Jim detached the straps that held the wings to his shoulders and

examined them. They were multi-hinged, built of innumerable layers of

laminated wood, which seemed to have been subjected to some special

treatment. In the base of each, just where it fitted to the curve of

the shoulder-blade, a tiny light was burning.

* * * * *

Jim looped the straps about his arms and walked back to the rampart.

Old Parrish saw him and screamed. Lucille cried out.

"I'm going to try to get the Atom Smasher," said Jim, pointing to the

thin spire of violet flame that was still visible in the center of the

causeway. "It's our only chance. You must stay here. If I live, I'll

return. If I don't return--"

But he knew that he must return. Nothing could kill him, because

Lucille would be waiting for him behind that rampart of stones upon

the bare, vitreous mountainside.

"I'm going to get the Atom Smasher," Jim repeated. "In these wings

I'll be taken for Atlantean. I'll--bring it back." He spoke with

faltering conviction. And yet there was nothing else to do. Everything

depended upon his being able to bring back the Atom Smasher and take

Lucille and her father away.

"I think you're right, Jim," answered Lucille. "We'll--wait here till

you--come--back."

Her voice died away in a sob. Jim bent and kissed her. Then he began

examining the mechanism of the wings. It did not appear difficult. A

leather strap fastened around the body. Through this strap ran cords

operated by levers upon the breast, and there was a knob in a groove

that looked as if it controlled the starting of the mechanism.

"I'll be back," said Jim.

And suddenly the Eye appeared again, and with it there sounded once

more the whir of wings.

"Down!" shouted Jim.

* * * * *

He was too late. A score of birdmen shot out of the dark and hovered

over them. Next moment they had descended to the ground. Lucille and

Parrish were seized, and Jim, struggling furiously, quickly found

himself equally helpless in their grasp.

The accents of the Atlanteans as they spoke to one another were soft

and liquid, their faces were refined and gentle, but their strength

was that of athletes. Jim saw Lucille and Parrish lifted into the air;

next moment he himself was raised in the arms of one of the birdmen,

who shot upward like an arrow and headed a course back toward the

city, carrying Jim as if he had been as light as a child.

CHAPTER VI

_Human Sacrifice_

In a great open space, flanked by temples and colonnades, the flight

had come to rest. There, under the soft artificial light that made the

whole city as bright as day, Jim, Lucille, and her father were set

down before a sort of rostrum, on which were gathered the dignitaries

of the city.

Jim's hopes were rising fast, for between the Atlanteans and the

savage Drilgoes there was as much difference as between a modern

American and a blackfellow from the Australian bush. These men were

civilized to a degree that even modern America has not attained.

Nowhere was there a speck of dirt to be seen. Vehicles moved

soundlessly along the wide streets on either side of this central

meeting-place, and the whole city was roofed with glass, through which

could be seen the brilliant moon and stars--invisible from the

mist-filled valley without.

* * * * *

Soft garments of white wool clothed men and women alike, fashioned

something like togas, but cut short at the knee, leaving the lower

part of the leg bare and disclosing the sandaled feet. The hair was

long and flowed about the shoulders. But what struck Jim most forcibly

was the look of utter gentleness and benignity upon these faces.

"I guess we've fallen into pretty good hands after all," he whispered

to Parrish.

But one of the dignitaries upon the platform, an elderly man with a

face reminiscent of William Jennings Bryan in his inspired moments,

was leaning forward out of his curved chair and addressing the old

man, and, to Jim's astonishment, Parrish was answering.

But these were not the liquid accents of the Atlanteans. The words

resembled the barking of a dog, and across Jim's brain there suddenly

flashed the explanation. The dignitary was speaking in the tongue of

the Drilgoes, which Parrish, of course, would have learned in his five

years of captivity.

Suddenly Parrish turned to Jim. "He wants to know where we come from,"

he said. "I've told him from a far country. He thinks we're

ambassadors from some of the parts of Europe that the Atlanteans who

sailed away some years ago landed at. It's no use trying to

explain--they don't seem to have succeeded in inventing an Atom

Smasher for themselves."

Jim nodded, and the colloquy went on and on, while the Atlanteans

listened with languid interest, their kind and smiling faces seeming

to exude benignity. At length the session seemed to have ended.

Parrish wore a wide grin. "Everything's coming right, dear," he told

Lucille. "The old chap says we are to be the guests of the city either

for a night or for a week. It's something to do with the moon, and

there seems to be a full moon to-night. Some quaint superstition or

other. And then I guess we'll have a chance to get away in the Atom

Smasher. I've learned something of the mechanism, and it won't be hard

to operate it. We've fallen into good hands."

* * * * *

A squad of four soldiers or policemen, with shorter robes and what

looked like truncheons in their hands, made signs to the three to

accompany them. Amid mutual bows, the city's guests filled into a

small court-way, closed at the further end, on which a number of

Atlanteans were standing.

While Jim was wondering what the next move was to be, to his

astonishment the whole courtyard began to rise slowly up the walls of

the tall buildings on either side.

"An elevator!" gasped Lucille. "Now I do feel that everything is

coming out all right, Jim, dear."

Jim did not question the psychology of this. He pressed her hand

tenderly. Already Tode and the past were becoming a bad dream.

"Did you say anything about the Atom Smasher, Parrish?" he asked.

"No, I thought it better not to," replied the old scientist. "You see,

they know it only as a force that neutralizes the blue-white ray. Best

not to let them know we're sailing for home in it."

"I think that was wise," answered Jim, and just then the rising

court-way came to a stop level with the top story of the great

building at one side.

Smiling courteously, the guards invited the three to precede them

inside an enormous hall, supported on pillars of gleaming stone

resembling alabaster. In the center was a small, low table, triangular

in shape, with three of the low, curved chairs. The guards invited the

three to be seated.

Almost immediately smiling servitors brought in fruits on platters of

porcelain, dishes of cooked vegetables, somewhat like the modern ones,

but seasoned and flavored with delicious herbs. The staple dish was

something like an oval banana, but infinitely more succulent. The

three fell to and made a hearty meal, which was washed down with fine

wines.

"We've certainly fallen into good hands," said Jim. "All we've got to

do is to lie low, and look pleasant, and it won't be long before we

get an opportunity to get hold of the Atom Smasher."

* * * * *

The guards, seeing that they had finished their meal, smilingly

invited them to accompany them through a huge bronze door at one end

of the hall. It swung back, disclosing complete darkness.

Jim felt Lucille's hand upon his arm. The girl was hesitating, and for

a moment Jim hesitated too, half afraid of a fall into emptiness. Then

he heard the footsteps of the guards ahead, and went on.

It was eery, moving there with the sound of feet in front of them,

and, apart from that, utter silence. Then Lucille uttered a little

cry.

"Jim, do you feel something pushing you?" she asked.

"There is something--" Jim swung around, but some invisible force

continued to propel him forward. He moved sidewise, and the force

gently corrected him. The sound of footsteps had ceased.

"What is it, Jim?" cried the girl. "Help me! Something's got hold of

me!"

Old Parrish was struggling close beside them. Jim panted as he

wrestled with the force, but his efforts were absolutely futile.

Slowly, as if slid on wires, he was propelled forward, until a cushion

of air seemed to block his further progress.

Dark as it was, and silent, Jim had the consciousness of other human

beings about him, of a vast, unseen multitude that was watching him.

Suddenly the droning of a chant began to fill the place, as if a

priest were intoning hymns. As that chant rose and fell, voices all

about took up the echoing refrain. Jim tried to reach Lucille, but he

could move his arm only a few inches against that resilient force

pressing in on all sides of him.

Then, in an instant, a blinding, stabbing light shot through his

eyeballs. He heard Lucille scream, old Parrish yelp, and, with eyelids

screwed tight against the intolerable glare, fought once more

desperately and ineffectively to reach Lucille's side.

* * * * *

Slowly Jim managed to unscrew his eyes. He began to realize that he

was standing in what appeared to be an enormous amphitheatre. But high

up, upon a narrow tongue of flooring that ran like a bridge from one

end to the other, with Lucille on his right and Parrish on his left.

Nothing visible seemed to be restraining them, and yet they were as

securely held as if fastened with tight chains.

Jim's brain reeled as he looked down. Imagine a bridge about half-way

up an amphitheatre of a hundred stories, the ground beneath packed

with human beings no larger than ants, the whole of the vast interior

lined with them, tier above tier, faces and forms increasing from

pismire size below to the dimensions of the human form upon a level,

and, again, fading almost to pin-points at the summit of the vast

building, where the soft glow of the artificial light filtered through

the glass of the roof.

He clutched at the air, felt the soft pressure of the force that was

restraining him, looked at Lucille, and saw her half-unconscious with

fear, leaning against it, leaning against that soft, resilient,

cushionlike, invisible substance; looked at Parrish, whom the shock

had thrown into a sort of semi-catalepsy--Parrish, mouthing and

staring!

He looked forward to where the tongue of flooring ended. Here, upon a

stage, flanked with huge carven figures, a group was gathered. At

first he was unable to discern what was being enacted there, so

brilliant was the light that glared overhead.

It was the Eye, a round disc perhaps ten feet in diameter, that

all-seeing Eye of Atlantis that guarded the great city, but how it

worked Jim was totally unable to discover. He saw, however, that it

was blinking rapidly, the alternations being so swift that it was only

just possible to be conscious of them. Perhaps the Eye was opening and

closing ten times a second.

Jim strained his eyes to see what was taking place on the stage at the

end of the tongue on which he stood. What was it? What were they doing

there? And was that the captured Atom Smasher standing between what

looked like grinning idols? A group of captured Drilgoes near it?

A shrill scream from Lucille echoed through the vast amphitheatre. Her

eye had seen what Jim's had not yet seen--something that had shocked

her into complete unconsciousness.

A marble figure, she stood leaning against the invisible force that

kept her on her feet, and in those open, staring eyes was a look of

ineffable horror.

