by the speed we have been travelling we must have covered at least five miles. That means that we are at least six miles below the surface of the sea. According to the laws governing the action of fluids, we should be rising, and we should go on rising until we have ascended that six miles. And yet, we are stationary. What is the meaning of it?"

Jim had no suggestion to make. All he knew was that however far away the surface of the sea might be, he wished he was there.

"What is the solution, boy?" Stanislaus Cripps boomed. "As we are not rising, the leak in the bed of the ocean must somehow have become closed. But how has it become closed? That we can only know by investigation."

He advanced calmly to the spot immediately under the roof where the huge screw cap, now carefully closed, allowed communication with the deck. Jim caught his arm in alarm.

"See where we are, boy, and satisfy myself as to whether the theory I have formed is correct or not."

"Impossible boy. We are floating on the surface. Those dials cannot lie. The only pressure above us is air or a gaseous vapour of some kind. We must see where we are."

He touched a button and the great cap began slowly to unscrew and rise upwards. Jim watched it fascinatedly. Stanislaus Cripps checked its ascent just at the point when it was about to slide backwards on to the deck. Looking up the aperture he sniffed several times.

He touched the button again, and the great screw cap swung clear and sunk into its position on the deck Peering upwards. Jim found himself staring into a strange blue luminous atmosphere.

"This is Interesting, boy," said Stanislaus Cripps. "We will now go on deck and take stock of our surroundings."

He sprang coolly up the ladder. After a moment's hesitation Jim followed him. A second later and he was standing by his companion's side, his hair bristling on his head, staring out on a nightmare world.

VI. — MONSTERS OF THE DEEP

ALL about them stretched a waste of black inky waters on which the great vessel floated like a cork. The atmosphere was blue, but differing from the shade of the sky on a clear sunny day as the colours of the Oxford crew differ from those of Cambridge. In that strange light the Flying Submarine had taken on a wonderful shimmering greenish hue.

So much Jim noticed of his immediate surroundings. Then he raised his eyes, with a strange shrinking feeling as if he dreaded to discover some new horror in their situation. At first he could see nothing but that blue atmosphere, and then faintly through that phosphorescent gloom he caught a faint glimmer like the shining of a star. It was curious how his heart leapt at that discovery. He turned quickly and caught his companion's arm.

But Stanislaus Cripps seemed strangely unmoved by his statement. He was staring across the waste of waters with that same thoughtful look in his face.

"Boy, my theory must be correct. We are six miles under the surface of the sea; we have travelled the last five in a torrent of water poured through some leak in the bed of the ocean; that leak must now be closed, otherwise this water on which we are floating would be rising, and it is obviously maintaining its existing level. But how was that leak closed? And where is the bed of the ocean?"

Following the direction of his gaze, Jim was able to make out a vast towering wall of rock that glittered faintly. It looked like some magical cave, but of a vastness which exceeded the imagination of man. Up into the gloom it stretched, seamed and torn as if it had been excavated by the hand of man, to be lost in that dark azure shadow above.

"This is very interesting, boy," Stanislaus Cripps boomed. "We are on the verge of a discovery beyond the wildest dreams of scientists. First we must satisfy ourselves on two points—how this flow of water has been checked, and how we come to be breathing pure air?"

"It would appear, boy, that there must be some opening to the outer world. I noticed a distinct difficulty in raising my hand. That means that we are subjected to the ordinary terrestrial pressure of the atmosphere plus six more miles of it. An interesting phenomenon!"

Jim now noticed that he had a certain difficulty in moving. It was as if his limbs were compressed by some thick fluid.

"Hadn't we better ascend, sir?" he said nervously. "I mean, if there's a way out, oughtn't we to find it?"

"Boy, you must be insane! Do you imagine that after coming here, I am going to leave the place until I have solved the mysteries by which it is surrounded? The only thing of value in life is experience, and here is an experience—unique!" Something in the water seemed suddenly to attract his attention, for he leant over the rail.

"Look, boy, there are fish here—dead fish—fish flattened by the enormous pressure to which they have been subjected."

He plunged his hand into the water and drew out what looked like a fish over which a steam roller had passed.

Suddenly his figure grew rigid. Jim looking up from his inspection of that flattened fish, followed the direction of his gaze. Instantly the blood ceased circulating in his veins and his heart seemed to stop beating. Outlined against that vast cavern wall in that strange blue haze were four enormous figures. They stood there on the brink of the water holding in their hands what looked like nets, but of a size unknown to man. They were like monstrous statues carved from pinkish-blue stone. For a moment Jim had the illusion that they were statues standing at least twenty feet high—statues perfectly proportioned to the vast scale on which they had been constructed—the figures of men exaggerated to a gigantic mould.

And then the next instant he saw them move. They had waded into the water. He could see the phosphorescent ripples about their massive limbs, and out of the azure murk eight fiery eyes stared steadily downwards at the Flying Submarine and the two human beings standing there on its deck.

ALL Jim's instincts urged him to rush to the companionway and take refuge in the pilot house; but a very paralysis of terror seemed to seize upon him. He wanted to cry out, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Never in the wildest nightmare had his senses pictured a scene so utterly terrifying.

The setting was enough—that awe-inspiring cavern—so vast that its roof was lost in obscurity—the strange blue atmosphere—the dark murk of oily water on which the Flying Submarine floated—but those four gigantic figures that were approaching them, the water rippling phosphorescently about their enormous limbs, was a very climax of horror. If only he could get away—if only he could take his shrinking body into the pilot house. Every nerve and muscle cried out for him to hide, but he could not move.

Stanislaus Cripps' voice boomed in his ear. What he meant, Jim hadn't the slightest idea. With an effort of will he managed to turn his eyes away from those horrifying figures which confronted him. Stanislaus Cripps was leaning against the rail in an attitude of studious calm. Of terror or uneasiness he did not display a sign. His whole attitude was that of a scientist inspecting, in circumstances of perfect security, some very interesting specimens.

If Jim had only known it, those were the last words he was destined to hear Stanislaus Cripps utter for many weary months. Even as he uttered them, the leading giant thrust out an arm, and a great hand, the span of which was over two feet, closed about Jim and lifted him bodily from the deck. He kicked and struggled, yelling now at the top of his voice, but the effect on his captor was much the same as the wrigglings of a rabbit caught by a gamekeeper. The giant held him close to his face as if to inspect him. Jim found himself staring into a cavernous mouth surrounded by great blubbering lips—into eyes so abnormally distended that they seemed almost as large as apples; and behind those bulbous lips he saw great yellow fangs, three or four inches in length. Perhaps what was the most terrifying thing of all, was the fact that that vast face was utterly expressionless. And then the giant spoke, and his voice, instead of awaking the echoes of that vast cavern, was little more than a whisper. One word he uttered.

That was what the word sounded like to Jim, but even had he been in the mood to inquire closely into the language that these giants spoke—which he certainly wasn't—he would have had no opportunity, for the next moment, with an almost disdainful gesture, the giant jerked his huge arm upwards, and, opening his hand at the same moment, sent the boy hurtling through the air like a stone flung from a catapult.

He dropped on his hands and knees in a huge, soft, slimy pile. He felt his hands grip some clammy, fleshy substance, that moved under the impact of his fall. A familiar odour assailed his nostrils. Dazed as he was, he realised in an instant that he had been flung on to the pile of dead flattened fish that those giants had been removing from the waters with their nets. And as that realisation dawned upon him, he acted quickly. Clawing with his hands, he burrowed his way into that vast pile of fish until his figure was completely hidden from view. Then panting, he twisted himself into a sitting posture, and tried to recover his breath.

In that strange hiding place, surrounded by those myriads of dead flattened fish, he was at least able to breathe. For a moment he was safe. Apparently those giants had regarded him as a trifle not worth considering—as just another fish to be added to the common pile. He felt no anger or resentment at their contemptuous disposal of him. He was only too glad to be alive, and, for the moment, safe.

But what had happened to Stanislaus Cripps? Had he dared he would have burrowed out a peep-hole for himself in the hope of discovering the fate of his companion, but for a while he was too frightened even to move. He lay there in the darkness in the terrible stench waiting for something to happen—waiting he knew not for what.

Of the passage of time he knew nothing. Now and again there was a thud above his head, and that jellified mass quivered and shook as more fish were added to the pile. The giants, apparently indifferent to the fate of the two human beings who had invaded their mysterious world, had resumed their occupations. Gradually the weight that was pressing down on Jim became more than he could bear.

As the giant's nets were emptied at regular intervals and the pile of fish accumulated, breathing became more difficult. He couldn't stay there to be suffocated. He began to claw his way upwards, stamping desperately on the cascade of fish that poured about him. Now at last his head pierced the outer surface of the pile. He drew the air into his labouring lungs.

Looking about him he saw that the pile was now some twelve feet high. He turned his eyes in the direction of the water. With a feeling of utter despair he saw that the Flying Submarine had vanished. Perhaps it had been jerked from the water and flung contemptuously on the shore as he had been—as something obviously not eatable, and therefore of no interest to the denizens of that strange world. The Flying Submarine had gone. What hope then was there of escape from this subterranean prison?

It was curious how the fate of his companion touched him. Such a little while ago he had looked on him simply as the man who had swindled his mother out of money. Now he longed for his companionship, He would have given much to have heard his booming voice and to have seen that red, shaggy beard of his. He was nowhere to be seen. Like that wonderful invention of his, he had vanished.

VII. — A CHANCE OF ESCAPE

NOW that his eyes were getting accustomed to that strange blue atmosphere, he found he was able to focus objects at a much greater distance. About half a mile away he saw a group of giants seated cross-legged on the ground in a circle, and he was able to take in some more details of their appearance. Save for a loin-cloth they were destitute of clothing, and their whole appearance suggested a certain strange primitiveness.

Into that circle there presently strode another giant, distinguished by the whiteness of his hair and by a kind of cloak that he wore over his bare shoulder. At the appearance of this figure the other giants rose and made gestures of respect. Evidently the possessor of the cloak was a giant of some position—a man having authority, for the others sunk back on their haunches, while he stood there gesticulating and speaking in that curiously soft voice, which seemed so incongruous when coming from such enormous beings.

What they were talking about, Jim hadn't the slightest idea nor had he the slightest interest. The great fact that concerned him was that they were occupied. Now clearly was the moment to escape. Working his way out of his hiding place he slid down that slippery pile on the side furthest away from the giants' conference. With his heart in his mouth, he began to run at the top of his speed—heedless of where he went, anxious only to put as great a distance between himself and those monstrous beings, as quickly as he could.

The shore, he discovered, was littered with huge boulders, which he was glad to use as cover. He sped from one to the other, always with the terror in his heart that he might be pursued. Once from the shadows ahead of him a giant emerged, and Jim crouched down behind a rock. One of those great feet missed him by the fraction of an inch. He glimpsed five toes that were as long as his hand, and then that terror had passed.

He crawled on. Now he had gained the base of that towering cliff which he had seen from the deck of the Flying Submarine. In the distance when he had first viewed it, it had had a greenish appearance, but now as he stood quite close to it, He saw that it was a dull yellow. He crept along it, with no definite plan in his mind, but hoping strangely that he might find some means of climbing it.

Perhaps in his dazed thoughts there was the wild hope of escaping to the upper air—perhaps instinct taking the place of reason urged him to attempt that impossible climb of six miles to the earth's surface. But presently, as he realised that he was not being pursued—that the giants had forgotten his very existence—a more reasoned plan formed itself in his mind. If only he could climb some forty feet up out of the reach of the denizens of this strange world, he might find some cave in which he could hide.

He concentrated all his thoughts on this plan, but the wall of cliff seemed unclimbable. He pressed on, mile after mile, in his vain search for some foothold on that precipitous slope. Once on his left he saw what looked like a series of enormous cairns, which on inspection he discovered to be houses roughly made of boulders, in which the giants lived. Outside one of them a fire was burning, and over the fire was a huge vessel in which, obviously, food was being prepared. The leaping flames illuminated the great expressionless face of the giant in attendance, and at the sight of him Jim dropped on all fours and crawled for nearly half a mile before he felt himself safe.

He fought desperately against the faintness, weariness and desire for sleep that assailed him. He must find some hiding place first where he would be safe from these terrible creatures before he rested. For two hours longer, his footsteps dragging more heavily each moment, he continued his search of the cliff. He had almost given up hope—he was moving indeed in a kind of stupor, his limps acting automatically—when the great wall of rock at his side turned inwards abruptly. He felt his way round the corner. The next instant he had dropped flat on the ground.

There, seated on a rock, looking like some vast statue, was one of the giants. His great hands were resting on his knees, and his head was lolling forward on his chest as if he slept. Jim hardly dared to breathe. He must beat a retreat. Even as he was nerving himself to crawl backwards, a strange thing happened.

From the blue haze above a small figure leapt. So softly did it land on its bare feet, that it made no sound. Lying there Jim watched it fascinated, strangely comforted by the sight of someone of his own stature in that world of giants. Moving with the lithe grace of an acrobat, the man approached the slumbering giant. Now Jim realised what he was after. By the side of the giant was a vessel of yellow metal in which there was food. Noiselessly the man approached this. Now he had seized the vessel and lifted it from the ground. Even as he did so the giant seemed to wake, and one of his great hands snatched at the man, catching him about the waist. Jim glimpsed the man's tortured face as he was lifted in the giant's grip, and he heard a cry that was obviously a very human, pathetic appeal for help.

In a moment Jim forgot all his terror. In his pocket was an ordinary penknife. It was the only weapon he possessed. Taking it out he opened the blade, jumping to his feet as he did so. Then rushing forward, even as the giant was bending down to batter out his captive's brains on the rocky ground, he drove the blade of the knife into the back of that great hand. There was a squeal of pain. As Jim stabbed again desperately, the giant opened his hand and his victim dropped to the ground.

Instantly the man made a dash towards the face of the cliff. Following at his heels, Jim saw him scramble up a slope of some ten feet and then dive like a rabbit into a hole. He heard thundering footsteps behind him, and, ducking instinctively, he saw a huge hand make a scooping clutch at the air above his head. The giant, awakened from his surprise, was pursuing him. He flung himself at the slope of rock, and with the hopeless feeling that there was no escape—that he must be caught—he began to clamber upward. In another moment he must be picked like a snail from a wall and crushed to pieces. He could almost feel that vast hand descending upon him.

And at that moment, from somewhere just above him, a stream of flame seemed to leap from the living rock. He heard a cry behind him, and the next instant he was seized from above and pulled to the top of that rocky slope. A mist gathered before his eyes; a feeling of weakness swept over him, and in another moment oblivion closed down upon his dazed brain.

HE awoke with a cry of terror to find himself lying on some bed, so soft and warm and comfortable, that for a moment he thought he must be back in the Flying Submarine. He sat up, becoming aware as he did so of a coal fire that was burning close at hand, its smoke ascending upwards as if influenced by the draught of a chimney. By its light he saw that he was in some sort of apartment, the smooth rocky walls of which were covered with curious paintings. So much he saw before he became aware of the presence of two other human beings.

One he recognised instantly as the man he had rescued from the giant. The other was a girl about his own age, tall and slim with long dark hair and a face that, though strangely white, was very beautiful. She smiled at him as he stared at her, and then with a glance at the man by her side ran to him, and dropping on her knees, seized his hand and pressed it to her forehead. Before Jim could recover from his surprise, the man approached, grinning in a friendly way.

Whoever these little people were—though they were made in the same proportions as himself, and the man, at any rate, was several inches taller, he instinctively thought of them as the "Little People" in comparison with the giants—they were obviously friendly disposed towards him. He grinned back. The man, whom he saw now was well advanced in life, began to jabber in some language that was incomprehensible to Jim.

"Awfully sorry old chap, but I don't understand a word," he exclaimed presently when the man paused.

The man was clearly taken aback. He turned to the girl, and for a while they talked excitedly to one another Then the girl disappeared for a moment, to return carrying in her hand a slab of slate Seating herself by Jim's side she said something in that curious language, pointing at the same time to the slate. Having by this means focused his attention, she began to trace figures on the slate with amazing quickness.

Jim watched her astonished. By her swiftly moving fingers a whole series of scenes were portrayed. There was a very rough drawing of the giant, who was cleverly suggested in a state of sleep. The next picture showed the man creeping out. Bit by bit the whole adventure was portrayed. Finally Jim himself—he knew the picture was intended to represent himself because the girl drew a very impossible caricature of the boots he was wearing—was shown clambering up the rock and the man was again portrayed with a curious bellows arrangement in his hand, from the spout of which some liquid was pouring.

Having completed this series of drawings, she handed the slate to Jim, looking at him expectantly. Jim had always had a talent for drawing which he had often used to amuse his comrades at school. Realising that she wished him to follow her example, he now tried to turn his skill to some practical account. Very laboriously he drew the outline of the Flying Submarine, indicating Stanislaus Cripps and himself standing on the deck. Next he showed the Flying Submarine in the air and finally floating on the water. Then his task became almost impossible. How to depict that wild rush from the bottom of the ocean bed into this buried world, puzzled him. He drew the Flying Submarine's nose. Glancing up a little hopelessly at the girl, he saw that her eyes were shining with excitement. She turned her head and said something as if to call the man's attention to this very inadequate drawing.

In the next picture he tried to draw the Flying Submarine floating on the water surrounded by the dead fish and the four giants wading out from the shore. No sooner had he finished that picture, than the girl snatched the slate from him, and, pushing it into the man's hand, began to talk excitedly. The man pointed to the first picture and then looked inquiringly at Jim. That look clearly meant: Where do you come from? Jim raised his hand and pointed upwards. The man put his finger on the very clumsy representation of the Flying Submarine and then looked all about him. His pantomime indicated as clearly as if he had spoken that he was inquiring where that mysterious vessel had disappeared to. Jim replied by wiping out the last representation of the Flying Submarine from the slate, and then giving a despairing shrug of his shoulders.

All this pictorial communication took some time, and Jim became suddenly conscious that he was tremendously hungry. The last thing he had eaten, he remembered, had been that breakfast he had shared with Stanislaus Cripps on the deck of the Flying Submarine just previous to their tragic descent beneath the waves. He pointed to his mouth. The man and the girl nodded understanding, and making signs for him to wait hurried out of the chamber.

Left alone Jim had more leisure to examine his surroundings. By the light of the brightly burning coal fire—the smoke of which was carried through an aperture in the roof—he inspected the curious paintings on the walls. One picture particularly held his attention.

It portrayed a huge idol at the feet of which was a big flat rock. Round this rock were gathered a number of giants. On the rock itself stood a very good representation of the white haired giant he had seen only a few hours ago addressing his comrades. In the picture this giant was painted holding one of the Little People by his hair with one hand, while with the other he pressed some instrument to his throat. It was clearly some sacrificial rite that was being performed. The gigantic priest was looking upwards, and from somewhere up above, a yellow streak descended in a slant to the feet of the statue.

He was interrupted in his study of these mural paintings by the girl's return. She carried in her hand a big shining yellow vessel from which came a very pleasant odour. Placing this on the floor, she indicated with a smile that he was to eat. Squatting down, the boy fell to with avidity. The girl watched him gravely until he had finished and then made signs to him to follow her.

Passing out of the doorway, which was cut from solid rock, he found himself in a long tunnel lighted at intervals with rudely constructed lamps. Out of this tunnel spread a net-work of other tunnels. Presently, after covering some two hundred yards, Jim saw that their further progress was barred by a doorway, over which there hung a curtain made of some shining material that glistened like silk. The girl drew this aside and motioned him to pass in.

The next moment Jim found himself in a huge circular vault. Round the walls were tiers and tiers of seats carved out of the rock and rising one above the other. These seats, he saw, were crowded with the Little People. Conscious that they were all staring at him, he hesitated on the threshold somewhat abashed. At that moment the man whom he had rescued from the giant appeared from somewhere, and taking his arm, led him into the centre of this strange stadium. Arrived there, he turned with a grave dignity to the audience and began to address them with ever-growing vehemence. What he was saying was, of course, unknown to Jim, but when presently the man produced from somewhere about his person the penknife Jim had used on the giant's hand, he gathered that he was describing how he had been rescued.

Finally he paused, and then pointing at Jim with dramatic effect, shouted something at the top of his voice. Whatever it was, it seemed to electrify the audience, for they sprang to their feet waving their arms and uttering guttural cries. The man bowed, and then turning to Jim pulled up the sleeve of his coat, partly baring his right arm. With a glance of encouragement, as if to indicate that the action was a friendly one, he drew a long flint knife and made a gash in his own arm until the blood ran. Then he performed a similar operation on Jim's arm, which the boy had the good sense to bear without protest. This done, he let the blood from his own arm drip on to the blood oozing from Jim's skin. As he did so, the whole of the audience started some strange weird chant.

VIII. — THE KRU PEOPLE

JIM had read enough of the habits of primitive races to realise the meaning of this rite. He was being received into blood brotherhood with the Little People. As the result of that lucky impulse, which had made him spring forward to this man's assistance, he had fallen among friends. How good those friends were, he was to learn in the days that followed.

He was no longer a waif—a lonely wanderer in this nightmare world. He slept snugly—he was fed well, and after his late terrifying experiences he had what he valued most—a sense of safety and security.

At first his great difficulty was the one of communication, but by means of that clever pictorial writing which the Little People possessed, he began rapidly to pick up the language. As there was no sunrise or sunset to mark the passage of time, he would have been unable to gauge how long he had been with the Little People before he acquired some knowledge of the language, if it had not been for his watch. By keeping a careful record of each twenty-four hours, he found that he had been there just a month when he had progressed sufficiently to be able to speak in their tongue.

The pretty girl, whom he discovered was the daughter of the man he had rescued, was his very patient instructress. She would draw an object on the slate and then repeat the word for it a dozen times, until he had got it correctly. Gradually his vocabulary increased so that he found himself in a position to exchange ideas. The girl's name was Tinta, and Masra was her father. The Little People were known as the Kru—the very word he had heard used with such contempt by the giant when he had been flung on the pile of fish. The giants were known as the Falta.

For generations untold there had been war between the Kru and the Falta. Tinta, discovering his interest in the history of her people, took him to a vast domed cavernous hall where the records, drawn in mural paintings, were collected. Some of these drawings from their faded colours must have been thousands of years old, Jim reflected.

"We come from up there," Tinta exclaimed, raising her hands above her head. "From somewhere there, there is a bright light. Once the Kru and the Falta were the same, but ages ago they separated, the Falta to the Outer Circle—the Kru to the Inner."

"The Kru have heads on their shoulders. The Falta are foolish. Because they grow bigger and bigger, they think they are the lords of this place. But they are not. It was the Kru who built the great drain, so that they could get food from above. It was the Falta who have seized it, and, because they are so big and strong, seek to hold it against us."

Jim realised that he was listening to the solution of the problem that had so puzzled Stanislaus Cripps. Apparently the Kru, generations ago—at a period which they described as "when they left—the great light"—had discovered that the water of the ocean above percolated through a fissure in the rock.

How or when they had made the further discovery that those dead flattened fish were squeezed through that fissure, Jim never learned, but having lighted upon the fact, that here was a source of food, the Kru had set themselves with great intelligence to develop it. The details were not quite clear to Jim, but generally he gathered that they had constructed a kind of vast drainpipe, which communicated with the bed of the ocean and ended in the lake into which the Flying Submarine had been carried.

By some elementary system of valves, they were able to control the flow of this water, thereby securing a plentiful supply of fish whenever they wanted it. At some period the Falta, glorying in their enormously superior strength, had taken possession of this invention and selfishly used it entirely for their own purpose.

"Ever since then there has been war," Tinta explained. "They keep from us the food, which they would never have eaten had it not been for the Kru. They think because they are so tall and strong, that we do not matter. But little by little, they are learning their mistake. There are about a hundred now. Before there were many more."

The fire jet, Jim discovered, was a curious bellows arrangement which projected a stream of liquid fire, manufactured from certain by-products of the vast coal deposits that abounded in Kru land. As Tinta boasted, the Kru had learned to use their heads. The illuminations of the caves were derived from oil extracted from coal, which, of course, also provided them with their heating and their means of cooking food.

The food puzzled Jim for some time, until Tinta took him a long walk one day to a vast subterranean cavern. As they entered it the boy's eyes were almost dazzled by the strange greenish light that came from the ground. As his sight became accustomed to the light, he saw, stretching before him in the dim distance, what looked like a huge field of mushrooms. They grew as thickly as the blades of grass on a lawn.

"When the Falta take our food the Kru have to think of some other way of living," Tinta exclaimed. "Here is the food we eat. Between the great lights, our food grows anew three hundred and sixty-five times, and we have but to gather it."

She did not use the number "365," but expressed herself by showing all her fingers thirty-six times and then finally adding the five. Jim was struck by a curious coincidence. He inquired what she meant by the words "between the great lights."

"It is a light that comes—a wonderful light such as we do not know down here. We reckon everything by it. When a Kru dies, we say he has seen the great light a hundred times."

"The Falta hold a festival on the coming of the great light. You have seen the picture. Any of the Kru they have caught, whom they think worthy, are kept until that moment and then sacrificed to their god."

Jim recalled the picture he had seen in his chamber—the old giant priest standing at the base of some enormous statue, holding a flint knife to the throat of an unfortunate Kru.

"That's curious, Tinta, because where I come from, we measure, what we call time, by dividing it into three hundred and sixty-five days—that is the time it takes the earth to go round the sun."

It took Tinta some time before she could understand this explanation, but once she had grasped it, she made a remark which astonished Jim by its intelligence.

"The records say that we come from up there. Perhaps we have remembered all these ages."

IX. — WONDERS OF THE UNDERWORLD

THE feast of the great light was drawing near, she told him, and in order to deprive the Falta of any victims for their sacrificial lights, extra precautions were taken by the Kru people. No one was allowed out of the caves; not even the prospect of killing one of their giant enemies was considered an excuse for disobeying this law. Anyone found guilty of disobeying it was sentenced to death.

On the same day that Tinta took him to the Cave of the Mushrooms, she showed him yet another wonder of their underworld civilisation. Jim had been very puzzled by the plentiful supply of a liquid that looked like milk and tasted like milk. Now taking him to an adjoining cavern—they walked through a cutting in the Forest of Mushrooms—she showed him what at first looked to him like an enormous number of white bubbles lying in the ground. Only on examining them closer, he saw that they moved. Tinta touched one of these strange creatures, and it rose instantly with a sluggish motion.

It had four legs—the back pair were the longer, scarcely three feet in length, the front ones not more than a foot. These creatures had absurdly minute heads and no eyes. It was from them that the milk supply was obtained, but it was not until Tinta explained that these animals were traditionally supposed to have come with them from the Great Light, that some possible explanation dawned upon the boy.

These animals might be cows who, through countless generations, had become adapted physiologically to their environment. In the darkness in which they lived they had no use for their eyes, and so their eyes had practically disappeared. As they fed upon the fungi supplied by the Kru—much as turnips are fed to cattle in the winter time—they had no use for motion and their legs had gradually decreased in size. The one function that was essential—the supplying of milk—continued.

Another day Tinta showed him to what further use the Kru had turned their inexhaustible supply of fungi. From those that were not edible—some of them grew to the height of an ordinary tree—the fibre was obtained, out of which the Kru women spun a fine silky yarn, which was woven into the material for their clothes.

One day after Jim had been in the Kru land about four months, Tinta told him that the ban, which forbade any of the Little People to pass out of their own territory, was about to be imposed again. Thinking he would be interested, she asked him to come with her.

He found the Kru people assembled, not in the cavern where he had undergone the rite of blood brotherhood, but in a cave which he never remembered to have seen before. Out of this cave there led a tunnel along which it was only possible for an ordinary man to crawl. It led, so Tinta told him, to that very spot where he had been rescued.

A great curiosity seized upon Jim to view once again that cavernous world where he had suffered so much, and, Tinta, readily falling in with his suggestion, they crawled on their hands and knees along the tunnel. Presently they found themselves kneeling side by side staring out into that strange blue atmosphere. Once more he could see the dark murky waters of the lake on which the Flying Submarine had floated. Once more he glimpsed the great clumsy stone houses that the Falta giants had erected. Far off, too, he glimpsed some of the Falta themselves moving about like huge statues in the azure gloom.

"They have no sacrifice this time for the Feast of the Great Light," Tinta exclaimed with intense vehemence. "Not one of the Kru people has been seized."

Suddenly she gave a little cry of surprise and pointed with her finger into the blue haze.

Following the direction of her gaze, Jim saw a flash of yellow light. It was repeated again and again. Suddenly he rose to his knees, a look of utter astonishment creeping into his face. There was a strange familiarity about those flashes. Dot-dash dot-dot-dash. It was somebody signalling in Morse code. He recognised it instantly, for he had taken a class badge as a scout for signalling. And who in that buried world could be using Morse?

Instantly it dawned upon him and his heart gave a leap. It must be Stanislaus Cripps who was signalling. He fumbled in his coat pocket, and drew out the small electric torch he had brought with him from home. Another moment and he had flashed back the reply that the message was being noted.

"What are you doing?" Tinta exclaimed at his side. "What is that thing that makes the yellow light?"

But he had forgotten Tinta for the moment. He was watching with fixed gaze those dots and dashes that pierced the azure gloom.

"Stanislaus Cripps . . . S.O.S.," came the message in Morse. "Unless you can rescue me at once you will never see me again. I have been sentenced to death by the Falta—they have chosen me as their next sacrifice."

TO Jim the flashes that pierced the azure murk of the Buried World were something more than a mere message transmitted in Morse code. During the months that he had lived with the Kru people, he had begun almost insensibly to adapt himself to that existence. He had come to think that he would have to spend the remainder of his days there, and had tried to make the best of his situation Those flashes coming so unexpectedly out of the void seemed now to sweep his mind clear of such feelings of resignation.

It was as if he had come into contact once again with the world he knew. He was speaking to Stanislaus Cripps—a man however great his scientific genius, who belonged to the same human race as himself.

"Tinta, my friend is over there! Those flashes of light that you see—they're made with an instrument similar to this."

"By those flashes he has just sent me a message, Tinta. He is held prisoner by the Falta, and he has just been telling me that he is to be sacrificed to their god—I suppose at the feast of the coming of the Great Light."

"Can't?" Jim exclaimed. "What on earth do you mean, Tinta? Why, of course, I must. Whatever the risk. I couldn't leave him without making some effort to help him. You see, we're friends."

Even as he uttered those words he had a curious sense of the irony of fate. He was calling Stanislaus Cripps his friend, when in reality the man had intended to swindle his mother.

From the tunnel behind them came the sound of the Kru people chanting in unison.

"The Falta are our enemies. The Falta desire to catch us and sacrifice us at the coming of the Great Light. The Falta god must have no victims. Until the passing of the Great Light no Kru must leave the Inner Cavern. It is decreed. Death to those who disobey!"

He felt a cold shudder pass over his body. Here was a complication he had never anticipated. If he attempted to help Stanislaus Cripps, he could never set foot in the world of the Kru again. To do so would be death.

"But I must, Tinta," he gasped. "I can't leave my friend there helpless, at the mercy of the Falta."

There was something pathetic in that desperate repetition. Before the boy's imagination there rose a picture of Stanislaus Cripps, with his big head and his red, shaggy beard, kept a prisoner by the Falta. He could visualise that great scientific genius being fingered by the giants very much as a farmer examines some fat heifer at a country market.

How Stanislaus Cripps would hate it! How the very consciousness of his own immense superiority to those great brainless creatures would reduce him to a state of almost insane rage! And he was to be sacrificed.

"So many times as the food is gathered and replenished in the cave of the mushrooms."

That was roughly four periods of twenty-four hours, Jim knew, from the calculations he had made by means of his watch. Only four days, and then Stanislaus Cripps would be seized by that terrible old man with the white hair, who acted as high priest of the Falta, and sacrificed to his god. As that thought passed through his mind, he gently freed himself from Tinta's hold, and holding the torch in his hand began to flash a message back.

"Facing the switchboard in the pilot house, the right-hand lever controls the engine, the left-hand lever the air reservoirs. To rise you move the left-hand one—to move horizontally, press the right-hand one. Got that, boy?"

It was strange, but as he painfully de-coded that message it seemed to him that he could almost hear Stanislaus Cripps' booming voice.

"I will begin search at once," he flashed back. "There is still four days. Where are you?"

"Cage at base of idol on left-hand side. Don't fail me, boy. You can signal to me how you progress."

X. — THE SEARCH FOR THE SUBMARINE

THOSE flashes vanished abruptly. Jim lay quite still for a moment and then turned to Tinta. His heart was stirred by a bitter feeling of regret. He must say good-bye to this girl whose friendship and companionship had meant so much to him—he must say good-bye to her for ever! In defiance of the Kru decree he was going out into the world of the Falta. To return would be death. He would never see her again. He caught her warm little hand in his.

"Tinta—I've got to leave you—leave you for ever. I go to try and save a friend—and that means I can never come back."

"Tinta, you've been the dearest friend a boy could ever have. I shall never forget. Goodbye and God bless you."

She caught his arm as he made a movement to slip down out of the cavern and down the sloping rock to the floor of the Outer Cavern.

"But I must go alone. Who is there who would come with me? To leave the Inner Cavern would mean death."

"I will come with you, Krim." she replied simply, using her Kru attempt at his English name of Jim.

"But, Tinta, that's impossible. You could never come back. And you might be seized by the Falta."

He tried to argue with her, but in vain. Instead of paying any attention to his protests she merely began to make plans for their expedition.

"We must have food, Krim—milk in vessels, and we must get somehow a machine for the liquid flame. And we shall not be alone. There will be Masra my father."

Jim protested that such an idea was ridiculous—that Masra no more than she could be expected to abandon his home for ever on his account. The girl looked at him gravely.

"Did you not give Masra his life, and is he not blood brother with you? I go now to find him, and to get what we require. You will stay here till I return?"

Before he quite knew what he was saying, Jim had given the desired promise. Smiling at him she twisted round and disappeared up the tunnel. Jim, left alone, tried to face the situation by which he was confronted.

He was going to put his life deliberately in jeopardy among the giant Falta. There could be no turning back. There was only one answer he could make in honour to that pathetic appeal that Stanislaus Cripps had flashed across the azure world.

He must try and find the Flying Submarine. It seemed a hopeless proposition even supposing that mighty vessel was still in existence. It was conceivable that the Falta had broken it up—crushed it like one crushes an eggshell. That however was not likely, he told himself, recalling the enormous strength of the mysterious metal of which it was constructed. He took heart at that thought. The Flying Submarine must be somewhere. If only he could find it.

But he had only four days. And what was the area he had to search during that very limited time? If he only knew that, it would make his task easier. He could divide the area of search into four portions, and carry out a systematic exploration.

But how was he to discover the information? It suddenly flashed into his mind that perhaps Stanislaus Cripps knew. For many months now he had been a prisoner in the hands of the Falta, and it was inconceivable that one so intensely curious—who was always seeking knowledge—had not discovered many of the secrets of the Outer Cavern. He took out his torch again and flashed the preliminary signal. Almost immediately the answer came back.

"Roughly, yes, boy. From mathematical calculations I have made, I think that it is an ellipse, with its foci at either end of the lake, with a perimeter of a hundred to a hundred and two miles."

Jim digested that information as best he could. It was characteristic of Stanislaus Cripps that he should have admitted simply an error of two miles in his calculations. Assuming that he was right, then he had four days in which to cover that hundred miles—or twenty-five miles a day. Even as he arrived at this conclusion, he felt someone touch his arm. Looking round he saw Masra by his side.

"Masra—Masra," he gasped. "You mustn't. I have no right to take you away from your people."

"You gave me my life. We were made blood brothers in the Hall of the People. Where you go, I go."

As if to decide the matter he pushed past Jim and slid down the ten feet of sloping rock to the floor of the Outer Cavern. He had burnt his boats. He had defied the Kru decree. To go back now meant death. He raised both his hands above his head. In his right was a long yellow javelin. As Jim watched, he suddenly hurled the weapon at the face of the solid rock!

"NO more do I belong to the Kru," chanted Masra. "I am an outcast from the Inner Cavern. I go with him who gave me my life."

A musical laugh sounded in Jim's ears. Tinta had crept to his side, and was smiling at him.

"Where you lead, Masra and I follow," she exclaimed. "There's no going back now, Krim. Look, I have the food and the machine for the liquid fire."

She showed him a big bag she carried, and that strange bellows arrangement by which the Kru people were able to eject a jet of liquid flame. For a moment Jim's heart was too full for words. This loyalty and this friendship, which made Tinta and her father exile themselves for ever from their homes and go out into a world peopled by their terrible enemies, was something so wonderful that it almost took his breath a way.

"I shall never be able to forgive myself if anything happens to you," Jim said, "you and your father shouldn't have done this for me."

"You go out to save your friend, and are not we your friends? Masra and Tinta would never lift up their heads again if they deserted you."

Jim made no reply in words. Instead he caught Tinta's hand and pressed it warmly. The next moment they had both slipped down the rook and had set their feet on the rocky floor of the Outer Cavern.

Half an hour later when they had put about two miles between themselves and the entrance to the Inner Cavern—it was a precaution suggested by Masra in case their flight had been discovered—they halted behind a big boulder, and there Jim outlined the very hazy plans he had formed. They had to search for the Flying Submarine. That was the strange vessel he had drawn for them on the slate that first day of his coming to the Inner Cavern. Tinta nodded her head

"I know, Krim. It goes up there. It floats like the dead fish on the water—it goes under the water."

She made a little dramatic movement with her hands to suggest the Flying Submarine coming head first down the drain from the bed of the ocean.

"That's right, Tinta. We've got to find the Flying Submarine. If we can find it, we shall have no need to fear the Falta any longer. We shall be masters of the Outer Cavern."

"And where do we look?" Masra interrupted. Masra interrupted. "The land of the Falta is wide."

"Not so big as it seems." Jim retorted. "My friend is good at calculations. If we cover a certain distance between each growing and renewing of the food, we can make the circuit of the whole Outer Cavern in the time."

He took his watch from his pocket and described how many times the hands must move round for the period of a day.

"And we have four of those days," he added, "before the coming of the Great Light. It is not as if it is a small thing for which we are looking. Thirty of the Faltas, lying stretched on the ground, head to feet, would hardly reach it's whole length. So you see if we can get near it, we shall see it. We must try and cover the whole distance in the four days."