* * * * *

Jim could see clearly now, for the light from the Eye was slowly

diminishing in brilliancy, or else his own eyes were growing more

accustomed to it. Those carven figures, forming a semi-circle upon the

platform were figures of gods, squat, huge forms seeming to emerge out

of the blocks of rock from which they had been fashioned.

Hideous, gruesome carvings they were, resembling some futuristic

sculpture of to-day, for the artist who had fashioned them had given

hardly more than a hint of the finished representation. It was rather

as if the masses of rock that had been transported there had become

vitalized, foreshadowing the dim yet awful beings that were some day

to emerge from them.

Only the arms were clearly sculptured, and each of the half-dozen

figures squatting upon its haunches in that semi-circle had four of

them. Arms that protruded so as to form an interlacing network, and

the fingers were long claws fashioned of some metal. Over the arms the

shapeless heads beat down with a leering look, and from each mouth

protruded a curved tongue.

A masterpiece of horror, that group, like the great stone figures of

the Aztecs, or some of the hideous Indian gods. Seen under the glare

of the Eye, they formed a background of horrible omen. In a flash it

dawned upon Jim that these hideous figures might be gods of bloody

sacrifice.

"That's why these people seem so gentle," he heard himself saying.

"It's the--the contrast."

He pulled himself together. Again he tried to move towards Lucille,

and again that invisible force restrained him.

Yes, it was the captured Atom Smasher upon the platform, and those

forms grouped in front of the dignitaries were captured Drilgoes, a

dozen or so of them. And the concealed priest was droning a chant

again. Every other sound was hushed, but from each square foot of the

great amphitheatre a pair of eyes was watching.

A myriad of eyes turned upon the platform! What was going to happen

next?

* * * * *

Suddenly the priest's voice died away, and simultaneously the three

dignitaries, who seemed to be officiating priests, from their solemn

gestures, stepped backward, passing beneath the protruding arms of the

idols. There sounded the deep whir of some mechanism somewhere, and

the same invisible force that had Jim and his two companions in its

control suddenly began to agitate the captive Drilgoes.

_It was shuffling them!_ It was forcing them into line, pushing here

and pulling there, in spite of the Drilgoes' terrified struggles. They

writhed and twisted, groaning and clicking in abject terror as they

wrestled with that unseen power, and all in vain. Slowly the foremost

of the Drilgoes was propelled forward, inch by inch, until he stood

immediately beneath the interlacing arms.

And what happened next filled Jim with sick horror and loathing. For

of a sudden the arms began to move, the iron claws cut through the

air--a shriek of terror and anguish broke from the Drilgo's mouth ...

and he was no longer a man, but a clawed and pulped mass of human

flesh!

"Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!" broke from the throats of the assembled multitude.

The weaving arms had stopped. From behind them an attendant was

gathering up what had been the Drilgo in a basket. Then the mechanism

had begun again, and again that shrill cry of the spectators was

ringing in Jim's ears.

Louder still rose the shriek of old Parrish as he understood. Jim put

forth all his strength in a mad effort to break free. A child would

have had more chance in the grip of a giant. And each time the arms of

the gods revolved, the unseen force pushed Jim, Lucille, and Parrish

nearer the platform.

Now Jim understood. This horrible sacrifice was a part of the religion

of the Atlanteans, and he, Lucille, and Parrish, were being reserved

for the final spectacle.

And at the sight of Lucille beside him, stonily unconscious, and yet

standing, and moving like a mechanical doll, in little forward

jerks--at the sight of the girl, hardly six feet distant, and yet

utterly beyond the touch of his finger-tips, Jim went mad. He would

not shout; he closed his lips in pride of race, pride of that

civilization that he had left twelve thousand years ahead of him. Not

like the shrieking Drilgoes on the platform, howling as each of them

in turn was forced into that maze of revolving knives. But he fought

as a madman fights. He hammered at the resilient air, while the sweat

ran down his face, he braced his feet upon the wooden tongue, and

sought to stay his forward progress. And all the while that infernal

force moved him steadily onward.

* * * * *

He was on the platform now. He was traveling the same route that the

Drilgoes had taken. The unseen force was shuffling him, Lucille, and

Parrish, pushing and pulling them. And, despite Jim's efforts, it was

Lucille who was first of the three ... and Jim second ... and old

Parrish third....

Jim heard Parrish's hoarse whisper behind him, "Death! Death! The

uranium!" He was fumbling at his breast, but the significance of the

words and gestures escaped him. He was staring ahead. Only three

living Drilgoes of the whole number of prisoners remained alive, and

suddenly it was borne in upon Jim that he knew the last of the three.

It was the Drilgo, Cain, who had been their companion in the Atom

Smasher--there, not a dozen feet distant. Cain, his bestial face, with

the ridged eyebrows and great jaws convulsed with terror and dripping

sweat. Cain, immediately in front of Lucille.

"God, let her not wake! Let her never know!" Jim breathed. The agony

would be but momentary. And there was nothing a man could not endure

if he must. He could even endure to see Lucille become--what the

Drilgoes had become. It would soon be over now.

The Eye was blinking overhead. The hideous stone faces of the

Atlantean gods looked down in leering mockery. Another of the Drilgoes

had gone the same route as the others. Cain was the second now,

Lucille the third victim, and he, Jim, would be the fourth.

Gritting his teeth, Jim saw the next Drilgo propelled forward into the

whirling knives. He saw the man fling up his arms, as if to shield his

head--and then he was a man no longer, and the horrible knives

revolved, and "Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!" cried the multitude.

Once more the mechanism whirred.... Once more the arms revolved. A

howl of terror broke from Cain's lips as he was propelled onward....

Then suddenly the whirring stopped. The arms of the stone gods, with

their hooked, razorlike claws, to which clung particles of flesh, were

arrested in mid-air. Cain, unharmed, was leaning backward, his

features set in a mask of awful fear.

Simultaneously Jim knew that the force which had held him in thrall

was gone. He flung his arms out. He was free. He grasped Lucille, held

her tightly against his breast, stood there drawing great, labored

breaths, waiting--for what?

* * * * *

A film was creeping over his eyes, but he was aware that the Eye had

suddenly gone out. And out of the dark the priest was chanting.

Then came a deep-drawn sigh from the spectators, followed by a ringing

shout. In place of the Eye the full moon appeared, sailing overhead.

And, holding off that deathly weakness, Jim understood. The sacrifice

had ended; a new month had begun....

CHAPTER VII

_Back to Long Island_

Jim, seated beside Lucille, was listening to Cain's gruntings and

chucklings as he expounded the situation to old Parrish.

It was the day following the scene in the amphitheatre. The four had

been escorted back along the tongue of flooring into a hall with walls

of fretted stone and sumptuous colorings. The floor was strewn with

rich rugs woven of some vegetable fibre. There were divans and low

chairs. At brief intervals, servitors, always smiling, passed carrying

trays with wines and foods. And in the corridors were always glimpses

of the guards.

"It was the rising of the full moon saved our lives, Dent," Parrish

explained. "It appears they have this sacrifice at each of the moon's

phases. The victims, captives or criminals, are eaten by the priests.

We've got a week's respite, Dent, and then--God help us."

Jim's arm tightened about Lucille, but the girl turned and smiled into

his face. There was no longer any fear there. And Jim swore to himself

that he would yet find some way of outwitting their devilish captors.

"What the devil are we supposed to be, criminals or what?" he asked

her father. "Why do they smile at us all the time in that confounded

way?"

Parrish questioned the Drilgo, but apparently he was unable to explain

himself to him. "Maybe they think it an honor for us, Dent," he

answered, "or maybe it's their idea of etiquette. Anyway, we four are

to head the list when the moon's at the three-quarters. God, if only

we could reach the Atom Smasher, I'm certain I could find out how it

works!"

* * * * *

Jim had tried more than once to reach it. Through the colonnades at

the end of the hall he could see the mechanism standing on the

platform, always being inspected by half a dozen or so of the

dignitaries of Atlantis. But all his attempts to cross that tongue of

flooring had been vetoed by the guards.

They had presented their hands to him, palms outward, and on the palms

were fine steel points, about two inches long, set into leather

gauntlets. It had been impossible to try conclusions with them.

Two days went by. Once a group of dignitaries had entered the hall

and, with smiles and profuse bows, inspected the prisoners. Then they

had departed. And Jim had paced the floor, to and fro, thinking

desperately.

There was no sort of weapon with which to hazard an attack. Jim knew

that they were under the closest observation. He could only wait and

hope. And if all else failed, he meant to hurl himself, with Lucille

in his arms, off the tongue of floor into the depths below when their

time came.

On the third morning, after a troubled sleep induced by very

weariness, Jim was awakened by one of the guards, and started up to

see one of the bowing dignitaries before him, and Parrish and Lucille

sitting up among their rugs.

Bowing repeatedly, the smiling old man addressed some words to Jim,

and then turned to Parrish.

"He says he wants you to show him the way the Atom Smasher works,"

said Parrish. "Now's our chance, Dent. He thinks it's simply an

apparatus for neutralizing the blue-white ray. Don't let him guess--"

"I won't let him guess," Jim answered. "Tell him we'll go and show

him--"

"I've told him, and he says only you are to go. He's suspicious. Say

something quickly, Dent."

"Tell him," said Jim, "that I must have my two assistants and the

lady. Tell him I may also need the help of some of his people. It

requires many men to operate the machine."

* * * * *

Parrish translated, speaking in the Drilgo tongue, which was their

only means of communication. The Atlantean considered. Then he spoke

again.

"He says that we three men may go, but Lucille must be left behind,"

groaned Parrish.

"The answer is no," said Jim.

The old dignitary, who seemed somewhat crestfallen, departed with an

expressive gesture. Jim and Parrish looked at each other.

"That's our end," groaned Parrish.

"No, he'll bite," answered Jim, with the first grin that had appeared

on his countenance since their arrival. "Let's make our plans quickly.

We must contrive to get Lucille inside the machine, under the pretense

of assisting with the mechanism. And Cain, of course," he added,

glancing at the goggly-eyed Drilgo. "You do your best to locate the

starting mechanism, Parrish, and signal me the moment you're ready.