Between the edge of the Central Lake and the walls of the cavern that disappeared into the darkness above them, there was a distance of nearly six miles. Assuming that the great bulk of the Flying Submarine would be visible at a distance of at least two miles, Jim deployed his little party so that they advanced across the ground separated from one another by intervals of a mile.

To keep in touch with one another, they arranged a system of signals. Owing to the pressure of the air in the Cavern Jim had discovered that sound carried much further than in the outer word. The dropping of a stone could he heard miles away. It was possible therefore to communicate by cries.

It was arranged that in the event of Masra and Tinta being in any danger, they should warn Jim, who marched in the centre of the line, so that he might flash the news by the aid of his electric torch. When they had covered their allotted distance for the day they were to close in and take cover for the night.

Jim's course took him through the heart of that Falta settlement, where he had seen the great houses built of clumsy boulders, and had glimpsed one of the giants engaged in cooking food in a titanic cauldron over a fire. When last he had been there, such had been his terror that he had crawled for nearly half a mile on his hands and knees. But the months spent among the Kru had hardened his body and toughened his nerves. Like the Little People he had developed a profound contempt for the intelligence of the Falta.

He approached the group of enormous stone huts with hardly more than that delicious thrill of terror with which a child enters a dark room. Flitting from boulder to boulder, he gained at last the rear of one of them. The huge stones of which they were made were innocent of any mortar, and through the gaps between them, he was able to peer into the interior. It was empty; and passing on to the next hut, he discovered that that was in a similar condition. For some reason or other the Falta had left that settlement.

XI. — BEHIND THE IDOL

KEEPING careful note of the time by his watch, and reckoning their rate of progress at three miles an hour, he pushed on. When over eight hours had elapsed, he made the agreed signal with his lamp and squatting down on the ground, waited until he was joined by Tinta and Masra. Like himself they had nothing to report. They had not seen any of the giants nor the Flying Submarine.

"The Falta have gathered together for the Feast of the Great Light," Masra exclaimed. "It is their custom. They will be waiting at the feet of their god. When we set out again after our period of sleep, we shall have to pass among them. It is then that we shall have to be careful."

Crawling under the boulders, they slept. When they awoke Tinta lit a fire and prepared the food. While this was being done, Jim got into communication with Stanislaus Cripps with the aid of his torchlight and reported the progress they had made.

"Boy," came back the answer, "you must not fail me. It would be an irreparable loss to science if anything were to happen to me. The Falta, who number eighty, are collected here in honour of some approaching religious rite, of which, I understand, I am to be the central figure."

Jim could only flash back that he would do his best—that if it were possible to find the Flying Submarine, he would find it.

That day, after he had eaten, they proceeded with more caution. They had covered some eighteen miles when Jim halted abruptly with a sudden feeling of indescribable horror. Looking up by chance, he had seen a great expressionless face, staring down at him from the azure murk.

For some moments he thought he must be in the presence of a super-giant, but as his startled nerves grew more steady, he realised that what he was looking at was the upper portion of that huge idol, which he had seen depicted on the walls of the Inner Cavern,

It was the most terrible face he had ever seen. It was the face of a demon carved out of stone. The great eyes seemed to look down at him with a fiendish greed, and the enormous lips were suggestive of some being ravenously hungry and waiting for the kill.

So high was the statue, that, seen in the shadows, the great head had the appearance of being suspended In the air. It was only on looking closer that he could make out the outlines of the figure. It stood erect, its feet set firmly on a great slab of stone—the stone which he knew from the mural paintings was the place of sacrifice.

And all round this stone the Falta squatted—some apparently asleep, some kneeling as if engaged in devotions. They were about two miles away, he estimated, and yet he could hear the sound of their breathing.

Here was a situation in which he must obviously take counsel with his companions. Making the signal, he was presently joined by Masra and Tinta. It was agreed among them that they must pass to the rear of the statue; to attempt to make the passage in front would inevitably result in their being seen by the giants.

Having eaten some food they pressed on, Jim being determined that they should get clear of the neighbourhood of the idol before they rested. They kept closer together now, Jim, for the moment more anxious, if the truth be told, to avoid the Falta than to find the Flying Submarine.

An hour later and they had crept within the shadow of the statue. So vast was it, that all behind it was in darkness—a fact for which Jim at least was grateful. Now they could see the giants close at hand, their vast limbs—their huge heads and their foolish faces.

One seated by the side of the idol was feeding enormous handfuls of food into his mouth, devouring, while they watched him, what must have been at least a hundredweight of some kind of sustenance.

Jim shuddered as he saw those long yellow fangs behind the big blubbering lips. The very grossness of the giant was so unnatural as to be shocking.

Behind the statue they paused, not daring to speak. Jim looking about him, saw at the side of the statue's base what looked like a huge cage made of some yellow metal. Even as he watched he saw one of the giants thrust his great hand through the bars and catch something.

The next moment, with his face pressed against the bars, he was examining his catch. Suddenly, Jim was startled by the sound of a familiar voice. It came booming through the still air.

"Fool—gross fool! To think that Fate should allow a hypertrophied moron—an exaggerated idiot—the Colossus of brutal ignorance—to treat a great man like this! Fool! Fool! if ever my chance comes. I will bind you in chains of slavery, even as Jupiter is said to have bound the Titans!"

It was Stanislaus Cripps. Undoubtedly it was Stanislaus Cripps. Quite apart from the booming voice, the exaggerated way in which he spoke would have betrayed him. Evidently he was talking more for his own self-esteem than in any hope that his insults would be understood by the giant. It was Stanislaus Cripps' gesture of protest against the cruel fate that had befallen him.

Jim saw the giant poke a finger of his disengaged hand between the bars. His action was followed instantly by a squeal of pain and indignation. Then, as if his curiosity were satisfied, the giant released his victim and stood back licking his lips.

Jim touched Masra on the arm, and motioning to Tinta, they crept onwards. For two hours by Jim's watch they trekked forward, and having more than completed their allotted distance for the day, laid themselves down to rest in a little cave formed by two boulders. In spite of his terrifying experiences, Jim no sooner lay down than he fell asleep.

He was awakened by a hard, warm little hand placed across his lips. He sat up to find Tinta kneeling by his side. In that unearthly light her face looked curiously rigid. Following the direction of her eyes, Jim saw Masra crouched at the further end of the little cave with his spear ready in his hand. He was obviously on the alert against some danger that threatened; but what that danger was, Jim was at first unable to discover. And then he saw.

XII. — THE SUBMARINE FOUND

THROUGH the opening between the two boulders something was being thrust—something that looked like the tentacles of an enormous octopus. They were five in number and they sawed at the air as if groping for something. Then Jim realised that those tentacles were attached to what looked like a pinkish blue pillar in that strange light. With a shock of terror he understood all.

One of the Falta had tracked them down, either by chance or by some hunting instinct which these giants possessed. He was lying there outside their cave, thrusting his great arm in as a boy thrusts his careless hand into a bird's nest.

Tinta shook her head and pointed helplessly to that curious bellows-like machine which they had left with their bag of food near the entrance of the cave. They could not get to it without being caught. And now the hand was drawing nearer to Masra. Jim felt Tinta cling to him as if for support. One of those fingers had touched Masra's foot, and then paused suspended, as if trying to decide whether it had at last touched what it sought, or not. The next instant that vast arm was thrust further into the cave and the giant's hand closed about Masra's legs.

Instantly the Kru struck with his spear. Jim saw a spout of blood spring like a fountain from that pinkish blue flesh. There was a squeal of pain. Before Masra could strike again he was jerked from his feet and the giant's arm was drawn back, gripping its victim.

Jim heard Tinta crying, and the sound braced him to an act of courage from which in cold blood he would have shrunk. Putting the girl aside he rushed at Masra, and caught him under the arms. Flinging himself backwards and bracing his feet against the two sides of the cave, he managed to stay his progress.

That sudden opposition must have puzzled the giant, for with the simple curiosity of a child, he thrust his huge face into the opening of the cave as if to discover the cause of the obstruction. Jim found himself looking into those saucer-like eyes.

Once when he was younger be had found a baby owl and brought it up. He remembered how its eyes had been dilated, just like the giant's, and how helpless and blind it had been in the sunlight. Jim was quite helpless—he could no more have withstood the slightest pull exercised by the giant, than he could have stayed the onrush of an avalanche. He had no weapon. But there was his flash lamp in his pocket, and that recollection of his pet owl and its behaviour when he took it into the sunlight gave him his great idea.

Taking a hand from under Masra's arm, he produced the torch, and, pressing the catch, leaned forward so that the rays of the electric light shone, with their full glare on those distended eyes. He saw the giant blink—try to turn away his head—give vent to a little cry, and then releasing Masra draw back quickly into the darkness beyond.

Even as he did so Tinta leapt to the liquid fire machine. Holding it in her hand she made for the exit to the cave. Springing to his feet, Jim rushed after her, calling to her frantically to come back.

But the girl seemed deaf to his appeals. Now she had passed the entrance to the little cave. Following quickly in her tracks, Jim saw the giant standing some twenty feet away, rubbing his eyes with his hands, as if he was still blinded by the glare of the electric torch.

He made a grab at the girl's arm. Even as he did so, from out of the spout of the apparatus there was projected a jet of flame. It struck the giant on his left side in the region of his heart. Jim heard a dreadful sizzling noise, followed by the horrible stench of burnt flesh. It seemed to him, as he watched, that a hole was eaten away in the giant's side, even as the flame of the deadly oxy-acetylene blow-pipe eats its way through steel.

He saw the giant reel on his feet, put his hands with a pathetic clumsiness to his side, as if to guard himself from that cruel pain, and then fall back with a thud that awoke the echoes of the Buried World.

Before Jim could recover from his astonishment and horror at the deadly effects of this Kru weapon, he felt Masra touch his arm.

"Let's make speed, Krim, while yet there is time. The Falta will have heard and will follow us."

Keeping his head even in that emergency, Masra seized the bag of food and bounded out of the cave. Without a second's delay Jim and Tinta followed him hot foot.

Behind them they could hear the thunderous thud of the Falta's footsteps in pursuit. The ground shook beneath their onrush. Glancing over his shoulder, Jim could see them, a serried mass of Titanic figures, advancing through the gloom. It seemed to him that they could never hope to avoid capture. At each stride they covered four or five yards to their miserable thirty-three inches.

That meant that, given a four miles start, the giants were capable of overtaking them before they had covered a mile! And now less than a thousand yards separated them. He saw that Tinta was lagging behind, and, turning, he took her hand. At any rate, he would die with this girl, who had given up everything for his sake.

The front rank of the giants was now only a hundred yards away. Sixty more paces and they would have caught them. He was running at the top of his speed, dragging Tinta after him. And then the unexpected happened.

The Falta had reached the spot where their dead comrade lay. At the sight of him, they halted, and set up a wail which rang like the cry of sea-gulls through the vast cavern. Masra, who was leaping among the boulders ahead of them, looked back, waving to them excitedly. With a last effort of his strength, Jim dragged Tinta forward, and gained the man's side. Masra pointed to a hole in the mess of boulders.

"See, there is a rock there," he gasped. "If we can cover the hole with that, the Falta are so foolish that they will never find us. Help me, Krim."

Having made Tinta descend the hole. Jim turned to assist Masra in moving the small rock that was to conceal their hiding place. Balancing it on the edge of the hole, and, still holding it with their hands, they let themselves down through the aperture. Then they lowered the stone, so that it half hid their place of concealment.

They had hardly done this, than the rocky surface above them resounded with the pounding of the Falta's feet. They could hear their high pitched, whining voices and the slobbering of their lips. They cowered there in the darkness and listened.

FOR nearly two hours the giants searched and searched for their prey. But as Masra had rightly assumed, their intelligence was so negligible, that they never dreamed of lifting any of the rocks to see if those they sought were hidden there.

One fact only seemed to have dawned upon them—one deduction their gross minds were alone capable of making from the set of circumstances—and that was, that the Kru must be hiding somewhere, and that if they waited long enough, they would come out and be caught.

Presently a curious silence fell, save for the massed breathing of the giants. Jim, peering through a crevice could see them seated around their hiding place, waiting and watching stolidly.

"How am I going to find the Flying Submarine?" he asked Masra. "My friend is relying on me to help him."

Jim sunk down on a rock and buried his face on his hands. He felt very near to tears, as he thought of the terrible fate that must now inevitably await Stanislaus Cripps. The man had trusted him—yet here he was virtually a prisoner in the cave. In his despair, he heard Tinta's voice soft and pleading and musical.

"Do not be sorrowful, Krim. The Falta must leave some time before the coming of the Great Light, and maybe we shall yet find what you seek in time."

But her words failed to comfort the boy. For sixty hours now they had been searching for the Flying Submarine and had not discovered it. How could they expect to find it in the brief time between the raising of their siege and the moment when Stanislaus Cripps would be sacrificed to that demon god?

"It's no use, Tinta," he gasped. "I've cut you off from your people—I have condemned you to this wretched life—and all to no purpose."

It was then, Jim saw, by glancing at his watch, half-way through the third day. They had but thirty-six hours left. Stanislaus Cripps was doomed, he told himself. It seemed to him that it would be better to risk capture by the Falta, than to lie skulking there in that hole doing nothing. But both Tinta and Masra counselled patience, and Jim had perforce to wait.

Slowly the time went by. Another twelve hours passed. In twenty-four more the feast of the Coming of the Great Light would begin. But still the Falta kept watch and guard on their hiding place. They could hear them from time to time whispering among themselves in those strange high pitched voices. Jim sat with his watch in his hand. An eternity seemed to elapse. Tinta prepared food and they ate, but the boy was unconscious of doing so. Only twelve hours more. Now eleven. Now ten.

But they did not go till there was but two hours left; then they heard the thundering of their footsteps as they rose and disappeared into the distance. Jim was the first up the little shaft, and with a violent shove of his shoulder had pushed the rock aside. The next instant he was clambering over the boulders. Almost mad with despair he rushed blindly on, hardly seeing where he was going. He could hear his companions behind him, but he took no heed of them. He was like one demented. He had failed Stanislaus Cripps!

Suddenly a cry made him halt. He turned round dazedly. There was Tinta, her figure very erect, standing on a boulder pointing into the distance.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, his limbs seeming to act automatically under the urgency of her summons, Jim scrambled wearily to her side. Then abruptly, the blood rushed to his head and raced tumultuously in his veins. There, not a mile away, lying like a great green bubble on a level stretch of the rocky floor, was the Flying Submarine. Wonderfully—miraculously—they had found it at last!

He glanced at his watch. There was still a little time before the hour fixed for the sacrifice to the demon god. Could they reach the Flying Submarine, set her floating in the air, and drive her to the scene of the Falta's demon rites, in time to save Stanislaus Cripps?

THE Flying Submarine was resting on a smooth surface of rock. It measured two hundred yards from stem to stern and rose at its centre to a height of three hundred feet. Even in that moment of tense anxiety, Jim's mind was filled with the wonder of Stanislaus Cripps' invention.

He had found it again, and now all that was needed was to get on board and carry out the instructions he had received for its navigation. With a cry of delight he rushed towards it, calling excitedly to Tinta and Masra.

Racing at the top of his speed, he reached the spot in less than four minutes, Tinta and her father following close at his heels. But when at last he reached the vessel, touched the cold metal sides and stood in the shadow of its great bulk, a feeling of utter despair swept over him.

Jim turned with haggard face and haunted eyes to Tinta, who had crept to his side and was regarding him with an anxious expression. How could he tell her the appalling truth? She and her father had exiled themselves for ever from the homes of their people to help him find the Flying Submarine, relying on his word that once they had found it they would be masters of this buried world, and now, when they had found it, he had to confess that he hadn't the slightest idea how to get on board.

Somehow he had always figured the Flying Submarine as he had seen it last—floating on the lake, its deck almost flush with the surface of the water. It would have been so easy to step aboard in such circumstances. But the Flying Submarine, lying cast up on the land, was a very different proposition to tackle.

The deck, with its port hole that gave admission to the pilot house, was three hundred feet above his head—just sixty-five feet less than the dome of St. Paul's would have been for him if he had stood on the top of Ludgate Hill.

In that case he might have been able to climb, after much labour, to the summit of St. Paul's dome, had he been an acrobat or a steeplejack; but even the most skilled climber would have found the smooth, bellying sides of the Flying Submarine an impossibility.

When he had first seen the Flying Submarine, Stanislaus Cripps had been loading stores into her hole through a doorway immediately situated at the base of her great curved sides. But where was that doorway?

Realising the necessity for action, he turned from Tinta and began to feel along the smooth sides of the ship in the vain hope of discovering that door. To the naked eye it appeared as if there were no break in that solid mass of moulded metal.

And yet there was a door there. It was through an opening in that side that he had pursued Stanislaus Cripps in his determination to get a settlement of his mother's account for sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny. But he couldn't find it; and even if he did find it, he reflected, he did not know how to open it. All he remembered was that it opened outwards, but he looked in vain for any trace of a hinge on that smooth surface.

It was useless to try to explain to Tinta the predicament in which he found himself. He knew nothing of doors and nothing of the complicated mechanism which controlled the Flying Submarine.

It was in his mind that perhaps he might reach one of the blades of the propeller and pull himself aboard; but he realised the hopelessness of that plan as soon as he gained the end of the vessel. The beautifully-shaped, pointed bow was just one hundred and fifty feet above his head. Huge as the blade of the propeller was, it was still a hundred and thirty feet beyond his reach.

He looked despairingly at his watch. Of the twenty minutes that had remained before the coming of the Great Light, there were only fourteen left. What was he to do? To discover unaided the secret of that door was out of the question.

Only the inventor of the Flying Submarine knew how it was manipulated. If only he could communicate with Stanislaus Cripps! But the probability was that he was already awaiting death on the sacrificial stone. There was no other possible solution, however, of the problem—no other course that he could take.

Looking back, he saw that on their journey they had been moving in a curve. Now he found that from where he stood he was half-facing the great idol. He could see that huge, carven figure with its great face staring down at him from the blue shadows of the vast vault. There was the sacrificial stone.

Of the Falta, not one was to be seen. He took hope at that discovery. If the giants had not assembled, then the probability was that their victim was still in his cage. He fingered the catch of his lamp. For some dreadful seconds there was no reply.

And then, with an intensity of relief that almost brought the tears to his eyes, he saw the answering signal. Stanislaus Cripps was still in his cage—still at liberty to communicate with him.

He dared not waste time over any details describing the finding of the Flying Submarine.

The flashes stopped abruptly. From the distance it seemed to him that he could hear a growl of rage, and at the same moment he saw the vast figures of the Falta rise in serried ranks about the sacrificial stone.

XIII. — IN THE GRIP OF A GIANT

"BUTTON. Keel." The two words rang in Jim's head. He remembered now that, in order to allow the Flying Submarine to rest on the ground without straining her structure, two keels were fixed on her sides at an angle. They were huge strips of metal, about twelve feet broad, and Jim recalled how Stanislaus Cripps, amongst the enormous amount of information he had hurled at him during their brief journey together, had described how these keels were constructed on some ingenious buffer plan by which they absorbed the shock of any forced, or clumsy, landing.

There was a button in the keel which, when pressed, opened the door. He had got the information he wanted; all that remained was to turn it to account.

Thrusting the torch into his pocket, he swung round to race back the hundred yards that separated him from where he had left Tinta and Masra.

Even as he did so a sight met his eyes which quenched instantly the flame of hope that had begun to burn in his heart. Striding towards his unwitting companions from behind was one of the giants. Jim could see those blazing eyes and the vast, bulbous, slobbering lips. A great arm was stretched out; and at that his trance of terror was broken, and be cried out at the top of his voice.

But even as he uttered those words and sprang forward, that great hand closed about the figures of the man and the girl. He saw Tinta make a violent effort to unsling the liquid fire apparatus that she carried over her shoulder, and the giant, as if anticipating her intentions, tear it away with his disengaged hand.

The Falta was glowering down at them, the point of his great thumb almost covering one side of Tinta's pretty face. Realising that he was utterly powerless in his present position to help them—that until he could get aboard the Flying Submarine he could do nothing—Jim slipped under the bottom of the machine. Even as he did so he heard Tinta's despairing voice.

Almost it sounded as if she were accusing him of having deserted her! The boy forced back the mad despair that threatened to rob him of all power of action. His only hope was to get aboard the Flying Submarine.

For ninety yards he raced under the curved bottom of the great vessel, until he reached a spot where he saw the keels approaching their contact with the ground. Now he knew he was courting death. He must slip out of his place of concealment and face the giant.

With his heart pounding painfully against his ribs, he slid under the keel. The first thing he saw on coming out into the open was the giant's great right foot. The sight almost unnerved him. Only by refusing to look up—by desperately turning his back on that threatening danger—was he able to attempt the task which must be done. There was just a hope that, standing so near him he might avoid the giant's notice, just as an insect might crawl safely at a man's feet without being observed. Resolutely he turned his face to the keel, sliding his trembling lingers along it until he felt a little lump in that smooth surface.

He touched it, and instantly an aperture appeared in the great bellying sides of the Flying Submarine. With a gasp of immense relief he flung himself through that doorway.

As he did so he heard a little whining grunt. Something clutched at his legs. He swung round swiftly. The giant had thrust his hand through the opening and the top joints of his fingers closed about his boots.

He tugged with all his might, but the powerful prehensile upper joints of that vast hand held their grip. Was everything going to be lost just at the moment when he had recovered possession of the Flying Submarine? He was being dragged towards the threshold of the door.

And at that desperate moment, the Fates, that had been so unkind, intervened to save him. Even as he was being dragged across the floor, his fingers came into contact with a weapon lying there.

It was an ordinary, homely axe, which Stanislaus Cripps had used to open the cases and casks which held his food supplies. Jim gripped the handle, and, reaching round, struck viciously with all his strength at the giant's wrist. He felt the metal bite into the flesh; he heard a little slobbering whine of pain, and then the grip on his foot was released.

He jumped up and, still with the axe in his hand, raced for the staircase. Even as he began to ascend that spiral he shouted encouragement to Tinta, hoping that his words would reach the girl's ears.

To ascend three hundred feet by a flight of stairs at any great speed is a feat of considerable physical endurance. By the time he had reached the pilot house, Jim was dizzy and almost blind with the violent beating of his heart. But he was there—there at last.

Jim glanced at his watch. There were just three minutes left—three minutes in which to set the Flying Submarine floating in the air, rescue Tinta and Masra and speed to the aid of Stanislaus Cripps.

He braced himself for the final effort. His brain now was curiously lucid as he turned and faced the switchboard. Stanislaus Cripps' instructions were clearly imprinted on his mind. Very cautiously he moved the left-hand lever. The hand of a dial immediately in front of him begun to gyrate. He saw that it registered fifty. That meant that he was fifty feet above the ground.

He glanced at the surface of the white-topped table on which the periscope recorded all that lay below the vessel. He had a vision of the giant's face looking up with a kind of hopeless perplexity. He could see Tinta, with her hands before her eyes, and Masra, held in that giant grip. Jim clenched his teeth. Now was the moment for vengeance.

VERY carefully Jim moved back the lever that controlled the air reservoirs. He saw the hand of the dial register forty feet. He estimated exactly the distance he had had to move the lever for each of those descents of ten feet.

With a jerk he thrust the lever back a corresponding space. The Flying Submarine sank suddenly beneath his feet. There was a slight jar. Swinging round he stared at the periscope record. The sight he saw filled his heart with elation.

Like a blacksmith's hammer, with that last drop, the Flying Submarine had struck the giant on the crown of the head, smashing it like an eggshell. He saw the Colossus reel and his legs sag.

The next moment he was lying stretched prone upon the ground. Without waiting a moment, Jim clambered up the ladder that led through the aperture in the roof of the pilot house and gained the deck. Leaning over the rail, he was just in time to see Tinta and Masra struggle from the giant's death grip.

"Tinta—Masra!" he called. "I'm coming down. You must climb in through the hole you will see. You must be quick, because I have to save my friend."

Without another word he bolted back to the pilot house and, pushing the lever to its zero point, felt the huge vessel alight on the ground. He had a vision of Tinta and Masra, as portrayed by the shadows on the white-topped table, racing towards the side of the Submarine. With his watch in his hand he waited a few moments, and then sent the Flying Submarine up into the air.

Of that crowded twenty minutes which had elapsed since his first finding of the Flying Submarine, fifty seconds remained—fifty seconds in which to get to the place of sacrifice and rescue Stanislaus Cripps from the clutches of the Falta's high priest!

Jim swung over the right-hand lever. Instantly the engines sprang into life and the great propeller began to revolve.

Taking his stand by the periscope table, he manipulated the small wheel which controlled the rudder In a flash it seemed he had passed over that boulder-strewn ground which they had covered with such toil and labour. Now, just below him, he could see the foreshortened outline of that demon idol.

He stopped the engines, but in his experience he had forgotten the tremendous way the vessel had gathered. In a fraction of a second she had shot past the spot.

He turned her in a graceful curve, and, recalling the mistake he had made, let her slide back through the air under her own momentum. Gradually the idol came once more into view. Slower and slower the Flying Submarine moved. Now he could see the fringe of the sacrificial stone and the serried ranks of the Falta standing there, their great hands raised above their heads as it in adoration. From the open port-hole above his head came a cry like the screaming of sea gulls.

Now, in the shadow-record, Jim could see immediately below him the white head of the high priest. He was standing there in the centre of that big, crowded space, even as he had been pictured in that mural painting that the boy had inspected. He was looking upwards, not at the great vessel, but at that faint pinprick of light far above, which Jim had once thought a star. In one hand he held the protesting, struggling figure of Stanislaus Cripps.

Jim could see the familiar long, red, shaggy beard which flowed in a cascade over the giant's hand. The Falta high priest was standing in a posture of attention, a knife held at Stanislaus Cripps' throat, waiting as if for some signal from above. Grimly Jim told himself he should have that signal.

Estimating the high priest's height as twenty feet. Jim determined to repeat the manoeuvre which had already been so successful in rescuing Tinta and Masra. Swinging the air control lever back till it was almost at zero, he caused the Flying Submarine to descend swiftly, and then, moving the lever in the opposite direction again, he abruptly restored the vessel's buoyancy.

The effect was very much the same as that of a rubber ball bounced on the ground. He felt a slight jar, and then as the Flying Submarine sprang upwards again, the record on the white-topped table showed him the Falta high priest lying prone on the sacrificial stone, and the little figure of Stanislaus Cripps clambering for all he was worth up the legs of the idol.

At the same moment, Jim saw something else—something that amazed him. Suddenly, from far away above him a ray of vivid golden light streamed downwards. It lit first the monstrous face of the idol, turning it into a mask of horror.

Then it began to pass slowly down the full extent of that huge graven figure, illuminating, as if it had been a searchlight, the enormous arms, the massive folded hands, and finally its feet. Another moment, and in the very centre of the sacrificial stone was lit up like the stage of a theatre. But only for a moment.

The next instant the beam of light had traversed the stone, and, following the axis of that ellipse, in which the vast cavern was shaped, had passed right across the Buried World, traversed the waters of the lake, shone for a moment on the glittering cliffs beyond, and then abruptly vanished, leaving behind the dull blue, phosphorescent atmosphere!

XIV. — FOILING THE FALTA

JIM watched this phenomenon, spell-bound, until it had disappeared, and then he awoke to the situation with which he had to grapple. During the passage of that beam of light, the Falta had stood with bowed heads about the sacrificial stone, seeming so motionless that they might have been vast, graven statues, that they had been unconscious of the Fate that had overtaken their high-priest; or, perhaps the regulations governing this mysterious rite, forbade them to move until the passing of the great light. But as that beam vanished, they seemed suddenly to spring into movement.

Again there rose that cry like the screaming of seagulls. As if moved by one common impulse, they swarmed on to the sacrificial stone where the high priest lay crushed, the blood streaming from his battered head. The Falta crowded about his figure looking stupidly into one another's faces.

Then one of them must have caught a glimpse of Stanislaus Cripps, who was in vain attempting to climb the legs of the idol. For, reaching out his hand, he scooped him up like a man catches a fly crawling on a wall.

Jim could hear that indignant, booming voice, and it made him realise that his task was not yet accomplished. Moving the air control lever, he began to descend slowly. He had no desire to take more life than was absolutely necessary. Now that those last desperate moments had passed, when he had been forced to act, and act swiftly, he shrank from the spilling of blood.

Singling out the giant who had taken Stanislaus Cripps in his hand, he allowed the Flying Submarine to settle on his head like some enormous beetle. For a moment the Falta seemed unconscious of its presence. Gradually Jim filled the reservoirs with air. As the weight on his head increased, the giant stooped, looking up dazedly. The next instant, with a little whimpering cry, he had dropped Stanislaus Cripps and had leapt off the sacrificial stone.

The Flying Submarine, released abruptly from its support, descended swiftly a few feet, until its buoyancy asserted itself, and during this descent it played havoc with the massed ranks of the Falta. The giants were sent reeling right and left.

As they fled, panic-stricken, they put up their hands and thrust at this strange portent that had come among them, causing the vessel to gyrate wildly. The next instant the sacrificial stone was deserted, save for one strangely small figure that stood there looking upwards, gesticulating wildly.

Jim moved the air control lever back to its zero point, allowing the Flying Submarine to settle gently on the sacrificial stone. Almost immediately, from below, there floated up the spiral staircase that familiar booming voice that Jim had never expected to hear again.

He rushed to the head of the stairs. In a few seconds Stanislaus Cripps' head and shoulders became visible.

He was walking slowly and breathing heavily, and when at last he reached the pilot house, he sank exhausted on the floor, leaning with his back against the wall, his red beard rising and falling with the movements of his lungs.

"Obesity, boy! Another month and I must have died of fatty degeneration! Now I know exactly how a chicken that is being fattened for market must feel."

He treated Jim to a friendly grin. Looking at him the boy noticed that he had in truth become enormously fat. A huge double chin protruded over his collar—which was quite the filthiest collar he ever remembered having seen—and his body seemed to be bursting through his worn tweed suit.

"Their idea seems to have been that when they gave their god a meal, it should be a good one—especially as they were going to dine off the victim themselves." he exclaimed calmly, in reply to Jim's look of inquiry. "I've been stuffed, boy."

"You've managed wonderfully, boy. Your conduct affords an excellent illustration of what can be accomplished by mental concentration. I confess that when, a few minutes ago, I saw your signal, I thought you were going to be too late—But we can talk of all that when I have bathed and shaved and put on some clean clothes."

"Better close that, boy. If any of these hypertrophied beings were to recover from their fright and come back, they might start throwing rocks; and if one did drop in there, it might do considerable damage."

He touched an electric button, and the great screw cap, that had remained in its place on deck all those months, slipped back into the aperture, and, revolving slowly, screwed itself into position. Stanislaus Cripps grinned at Jim.

"Now that the front door and the back door are both closed, I think I can go and attend to my toilet in safety."

"Don't boy! You're as inconsiderate as the steward who asked the sea-sick passenger if he would like a nice fat pork chop. I don't want to see food for days. I have been consuming, under compulsion, ten times as many carbohydrates and proteids as the human body requires. I must fast, boy."

Following him down the spiral staircase, Jim heard him turning on the water in the bath-room—an apartment differing only from the ordinary everyday bath-room in certain particulars.

The bath was on a level with the floor, and the bather descended into it by steps. The water was obtained from the reservoirs on board, which acted partly as ballast.

Leaving Stanislaus Cripps to his ablutions, of which he obviously stood in so much need, and mentally determining to follow his example as soon as possible, Jim raced down the spiral staircase.

Stanislaus Cripps must have switched on the lights, for each floor was flooded with illumination—a glare which Jim found somewhat trying after the many months he had spent in the blue, subdued light of the Buried World. Reaching the head of the last flight, he looked down into the store-room.

An utterly unexpected scene met his eyes. Side by side, prone upon the floor, lay Masra and Tinta, with their hands clasped about their foreheads. For a moment Jim thought something must have happened to them—that possibly they had received some serious injury from the giant's rough handling, and overcome by pain and exhaustion, had dropped fainting to the floor.

To his immeasurable relief he saw the girl stir and raise her face, that looked even more strangely bleached now in the glare of the electric light. He could see a kind of horror in her dark eyes as she met his gaze. He rushed down the remaining steps and, gaining her side, dropped on his knees.

"Tinta—oh, Tinta! What is the matter? Are you hurt? Did that beastly Falta do you any injury?"

He had put his arms about her protectingly, and she cuddled closer to him, slipping her hard, warm little hand into his.

"Oh, Krim, I am afraid. Suddenly there came the Great Light, and it does not pass. It stays here. Oh, Krim, what does it mean?"

SUDDENLY Jim understood, and an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh seized upon him. Of course, these Kru people had never seen electric light before. They were accustomed only to the glow of their coal fires and the perpetual blue dusk of the Inner Cavern. No wonder they had been frightened when Stanislaus Cripps had switched on the electric light.

"It is a light that we make ourselves—like your fires, Tinta. You are quite safe. Look—I will show you!"

He helped her to her feet and led her across the floor to where, on the wall, there was a switch which controlled the electric light in the store-room.

He raised the switch. As the store-room was plunged in darkness, he heard Tinta give a little cry of surprise.

"Masra," she called, "Masra! There is nothing we need fear. Krim can do as he will with the great light."

"These are marvellous things, Krim. You must be a great magician. Where do you keep the Great Light?"

Jim realised that it was useless to attempt to make any explanation that would involve a description of how the electric light was generated.

"We make it as you make your fires, Masra, only we have learnt the art of storing it up. Look—you have only to pull that down, and you will see that you yourself can control the light."

Very gingerly Masra pulled the switch down, and his delight was intense when the powerful arc lamps in the ceiling scattered the darkness. When they had amused themselves for some time switching the light on and off, Jim asked them if they were hungry.

"We have lost the bag with the food," Tinta exclaimed despondently. "The Falta tore it from Masra's hand and we had no time to look for it."

"There's plenty of food on board, Tinta. Come along with me and I'll show you how we cook it."

Having found a tinned tongue—it bore a gummed label with the legend "Maitland, General Stores, Stagmore," which gave his heart a little queer twist—he cut some rashers of bacon.

Then he led the way up the spiral stairs, listening with a curious feeling of pleasure to Tinta's cries of amazement.

In the kitchen he showed her the electrical cooking apparatus, and made her sit by his side while he fried the bacon. Ten minutes later they were seated in the dining-room, devouring the tinned tongue and the bacon with ship's biscuits, washed down with cups of tea.

To the two Kru people, accustomed though they were to the practice of the culinary art, the food they were eating was a delightful mystery. Tinta especially licked her lips over the sugar that she found in the bottom of her teacup. It was the first sugar she had ever tasted.

Jim was laughingly placing lump after lump in her mouth, when the door opened and Stanislaus Cripps appeared. He had shaved those portions of his cheeks that were not usually covered with hair. He had trimmed his red beard to its customary proportions, and he was wearing a brand new tweed suit of plus fours, that were obviously part of the stock that he had obtained on credit from various confiding tradesmen, for he had forgotten to remove the cardboard label stitched to the knickerbockers and coat. While Tinta and Masra stared at him in astonishment, Jim hastily rose to make the necessary introductions.

"This is Masra, and this is Tinta," he exclaimed, then, adding in the Kru language: "This is my friend whom I came to find."

As Tinta and Masra bowed gravely, with that dignity which characterised all their movements, Jim hastily explained where the visitors came from, and how he had come in touch with them. When he related the circumstances under which Masra and Tinta had left the Inner Cavern, thereby exiling themselves from home for ever in order to help him in his search for the Flying Submarine, Stanislaus Cripps took one of Masra's hands and shook it as if it were a pump-handle clapping him, at the same time, on the back, and then, putting his arm about Tinta, kissed her on the forehead.

"I owe a great many debts, ninety-nine per cent of which I have no intention of ever paying, but this is one which I will repay if it lies in my power. You two—I cannot get hold of your names just yet—have not only done a service to the boy here, but you have conferred an inestimable boon upon the scientific world, which would have suffered an irreparable blow had Stanislaus Cripps been sacrificed by that witless, white-haired, hypertrophied idiot."

He spoke with such vehemence, making such violent gestures with his arms, that all the chairs in the room rose in the air like leaves on an autumn day. Removing one that settled foolishly on his shoulder, he placed it under him and sat down.

"I'm glad you made use of your opportunities, boy, and acquired the language of these people. It will be of assistance to me when we visit the Inner Cavern. For myself, during the long months of my confinement, I have made some interesting studies of the Falta language. In the pocket of my other coat I have about two hundred pages of notes dealing with their language on the basis of comparative philology. Now that I shall have ample opportunity to study such archaeological remains as are available, I have every hope of establishing an important theory which I have formed as to the origin of this people."

He fingered his big red beard, and, forgetful of the fact that he was speaking to two of the Kru people, who were incapable of understanding a word he said, and to a boy, who was not even able to comprehend one out of every ten of the hard, scientific words he used, he proceeded to give a lecture.

Jim could only stare at him open-mouthed. Here was a man who had been kept caged up for many months in that nightmare world, fed under compulsion by those enormous giants for an end which he had always apparently known, who had just escaped by a hair's-breadth from an appalling death, and yet seemed quite untouched by these experiences. Either his nerves were so tough, or else his mind dwelt on a plane beyond material things Jim reflected, so that nothing had the power to cause him a moment's uneasiness. He treated life and death with the same indifference that he treated his creditors.

But one alarming fact Jim did extract from that lecture. Stanislaus Cripps referred again and again, with the same kind of pleasure that a hungry man talks about food, to the investigations he intended to make.

"We will sift this problem of the Buried World to the very bottom, boy. We will leave no stone unturned until we have found a solution to this mystery. Fortunately, owing to my foresight, we are well supplied with stores."

Jim could no longer keep back the cry of disappointment and despair that rose to his lips.

"But, Mr. Cripps, can't we go back? Surely we've suffered enough here already. Can't we find a way out?"

"Nerves, boy! You want a long rest! Too young, and not tough enough. Otherwise you wouldn't make such an absurd proposal. When we want to go, we can go. The road is open. When I was being held by that peculiarly objectionable Falta, who acted, apparently, as high priest—if it hadn't been for my beard, boy, the knife which he held very carelessly, might have cut my throat—I made some calculations on certain very interesting phenomena that I was able to observe."