We'll both leap in, and the four of us will sail--God, I don't care

where we sail to, so long as we get away from here! Into eternity, if

need be. But I hope it's Long Island!"

Back came the dignitary with two of the guards. Smiling at Jim, he

indicated by signs that the three others might accompany him. The

Atlanteans had bitten, as Jim had forecast.

The four proceeded along the hall and over the tongue of flooring.

This time the force that had previously controlled their movements was

not in action. At the farther end of the bridge they saw the group of

dignitaries gathered about the Atom Smasher, examining it curiously.

Over their heads the hooked arms of the hideous gods were raised. The

Eye was darkened, as if with a curtain, and through the glass roof,

high overhead, the sunlight streamed down upon the empty amphitheatre.

* * * * *

In spite of their smiles, the dignitaries of Atlantis were very much

on the alert, as their tense attitudes denoted. Two more guards had

appeared, and Jim saw that they were uncovering some apparatus at the

base of the Eye. They were swinging a camera-like object toward him,

its lens focused upon the Atom Smasher. It was not difficult to

understand what was in the minds of the Atlanteans. The dignitaries

were uneasy and mistrustful, and at the first suspicion of treachery

they meant to loose the blue-white Ray contained in the apparatus, and

blow the Atom Smasher and the group about it to destruction.

Jim intercepted a sign from Parrish, indicating that he was to make

pretense of assisting him. He bent over the machine, Lucille beside

him. Parrish was busily examining the wheels and levers. He was

adjusting the thumbscrews, moving the needles along the dials.

One of the Atlanteans spoke, and Cain translated into "Drilgo" for

Parrish's benefit. Parrish answered. Then, without raising his head,

the old man said quietly, "I've located the starting lever, Dent. You

and Lucille get inside quickly and pretend you're doing something to

the machinery."

They stepped over the bow of the boat and stood beside Parrish, who

continued examining the wheels. "We mustn't forget Cain," whispered

the girl to her father. "Oh, I hope he understands!"

But there was no direct evidence that Cain did understand, and Parrish

dared not warn him in "Drilgo," for fear one of the Atlanteans might

understand the language. Cain was standing close beside the boat. But

he was not in the boat.

Again one of the Atlanteans shot a question at Parrish. Parrish

beckoned to Cain, and awaited the translation. He answered.

Each moment was growing tenser. It was impossible that the Atlanteans

could fail to understand what was being planned. The only saving

chance was that they did not realize the possibilities of escape that

the vessel offered. A full minute went by.

* * * * *

Suddenly Parrish raised his head. "I've got it fixed, I think, Dent,"

he said. "I'm going to count. When I reach 'three,' seize Cain and

pull him aboard."

Jim nodded. The uneasiness was increasing. The guards at the

camera-like object were each holding some sort of mechanical accessory

in their hands. It looked like a small sphere of glass, and it

connected with the apparatus by means of a hollow tube of fibre. Jim

guessed that in an instant the Ray could be made to dart out of the

lens. It would be quick work--as nearly as possible instantaneous

work.

"Ready, Dent?" asked Parrish in an even voice. In this crisis the old

man had become astonishingly calm. He seemed the calmest of the lot.

"One!"

Jim beckoned to Cain, who came toward him, his eyes goggling in

inquiry.

"Two!"

Jim reached out and took Cain by the arm. There was a sharp question

from the Atlantean who had spoken before.

"Three!"

With all his force Jim yanked Cain over the edge of the boat. The

Drilgo stumbled and fell headlong with a howl of terror. But

headlong--inside.

What happened was practically instantaneous. A sudden whir of the

mechanism, a violet glow from the funnel, the smell of chlorine--a

flash of blinding blue-white light. The Atlantean guards had fired--a

quarter-second too late!

The thump, thump of the electrical discharge died away. The four were

in the boat, whirling away through space. Cain was rising to his

knees, a woe-begone expression on his face. And there was a clean cut,

with charred, black edges along one side of the boat, showing how near

the Atlanteans had come to success.

* * * * *

The relief, after the hideous suspense of the past days, was almost

too much for the three white people. "We're free, we're going back

home!" cried Jim exultantly, as he caught Lucille in his arms. And she

surrendered her lips to his, while the tears streamed down her checks.

Old Parrish, at the instrument board, looked up, smiling and

chuckling. Even Cain, understanding that they were not to be hacked to

bits with knives, gurgled and grinned all over his black face.

"How long will it take us to get back?" Jim asked Parrish after a

while.

"I--I'm not quite sure, my boy," the old man replied. "You see--I

haven't quite familiarized myself with the machine as yet."

"But we'll get back all right?" asked Jim.

"Well, we--we're headed in the right direction," answered Parrish.

"You see, my boy, it's rather an intricate table of logarithmic

calculations that that scoundrel has pasted on this board. The great

danger appears to be that of coming within the orbit of the giant

planet Jupiter. Of course, I'm trying to keep within the orbit of the

Earth, but there is a danger of being deflected onto Pallas, Ceres, or

one of the smaller asteroids, and finding ourselves upon a rock in

space."

Jim and Lucille looked at Parrish in consternation. "But you don't

have to leave the Earth, do you?" Jim asked.

"Unfortunately, it's pretty hard sticking to the Earth, my lad," said

Parrish. "You see, Earth has moved a good many million miles through

space since the time of Atlantis."

But both Jim and Lucille noticed that Parrish was already speaking of

Atlantis as if it was in the past. They drew a hopeful augury from

that. And then there was nothing to do but resign themselves to that

universal greyness--and to hope.

* * * * *

They noticed that Cain seemed to be watching Parrish's movements with

unusual interest. The Neanderthal man seemed fascinated by the play of

the dials, the whir of the wheels and gyroscopes.

"Are you setting a course, dad?" asked Lucille presently. "I mean, do

you know just where we are?"

"To tell you the truth, my dear," answered her father, "I don't. I'm

relying on some markings that Tode made on the chart--certain

combinations of figures. God only knows where they'll take us to. But

I'm hoping that by following them we shall find ourselves back on Long

Island in the year 1930.

"No, that rascal could hardly have written down those figures to no

purpose. They seem to me to comprise a course, both going and

returning. But the calculations are very intricate, especially in the

_time_ dimension. I've nearly reached the last row now. Then, we shall

have arrived, or--we sha'n't."

Jim and Lucille sat down again. There was nothing that they could do.

But somehow their hopes of reaching Long Island in the year of grace

1930 had grown exceedingly slim. Everything depended upon whether or

not Tode had meant those figures to represent the course back to the

starting point or not.

A desperate hope--that was all that remained to them. They watched

Parrish as his eyes wandered along the rows of figures, while his

fingers moved the micrometer screws. And then he looked up.

"We're reaching the end of our course," he said. "We're going to land

somewhere. God knows where it will be. We must hope--that's all that's

left us."

His hands dropped from the dials. He pressed a lever. The blur of

nights and days began to slow. A column of vivid violet light shot

from the funnel.

"Grip tight!" shouted Parrish.

Thump, thump! The Atom Smasher was vibrating violently. A jar threw

Jim against Lucille. It was coming to a standstill. Trees appeared.

Jim uttered a shout. He stepped across to Parrish and wrung his hand.

He put his arms about Lucille and kissed her.

They were back at the Vanishing Place, and all their sufferings seemed

to be of the past....

CHAPTER VIII

_A Fruitless Journey_

"Why don't you stop the boat, Parrish?"

"I'm trying to, lad!"

The Atom Smasher was still vibrating, even more violently than before.

A column of violet light was pouring from her funnel. The pool, the

mud, the walls of heaped up water were discernible, but all quivering

and reproduced, line after line, to infinity. It was like looking into

the rear-view mirror of a car that is vibrating rapidly. It was like

one of those Cubist paintings of a woman descending the stairs, where

one had to puzzle out which is the woman and which is the stairs.

A dreadful thought shot through Jim's mind. He remembered what he had

said to Tode: "You can't hold the boat still in four-dimensional

space."

This was not quite the same. By stopping the infernal mechanism, one

re-entered three-dimensional space, and landed. Certainly the Atom

Smasher could land. They were not like the motorcyclist who got on a

machine for the first time, and rode to the admiration of all who saw

him, except that he couldn't find out how to stop.

Yet there was Parrish still fumbling with the controls, and the boat

was still vibrating at a terrific rate of speed. It is impossible to

dream of leaping out, for there was no solidity, no continuity in the

scenery outside.

It was not like attempting to leap from a moving train, for instance.

In that case one knows that there is solid earth beneath, however hard

one lands. Here everything was distorted, a sort of mirror reflection.

And Jim noticed a strange thing that had never occurred to him before.

Everything was reversed, as in a mirror picture. That clump of trees,

for instance, which should have been on the right, was on the left.

Parrish looked up. "There's some means of stopping her, of course," he

said. "There must be a lever--but I don't know where to look for it in

all this mess." He pointed to the revolving wheels. No, it might be a

matter of days of experimenting in order to discover the elusive

switch.

"It may be a combination of switches," said Parrish. "I don't know

what we're going to do."

"Suppose I jumped and chanced it," Jim suggested.

Lucille caught his arm with a little cry. Parrish shook his head.

"That devil--Listen: there was a Drilgo he disliked. He threw him out

of the boat just before she landed at the cave. Everything was in

plain sight, plainer than things are here. But he was never seen

again. For God's sake, lad, sit still. I'll try--"

* * * * *

Hours later Parrish was still trying. And gradually Jim and Lucille

had ceased to hope.

Side by side they had sat, watching that glimmering scene about them.

Sometimes everything receded into a blur, across which sunlight and

shadow, and then moonlight raced, at others the surroundings were so

clear that it almost seemed as if, by steadying the boat, they could

leap ashore. And once there happened something that sent a thrill of

cold fear through both of them.

For where the pool had been there appeared suddenly a hut--and Tode,

standing in the doorway, looking about him, a malicious sneer curving

his lips.

Jim leaped to his feet, and old Parrish, who had seen Tode too, sprang

up in wild excitement.

"Sit down, lad," he shouted. "It's nothing. I--I turned the micrometer

screw a trifle hard. I got us back to five years ago, when we were

living here with Tode. That's just a picture--out of the past, Jim!"

Jim understood, but he sank down again with cold sweat bathing his

forehead. The terrific powers of the Atom Smasher were unveiling

themselves more and more each moment. Jim felt Lucille's hand on his

arm. He looked into her face.

"Jim, darling, what's going to happen to us if dad can't find how to

work the machine?"

"I don't know, dear. I've thought that we might all jump out and

chance it. If we held each other tight, we'd probably land in the same

place--"

* * * * *

Old Parrish stood up. "I can't work it, Jim," he said. "Tode's got us

beat. There's only one thing for us to do. You can guess what it is."

"I think I can," said Jim, glancing askance at Lucille. Yes, he knew,

but he lacked the heart to tell her. "If we were all to jump out,

tied together--don't you think we might land--somewhere near where we

want to land?" he asked.

"Jim, do you realize what each vibration of this boat means?" asked

Parrish. "There's a table on the instrument-board. It's a wave length

of four thousand miles in space and nineteen years in time."

"You mean we're moving to London or San Francisco and back--"

"Further than that, every infinite fraction of a second," answered

Parrish. "No, Jim, we--we wouldn't land. So we must just go back to

where we came from, and--"

He had been speaking in a low voice, calculated not to reach Lucille's

ears. The girl had been leaning back, her eyes closed, as if half

asleep. Now she rose and stepped up to her father and lover. "You can

tell me the truth," she said. "I'm not afraid."

"We've got to go back, Lucille," answered her father. "It's our only

chance. By following the course in reverse we can expect to make

Atlantis again--"

"Back to that horrible place?"

"No, my dear. The chart will lead us, obviously, back to the cave

where Tode has his headquarters. We must try to surprise him, and

force him to bring us back to Long Island."

"And then?" asked Lucille.

Parrish shrugged his shoulders. "We'll face that problem when we come

to it," he answered.

"But how do you expect to be able to land at the other end any more

than this?" asked Jim. "Suppose the machine continues to vibrate

instead of coming to a standstill?"

"I think," said Parrish, "that we'll be able to strike a bargain with

Tode. Obviously he will be willing to bring the machine to a

standstill in order to parley with us. We'll make terms--the best we

can. After all, he can't afford to remain marooned on the isle of

Atlantis without the Atom Smasher."

"I hate the idea of bargaining with that wretch," said Lucille.

"So do we all, dear," answered Jim. "But there's nothing else that we

can do. It's just a matter of give and take. And I'd be glad to

consent to any terms that would bring us three safe back to earth,

with all this business behind us."

"I'll start back, then," said Parrish, turning back to the instrument

board.

And, to the familiar thump, thump of the electrical discharge, the

Atom Smasher took up its backward journey once more.

* * * * *

A long time passed. With her head resting against Jim's breast,

Lucille rested. Jim bent over her, trying to discover whether she was

asleep or not. Her eyes were closed, her breathing so soft that she

hardly seemed alive. An infinite pity for the girl filled Jim's heart,

and, mingled with it, the intense determination to overcome the madman

who had subjected her to these perils. He glanced across at Parrish,

fingering his screws. Old Parrish looked up and nodded. There was a

new determination in the old man's face that made him a different

person from the crazed old man whom Jim had encountered at the

Vanishing Place.

"We can beat him, Parrish!" Jim called, and Parrish looked back and

nodded again. "We're nearly back to the top of the column," he

answered.

Not long afterward Parrish looked up once more. "Stand by, Jim!" he

called. "And be ready. Tode will be aware of our approach by means of

the sensitive instruments he keeps in his laboratory. But don't harm

him. We want him aboard, and we want him badly. He won't be able to

play any more tricks with us. I've learned too much about the Atom

Smasher."

He pressed a lever, and the greyness dissolved into its component

parts of light and darkness. A jar. Thump, thump! The violet light!

Lucille looked up, raised herself, uttered a low cry and caught at

Jim's arm, trembling.

They had run their course truly. The Atom Smasher was vibrating

outside the entrance to Tode's cave. And that was Tode, standing

there, watching them, that devilish grin of his accentuated to the

utmost. A blurred figure that appeared and vanished, and a surrounding

crowd of Drilgoes--how many it was impossible to guess, for they

looked like a crowd of apes in motion.

Suddenly Tode disappeared, and a moment later Lucille uttered a

terrified cry as his voice spoke in her ear:

"I thought you'd be back. I knew you'd got away from Atlantis when my

recorder showed the waves of electrical energy proceeding from the

city. You were clever, Dent, but you see, you had to come back to me

to get my help."

"Don't be afraid, dear," said Jim, trying to soothe the girl. "That's

a wireless receiving apparatus." He pointed to a sort of cabinet

enclosed among the rotating wheels, and then it was evident that

Tode's voice was proceeding from it.

* * * * *

Tode's figure appeared again, dancing through a haze of lines and

patches. He was holding something in his hand which Jim made out to be

the mouthpiece of a microphone. The voice inside the Atom Smasher

spoke again:

"Turn all the micrometer screws until the needles register zero,

Parrish. Then turn Dial D to point 3, Dial C to 5, Dial B to 1, and

Dial A to 2. I'll repeat.... Now press the starting lever, Parrish,

and you'll find yourself on firm ground again."

A few moments later the Atom Smasher was pouring out an immense column

of the violet light, and slowly the vibration ceased. The blurred

forms of Tode, of the Drilgoes grew clear. They had arrived.

Tode stepped over the rail. "And now, my friends, we'll have a talk,"

he said.

"No tricks, Tode," Jim warned him, "You've probably got a number of

deviltries up your sleeve--"

"One or two, Dent," grinned Tode.

"We're willing to negotiate."

"Of course you are. You see, I hold the trumps, Dent. Those dial

deflections, which are inevitable in the construction of any piece of

mechanism, are not the same for Earth in 1920. Don't think you can use

the same figures to land with. You must remember that there has been a

precession of the equinoxes since the time of Atlantis, with a

consequent shift in the earth's axis. No, Dent, I've got you very much

where I want you. But I'm willing to discuss terms with you. First of

all, let's get rid of this useless cargo. I don't believe in

overburdening a ship," he grinned.

He picked up Cain bodily and heaved the astonished Drilgo over the

side before he knew what was happening to him. Cain picked himself up

and rubbed his sides, whimpering mournfully. The Drilgoes crowded

closer, their faces agape with astonishment. Tode spoke a command

sharply, and they scattered.

* * * * *

"Before we come to terms, Dent, I'll give you a piece of news that may

interest you," said Tode. "Much has happened during the time you've

been away. Ambassadors have been out to see me from Atlantis. With the

aid of a Drilgo interpreter, they conveyed to me that they had been

greatly impressed by the disappearance of the Atom Smasher. They have

nothing like it, of course, and they think I'm a Number One magician.

"The upshot is, they want me to accept the supreme rule of the city,

and use my arts to restore the lost territory that has sunk beneath

the waves. They swore on an image of their god, Cruk, that they were

sincere. I told them that I'd sent the Atom Smasher away on a journey,

but that it would be back shortly, and that I'd then give them their

answer.

"Now, Dent"--Tode's face took on that look of fanaticism that Jim had

seen on it before--"I'm going to repeat the proposition I made to you

before. Join me. I'll make you my chief subordinate, and I'll load you

and Parrish down with honors. Everything that a human being can desire

shall be yours. And in a year or two, when we're tired of being gods,

we'll take the Atom Smasher back to Earth and destroy it, and with our

wealth we'll become the supreme rulers of Earth too. I need you, Dent.

You don't realize how lonely life can be when one is worshiped as a

god. As for Lucille, there are a thousand maidens more beautiful than

she is, in Atlantis. Come, Dent, your answer! Your last chance, Dent!

Don't throw it away!"

He read the answer before Jim could speak it. Jim saw Tode's face

flicker, and hurled himself upon him. Lucille screamed. The two men

wrestled together in the narrow confines of the circular boat. Jim

struck Tode a blow that sent him reeling against the rail. Then he

felt himself seized from behind. A giant Drilgo had him in his arms.

He lifted him over the side and flung him to the earth. In an instant

the chattering Drilgoes were crowding down upon him.

Struggling madly, Jim saw Tode fell old Parrish with a blow, push back

Lucille as she sprang at him, and quickly press the starting lever.

The column of violet fire faded, there came the whir of the

mechanism--the Atom Smasher vanished....

CHAPTER IX

_The Blinded Eye_

Jim fought with all his strength; he managed to shake off his

assailants and regain his feet. Then one of the Drilgoes poised his

stone-tipped spear, ready to hurl it through his body.

But the spear never left the Drilgo's hand in Jim's direction. Like a

great black ape, Cain leaped upon the fellow and bore him to the

ground, his feet twined around his shoulders, his hands gripping his

throat. Not until the Drilgo had been reduced to a heaving,

half-strangled hulk did Cain leave him.

Then Cain, bending until his stomach almost touched the ground, came

worming toward Jim, making signs of obeisance.

What had happened that Jim had won the Drilgo's faith? Why did Cain

now look upon him, apparently, as his master? It was impossible to

gauge the processes of the black man's mind, and at the moment Jim was

in no mood to wonder. The stunning disaster that had overtaken him

monopolized his thoughts.

Lucille and Parrish were once more in Tode's power. That was the

dominating fact. The only gleam of comfort in the situation was that

Tode had given him the clue to his movements.

Beyond a doubt Tode had taken his captives into Atlantis with him. It

was impossible to disbelieve Tode's statement that he had been offered

the supreme power in the city. Tode's egotism would have compelled him

to blurt out that fact. Besides, Tode had certainly not gone back to

earth.

Jim must force his way into Atlantis. He would find and rescue the two

prisoners or die there.