He dropped once more into the lectures. Jim gathered that even at the moment when he was in danger of being sacrificed—when the sacrificial knife indeed was at his throat—his scientific detachment was so complete that he had made certain elaborate calculations. The light that had so puzzled Jim was simply a ray of the sun. Apparently the walls of this cavernous world were like a huge rocky funnel. Six miles above them, the end of this funnel thrust itself into the air. On a certain day, once in the year, the earth, in its passage through space, brought the end of that funnel immediately under the sun, so that a ray was projected into the vaulted, azure atmosphere of this underworld. The Flying Submarine had only to be made sufficiently buoyant to rise and pass through that funnel into the world above.

"Our way of retreat is safe, boy. When we have acquired all the data we need, we will set out on our homeward journey, but not until then. And we will take with us, boy, the money that I have always needed. Here is gold in abundance—the cage in which I was kept was made of gold—the vessels in which the Falta cook their food are constructed of gold. We shall be richer than Croesus!"

"And, boy, in consideration of the great service you did me, I will pay you the sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny that you inform me, rightly or wrongly, I owe your mother."

He sprang to his feet, pushed the chair under the table, and stretched out both his arms.

"Now to work! We must anchor the Flying Submarine, boy, in case the Falta get it. We must take arms with us, and food. In my spare time at Widgery Dene, I constructed some interesting lethal weapons out of my metal. They will enable us to deal with any Falta we may meet. While I am finding a safe anchorage, you will oblige me, boy, by looking out a coil of rope somewhere among the stores. There is an anchor there too, which we shall need."

Without giving Jim a chance of protesting, he rushed out of the dining-room and bolted upstairs to the pilot house. As Jim turned, with a hopeless gesture, to Tinta and Masra, the girl laid her hand upon his arm.

Jim, as he made his way to the store-room, reflected that that was, after all, not a bad estimate of Stanislaus Cripps. He was engaged in looking out the coils of rope for the anchor, when he was joined by his eccentric companion. Opening a panel in the wall, Stanislaus Cripps displayed before the boy's eyes an amazing collection of articles constructed of his wonderful metal. Some of them were enormous machines that looked like whippet tanks—others were obviously lethal weapons of some kind.

Stanislaus Cripps made a selection of some fifty different objects from this collection, and taking them in his arms bolted back to the pilot house. Following, Jim found that the Flying Submarine had been moved from the sacrificial stone to a place some five miles away.

Lowering it to within some thirty feet of the ground, Stanislaus Cripps went on deck, and payed out the joined-up lengths of rope with the anchor at the end.

"You and your friends, boy, must slide down the rope and make fast the anchor. I will then lower the stores and follow you."

Having carried out these instructions and reached the ground, they fixed the anchor beneath a great boulder Seeing that it was fast, Stanislaus Cripps raised the vessel until the rope was taut. Next he lowered the stores and that collection of glistening metal objects, and finally, swinging himself over the side, began to descend.

He had almost reached the bottom when, from somewhere in the gloom above, there came a sound like the roar of twelve eighteen-inch guns.

The next instant there fell upon them a shower of almost boiling rain. Pushing Tinta before him, Jim dived into cover under one of the boulders. Even as he did so he heard a cry of rage from Stanislaus Cripps. He saw that he had reached the ground, having dropped the last ten feet. Now, oblivious of that boiling cascade, he was looking upwards, his fists clenched.

There floating tantalisingly out of reach, was the anchor which he had jerked out of its place!

XV. — SCALDING RAIN

IN order to make the anchor rope taut, Stanislaus Cripps had given the vessel a buoyancy sufficient to keep it floating fifty feet above the ground. It hung suspended that height above their heads now.

The coils of ropes that Stanislaus Cripps had joined together measured exactly three hundred and fifty feet. Fastened to the rail that hedged in the deck, its end with the anchor was just nine feet above the ground—so tantalisingly near and yet out of reach.

For a few seconds Stanislaus Cripps stood immediately under the anchor, making grotesque little springs in his attempt to catch hold of it. And all the while there poured down upon the Buried World that pitiless torrent of scalding rain. Stanislaus Cripps appeared to awake abruptly the futility of his efforts and to the existence of that downpour, for he turned and shouted to Jim:

In answer to that appeal, Jim and his two companions rushed out from their shelter to the spot where the stores had been disembarked. They were curious mixed collection, for Stanislaus Cripps' views on the subject of rationing the party were peculiarly his own.

There was a barrel of American apples, and a large box of South African oranges. There were also tinned foods in great profusion. By the side of these there lay a pile of glittering objects, made out of the same mysterious metal as that of which the Flying Submarine was constructed.

It was like working in a very hot shower bath, but despite the difficulties under which they had to labour, they managed at last to get the supplies under shelter. Stanislaus Cripps himself, the water pouring from his shaggy beard, and his new plus-fours suit steaming, flung himself on that big pile of glittering metal, and taking one huge armful of it, dived for the little cave in which they were sheltering. He was only just in time.

Scarcely had he joined the rest of the party, and, breathing heavily with his exertions, had placed that pile of metal with a clatter on the ground, than pandemonium broke loose in the Buried World. With a shriek, like the letting off of a thousand steam sirens, a great wind swept down upon them.

It was not like an ordinary wind sweeping across the country horizontally, such as Jim had in the upper world; it bore down upon them vertically and then swept upwards. He had just made this observation when his attention was attracted by a cry for help from Stanislaus Cripps.

"Sit on them—fall on them! Hold them, for the love of Mike! We can't afford to lose one of them!"

Jim saw that the various articles, which composed that shimmering heap of metal, were being whirled about in every direction by the great wind. What looked like a full sized figure—he recognised it as one of the diving suits—came careering through the air towards him. He caught at it just in time and brought it to the ground.

Acting under the urgency of Stanislaus Cripps' appeal, Tinta and Masra added their efforts to keeping that pile intact. Eventually, by covering it with stones, they were able to anchor it safely to the ground. Stanislaus Cripps wiped his perspiring steaming forehead.

"Phew, worse than a Turkish bath, boy! Just the thing I wanted. Get down my fat!"

He appeared serenely indifferent to the violent and terrifying atmospheric disturbance that was going on about him. Though the vast Outer Cavern was filled with a turmoil that was absolutely deafening, though the fury of the strange wind seemed at times as if it were about to tear those towering, rocky walls apart, though the scalding rain fell in torrents, drumming on the ground a veritable devil's tattoo—Stanislaus Cripps was as cool and detached as if he had been seated under a tree on a pleasant summer afternoon.

"Ordinary atmospheric disturbance, boy, following the well-known laws that make hot air rise and colder air take its place."

Cripps jabbed a finger into the murk outside. It was so dark now that it was almost impossible to see anything.

"The Flying Submarine has gone, boy. Where she is now, Heaven alone knows! Probably she has struck one of these ascending draughts of air, and is careering about the exit to this Buried World There is a chance, of course, that she may escape altogether, but the mathematical laws of possibility and probability are all against such a thing happening. She will very likely strike a descending current of air, and be beaten back to the ground. If only we could find her in such a predicament we might manage to get on board."

"Some volcanic outburst higher up the shaft," explained Cripps. "Fortunately not an explosion of lava, but merely of steam. Hence this combination of a Turkish and a Russian bath. The air has been violently heated in the upper regions and is therefore ascending. The cold air from outside has rushed in to take its place. That is the simple explanation, boy. When the hot air has been all expelled, we shall be at peace again."

"Don't know, boy. She will probably sink back to the level in which we left her and float aimlessly about until the anchor catches, or we might be able to secure her by some other means."

A FEELING of despair swept over Jim. He wished with all his heart and soul that Stanislaus Cripps had not possessed such an inquiring mind. After much pain and toil they had regained possession of the Flying Submarine, and instead of using her to escape from this dreary world, they had started off on further explorations. And now they had lost their only means of ever getting out into the sunlight again.

For nearly an hour he sat crouched there, a very dismal, despondent boy. Presently that great wind began to abate. The rain ceased, and Stanislaus Cripps rose and shook himself.

"Now I think we can begin our investigations. The first question is one of transport. I have here a miniature tractor."

He began to dive among the pile of glittering metal, and produced what at first looked like a whippet tank, which he held between his finger and thumb.

"When the factor of weight is eliminated it is surprising how simple life becomes. Constructed in steel, this machine would weigh something like twenty tons. As it is, its weight is entirely negligible."

The machine was narrow enough to allow it, Jim surmised, to be passed through the porthole of the Flying Submarine, but in length it was nearly twelve feet. Stanislaus Cripps held it up before his face and examined it, and then placing it on the ground, held it lightly with one finger while he stepped on to the driver's seat.

"Load her up with the supplies, boy, and we'll be off. There's plenty of room for all of us."

Following his directions, they filled the interior of the tractor with stores. Only when they began to place what remained of that pile of glittering metal on board, did Stanislaus Cripps intervene.

"There's one or two things there that you and your friends had better learn the use of, boy."

He picked up four objects that looked like exaggerated revolvers and presented one each to Jim, Tinta and Masra; he thrust the remaining one in his own pocket.

"You'd better explain to your friends, boy. These lethal weapons fire an oxygen charge, which will kill at any distance. They are manipulated in exactly the same way as a revolver. You press the trigger and the bullet does the rest."

Masra nodded gravely, as Jim, with some difficulty, explained, and then thrust the weapon into the belt he wore about his waist. Tinta followed his example, then they took their seats in the tractor. Stanislaus Cripps touched a button and the engines began to purr.

"I use the same motive power as we employ in the Flying Submarine, boy. It has the advantage over petrol that you can get a thousand times more energy out of it per cubic inch. One gallon of my explosive mixture will do as much work as one thousand gallons of petrol. Now, boy, we will start. As you know the way, I shall want you to direct me."

"To the Inner Cavern, of course. It would appear that the Kru, among whom you have lived, are a much more highly developed and intelligent people than the Falta."

"But we can't go there!" Jim gasped, and began to explain again how they had broken the Kru law and that to return would mean death.

"I am not to be deterred by such foolish prejudices, boy. At any rate, there is no ban against me. I have broken no law, and it is most important that I should investigate the Inner Cavern."

As if dismissing the subject, he pulled a lever. The wheels, with their caterpillar, endless bands, began to revolve and the machine moved forward at a good twenty miles an hour. Tinta, who was seated next to Jim, gripped his hand. For the first time since he had known her, she showed signs of fear. She who had faced the giants unflinchingly, who had proved herself daring and resolute, was terrified at this unfamiliar form of locomotion.

"It is magic, Krim, and I am afraid. It is greater magic even than that of Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken!"

"There are thousands of these things in the world from which I come, Tinta. It is just a machine like the Flying Submarine. When next we stop, I will show you how it works. But who is this person you mentioned just now—Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken?"

After hesitating a moment, Tinta turned to her father and said a few words to him in an undertone. Masra shrugged his shoulders as he replied.

"What does it matter, daughter? The laws of the Kru no longer bind us. We have left the homes of our fathers, never to return."

"My father says I may tell you," Tinta exclaimed, looking up at Jim, "seeing that we no longer belong to the Kru people."

And then, as the tractor carried them swiftly over the ground, twisting its way through the boulders where possible, or climbing over them when there was no way round, Jim listened to a story so fantastic that it was difficult to believe in its reality.

While he had lived in the Inner Cavern he had often wondered at the social arrangements of the Little People, their system of government, their orderliness, the manner in which they all acted together as if under some common impulse, though there were no leaders among them, no laws by which they were governed, and nothing that corresponded even remotely to a representative body that met like Parliament to pass legislation. With the exception of the promulgation of the Ban, before the coming of The Great Light, the Kru never acted together as a community; and yet order was maintained among them, and there was a clearly defined Social System. He was now to learn the secret.

"We are forbidden to speak of him, Krim," said Tinta. "That is why I did not tell you. There were pictures of Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, but, by his orders, they were removed. He dwells in the Cave of the Fires. No one has ever seen him. From time to time he tells us what we may do, and what we may not do."

She spoke with such sincerity that it was obvious that she believed the statement.

"The food would be gathered and renewed many times, Krim, before one could reach it. Only those that he sends for ever make the journey."

"He speaks to us with his voice. When you came, Krim, was the last time he spoke to the Kru. After they had made you Masra's blood brother, the people were frightened that they might have done wrong. They sent some to consult with him, taking with them the slate on which you drew those pictures, and he sent word that you were to be well-treated."

XVI. — THE FALL OF THE IDOL

SO engrossed had Jim become in the story Tinta was telling him, that he had paid no attention to their progress. Now, as the tractor stopped abruptly, he saw that they were below the great sacrificial stone that was placed at the base of the idol. The figure of the Falta high priest still lay there. Stanislaus Cripps flung himself out of his seat at the wheel.

"I'm going to perform a little petty act of spite," he exclaimed. "I lived for four or five months alongside that absurd graven image, and I came to hate it as I never hated anything before. I'm going to put a finish to it now. You can come and help me, boy."

Jim followed him round the base of the statue, wondering what was on foot. Here Stanislaus Cripps paused and examined the stone work with the aid of his electric torch. The foundations of that great image were made of two massive blocks of stone placed close together. Between them there was a space into which a man could slip his hand.

"Whoever built this statue must have had some considerable knowledge of mechanics," Cripps said. "These slabs could not have been placed in position merely by human manhandling. I am going to be guilty of an act of vandalism. I propose to destroy this image, partly because I dislike it so heartily, and partly because I propose at some date to bring the Falta into subjection. It is absurd that these hypertrophied idiots should be masters of this world. By striking at their superstition, which unites them I shall have taken a big step towards reducing them to their proper status."

Taking a tin canister out of his pocket, Cripps poured some powder into the gap between the great stones. Then he produced a piece of tinder, which had obviously formed part of a pipe-lighter. Placing one end in the powder, he lighted the other end with a match.

"A rough-and-ready time-fuse, boy, but as we don't know exactly how long it will take for the tinder to burn to the end, we'd better be hurrying. That explosive of mine is very powerful!"

They raced back to the tractor, and, having jumped into their seats, began to speed away from the neighbourhood of the idol. They had covered nearly a mile when, out of the azure gloom, there loomed up six of the giant Falta. Stanislaus Cripps gave a little chuckle.

"See the fellow with the wart on his nose, boy? That's the only one of the Falta with any glimmering of sense. He is at least capable of some rudimentary thinking. I used to make him teach me their language, and, had I had time, I believe I could have persuaded him to connive at my escape."

Jim gazed at the giant whom Stanislaus Cripps had indicated. He was, the boy noticed, several inches shorter than his comrades, and his vast face was not so entirely blank and expressionless as those of his companions. The Falta were evidently amazed at this crawling, glistening thing rushing so swiftly towards them across the floor of the Cavern. As they approached nearer, however, one of them stooped down as if intending to pick up this curious insect. Stanislaus Cripps accelerated the engine at the same moment, and, twisting the wheel, passed over the giant's foot and zigzagged cleverly between his legs. There was a little squeal of pain.

The giant whose foot the tractor had passed over, hobbled painfully to a pile of boulders and began, to examine them with an intention that was perfectly obvious. Stanislaus Cripps shouted out something in the Falta language, which bore the same relation to the Kru tongue as old English does to modern English.

The giant with the wart on his nose turned and said some words to his companions. Their only reply was to glower at him, and, following the example of the other giant, to arm themselves with huge rocks. Stanislaus Cripps, zigzagging the tractor backwards and forwards, in tried persuasion, evidently not anxious to resort to extreme measures.

"Gra tell them not to make fools of themselves! And you must not stay here. Any moment now your ridiculous god may be blown to smithereens, and you stand a good chance of being hit by one of the falling fragments. You'd better follow us as quickly as those big legs of yours will let you."

Gra shouted something at the top of his voice. Catching a word here and there, Jim, with his knowledge of the Kru tongue, was able to make out that he was exhorting his comrades not to resort to violence.

"The Kru with the red beard, who is Lord of the Flying Rock, declares that he is about to destroy our god as he destroyed our High Priest," said Gra. "Let us hasten away, before worse evil befalls us!"

Several of the giants had already raised the great rocks in their hands. Gra's statement seemed to paralyse them for a moment. Putting his foot on the accelerator, Stanislaus Cripps took full advantage of that respite. Shouting out to Gra to follow him, he sent the tractor careering over the ground at a speed of forty miles an hour, zigzagging as he did so.

The next instant a storm of huge rocks began to fall about them, one of them narrowly missing Masra, who was sitting in the rear seat. Presently, however, they had drawn out of range, and, slowing down the engines, Stanislaus Cripps allowed Gra, who had raced after them, to come alongside.

"Trot along Gra," he said in a friendly voice. "Another mile and you will be quite safe."

The giant grinned at him and began loping over the ground by the side of the tractor as it continued on its course.

"If you can manage it, Gra," Stanislaus Cripps shouted, "tell those fool Falta to follow you."

"They will not come. They go to bury the High Priest. The Falta are angry. They will sing and shout at the burying, and rouse themselves to fierce deeds. Woe to any Kru who comes their way!"

"Well, I've told you what will happen," Stanislaus Cripps remarked. "There won't he any High Priest to bury in a few minutes—you take it from me!"

Even as he uttered the words there was an ear-splitting report, which filled the cavernous world with thunderous echoes. Stanislaus Cripps stopped the tractor, and, turning in his seat, looked back. Jim, following his example, saw for a moment the great cruel face of the graven idol, looking down at him out of the shadows; then abruptly it disappeared.

There was a moment's silence, followed by a renewed uproar. It seemed as if the air were raining stones. One great mass of rock, weighing several tons, struck the little group of Falta, who, regardless of the warning they had received, had advanced further into the danger zone. Jim felt a shudder of horror as he saw those great figures reel and fall.

He put his hands before his face as if to shut out that scene of massacre. When he drew them away again, he was aware of ten great fingers clutching at the side of the tractor. Looking up, he saw that Gra had dropped on his knees, and with his huge head bowed in reverence before Stanislaus Cripps, was uttering a string of words in his high falsetto voice. Stanislaus Cripps, stretching out a hand that seemed absurdly small, patted him on top of the head.

"He's telling me that he is my slave, boy. We have tamed the first of the Falta, and, curiously enough, he is the most intelligent."

"Rise, Gra, and follow. From now on my enemies are your enemies, and my friends your friends."

"Just as well to make that point quite clear, boy. We're now going to inspect the Inner Cavern, and I don't want him to get into trouble with the Kru!"

XVII. — CAPTURED BY THE KRU

REALISING that to argue with Stanislaus Cripps would be absolutely useless—that if he wanted to go into the Inner Cavern, he would go—Jim remained silent, mentally determining, however, that he, Tinta and Masra would remain outside while the other was carrying out his investigations. As they neared the opening to the Inner Cavern, Tinta showed signs of alarm.

"Oh, Krim, if we go much nearer we shall meet the Kru and they will kill us," she said, alarm in her voice. "The ban is lifted after the passing of the Great Light, and they will come out to hunt the Falta."

"We shall always be able to get away, Tinta," Jim remarked reassuringly. "You've seen how fast we can travel. Look, this journey that took us four days, we have almost accomplished in as many hours."

They had passed the Falta houses now and were dashing onwards when Gra, who was running by their side, held up his hand warningly.

"The Falta attack the Kru. After the passing of the Great Light, they met together and decided that the Kru must be killed. They are breaking into their cave. Look!"

Now visible in the azure murk, some sixty of the giants could be seen collected about the entrance of that narrow tunnel. With stolid persistence they were tearing at the solid rock with roughly made weapons.

"Strength, Gra, does not necessarily lie in the body alone. It is more important to have strength up here." He tapped his head as he spoke. "We shall come to no harm. You will see, Gra."

He set the tractor in motion again. In a few minutes it had drawn close to the gigantic figures that were working with frenzied rage to break into the fastnesses of the Inner Cavern. They were stabbing at the rock with spears that sometimes bent in their hands with the force of their blows. Their efforts had not been entirely unavailing, however, for already the entrance to the tunnel had been enlarged to a height of fifteen feet.

So occupied were the giants in their task that they never noticed the strange machine that was hovering in their rear. The air resounded with the clamour of metal on stone, and the heavy breathing of the labouring giants.

At that moment Masra gave a cry and pointed upwards. Following the direction of his gaze, Jim and his companions saw floating above their heads the Flying Submarine! Instantly Stanislaus Cripps sprang out of the tractor to the ground.

Carried away by the infection of his excitement, the other occupants of the tractor jumped the ground. The Flying Submarine was following an erratic course, influenced by the currents of air that up and down the shaft. As it neared the spot where the giants were labouring, it swerved suddenly and darted outwards from the cavern walls towards the lake.

Gra, urged on by Stanislaus Cripps, pursued it, very much as an entomologist pursues a butterfly. Now he had almost caught the anchor—now it evaded his grasp as the Flying Submarine swiftly changed its direction, and went off at an angle to its original course. And the little party of four followed Gra, encouraging him with shouts.

Forgetful of everything else, they continued the pursuit for nearly half a mile, by which time Gra and the Flying Submarine were almost out of sight. Then a sudden disturbance behind them made them halt.

He might well ask, for that serried mass of giant figures had fallen back from the entrance to the Outer Cavern, Streaks of yellow flame were issuing from the mouth of the tunnel. It was Tinta who first realised what had happened.

"The Kru are attacking the Falta with the liquid fire! They will drive them back and then pursue them. We shall be caught!"

He set the example by setting off at a round pace towards the spot where they had left the tractor. They had got to within a hundred yards of it, when panic seemed to seize upon the Falta. Suddenly they turned and came rushing in a thunderous mass towards them.

Jim remembered what he had read about the destruction caused by the stampeding of cattle. But the stampede of the Falta, he realised, was something even more terrible.

There were sixty of them, and their feet alone were nearly four foot long, and none of them could have weighed less than half a ton. A runaway steam roller would have been a safer thing to face than that mad, panic-stricken charge of the giants! The only thing to be done was to take cover.

As if acting on some common impulse, the whole four of them flung themselves down behind the first boulder. They were only just in time. The next instant that giant wave had broken upon them. From their hiding-place they saw a maze of vast limbs flashing past them; the ground shook beneath the thunder of their charge, and the air was filled with their whimpering cry of terror that was like the screaming of myriad seagulls.

Another moment and the Falta had passed. Stanislaus Cripps instantly sprung to his feet, and, without more ado, rushed for the tractor, which fortunately had not been left in the track of that giant stampede. Masra followed him, and Jim, calling to Tinta, raced at his heels. Stanislaus Cripps had swung himself into the driving seat and had already set the engines in motion, when out of the azure murk there appeared a small regiment of the Kru.

They were armed with the liquid fire apparatus and were pursuing the giants, uttering thunderous shouts as they ran. Masra, at the sight of them, flung himself trembling at the bottom of the tractor. Jim, who had taken a seat, sprung to his feet and looked back. For the first time he realised that Tinta was not with them!

At that moment he saw the girl twenty yards away. He held out his hands to her in a very panic of anxiety. The Kru were closing down upon her now. They, too, had seen her, and had raised a shout that chilled the blood in the boy's veins. It was a cry of hate—the cry of an people who saw before them one who had committed treason!

"Mr. Cripps—Mr. Cripps!" Jim cried. "They will catch her and kill her. Oh, Mr. Cripps, save her!"

"Stay where you are, boy!" Stanislaus Cripps voice boomed. "Don't commit suicide!"

As he spoke he set the tractor in motion. Turning beautifully, the glittering machine raced towards Tinta. But they were too late. When still a few yards from her, the leading ranks of the Kru broke about her. Jim saw dozens of pairs of hands seize her by the arms and drag her backwards. The tractor plunged into the mass, Stanislaus Cripps steering it towards the spot where the girl's struggling figure could be seen.

And now the Kru seemed to become conscious for the first time of the strange machine that had invaded their world. Jim heard an old man—whom he remembered for his kindness to him—hold up his hand and shout something in a tone of command. Instantly eight of the Kru lined up in front of the tractor, unslinging from their shoulders the deadly liquid fire apparatus. The next second eight jets of flame were directed at the tractor. With great presence of mind, Stanislaus Cripps swung it round and dashed out of range.

Jim, clenching his teeth, drew the weapon Stanislaus Cripps had given him from his pocket. Taking aim he pulled the trigger. Something almost like a cry of horror broke from his lips.

It was the first time he had witnessed the deadly effects of the explosive Stanislaus Cripps had invented. The man he had hit seemed to dissolve and disappear! He saw the Kru turn panic-stricken and rush for the entrance to the tunnel.

"Fire again!" Stanislaus Cripps voice boomed as he drove the tractor in pursuit.

Even as those broken words came from his lips, he caught a vision of Tinta, a prisoner in the hands of some dozen men. Flinging down the strange revolver Stanislaus Cripps had given him, he swung himself over the side of the tractor, and, though it was still moving, managed to keep his feet on the ground. The next moment, with his head down as if he were diving into a Rugby scrum, he had flung himself among the Kru, battling at them with his fists, tearing them aside in his mad frenzy to make a path for himself to Tinta.

Arms clutched at his legs. Somebody jumped on his back, causing him to stumble. He tottered, striking out fiercely, still calling her name.

For a moment the sound of her voice gave Jim renewed energy. He managed to free himself from his captors—but only for a moment. The next instant half a dozen Kru had flung themselves on him. He received a violent blow on the head. The azure world swung and swayed about him.

Then, at that moment, something struck him neatly behind the knees. Jim reeled backwards, his clutching hands touching something cold and familiar. A very podgy hand gripped him by the collar of his coat. He heard Stanislaus Cripps' booming voice in his ear. He was once more aboard the tractor, which had been driven adroitly into the crowd of struggling figures only just in time to rescue him.

XVIII. — PREPARING FOR THE RESCUE

JIM sank down on the floor of the tractor, and, burying his face in his hands, sobbed as if his heart were broken. Tinta had been captured by the Kru and would be made to pay the penalty for her defiance of the ban—and it was all on his account! She had broken the laws of her people for his sake, and now she was going to her death. He had tried to rescue her and failed.

Suddenly upon his trance of misery there broke Stanislaus Cripps' booming voice.

"Boy, you're balmy! Why do you think Tinta's going to be killed? Of course she isn't. Quite apart from the fact that she's a very charming young lady who appreciated the value of science so much that she risked her life to prevent the irreparable loss that would have been caused by my untimely decease, I like her personally. I no intention of allowing her to be killed—any more than I propose to be killed myself, if it can be decently avoided!"

He turned to Masra who, pale and haggard, was looking anxiously in the direction in which Tinta had been forced away by the vengeful Kru.

Without another word he walked calmly back to the tractor, and, bending over the side, began to rummage among that glittering heap of stores.

With the tip of his finger he tossed two of the diving dresses towards Masra and Jim.

"In the old days of chivalry they used to wear armour, but it was heavy, inefficient stuff," Cripps said. "As long as Sir Launcelot could sit his horse, he could kill any number of half-naked peasants. They had as much chance as a fleet of rowing boats would have against an ironclad. But once his horse had been ham-stringed or brought down be couldn't get up, and the jolly old peasants had their own back. Now this metal of mine is so light that you won't know you're wearing the suit, and it'll stop any weapon they've got down in this part of the world. Get a move on both of you, and dress."

He set the example by slipping into the diving suit, which was constructed, as far as the shoulder and arms, of one piece. The head piece was separate, and was adjusted by an ingenious device of intermittent screws.

Having dressed himself, Cripps assisted Jim and Masra to complete their strange toilet. Jim, looking through the lenses that formed the eye-holes, could not help a feeling of amusement at the sight they presented, in spite of his anxiety regarding Tinta's fate.

They were all three transformed into the figures of medieval knights, clad from head to foot in what looked like silver armour.

By a clever contrivance of valves, Jim found that they could communicate with one another, and microphone adjustment about the ears enabled them to hear more or less clearly. Stanislaus Cripps' voice came to him, its boom somewhat muffled.

"Those oxygen cartridges of mine were a bit too effective," he exclaimed. "We don't want to use them except in an emergency. But I've got some dope stuff here which is guaranteed to put anyone to sleep who gets a whiff of it!"

He handed to each of them two long cylinders, which looked like exaggerated electric torches. On one end was a nozzle like that to be seen on a fire extinguisher.

"All you've got to do is to touch that button, and the chemical mixture is projected into the air," he exclaimed. "But don't take any action until you get the order from me."

He took one glance round. Gra was visible in the dim distance, racing round the lake like an irritable entomologist, trying to catch the elusive anchor of the Flying Submarine.

"That'll keep him good and quiet," said Cripps. "If he does catch it, so much the better. He can't do it any harm. And if he doesn't, we shan't be any the worse off. Let's beat it, boy!"

WITHOUT another word, he clambered up the sloping rock and plunged into the tunnel. Jim followed him, Masra bringing up the rear.

In a few minutes they had gained that rocky chamber where Jim had heard the Ban promulgated on the day when they had set out in search of the Flying Submarine. Here Stanislaus Cripps paused and looked about him with interest.

It was clear that his inquiring mind urged him to inspect the paintings that decorated the walls, but he checked his insatiable curiosity and beckoned to Jim.

"To the Hall of the People, Krim," Masra exclaimed, in reply to Jim's question. "We must hasten, or we may be too late!"

He led the way at a run out of the rocky chamber into the long network of corridors beyond. Three glittering figures, they raced down that interminable passage, the lights from the lamps above their heads glistening on their shining armour, their metal clad feet making a jangling sound on the hard surface of the floor.

At last they reached that curtained doorway through which Jim had passed on the day when he was made blood brother to Masra. On the threshold the Kru paused, and pointed at the curtain. Stanislaus Cripps joined him, and, bending down, listened intently.

From within came a weird chant that rose and fell with an effect that was blood curdling.

"What is the penalty for those who break the Ban? What shall we do to her who disobeys the law? O Kru, look at her! She went out to the Falta—yes, just at the Coming of the Great Light! She would have been a victim to their god, she would have renewed their courage. O Kru, say what is the penalty!"

There was an ominous pause, and then from the other side of the curtain came the swelling chorus, raised now to a maddening shriek.

With a movement of his metal clad arm, he swept the curtain aside and stalked into the great vaulted chamber beyond.

Standing just behind him, Jim saw tiers and tiers of seats, rising one above the other, filled with the Kru who were standing with their arms raised above their heads. He glimpsed their savage implacable faces—their eyes glowed with a terrible frenzied ecstasy. And then his gaze shifted to the scene in that central space—that same space where his blood had been mingled with that of Masra's.

A little stilled cry rose to his lips. There on a stone, bound hand and foot, lay Tinta, her eyes staring upwards at the roof. About her were twelve men armed with javelins. These glittering weapons were raised above their heads. In another moment and their points would be buried in the girl's body!

With a spring Stanislaus Cripps cleared the narrow gangway that communicated with the entrance, and rushed headlong into the centre of that little group. Jim and Masra following him, they lined up about the stone on which Tinta lay, forming a barrier between the girl and her would-be executioners.

So utterly unexpected was their appearance that the twelve men armed with the javelins stepped back while the rest of the audience stood spellbound at these astonishing apparitions. Jim heard Stanislaus Cripps' voice.

"Tell them, boy, that unless they're looking for trouble, they've got to cut out all this business. The execution is off!"

For a moment Jim was flabbergasted. Then, realising the necessity for action, grasping the fact that the effect of the surprise might pass—that Tinta might be killed under their very eyes in spite of all their efforts—he began to speak.

"O Kru listen to me. No blood is to be shed. It is the order of the mighty magician who stands here at my side."

"He has destroyed the Falta god; he has brought the Falta into subjection. No more will you have to fear them. And it is she who lies there—she whom you would kill—who has made these wonderful doings possible for him. Would you kill her who has destroyed the power of the Falta?"

For a moment there was a breathless stillness as he stopped speaking. Then from every part of that vast arena there came a wild demoniac shout.

Jim saw the little circle of javelin men hesitate, and then make a movement as if to close round the stone on which their victim lay. He raised his hand in a vain attempt to stay them.

"Listen, O Kru! It is forbidden for you to touch this girl. Woe to those who raise their hands against her!"

One of the javelin men—whom Jim recognised as an old friend—lowered his arm and addressed him.

"Where you come from, O Shining One, we know not; what brings you here we cannot say; but the penalty on those who broke the Ban must be paid."

Jim collected his scattered senses. He remembered the strange tale that Tinta had told him. The situation was so desperate that a little flight of imagination was permissible, he felt.

A hushed awe fell upon the vast crowd. Not a sound was heard in that vaulted building except the stifled breathing of the men. And then, in the midst of that stressed stillness, there seemed to come from the ground beneath their feet a voice that rose vibrant and thrilling.

"Be not deceived, O Kru. The penalty must be paid according to the law, I have spoken!"

Jim could see Masra shrink back against the stone on which Tinta lay, his whole gesture expressing indescribable terror. Stanislaus Cripps, with an inquisitive twist of his head, was looking about the ground as if in search of that spot from whence the voice came.

Jim realised that there was not a moment to be lost. That mysterious being in whose existence he had only half believed, had by some means or other declared his verdict!

In another moment the Kru, under the spur of that voice which for them was the law, and goaded by the thought that they had been deceived, would sweep them aside and proceed to their terrible rite!

XIX. — THE MYSTERY GAS

"MR. CRIPPS," Jim shouted desperately; "it's no use. We can't hold them back any longer."

"Boy, who was that speaking just now?" Stanislaus Cripps inquired calmly. "A very interesting phenomenon."

With a yell that awoke the echoes in that vaulted chamber, the twelve javelin men rushed at their victim. Jim did the only thing he could think of. He flung himself face downwards on the top of Tinta, shouting to Masra to do the same.

He felt half a dozen spears strike his armour. He spread himself over Tinta—a living shield! And from every side of that vast arena the blood-curdling chorus of "Death—Death—Death!" was being re-echoed.

Then amidst that confusion, Jim suddenly heard a faint hissing sound. Instantly, it seemed, the pandemonium in their immediate neighbourhood ceased. There were a series of thuds, the noise of weapons dropping on the rocky floor.

The boy looked up to see Stanislaus Cripps standing calmly at the head of the stone on which Tinta lay, with that torch-like apparatus in his hand. From the nozzle was being projected a milk-like gas that spread and spread, and turned to a greenish hue as it mingled with the air.

Swinging his arm backwards and forwards, Cripps directed the jet towards the javelin men. As that mysterious gas touched them, they dropped to the floor like stones. Even as Jim watched, the last of them sank helplessly to the ground.

"I invented that originally, boy, to deal with the writ servers, solicitors' clerks, brokers' men, and the other ridiculous minions of an antiquated law who interfered with my scientific experiments at Widgery Dene! As you will note, it is remarkably effective."

"It has a baby's soothing syrup beaten to a frazzle, boy" he exclaimed in a tone of satisfaction. "Extremely interesting."

It was curious how Jim's strained nerves responded to the effect of that philosophical detachment. Quite suddenly he felt no sense of fear. Stanislaus Cripps might have been standing on a crowded railway platform, waiting patiently for a train, instead of being in a cave six miles below the surface of the earth, and surrounded by a maddened horde whose laws and customs he had outraged.

"We'd better release the young lady, boy. She doesn't look to me as if she can be very comfortable."

From a metal belt that he wore about his waist, he took a long dagger-like knife and coolly cut the bonds that bound Tinta. The next moment the girl had scrambled from the stone.

At the sight of their victim apparently about to escape, the Kru—who had been paralysed by the mysterious fate that had overtaken the executioners—gave a maddened yell of rage and surged forward from their seats into that open central space. Jim put one arm protectingly about Tinta. He could feel the girl's body trembling.

They were bold words, and they seemed a direct travesty of what must inevitably happen. The Kru were now closing upon them in a solid mass.

"Keep your head, boy!" Stanislaus Cripps boomed. "Put the girl in the centre, then you and Masra stand on either side of her. As these unfortunate people are so excitable we must put some of them to rest for a little. Press the button of your cylinder when I give the order."

Shouting to Masra, Jim lifted Tinta on to the stone and took his place by her side. Following his example Masra stood with his back to him. Stanislaus Cripps' sturdy armoured figure completed the little barricade about the girl.

The perimeter of the circle was only a few feet away from him. The three men pressed the buttons of their shining cylinders. Instantly there streamed from the nozzles a flow of that milky gas, which mingled with the air and spread In an ever-growing greenish cloud. Moving the cylinders in a wide sweep, they completed a circle of the gas between themselves and the on-rushing horde of Kru.

To Jim it seemed as if a miracle had happened. As the Kru came in contact with that encircling cloud, they dropped to the ground senseless. Upon those pressing madly behind them, a like fate fell, until a solid wall of motionless humanity lay there.

For some moments those behind scarcely realised what was taking place, but as that wall grew ever higher—as man after man added his body to the pile—what was happening must have dawned upon them.

Abruptly that human wave seemed to hang back. There was a moment's pause, and, then, with a shriek of terror those that yet remained conscious in the Cave of the People turned and fled panic-stricken towards the door, struggling and fighting to escape with the same frantic indifference for the safety of one another as an audience trying to get out of a burning theatre.

A minute more and that vast vaulted chamber of the Cave of the People was empty, save for Tinta, and the three shining figures that stood guard by her side, and the piled masses of the unconscious Kru!

XX. — THE KRU ATTACK

"A TRIUMPH of mind over matter, boy. Unfortunately we must postpone our further investigations of the Inner Cavern until the gas has dispersed." Stanislaus Cripps seated himself on the stone with matter of-fact coolness. He turned to Tinta and patted her hand paternally.

"Well, little girl, how are you feeling? Rather an unpleasant shock for you. Nice people, yours, I should imagine, when one gets to know them, but a trifle bloodthirsty when excited!"

Tinta, who was staring at the amazing scene about her with dazed, bewildered eyes, turned with a little questioning gasp to Jim.

Jim translated, leaving out, however, any mention of the Kru for fear of hurting Tinta's feelings. For answer the girl stepped from the stone, and dropping gracefully on her knees, bowed her dark head before Stanislaus Cripps.

"Tell him, O Krim, that as he has given me my life, so will I give him back his gift whenever he shall demand it. He is great. He is wonderful!"

"Very pretty of her, boy," Stanislaus Cripps boomed when Jim had explained the purport of her words "But I don't want her life. Make that quite clear to her, will you? What I want is information."

He seemed suddenly to remember something, for, dropping on his knees, he began to examine the rocky floor. Presently he looked up at Jim.