He turned away from the groveling Cain and the chattering Drilgoes,

who, inspired by Cain's example, now seemed animated by the same

instinct to obey him, and went into the cave. But at the entrance he

turned for a moment and looked back.

* * * * *

It was night. The valley was swathed in mists, the volcano opposite

was spouting a shaft of lurid fire. On the water was a path of

moonlight, where the clouds had been dispersed by the Atlanteans. Jim

took in the scene, he raised one arm and shook his fist. Then, without

a word, he passed inside.

There was a soft light in the cave, streaming out from an inner

chamber, access to which was through a narrow orifice in the rock.

Jim passed through, and found himself in Tode's laboratory.

He was astonished at its completeness, still more so at the existence

of numerous pieces of apparatus whose purpose it was difficult to

understand. There was a radio transmitter and receiver, but improved

out of all recognition from those in use in the prosaic year 1930.

Three or four tiny dynamos, little more than toys in appearance, were

generating as much voltage, from the indicators, as a modern power

station. And overhead was a dial, with two series of figures in black

and red, and two needles, both of which were swinging briskly,

indicating that there was an intense electrical disturbance in the

vicinity.

The Atom Smasher! Jim took heart. Tode could not be far away! He

looked about him, subconsciously trying to discover some implement

that would prove of service to him, but there was nothing that he

could see, not even one of the ray tubes. He looked about uneasily.

Then his eyes fell upon something so singularly out of place that it

looked, for the moment, like some pre-historic weapon. It was the last

thing Jim would have expected to find there--nothing more nor less

than a sporting rifle!

Deer shooting had been one of Tode's pastimes in the old days, and

more than one fat buck had been surreptitiously shot for the benefit

of the larder at the Vanishing Place. There was something almost

pathetic in the sight of that rifle and the fifty cartridges in their

cardboard carton. Perhaps Tode had pictured himself shooting big game

in Atlantis at some period or other. It was a human weakness that for

an instant lessened Jim's hate and horror of the man. It brought him

to a saner view of the situation. Jim had been on the point of losing

his powers of reason. The sight of the rifle restored them.

* * * * *

He turned sharply as he heard a sound in the entrance. Cain was coming

toward him, with many genuflexions, and much stomach wriggling. He

stopped, straightened himself. There was a look of singular

intelligence on the Drilgo's face.

He began chattering, pointing in the direction of Atlantis. Jim could

make nothing of what he was trying to convey.

"Yes, they're there," he said bitterly, "but I don't see how that's

going to help me."

"Oh my poor Lucille!" said Cain unexpectedly.

The words were like a parrot's speech, the intonation so remarkable a

copy of old Parrish's that Jim was flabbergasted. Nevertheless it was

evident that Cain knew he was referring to Lucille.

With a strange, slinking motion he crossed the laboratory and bent

beneath a huge slab of stone, resting on two great hewn rocks. He

emerged, holding in his arms two curious contrivances. He laid them at

Jim's feet.

Jim stared at them, and suddenly understood what they were. They were

two pairs of wings, of the kind the Atlanteans had used when they made

their aerial sortie against the Drilgoes.

Cain picked up one pair and began adjusting it about his body. He made

fluttering movements with his arms.

"You mean that you've learned how to fly, you black imp of Satan?"

shouted Jim.

And Cain, as if understanding, nodded and beamed all over his black

face.

With that Jim's idea was born. If the Drilgoes would follow him, he

would lead them against Atlantis. And, before the assault began, he

would fly to the great Eye that guarded it, and blind it.

* * * * *

He thought afterward that it was like a supernatural revelation, this

scheme, that leaped full-fledged into his brain. And Cain had

developed extraordinary executive ability. Outside the cave, through

rifts in the swirls of fog, Jim could see innumerable Drilgoes massing

in the valley, as if they understood Jim's purpose. From Cain's

gesticulations, and the number of times he rubbed his stomach, it was

evident that he counted upon sacking Atlantis and was imagining

innumerable meals of fat captives.

Each flash of lurid light from the volcano disclosed further masses of

Drilgoes, armed with their stone spears, apparently assembling for the

attack. Whether Tode had summoned them before the Atlanteans offered

him the rulership of the city, or whether Jim's own plan had been

communicated to them by some telepathic process, it was impossible to

guess, but there was not the least doubt but that they were prepared

to follow him.

Cain nudged Jim and began strapping the other pair of wings about his

body. Jim saw that the energy was supplied by two tiny, lights burning

in the base, cold fire, stored energy whose strength he did not guess.

For, when Cain took him by the hand, and motioned to him to slide the

knob in the groove, he was hurled skyward like a rocket.

There followed a delirious hour. Tossing and tumbling like a pigeon in

a gale, Jim by degrees acquired mastery over the apparatus. At the end

of the hour he could fly almost as well as Cain, who, like a black

guardian angel kept beside him, reaching out a hand when he

overbalanced, and pulling him out of aerial side-slips.

* * * * *

Suddenly Cain motioned toward the volcano, and started toward it in a

rocketlike swoop. Jim understood. The Drilgoes were ready for the

attack upon Atlantis.

Jim dropped to earth, ran back into the cave, and picked up the rifle

and the carton of ammunition. He filled the magazine, and, with the

rifle on his arm, rose into the air again. Cain was circling back,

uttering weird cries of distress at finding his master absent.

"It's all right, Cain," said Jim. "I'm here."

Side by side they flew steadily toward the base of the great cone,

which was pouring out a fan-shaped stream of fire. Rumblings shook the

earth; it was evident that another upheaval was in course of

preparation. The long column of the Drilgoes could be seen, extending

around the flank of the mountain.

Then of a sudden the Eye opened. And across the causeway came the

blue-white Ray, carrying death and destruction.

The Drilgoes, who had learned wisdom, remained concealed out of the

Ray's path, and escaped, but a great dinosaur, fifty or sixty feet in

length, startled by the light, came blundering out of the ferns,

uttered a bellow, and melted into an amorphous mass. Birds dropped

from their roosting places with a sound like that of falling hail.

Black paths were cloven through the midst of the jungle.

Rifle in hand, Jim soared into the air, and shot forward, high above

the causeway toward the glowing Eye.

He had noticed that the blue-white ray appeared in cycles of about two

minutes, and had made his plans accordingly. Two minutes in which to

accomplish his task, or take the chance of a hideous death. Some

thirty seconds carried him right into the glowing heart of the winking

Eye: he hovered and raised his rifle.

Underneath him the breakers thundered: round the Eye a myriad

sea-birds fluttered, dashing themselves against it, falling into the

waves. Huge and high the great city towered into the skies, lit by its

soft incandescence. Jim could see the throngs in the streets, the

traffic. But what was happening in the other side of the Eye?

* * * * *

Suddenly he saw the moon in her third quarter sailing through the

skies, and a hideous fear overcame him. Suppose Tode had met with

treachery; suppose that this very night Lucille were doomed to be

sacrificed to the terrible god Cruk!

Suppose that even at that moment her tender flesh were being

sacrificed by the awful hooks!

He drew a bead upon the Eye and fired--and missed. The bullet went

wide. But even if it struck, what guarantee had he that it would

shatter the glass, or whatever substance it was that covered the orb?

He lost position, and knew that the two-minute interval was drawing to

a close. He soared and fired again. The Eye still glowed.

Then of a sudden a blinding ray shot forth from it, so dazzling that

it seemed to sear Jim's eyeballs. The interval was ended.

It shot beneath him, but no more than a few feet, and turning his eyes

shoreward, Jim saw it sweep along the causeway and tear a black path

through the forest. Frantically he soared, and circled around the

temple.

The ray went out. Two minutes more. And now the temporary panic had

passed; Jim's nerves grew steady as a rock. He eased the controls and

floated in toward the glowing orb. Sea-mews, screaming, dashed

themselves against it and fell, wounded and broken, into the breaking

seas below. They fluttered past Jim's face, one impacted against his

chest with a thud that rocked him where he hovered.

But Jim knew that he could not fail. At a distance of fifty feet he

drew a bead upon the centre of the Eye and pressed the trigger.

And instantly the light went out....

CHAPTER X

_The Fight in the Dark_

He dropped down softly to the causeway. Within the city he heard a

sound such as he had never heard before, as if some ancient prophecy

of doom had been fulfilled, a wailing "Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!" that was

caught up from throat to throat and rose upon the wind in a clamor

wild and mournful as that of the sea-birds around the broken Eye. It

was the death-keening of proud Atlantis, Queen of the Atlantic for

fifty thousand years. She was dying in darkness.

For, with the blinding of the Eye, all the soft lights within the city

had gone out. Dense, utter, impenetrable darkness reigned, and even

the gibbous moon, floating overhead, seemed to give no light.

Jim dropped to the causeway and began running in the direction of the

city. But, feeling the drag of his wings, he unbuckled the strap and

flung them away. He might need them, but his one thought was to get to

Lucille, if she were still alive. And he felt that each moment lost

might mean that he would be too late.

Through the blackness he raced forward, hearing that sobbing ululation

within the walls. But behind him he heard another sound, and shuddered

at it, all his hopes suddenly reversed. For that sound was the

shouting of the Drilgoes as they rushed forward to conquest. And now

it seemed a monstrous thing that proud Atlantis should be at the mercy

of these hordes. He had let loose destruction upon the world. But it

was to save Lucille.

That was his consolation. Yet he hardly checked the racing thoughts

within his mind even for a moment, to meditate on what he had done.

Those thoughts were all of Lucille. He must get to her before the

Drilgoes entered. And he ran faster, panting, gasping, till of a

sudden the portals loomed before him, and he saw a crowd of frenzied

Atlanteans struggling to pass through, and a file of soldiers

struggling to keep them back.

* * * * *

He could distinguish nothing more than the confused struggle. He

hurled himself into the midst of the crowd and swept it back. He was

within the walls now, and struggling to pass through the mob of people

that was swarming like homeless bees.

He fought them with flailing fists, he clove a pathway through them,

until he found himself in a great shadowy space that he recognized as

the central assembly of the city. More by instinct than design he hit

upon the narrow court that was the elevator. But the court was filled

with another mob of struggling people, and in the darkness there was

no possibility of discovering the secret of raising it.

He blundered about, raging, forcing a path now here, now there. He ran

into blind alleys, into small threading streets about the court, which

led him back into the central place of assembly. It was like a

nightmare, that blind search under the pale three-quarter moon and the

black, star-blotched sky.

Suddenly Jim found himself wedged by the pressure of the crowd into a

sort of recess leading off the elevator court. So strong was the

pressure here that he was unable to move an inch. Wedged bolt upright,

he could only wait and let the frenzied mob stream past him. And

louder above the sound of wailing came the roars of the Drilgoes

swarming along the causeway.

Suddenly something gave behind him--a door, as it seemed, broken off

its hinges by the mob pressure. Jim was hurled backward, and fell

heavily down a flight of stone stairs, bringing up against a stone

balustrade. He got up, unconscious of his bruises, ran to the top of

the flight, and saw the dim square of palest twilight where the door

had been.

But over him he could faintly see the stairs and the balustrade,

winding away to what seemed immeasurable height. That stairway must

lead to the top of the building, and thence there should be some

access to the amphitheatre. Jim turned toward it.

* * * * *

Suddenly a tremendous uproar filled the streets, yells, the clicking

grunts of the Drilgoes, the screams of the panic-stricken populace.

The invaders had arrived, and they were sweeping all before them. No

chance of recognition in that darkness. Lucille! Shouting her name,

Jim began to ascend the stairs in leaps of three at a time.

But long before he reached the top he was ascending one by one, with

straining limbs and laboring breath. Red slaughter down below, a very

inferno of sound; above, that shadowy stairway, still extending almost

to the heavens. Step after step, flight beyond flight!

Jim's lungs were bursting, and his heart hammering as if it would

break his chest. One flight more! One more! Another! Suddenly he

realized that his task was ended. In place of the stairs stood a vast

hall, and beyond that another hall, dim in the faint light that

filtered through the glass above.

Jim thought he remembered where he was. Beyond that next hall there

should be the tongue of flooring, crossing the amphitheatre and

joining the platform of the idols. But he stopped suddenly as he

emerged, not upon the tongue, but upon still another stairway.

He had gone astray, and out of his bursting lungs a cry of rage and

despair went up. For a moment he stood still. What use to proceed

further?

And then, amazingly, there came what might have been a sign from

heaven. Down through a small, square opening overhead, no larger than

a ventilator, it came ... a glimmer of violet flame!

And Jim hurled himself like a madman against the stairs, and

surmounted them with two bounds. There were no more. Instead, Jim

found himself looking down into the amphitheatre.

The thick walls had cut off all sound from his ears, save a confused

murmur, but now a hideous uproar assailed them. The whole floor of the

amphitheatre was a mass of moving shadows, of slayers and slain.

The Drilgoes had broken in and trapped the multitudes that had taken

refuge there. Their fearful stone-tipped spears thrust in and out, to

the accompaniment of their savage howls and the screams of the dying.

* * * * *

Never has such a shadow-play been seen, perhaps, as that below, where

death stalked in dense darkness, and the slayer did not even see his

victim. Only the thrust of spears, the soft, yielding flesh that they

encountered, the scream, the wrench of stone from tissue, and the

blended howl of triumph and scream of despair.

Yet only for a moment did Jim turn his eyes upon that sight. For he

knew where he was now. He had emerged upon the other side of the

amphitheatre, upon the platform where he had seen the priests and

dignitaries gathered when he was led forward to be sacrificed.

There, in the rear, were the hideous, shadowy gods, looming up out of

the darkness, their outstretched arms interlaced. And there upon the

platform was the Atom Smasher, a little thread of violet light seeping

out of the central tube.

Beside it stood a group of figures, impossible to distinguish in the

darkness, but of a sudden Lucille's scream rang out above the din

below.

With three leaps Jim was at her side. He saw the girl, Tode, and

Parrish, struggling in the grasp of a dozen priests. They were

dragging them toward the idols, and Jim understood what that scene

portended.

In despair at the irruption of the Drilgoes, the priests were seeking

to propitiate their gods by sacrificing the three strangers whom they

held responsible for all their woes.

Jim caught Lucille in his arms, shouting her name. She knew him,

turned toward him. Then one of the priests, armed with a great

stone-headed club--for no metal is permitted within the precincts of

the god Cruk--struck at him furiously.

Jim leaped aside, letting the club descend harmlessly upon the floor.

He shot out his right with all his strength behind it, catching the

priest upon the jaw, and the man crumpled.

* * * * *

Whirling the club around his head, he fought back the fanatics, all

the while shouting to Tode to start the Atom Smasher. In such a moment

he only remembered that Tode was a white man, and of his own

generation.

He struck down three of the priests; then he was seized around the

knees from behind, and fell heavily. The club was wrenched from his

hand. In another moment Jim found himself helpless in the grasp of the

Atlanteans.

As he stopped struggling for a moment, to gather his strength for a

supreme effort, he heard a whir overhead, and saw the arms of the

stone gods begin their horrible revolution. The priests had started

the machinery. And high above the din below rang out the wild chant of

the high priest.

Jim saw him now, a figure poised upon a platform behind the arms, his

own arms raised heavenward.

"Aiah! Aiah! Aiah!"

Jim was being dragged forward, with Lucille beside him, old Parrish

following, still making a futile struggle for life, while pitiful

screeches issued from his mouth.

Jim saw the revolving arms descend within a foot of his head. One more

fight--one more, the last.

Suddenly, with loud yells, a band of Drilgoes leaped forward from the

head of the stairs and rushed upon the struggling priests and victims.

And, dark as it was, Jim recognized their leader--Cain.

And Cain knew Lucille. As the priests rallied for a desperate

resistance, Cain hurled his great body through the air, landing

squarely upon the shoulders of the priest nearest the revolving arms,

and knocking him flat.

Then the arms caught priest and Drilgo, and the steel hooks dug deep

into their flesh. A screech of terror, a howl that reverberated

through the amphitheatre, and nothing remained of either but a heap

of macerated flesh.

But in that instant Jim had fought free again. He caught Lucille and

dragged her back toward the Atom Smasher.

* * * * *

Tode had already broken from his captors and was working at it

frantically.

"Hold on!" screeched old Parrish. "Hold on!"

They had a moment's leeway. The Drilgoes had driven the priests back

into the hooks. With awful shrieks the fanatics were yielding up their

lives, in the place of their selected victims.

But more Drilgoes were pouring up the stairs. A moment's leeway, and

no more, before the savage band would impale the four upon their

stone-pointed spears. There was not the slightest chance that they

would be able to make their identity known.

"For God's sake hurry!" Jim yelled in Tode's ear.

The wheels were revolving, a stream of violet light, leaping out of

the central tunnel, cast a lurid illumination upon the scene.

But it was too late. A score of Drilgoes, with leveled spears, were

rushing on the four.

"Hold tight!" screeched Parrish. He thrust his arm into his breast,

and pulled out a little lever. Jim recognized it and remembered. It

was the instrument of universal death--the uranium release of untold

forces of cataclysmic depredation.

"Take that!" screamed the old man, inserting the lever into the secret

groove in the Atom Smasher and jerking it in the direction of the

priests.

CHAPTER XI

_Tode's Last Gamble_

A roar that seemed to rend the heavens followed. Roar upon roar, as

the infinite momentum of the disintegrating uranium struck obstacle

after obstacle. The Drilgoes vanished, the amphitheatre melted away,

walls and roof.... Overhead were the moon and stars.

And proud Atlantis was sinking into the depths of the sea.... Not as a

ship sinks, but piecemeal, her walls and towers crumbling and toppling

as a child's sand-castle crumbles under the attack of the lapping

waves. Down they crashed, carrying their freight of black, clinging,

human ants, while from the sea's depths a wave, a mile high, rose and

battered the fragments to destruction. From the crater of the volcano

a huge wave of fire fanned forward, and where fire and water met a

cloud of steam rose up.

A boiling chaos in which water and earth and fire were blended, spread

over land and sea. And then suddenly it was ended. Where the last

island of the Atlantean continent had been, only the ocean was to be

seen, placid beneath the stars.

The Atom Smasher was vibrating at tremendous speed. Jim, with one arm

round Lucille, faced Tode at the instrument board. Near by sat

Parrish, watching him too.

"That took a whole year," said Tode. "That pretty little scene of

destruction we've just witnessed. The good old Atom Smasher has been

doing some lively stunts, or we'd have been engulfed too. We're not

likely to see anything so pretty in history again, unless we go to

watch the destruction of Herculaneum and Pompeii by lava from

Vesuvius. But that would be quite tame in comparison with this."

* * * * *

Tode's jeering tone grated on Jim's ears immeasurably.

"I don't think any of us are craving any more experiments, Tode," he

said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Suppose you take us back to

Peconic Bay. We'll dump the Atom Smasher into the pond, and try to

forget that we've had anything except a bad nightmare."

"Don't trust him, Jim," whispered Lucille.

Tode heard. "Thank you," he answered, scowling. "But seriously, Dent,

we can't go back with nothing to show for all our trouble. Those fools

tried to betray me, and then the Eye went out. Perhaps I have you to

thank for that performance? However, the sensible thing is to let

bygones be bygones. But we must make a little excursion. How about

picking up a little treasure from the hoards of Solomon or Genghis

Khan? A few pounds of precious stones would make a world of difference

in our social status when we reach Long Island."

Jim felt a cold fury permeating him. Tode saw his grim look and

laughed malignantly.

"Well, Dent, I'm ready to be frank with you," he said. "The game's

still in my hands. I want Lucille. I'm willing to take you and Parrish

back, provided you agree she shall be mine. I'll have to trust you,

but I shall have means of evening up if you play crooked."

"Why don't you ask my girl herself?" piped old Parrish.

"He needn't trouble. He knows the answer!" cried Lucille scornfully.

"There's your answer," said Jim. "Now, what's the alternative?"