"The human senses are such unreliable instruments, boy, that they are often susceptible of hallucinations. Now I could have sworn that I heard someone speaking from underneath this floor somewhere. Did you hear it, boy?"

Again Masra showed symptoms of that shrinking terror that he had displayed before.

"It was Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, O Hairy One. You have set his word at naught—you have defied him—and, wonderful as you are, I fear for you. Who can stand up against Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken?"

"Eh, what's that?" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed evidently understanding a word here and there of that statement. "What's this about Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken? What's he talking about, boy?"

Jim explained what Tinta had told him—how the Kru were ruled by some mysterious being whom no one had ever seen and who lived in the Cave of the Fire—a three days' journey away—and made his will known as occasion required. Stanislaus Cripps devoured the story, his eyes glowing with excitement.

Masra explained that he knew the beginning of the road; he had been part of the way—though he had never been selected by Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken to attend actually in the Cave of Fire itself.

"Then he must take us there," Stanislaus Cripps declared excitedly. "We will set off at once. The gas is dispersed, and there is nothing to keep us here a moment longer."

Both Tinta and Masra shrank away, appalled by this suggestion. It was not, Jim realised, a question of physical fear—he had had evidences of their courage which rendered such an explanation absurd—but some superstitious dread which had been born with them, and which not even Cripps could override. He would be going to his death, they said.

Stanislaus Cripps clutched irritably at the place where his beard should have been when this was explained to him.

"Superstitious nonsense!" he growled. "Do they imagine that I, Stanislaus Cripps, am a child to be frightened by a bogey? I am curious—naturally curious. There must be some reasonable explanation. The story as you heard it, boy, has bunkum written all over it."

As the echoes of his voice died away and stillness settled down upon that vaulted chamber, they were startled by a sound that seemed to come from their very feet.

"I would see these men who have attempted to pervert my orders—who have dared to put words into my mouth—who have said the thing that is not. They are to be brought to me!"

"Boy, they can't know anything about amplifiers and microphones in this world. It is absurd. And yet one could almost swear that that was somebody's voice reproduced by wireless on a loud speaker!"

Tinta, her face covered in her hands, had almost collapsed. Masra was cowering on the stone, his teeth chattering.

"Better to die here than to face Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken!" Tinta sobbed.

Jim drew Stanislaus Cripps aside. Neither Tinta nor her father would consent to lead him to the Cave of the Fires. It would be better, he suggested, to abandon the scheme. After all, they still had their hands pretty full, seeing that the Kru were openly hostile.

"We must go all the same, boy!" persisted Cripps obstinately. "I've got to understand the meaning of this. But perhaps it would be best to pacify these unfortunate people first."

"Having a good sleep, aren't they? They won't wake up for a while yet. I might conveniently occupy the time in studying some of their mural records. You might take me to that place you told me of, boy—the Cave of Records!"

Picking their way with difficulty over that wall of sleeping figures, they gained the gallery beyond. Here Jim had to entrust the task of leading them to Tinta, for though he had spent four months in the Inner Cavern, he had never yet been able to master the intricacies of that net-work of galleries.

Of the Kru no trace was to be seen as, twisting and turning, now to the left and now the right, they continued on their way. Jim, who was following at Tinta's heels, saw the girl suddenly halt and her figure grow rigid.

At the same moment there was a rush of feet, and from a dark gallery on their immediate left, a small detachment of the Kru rushed out, armed with their liquid fire apparatus. Jim had just time to seize Tinta round the waist and hurl her roughly back, when six jets of flame were directed towards them.

He was about to rush in headlong retreat, when he was arrested by the peculiar behaviour of Stanislaus Cripps. Instead of moving he just stood there, watching those jets of liquid flame like someone might halt in the street to watch a fire-brigade damping down the flames of a burning house with their hoses.

"Nothing to get excited about, boy!" he boomed. "Among the other virtues of my metal, it happens to be a non-conductor. It is impervious to heat!"

XXI. — THE CONE OF FIRE

STANISLAUS CRIPPS advanced coolly on the Kru detachment. Instantly his shining figure became the target of those concentrated jets of flame. The range of the liquid fire apparatus was not more than twenty feet—a fact, which explained why the Kru had not long since decimated the Falta—and with unhurried stride Stanislaus Cripps covered that distance. The jets of flame made a peculiar drumming sound on his armour.

Jim could sec the grim set faces of the Kru—the hate in their eyes—as they kept their liquid flames directed on this man who had outraged their laws and customs. Clearly they imagined that he would suddenly drop dead at their feet.

Even when he was less than two feet away from them, and it must have been clear to the Kru that their usually deadly weapon was for some reason ineffective, they still held their ground.

Stanislaus Cripps walked straight up to one of them, and, as the man stood there gaping with astonishment, coolly took the apparatus out of his hand. Almost instinctively he seemed to guess how it worked, for the next second he had checked the flow of liquid flame. Then he gave the apparatus back to the man, patting him on the back.

"Talk to them, boy," he shouted. "Tell them that I consider them very brave men, and that I want to be friends."

Jim, having seen that Tinta was safely out of range and protected by her father, hurried to Stanislaus Cripps' side.

"O Kru," he exclaimed, "we know that you are brave men, and we desire to be your friends. Let us end this quarrel. You have seen that you cannot hurt us, and we have no wish to injure you."

The man whose apparatus Stanislaus Cripps had examined, flung out both his hands in a gesture of despair.

"It cannot be, You Who Speak Our Tongue. He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken has said it, and we must obey. You have defied our laws and the punishment is death!"

Even as he spoke there came a rush of feet from another gallery on their right. Before they could move, some forty Kru had flung themselves on them, and by sheer force of numbers had borne them to the ground.

Jim caught a glimpse of Stanislaus Cripps lying prone on the floor, while twenty Kru jabbed at him with javelins and axes. It reminded him of someone trying to open a tin of sardines without a proper instrument. He himself was being treated in the same way.

For ten minutes they were battered and stabbed and hacked. Sometimes they were turned over as if their assailants were looking for some joint in their armour, but so perfectly were the diving dresses constructed that, save for an occasional tingling, Jim never felt one of those blows.

He could see the sweat pouring down the Krus' faces; he could hear the breath labouring in their lungs with the exertions they were making. Then, as if exhausted, they paused, standing back to judge of the effects of their violence. Jim grinned to himself as he saw Stanislaus Cripps calmly rise to his feet as if nothing had happened.

"Tell them, boy, that they cannot injure us—that if they may not be friends without the consent of Him-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken, let us be taken to this fellow, wherever he is, and come to some arrangement. Obviously we can't go on like this."

The Kru were staring open-mouthed at Stanislaus Cripps, and taking advantage of their consternation, Jim also rose to his feet, and translated Cripps' message.

The Kru bunched together, whispering to one another, evidently at a loss to know what to do. Clearly they had been so accustomed to have their lives regulated for them that now, faced with the necessity of having to act on their own initiative, they were utterly bewildered. For several minutes they engaged in this debate, and then, one of them acting as spokesman, turned to Jim.

"The three Shining Ones can go! It is the will of Him-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken."

He inclined his head reverently as he uttered those words. How did he know? Jim wondered. Save for the heap of unconscious Kru in the Cave of the People, they had been alone when that mysterious voice had spoken.

"But the girl Tinta cannot go. She has been dedicated to death. He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken has said it."

"Are they saying that Tinta is to be given up?" Stanislaus Cripps broke in. "Tell them they're talking nonsense. Rub it into them, boy, that I'm a magician that's got Him-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken beaten to a frazzle, and that unless they want to be put to sleep they had better think twice about that clause relating to Tinta."

"Kru," exclaimed Jim, "what you ask is impossible. That Shining One is the mightiest of all wise men. Even Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken is nothing to him. He can ride in the air and move under the water. He cannot he hurt. Even as he dealt with the Kru in the Cave of the People, so will he deal with you here if you try to lay a finger on Tinta. He has said that Tinta goes with us to the Cave of the Fires!"

Again the men fell to whispering among themselves. Catching a word here and there, Jim realised that the Kru were only too glad of a chance of shelving their responsibility. To send Tinta to Him-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken was to carry out the instructions they had received in the spirit, if not in the letter. Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken would deal with her. After all, it was his law—his Ban—promulgated through their mouths, which she had broken.

"It shall be as the Shining One has said," their spokesman exclaimed at last. "Tinta shall go with you, and Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken shall judge her."

Jim was conscious of a feeling of immense relief. Tinta was safe for a time at any rate.

"Come with us and we will set your feet upon the path. It is a long journey. Three times will the food be gathered and renewed before you reach the Cave of the Fires!"

"Tell them we shall want food, boy. If that infernal entrance tunnel wasn't so small, we could have made the journey in comfort on the tractor."

"We will give you food," the spokesman answered when he had been informed of Stanislaus Cripps' demands. "Come with us."

As they closed about them, Jim noticed that they avoided all contact with Tinta, shrinking from her as if they feared to touch her. He saw, too, that the girl had noticed it, for her pretty face flushed and her lips trembled.

Marching down a series of galleries, they paused at last in the Cave of the Mushrooms, where a party of the Kru busied themselves in gathering supplies for the journey. These, with several metal flagons containing milk, constituted their rations.

They were then led down an incline which ended at what looked like a wall of rock. One of the Kru touched this rock, and a great slab of stone swung round on a pivot, showing an opening beyond.

"This is the path that leads to the Cave of the Fires!" he exclaimed. "We may go no further."

They stepped through the opening, Jim following in the rear to guard Tinta. As he did so he heard the great slab of stone close, and a feeling of terror seized upon him.

Supposing they could never open that door-way again? Supposing they were never to come back from this strange journey? He kept these thoughts to himself, however. If he were nervous and anxious Stanislaus Cripps on the other hand was quite unmoved.

"Interesting, boy! This is an experience. Let's get on. I want to get to the bottom of this."

They were in a long tunnel illuminated by a faint reddish light, the origin of which they were some time in discovering. Then they saw that the right side of the tunnel—which sloped steeply in a spinal—had, here and there high up in the roof, little openings from which this light came. Stanislaus Cripps paused to inspect these windows, only to discover that they were too high up for him to reach.

"Curious, boy, very curious! This is not a natural shaft. It has been dug by man. With the tools available it must have been the work of hundreds of years!"

After descending for nearly six hours they halted, exhausted, and Tinta prepared the food. Having eaten it, they lay down and slept.

The next day and the next day they continued their journey deeper and deeper into the heart of the earth. At the end of the third day there was a marked increase in the temperature, which excited Stanislaus Cripps' curiosity.

"For a moment, boy, I am at a loss to explain it, but doubtless we shall discover the cause soon."

They had been marching about three hours on the fourth day when, turning a bend of the spiral path, they saw before them a great cave. As if acting under some common impulse, they all halted.

From the floor of the cave intermittently leapt little vivid red jets of flame. Even as they stared at this phenomenon, from somewhere in the distance came a rumbling murmur that grew louder and louder. Jim felt Tinta grip his arm—saw her put her other hand before her eyes. A very panic of terror seized him.

Corning across the floor of the cave, like a pillar of dust raised by the wind on the desert, was a whirling cone of fire!

XXII. — THE PILLAR OF FLAME

SINCE his coming to the Buried World, Jim had passed through a series of experiences, terrifying enough, but the scene at which he now looked seemed the very last word in nightmare horrors.

The sense of the enormous distance they had descended, the remembrance of that rocky door which had closed behind them with such an ominous clang, their long journey down that spiral slope, the strange red illumination of the vast rocky vault along which they had passed—all these things had unconsciously affected the boy's mind, so that this climax came upon him when his nerves were already strained beyond endurance. With white cheeks and staring eyes he stood spellbound.

A dull roar was in his ears like the tumbling of many waters. In that cave, upon the threshold of which they stood, he saw the great pillar of flame gyrating on its axis as it moved in an ellipse across the floor. Jim felt a flush of enormous heat just as if he had been standing near a furnace when the doors were open.

Now that moving column of living flame had reached the apex of the ellipse and was moving backwards, leaving a little trail of fine dust in its wake. He saw it pass beyond him to those cavernous depths. Out of the darkness beyond a great pillar of stone leapt into view, like an object picked up by the headlights of a motor-car on a dark night.

He saw a great archway down which the column of fire passed, and then the Cave of the Fires was no longer lit by that blazing light. Only now and again, from some unseen fissures in the floor, those little spurts of flame shot upwards.

Tinta had sunk to the ground with her face buried in her hands. Masra was on his knees lying there with his head bowed. Jim felt an almost uncontrollable desire to follow his example.

It seemed to him that he was in the presence of some strange, all-powerful vital, before which the insignificant personality of Jim Maitland was but as a grain of dust. And then, as he stood there shuddering, robbed of all pride and self-consciousness—a very weak, immature creature in the presence of these mysterious forces, feeling literally like a worm—he heard a familiar voice.

"An amazing phenomenon. This is, indeed, an experience. It was well worth our journey, boy, even if we never get back!"

Something seemed to snap in Jim's brain. In the immensity of his terror, that booming unruffled voice had very much the same effect on him as if a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over him.

In spite of this latest nightmare, Stanislaus Cripps' courage was still undimmed, his immense greedy scientific curiosity still unblunted. There was no fear in that voice. Jim heard himself laugh, and somehow the laughter, though it was hysterical, braced his nerves and calmed his brain.

"As a precaution, boy, we will put on our diving dresses again. I remember reading somewhere a statement—purely frivolous, of course, but it's curious, boy, how these vain trifles remain in one's mind—made by an American paper. It said that when the final catastrophe of the world arrived, and the earth was ready to be devoured again by the sun, its reporter would be there in an asbestos suit collecting the very latest news. My metal is a great improvement on asbestos suitings, boy!"

On the first day of their journey to the Cave of the Fires they had removed their diving suits. Now, following Stanislaus Cripps' example, Jim began to don his armour. It was a difficult matter to rouse Masra, who had sunk into a very apathy of terror, but by dint of pulling him to his feet and dragging his legs into their metal casings the business was accomplished.

"Tinta," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed, speaking in the Kru language, which he had picked up with extraordinary facility during their trek from the Inner Cavern, "you'd better stay here, my dear. In the circumstances, over which we had no control, we omitted to provide you with one of these costumes, and it might not be safe for you to enter the Cave of Fires without one."

With a stride Stanislaus Cripps was by her side, and he patted her dark head with his gauntletted hand.

"There's nothing to be frightened of, Little One! Fear is an absurd thing, unworthy of a human creature. We won't leave you alone. Your father shall stay with you, while Jim and I carry out our investigations."

His voice was very gentle and tender as he spoke to Tinta, but it took on quite a different tone when he turned to Masra.

"Masra, you will stay here," he exclaimed imperiously. "I don't apprehend any danger, but should any approach, you have weapons which you can use effectively. There is the sleeping gas which I recommend in the first instance; in the last resort you can use your revolver. Those oxygen bullets, as you have seen, are very effective."

Masra, who seemed under the spell of that dominant courage, bowed his head submissively.

"Come on, boy!" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed with the eagerness of a schoolboy. "This certainly promises to be one of the most interesting experiences of my life!"

WITHOUT more ado Cripps strode across the threshold of the cave. Jim, hesitating, saw him set his metal-clad foot on one of those fissures from which the flames leapt. Those subterranean fires sprayed about his leg like water projected from a tap over which someone has placed his finger.

For a moment Jim wanted to cry out warningly, and then, as he saw Stanislaus Cripps walk on calmly he realised that this mysterious metal was literally immune to heat. Plucking up his courage he followed his companion.

"Somewhere here, boy, must be the being, or the intelligence, or whatever it is, that directs the domestic affairs of the Kru," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed as he drew level with him. "We must certainly find out who, or what, he is. As he sent for us he must be expecting us. It would have been more courteous, to one of my scientific attainments, had he been here to greet us with proper formality."

He flung hack his head as he spoke, and Jim was instantly reminded by the gesture of that evening when he had first met Stanislaus Cripps, and demanded the payment of his mother's account. It was with the very same haughtiness that he had refused to pay his debts, that he now criticised, what he was pleased to call, the lack of courtesy displayed by Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken.

"What do you think that column of fire was?" Jim stammered, talking, if the truth were known, for the sake of talking, feeling that anything was better than silence in these nightmare surroundings.

"As yet I have formed no theory, boy. Possibly some internal fire acting under immense pressure. It may be an emanation from the atmosphere. Let's keep our minds open, boy, and make use of our observation. That is the only true scientific attitude."

The roof of the cave was so high that, despite the flames which leapt from the floor, it was lost in obscurity. Unlike the caverns of the Kru world, it was covered with a fine dust which sparkled curiously. Presently Stanislaus Cripps' attention must have been attracted by this dust, for, stooping down, he picked up a handful of it. Jim heard him laugh.

"Do you know, boy, that we are treading on wealth which, if we could transport it to our own world, would upset the delicate balance of the money market? These are diamonds—diamonds of the finest water! With an ordinary broom and a pail we could collect enough to reduce the price of diamonds to that of pebbles!"

He thrust some of the glittering stones into the metal pouch that hung suspended from the belt about his waist.

"Boy, it is a curious reflection that I am now in a position, for the first time in my life, to pay my debts! And yet, what a foolish business is this system of tokens by which we exchange the commodities of life!"

He stooped down again as he spoke and picked up a diamond, about the size of a pigeon's egg. In imagination Jim could almost see his mocking grin as he turned to him.

"Boy, you inform me that I owe your mother a sum of sixteen and fivepence-halfpenny. Herewith I settle the account with interest, I imagine, at ten thousand per cent. Put it in your pouch, boy, and ask your mother to be good enough to let me have a receipt in due course!"

As he took the diamond and slipped it into the pouch at his waist, Jim felt the tears rise to his eyes. It was all very well for Stanislaus Cripps to give and mock and laugh; he had no being in the Outer World whom he loved and wanted.

Jim saw again the little general shop with its bottle-glass windows in Stagmore, and his mother's slim figure as she stood at the counter talking to customers. Almost, it seemed to him, he could hear her voice. Was he never going to see her again?

WITH that desolating feeling of home sickness heavy on his heart, Jim tramped in silence by Stanislaus Cripps' side for the better part of half an hour. Then at last, out of the gloom ahead of them, rose up that great pillar and the arched entrance of the tunnel down which he had seen the pillar of fire disappear.

"This is obviously our way, boy," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed, as they stood for a moment on the threshold of that tunnel.

He examined the pillar of rock, chipping at it with the sharp-bladed dagger that he carried at his side. Apparently he discovered nothing to excite his curiosity, for abruptly he turned his attention to the floor. An exclamation of astonishment escaped from his lips.

"Boy, look at this!" he exclaimed. "Talk about footsteps on the sands of time. These footsteps on the living rock have got them beaten to a frazzle!"

Following the direction of his gaze, Jim saw the course of Cripps' astonishment. There, clearly impressed on the stone, were the marks of a human naked foot—a well-shaped foot, with an instep so high that the joining between the heel and the base of the toes was hardly more than an inch wide. At first the full meaning of this discovery did not dawn upon him. It was not until Stanislaus Cripps explained that he really understood.

"These footprints might have been made upon the rock when it was in a liquid state, but we must reject that theory, boy, because the foot is unshod, and no human being could walk on the temperature of molten rock. We are forced, therefore, to the almost impossible deduction that these imprints have been made by human feet passing backwards and forwards over a period of countless years—a conclusion from which the mind naturally recoils, but which we must not reject on that account."

"Not that I can think of, boy. The floor is constructed of the hardest basalt. Though I scratch it with this knife, I can make no impression."

"But how could any one human being walk backwards and forwards here, sir, for the time necessary to make those footprints?"

"That, boy, is a problem—one of the very interesting problems which we shall have to solve. Let us continue."

He spoke with the air of a guide who was taking a party of tourists round a public museum.

"One thing is perfectly obvious, boy. We cannot do better than follow the track of these footsteps. They will lead us, presumably, to the person who made them, or to his remains. Perhaps they will bring us to the Being or the Intelligence who controls the domestic affairs of the Kru. Remember, boy, that we heard his voice in the Hall of the People, and we were certainly informed that he resided in the Cave of the Fires. Let's go and dig him out!"

One of the amazing things about Stanislaus Cripps was the way in which his conversation passed abruptly from the didactic language of a science lecturer to the slang of the ordinary schoolboy. Jim, recalling how Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken had demanded the sacrifice of Tinta, was quite unable to feel the same enthusiasm as his companion's. He had no burning desire to meet Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken.

"Possibly, boy. One has always to face that prospect. But I take some killing. I'm not a submissive mole, living in a hole, to be bossed about like the Kru. I may have my weaknesses, I may have my failings—though I doubt it—but of one thing I'm very certain, boy—that I am armed with knowledge, and if He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken catches me bending he'll be mighty smart!"

With a raucous chuckle he led the way into the tunnel, following the strange track of those footsteps in the rock. Now darkness closed upon them. From somewhere far away Jim could hear the rushing and rumbling of the pillar of fire.

Stanislaus Cripps switched on his electric torch and, holding it so that it cast a light on the ground, trudged on calmly. The tunnel followed a sweeping elliptical curve to which there seemed no end.

They had been walking for the best part of an hour when, ahead of them, they saw a faint light. This grew brighter and brighter as they pressed on. Now they could see what looked like a room raised some ten feet above the floor, and brilliantly lit.

Stanislaus Cripps' excitement so increased at the sight that he broke into a run. Ten minutes more and the details of that strange rocky chamber became clearer.

It was, Jim saw, about thirty feet square. A flight of steps led up to it from the floor of the tunnel. And it was furnished—actually furnished!

Jim could see what looked like a couch and a high-backed fantastic chair made of some metal that glittered yellow in the brilliant light. For once, even Stanislaus Cripps appeared staggered.

A few minutes more and they had reached the foot of the steps that led to the rocky chamber. Without hesitation Stanislaus Cripps began to climb upwards. Now he had gained the floor of that curious apartment. As he did so, a curtain that covered the wall facing him was drawn aside, and the most awe-inspiring figure that Jim had ever seen appeared!

XXIII. — IN THE UNKNOWN'S PRESENCE

JIM was quite unable to stifle the cry of alarm that rose to his lips. The apparition stood there, naked, save for a loin cloth of rich purple. He was six feet in height and his body was the most beautifully proportioned figure that Jim had ever seen. The white, perfectly moulded flesh, with its suggestion of great strength and agility, gave him the appearance of a Greek statue come to life.

And then Jim's stupefied gaze wandered to his face. It was that of a young man, hardly twenty, with an aquiline nose and straight, firm lips. And yet, somehow, that look of youth seemed to be a mask behind which there was untold age.

They had an unearthly quality. They were not the windows of this strange being's soul. There were no windows. The spirit of the man seemed to look clear and direct through those eyes. Jim felt a strange trance-like feeling come over him as those magnetic orbs were flashed for a moment in his direction.

Those were only his first, almost casual, impressions, and then he made another terrifying discovery. Beautiful as the man's figure was—perfect in shape and symmetry—it was as if the flesh were a mere transparency—a flimsy covering to some flaming, vital force. What the glass bulb is to the electric light, so the man's body was to the spirit behind it—a mere transparent covering!

Slowly, silently, with the tread of a panther and the grace of an athlete, this being moved away from the curtains towards the head of the stone stairs. Jim stood spellbound two steps below the level of the floor.

And then suddenly his attention was attracted by his companion. He had forgotten Stanislaus Cripps in the almost hypnotic trance in which this being had held him. Now that booming voice rang through the vaulted cavern.

"Greeting, Him-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken!" Cripps exclaimed in the Kru tongue, and then added in English for Jim's benefit: "Always assuming that he is that gentleman, boy!"

With perfect sangfroid, unmoved, as calm and casual in his behaviour as usual, Stanislaus Cripps moved towards this strange being. Jim saw those eyes suddenly blaze up like flames under the influence of a draught, and then a long, graceful arm was stretched out and his fingers touched the glistening helmet of Stanislaus Cripps' diving costume.

Whatever the intention of this being was, it was not a friendly one. Jim realised that in an instant, though how he arrived at the conclusion he was utterly unable to say. It was an act of hostility. It was as if this being had struck at Stanislaus Cripps with his fist. But its effect upon Stanislaus Cripps was just nothing at all.

Calmly be reached up his gauntletted hand and, seizing those beautifully fashioned fingers, gave them a quite prosaic handshake.

SUDDENLY those strange, shining eyes of He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken were dimmed as if a curtain had been drawn across them. A look of frank astonishment crept into that wonderful face. And then he spoke, and his voice was as clear and resonant as a silver bell.

"How come you to oppose my power," he exclaimed, "you who have descended in the Flying thing from the world of the Sun?"

"It would be a long story, O He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken," Stanislaus Cripps retorted, "and the terms I would have to use are of a technical kind such as your language does not contain."

"I am not trammelled by language. Speak to me in whatever tongue you please, and I will follow the passing of your thoughts as one follows a thread in a woven fabric!"

"A very interesting development of the still obscure science of telepathy, boy," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "I will test the exactness of his statement."

He had spoken in English. Instantly He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be Spoken made a gesture of indignation.

"I apologise," Stanislaus Cripps retorted. "You wanted to know how it came about that the electrical force you can apparently generate, did not have the effect you expected when you touched my head just now. This is not my head. It is an outer covering that I have assumed. My head is inside, and just like yours."

Seeing that Stanislaus Cripps was quite the ugliest man that Jim had ever seen, while this being had a radiant beauty that was unearthly, the statement sounded a little incongruous.

"The metal which you touched is one of my own invention," went on Cripps. "Among its other qualities, it is a nonconductor—that is to say, no current can pass through it. Hence your experiment was a failure. As I intend to continue wearing this costume during the remainder of the interview—which I am confident is going to prove of the greatest interest to both of us—it will remain a failure, if repeated."

He cocked his head on one side and, though his face was hidden by the helmet of his diving dress, the gesture somehow suggested the grave mockery of his features.

"I hope I make myself clear?" he added. HE—somehow Jim was beginning to think of him by that shortened term—stared down into the lenses that covered Stanislaus Cripps' eyes.

"All that is in your mind, I can see, like the reflection of a mirror. You are very proud—very self-satisfied—very sure that your puny knowledge has raised you far above the heads of your fellow men. Even towards ME your attitude is one of condescension."

His gaze became more concentrated as he spoke. He leaned a little towards Stanislaus Cripps, his beautifully shaped hands making weaving passes in the air.

"We have both a very proper appreciation of our own value," Stanislaus Cripps retorted. "I may have limitations, but I am not aware of them. I am aware, however, that the sort of fool tricks you're trying to play won't cut any ice. I'm proof against hypnotism. Let's cut out the parlour magic and talk like sensible beings."

JIM saw HE wince when Stanislaus Cripps, as if to set their relations on a proper footing, moved coolly across to the couch and seated himself on the edge.

"How long have you been here?" he inquired, as if he were a newspaper reporter interviewing some man of the moment.

Again that look of uncertainty and surprise crossed HE's face, marring somehow the cold beauty of it. Though Jim had recovered his nerve from the example of coolness Stanislaus Cripps had set, he was filled with a curious uneasiness.

It seemed to him that HE, though he masked his feelings, regarded Stanislaus Cripps with intense dislike. How he got the idea, he could not conceive, but it seemed to him that HE was fiercely jealous, as of some rival power that had obtruded itself upon his world.

Jim felt danger, though he could not see from what source it was to come. And even as these thoughts flashed through his mind, HE pointed to him, addressing Stanislaus Cripps.

"This one is young—a mere child. He knows fear. Just now he was trembling when he looked at me. Has he the art of reading the thoughts in a man's mind without the aid of words?"

What was behind that question suddenly dawned upon Jim. By some means or another—for some reason he was utterly at a loss to understand—he was getting vague impressions of what was passing through HE's mind.

"No, I have to talk to him," replied Cripps. "He's a reasonably intelligent boy for his age. But let us get on to serious matters. As you will realise, there is much that I wish to learn and understand. How long have you been here?"

HE seated himself on that strangely shaped chair. Somehow it formed a suitable frame to the magic wonder of his presence.

"You have seen my footsteps on the rock. I heard you discussing them with him you call Boy. How long do you think it would take these unshod feet of mine to make those impressions?"

"Anything over four thousand years," Stanislaus Cripps replied coolly. "But how have you lived for such a length of time? You seem to me a young man. In the world of the sun, three score years and ten are supposed to be the span of a man's life. I am ready to believe that it could be lengthened. Perhaps you have discovered the secret?"

"I, too, was born under the sun. I have seen the blue sky and the green grass, the flowers growing, and heard the murmur of the blue sea!"

"You must find these surroundings something of a change," Stanislaus Cripps remarked dryly. "If you would like to go up there again and renew your acquaintance with the life of the sun, I shall be delighted to take you on my Flying Submarine. But just when did you decide to take up your abode here, sir?"

HE stretched out his arms with his hands open. His figure became rigid. Jim, watching him, saw sparks fly from one hand to the other. Gradually there formed between his palms a little ball of flame that grew bigger and bigger.

"Look, O Shining One," came HE's voice. "You will see without the need of words."

XXIV. — THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED

JIM was crouched on the floor by Stanislaus Cripps' side now, with a vague intention of defending him against any threatened treachery. He looked into that strange ball of flame that hung suspended in the air.

Gradually into the heart of it there crept a dark shadow that grew and spread. Then it took form and colour. A picture appeared—a living picture like the projected shadow that gathers on a cinema screen.

He saw a luxuriant tropical world, all vivid greens and blues, the palm trees stirred by a gentle breeze. And, out of this sea of green, there rose great pyramids and vast buildings of strange architecture.

Swiftly the scene changed, and he knew he was looking into one of those great buildings. A vast crowd was collected there, lying with their faces on the ground as if in adoration. In the background was a dais on which a golden throne was set, and on that golden throne was HE!

Now again the scene changed with the swiftness of a film. The sky had grown dark. From the hills behind the pyramids and buildings, flames and smoke were being vomited. He saw the population rushing about panic-stricken. From the sea came a great wave that swept over the land. The earth seemed to open. Jim was hard put to it not to cry out as he saw that pleasant world sink and disappear.

"And that, boy, if I am not mistaken," Stanislaus Cripps' voice boomed in a tone of congratulation, "is the Lost Continent which originally we set out to find."

"Look, O Shining One," came HE's voice. "You are hungry for knowledge. Look and see and speak not!"

And now within that ball of fire a strange scene of chaos and confusion was depicted. That pleasant tropical world of green and blue was sinking—sinking down into the bowels of the earth! Jim could see the temples and pyramids crumble and fall. He could see the people, prone upon the ground, trembling in their terror!

And then again the picture changed, and there appeared the Outer Cavern, with its blue atmosphere. HE was walking there. About him gathered the people, looking up at him with hands stretched out in entreaty.

"That is how the Kru came to this world," HE exclaimed. "Does anything yet remain of our great empire, O Shining One?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Cripps. "There are some statues on Easter Island which have greatly troubled a number of poor archaeologists. For the rest, the sea got the lot. But please continue this very interesting entertainment. How came you to find this place?"

Even as he asked the question, the ball of fire quivered and changed. There again was the great temple. HE—a very youthful figure—was shown raising a slab in the floor. Bound about his back was a bundle that presumably contained food. He passed into the darkness beneath. Now he was descending a tunnel.

It was a long descent, and he seemed very much as if he were going into the heart of a volcano, for now and again flames leapt up about him, and the picture was blurred by clouds of smoke.

Then suddenly they saw before them the very cave in which they were seated, and the strange column of fire moving across the floor. HE, stripped of all his clothes, was standing in the very path of that column of fire!

Now it lapped about his figure, and he raised his arms above his head and drew in the flames, as if beating his face with them. The column of fire moved on, leaving him there, with a strange, radiant glow emanating from his body.

"Humph!" said Stanislaus Cripps. "Extremely interesting, my dear sir. And I take it that when the catastrophe took place and you and your people sunk like a lift down a shaft into the interior of the earth, you found yourself on more or less familiar ground? You made your way to this cave, and you have lived here—exactly how long?"

"Years that cannot be counted, O Shining One. You have seen the Outer and the Inner Caves. How long, think you, did it take the Falta—who, in our kingdom under the sun, were slaves—to develop into their present state? How long, think you, it took for the milch cows that fell with us from the sunlight to adapt themselves to their surroundings, and lose their accustomed shape and form? How long, think you, it took the Kru to frame and fashion the chambers and corridors of the Inner Cavern?"

Stanislaus Cripps stroked the back of his helmet as if he wanted to ruffle his hair—an action he had when puzzled or annoyed.

"It is certainly within the realms of possibility that life might be prolonged for a very lengthy period—but, ten thousand years, my dear sir! Still granting your thesis, may I be informed exactly how you have accomplished the remarkable feat?"

"Look and you shall see! Even now, it comes—the life-giving fire—the flames that are food and drink for me!"

XXV. — THE LIFE-GIVING FIRE

HE rose from his chair and stood for a moment in an attitude of attention. Now from afar off they could hear that rushing and rumbling that heralded the approach of the column of fire.

"If you would conquer death, O Shining One, and share with me the world's greatest secret, come—you shall be also in the fire. But first you must take off that metal dress you wear!"

"I should be delighted to indulge in such an experience," he exclaimed. "It won't take a moment to take off this diving suit."

Even as he uttered the words, Jim was conscious of a sinister feeling of impending evil. He saw HE watching Stanislaus Cripps, his wonderful eyes glowing mysteriously. Jim jumped to his feet and laid his hand on Stanislaus Cripps' shoulder, just as the scientist was beginning to unscrew the headpiece of his diving suit.

"Mr. Cripps you mustn't!" Jim exclaimed. "He intends treachery—I know it! Don't you see that once you've taken off the diving suit you will have no protection against this electrical force he is able to exercise? Oh, please, Mr. Cripps!"

A shadow crept across the beauty of HE's face. He stared fixedly at Jim, but spoke no word. Stanislaus Cripps, with his hands still raised above his head, twisted back the headpiece.

"Thanks, boy. On more mature consideration, I believe your advice to be sound. There's no use running unnecessary risks."

"Between the exercise of reasonable precautions and that demoralising emotion known as Fear, there is, my dear sir, a great gulf, though you may not be aware of it. I have visited you here at some inconvenience. Your greeting of me was hardly such as should have been extended to a man of my scientific eminence. You unquestionably tried to electrocute me by causing to pass through my body some of the current with which you are so highly charged. Such behaviour, in my view, justifies a reasonable doubt of your bona fides. I have no intention of taking off this diving suit until I'm very much better acquainted with you. In short, there's nothing doing!"

HE strode swiftly towards Cripps and laid his finely moulded hands upon the other's shoulders. Jim, watching the scene, reflected that, supposing HE had lived for that enormous period to which he laid claim, this must be the first occasion on which he had been thwarted since his childhood—ten thousand years ago! There was no anger in his face—indeed, it was hard to trace any human emotion in those radiant features—only that shadow came again like a blind pulled down before a lighted window.

As he spoke, he twisted the headpiece of the diving suit. The headpiece was kept in its place by a system of intermittent screws. One sharp turn to the right and it would come away in his hand. With amazing agility, as if foreseeing what was about to happen, Stanislaus Cripps twisted his body in the same direction, and, as he spun round and faced HE again, ducked, and slipped from his hold.

"If you dare to attempt such a thing again," the scientist exclaimed, his voice booming with passion, "I'll prove to you that the longest life can have an end!"

"Come a step further, and I'll blow you to smithereens! Understand me—I'm a man of peace; I never act hastily. I never lose my temper, but if you try any of your darned tricks, you're for it, my son!"

If the description of himself was hardly accurate—for a more violent, hasty-tempered man it would be hard to find—his pugnacity and indomitable courage had their effect even upon HE.

"Do you think, O Shining One, that with that toy you could bring death to one who has bathed in the living flames?" he inquired, with that wintry smile on his lips.

"As there are a great number of matters on which I desire to get information, I shouldn't put the question to the test if I were you," Stanislaus Cripps replied grimly. "When you lived up in the sunlight, the barbarous science of armaments was in a very primitive state of development. Since then we have improved matters considerably. In a recent little scrap, in which a trifle of ton million human beings were engaged, they were able to kill at seventy miles, and this weapon of mine is the last word in destructiveness. You say that you can see what is passing in the world with your mind? Recollect a little scrap about two days ago outside the Inner Cavern, when the Kru drove back the Falta with their liquid fire?"

"I saw it, O Shining One. There was a slave who disobeyed my word—a girl whom you rescued from the place of execution. She was seized by the Kru."

"And you may recollect that we intervened in that scrap," Stanislaus Cripps remarked quietly. "The boy there fired the first of my cartridges that has ever been used against a human being. It didn't leave much of the poor fellow it hit, did it?"

"I saw that, O Shining One. He was there, and he was not. I could not make out what had become of him. You say that it was that toy you hold in your hand that caused him to break up and vanish before my eves?"

"You've got it. This is the very identical weapon that did the trick. I've no wish to fire it again, but in the event of your trying any of your tricks with me, it will have to be done!"

"Let us converse, my dear sir, like intelligent human beings, not like barbarians. I see this very extraordinary column of fire is approaching. You were about to give us an illustration of the purpose to which you put it. Perhaps you will have the goodness to continue?"

With a roar like thunder the great whirling column of fire was approaching. HE turned swiftly and, descending the stone stairs, gained the floor of the tunnel below. There he waited, straight in the path of that moving fiery column. It drew near swiftly. As its outer edge touched him, HE thrust his hands into the very heart of it. The next instant he stood there, encased in that veil of flame!

XXVI. — "YOU MUST DIE!"

"LOOKS to me, boy as if he's recharging himself like an accumulator that's run down." said Stanislaus Cripps. "I must have been wrong in my hasty diagnosis of that column of fire. It's electric—a sort of St. Elmo's light on a big scale. He couldn't monkey about like that in a real fire—unless, of course, he's got the receipt from Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego."

The column of fire was only a few feet from the open end of the rocky chamber in which they were seated and both Jim and Stanislaus Cripps realised that their original estimate of its quality had been mistaken.

It was not some volcanic emanation generated in the atmosphere, and forced through the rocky floor of the tunnel. It was more like an electric wave, and the sharp crackling sounds that came from the body of the column as HE laved his body in that mysterious fire appeared to support this theory.