"The alternative is, that I have already set the dial to eternity,

Dent," grinned Tode. "Eternity in the fifth dimension. Didn't know I'd

worked that out, did you? A pleasant little surprise. No, don't try to

move. My hand is on the lever. I have only to press it, and we're

there."

* * * * *

Jim stood stock still in horror. Tode's voice rang true. He believed

Tode had the power he claimed.

"Yes, the fifth dimension, and eternity," said Tode, "where time and

space reel into functionlessness. Don't ask me what it's like there.

I've never been there. But my impression of it is that it's a fairly

good representation of the place popularly known as hell.

"You fool, Dent," Tode's voice rang out with vicious, snarling

emphasis, "I gave you your chance to come in with me. Together we'd

have made ourselves masters of Atlantis and brought back her plunder

to our Twentieth Century world. You refused because of a girl--a girl,

Dent, who loved me long before you came upon the scene."

"That's a lie, Lucius," answered Lucille steadily. "And you can do

your worst. There's one factor you haven't reckoned in your

calculations, and that's called God."

"The dark blur on the spectral lines," old Parrish muttered.

Tode laughed uproariously. "Come, make your choice, Dent," he mocked.

"It's merely to press this lever. You'll find yourself--well, we won't

go into that. I don't know where you'll find yourself. You'll

disappear. So shall I. But I'm desperate. I must have Lucille.

Choose!" His voice rang out in maniac tones. "Choose, all of you!"

"Lucille has answered you," Jim retorted.

"And how about you, old man?" called Tode to Parrish.

Parrish leased forward, making a swift movement with his hand. "Go to

your own hell, you dev--"

A blinding light, a frantic oscillation of the Atom Smasher, a sense

of death, awful and indescribable--and stark unconsciousness rushed

over Jim. His last thought was that Lucille's arms were about him, and

that he was holding her. Nothing mattered, therefore, even though they

two were plunged into that awful nothingness of the fifth dimension,

where neither space nor time recognizably exists. Love could exist

there.

CHAPTER XII

_Solid Earth_

"He's coming around, Lucille. Thank God for it!"

Jim opened his eyes. For a few moments he looked about him without

understanding. Then the outlines of a room etched themselves against

the clouded background. And in the foreground Lucille's face. The girl

was bending over Jim, one hand soothing his forehead.

"Where am I?" Jim muttered.

"Back on earth, Jim, the good old earth, never again to leave it,"

answered Lucille, with a catch in her voice. With an effort she

composed herself. "You mustn't talk," she said.

"But what place is this?"

"It's Andy Lumm's house. Now rest, and I'll explain everything later."

But the first explanation came from Andy Lumm. "Well, Mr. Dent, my

wife and me sure were glad to be on the spot when you and Miss Parrish

got bogged on the edge of the Black Pool," he said. "Mean, treacherous

place it is. Thar was a cow got mired thar last month, up to her

belly. If us hadn't found her, and dragged her out with ropes, she'd

have gone clear under. Granpop Dawes says thar's underground springs

around the edge, and that it runs straight down to hell, though that

seems sorter far-fetched to me.

"Yessir, and if I hadn't heard WNYC giving Miss Parrish on the list of

missing persons, and as having been seen near here, I reckon I'd never

have found you. Made me and my wife uneasy, that did. 'Andy,' she

says. 'I got an inkling you oughter go to the Vanishing Place and see

if she ain't there.' And there I found you two, mired to the waist,

and Mr. Parrish dancing around and fretting, and his clothes burned to

cinders.

"It sure seems strange to me, to think Mr. Parrish got away safe after

that explosion five years ago, and of his wandering around with loss

of memory, till you found him, and brung him back here to restore it,

but thar's strange things in the world--yes, sir, thar surely is!"

In the happiness of being back on Earth once more, Jim was content to

let further explanations go. The return of Parrish had been duly

chronicled in the newspapers, and had provoked a mild interest, but

fortunately the public mind was so occupied at the moment with the

trial of a night club hostess that, after the first rush of newspaper

men, the three were left alone.

* * * * *

Day after day, in the brilliant autumn weather, Jim and Lucille would

roam the tinted woods, recharging themselves with the feel of Earth,

until the memory of those dread experiences grew dim.

"Well, Jim, I reckon I'd better tell you and get it over," said old

Parrish one morning--Parrish, quite his old, jaunty self again. "Tode

had got the dials pointing to the fifth dimension--eternity, he called

it, though actually I believe it's nothing more than annihilation, a

grand smash. Well, he pressed that lever. But something had gone

wrong.

"You remember how poor Cain seemed to take great interest in the Atom

Smasher. There's no way of telling what had been going on in that

brain of his, but it looks to me like he'd known that that lever meant

death. It was sealed up in wax, and Tode had got it free on the way

out of Atlantis.

"Well--this it what I made out from examining the thing afterward.

Cain had been monkeying with the lever. He'd pried loose one of the

wires that hooked to the transformer, and short-circuited it, not

knowing, of course, just what he was doing. The result was that when

Tode pressed that lever, instead of blowing the whole contraption to

pieces, he got a couple of billion volts of electricity through his

body, combined with a larger amperage than has ever been imagined. It

burned him to a few grease spots. He simply--vanished. You don't

remember what you did at the moment, boy?"

"I don't seem to remember anything," said Jim.

"Well, your response was an automatic one. You jumped him. Luckily

you were too late, for Tode vanished like that!" Old Parrish snapped

his fingers. "But you must have got into the field of magnetic

force--any way, you were almost electrocuted. Lucille and I thought

you were dead for hours.

"We laid you down and set a course for home. I used those dial

numberings Tode had given me. He'd said they wouldn't work, but he'd

lied. They did work. They brought us back to the Vanishing Place.

"We carried you out, and then I saw your eyelid twitch. We worked over

you with artificial respiration till it looked as if there was a

chance for you. Then I shut off the power and let the waters rush in

over the Atom Smasher, and swam ashore. And there it lies at the

bottom of the pool, and may it lie there till the Judgment Day."

* * * * *

"Tode was a genius," said Jim, "but he never understood that character

counts for more than genius."

"Let's think no more about him," said Lucille. She had come up to

them, and the two looked at each other and smiled. Love is

self-centred; other things it forgets very quickly.

"To-morrow we go back to New York," said Jim. "You think you're able

to face the world and take up life again?"

"I think so, Jim," said Lucille.

"You're not remembering him after all?"

"No, Jim. I was thinking of poor Cain. He died for me."

"But that was twelve thousand years ago, my dear, and to-day's

to-day," said Jim. "And to-morrow a new life begins for you and me."

He drew her closer to him. No, he would never quite forget, but that

was twelve thousand years ago ... and to-morrow was his wedding day.

_A Meeting Place for Readers of_ Astounding Stories

[Illustration: _The Readers' Corner_]

_An "Astounding" Career_

Dear Editor:

A friend introduced me to your new magazine, and it is

wonderful. The best story in the magazine, or, rather, the

one I liked best, outside of the serial, which I didn't

read, is "The Cave of Horror," by Capt. S. P. Meek. Next

comes Ray Cummings' story of the Fourth Dimension, "Phantoms

of Reality." Other good ones are, "Tanks," "Invisible

Death," and "Compensation."

I did not like "The Stolen Mind." It seemed to me to be a

mixture of superstition and magic. A fairy tale. I am glad

that you are publishing this magazine, and I think that it

is worth double its present price. You have my good wishes

to the magazine for a long and astounding career. My way of

reading a serial is to save copies and to read the story at

one time. I do not like to wait a month for a story to end

or continue.

Your next issue seems to sound quite interesting. "The Spawn

of the Stars," a very interesting and, I am sure, a fit name

for the story. "Creatures of the Light" is a very vague

name--you don't know what to expect. The others will prove

to be as interesting as any that I have named. I prefer

interplanetary stories the most, as any amount of science

can be injected in them.--Nathan Greenfield, 318 East 78th

St., New York, N. Y.

_Prefers Long Stories_

Dear Editor:

I got your first issue of Astonishing Stories, and, although

I like the stories, I do not like the way you have it bound.

(This is supposed to be criticism, so don't take it to

heart.) The pages are uneven and hard to turn. But the

stories in the first copy were good. And you'll have a swell

magazine if you have stories by Harl Vincent and Ray

Cummings. The aforesaid men are two of the best in the

science fiction field. Another thing: don't have any short

stories. If you have about 3 or 4 l-o-n-g stories, I'd like

it better. I hope your magazine enjoys much success!--Linus

Hogenmiller, 502 N. Washington Street, Farmington, Mo.

_Another Who Likes Interplanetary Stories_

Dear Editor:

I have read the first issue of Astounding Stories with much

pleasure, and if the first issue is any indication of what

is to follow I will continue to be a reader.

You inquire as to the kind of stories that your readers

think should be published. I think you will find the most

popular brand to be interplanetary stories and stories along

the line of the "Beetle Horde." Best wishes for success in

your new endeavor--F. C. Cowherd, Room 333, L. & N.

Railroad, Louisville, Ky.

_Attention, Joiners!_

Dear Editor:

I have just finished one of the stories in your magazine,

and could not resist the temptation to write and tell you

how much I enjoyed it. The stories are great and are just

the thing to give one rest and recreation. At the same time

they fire imagination and are not trashy love stories.

The main purpose of the letter is to revive an old idea and

see if I can put it through. I propose to organize a

correspondence society for readers interested in science. We

would use Astounding Stories as our official medium. Each

member would receive a list of members' names and addresses,

a quantity of official stationery for inter-correspondence,

and a certificate of membership suitable for framing.

The object would be the discussion of scientific topics and

the latest advances.

I would suggest an annual fee of $2.50 to cover the cost of

printing stationery, certificates, application forms, copy

of the constitution, lists of members and official pins.

All those interested in the formation of such a society are

earnestly requested to write me, giving suggestions as to a

suitable name, etc. They will receive full information, and

a sample of the certificate of membership and an application

form.