HE seemed to be literally soaring himself in that mysterious light. They could see him drawing the air into his lungs in great gulps like someone indulging in breathing exercises. And then the column of fire had passed, and HE was standing there, unscathed, unmarked, with a new radiant effulgence shining in his eyes and face!

Like a highly-trained athlete who has fed and rested, who feels all his energies renewed. HE sprang at a bound up the steps and stood in front of them. It may have been an hallucination, but it seemed to Jim that his beautifully moulded flesh glowed and glittered and sparkled.

"That, O Shining One, is the Secret of Life!" HE exclaimed, and his vibrant melodious voice was full of a note of triumph.

"Very interesting my dear sir," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "Do you understand the nature of that column of fire? I am anxious to get at the scientific explanation of the phenomena."

"Come, come my dear sir," he exclaimed. "You mistake your audience. I'm not one of the Kru people. I am Stanislaus Cripps—a scientist of some standing—and those sort of bogy explanations don't cut any ice with me."

"You are full of pride and vanity, but what is your puny knowledge worth when laid in the balance of the unsolved mysteries of life? That is the vital force—the fire that renews, the secret of everlasting existence!"

"I know that sort of charlatan talk," Stanislaus Cripps growled. "You discovered this column of fire by chance, and somehow or other lighted upon its extraordinary properties. But you can't explain it, and you hide your ignorance by using such nonsensical terms as 'the spirit of life,' and 'the vital force.' That's the sort of bunk they chuck about in the offices of a Bond Street palmist!"

Jim saw again that strange dimming of HE's eyes, by which alone he seemed to express the human emotion of anger.

"For countless ages I have lived here, O Shining One. Twice daily have I performed the rite which you have just witnessed, renewing my body and my strength without the need of food. And you dare to tell me that I do not understand what I am talking about?"

"It's quite clear, sir that you've made a discovery of first class importance," said Cripps. "I'm not denying that. It would be foolish to do so. What I say is that you've wasted your time shockingly—that with all these opportunities to observe and note and deduce, you've discovered absolutely nothing about the nature of this column of fire."

Somehow Jim got the impression that Stanislaus Cripps was no longer regarding HE with scientific detachment. The vehemence of his tone suggested personal rancour. HE dropped gracefully into his fantastic chair, and sat there with his arms folded.

"I wait to be instructed," HE said at last, with a wintry smile. "Doubtless you, who have lived such a short while, have much to tell me?"

"A great deal, my dear sir, but as we should have to begin with the very elements of science, I'm afraid I have neither the time nor the inclination even to commence the task. We should be better employed if you were to answer the questions I am about to put to you!"

"By a process of telepathy, which you have naturally developed to a very high state during your prolonged existence, you direct the domestic activities of the Kru—the remnant of the people who were projected into this underworld with you at the time of the great catastrophe. That is quite understandable.

"Freed from the necessity of eating any food, you have developed your mental processes to such a high extent that you can see things happening at some distance away, which would be concealed from ordinary eyes.

"For example, you saw the destruction of the unfortunate Kru man by one of my oxygen cartridges though you were quite unable to explain how it happened. There are some obvious gaps to this reasoning, but when I get down to the proper study of the matter, I have no hesitation in saying that I shall be able to fill them up."

Somehow, it seemed to Jim that Stanislaus Cripps was deliberately stripping HE of all his supernatural grandeur. He was reducing him to an ordinary human being, and that clouded look on HE's face suggested that HE was far from pleased.

"What opportunities do you think, O Shining One, you will have of studying these matters? HE inquired.

"As I intend to honour you with my presence for some time—until I have arrived at the true scientific explanation of this phenomena—I shall have plenty of opportunities. For example, I have already solved one matter which puzzled me. You were able to project your voice into the Hail of the People, which, at a rough estimate, must be situated some nine or ten miles above this place. Rock, of course, is a great conductor of sound, and with your body highly charged with electricity, you are able to broadcast your voice in the same way as the British Broadcasting Corporation distribute music to listeners in at very much greater distances."

"You say that you can speak across the void? O Shining One you are saying the thing that is not!"

"Done it for years, my dear sir! One of the toys of science! Even the boy here, with a few scraps of wire, could make a wireless apparatus quite as effective as yours. But we need not waste time with such matters. Naturally there must be a limit to the period of my visit, and there is much information that I wish to accumulate.

"I understand that you exerted yourself to save the remnant of your people who were hurled into this buried world at the time of the great catastrophe," continued Cripps. "Why did you permit the evolution of the Falta? They are abnormalities that should have been wiped out."

"For the sake of the Kru themselves, I permitted the Falta to live and develop. Combat and fear are necessary to the healthy growth of people. The Kru would have become soft, luxurious undisciplined, were not the shadow of the Falta always at their door."

Jim could hear Stanislaus Cripps groan like one who listens to sentiments which he regards as barbarous and iniquitous.

"Quite wrong, my dear sir—an exploded theory that man must feel insecure if he is to survive! And I suppose it is due to the same curious lack of intelligence that you permit these outrageous rites, with one of which we had to interfere? I refer to the attempted barbarous execution of the very charming girl who accompanied us on this journey."

HE sprang to his feet. Jim turned away his head, for the fires emanating from those eyes was something he had never experienced before. It shook him to the very foundations of his being. It seemed almost as if Stanislaus Cripps' wonderful metal were not proof against that magnetic influence.

"O Shining One, I have listened to you with patience. No one has dared to speak to me as you have spoken to me, to question my word and my authority! Am I to debate with you the administration of my law? You say you have come here for knowledge. Perhaps you will get the knowledge, but of what service will it be to you, seeing that you can never pass with it out of here?"

"I shall return by the same way I came," Stanislaus Cripps replied. "In due course, when I have accumulated all the information I require, I shall return in my flying submarine to the Outer World I am quite prepared to give you a lift, my dear sir, if you would care to accompany me. A change to our world might have a very refreshing effect upon your mind."

HE pointed a finger that seemed to vibrate with the terrific vital force with which he was possessed.

"You puny fool! You will never leave here! Already the food you brought with you is nearly exhausted. If you could make your way to the gate, no Kru will open it for you, and the secret is unknown to you. You will perish here miserably. You cannot steal the flame of life, for to do so you must remove your shining covering and then—"

HE stared at Stanislaus Cripps with that wintry smile on his beautiful face that somehow suggested incalculable age.

"We shall be at your mercy," Stanislaus Cripps interrupted in a calm voice. "My dear sir, I quite appreciate that fact. But I have no intention of doffing this diving-dress. As for making our way out of this place, that remains to be seen. Now let us return to the subject we were discussing. Before we part, my dear sir, I should like to impress upon you how barbarous and unscientific are the methods by which you seek to maintain order among the Kru!"

Cripps crossed one leg over the other, folding his gauntletted hands over his knee.

"Just consider the perfectly absurd crime for which you would have sacrificed that very charming girl, Tinta. To prevent the Falta sacrificing one of the Kru to their very unpleasant idol, you promulgate a ban forbidding the Kru to leave the Inner Cavern a few days before the rite is due to be celebrated. The precaution, I admit, is a reasonable one. It displays a human interest in the welfare of the Kru, which does you credit. But to make death the punishment for disobedience, when seven days' imprisonment with, or without, the option of a fine, would be more than a sufficient penalty, is barbarous and cruel!"

The effect of his measured words on HE were remarkable. HE raised his hands above his head as if calling down maledictions on Stanislaus Cripps. A string of words in a language which neither of them understood poured from his lips. From between the open palms of his hands, flashes passed backwards and forwards. An aura as of flame seemed to emanate from his body. Then of a sudden he began to speak in the Kru tongue.

"You O Shining One, who have dared to tell me what I shall do and what I shall not do—you shall see how I value your advice! You shall see it, before you die miserably of starvation on the path that leads to the closed gate. Is my justice and my law to be set aside, to be held as a subject of debate and discussion between He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, who is Lord of the Living Flame, Master of the Under World, and a puny mortal whose life is but a moment?"

XXVII. — MORE MAGIC

"THAT seems to have got him on the raw, boy!" Stanislaus Cripps muttered to Jim in an aside. "I thought, if I tried long enough, I should find a way of galling his outrageous self-satisfaction. Boy, he's just a prig with a secret that he doesn't even understand!"

It was clear that Stanislaus Cripps had taken a violent dislike to HE. But Jim was not thinking of these personal animosities; in his ears was the clang of the swinging slab of stone, as it had closed behind them when they had set out on their journey to the Cave of the Fires; in his mind was the thought of perishing, miserably trapped in that underworld.

"Oh, Mr Cripps, don't make him angry!" he whispered "How shall we get out of here again?"

"There's more ways of killing a pig than by cutting its throat, boy!" Stanislaus Cripps retorted. "Anyway, I'd sooner die than give this fellow the satisfaction of thinking he can get across with his cheap parlour magic!"

HE had turned away from them, and was standing on the edge of the platform, his hands still raised above his head, a glowing, radiant figure.

"You shall see my justice that you scorn!" he cried. "You sought to stand between me and her on whom I have passed judgment. You shall see how He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken deals with her!"

"You who broke my law—you who were rescued from the sacrificial stone by these Shining Ones—come hither that the justice of He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken may be performed on you!"

That melodious, vibrant voice went echoing through the vaulted roof. Then his arms fell to his side, and, with that wintry smile upon his lips, he turned and seated himself again on his fantastic chair.

Jim could hear his heart pounding against his ribs. What was this terrible thing that was about to happen? How could he force Tinta to come to that place? And if she came—if, by his strange power, he could draw her there—what was to be her fate?

He forgot his own desperate situation—he forgot everything in this thought of the girl whose loyalty and companionship and friendship were more to him than life itself.

"Quiet boy!" the other retorted. "The time for talking is over. He is doing what he would call a big magic. I suppose. This, he reckons, is about the last round between us, and he thinks he holds the winning punch. We'll see, boy. Keep cool and don't get excited. I've still got a few cards up my sleeve!"

STILLNESS as of death pervaded the great cavern, and in that profound silence the time passed so slowly that every second seemed a minute and every minute an hour. Heavier and heavier upon Jim's heart and brain there weighed the gloom of a tragic foreboding. Tinta was in danger, but the nature of that danger and how it was to come upon her was hidden from him!

Suddenly HE, still with that wintry world-old smile upon his lips, stirred in his chair. He glanced at Jim.

"The boasting Shining One still comforts himself with the thought that he can perchance pit himself against my power; but the other—him you call boy—is afraid. He knows that nothing can withstand me. He fears the coming of my judgment! Look, O Shining Ones, and I will show you your thoughts!"

He drew his hands apart, palm open, and instantly that ball of flame appeared, and in the heart of it there formed gradually a vision like the picture on a cinema screen.

They both stared into that strange picture. There was Stanislaus Cripps himself, with HE lying at his feet. On Stanislaus Cripps' face there was an expression of sublime condescension. The picture faded and another took its place—a representation of the thoughts that had been passing through Stanislaus Cripps' mind during that long silence.

The scene was a big public hall, packed with grey-haired, grave-looking men, who were all gazing with an air of reverence at a platform on which stood the figure of Stanislaus Cripps. He was in evening dress, with a somewhat flamboyant flower in his buttonhole. One hand was stroking his red beard and there was a smile of infinite pity on his lips for the poor unfortunate ignoramuses in the body of the hall.

"Dream your dreams, O Shining One! May they comfort you in the hour that is coining, when you will know what it is to hunger and thirst, and there is none to give you either food or water!"

Jim heard Stanislaus Cripps sniff. Then, as if ashamed of the excitement and interest he had betrayed, he settled himself again on the edge of the couch.

Out of the heart of the flaming ball appeared the sweet face of Tinta. She was smiling—a smile of infinite love and friendship. Jim's own figure appeared by her side. He was holding her hand—saying something to her. And even as he was speaking, a great shining hand appeared and touched the girl upon the forehead. Jim saw her give a convulsive start; her features grew rigid; and then swiftly out of her face there passed all semblance of life!

"He knows—he fears—he understands!" came the voice of HE "He has given his heart to this girl who dared to disobey my law. You shall see justice done!"

"Steady, boy," came Stanislaus Cripps' warning voice as Jim, almost mad with despair, made as if to spring at HE. "A lot can he done by waiting."

"Still dreaming of that which is impossible, O Shining One?" HE exclaimed mockingly. "But the time of dreams draws to an end. Lo, even now she on whom I must do Justice draws near!"

Even as HE uttered the words, from down the rocky corridor came the sound of metal-clad feet. Instinctively both Jim and Cripps turned their eyes in that direction.

There, coming towards them, but still half a mile away, looking curiously small in perspective, were Tinta and Masra. The girl was walking with her figure absolutely rigid, her eyes staring straight in front of her, while behind her was Masra in his shining armour.

"Patience, O Shining Ones, and you shall see!" HE exclaimed. "Death is so near yourselves that you cannot mind to see another die!"

They sat spell-bound as slowly those two figures approached the rocky chamber. HE had sunk back in his chair with his hand half covering his face. Nearer drew Tinta. Jim could see that she was like one walking in her sleep, her eyes absolutely expressionless. Now she paused at the foot of the rocky stairs.

Her voice was curiously monotonous. All trace of her soft merry tones had vanished. Masra had dropped on his knees, and had buried his face in his hands.

HE stirred like one whose attention has been drawn to some trifle of no particular importance.

"You are she they call Tinta! I have brought you here, Tinta, that these Shining Ones may see the justice that I mete out to those who disobey my law. Before the coming of the light, when the Falta prepare their sacrifices, there was issued at my command a ban forbidding any of the Kru to leave the Inner Cavern. You heard that ban, Tinta?"

"No, O Lord of the Spirit of Life. One they call Krim—who came from the world of the sun, and was made blood brother with my father according to our rites—had a message sent him by the Thing-That-Makes-Light, telling him that his friend had been taken prisoner by the Falta and was about to be sacrificed. He went to aid him, and I went with him, my father also."

"You speak truth, Tinta. Because he was your father's blood brother and you loved him, you left the Inner Cavern after the ban bad been announced." HE's voice had grown suddenly sweet and melodious. "For his sake you broke the law!"

Tinta's frozen lips moved, but for a moment no sound came from them. Then she uttered one word in a voice so low that it was hardly audible.

"True, Tinta. There is no use trying to evade the law. Come and receive your punishment!"

Slowly the girl began to ascend the stone steps. Now she had reached the floor level. At that moment Masra, in spite of the terrors which possessed him, jumped to his feet and, clearing the stairs at a bound, caught Tinta in his arms.

"They shall not take you, Tinta, or if He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken will show no mercy, he must take me too!"

Jim could see that Masra was struggling with all his strength to lift Tinta in his arms and force her back into the tunnel, but for some mysterious reason he was unable to move her.

XXVIII. — THE LAST OF "HE"

AS HE uttered that command, the girl, with supernatural strength, thrust her father aside and began slowly to advance towards the fantastic chair on which that terrible being was seated.

Jim could no longer contain himself. He could not sit there and watch while this girl, who meant so much to him, was stretched dead before his very eyes.

But even as he meditated a violent assault upon HE, Stanislaus Cripps had sprung to his feet. At one stride he had placed himself between HE and Tinta.

"Now listen to me, my dear sir," his voice boomed. "I can stand a lot, but there are limits. I wish you no harm—in fact I imagine that the information you have at your disposal after such a prolonged existence might, if properly sifted and collated, prove of some minor benefit to the world at large—but the trifling advantages that might accrue to humanity would be quite outweighed by any violence done to this child.

"In short, my dear sir." added Cripps, "if you intend to use any of your monkey tricks—if you are proposing to pass some of the extremely powerful current you generate in your own body into the body of this child, thereby causing her death—I may as well tell you at once that there's nothing doing!"

"And do you think you can withstand my power, O Shining One? I grow impatient. Away—my justice cannot wait!"

Tinta was still slowly moving towards the chair. Now she was standing immediately behind Stanislaus Cripps. He turned swiftly and put his metal arm about her waist as if to stay her further progress.

"Cut it out, you lunatic," he cried, "or, by Heaven, I'll put an end to your life!"

Ignoring this threat—obviously believing himself immune from any danger from Stanislaus—HE slowly approached the girl, who was struggling wildly and raised his hand.

He had drawn his revolver and was standing there—a very squat, square-shouldered figure in his shining armour, looking indeed like a medieval knight with Tinta in the role of distressed maiden.

"O Shining One," HE mocked, "do you think your toys can frighten me who have bathed in the Fire of Life? I will do my justice while she yet remains in your arms!"

HE stretched out his hand swiftly. The tips of those beautiful fingers had come within an inch of Tinta's forehead, when there was an ear-splitting report. Jim staggered horrified to his feet.

All about him there was fire and a light so vivid that it almost blinded him. Lightning flashed from floor to ceiling, and the crackling of those giant sparks sounded like thunder. He had a vision of HE standing there one moment and the next dissolved—there was hardly any other word for it—into a myriad flashes of light!

He was vaguely conscious of Stanislaus Cripps, still with the smoking revolver in his hand, flinging Tinta on the ground, and lying on top of her, as if shielding her with his body.

For several appalling seconds the electrical disturbance was continued. Then abruptly it died away, leaving that rocky chamber empty save for the unconscious figure of Tinta, and her father, and Stanislaus Cripps and Jim. He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken had vanished—vanished, like a piece of paper in a flame.

STANISLAUS CRIPPS rose slowly to his feet. For a moment he looked dully at the smoking revolver in his hand—and then he opened the breach and, taking out the empty cartridge, let it drop with a rattle on the floor. He gave a shake of his shoulders.

"That's the end of that fool, boy!" he exclaimed. "Homicide isn't much in my line. I have killed, even with satisfaction, some of those solicitors' clerks, process servers and bailiffs who bothered me at Widgery Dene; but this cold-blooded business is distinctly out of my line. But he asked for it and he got it!"

"The pig-headed fool! I've always heard that old men get cantankerous and self-opinionated, and if a man lives as long as he did, the qualities become abnormally exaggerated, I suppose. I gave him fair warning, but he just wouldn't listen. And now we have lost, boy, entirely through his own fault, one of the most interesting specimens of mankind that the world has any record of. And there were still a large number of questions that I wanted to put to him."

But Jim was not listening to this discourse. He had dropped on his knees by Tinta's side, calling out her name.

For a while she lay there motionless, so that a horror seized upon the boy that she was dead. Then, quite suddenly, she opened her eyes. For a moment she stared dazedly up at his helmeted figure, and then, perhaps, glimpsed his eyes through their lenses, for she suddenly smiled.

"You're quite safe, Tinta," Jim stammered, the sudden relaxation of the terrible strain he had been through rendering his words almost incoherent. "And Masra is here with you!"

"Hallo, little girl! Come round, have you?" Stanislaus Cripps broke in. "None the worse, I hope?"

Tinta rose to her feet. It was clear from the look of amazement that crept into her face as she glanced round that strange rocky chamber, that she was unconscious of ever having seen it before.

"Where is this place you have brought me to?" she exclaimed, "and how did I come here?"

"I remember. I was sitting talking to Masra when I heard his summons that none may disobey. I have broken the ban—I was to die!"

"That's all off," Stanislaus Cripps retorted in a cheerful robust voice. "You see, my dear, he brought you here in a state of hypnosis—but there, you don't understand that word—you were asleep and yet you could walk—see? He was going to kill you. A horribly cold-blooded person he was. So I had no alternative but to kill him. He is dead. You have nothing to worry about, Tinta."

"Quite dead!" Stanislaus Cripps boomed. "His passing was swift and, I trust, painless. It created one of the most interesting electrical disturbances I have ever witnessed. I was frightened that you might be struck. So I did my best to shelter you with my armour."

He was interrupted at that moment by someone clutching his feet. Looking down he saw that Masra had crawled to the spot where he was standing, and was abasing himself before him.

"O Hairy One, O Slayer-Of-He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, what is there that I can do? How can I show my gratitude to you? You have given me back my little flower, you have plucked her from death at the hands of the Terrible One!"

"That's all right, Masra. Glad to have been of service to you and Tinta. But don't crawl about there man, like a worm. We're serious human beings, who've got to think of our future!"

He flung himself into the chair that had lately enfolded the radiant form of HE.

"HE was right then. Extraordinary gift that of his, boy. Might have been turned to some real use had he survived. We've got one day's ration, and it's the better part of four days' journey to the gate! It's going to be a problem of endurance, boy. The longer we stay here the hungrier we shall be, so we'd best be moving!"

XXIX. — THE RETURN JOURNEY

"I think I must spare half an hour to inspect this place," he said. "Strange, when you come to think of it, boy, HE living here all these thousands of years, and charging himself from day to day from the column of fire."

"I was thinking, boy, that as that column of fire is a substitute for food and drink, we might charge ourselves with sufficient energy to make the journey to the gate. But it's too big a risk. HE was able to take the bath regularly. We should only be able to take it once, and when the energy began to disperse, it would probably leave us in a worse state than we were before. I think not boy."

Cripps sprang from his chair, and, striding across the floor, pulled back the curtain. Beyond was yet another chamber, empty save for a couch and a huge box made of some curious inlaid wood.

As Stanislaus Cripps raised the lid, part of the woodwork dissolved into fine powder in his hands, and examining it, he saw that there were innumerable holes in it, not unlike those fretted by a moth in a garment. Inside the box there was nothing but layers and layers of dust.

"I expect HE rescued these things from the great catastrophe," Cripps exclaimed. "HE outlived them. They grew old and decayed while HE lived on in perpetual youth. There's nothing here, boy, that we need waste our time on."

With one last look at that rocky apartment where they had undergone such amazing experiences, the four intrepid adventurers turned their faces to the entrance to the Cave of Fires. Once during their journey, the great column of fire came rushing and rumbling past them.

Tinta who was the only one of the party who was not wearing a diving dress, had been dragging along wearily as if her strength were almost spent; but when the column of fire had past, she turned to Jim with a radiant smile.

"Lucky for you, my dear," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed, overhearing the remark. "You'll want it all before we're through."

They gained the exit to the Cave of Fires at last, then passed out into that spiral tunnel beyond. The bag with their provisions was lying there on the ground. One glance at it showed them that Tinta's estimate of their stores had been somewhat optimistic. There was hardly more than enough for half a day—and four days journey lay before them!

"We'll divide it up," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "Each must carry his share and eat as discretion suggests. My advice is to do without food for as long as possible."

Of the water they had brought with them, only one bottle remained. Stanislaus Cripps took possession of this.

"I'll serve out the rations," he exclaimed. "I'm afraid we shall all be somewhat thirsty before we finish the climb!"

AND they began a march which Jim was never to forget. For the first day it was fairly endurable, and after they had slept and rested and nibbled at their rations, the first hour of the second day was passable. But then the strain began to tell.

The sight of the spiral slope ahead of them, with its suggestion of never coming to an end, was almost maddening, and they had to climb and climb till their backs and legs ached, and the sweat poured down their foreheads.

Then thirst began to attack them. On the third day Jim found himself filled with an unreasoning hatred of Stanislaus Cripps. He suspected him of drinking the water secretly. More than once he was tempted to accuse him of this treachery, until be found Cripps giving his own ration to Tinta. A feeling of shame swept over Jim then and his angry suspicions vanished in a sudden desire to cry.

"My dear you'll drink that and do as you're told," he heard Stanislaus Cripps exclaim. "Your need is greater than mine. I can at least divert my attentions from these physical inconveniences by mathematical calculations and scientific speculations. You have not the same gift, my dear."

The scientist ran his fingers through his beard, for they had taken off their diving suits to enable them to walk easier.

"But drink it up quick, Tinta, because my mouth is so parched that I might be tempted to want it back."

By the end of the third day the food had run out; and if their calculations were right they were still twenty-four hours from the gateway!

Stanislaus Cripps was staggering like a drunken man when they began the last lap of their terrible journey. Masra, his body bent, his eyes fixed on the ground, followed in his wake. Tinta alone seemed to still possess some energy.

As for Jim he saw the three figures of his companions in front of him, as through a mist. His heart was beating painfully, and he was dizzy and faint. Only instinct seemed to keep him automatically climbing upwards. Suddenly he heard Stanislaus Cripps' voice, raised in some ribald ballad.

Jim heard himself laugh hysterically. If Stanislaus Cripps were reduced to singing comic songs, his plight must be bad indeed. He tried to join in but his dried tongue and lips refused to utter any sound.

Presently, though still keeping his feet, he fell into a kind of lethargy, walking automatically, once reeling so violently against the wall that he hurt himself. He remembered looking stupidly at some blood on his hands, and then again that lethargy settled down on him. He was roused by a shout.

The effect of those words on all of them was extraordinary. But a moment before they had been dropping with hunger and thirst and weariness, hardly able to set one foot before another. Now they began to run. Jim remembered drawing level with Tinta and racing with her side by side up the last of the slope. There was the door!

They flung themselves at it, beating at it with their hands, shouting at the top of their voices, but that great mass of stone never moved, and there was no answer to their cry. With a sob Jim sank to the ground. They were there in a living tomb from which they could never hope to escape!

THE red, sulphurous glow of the atmosphere seemed to dissolve into myriad specks of light, like drops of blood. The vaulted roof faded away into the distance. Everything about Jim grew remote, unsubstantial and unreal. Even Tinta's face, as she lay across his knee with her eyes closed, had the semblance of a painted picture.

He was dying, Jim told himself. This must be the torpor that, he had read somewhere, preceded dissolution. They had had all this monstrous journey for nothing. Better a thousand times if HE had put them painlessly to death in his rocky chamber in the Cave of Fires.

Why had they sweated and endured all these privations—tortured themselves with hopes that they had always known could never be realised? That long, nightmare trek was over; they had reached their goal at last; they were at the stone gates—and they were closed, sealed, as he had always known they would be!

His business now was to die—to get rid of this body of his that was so parched and weary, with as little delay as possible. Life was insupportable. He had no desire to prolong the agony of dying there in that tomb a moment more than was necessary.

Through that rain of blood drops he caught a glimpse of Masra's face. He was lying there on the floor with Tinta's hand pressed to his swollen lips—a mute, pathetic appeal in his eyes. He, too, wanted the end to be swift for the sake of her who was all in all to him.

He wanted to say something to Tinta, but he couldn't remember what it was he wanted to say. A great blankness seemed to have fallen on his brain, his thoughts refused to function in any ordered sequence.

Now he was wondering whether the lists were out and he had passed the London Matric; now he was chasing the Flying Submarine with Gra. Now he was patrol leader of the 1st Stagmore Troop of Boy Scouts, learning signalling on the hills with a flash lamp. Now he was helping his mother to wash up after tea—

Suddenly there dawned upon his senses what seemed a vast volume of sound. For a while he could make neither head nor tale of it, and then, little by little, out of that confused medley definite words reached his senses.

"And wherever I may roam,
O'er land or sea or foam.
You can always hear me singing this song,
Show me the way to go home."

It was Stanislaus Cripps, singing apparently the only song he knew. Jim shifted wearily on his elbow and looked round.

Stanislaus Cripps, with his coat and waistcoat off, was kneeling on the ground, chipping at the base of the revolving door with the long, dagger-like knife that he carried in the belt about his waist.

Now and again, with a feeble gesture of impatience, he swept his long red beard aside, as if it got in the way of what he was doing. Cripps was mad, of course, Jim told himself. They were all mad. It was a veritable Bedlam, and they were locked up in this rocky cell for ever and ever and ever!

But Stanislaus Cripps must be the maddest of them all. Otherwise, why should he be trying such an absurd thing as to cut his way through the rock door with that flimsy knife? And he was so weak that he could hardly handle the knife.

Still he went on singing with monotonous determination the chorus of "Show me the way to go home," until the reiteration became almost maddening. Why couldn't they all die in peace?

Suddenly Jim found himself staring into Stanislaus Cripps' eyes. For a moment they gazed fixedly at one another, and then, looking very absurd in his shirt sleeves, Stanislaus Cripps moistened his parched lips.

"Concentrate, boy. It is ridiculous that man's mind cannot rise superior to his wretched body. If we have to go down, let's go down fighting like intelligent creatures. Come and help."

Jim watched him for a moment, and then, with an effort, drew his legs gently from under Tinta's head and dragged himself painfully across to Stanislaus Cripps' side.

Jim took the knife from his belt and, imitating the other's movements, began to pick at a little section of the stone. He did not know what he was doing or why he was doing it, but somehow the very act of doing it lifted some of the clouds from his brain.

Bit by bit the stone came away in flakes. After what seemed an interminable time, they had made a hole nearly eight inches deep. Stanislaus Cripps sat back, passing a hand across his perspiring forehead. It was clear that he was physically exhausted.

"Got to do it, boy. The will is what matters. I'll make this body of mine work!" He gave an eerie laugh. "Engine only sparking on three plugs, but I'll make it do the job."

AS he finished speaking, he drew his revolver, and, opening the magazine, extracted two cartridges. One of these he fitted into the hole they had made; the other he proceeded to slit open with his knife, working very cautiously and slowly, pausing every now and again to moisten his lips and draw the air into his lungs.

Jim could see that his hands were trembling. Now the cartridge was open. Very gingerly Cripps poured the fine white powder it contained into the palm of his hand.

"Boy—get—paper. Pocket of my coat. Daren't move—might tumble—blow us all to blazes!"

The coat seemed a long way off, though in actual fact the distance was not more than a yard. Somehow Jim got to it.

The breast pocket was bulging with papers. As he drew them out he saw that they were a collection of bills, solicitors' letters, and demands for arrears of interest from banks and moneylenders. He crawled back with the bundle to Stanislaus Cripps' side.

Jim took a letter which began: "As no notice has been taken of our frequent applications for the payment of our client's account—" and with infinite labour twisted it into the familiar cone that he had so often seen his mother pack up sugar in for a customer. This he handed to Stanislaus Cripps.

Jim, raising himself with difficulty, pressed his fevered hands to his companion's throbbing temples. He felt Stanislaus Cripps' body stiffen, and then, very slowly, with infinite patience, he decanted that fine white powder from the palm of his left hand into the paper cone which he held in his right.

"Nearly done boy," he gasped. "Triumph of mind over matter—will to win. Stanislaus Cripps dies but never surrenders. Bunk—"

Uttering those incoherent words, he leaned forward and gently lowered the end of the paper cone into the hole.

"Want string—bit of stone," he gasped, and then picked up one of the flakes that they had chipped away with their knives. "This will do for weight-detonator. Want string, boy; bootlaces no use—not long enough, let's get right away back—hundred yards."

He glanced around him with bloodshot eyes. His gaze lighted on the empty bag which had contained the food.

He reached out his hand and pulled it towards him. It was made of the fibre obtained from some of the giant fungi of the Inner Cavern, like all the materials used by the Kru. Slitting it up into sections with his knife, which he further separated with his fingers, he had soon a number of fine strips each about three feet long. Motioning to Jim to help him, he began to knot these together into a long rope.

Taking up the flake of rock he had selected, he tied it to one end of this rope, balancing it on the far side of the hole so that the merest jerk would cause it to drop into the hole and down upon the powder in the paper cone.

But these exertions, trifling as they were, told heavily upon Cripps' exhausted strength. Behind his mass of tangled red hair, his cheeks were the colour of parchment. But his indomitable will held.

"We've got to do it, boy. Never say die. Get Tinta and Masra out of the way—right down there. I'm going with the rope."

Breathing heavily, he began to crawl back down that spiral slope, cautiously paying out the rope as he went. Jim crept to Tinta's side, and taking her by the shoulders, shook her.

"We may be able to get out after all, Tinta. Mr. Cripps is trying a plan, and it won't be safe for you to stay here. You must come back down the slope."

"But he cannot break the gates that He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken has closed," she answered. "And I am very weary, O Krim!"

"He thinks he can, Tinta," Jim exclaimed with an effort, then added after a pause, not believing a word of what be said, "I think he can, too. You must try and move, Tinta. It is only a little distance. For my sake, Tinta, make just one effort."

A smile that was infinitely pathetic lit up her wan face. As if that appeal was the only one that had the power to rouse her from the torpor of exhaustion, she turned feebly on to her hands and knees and began to crawl down the slope. Fortunately there was no need to say anything to Masra. He followed his daughter instantly.

Crawling one behind the other, stopping every now and again to rest, they at last reached the spot where Stanislaus Cripps was sitting with his back against the wall. His head had sank forward on his chest, and his eyes were closed. In one hand he held the end of the rope.

"Mr. Cripps" Jim exclaimed, laying his hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Cripps, we're all here."

Stanislaus Cripps drowsily opened his eyes and looked with an expressionless glance at the boy.

"We're all together again? We're here, we're here," he chanted. "Time to go to sleep, boy!"

His eyes closed again, and his chin sank back on his chest. Jim realised that the man upon whom all their fates depended was coming very near to failing them. In spite of his immense will power his body refused to respond. And yet he must he roused. There must be some plan that he had formed—some plan that still remained to be executed.

Jim did the only thing he could think of. He thrust his fingers into that matted red beard, and tugged at it with all his might.

The effect on Stanislaus Cripps was instantaneous. He opened his eyes, and Jim saw that they gleamed now with the light of madness. He drew up his legs as if to spring to his feet, and as he did so he jerked the string.

The next moment a titanic roar broke upon their deafened ears. The ground beneath them shook. There was a sound of rending stone, and then a vast volume of hot air bore down upon them, crushing them to the floor.

Jim heard Tinta call out his name with a wail of terror. He saw Stanislaus Cripps, on his feet now, supporting himself by the wall. A great wind was rushing up from below, making his long beard stream like the tail of a kite in front of his face; and then, as the echoes of that tumult died away, he heard his booming voice:

JIM slowly twisted round his body and stared up the spiral slope. Even then he could not believe that what Stanislaus Cripps had said was a fact. It was the hallucination of delirium. They were all mad, and they were seeing things. And yet—where there had been the great revolving slab of stone that hermetically sealed the entrance to the road leading to the Cave of Fires, was a great jagged hole beyond which he could see the lighted corridor of the Inner Cavern!

Stanislaus Cripps was speaking, and as he spoke he clasped Tinta by the arm and half dragged her to her feet.

With a cry of wonder Masra and Tinta staggered to their feet, and clinging to the wall, began to drag themselves upwards, Stanislaus Cripps and Jim following. Now they had reached the spot where once the gate had stood.

They could see the effects of that tremendous explosion. The whole rock was gone—disintegrated into dust—and the cavity in which it had previously swung was torn and splintered and gashed. Another moment and they were across the threshold.

Jim heard himself give a little sobbing laugh. Almost it was like being at home again, to see once more those familiar corridors lit by the hanging lamps, and to know that they had set foot in the Inner Cavern. Stanislaus Cripps, ahead of him was repeating again and again just two words:

They staggered onwards, their bodies, which had a moment before seemed so utterly feeble and exhausted, strengthened and revived by their miraculous escape. They had gone some hundred yards when Tinta turned swiftly to the left, and dropped on her knees.

By the light of the lamp above her head, they could see that she was kneeling before a hollowed basin in the rock that was filled with water. With a cry they closed about her, and like cattle at a drinking pool, set their lips to that precious liquid.

For a while nothing could be heard save the suction of their mouths as they drank greedily. When they had taken their fill, they bathed their heads and faces; then, dripping with water they rose to their feet, wonderfully refreshed.

"Now, Tinta, food, my dear," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed, his voice resounding with its old boom. "Where is the Cave of the Mushrooms? Take me to it, girl, and leave me there to browse—for some weeks!"

But to gain the Cave of Mushrooms they had to pass through one of those sections of the Inner Cavern where that portion of the Kru live during their period of duty in milking the cattle and gathering the food. Tinta pointed out this fact to Stanislaus Cripps.

"Remember O Hairy One, that we are outcasts. Our lives are forfeit, He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken has given judgment against us."

"My dear all that is over and done for. He Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken has gone west. He's a mere electric disturbance. As an entity he no longer exists. Show me the way; I will lead you and see that no harm comes to you."

SHE indicated the corridor down which they must pass, whereat Stanislaus Cripps, boldly thrusting himself at the head of the party, followed the course she pointed out. There on either side of them were the curtained doorways of the rocky homes in which the Kru lived. Of their occupants there was not a sign. Presently upon their nostrils there broke the intoxicating scent of mushrooms seethed in milk. Stanislaus Cripps halted.

"Boy, it smells good," he boomed. "It's more than human nature can stand to smell that and not eat it. As there's no one there to invite us we must make bold and solicit an invitation."

As be spoke he drew back one of those curtains. Beyond was an apartment familiar enough in form to Jim. There was the couch on which the owner slept.. There were the strange paintings on the walls. There was the coal fire in the centre of the floor. And over the fire was a big yellow vessel from which steam was emerging. On the floor by the side of the fire were a number of metal plates and the curious chopstick-like implements which the Kru employed to transfer food to their mouths.

"As nobody seems to be at home, we will dine without waiting for an invitation," Stanislaus Cripps remarked. "Let us eat, for the love of Mike!"

Taking the vessel off the fire, he decanted its contents into the plates. Then, seated cross-legged on the ground, they began to eat in silence. For five minutes not a sound was heard save the movement of their jaws. Then Stanislaus Cripps looked into the cooking vessel, saw that it was empty, sighed resignedly, and rose to his feet.

There were three couches in the room, covered with that wonderful silk-like fabric that the Kru made.

"As a precaution, boy, we will take it in turn to mount guard. Until we have had an opportunity of testing the political situation created by the regrettable passing of He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, it would be as well to err on the safe aide. I will take the first hour. Masra shall take the second, and you, boy, can take the third."

As Jim thankfully laid his head down on the couch and curled himself up, he saw Stanislaus Cripps don his diving suit. Then, as his head touched the pillow, sleep descended upon him. He was roused from that dreamy slumber only a moment later, it seemed to him, by a touch on his shoulder. Looking up he saw Masra in his diving suit standing by his side.

Jim sprang out of bed, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Stanislaus Cripps, he saw, was stretched on the couch next to him, snoring stentoriously.

"And the Hairy One said, O Krim, that you were to put on the Shining clothes," continued Masra. "If the Kru were to return, they might come with their liquid fire and we would be destroyed."

"Have you seen anybody, Masra?" Jim inquired as he began to don his diving suit.

"No one, Krim. It is very strange. According to our law and custom, it is forbidden for those who take their turn to tend the cattle and gather the food, to leave these sleeping apartments. And yet, all are empty. I have been to see."

"They are all fled. And fear must have been on them, O Krim, for their cooking pots were on the fire and their food was ready. Look, I have brought some of it here so that we can eat when the time of resting is over."

WITH Masra's foreboding words still in his ears, Jim began his period of sentry-go. In the corridor, out of which the sleeping apartments opened, there was fixed one of those curious instruments by which the Kru gauged the passing of time. In its primitiveness, it was not unlike the candles that King Alfred employed to divide the day up into hours.

A tall, narrow vessel was so placed that it caught the drops of water that dripped from a fissure in the rocky roof above. On the surface of the water so collected was a float, attached by a string, that passed over a wheel, and hung down on the outside of the jar. To the extremity of this other end was fastened a strip of yellow metal.

As the water rose in the vessel, so the metal bar descended down the side of the jar, which was marked out into spaces, each space representing a division of time. One of those divisions, Jim knew, from having tested it by his watch, roughly represented an hour.

Marching up and down, exploring the adjacent apartments, listening for any sound that might suggest the approach of one of the Kru, Jim carried out his term of duty. When the metal bar of that water clock had descended one of those graded spaces, he turned back into the room and roused his companions.

Stanislaus Cripps sprung from his couch like a giant refreshed. It was difficult to imagine that such a short while before he had been so weak and exhausted that he could hardly raise his hand to his face.

"That's curious, boy. Perhaps they're ashamed to meet us after the way they treated us. Well, if the mountains won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed, after he's breakfasted, must go to the mountains."

Tinta, who had also risen, prepared the food, and, squatting on the floor, they began to eat. Jim, glancing now and again at the faces of his companions, saw that even Stanislaus Cripps' iron features bore unmistakable signs of their recent dreadful adventure. He himself had the feeling that he had suddenly passed from boyhood to manhood. He caught Tinta watching him with a question in her eyes.

"I was thinking how brave and wonderful you and the Hairy One are, how much you have risked for my sake—the journey to the Caves of the Fires—the speaking to He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken face to face—and death beyond the gates, which the Hairy One scattered by his magic."

"There will he more dark paths that you'll have to tread, O Krim! There is evil here in the Inner Cavern. There is a shadow upon my people."

"He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken is no more. The voice will not he there to order and direct. Already they are forgetting the law and the custom. Never yet have I known those who tend the cattle and gather the food to leave their posts until their term of duty was over."

"What's that you're saying, my dear?" Stanislaus Cripps inquired with his mouth full.

"The cattle will die, O Hairy One, if they are not looked to, and the food will rot and grow foul if it is not gathered. And how will the Kru live then? The Falta have taken from them the fish that come by the great drain. They will die miserably."

Stanislaus Cripps reflected for a moment on her words, and then, turning to Masra, inquired what he thought of the position.

"There is wisdom in what Tinta says. A madness must have seized upon the Kru, if they leave the cattle untended and the food ungathered."

"It seems to me, boy, that it is a case of the sheep without a shepherd." Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "I had to kill that very self-satisfied person down in the Cave of Fires—a regrettable necessity—and in doing that we would seem to have knocked the keystone out of the arch of the Kru's domestic system. There being nobody to tell them what to do, they don't do it. I shall have to take hold of this business."

He finished his meal hastily, and then, rising, began to don his armour, ordering Jim and Masra to follow his example.

"As soon as the opportunity occurs, my dear, we must get you one of these costumes," he remarked to Tinta. "In your present defenceless condition, you are not only a danger to yourself, but to us. Now, if you're ready, we'll he moving."

He desired no more adventures. His one ambition was to get safely aboard the Flying Submarine—to ascend the great shaft and escape into the outer world of sunshine.

"Not yet, boy. We shall have to reorganise the Kru first. I expressed myself strongly to He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken regarding his methods of government; it is now up to me, boy, to demonstrate that I can do better than he did. We cannot allow the Kru to perish for lack of proper discipline."

WITHOUT another word Stanislaus led the way out of the chamber into the corridor, and in single file they proceeded down along the network of tunnels. They had been walking for some twenty minutes, when suddenly Cripps halted.

From somewhere ahead of them came a faint murmur, not unlike the humming of a swarm of bees.

"The Kru are in the Hall of the People," Tinta exclaimed. "It is their voices you hear, O Hairy One."

"We have to turn here to the left, and then, when we gain the corridor beyond, it is but a few paces to the door. But, O Hairy One, do not run into danger."

"I wanted an opportunity to speak to your people, Tinta, and this seems just the chance I've been looking for."

He marched coolly down the passage to the left and turned into the corridor that ran at right angles. Now they could see the curtained doorway through which they had passed on the memorable day when they had rescued Tinta from execution.

That distant murmur, as of a hive swarming, had grown to a very babel of sound that died away abruptly into dead silence. A man's voice became audible, speaking in ringing tones.

"To-day, O Kru, after the gathering of the food, my feet were led into this Hall of the People. I was here alone, and I prayed to He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, the Lord of the Spirit of Life."

"It's what the reporters call cheers," Stanislaus Cripps whispered. "Who is it speaking, Masra?"

"I know his voice well, O Hairy One. It is Ka-Ra. He is a great speaker of the thing that is not."

Stanislaus Cripps grunted. Again that tumult died down, and once more they heard Ka-Ra speaking.

"I will tell you, O my brothers, what my prayer was, so that you will know I speak truth. With my head bowed to the ground I used these words: 'O He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, four times has the food been gathered and renewed, and yet you have sent us no counsel. The people murmur and are afraid. Speak to me, O He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken—speak, I beseech you, to thy servant, that he may give a message to thy people who know not what to do without thy guiding voice.'"

"This is very interesting, boy," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "This Ka-Ra seems to be going in for politics."

"Then, O Kru, even as I prayed with all my heart and soul in those words which I have just recited to you, there came his voice," continued Ka-Ra. "Many times have you heard it, but coming as it did then after it had been silent for so long, it sounded to me even more wonderful and beautiful than ever."

As he paused with dramatic effect, several voices called out at the same moment:

"I will tell you, my brothers. I will give even the words that He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken deigned to use. They are engraved upon my mind for ever like the markings on the rocks. This is the message of which he made me, the most humble and unworthy of the Kru, the bearer."

"Bless us, the fellow knows all the tricks of the trade," Stanislaus Cripps muttered. "False humility—the art of suggesting something without saying it! As he can't have learned it anywhere, he must be a politician by instinct."

"Through the rocky void from the heart of the Cave of the Fires," went on the voice, "He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken spoke thus to me: 'O Ka Ra, I grow weary of leading the Kru people. For countless ages I have tended them and looked after them like a father. Now the end has come. I have meted out justice to the girl Tinta, and the man Masra, and the two Shining Ones that you sent to me at my bidding. Now I have finished.'"

From behind the curtain there went up a groan of horror. Again Ka-Ra's voice was raised.

"'Tell my people, whom I have loved, not to be down-hearted or afraid. I have set their feet firmly on the path that they must follow. The that they no longer have me to guide them need not cause them to dread the future. For lo, I have given them one to lead them who will speak with my voice, and whose wisdom will be my wisdom—even you, Ka-Ra.'"

"Of all the unblushing liars!" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "Masra, this fellow seems to have well deserved his reputation of saying the thing that is not."

From within the hall came the sound of the Kru chanting their acceptance of their new leader.

"Hail to thee, Ka-Ra, who speaks with the voice of He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, whose wisdom comes from the Master of the Spirit of Life. Thy word shall be our law. What thou sayest, that will we do."

"It is well, O Kru," Ka-Ra's voice came again after that chant had died down. "Harken now to what I say. There were among us one Tinta and her father Masra, on whom He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken has done justice. Let their names be ever accursed among you. And the two Shining Ones, who sought to set aside the word of He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, and have perished miserably, they brought certain things with them—strange magic. Even now in the Outer Cavern there floats the Flying Thing by which they came into our land. We must capture it. Then shall we he masters of the Outer Cavern and Lords of the Falta!"

APPARENTLY the thought of the Kru playing havoc with the Flying Submarine was too much for Stanislaus Cripps, for with a growl he flung back the curtain and strode into the packed hall. Jim thrust Tinta into the place behind him, and with himself and Masra in the rear they walked straight to the centre of the arena.

Their entrance created a sensation. Of a sudden that vast audience became spellbound. Not one of them moved as those three shining figures and Tinta passed swiftly down the gangway that gave admission to the open space in the centre of the hall. Only Ka-Ra, who stood there, was unconscious of their presence. With folded arms he continued to address his audience in a majestic, imperious tone.

"These Shining Ones are no more. He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken has told me so. But their magic remains; it is on the Flying Thing that floats in the Outer Cavern."

So far had he got when Stanislaus Cripps stepped on to the stone by his side, and, with one sweep of his armour-clad arm, sent him flying headlong to the floor.

"You lie!" Cripps exclaimed. "Do you imagine that a man of my eminence and attainments can be destroyed as you would destroy a pig?"

From the closely packed hall a sigh went up like the wind playing in the topmost branches of a forest. Ka-Ra was looking up from the ground at Stanislaus Cripps, a ludicrous expression of terror and chagrin on his face. And, even as that pause of astonishment lasted, Tinta, Jim and Masra joined Stanislaus Cripps on the stone.

The Kru had been dazed by the sudden appearance of the three figures in their shining armour, but at the sight of Tinta—the girl who had been sentenced to death and yet by some miracle was still alive—their feelings of rage and hate got the uppermost hand. With a wild demoniac roar, they raised their arms above their heads and hurled at her cursing and denunciations. Stanislaus Cripps turned and touched Tinta's arm.

"Never mind, my dear. They don't know what they're talking about. Leave it all to me. I'll see you righted."

From the belt about his waist he took the cylinder that projected the sleeping gas. Waving it in front of his audience meaningly, he waited a moment. Instantly those nearest him drew back. For a moment a panic threatened. There was a rush towards the door, stayed only by Stanislaus Cripps.

As he spoke he returned the cylinder to its place in his belt. It had served its purpose. He had "got" his audience.

"That man there, Ka-Ra, is a liar and the son of a liar! He was telling you that He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken had left to him the leadership of his people. But a short time ago he declared that he had this communication. Well, he can't have had. Four times since the food was gathered and renewed, I was speaking face to face with He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken. He proposed to put to death this girl Tinta who is under my special protection. I had no choice but to kill him. Kru, He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken is no more. Henceforth I will he your leader!"

"He lies. O Kru. How can He-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken—who is master of the fire of Life—be dead? These Shining Ones are impostors."

"Boy, I can't waste time on this fellow," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed in an aside. As he spoke he took the cylinder of sleeping gas from his belt again, and projected some of that bluish vapour straight into Ka-Ra's face.

The man dropped like a stone. In a businesslike way Stanislaus Cripps returned the cylinder to his belt.

Even as he uttered the words there was an ear-splitting report, and the floor shook beneath their feet—the next instant, with a shrill cry, a number of children dashed through the curtained doorway, crying at the top of their voices.

WITH shrill screams of terror, the mob of little children poured through the doors into the Hall of the People, crying out that the Falta had broken in—that they were close behind them—beseeching their fathers to save them. And, hot-foot after the children came a crowd of panic-stricken Kru women.

Every moment the Hall of the People was growing more congested, as like a flock of frightened sheep, the women and children poured in in ever-increasing numbers. But their appeals to the men to save them seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The Kru, accustomed to have all their ways ordered for them by He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, were quite incapable of any organised initiative. There was no one there to tell them what to do and so they did nothing, save to stand there on the stone seats—staring at that terrified mob of women and children in a kind of helpless lethargy.

The children were swarming round the stone now on which Jim's party were standing. The boy stepped down, and, catching one of the children by the arm, lifted him to a place by his side.

The child, who was a sturdy youngster of ten, took a deep breath, and somehow managed to stifle the frightened sobs by which he was convulsed.

"We were playing near the tunnel In the entrance to the Outer Cavern. Suddenly there was a great roar. All the rocks fell away, leaving a huge hole. Then we saw the Falta. I do not know how many of them there were, because I ran. They were coming through the hole into the Inner Cavern."

"This has got me guessing, boy. I wonder if they can have been monkeying about with some of those explosives we left in the tractor? We shall have to inquire into this, boy. The first thing is to get these silly sheep in hand."

"Be silent, O Kru, and hearken to me, who am now what He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken was to you formerly—only a much more intelligent leader!"

His voice went booming through the cavernous hall. The effect of it was instantaneous. The authoritative tone in which he spoke—the evidence they had just had of what they regarded as his magical powers—all combined to create the effect he desired upon a people who, for hundreds of generations, had learned submissiveness to the will of someone they had never seen!

"I will deal with the Falta. You have nothing to fear. They are just exaggerated children, and, like all children, they delight in destructiveness. If they have broken into the Inner Cavern, I will drive them out again!"

JIM could not help admiring his companion's strength of purpose, courage and self-confidence. He saw the Kru watching Cripps in mute astonishment, clearly hypnotised by his coolness.

"That little matter can wait for a moment," he continued. "Now that I have taken over the job of running you, O Kru, we've got to have some sort of system and order. Firstly, it's understood that any fool sentence you have passed on Tinta and her father, Masra, are washed out. There are to be no more of those barbarous practices. Is that quite clear?"

"But He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken willed it, O Shining One. They disobeyed the Ban, and the penalty is death. We cannot disobey the word of He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken."

Stanislaus Cripps clearly found this mute compliance with the wishes of the strange being who had dwelt in the Cave of the Fires—this habit of submissive obedience—utterly exasperating. He made an impatient gesture with his hands.

"You make me tired! Haven't I told you that He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken is dead—quite dead? I was compelled to kill him."

"Fools!" exclaimed Cripps impatiently. "Will you argue with me when the Falta are at your gates? You know that I and these others went down into the Cave of the Fires. You know that He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken sent for us—this girl in particular—so that he might put her to death. Well, she isn't dead, and we aren't dead. Isn't that proof sufficient that something has gone astray with He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken? You know that you closed the gates that He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken ordered should be opened to us? Yet I tore those gates away as if they were nought."

"You'll either believe me and do what I tell you, or I'll leave you to deal with the Falta yourselves!"

THERE was a moment of uncertainly after Stanislaus Cripps had delivered his ultimatum. The scales of Fate hung evenly balanced, with the habit of submission to He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken weighing against the force of character and the will-power of Stanislaus Cripps. And, during that pause an amazing thing happened.

Suddenly the curtain over the doorway was torn aside, and through the opening there appeared the great head of one of the Falta. His squat nose, his slobbering lips, his huge distended eyes set in that rocky frame, presented a picture of indescribable horror. There was a scream from the massed crowd, and instantly those in the neighbourhood of the door began to fight to get away. Pandemonium was let loose.

Jim saw the giant open his cavernous mouth, and his great yellow fangs glittered for a moment in the light. Then slowly he crept through the doorway. One of his huge groping hands, as they felt their way forward, closed unconsciously upon one of the Kru, crushing him like an eggshell.

Foot by foot his enormous form continued to thrust its way forward into the Hall of the People. Now he drew up his legs, cast his gaze for a moment in the direction of the roof as if to gauge whether he had standing room, and then rose to his feet.

The effect of that giant's presence amidst so many thousands of human beings of ordinary stature was extraordinary. Jim was reminded of a picture in "Gulliver's Travels," in which the hero is shown among the people of Lilliput. Twenty feet high, the Falta dwarfed the Kru so that they looked for all the world like insects swarming at his feet.

Like all the Falta, his face was expressionless, but there was something in his slobbering lips which suggested an ecstasy of cruel satisfaction. For the first time one of the Falta had the Kru at his mercy. There were no liquid flames in the hall with which the unfortunate dwarfs could protect themselves. He was like some savage beast of the jungle let loose among people who however much greater their intelligence were unarmed.

The Kru were now all pressed in a struggling, inextricable mass on the upper tiers of seats. Only the women and children, as if terror had robbed them of the power of motion, still crowded round the stone on which Stanislaus Cripps was standing.

The Falta looked round, turning his great head slowly. Then he reached out an arm and plucked a handful of the Kru from the lower tier of seats.

He held them in his palm for a moment, studying them like an entomologist might inspect some insect. Then he did a thing, the horror of which was to remain in Jim's mind for ever.

Like a cruel boy plucks the wings from a fly, so the giant set himself to tear the limbs from his victims. Jim could bear the tortured screams of the unfortunate Kru. The scene was sickening in its dreadful bestiality.

There was a clatter of metal-clad feet striking the stone floor. Stanislaus Cripps had leapt from the stone, and, thrusting aside the terrified women and children, was striding towards the giant. By comparison with the Falta, he was no larger than a rabbit.

"You dog—you beast!" he shouted in English. "Murderer, loathsome excresence—there's only one way of dealing with you!"

The Falta must have understood, partly by the sound and partly by the fact that that shining figure was moving towards him, that he was being addressed. He looked down, and then stretching out his disengaged hand, made as if to scoop Stanislaus Cripps off the floor.

The next instant there was an ear-splitting report. That huge figure seemed to disintegrate. The Falta had vanished! All that was left of his recent loathsome presence was a crimson circle on which the wounded Kru were lying moaning!

"I HATE this butcher's business, boy!" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed, his usually cool, self-confident voice oddly tremulous as he spoke. "But there was nothing else for it. I wonder if there's anyone here with any glimmerings of medical science, because these unfortunate people ought to be looked after. Tinta, my dear, can you do anything to help these wounded?"

He uttered the last words in the Kru tongue. Tinta instantly stepped off the rock, and pushing her way through the crowd—not one of those who, but a moment before, had been clamouring for her life, attempting to stay her—reached Stanislaus Cripps' side.

"To the women of Kru, O Hairy One, belongs the duty to tend the sick and helpless. They will be borne to the Cave set apart for them."

She made a movement as if to summon some of the women to assist her, and at that moment the spell of wonder and relief that held the assembled Kru in silence broke down. A shout went up to the vaulted roof.

"Great is the Shining One! He is our Lord and Master. The Falta was here and he is not! The magic of the Shining One has destroyed him. From now onwards shall he be known among us as He-Whose-Word-Must-Be-Obeyed!"

As if to test that statement, Stanislaus Cripps raised his arm to command silence. Instantly all noise ceased in the cave.

"You have taken a long time to come to your senses, but you have come to them at last, O Kru. Now listen to me. There are men among you who have betrayed the trust imposed in them. The food grows foul in the Cave of the Mushrooms, for there has been no one to gather it; the cattle moan for they have not been milked. Let those who have deserted their posts come forward!"

There was a movement among the crowd, and some hundred men, looking very frightened, ranged themselves round Cripps.

"Four times was the food gathered and renewed, and yet He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken had not told us what his will was. Has he not always directed our doings? Without his order. O Shining One, why should we gather the food and tend the cattle?"

"I'll tell you. Because you'd all starve if the job wasn't done It was a necessary piece of work that your intelligence should have told you must be done in the interests of the people, whether you received an order or not."

"These men deserve punishment. In the space between the gathering and renewing of the food, nothing shall pass their mouths except water. And they shall labour in the Caves of the Cattle and the Mushrooms four times beyond their allotted span. You will see to this, O Kru. Afterwards those whose duty it is to do this necessary work, will perform it in rotation without any further orders."

As he finished speaking, a strange twittering sound came from the open doorway. Looking round, Stanislaus Cripps saw the loathsome face of another Falta peering into the hall. Evidently he was seeking his companion, who had gone on ahead of him for he hesitated, staring about him without attempting to enter the hall.

"Boy," Stanislaus Cripps shouted, "go and dose that brute with the sleeping gas. I can't have any more of this butchery. It would give these Kru a taste for cruelty. Quick, boy, before he gets into the hall!"

On hands and knees, that giant figure was now beginning to move forward. Jim dashed forward to meet him the cylinder of sleeping gas in his hand. Halting just out of the reach of those ten foot arms, he discharged a cloud of vapour into the giant's face. He saw the milky cloud spread into the air. For a moment the giant's head was hidden in that veil of mist. When it cleared he was lying prone on the ground unconscious.

"That's blocked the passage for the rest of them, anyway." Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "Now we've got to get busy. Tinta, my dear, get some of these ladies to help you with the wounded. And you, Kru, back to the tasks that you did before! The time for talking is over."

Some of the men rushed forward, weapons upraised in their hands, with the obvious intention of plunging them into the unconscious figure of the Falta. Stanislaus Cripps stopped them with an imperious gesture.

"Stay! We will have no more bloodshed. We will make the Falta submit. They shall be your slaves, O Kru. At any rate, the feud between you shall cease."

"Got to get rid of this fear business. It's the only way to civilise these people."

He stood there, while the huge audience slowly dispersed. On account of the unconscious giant lying in the doorway, their exit was considerably hampered, but gradually, little by little, they dispersed, Tinta and a party of women carrying away the wounded.

At last only Jim, Masra and Stanislaus Cripps remained. Stanislaus Cripps put up his hands, gave his metal helmet a twist, and then lifted it off. His great head, with its mass of red hair, appeared with an almost jack-in-the-box effect from above his shining armour.

"Boy, that was swift work," he exclaimed, drawing in a deep breath. "I think they're going to eat out of my hand after this. Now let us go and see what these hypertrophied idiots are up to!"

JIM was about to follow Stanislaus Cripps towards the door when his attention was called to the figure of Ka-Ra, lying there where he had fallen under the influence of the sleeping gas. The man was just beginning to move.

Stanislaus Cripps halted, the glittering headpiece of his armour still in his hand.

"Pick him up, boy, and let's have a look at him. He's a would-be Napoleon who didn't click!"

Jim put his hands under Ka-Ra's arms, then raised him to his feet. The man stood there blinking at them. He was evidently still dazed.

"Well, Ananias, what have you got to say for yourself?" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed in English.

Ka-Ra's face twitched, and into his dark eyes there flashed an expression of unutterable hate.

"Lord and Master," he exclaimed in a whining tone, "I am but one of your meanest slaves!"

"Listen to him, boy!" he boomed. "What a cringing cur he is! And yet, he must have had the makings of a man out of the ordinary. He had ambitions, which none of the other Kru people seem to have. His was a case of initiative without intelligence, boy."

"You'll understand, Ka-Ra, that I am the master of the Kru people, that my word henceforth is law. Don't invent any more communications from He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken, and don't try to make yourself a big noise, either. You can go now, and let what has happened here be a lesson to you."

Ka-Ra ran a few paces across the floor, then hatted in horror at the sight of the huge form of the Falta almost filling the exit.

"You need have no fear, Ka-Ra," called Cripps. "He sleeps even as you slept, and you can walk over him with safety."

Ka-Ra stepped gingerly past that recumbent giant and disappeared in the corridors beyond. Only when he was gone did Masra speak.

"O Hairy One, you have done wrong to let that man escape. Ka-Ra hates you in his heart, and he means you mischief. I saw it even in his eyes."

"He can't make any trouble for me, Masra. Let's not bother our thoughts with him any further. We have more important matters in hand."

"We must get that mountain of flesh out of this somehow, otherwise he'll wake up soon and make trouble. He's worse than a stranded whale. Masra, go and get fifty of the strongest men, and send them along here to cart this Falta into the Outer Cavern. We are going to see what has happened."

LEAVING the Hall of the People with Jim at his heels, Cripps strode down the network of corridors to the entrance to the Inner Cavern. An exclamation of astonishment escaped from his lips.

Where that entrance tunnel had been, previously so low that not even Jim could stand upright in it, there was now a great fissure some fifty feet high and some thirty feet broad. The whole face of the cliff had been torn away, and beyond they could see, brooding in its strange blue atmosphere the world of the Outer Cavern.

"What the dickens can be the meaning of this, boy!" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "It must have been caused by an explosion, and as the only explosives in the place belong to me, they must have got at our store somehow. But how did they learn how to use them?"

"Perhaps it was just chance, sir," put in Jim. "The tin containing the power with which you destroyed the idol was in the tractor."

Stanislaus Cripps stepped gingerly through the gap, then stood for a moment on the threshold of the Outer Cavern, looking about him. Suddenly he pointed to the ground below.

"Yes, I think you've hit it, boy. A Falta must have found the tin, and, opening it, spilt the powder on the ground. That would be more than sufficient to detonate it. The giant who did it is now amongst the missing!"

He stepped off the rock on to the floor below. Of the Falta not one was in sight. Apparently the two who had made their way into the Inner Cavern were the only ones in the neighbourhood at the time of the explosion, or perhaps their companions had fled terrified.

A quarter of a mile away a glittering object was visible on the ground. Stanislaus Cripps gave a snort of satisfaction.

"There's the tractor, boy. These big clumsy brutes haven't been able to break that up, anyway!"

In a few minutes they had gained the spot where the tractor stood. It had been rifled of most of its stores, which the Falta, not understanding the use of them, had left scattered about the ground.

The barrels of fruit were intact, and Stanislaus Cripps, seizing an apple, began to devour it greedily. The machine itself had been turned upside down, but so weightless was it that Jim was able to right it with one hand.

"Help yourself to some of that fruit, boy. It's the best medicine in the world, and I'm not sure that the diet we've been having is quite what the doctors would recommend. I'm going to take the tractor back into the Inner Cavern and use it to transport that Falta hulk out to his own quarters. You'd best stay here, boy, and keep an eye on the stores till I return."

He stepped into the machine, examined its shining levers and switches with the satisfaction of the man who had invented it, and then pressed a button. Instantly there was a faint humming sound as the engines sprang to life.

"Nothing wrong, here, boy. I'll be getting along. See you later when I've got the Falta out of the way!"

LEFT alone, Jim eagerly adopted Stanislaus Cripps' prescription and helped himself liberally to the oranges and apples. He was just in the act of beginning on his third orange when, directly across his line of vision, there appeared for a moment, about a mile away, a small figure clambering among the boulders.

Jim stared at it in amazement. It must be one of the Kru, and yet what was one of the Kru doing alone in that world of the giants, where death threatened him at every turn?

He rose to his feet to get a better view, and as he did so, his foot touched something on the ground. Looking down he saw that it was a pair of binoculars. Picking them up, he took them out of their case and focused them on that figure.

The man had halted on the summit of a high boulder, beyond which appeared the domed roofs of one of the Falta settlements. Jim saw him look round nervously, and, as he did so, the boy caught a glimpse of his features. It was Ka-Ra!

Somehow that discovery filled Jim with a vague uneasiness. What was this man, who had sought to seize power by deliberate fraud, and had lost the daring game he had played by the intervention of Stanislaus Cripps, doing alone on the fringe of that Falta settlement? Settling himself comfortably behind the boulder on which he had been seated, Jim watched his movements through the glasses.

Now apparently Ka-Ra's movements of uncertainty had come to an end. Jim saw him turn his face towards those huge stone huts, his figure rigid. Then across the vaulted cavern came the sound of his voice, though his words were indistinguishable. He was calling to somebody!

A few minutes went by, then, above the boulders, there reared themselves the heads and shoulders of a number of the Falta. Jim half expected Ka-Ra, who was unarmed, he saw, to turn and at the sight of those terrible apparitions; but still he stood his ground.

Then he started speaking to the giants, and owing to that vast enclosed space, his voice was audible to Jim. Once the boy saw him point upwards. Once, too, he turned with a dramatic gesture to the entrance to the Inner Cavern.

An immense curiosity filled Jim's mind. There was something wrong here, he reflected. For a Kru to meet the Falta and not be instantly destroyed was, he knew, contrary to all precedent.

How came it, then, that Ka-Ra had not been swept off that rock like a fly snatched from a wall and crushed to death? Could it be that Ka-Ra was engaged on some treacherous mission to their enemies? It was a matter, he decided, that he ought to inquire into.

Acting on that resolve, Jim began to make his way across the boulder-strewn ground in the direction of the spot, cleverly taking cover so that he should not be observed. Long before he gained the outskirts of the Falta settlement, Ka-Ra had disappeared.

Now at last Jim had reached the outer fringe of that clearing on which those giant huts stood. As he peered cautiously through a crevice between two huge rocks, he saw an astonishing sight.

Twenty of the Falta were seated on the ground in a circle, their huge limbs drawn up under them, their distended eyes fixed in an expressionless state on the little figure that stood in the middle of the circle. It was Ka-Ra, and he was addressing them in violent, passionate tones.

"Listen to me. O Falta! I have finished with the Kru. I come to you as a friend and an ally. Between each Coming of the Light you grow fewer and fewer. Soon there will be none of you left, for the Kru will kill you one by one. I alone am able to save you. I will show you a way by which these Shining Ones and their magic can be placed in your power, and you can become masters of the Outer and the Inner Cavern, and make the Kru your slaves!"

The Falta nodded their huge heads, and from their lips came that strange, bird-like twittering sound by which they expressed their emotions.

"Swear to me, O Falta, that we are brothers—that you will stand by me through life and death, that my enemies shall be your enemies—and I will show you the way to victory!"

Each Falta glanced at his neighbour, and then once more they nodded their heads.

"We are your brothers," they exclaimed in chorus. "Your enemies are our enemies. Tell us, then, what we must do!"

JIM saw an expression of satisfaction light up Ka-Ra's face. The man had risked his life on a gamble and had won. He, a representative of the Falta's hated foes, had been accepted as a friend and an ally!

"It is over there, O Kru. We have ridden on it. Many times we have brought it to the ground, twenty of us holding it. Then it has risen, bearing us away."

Jim hardly knew what his feelings were on hearing that the Falta had been using Stanislaus Cripps' wonderful invention for joy rides.

"That is well," Ka-Ra exclaimed in a tone of satisfaction "You must take me to it, O Falta. There on that Flying Thing is all the magic of the Shining Ones. There is the magic that makes one sleep. There is the fire that strikes and destroys. Once we are armed with those, who can stand against us? The Kru would be like the cattle in the cave of the meadows to do nought but your will! Bring me to this Flying Thing, O Falta! We must not delay."

At that moment all the giants, as if moved by some common impulse, raised their heads and looked upwards. In order to see what they were staring at, Jim had to slip out of his hiding place between the two boulders. A little gasp of astonishment escaped from his lips.

There, floating some twenty feet above his head, was the huge hulk of the Flying Submarine! Seated across it, like children riding on a horse, were five of the Falta. Evidently their enormous weight had overcome the buoyancy of the vessel, and caused it to sink towards the ground. The anchor, Jim saw, was still dangling over the side and trailing along the ground.

"Put me up there, O Falta," Ka-Ra exclaimed excitedly "I shall know where to find the magic of the Shining Ones!"

All the giants rose, and one of them, reaching out an arm caught the trailing anchor rope. Clearly, during their absence in the Inner Cavern, the Falta had discovered how the Flying Submarine could be brought to the ground.

Now six of them, bearing on the rope with all their weight, caused the vast vessel to settle like a bubble on the open space about the huts.

Then one of the giants who was riding on the Flying Submarine at the moment, suddenly called out something in his high falsetto voice. Jim could not understand the words, but the gesture of his hands made it perfectly clear what he was saying. The Falta was pointing to the spot where he himself stood.

Too late Jim realised that he had been discovered. He turned to flee, diving instinctively for the cover of the rocks that strewed the ground, but he had not gone more than a few yards when a huge hand closed about him and he was lifted from his feet. The next moment he found himself staring into the vast, expressionless face of one of the Falta!

JIM was glad that Stanislaus Cripps had insisted upon his wearing his diving-dress, and that before setting out to stalk Ka-Ra, he had readjusted the headpiece which he had removed in order to enjoy the apples and oranges, for the giant. Falta instantly attempted to tear him to pieces.

He jerked his arms and legs, pressed him between his hands, and oven attempted to break him, as if he were a stick, over his knee. But the wonderful metal that could withstand the tremendous pressure of the lowest depths of the ocean was proof against even his strength. Jim came through the ordeal a little shaken, perhaps, but otherwise unhurt.

He thought the worst was over, but he was mistaken. The giant, finding that such methods were unavailing, seized him by one foot, and made as if to swing him round with the object of breaking his prisoner's head against a neighbouring rock. Ka-Ra instantly intervened.

The giant abandoned his murderous intentions and, holding Jim dangling by his ankles as if he were a dead rabbit, he glanced down at the little figure of the Kru.

"This is one of the Shining Ones. He has the secret of the magic!" Ka-Ra exclaimed with a cunning smile. "We can make him give us this magic. Set him down here, O Falta."

The giant sank down on his haunches, with Jim lying over his drawn-up knees. The boy suddenly remembered the weapons he had in his belt. He raised his hand with the intention of drawing out the cylinder containing the sleeping-gas, but even as he did so Ka-Ra sprang on him. The next instant everything that his belt contained was removed. He heard Ka-Ra give a shout of exultation.

"Look, O Falta!" he exclaimed, dangling the cylinder. "This is the magic instrument that makes all who stand up against it fall asleep; and this"—he indicated the revolver—"is that which contains the fire that strikes and destroys!"

Jim shut his eyes at this period of the demonstration, feeling that his end had come, for Ka-Ra was holding the revolver upside down with his fingers on the trigger. Every moment he expected to hear that earsplitting report which he knew meant instant death.

"Already, O Falta, we have the Kru in our power!" exclaimed Ka-Ra. "Who can stand up against this mighty magic? There but remains the Flying Thing. Let the Shining One be bound, and we will give him no food or drink until be shows to me the secret of its magic!"

THE Falta possessing nothing that could be used for binding the prisoner, Ka-Ra himself supplied it, taking the sash from about his waist and tying Jim's arms behind his back. Then, as he lay there on the ground, Ka-Ra addressed the boy, his face glowing with exulting cruelty.

"Now, O Shining One—now, where is your magic with which you rescued Tinta from the sacrificial stone, and faced even He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken? You are in my power! You are Ka-Ra's slave. If you refuse to do my bidding you shall die!"

"You are a traitor, Ka-Ra, and in the end you will pay for your treachery. For the moment I may be at your mercy, but a greater one than I is not in your power. Remember there is the Hairy One, before even He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken fell, and the Hairy One is my friend and sworn brother. Woe to you, Ka-Ra, when he knows what you have done!"

"He cannot touch me now. I have his magic. I fear nothing, O Shining One. Think not of me, but rather of yourself."

"I would know how this Flying Thing is made to do your bidding. You will tell me, and, until you tell me, no food or drink shall pass your lips!"

"Then perhaps I will allow you to be my slave!" Ka-Ra retorted with a slow smile.

"If I knew anything I'd never tell you!" Jim gasped. "You can kill me, but how much wiser would you be then? And you've still to reckon with the Hairy One."

"I have seen men who, just like you, have boasted that nothing would make them speak. But when the Shadow of the Dark Wing has only so much as touched them, then they have found their tongues."

"Even so will it be with you, O Shining One. I can wait. Now I take you to the Flying Thing. There shall you remain—without food and water—until you unfold to me all the hidden magic!"

He spoke some words to the Falta, some of whom were climbing on one another's backs, like schoolboys, in a vain attempt to reach the deck of the Flying Submarine. Others had been hauled on board by their comrades, and were seated astride the great shining hulk.

Now, acting on Ka-Ra's instructions, Jim was tied to the mooring rope and, without any regard for his personal comfort, hauled, hand over hand with jerks that lifted him twelve feet at a time, on to the deck.

Immediately afterwards Ka-Ra followed, and stood peering round, evidently more than a little frightened at the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. Presently his eye fell on the opening that led to the pilot-house.

Jim did some swift thinking. Once Ka-Ra was let loose in the pilot-house, there was no knowing the mischief he might do. He might touch the lever that controlled the air-reservoirs, and send the vessel hurtling up into the upper reaches of the air, never to descend again. Or he might move the lever that would make the enormously powerful engines spring into life and drive the vessel at an incredible speed into the face of the rock. At all costs he must be prevented from entering the pilot-house.

"There is nothing down there, Ka-Ra," Jim answered. "You can see steps. You have but to descend. All will be well with you."

As he intended should be the case, the Kru did not believe one word he said. This was but a plot of the Shining One to lure him into the power of those mighty and mysterious forces that lurked within the interior of the vessel.

In his anger he kicked Jim with his bare foot, hurting himself, Jim reflected, with a certain satisfaction, far more than he inconvenienced him.

"You lie!" he exclaimed furiously. "That is where the Hairy One keeps the mighty spirit under his control."

"Not a bad estimate of the situation," Jim reflected, in spite of the other's unscientific language.

He rolled Jim to the mouth of the companion-way, and then, propping him up till his feet were dangling over the edge, let him fall. Fortunately the diving-suit had such a power of shock resistance that Jim, though he fell with a crash against the wall, was only slightly dazed.

He lay there looking up, watching Ka-Ra cautiously descending the ladder. Now the man was by his side, staring round with an appearance of calm which his frightened eyes belied.

Apparently he was disappointed by what he saw—or perhaps he felt he needed more time to steady his nerves—for after a few seconds he bolted back up the companion-way. Jim could hear him speaking to the Falta. Then his voice faded away into the distance.

For half an hour Jim lay there, a prey to every known form of anxiety. What was going to happen to himself? What was going to happen to Stanislaus Cripps? Armed with those weapons, the use of which he did not understand, Ka-Ra was like a madman with a loaded revolver in his hand. Quite unprepared—never suspecting what had happened—Stanislaus Cripps might be caught and killed.

As these gloomy thoughts were passing through his mind, Jim began to struggle in an attempt to release himself from his bonds. Then, when the futility of his efforts was dawning upon him, a shadow passed across the mouth of the conning tower. Looking up, he saw a great face peering down at him. One of the Falta was there. Then he heard a voice—a low, twittering whisper.

JIM could have shouted with joy as he heard that friendly, twittering voice and recognised Gra's features.

"I waited a long time, O Shining One! The Hairy One bade me catch the Flying Thing, but when I had caught it, and would have brought it to him, he had vanished. I began to think that I should never look upon his face again."

Having voluntarily proffered his loyal devotion to Stanislaus Cripps, Gra had apparently remained faithful to his vow. Here was an ally whom Jim needed badly.

"He is just below, O Shining One, talking to the Falta. He has many words, and they make my comrades mad."

"He says that he will capture the Hairy One—that presently he will make the Falta masters of the Kru. He is telling them that the Kru shall work for the Falta, and that, they shall be lords of the Inner Cavern as they are of the Outer Cavern."

Something that bore a faint resemblance to a smile twisted the corners of the Falta's cavernous mouth.

"I have seen the might of the Hairy One. Did he not breathe on our god. and lo! he was no more? Has he not the Powers of Sleep and Death in his hands? Who can stand against him?"

"No one, O Gra!" Jim retorted stoutly. "In the end Ka-Ra will pay for his treachery. Sooner or later the Hairy One will come with destruction in his hand, and woe to the foolish Falta who have listened to this man's words."

"I know it, O Shining One," Gra answered. "I have said it even to my comrades. But they will not listen to me. They are mad with the Kru's words. So angry were they with me that they would have fallen on me, so I held my peace."

Jim recognised the wisdom of this cautious behaviour, for if anything were to happen to Gra he would be left without one single friend in his desperate predicament.

"That is well, Gra. The Hairy One will do you great honour for your wisdom. Let neither Ka-Ra nor the other Falta know what you think. Listen to what they say, and keep it in your mind."

There was just one other matter which Jim felt ought to be dealt with before he considered his own personal convenience. Somehow, Ka-Ra must be deprived of the revolver which, in his inexpert hand, might be the cause of terrible slaughter.

"Listen carefully to what I have to say, Gra. This Ka-Ra has stolen one of the shining instruments that I wore in my belt. It contains great magic which only the Hairy One and myself understand. The magic may get loose and destroy you and your comrades. Yon must secure it for me, Gra."

Jim gave a detailed description of the revolver, particularly impressing upon Gra not to hold it, except by either end, for fear that his clumsy fingers might touch the trigger. Gra thrust both his arms down the companion-way, almost completely filling the circular aperture. His fingers groped in the pilot-house like the tentacles of an enormous octopus.

"Shall I not catch him and kill him, O Shining One? I have but to squeeze him between my hands like that, and he will be no more!"

Those huge hands came together with a squeezing motion. Jim had an unpleasant picture of Ka-Ra being pressed to death.

"No, Gra. The Hairy One does not want bloodshed. He hates to kill. Get me just this instrument for which I ask. You can pluck it from his belt when no one is looking. Now loosen this thing that binds my hands."

He turned himself over as he spoke, and the next moment he felt those fumbling lingers fasten on the sash with which his hands were bound. There was a wrench, a rending sound, and he was free. Gra had not troubled to undo the knots; he had merely torn the tough material apart as if it were made of paper!

Jim sprung to his feet with a sigh of relief. As he did so, Gra disappeared abruptly from the aperture above. Somewhat puzzled by his sudden disappearance, Jim cautiously climbed the ladder. His head was just on a level with the deck, when he saw Ka-Ra approaching the opening.

Jim ducked quickly, but it was too late. The Kru had seen him, and realising instinctively the dangers that threatened all his if one who understood the mysteries of the Flying Submarine were to escape, he acted with commendable promptitude.

Risking a broken neck, Ka-Ra sprang into the opening, and, striking Jim on the shoulders with his feet, came down on to the floor of the pilot-house with his arms gripping the boy tightly. Half dazed as he was by the fall, Jim struggled valiantly.

It was a strange contest that took place in that confined space. Owing to the diving-dress it was quite impossible for Ka-Ra to do Jim any real damage. On the other hand, the boy was not strong enough to stand up to a powerful man like the Kru.

The struggle resolved itself into an attempt on Ka-Ra's part to hold the boy's arms to his side and prevent the other's lusty kicks by lying on his legs.

Twice he obviously thought he had mastered Jim, for he rose to his feet, only to find that the shining figure on the ground was still very much alive. The combat might have ended in the exhaustion of Ka-Ra had not something utterly unexpected happened.

As Jim rose to his feet for the third time, and made a lunge at Ka-Ra's head with his gauntletted right, the Kru snatched the revolver from the belt about his waist. The fact that he held it the wrong way round did not give Jim any confidence.

In a flash the boy realised what would be the effect of the explosion of one of those powerful oxygen cartridges in such confined surroundings. The pilot-house might be wrecked and the delicate controls of the Flying Submarine's machinery irretrievably ruined. Even the certainty of Ka-Ra's destruction would hardly be compensation for such a disaster.

Jim acted swiftly. As luck would have it, he was standing just on the threshold of the spiral stairs. As Ka-Ra, with one finger dangerously near the trigger, presented the butt of the weapon at him with a glow of vicious triumph in his dark eyes, Jim flung up his arms and, acting to perfection the part of one who had been struck by the magic of that weapon, hurled himself backwards down the stairs.

His body struck the bend, cannoned off the railing, and continued its bumping course downwards. In vain he tried to catch the rail to stay his fall. His head, in its loose-fitting headpiece, rattled like a dried pea in a pod. Stars danced before his eyes. He cried out despairingly at the top of his voice. Then there was a final crash, and darkness settled down upon his brain!

FROM the head of the staircase, Ka-Ra peered down into the darkness. The electric light had been switched off. Nothing was visible. His enemy had been sent hurtling down that abyss by the magic of the Hairy One. He had tested the efficiency of the magic.

Had not the Shining One withstood all his efforts to render him helpless until he had pointed that wonderful instrument at him? Then, of a sudden, he had grown powerless and, with a shriek, had vanished into the bowels of the Flying Thing—into that pit of darkness—where Ka-Ra—who, like all the Kru, was intensely superstitious—had no intention of following him. It was enough that he had proved the value of the great power of which he was now the possessor.

But there was one fly in the ointment of his content. The Shining One, from whom he had hoped to extract the secret of the Flying Thing by the simple process of depriving him of food and drink until he gave the desired information, had vanished, never, he was convinced, to return again. How, then, was he to obtain this secret?

It was a difficult problem, and its solution was not without a grave personal risk to himself, he realised. Ka-Ra had made many promises to the Falta; they were to have the secret of the Flying Thing, and to become masters of the Inner Cavern. If he couldn't deliver the goods, there would certainly be trouble for himself.

The Falta were like children, easily influenced by someone of greater intelligence and stronger character; but, also like children, they were susceptible to gusts of passion if they were crossed or disappointed. They would think nothing of taking him and plucking him limb from limb if he should in any way fail them.

Leaning against the wall of the pilot-house, Ka-Ra debated with himself the dark problems of his future. How to get the secret of the Flying Thing's magic.

There was only one other who knew it, and that was the Hairy One. Obviously, therefore, he must somehow get the Hairy One into his power. But the Hairy One was armed with the same magic weapons as himself, and, being more expert in their management, might use them first, in which case, Ka-Ra realised, he would come to a quick and sticky end.

It was a situation that demanded strategy. He must keep the Falta in ignorance of the annihilation of the lesser Shining One, and devise some plan for getting hold of the Hairy One.

He had seen the Hairy One with his headpiece off, and he was intelligent enough to realise that in that situation the man could be attacked like any other man—that without his armour he was vulnerable.

For the better part of an hour Ka-Ra stood there, communing with himself, and then, with a rather nervous glance at that black hole in the floor down which Jim had disappeared, he climbed the ladder on to the deck.

Some twenty of the Falta were seated cross-legged on the great shining curves of the Flying Submarine, their combined weight keeping the great vessel on the ground. Ka-Ra turned and addressed them.

"Know, O Falta, that I have overcome the Shining One. I have imprisoned him where he will remain until he tells the secret of this Flying Thing. Meanwhile, O Falta, we must be up and doing. There is yet the Hairy One that we must take captive."

He had cunningly reflected that if Stanislaus Cripps came out into the Outer Cavern, and the Flying Submarine were to be allowed to float at her moorings, he would see her, and exert himself to get possession of her. It was also possible that he might catch sight of her lying on the ground.

The obvious thing to do was to conceal the Flying Submarine, and this could be done effectively by utilising some of the huge boulders with which the floor of the cavern was strewn.

He issued his orders in that imperious tone to which he had been quick to discover these childlike giants readily submitted. While their comrades kept the Flying Submarine in position, others began to pile together some of the great boulders that lay about. As each Falta was capable of lifting unaided a mass of rock weighing four or five tons the work proceeded apace.

Very soon a kind of vast, elongated cairn began to rise up above the shining sides of the Flying Submarine. Under Ka-Ra's directions they built this pile with two sloping sides, making the base sufficiently wide to enable them to clamber up with their burdens when the rising tide of rock had got beyond their reach.

Soon those seated astride on the deck of the submarine were able to assist in the work. At the end of an hour a pyramid of stone, over three hundred feet high, had been erected about the Flying Submarine. Ka-Ra viewed the result with satisfaction. The Flying Thing was completely hidden, and also it was no longer able to float up into the air.

"That is well, O Falta!" he exclaimed. "Rest now and eat, for before long the work to which we have set our hands must be accomplished!"

THE Falta brought out their cooking-pots, lit the fires, and prepared their mess of boiled fish, shovelling great handfuls of the food into their cavernous mouths, and expressing their amusement at Ka-Ra's comparatively small performance by little twittering sounds. When they had finished, Ka-Ra, climbing half-way up the pile that hid the Flying Submarine, once more addressed them.

"There is only one enemy left that you need fear, O Falta, and that is the Hairy One. He has, even as I have, the two magic weapons of Sleep and Death. We must secure them. We must take him captive."

The Falta nodded their great heads as if approving of this suggestion. Only one of them ventured to voice an objection.

"True. But I have thought of that, O Falta. Not one of you shall suffer from the magic. I will show you a way by which all can be accomplished without any risk."

"The Hairy One is a great boaster. With my own ears I heard him say that he would make the Falta the slaves of the Kru. You were to work for the Kru, O Falta—toiling and sweating, while they, your masters, lived in idleness."

A cry like the screaming of myriad seagulls arose from the giants seated on their haunches on the ground below him. Ka-Ra realised that the temperature of the meeting was rising, and that was exactly what he desired. He must feed their passions to white heat so that they could get rid of their fears.

"And what answer have you to this boaster? Are you to slave for the Kru? Are you, who are masters of the Outer Cavern, to toil and sweat for those whom you could crush with one hand? This Hairy One seeks your destruction. But I will show you a way by which all his boasting shall be brought to nought."

"It is a very cunning plan that I have formed," explained Ka-Ra. "This is what you must do. You will go, all of you, to within one hundred paces of the entrance to the Inner Cavern. There you will be safe from the liquid fire should any of the Kru attempt to attack you.

"When you have arrived at this spot, you may throw yourselves on your knees on the ground and abase yourselves. Be sure there will be some who will go to the Hairy One and tell him what the Falta are doing. He will think that you are humbled—that you are prepared to become his slaves. And he is so boastful—so sure of the might of his magic—that he will come out to you and speak to you."

"You will let him draw near, O Falta. You will utter humble words. You will call him Master. You will tell him that his enemies are your enemies—that hereafter you will be content to let his foot rest upon your necks."

"Then, when he is sure that you are his slaves, and he has approached near enough, you will seize him swiftly, and remove from the belt about his waist the magic weapons that he carries there Then you will bring him to me, and I will deal with him!"

The Falta showed their approval of his proposed strategy by beating the ground with the flats of their hands.

"It shall be done, Ka-Ra!" one of the Falta exclaimed. "Little is your body, but great is your wisdom!"

"Then go, Falta, and do as I have bid you. I will stay here, and you will bring me the Hairy One, when you have seized him!"

He made as if to descend from the pile of boulders. Instantly one of the giants rose and stopped forward.

"Why should the Kru, who has given us so freely of his wisdom, trouble to climb down when I can lift him?"

It was Gra who spoke. Ka-Ra, gratified by this illustration of the personal authority he had imposed upon the giants, instantly stood still. Gra reached out one enormous hand and, clasping Ka-Ra about the waist, gently raised him from the boulder on which he stood. The Falta then set him on the ground. At the same time, unnoticed by Ka-Ra himself, or any of the other assembled giants, Gra's disengaged hand closed about the revolver the Kru carried at his waist. The next, moment he had taken the weapon and hidden it in the folds of the cloth that he wore about his massive loins!

QUITE unconscious of the fate that had overtaken Jim, Stanislaus Cripps carried out the task he had set himself of transporting into the Outer Cavern the unconscious Falta from the spot where he blocked the entrance to the Hall of the People.

Driving the tractor through the shattered opening, he guided it to the threshold of the hall, where already Masra and fifty assistants were struggling to raise that giant form.

"You'd better leave this job to me," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "It's rather more than you can manage."

Making them raise the giant's legs, he drove the tractor under his body. Allowing the legs to rest on either side of the tractor, he worked the machine forward until that huge frame was balanced on the deck. Then, telling the Kru to support the giant's shoulders so that he would come to no harm in his passage down the corridor, Cripps backed the tractor.

In a few minutes the giant had been safely deposited on the floor of the Outer Cavern. Squatting by his side, Stanislaus Cripps watched him until he showed signs of returning consciousness.

Presently the Falta opened his enormous jaws and yawned. Then he rubbed his eyes with the back of one of his huge hands. Abruptly he sat up, his enormous abdominal muscles contracting into the semblance of tree roots as he made this exertion. Stanislaus Cripps, who had risen to his feet, watched him cautiously, the cylinder of sleeping gas ready in his hand. The giant blinked at him.

"Have you had enough, O Falta?" Cripps exclaimed. "Or shall I give you some more sleep?"

A recollection of what had happened to him in the Hall of the People seemed to occur to the giant. He looked almost nervously at the cylinder of sleeping gas, and then, twisting round, he dropped on his knees, bending his head to the ground.

"O Shining One, you are very great! Who is there who can stand against you? I am your slave. Have I not seen your power?"

"You say true, O Falta. I am great. It would be foolish not to admit it. And this is the nature of my greatness. I could slay you here now, yet I hold my hand. Even as your comrade brutally tore the unfortunate Kru to pieces, so I could scatter your great, stupid body to indistinguishable fragments of flesh. I have but to press, and you will just cease to be."

"But peace is what I desire to build in this world," the scientist continued. "No more shall the Kru and the Falta be at enmity. Each shall labour for the common purpose. You shall be as one people—the great and the little. Go now to your brothers, and speak to them the words I have said. Tell them that they have but to come to me and submit, and all shall be well with them. No longer shall they know fear. I, the Shining One, have said it!"

Little did he dream, as he framed that message for the Falta, how he was playing into Ka-Ra's hands!

"I will do even as you say, O Shining One," the Falta twittered. "Is it your will that I go now?"

He was clearly anxious to get out of that dangerous neighbourhood as soon as possible.

"Yes, go!" Cripps nodded. "I will remain here, or in the neighbourhood. If the words of which I have made you the bearer let the light of wisdom into the minds of the Falta, they have but to come here and humble themselves, and I will be their father and protector!"

THE Falta rose abruptly to his feet, then strode swiftly away into the azure gloom. Stanislaus Cripps watched him until he had disappeared, and then looked about for Jim. There, a quarter of a mile away, were the stores over which he had left his companion to mount guard.

There was no answer save the echoes that repeated "Boy!" in mocking tones. Stanislaus Cripps strode to the spot where the stores were littered about the ground. There was no sign of Jim anywhere.

As if the better to make his voice heard, he removed the headpiece of his diving suit, and, curving his hands about his mouth, sent his voice booming across the Outer Cavern.

Receiving no reply to that summons, he shielded his eyes with his hands and peered into the gloom. Nothing moved among the boulders. Nowhere could he see any trace of Jim.

"What's got the boy?" he exclaimed. "I told him to wait here." He stood for a moment frowning, and then a grin lighted up his face. "That's it, I'll bet. He's gone to see Tinta. Still, I'd best make sure."

Taking an apple out of the barrel, he strode back to the entrance to the Inner Cavern, munching it as he went, the headpiece of his suit of armour dangling by his side. Finding Masra, he inquired if he had seen Jim.

"He did. I left him to guard the stores while I got rid of that Falta. I was thinking, Masra that he might have gone in search of your daughter, for anyone can see that he likes her. Where is Tinta?"

"She is in the Cave of Pain, whither you sent her to look after the wounded, O Hairy One."

But there was nobody in the Kru's primitive substitute for a hospital save the unfortunate victims of the Falta's brutality and those who were tending them. Stanislaus Cripps saw that their wounds had been bathed and their dislocated limbs bound and set.

"I have not seen Krim since I left the Cave of the People to look after these unfortunate ones."

Instantly Tinta seemed to understand the thoughts that were passing through his mind. An expression of grave anxiety crossed her face.

Stanislaus Cripps explained the circumstance in which he had left Jim, and how he could find no trace of him. That troubled look deepened in Tinta's eyes.

"But if he was alone there in the Outer Cavern, the Falta must have caught him. O Hairy One, we must go and look. If the Falta have taken him we must rescue him."

Without more ado she hurried from the Cave of Pain and along the network of corridors to the shattered exit to the Inner Cavern. Stanislaus Cripps and Masra followed. Once they were in the Outer Cavern Stanislaus Cripps pointed out the spot where he had left Jim.

"He has been captured by the Falta!" Tinta exclaimed wildly. "Oh, Hairy One, I know it! We must go and search for him!"

Tinta's anxiety now found reflection in Stanislaus Cripps' mind. He remembered how Jim had risked his life to rescue him from the hands of the Falta—the courage and resource the boy had shown during those dreadful moments before the coming of the great light. And, quite apart from this, Stanislaus Cripps was influenced by a real liking and friendship for Jim.

Insensibly, the youngster who had dared to beard him at Widgery Dene with a demand for the payment of his mother's bill had become a friend and companion. Between them now was the link of common adventure and the facing of death side by side.

"Cheer up, Tinta. We'll get the boy right enough. Bound to! If I have to blow the whole of these hypertrophied idiots to blazes I'll collect the youngster!"

Stanislaus Cripps led the way at a run towards the tractor, and, motioning Tinta and Masra to take their seats, leapt into his place at the wheel. The next moment the engines, springing to life, were driving the glittering machine at a brisk pace across the rock-strewn ground.

Zig-zagging backwards and forward so that he could bring every portion of the ground under review, moving from the edge of the cliff to the shores of the lake, he had advanced about a mile when, ahead of him, there appeared a number of the Falta. Stopping the tractor, Stanislaus Cripps watched them approach.

"What do you make of this?" he asked his companions. "There must be nearly eighty of them—about the whole crowd. What do you think they're after?"

Neither Tinta nor Masra had anything to suggest. The Falta, marching ten abreast in some sort of rough order, were approaching the spot at a rapid pace. As each of their strides covered some eight yards of ground, it took them only a matter of a few minutes to reach the little party waiting in the tractor. Masra cried warningly.

"If they make trouble, so much the worse for them," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "Anyway, you needn't be anxious, Masra. If the worse comes to the worst, I can set this machine going at a pace which would out distance them easily."

The Falta approached to within a hundred yards, then halted, the rear ranks coming level with their comrades in front, and making a long line that stretched for the better part of a mile. Then, with that peculiar twittering sound, they flung their twenty-foot bodies on the rocky floor.

Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed, with a laugh, speaking in English, and then added, as if addressing those giant forms: "On the feet up!"

Needless to say the Falta took no notice of those instructions. They knelt there, beating their foreheads on the ground and still continuing their twittering sounds.

Stanislaus Cripps was reminded of the message he had sent them. They had come to submit. This was just what he had told them they must do if they were willing to have peace. He gave a grunt of satisfaction.

"It's all right, Tinta. The Falta have recognised at last the futility of continuing this old feud with the Kru. I sent them word by that Falta we had to drag out of the Hall of the People that if they wanted peace they could have it by coming and showing themselves submissive and humble. That's what all this means. Now we shall be able to hear what's become of the boy."

WITH his head still unprotected by the headpiece of his suit of armour, Cripps leapt excitedly from the tractor. Masra sprang after him in alarm.

"The very worst thing would be to show fear, Masra. I tell you, this is what I expected."

"But do not go within their reach, O Hairy One, Their arms stretch out four times as far as a man can cover at a stride, and they are swift to seize, O Hairy One!"

"Do you take me for a fool, Masra?" Cripps retorted indignantly. "Could I not send these Falta to sleep if I wish to, or deal with them as I dealt with He-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken and that brute in the Hall of the People?"

With a fearless, resolute look in his eyes he walked calmly to within twenty yards of that line of cringing giants. Then he halted, and sent his voice booming through the Cavern.

One of the giants raised his head and answered for his comrades in his high-pitched, twittering voice.

"O Hairy One! We know how great and powerful you are. We know that we cannot fight any longer. Armed with your power and your wisdom, the Kru are too much for us. We would have peace, O Hairy One."

Stanislaus Cripps folded his arms, and let his eyes wander down that long line of giant forms. Right at the far end one of the giants was making curious movements with his hand, and, raising his face, was looking intently at Stanislaus Cripps, shaking his head as he did so.

But the distance of this particular giant from Stanislaus Cripps was too great for him to understand those signals, or to recognise the features of the faithful Gra.

"It is well, O Falta!" said Cripps. "Never is it too late to seek wisdom. But if there is to be peace between us, it must be on my terms."

"It is as the Hairy One wills," the spokesman of the party exclaimed. "The Falta, are his slaves!"

"Considering my very superior intelligence, that is as it should be. Now listen, O Falta. I am willing to hold my hand, and neither to stretch you in sleep nor blast you to nothingness with the instrument I possess if this peace you ask for be a real peace.

"You must swear friendship with the Kru. No longer must you seek to keep the Fish Food that comes down the Great Drain for yourselves alone. You must share all things in common with the Kru. The Kru, on their part, will show you how to make clothing to cover you, give you to drink of the milk of their cattle, and the meat that they gather daily in the Cave of the Mushrooms. Is that understood?"

As if to show that they understood his terms, the long line of Falta beat the ground with their hands.

"Good." Stanislaus Cripps continued. "And there are other matters. There are to be no more sacrifices to your god, or any other god you happen to set up in place of the one I destroyed. There is to be an end of bloodshed and butchery."

Again those vast palms clapped the rocky floor, making a sharp rippling sound not unlike the firing of a nest of Lewis guns.

"And you have been idle. O Falta, and idleness is bad. I will have to show you how to work and build. It is to be understood, therefore, that between us my word is law."

"Then that's settled." Stanislaus Cripps went on. "You can arise and go your ways until I send you a message which will inform you of how you shall order your lives."

But none of the giants moved—only far away at the end of the line that same giant figure was waving his hand almost despairingly and shaking his head.

"Until the Hairy One touches one of us with his own hand we will not move," the spokesman exclaimed. "We shall know then that in truth he has forgiven us for daring to stand up against his might and magic."

But Stanislaus Cripps ignored that warning. It was only when Tinta called to him, reminding him that they did not know what fate had overtaken Jim, that he halted.

"There's one of the Shining Ones who is missing," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "You must have seen him, O Falta!"

"He came to speak to us, O Hairy One, when we were debating how we should make peace with you and the Kru. Even now he is waiting for you in the open space about our huts."

"The boy is all right, my dear. He seems to have taken a hand in bringing this scene about. Shows great intelligence and initiative on his part."

PERFECTLY satisfied that everything was as it should he—confident, as always, in his own judgment—and believing that these huge creatures had quite naturally and inevitably recognised his superiority, Stanislaus Cripps approached the Falta to perform the ritual on which they had insisted.

Selecting their spokesman as a suitable subject, he walked fearlessly towards him. There was the great head resting with its forehead on the ground. Stanislaus Cripps stretched out his hand and pulled the matted hair on the giant's head.

As he uttered the words those great arms made a circling movement, and a huge hand closed about his waist. Before he could utter a sound, or even think of struggling, the giants on either side snatched the weapons from his belt.

Then the Falta who was gripping him rose to his feet. He looked Stanislaus Cripps in the eyes triumphantly.

"O Hairy One, you have been caught by a cunning greater than your own. Now how will your magic avail you? What can you do now that the sleeping and the destroying magic have been taken from you?" He chattered at his captive like some mysterious monkey behind the bars of a cage. "Great words you spoke to us just now. But they were all lies! You intended to make us your slaves—slaves of the Kru!"

Stanislaus Cripps mastered the anger that was raging at his heart with difficulty. To be caught like this by one of these hypertrophied idiots—oh, it was the last word in humiliation!

"And now we will take you, O Hairy One, to him who has guided us," the giant Falta went on. "He will find means to make you tell the secret Magic of the Flying Thing. Then we will sacrifice you to our god, whom you blasted. Once before you were kept among us for the great sacrifice at the Coming of the Light. You escaped then; but this time, O Hairy One, you shall not escape!"

He felt bitterly angry with himself that he should have allowed the Falta to dupe him as they had.

There must be somebody behind them, for they were too ignorant to think of such a cunning plan themselves.

Cripps frowned perplexedly. The Falta had said that Jim was waiting for him in their huts. Surely he wasn't responsible for this?

Just then the scientist turned and saw the panic-stricken Masra and Tinta. A sudden idea occurred to him.

But before either Tinta or her father could move one of the Falta had stepped out of the ranks, and, with a sweep of his arm, had seized them.

"Bring them safely with you, and let them not escape," replied the Falta who had captured Stanislaus Cripps.

Then, with bird-like screams, the whole body of grants faced about, and strode across the boulder-strewn ground. In a few minutes they had gained the site of their stone huts.

There, on a great pile of stones which Stanislaus Cripps never remembered seeing before, stood a little figure before whom his captors bowed before speaking.

"O mighty and cunning one, here is the Hairy One whom we have captured, even as you said. Tell us now how we shall tear the secret of the Flying Thing's magic from his heart."

The Falta stretched out the hand with which he was gripping his captive, holding him only a few feet away from that little figure on the pile of stones. With a shock Stanislaus Cripps found himself staring into the dark, malignant features of the traitor Ka-Ra!

KA-RA'S face glowed with a malevolent triumph as he looked mockingly at Stanislaus Cripps.

"Where now are your boasts, O Hairy One?" he sneered. "But a while ago you were so great that I was mere dirt under your feet. You mocked me before the Kru, you humbled me into the dust. But what are you now? Where is your magic? You are helpless, and my prisoner!"

He leaned forward and struck Stanislaus Cripps on the cheek with his hand. The effect on the prisoner was instantaneous. Never at any time a mild-tempered man, this outrage reduced Cripps almost to an apoplexy of rage.

Ka-Ra laughed at him, evidently enjoying the sight of his prisoner's red cheeks and passionate eyes.

"Set him down there so that I may speak to him," he exclaimed in an authoritative tone, pointing to the base of the great pile of boulders. "Catch him so that he does not escape, O Falta!"

Stanislaus Cripps found himself standing on the ground, while the Falta eliminated any chance of his escape by the simple process of seating themselves in a huge circle about him. He stood there, a very minute figure compared to the giant forms by which he was surrounded, and yet, even in that moment of his humiliation, his courage was undimmed, his natural pugnacity unblunted, and he faced his persecutors with fearless, unflinching eyes.

Ka-Ra stepped into the circle with an assumption of great dignity, and, approaching him, stood for a moment staring at him with malevolent eyes. Stanislaus Cripps returned that fixed gaze with a steady, contemptuous glance before which the other's eyes presently fell.

"And what do you think you can do, Ka-Ra?" Stanislaus Cripps inquired. "I am in your power, you say. You can kill me, but a child can destroy. What glory is there in that?"

"Many thing's will happen before you die, O Hairy One!" Ka-Ra retorted with a vicious gleam in his eyes.

"You're just the ordinary common, swindling sort of fool. You are so eaten up with vanity that you have sold your people, and betrayed them to their enemies. But what do you think will happen to you yourself? The Falta are but children—stupid, blundering children. Very soon they will grow tired of you. One of them, in a moment of irritation, will pluck you asunder as the tenderers of the Food pluck the mushrooms from the ground!"

He saw Ka-Ra blanch. Evidently the man had never quite blinded himself to the possibility of this unpleasant prospect.

"You forget, O Hairy One, that I am armed now with your magic," Ka-Ra reminded his prisoner. "The Powers of Sleep and Destruction are mine!"

Stanislaus Cripps combed his long red beard with his fingers, a look of infinite scorn in his eyes.

"You don't know how to use them, Ka-Ra. In your hands they can accomplish nothing. Sooner or later the Falta will discover what a cheat you are, and then there will be no more Ka-Ra—Ka-Ra who betrayed his people—Ka-Ra the traitor!"

A spasm of rage shook Ka-Ra. This dialogue was being conducted not at all on the lines he desired. He had intended to impress his giant allies with his might and power by making Stanislaus Cripps look very small and ridiculous. Instead, the boot was very much on the other foot. It was he who was being made small and ridiculous.

"You lie, O Hairy One!" he snarled. "I am already master of your magic. The Lesser Shining One has already fallen before it!"

Ka-Ra had the satisfaction of seeing that his words had at last struck home. The colour died out of Stanislaus Cripps' face. He stood there, staring mutely at Ka-Ra, his lips trembling.

He choked with passion, and then, as if forgetful of his predicament, he sprang at Ka-Ra. Seizing him, he flung the Kru on the ground.

There was no knowing what he might have done to Ka-Ra had not a Falta seized him about the waist and jerked him from off his prostrate foe. Even then, in spite of his helplessness, he kicked and struggled and shouted his opinion of Ka-Ra in his big booming voice.

Tinta, who with her father had been standing by Cripps' side, dropped to the ground, and burying her face in her hands sobbed as if her heart were broken.

"O Krim!" she wailed. "O Krim, whither you have gone I will come soon! Kill me now, O Falta, and let me go!"

The giant who was holding Stanislaus Cripps gave him a little squeeze, which, whatever its intention, only served to increase his captive's intense irritation.

Meanwhile, Ka-Ra, obviously very shaken, had picked himself up. He was spluttering with rage.

"Before you are torn limb from limb, O Hairy One—before you are sacrificed with these others to the god of the Falta whom you insulted—there are things you must tell me. Die you must, but the manner of your death depends upon yourself. I would know the secret of the magic of the Flying Thing. Tell me that, O Hairy One, and your passing shall be painless. Refuse, and you shall know the agonies of death many times before you pass into the Great Shadow!"

STANISLAUS CRIPPS controlled himself with an effort. Nothing was to be gained by any further show of his intense irascibility. He must match this man's cunning with a cunning more subtle.

"Do you think me a fool, O Hairy One? Shall I show you the Flying Thing, that you may call to it and make it do your bidding?"

"Without doubt you are very wise, O Ka-Ra; but all the same, I cannot show you the magic of the Flying Thing unless I can get inside it, and explain to you how it is moved. It is not controlled by my voice. There are things to be done—bars of metal to be moved—before it can spring to life, and do what is required of it."

"You can tell me what must be done," Ka-Ra retorted. "I will bear your words in mind."

"You wouldn't understand. If I were to talk from now until the next coming of the Great Light you wouldn't understand."

"Tell me the magic that must be done, O Hairy One! I will remember your words and do what you say."

At that moment Stanislaus Cripps felt the giant who was holding him again squeeze him. As he struggled in protest the Falta, as if to scratch his face, raised the scientist to the level of his eyes. The next moment Stanislaus Cripps found himself staring into the friendly features of Gra.

The discovery was startling in the extreme, but he managed to preserve his customary coolness. It was impossible to grasp the full meaning of the situation, but instinct told him that Gra was his friend and ally—that the giant wanted him to know that he was his friend and ally. He must temporise, Cripps decided, until he understood the position more fully—until Gra could convey to him some hint as to what course of action he intended to follow.

"You say you have stolen the magic of Sleep and Destruction," said Cripps. "Steal, therefore, Kru thief, the secret of the magic of the Flying Thing. Even as the magic of Sleep and Destruction are useless in your hands, so will the Flying Thing be."

For a moment Ka-Ra was nonplussed. He was uneasy and uncertain. He turned suspiciously to the Falta about him.

"I bade you seize the instruments of Sleep and Destruction in the Hairy One's belt," he exclaimed. "Where are they?"

Two of the giants stretched out their hands with a gesture that suggested helplessness.

"We took them, O Ka-Ra, even as you ordered, but the magic of the Hairy One snatched them away from us again. We know not where they are."

Ka-Ra started and glanced suspiciously at Stanislaus Cripps. If the Hairy One still possessed these weapons, there was no knowing when he might not use them.

"Hold his arms tightly!" he screamed. Then, as Gra obeyed these instructions, very gently pinning his captive's arms behind his back by the pressure of his thumb and finger, he added: "Lay him on the ground, and drag him out of that metal case."

As if the better to perform this order, Gra laid Stanislaus Cripps on the ground. Then kneeling down so that his huge frame entirely covered him, he began to draw the scientist's arms out of the diving dress.

At the same time one of those great hands closed about Stanislaus Cripps' fingers, and he felt two hard metallic instruments pressed against his palm. He gave one glance, then realised that the faithful giant had somehow recovered the revolver and the cylinder of sleeping gas that had been stolen from him, and had returned them. Just then Ka-Ra's cruel voice began speaking again.

"Stretch him out on the ground, O Falta, and let two of you seize each a leg, and two each an arm. Then pull gently. Perchance when the pain comes upon him he will speak!"

As four giants rose to do the Kru's bidding Stanislaus Cripps bounded to his feet. In his right hand was the revolver—in his left the cylinder of sleeping gas.

The four giants halted abruptly, evidently impressed by the sight of those weapons in his hand. Gra, as if terrified, had broken through the circle, and was standing some distance away. A twittering sound came from the Falta.

"Now, Ka-Ra—now is the time to show that your magic is stronger than his!" they cried.

Ka-Ra, obviously badly seared, plucked the cylinder of sleeping gas from his waist and pointed it towards Stanislaus Cripps—evidently believing that the weapon would work of itself. Stanislaus Cripps took one step forward.

"Your blood be on your own head, Ka-Ra! You're a murdering rascal, and though I hate this butchering business, there's nothing else for it!"

He pulled the trigger as he spoke, but there was no report. Swiftly he sought for an explanation of this unexpected happening. There had been five cartridges in the chambers. Two he had used to break open the gate that blocked the way from the Cave of the Fires to the Inner Cavern. A third he had used to destroy the Falta in the Hall of the People. What had happened to the other two?

The answer dawned upon Cripps in the fraction of a second. He must have inadvertently wasted the other two cartridges on that memorable day, when, half dead with physical exhaustion, he had blown open the gate between the Cave of the Fires and the Inner Cavern.

"On second thoughts, Ka-Ra, I think it would be a greater punishment for you to let you live," Cripps remarked coolly. As he uttered the words, he touched the button of the cylinder in his left hand, and released a cloud of the sleeping gas.

Instantly Ka-Ra dropped like a stone to the ground. Stanislaus Cripps, keeping well away from the neighbourhood of that recumbent figure for fear lest he might be affected by the sleeping gas, then turned and faced the Falta.

"There is the leader of your choice! There is the man who taught you treachery, O Falta! I would have been your friend. I would have given you peace and order, yet you dared to set a trap for me. Now say, what punishment do you deserve?"

For a moment his words had the desired effect. The Falta, raising their giant forms from the ground as if by one common impulse, stood there staring at him with their huge eyes and slobbering lips. But it was only for a moment that that panic of consternation held them spellbound.

The next instant one of them—he was standing just behind Stanislaus Cripps—reached out an arm furtively, and before even the warning cry left Tinta's lips, had seized him and lifted him from the ground. Before Stanislaus Cripps could touch the button of the cylinder of sleeping gas the instrument had been torn from his grasp with a force that almost dislocated his arm. At the same moment Tinta and Masra were also seized.

With little twittering screams of triumph the Falta closed round their comrade who had taken captive the being whom they looked upon as the master of mighty magic. And in their heedless rush their huge feet trampled into an indistinguishable mass the form of Ka-Ra the traitor!

"To the altar with them!" one of the giants shouted in his high falsetto voice. "Now at last will our offended god have the victim he desired!"

LIKE a flock of stampeded sheep the giants raced across the floor of the cavern to the spot where once the great idol had stood. The sacrificial stone was still there intact, and forming a circle about it, they laid their victims down.

Stanislaus Cripps sprang to his feet as soon as he was released, and with one hand gripping his red beard, stared round with flaming eyes at the vast forms and horrible faces of the giants. Then, with the first suggestion of hopelessness that he had ever displayed, he turned to his fellow captives.

"This is the end, Tinta, my dear. You and Masra have been good friends and comrades. I'm sorry to have got you into this mess!"

He held out a hand to each of them, Tinta, as she clasped his fingers, bent down and pressed her lips to them.

Even as she uttered the words, a shining object came circling above the heads of the giants and fell at Stanislaus Cripps' side. As he saw it, Cripps gave a little shout of triumph, and snatched up the glittering object. It was the revolver that Ka-Ra had stolen from Jim, and which Gra, acting on the boy's orders, had subsequently stolen from the Kru. Risking the rage and anger of his comrades, the faithful giant had flung the weapon on the sacrificial stone.

It was clear that the Falta had no conception of the way in which the tables had been turned against them. They still regarded their victims as being entirely at their mercy. Their eyes had hardly seen the little object that had come flying through the air.

They stood there debating among themselves the exact nature of the death which their victims were to suffer. At last they reached a decision, for after a lot of nodding one of the Falta produced a knife and, urged on by his comrades, stepped on to the sacrificial stone. He made a scooping movement with his hand to collect Stanislaus Cripps as the first and most important victim for the satisfaction of his outraged god. At the same moment Stanislaus Cripps fired.

There was an car-splitting report, and the giant vanished. But if Stanislaus Cripps had thought to cow the Falta by this terrible example, he was disappointed.

Their sluggish blood had been warmed to fever-heat; their pinpoint brains, inflamed by Ka-Ra's intoxicating words, made them absolutely reckless. With a twittering scream they flung themselves towards the sacrificial stone.

In vain Stanislaus Cripps, standing protectively in front of Tinta and Masra, tried to blast a path through that closing circle of giants. Four times he fired, and so great was the press that each of those powerful oxygen bullets accounted for no less than three of the Falta. But the gaps were closed immediately, and the maddened Falta bore down upon their victims relentlessly.

With a gesture of despair he flung the now useless weapon at the Falta who was rushing at him. A moment later that mad pandemonium had ceased and the circle of giants had once more closed about the sacrificial stone on which now lay the three victims. Kneeling by Stanislaus Cripps' side was one of the Falta, to whom the duty of acting as High Priest had been delegated by his comrades. In his hands was the sacrificial knife.

At that moment through the vast spaces of the Outer Cavern rose a roar like a landslide. Then followed the thunderous ear-splitting report of hundreds of vast boulders being flung and scattered about the floor of the cavern!

JIM lay bruised and unconscious on one of the floors of the Flying Submarine. How long he lay there he never knew. Then upon the blankness of his mind there began to dawn certain vague pictures—the first glimmerings of returning consciousness.

He was in the Cave of the Fires again. There, standing before him, was the radiant figure of HE. Then presently, by some process that Jim could not understand, HE turned to Stanislaus Cripps, with his long red beard and his suit of new plus fours—for which some anxious tailor was still expecting payment.

"Boy, it's nearly all over!" Cripps seemed to be saying. "What a jest it has been! I thought that I really was the goods—a very important person, boy. And I wasn't anybody really—just a middle-aged man who had discovered, after much patience and study, a few interesting secrets, and was playing about with them."

Jim heard him laugh—a big booming laugh which faded away into the quiet note of his mother's voice.

"Jim, it didn't really matter about that sixteen-and-fivepence-half penny. It wasn't worth making all that fuss about. I would sooner have none of my bills paid, if only you hadn't gone from me. You thought it so important that I should be paid—and it didn't really matter, when one thinks of all the things in life that do matter."

Jim could see his mother's face—the wrinkle about her dear eyes; and then that face slid insensibly into the features of Tinta.

"O Krim, I will be with you soon! Dear Krim, it is so easy to slip into the Land of Shadows, and we shall be there together. Have courage, Krim. I am coming soon!"

It was with those words echoing in his dazed brain that Jim opened his eyes. All about him was impenetrable blackness. He put his hand to his head—which was aching horrible—only to discover that it was covered by the headpiece of the diving-dress.

What had happened? Where was he? Was this the place beyond the grave where he had met just a moment before HE and Stanislaus Cripps, his mother, and Tinta?

Jim lay quite still, dully debating that point. Then, as his hands slipped to his side, he heard a metallic click—the sound of his gauntletted hand striking the floor. He wasn't dead, then!

He moved his cramped, bruised and aching limbs. He was alive. That at any rate was certain, and he must do something for his aching head. Very gingerly he put up his arms, and unscrewing the headpiece, let it fall fluttering into the darkness. Ah, that was better!

The next question was to decide where he was. With his hands pressed to his head he tried to remember. Gradually it came back to him. The fight with Ka-Ra in the pilot house. The shock of finding the revolver presented at him butt foremost, and his terror lest the man should pull the trigger. The trick—that of flinging himself down the spiral staircase—by which he had made Ka-Ra believe that the magic weapon had acted.

That was how he had hurt himself, of course. Even that wonderful suit of armour he was wearing had not prevented his being battered about inside like a dried pea in a pod. He was on board the Flying Submarine.

Those facts disentangled he passed to other matters. He must bathe his head, and there was an abundance of water aboard the Flying Submarine. He rose dizzily to his feet, then groped his way through the darkness along the walls. Presently he found the switch that controlled the electric-light. In another moment, he was standing blinking in that glare.

Through the open door of one of the rooms leading out of the corridor he glimpsed a tumbled bath-towel and the edge of the sunken hath on the floor. Stanislaus Cripps, who was incurably untidy, had had a bath that morning when he had been rescued from the sacrificial stone. His old clothes were still lying there.

Jim staggered into the bath-room and turned on the tap. Stripping off his clothes he plunged into the cool water. A few minutes later, with the pain in his head almost gone, he was dressed again.

Where was Ka-Ra, Jim wondered. Perhaps he was still in the pilot-house. Fortunately the bulk of the Flying Submarine was so vast that no sounds from the floor on which he stood could reach the pilot-house.

In his stockinged feet he crept up the spiral stairs listening at every step. Now his head was on a level with the floor. He paused, holding his breath.

Not a sound reached his ears. He took courage at that discovery, and drawing himself up, stepped into the pilot-house. All was darkness. Perhaps the Falta were still waiting outside, but he must risk that, he felt. He found the switch and turned on the electric-light.

The place was just as he had seen it last, except that the chair—which was the one piece of movable furniture in the room—had somehow fluttered on to the white-topped table on which the shadows of the periscope were projected.

He glanced up the circular aperture that led to the deck. For a moment he thought that someone had replaced the great screw cap in position, for all was darkness beyond; but as he climbed the ladder he found that what he had mistaken for the screw cap was a jagged boulder. He tried to move it with his shoulder, but this was impossible.

He reflected on this discovery as he made his way down the ladder again. Obviously, the Falta, tired of holding the Flying Submarine down, had piled boulders on its deck until they had overcome the vessel's buoyancy. He must free the Flying Submarine from those encumbrances. Now he had got possession of it he must hang on to the vessel.

He was thinking of making his way to the kitchen and cooking himself some food, when the sound of five shots, fired in rapid succession, fell on his cars. He stared, and a look of anxiety crept into his face.

Those shots could only have been fired by Stanislaus Cripps, and knowing his companion's aversion to bloodshed, he could only be using the terrible weapon he had invented as some last desperate resource. Stanislaus must be in danger of his life—nothing else could explain that rapid succession of shots!

JIM sprung to the switchboard. But even as his hand moved towards the lever that controlled the air reservoirs he hesitated. If he increased the buoyancy of the Flying Submarine so as to free her from the weight of those rocks too suddenly she might rush to disaster.

The vessel, scattering the rocks from its deck, would tear upwards at an incredible speed. He must act cautiously, otherwise the Flying Submarine might strike a portion of the roof.

He began slowly to move the levers that controlled the air reservoirs, his eyes fixed on the dial which registered the height to which the vessel ascended. The hand of the dial never moved. The increased buoyancy of the Flying Submarine had not yet overcome the weight of the boulders which the Falta had piled about her.

The boy moved the control lever still further; still the dial needle never moved. A fear that something had gone wrong with the mechanism of the machine seized him. In desperation he thrust over the lever to its extreme limit.

Instantly there was a roar like the collapse of a felled mill chimney. Jim felt the Flying Submarine bound upwards, and so sudden and unexpected was that upward lift that he was almost flung from his feet. But he was still holding the lever, and his fingers acting almost automatically, he turned it back to zero point.

For a moment the Flying Submarine hung at a height which the dial registered as 15,000 feet. Then the needle wavered, and the floor beneath him sunk sickeningly as the vessel dropped from that great height to 500 feet in a matter of seconds. At that point he checked her, and the gyrations of the vessel ceased.

Feeling rather sick, Jim turned away from the switchboard and glanced at the white-topped table. The periscope was functioning now, and he had a glimpse of the outer cavern spread below him. Suddenly his heart gave a leap. There, in one corner of the shadowed world outside, was a scene which made the blood turn cold in his veins.

He could see the Falta gathered about the ruins of their great image. There was the sacrificial stone, and on the sacrificial stone lay the figures of Stanislaus Cripps, Tinta, and Masra. One of the giants was holding Stanislaus Cripps down and, gripping his red beard, was menacing him with the glittering blade of a knife.

A CRY of horror left Jim's lips as, gazing through the Flying Submarine's periscope, he saw Stanislaus Cripps' terrible predicament. Then he gave a gasp of relief when he saw the Falta pause just as he was in the act of plunging the knife towards the scientist.

The boy realised in a moment what had caused the executioner to hesitate. Just at the moment when this horrible rite was about to be performed, the Flying Submarine had flung aside that heap of piled up boulders, and the resultant noise had startled the Falta for a moment and distracted their attention.

Jim clearly had no time to lose. He sprang to the switchboard and moved the lever that controlled the engine. He heard the answering hum as the Flying Submarine sprang to life, and the vessel approached the scene of the massacre at an enormous speed. Recalling the mistake he had made once before, Jim stopped the engines, and the Flying Submarine, carried on by its own momentum, began to move at an ever-decreasing pace towards the spot.

The vessel was too high up, he decided. The average height of the Falta was twenty feet, and he must be in a position to drive straight into that press of giants. He let air into the reservoirs until the dial registered the fact that he was only fifteen feet from the ground. Once more he turned his attention to the pictures projected by the periscope. A little sigh of satisfaction escaped from his lips.

Clearly the Falta were panic stricken. The giant who was holding Stanislaus Cripps was looking up stupidly, his knife still suspended in mid-air, as the Flying Submarine—a shining glittering vengeance—bore down on those monstrous figures grouped about the stone.

Another moment and it was among them. Jim felt the vessel gyrate and tremble as it plunged into that press of giant forms. But all his thoughts were concentrated on the giant who had Stanislaus Cripps in his grip.

Steadying the great vessel, he brought it round with a swoop, striking the giant on the back of the neck. What happened to him he could not see, for his tumbling body passed out of the range of the periscope.

Jim darted up the ladder leading to the deck. The huge boulder that had blocked the way previously had been flung aside by the Flying Submarine when making its swift ascent a few minutes before. He gained the deck, and leaned over the rail.

There, just below him, was the figure of Stanislaus Cripps, emerging somewhat dazedly from under the huge form of the fallen Falta. And there, too, were Tinta and Masra. The giants, in a panic-stricken stampede, were racing away from the scene. Jim curved his hands about his mouth.

"Good, boy! Be quick about it, because I want to give these hypertrophied idiots a lesson!"

Jim raced down to the pilot house, and gently lowered the Flying Submarine until she rested like a bubble on the sacrificial stone. Then, running and sliding, he descended three hundred feet to the bottom of the vessel. The next moment he had flung the door open, and was greeting the three figures that came tottering towards him.

It was clear that even Stanislaus Cripps' iron nerves had been shaken, for his voice had lost much of its accustomed boom as he endeavoured to congratulate Jim.

"Just in time, boy. Given up all hopes. Second time I've had that knife at my throat. Ought to have got used to it by now, but haven't."

"Bit unpleasant for all of us, my dear," Stanislaus Cripps broke in. "We've got to hear the boy's story; but that'll have to wait until I've settled my accounts with these big, murderous, bullying brutes. Shut the door, boy. We don't want any of the hypertrophied idiots poking their clumsy fingers into this pie!"

WITHOUT waiting for Jim to carry out this order, he made his way to the foot of the spiral staircase and began to climb slowly upwards. When the others had followed him they found that the Flying Submarine had already risen from the ground, and was moving slowly forward. Stanislaus Cripps was watching the racing shadows on the surface of the white topped table. Following the direction of his gaze, Jim saw that the great vessel was pursuing a little knot of ten Falta.

"Going to give that bunch the surprise of their big, oafish lives!" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed viciously. "Watch, boy!"

Jim watched, with Tinta and Masra gazing in astonishment over his shoulder. With the propeller hardly moving, the Flying Submarine rapidly overhauled the giants. When it was just above them, Stanislaus Cripps allowed enough air to enter the reservoirs to sink the vessel a little. It struck the Falta on their shoulders, hurling them to the ground, and, as they lay there, the Flying Submarine settled down upon them like a piece of thistledown on a flower.

"Only got to fill the reservoirs with air and I'd squash them as flat as pancakes!" Stanislaus Cripps boomed. "But I'm not going to butcher another soul. I'm just going to frighten them!"

And he certainly succeeded in his object. For a while the Falta writhed and struggled, setting up a piteous, twittering scream. Then, as the Flying Submarine continued to hold them pressed to the ground, they seemed to realise that, for all their great strength, they were utterly helpless, and lay still.

Stanislaus Cripps slowly moved the lever that controlled the air reservoirs, and the Flying Submarine rose nearly a foot. The Falta made as if to struggle to their feet; instantly Stanislaus Cripps caused the huge vessel to settle on their backs again. Three or four times he repeated this manoeuvre.

"Boy, I know now exactly how a cat feels when she plays with a mouse," he exclaimed, "but I'm not going to follow the feline instinct for cruelty to its logical end. These fellows have had their lesson, I think. I'm going to speak to them."

He clambered up the ladder to the deck and, leaning over the side, shouted to the cowed giants:

"Are you humbled now, O Falta, or do you wish that I, by my magic, should make you flatter than the fish you eat?"

"We are your slaves, O Hairy One! Never again will we dare to lift our hands against you!"

Jim moved the air control and allowed the Flying Submarine to rise a few feet into the air. He could hear Stanislaus Cripps speaking again to the assembled giants.

The ten giants, moaning and twittering, rose and stood in a dejected line below the vessel.

"I've given you your lives in spite of your treachery. Now you must work to earn that boon. You must hasten and bring hither all the Falta. Those who will not come you must bring by force. Let me see that you are worthy of your lives by the haste you make."

The giants nodded their heads, raising their hands at the same moment. Then, dividing themselves into two parties of five, they dashed in opposite directions. Jim, joining Stanislaus Cripps on deck, saw them searching among the boulders—now dragging from some hiding-place one of the trembling giants, or summoning another from one of the stone houses in which he had taken refuge.

Some were reluctant to come, but when their comrades, laying hold of them, made it clear that they intended Stanislaus Cripps' order to be obeyed, they submitted. In little dejected parties they gathered about the Flying Submarine, which had been lowered once more to the ground.

Stanislaus Cripps made his way down to the bottom of the vessel and, opening the door, stepped out on to the floor of the Outer Cavern. There, looking a very truculent figure with his red beard, he marched slowly down the long line of giants, examining each in turn as if he were an officer inspecting troops.

Right at the end of the line was Gra. In front of him he paused and reached out his hand. Gra bent down and engulfed those fingers, his huge palm almost swallowing up the whole of Stanislaus Cripps' arm.

"Gra," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed, "you're a Falta who knows the value of his word. You can step out. The words I have to say are not for you."

Gra broke ranks and stood leaning against the shining side of the Flying Submarine, while Stanislaus Cripps took his place in the centre of the line.

The giants dropped on their knees like one man and lay grovelling there, uttering their twittering sighs.

"Henceforth, Falta, you are my slaves. But I shall not deal with you directly. Gra here, who is the noblest and most intelligent among you, shall be your leader. Through him shall my will be known. You will swear to obey him!"

As he spoke, Cripps took from the inner pocket of his coat a bundle of papers. Jim, who was standing by his side, saw that they were a bundle of bills, summonses and applications for payment which had rained down upon Stanislaus Cripps at Widgery Dene!

"There, O Gra!" Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed gravely. "There is the secret of my magic, and I give it you. Woe to those who disobey you!"

XXX. — CRIPPS' VOW

WITH just a faint twitching of his lips, indicating his enjoyment of the joke, Stanislaus Cripps turned again to that line of giants.

"As proof that you recognise Gra as your lord and master and my spokesman, O Falta, you will each approach him slowly on your hands and knees, and take the oath to obey him in all things!"

"Got to do this, boy," he muttered in an aside to Jim. "They're only children, and they've got to be impressed by childish tricks!"

One by one those titanic figures—who could have crushed Stanislaus Cripps between one finger and a thumb—crawled obediently to the feet of Gra, and there repeated the oath of allegiance which Stanislaus Cripps invented on the spot.

"Gra is our lord and master! We will obey him in all things. His enemies shall be our enemies. Woe to those who disobey him!"

Each then kissed the packet of papers which Gra obviously looked upon with superstitious awe as possessing some mighty magic.

The performance of this ritual took the better part of three hours, and before it was over Jim was thoroughly tired. But Stanislaus Cripps refused to abate one jot of the ceremony.

"Only way to tame these hypertrophied children, boy. They'll remember this. It will be much easier to deal with them through this good follow, Gra, than directly."

When the last of the giants had sworn the oath and Gra, with great care, had tucked away those papers in the ample folds of hie loin cloth, Stanislaus Cripps turned to his lieutenant.

"Tell them, Gra, to return each to his own hut and to remain there peaceably until you've issued further orders, which I will send you."

"It shall be done, O Hairy One," Gra answered submissively. "Mighty is the magic which you have given me!"

He addressed the Falta, who began to file away to their homes, and Stanislaus Cripps looked at Jim with a comical grimace.

"I wonder what all those thieves of tradesmen and those bullying solicitors would think, boy, if they knew the use to which their impertinent communications had been turned? Let's go aboard again, eat some Christian food, and then sleep."

When the door of the Flying Submarine had closed and the vessel had been raised some thirty feet in the air, they partook of a good meal, Tinta, as on a previous occasion, paying particular attention to the sugar. Afterwards beds were made in two of the innumerable cabins for Tinta and her father, and the little party forgot for some eight hours all the trials and tribulations through which they had passed.

It was over the meal that followed their awakening that Jim related his adventures with Ka-Ra, and listened in turn to a recital of the circumstances in which Stanislaus Cripps and the two Kru had fallen into the hands of the Falta.

"He was a bad man, was that Ka-Ra," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed. "He came to a very unpleasant end, and I hope it was painless, even although he gave me a very bad time. He told me he had killed you, boy, and I confess I wanted to have his blood for that." He regarded Jim with a friendly grin. "Taking you all round, boy, you are one of the most intelligent youngsters I have ever met."

"Now that we're safely on board the Flying Submarine, sir, can't we go home?" he begged.

"Patience, boy! I have set my hand to the plough and I cannot turn back. I have established my authority over the Kru and the Falta, and I've got to justify my position. I've got to establish peace and order in this Buried World. Patience, boy. Patience!"

JIM required all his patience before Stanislaus Cripps was through with his plans of organisation, As he had appointed Gra his deputy among the Falta, so he established Masra in a similar capacity among the Kru. In the latter case, the Kru being the most intelligent people, he set up a sort of council, carefully selected, to assist Masra.

The creation of this social machinery was easy enough. Once it was working satisfactorily, Stanislaus Cripps turned to matters in which he was much more interested.

"There are enormous resources here, boy, and the Buried World is fortunate in possessing a scientist of my eminence at its head. Now we must set about the task of turning those resources to the best advantage."

"That was a very considerable engineering feat of HE's, and showed that he hadn't lived all those years without getting some sense. The pity of it was that he didn't know how to turn it to the best advantage."

"But it provides the Falta with food, sir," Jim remarked, failing to see what other practical purpose it could serve.

"Think of the amount of power that is running to waste, boy. The water is pressing down that drain at thousands of tons per square inch. It is a matter of marvel to me that HE discovered the way of controlling that enormous power. But he did, and I pay him the compliment of stating that it was a great achievement."

"Electric power, boy, that will light the houses I intend to build, and provide the means for heating and cooking. Further, boy, we can use the light so generated for growing corn and raising vegetables.

"The agent of some big wholesale nurseryman once called on me at Widgery Dene, imagining that I was a simple farmer," continued Cripps, "He was so anxious to get orders that I allowed him to send me whatever he suggested. For no reason that I can imagine, except that I didn't want any creditor of mine to seize anything, I stored them on board the Flying Submarine. They will be useful now, boy."

Jim almost forgot his longing for home in his excitement and interest in the work of reconstruction into which Stanislaus Cripps flung himself with such fierce energy.

From the abundant gold deposits—all those yellow vessels used by the Kru and the Falta were found to be made of that precious metal—he constructed an alloy which was as hard and, under an enormous temperature, as malleable as steel. The coal from the Inner Cavern supplied the heat for his furnaces.

Selecting some of the most intelligent Kru, Cripps taught them personally, and then gave them small gangs to work under their instruction. For the heavier work the Falta proved invaluable. To see one of those huge giants pounding at a great mass of molten metal with an enormous hammer was a sight never to be forgotten. Jim was reminded of the old pictures of Vulcan and his Titans.

"A very just observation, boy," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed when Jim mentioned this to him. "And it may be that the whole of that legend was got from some rumour as to the existence of these Falta. Most of the mythological stories, when they are sifted, have a residuum of fact."

With the metal thus provided, Stanislaus Cripps constructed a hydro-electric plant suitable for the enormous pressure of the Great Drain. One thing he lacked was timber, but the metallurgic resources of the Buried World were so enormous that he found he could dispense with this. Poles of glittering gold carried the great arc lamps that he constructed.

The day when the electric light system was first turned on was made a public festival, Stanislaus Cripps, standing on a dais with Jim on his right hand, and Masra and Gra occupying places a little in the rear, addressed the assembled Falta and Kru.

"The first great work has been accomplished," he said in his booming voice. "I have given you the use of a great power. From now onwards you will have light. Today, O people, shall be known hereafter as the Coming of the Great Power; and it will be a day of festival in which you will recall the instructions I have given you, and the words with which I have spoken to you—to work in peace, to toil usefully and intelligently, and to be happy one with another. Look, O my people!"

He touched a switch, and instantly throughout the Buried World two thousand great arc lights sprung out of the blue haze, lighting up the towering sides of that enormous vault.

The effect on the Kru and the Falta was instantaneous. Like one man, they sunk on their faces and, raising their hands, acclaimed the magician who had accomplished this marvellous feat.

"True, I am," he remarked complacently. "It would be foolish to deny it. But our work is not done yet, O people! There is still much that remains."

XXXI. — GOOD NEWS

WITH untiring energy Stanislaus Cripps next set about teaching the Falta to build houses of properly worked stone, the rafters of which he constructed out of his gold alloy. He was very proud of those houses when they were finished.

They stretched in a street of nearly fifty miles—vast buildings not unlike the skyscrapers of New York, but without the numerous windows. They were all lit with electric light, and for several days after they had been installed in these new homes, the Falta, like children, spent most of the time switching the current on and off in order to see the effect.

The hydro-electric plant was not employed merely for lighting the Buried World. He used the power to drive the machines in the spinning and weaving factory he had set up, where the fibre from the giant fungi was transformed into bales of shining cloth which supplied clothing, not only for the Kru, but for the Falta.

He even used the fungi for the production of certain dyes, selecting a special purple coloured one for the use of Masra and Gra, which was forbidden by edict to be used by anybody else.

"Got to establish their authority by every device I can think of," Cripps explained to Jim. "It's trifles like this, boy, that carry such weight with a primitive people!"

Jim nodded, and he cast an admiring look at Cripps. He was still partly dazed at the remarkable metamorphosis that the scientist had effected in the Buried World.

By now perfect harmony reigned between the Falta and the Kru. The ancient feud seemed to have been completely forgotten, and the dwarf Kru were allowed to enter their neighbours' territory without fear of any molestation whatsoever.

At first Stanislaus Cripps had been just a little apprehensive on this score, in view of the Falta's tremendous advantage physically. Their fear of the scientist's so-called magic outweighed everything, however, besides which the giants realised that it was for their own benefit to remain at peace.

And so, for the first time in the history of this wonderful undersea world, a complete understanding existed between these two widely different peoples.

The Kru women were particularly delighted with the new dyed cloth. Some days after the mills had produced their first issue, Jim was seated in the house which Stanislaus Cripps had built for himself, when Tinta entered. Her eyes were glowing, and there was a radiant smile on her face. As always, Jim was only too delighted to see her.

But Tinta, for some extraordinary reason, did not move from the threshold, but stood there with her arms stretched out, her head held very high, and an expectant look in her eyes. For some moments Jim waited for an explanation, and then, as none was forthcoming, again asked her to sit down. A look of disappointment gathered on Tinta's pretty face.

"But what do you expect me to say, Tinta? You don't need me to tell you how glad I am to see you, surely? I did ask you to come and sit down."

"But, Krim, my new clothes! The Hairy One himself chose the colours for me, and it's the first woman's dress that has ever been made in the Place of the Grinding Wheels!"

Jim, who like most boys was unobservant of ladies' clothing, gaped a little awkwardly.

At that Tinta broke down, sinking into a chair and sobbing bitterly. She had thought to impress Jim with the style and beauty of her clothing, and his cool reception of her new garments was bitterly disappointing.

"Oh, Krim, you do not care for me any more! You are no longer my friend!" she sobbed.

"Oh, Tinta, how can you say such a thing?" he asked in surprise. "You know that I like you."

"But you do not take any notice of my beautiful clothes, and I came to show them to you first of all."

"But, Tinta, I don't care a hang about your clothes," protested Jim. "I thought you beautiful that first day I saw you—when you were wearing that old thing of yours. Of course, this is very beautiful, and I suppose it suits you down to the ground. But I shall always think you as I first saw you, that day when I woke up in the Inner Cavern, and you were there with your father."

Stanislaus Cripps came in at that moment, and he inquired the meaning of the tears that still lingered in Tinta's eyes. When Jim explained, a little shamefacedly, what had happened, he burst into a great, booming laugh.

"Boy, you're an uncivilised savage, like all boys of your age! Don't you know you ought to have told Tinta that the dress became her to perfection—that it suited her down to the ground—that she looked a queen? Oh, boy, where were you brought up? I'm ashamed of your manners!"

But at this point Tinta quite irrationally interrupted. The Hairy One had no right to say such things to Krim. Krim was her friend, and she would not allow such things to be said against him!

Stanislaus Cripps listened to Tinta's outburst, then dropped into a chair and made the house ring with his booming voice.

Gradually the marvellous transformation that Stanislaus Cripps had set his hand to effecting in the Buried World was accomplished.

Sections of the Outer Cavern were found to have deposits of soil, and in this wheat—after it had first been subjected to an electric current—was planted. Artificial sunlight from specially constructed lamps provided the necessary light. Vegetables also were planted.

In that warm, sheltered atmosphere, and in the perpetual glow of the artificial sunlight, these experiments in agriculture were crowned with amazing success. It was a great day when the corn was cut, and the first harvest in the Buried World celebrated.

Mills ground the wheat into flour, and the Kru and the Falta tasted bread for the first time. Stanislaus Cripps even managed to obtain some synthetic sugar from the mushrooms, and great was Tinta's delight when she made her first loaf of sweet bread.

Meanwhile, the relations between the Kru and the Falta had been established on a perfectly friendly footing. The old feud was forgotten, and they now shared the abundant harvests of fish that were let into the lake at regular intervals.

Once having tapped the power of the Great Drain, Stanislaus Cripps, armed with that immense energy, was able to accomplish these feats within a period of six months. Labour there was in abundance, and each Falta was able to do the work of forty men. The Kru, too, were quick to learn. Before the end of that six months, Stanislaus Cripps had established a school of instruction, in which both the children and the adults learned.

One evening, when Stanislaus Cripps and Jim were alone in the former's house, the scientist suddenly made a statement which filled the boy's heart with joy.

"All that can be done here, boy, for the present has been done. We have laid the foundations, the Falta and the Kru must finish them, and that will take time. And meanwhile, boy, you are hungering for home."

"Very natural of you to want to see your mother again, boy. But what about Tinta?"

"That's a problem, boy. How do you think she'd fit into a village in England? Better wait and come back in a few years. There's always the Flying Submarine to bring you, you know."

But Jim was dismayed at the thought of leaving Tinta behind. He produced quite a number of ingenious arguments as to why she should come, and ought to come. And Masra, too, of course. But at that Stanislaus Cripps shook his head.

"No, boy, that is the real difficulty. Tinta is too young to leave her father, and I can't possibly take Masra away from here. He is the keystone of the arch I have constructed. He knows exactly what I want done. Masra must remain, and that means that Tinta will have to as well. But you shall come back, boy, and if you want to, you shall be married to her here in style, even if we have to bring a parson all the way from Widgery Dene."

Tinta cried a great deal when Jim broke the news to her and told her what Stanislaus Cripps had said. But when he urged her to leave her father and come with him, she shook her head.

"I cannot leave Masra unless I go to wed you, Krim, and, as the Hairy One says, we are too young. You must go back to the sun for a while, Krim, and then you must return, for I will be waiting for you always."

XXXII. — HOMEWARD BOUND

THE day of departure came at last. The Flying Submarine had been loaded up with gold bars—with which, Stanislaus Cripps declared, he intended to pay his debts—and the final ceremony, in which he gave his parting advice to the Kru and the Falta, took place.

They were all assembled in the Outer Cavern, the Kru forming an inner circle, with the giant forms of the Falta standing with folded arms on the outer rim. Above them blazed the great arc lights that made the blue haze of the Cavern as bright as day.

On a stone dais stood Stanislaus Cripps, attired in his suit of plus fours, which were somewhat ragged and stained now. With energetic gestures he addressed the assembled multitude, telling them generally what he expected of them, and how they were to live in friendship one with another and work for the communal good.

"I go now in the Flying Thing, but I will return again. Let me find everything as it should be when I return. Falta, you will obey Gra in all things—Gra, whom I have invested with my magic. And you, O Kru, will submit yourself to Masra in all things, for I have filled his heart with my wisdom, and the words he will speak to you will be my words. Farewell!"

Without another word he turned, and, followed by Jim, passed through the open door into the interior of the Flying Submarine. There Jim took hold of Tinta's hand.

"I will come back, Tinta," he said, a lump in his throat. "Wait for me, won't you?"

As Tinta stepped back on to the floor of the Outer Cavern, Stanislaus Cripps closed the door. Jim raced up the spiral staircase, and, breathlessly, gained the deck.

There, leaning over the rail, he looked down on the upturned faces of the Kru and the Falta, who were chanting in unison words of farewell to the Hairy One. Tinta was standing on the dais all alone. He could see the beauty of her upturned face, and the tears gathered in his eyes.

The Flying Submarine, her reservoirs depleted of air, was beginning to rise. As she moved, a great cry rose from the assembled multitude below. Jim could hear the twittering cry of the Falta that was so like the screaming of seagulls. But of all the sounds that came up to him, one voice alone he distinguished. It was the voice of Tinta.

Now the speed of the Flying Submarine's ascent was increased enormously. The crowd of Kru and Falta grew smaller and smaller, until at last they were indistinguishable from the boulders that scattered the ground. Only the great arc lights continued to shine in the gathering dusk like stars.

Jim's eyes were focused on that little figure on the stone dais; gradually it faded into insignificance and was gone. With a choking sensation Jim turned and made his way down into the pilot-house.

The shaft of the great tunnel now widened out on either side of them as they ascended. Up and up they went, and so rapid was the vessel's rise that hardly twenty minutes elapsed before the first beam of sunlight struck her shining sides. A few moments more and the great vessel had shot out into the outer world!

There below them lay the sea, and above them was the blue sky. Even in the bitterness of his grief at parting with Tinta, Jim was filled with a curious elation as he looked down upon that world, which at one time he had never expected to see again. As he leaned over the rail on deck, Stanislaus Cripps suddenly gave vent to an exclamation.

"Forgetting my scientific duties, boy, I must get the accurate position of this entrance to the Buried World, otherwise, I may have difficulty in finding it again. We don't want to enter it by the Big Drain any more. Besides, it would play Hull and Halifax with my new hydro electric machinery!"

"Take down the longitude and latitude, boy, and remind me to enter it in my notes. Those notes, when I publish them, will make the British Association sit up and take notice!"

Jim scribbled down the figures he gave him on the back of the envelope. That done they returned to the interior of the vessel.

The screw-cap was lowered into position, and then the Flying Submarine was sent at the extreme limits of her speed in the direction of—home!

FOR that day and the day that followed neither of them spoke much. It was only on the third day, just after they had sighted the coast of France, that Stanislaus Cripps spoke of the future.

"Your mother's got a back yard, boy, hasn't she? Well, we'll moor the Flying Submarine over that yard, and lower the gold by the crane. It will be about two o'clock in the morning when we get there, and, as there's no moon, we ought to be able to do the trick without being noticed. I don't want any police prowling round, asking questions. This discovery of ours has got to remain a secret—boy, remember that—until I've had time to rush my notes through the Press. I want to strike the old white-haired buffers of the Royal Society and the British Association stiff! And that reminds me—what did I do with my notes?"

Then began a frantic search of the Flying Submarine. But nowhere could the notes be found. After two hours of useless effort, Stanislaus Cripps suddenly remembered.

"By the piper that played before Moses! Boy, I remember now that I left them all packed up in the living-room back in the Buried World! Thunder and lightning! We must go back for them at once, boy!"

The thought of returning to the Buried World when he was so near home was too much for Jim, however. He begged and pleaded for at least an hour with his companion.

"All right, boy," Stanislaus Cripps exclaimed at last. "We will carry on and, what's more, I won't bother you to make the return journey with me. Just give me those notes you took for me of the position of the Shaft."

Jim handed over the envelope on which he had pencilled the note Stanislaus Cripps had given him.

"Very careless of me, boy, but thank goodness I have remembered where I left them. Now, as to this gold. There ought to be five hundred thousand pounds' worth there. Half's yours, boy! You'll have to take the lot to a bank, and get them to deal with it. You can put aside my share. And don't forget the diamond I gave you with which to pay your mother's bill. It must be worth twenty thousand pounds at least!"

"Heavens, boy, do you know that we've crossed the Channel and are over England now? We must begin to pick up our bearings."

The engines were stopped, and the Flying Submarine was lowered to within two hundred feet of the ground. Moving with her own momentum and the south-easterly breeze that was blowing, she sped swiftly over the dark landscape below. Suddenly Jim gave a shout.

XXXIII. — RE-UNITED

STANISLAUS CRIPPS steadied the rush of the Flying Submarine by reversing the propeller. Very gently she slid towards Stagmore, and became stationary over the long, tortuous High Street. To locate the backyard of the little shop was somewhat difficult, but by descending to within fifty feet of the ground, they were at last able to make it out.

The anchor was lowered, and, after some manipulation, was fixed in the entrance of an old, disused dog kennel. Jim, all agog with excitement, slipped down the rope to the ground. All about him everything was very still and very dark. Stanislaus Cripps hailed him from the open doorway.

"Don't unload, boy, until I get back to the pilot-house to check her buoyancy; otherwise, when we get rid of that weight, she will shoot up into the air. I'll flash a light through the porthole when I'm ready."

Jim waited impatiently until he saw that signal, and then began to unload the gold bars. When that task was at last accomplished, Stanislaus Cripps reappeared at the open doorway. Jim could see his squat figure, his red, shaggy heard, and his big head silhouetted against the light behind.

"Cast off the anchor, then, boy! I'll see you again in a week's time. Get that stuff to the bank, and translate it into coin of the realm as soon as you can. Good-bye, boy!"

Jim released the anchor from the dog kennel. It was hauled up. Then the door closed, and a moment later the Flying Submarine had swept skywards and was soon lost to sight in the darkness.

Jim waited for a moment, and then crept towards the back door of the house. There was the window of his bed-room, which he could reach by climbing up the scullery roof. A few minutes later he had gained that little apartment.

His heart beat excitedly as he felt the end of the iron bedstead and the bookshelf containing his library. It seemed almost unbelievable that he was back again.

He passed out on to the landing. There was his mother's room—he could see a faint streak of light coming from under the door. Tiptoeing towards it, he turned the handle and opened the door noiselessly.

Now he could see his mother, as he had always seen her in his imagination during his long residence in the Buried World, with her dear, sweet face turned against the pillow. But she looked older, he thought; more wrinkles had gathered about her eyes; and—it might have been a trick of the candle that burned by her bedside—but her hair seemed greyer.

Jim crept towards her side, and, kneeling down, bent over her for a moment. Then his lips touched her cheek.

She was looking at him, but looking at him as if he were not there—as if he were some apparition from another world that knelt at her bedside.

"Jim?" she stammered, and then, with a choking sob, added: "And I've prayed so long that I might go to you, or you might come back to me!"

Jim realised then that his mother really thought he was a phantom come back from the dead.

"It's really me, mother!" he cried, putting his arms round her neck. "It's Jim, come back. I'm alive, mother! And oh, mother dear, you don't know how I've been longing all these months for you!"

THERE was little sleep for either of them the rest of that night. Mrs. Maitland's first care after the wonderful truth dawned upon her that her boy, whom she had mourned for so long as dead, had in truth come back to her, was to go downstairs, relight the still smouldering kitchen fire, and make Jim a cup of cocoa.

While he drank that steaming beverage, he related the story of his amazing adventures since the night when he had set out on his bicycle to collect the money Stanislaus Cripps owed his mother. It was a long story, and many of the details had to be left over for the days that followed.

"I shall never forgive that Mr. Stanislaus Cripps!" his mother exclaimed when he had finished. "Oh, Jim, we searched the country for you. When you didn't come back I went to the police, and then they ransacked Widgery Dene and sent copies of your photo to every station in England. It was bad enough this running away like that owing me money, but I would have forgiven him that if he'd only sent me word that you were safe!"

"Now I'll make him pay that sixteen-and-fivepence-halfpenny, even if I've got to put him through the courts—just to punish him!"

Jim slipped his hand into his pocket, and drew out the diamond that Stanislaus Cripps had picked up from the floor of the Cave of the Fires.

"Mother, he gave me that in settlement, and remember when he gave it me he asked me to see that you were sure to send him a receipt—though what he'd do with such a thing I can't imagine."

"Just like his impudence, Jim, to send me a piece of glass when he owes me for all those goods!"

"It isn't a piece of glass, mother. It's a diamond—and Mr. Cripps thinks it's worth at least twenty thousand pounds!"

His mother refused to believe that—refused to credit, too, that the precious metal stacked in her humble back-yard was really gold. It was not until an astonished bank manager accepted that heap of metal as representing half a million sterling, and a diamond dealer from Hatton Garden in London sent Jim a cheque for eighteen thousand, that she was really convinced, and realised that Jim had not been just repeating a number of fairy tales related to him by the egregious Mr. Stanislaus Cripps.

"We're rich, mother!" exclaimed Jim happily. "You'll never have to work again. You'll be able to leave here and get a nice house and a motor-car. Then, when Tinta and I are married, you'll have to come and live with us!"

Jim could only laugh at that preposterous notion. Tinta worthy of him? Why, it was all the other way! Tinta was as far above him as the sun is above the earth!

"Mr. Cripps should be back in a few days, and then he can tell you all about her. I've promised not to say a word about the Buried World until he's published his book, so you mustn't say anything to the neighbours. I've just been abroad with Mr. Cripps—that's all you need tell them!"

But the week went by and Stanislaus Cripps never returned. The week faded into a fortnight—into a month—into a procession of months.

Often at night Jim would rise from his bed and stare out into the starlit sky, hoping with a great longing to catch a glimpse of the great shining hulk of the Flying Submarine—the one thing that could take him back to Tinta.

Refused, indeed, to move from the little shop and take up his quarters at the big house his mother had purchased, for fear lest Stanislaus Cripps might come in the night, and, not finding him there, go away again.

But even he at last recognised the futility of waiting. What fate had overtaken the Flying Submarine he never knew, but a year went by and Stanislaus Cripps failed to return, and he never heard his booming voice again.

Only in fancy, when Jim sat by the fire, or in the lonely watches of the night, did he hear again that voice—that vibrant "boy"—hear the twittering scream of the Falta—see the azure gloom of the Inner Cavern, and glimpse the dear, sweet, never-to-be-forgotten features of Tinta!

LADBROKE LIONEL DAY BLACK
WRITING AS LIONEL DAY

THE BURIED WORLD

WITH TWO ILLUSTRATIONS FROM THE NELSON LEE LIBRARY SERIAL

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I. — THE SECRET OF WIDGERY DENE