I trust you will publish this letter at your earliest

convenience--M. R. Bercovitch, B. Sc., 4643 St. Urbain

Street, Montreal, Canada.

_Sound Criticism_

Dear Editor:

You ask for readers to write you regarding types of stories

desired. Well, I am an electrical engineer and of course

like my yarns to have a touch of science in them. Also I

like my authors to make an original contribution to whatever

theory of science they develop fictionally. This Ray

Cummings doesn't do in his very interesting story, "Phantoms

of Reality." His beginning is palpably borrowed from Francis

Flagg's story, "The Blue Dimension," which appeared in a

Science Fiction magazine in 1927. Flagg developed the theory

of vibrations, reverberation, etc., and contributed

something new to speculative science. Cummings merely seizes

this point and dives into a series of improbable adventures.

Now I am not quarrelling with their improbability: I like my

stories improbable, but I am asking for something more

original than the old rehash of kings and queens, intrigues,

and returning princes, etc. Again, Cummings seems to lack

enough scientific acumen to make his other world different

than this. Even a superficial thinker will readily see that

the terrain of the other world would not faithfully follow

our own in its salient features. However, forgive me for

knocking--the story wasn't so bad, and Cummings doubtless

can do better than this--or has.

"The Beetle Horde"--so far--is a gem, and holds the

interest. Furthermore, its science is splendid. I am looking

forward to its conclusion. "The Cave of Horror" is a damn

good yarn, well written, interest sustained: but I didn't

care for "The Stolen Mind." The truth is that that

particular story didn't hang together very well. It left one

up in the air, as it were, and far from satisfied me. Too,

the science involved, to say the least of it, was not very

sound or plausibly put. In reading the story I felt that the

author was one who should be encouraged to write

more--nothing wrong with his imagination or ability to fling

words--but that he should be gently coerced into writing

with better continuity and intelligence. "Compensation"

didn't click--too loose--not compact enough. Splendid idea

ruined by hasty writing. Another author needing a gentle

hint. But "Tanks" was another sure-fire hit with me. Held me

to last word. The story sounded real.

So for the stories in your first issue. You see, on the

whole, I liked all of them. Still, I also like variety.

Can't you give us some of the Francis Flagg type of fiction?

H. Hyatt Verril is another of my favorites, also Dr. Keller

and Clara Harris. I have read mighty good tales by those

authors. I believe you could do worse than to run an

occasional H. G. Wells story, and if you gave us "The First

Men in the Moon" serially, I for one would be delighted. I

have tried in vain to get that story and never have. Well, I

guess I have said enough. Best wishes for the New Year. May

Astounding Stories grow and prosper--and its Editor.--C.

Harry Jaeger, 2900 Jeedan Road, Oakland, California.

_Likes Interplanetary Stories_

Dear Editor:

Having read the first issue of Astounding Stories, I am

about to pronounce a sentence on it. It is guilty of being

"Astounding" to the Nth degree!

I enjoyed all the stories immensely and will be anxiously

awaiting the next issue.

Now as for some suggestions which I think would improve the

magazine.

I. Try to have an interplanetary story in each issue.

II. Publish a number of interesting letters concerning

Astounding Stories in each issue.

III. Have several illustrations in long stories.

I think this would improve the magazine, although it is

perfect just the way it is.

Hoping Astounding Stories has a long and successful

life!--Forrest Ackerman, 530 Staples Avenue, San Francisco,

Cal.

_Watch the Coming Issues, Miss Miller!_

Dear Editor:

Saw your new magazine at the newsstand and bought it at

once. I like the following stories in this issue: "The

Beetle Horde," "Phantoms of Reality," "The Stolen Mind." I

did not care much for the others, and least of all for

"Tanks."

I believe that readers, like myself, who are interested in

scientific fantasies, prefer stories of interplanetary

travels and fourth dimensional stories, and variations of

these themes. Such as various space-ships and vibration

machines for visiting other planets and traveling backward

and forward in time. Stories of lost continents and of

strange races of people living in unknown places on our own

Earth are interesting also.

A magazine of this kind has unlimited possibilities for

stories of the aforementioned types, and I believe that

readers who buy magazines of these subjects expect to find

therein really Astounding Stories. Best wishes for the

success of your magazine!--Ruth Miller, St. Regis Hotel,

Cleveland, Ohio.

"_The Scienceers_"

Dear Editor:

This is to inform you that we have formed a club which we

named "The Scienceers." The object of this club is to bring

together members who are interested in science in general,

also to talk the stories of your magazine over. We have no

means of reaching those who are interested except through

your magazine. We hope you will grant us space to print this

letter in your magazine. We would appreciate it if every

reader of your magazine living in New York City or nearby

towns would drop us a card with his name and address. We

then would be able to send him information of our club. We

hope you will print this letter, as we are all readers of

your magazine.--Louis Wexeler, 1933 Woodbine Street,

Brooklyn, New York.

_We Examine All Science Very Carefully_

Dear Editor:

In the first edition of your periodical, you invite

criticism from its readers. I am extremely pleased to note

that Ray Cummings is among its contributors. His short crisp

sentences and word pictures are most interesting. As to the

type of stories, I would not be particular; but there is one

thing which must be observed: Since this magazine is about

science every story must be examined to discover any false

statements by the author concerning present-day science.

I think that discoveries and inventions to be made in the

future--by the author, of course--cannot be censored.--James

Brodent, New York, N. Y.

_Young Mr. Wright Writes In_

Dear Editor:

I am accepting your offer to write and tell you what kind of

stories I like. So I did.

I prefer stories of the Fourth Dimension.

I hope to find plenty of these fascinating stories in your

coming issues.--Billy Wright, Age 11, Sheppard Place,

Nashville, Tenn.

_Likes His Science Fiction_

Dear Editor:

Allow me to congratulate you on your fine magazine, it being

one of the seven (more or less) magazines in print that are

the best on the market.

I am glad to say that I can't throw you any brickbats, only

bouquets, and thought I would tell you the kind of stories I

would like to see in "our" magazine, if I may take the

liberty of calling it that.

I like stories of the type A. Merritt and Edgar Rice

Burroughs write, particularly A. Merritt, and if you could

reprint "Through the Dragon Glass," by A. Merritt, I wish

you would, and give it a cover illustration, as I have

everything by him except that one. Please give it a cover

illustration as well as any by Merritt and Burroughs you

ever print.

You certainly have a good title, and in my opinion the

magazine need not be changed one iota, except perhaps you

might have the background a different color every month;

that is, the background of the cover, using every color in

the solar spectrum, which might make it sell better, and, at

any rate, would make a nice looking magazine in my opinion.

Everything in Science Fiction that comes out I have to get,

and pretty soon I will have so much that I will probably

have to pay storage space for it. I have a pretty good

amount now; four stacks two feet high each, but I can't

resist it and will keep on buying as long as there is

anything in that line to buy, and as long as I can.

Put this in the proverbial waste-basket if you don't want to

print it, as that is probably its ultimate destination

anyway, as my ideas are not worth much or less than that.

But I do wish you would read it through and act on my

suggestions soon.

Thanks--from an ardent devourer of Science Fiction, who

reads everything in that line he can get his hands on, your

and our magazine being one of the best in that line.--Worth

K. Bryant, 406 North Third Street, Yakima, Washington.

"_A Great Magazine_"

Dear Editor:

I have just come across a copy of your new magazine

Astounding Stories, and to say that it is a great magazine

is putting it mild. I enjoy stories of the distant future.

The first instalment of "The Beetle Horde" by Victor

Rousseau was great. I hope to hear more of this author in

coming issues. I would like to see stories by such authors

as Edgar Rice Burroughs, Harl Vincent, Otis Adelbert Kline,

Garret Smith, also Ray Cummings. I wish Astounding Stories a

long life.--Wilbert Moyer, 533 N. 7th Street, Allentown, Pa.

_Mr. Anderson's Favorites_

Dear Editor:

Just a word referring to your "What kind of stories do you

like?" in Astounding Stories. I like stories with some facts

based on true science of to-day, but let the author's

imagination wander a little, because anything might be

possible to-morrow. I do not like love stories or much humor

in this type of stories.

Stories of other worlds or of the Fourth Dimension always

interest me, because there is no limit to the imagination

there.

Why not have a discussion column and print some of the

letters? It would encourage more to write, and give you

their opinion: and, whether good or bad, should help you

please the majority.

Some will maybe say the cover is too vivid--but that was

what attracted my eye when I picked it out from among many

others.

Most of your stories in the first edition were good. I liked

"The Beetle Horde" and "Phantoms of Reality" best. Also

noticed the "Spawn of the Stars" next issue, which sounds O.

K. Hoping you all success in this type of stories.--C. E.

Anderson, 3504 Colfax Avenue, Minneapolis, Minn.

_A Young Reader's Favorites_

Dear Editor:

I am writing you, per your request in your first issue of

Astounding Stories. They are most entertaining. I have read

three of the stories and they are excellent. You asked the

readers to tell you the kind of stories we liked best. I

like stories that concern the future of aviation. I like

interplanetary stories, also the stories about the Fourth

Dimension. I like Cummings', Rousseau's, Leinster's Meek's,

Vincent's and Starzl's writing. Your magazine is sure worth

twenty cents. You could put more science in your stories.

Please hold H. Wesso, your artist. He can really draw. I

have seen his drawings in other magazines. And you may

console yourself with the thought that you have one

continuous reader. I feel that your magazine is going to be

a success. I am also expressing the thoughts of other

readers. I am only 15 years old, but I like to read good

science stories, nevertheless. I hope to see you in next

month's magazine.--Ward Elmore, 2912 Avenue J. Ft. Madison,

Iowa.

_A Contented Reader_

Dear Editor:

Congratulations on your new publication, Astounding Stories.

I certainly enjoyed reading the January issue. I believe

that this magazine is the answer to the prayer of those

readers who are desirous of something different, something

unique. Another feature is that you are charging only 20¢ a

copy for a magazine that is really worth several times that

amount. You may count on me as a steady buyer of the

Astounding Stories as long as future issues are up to the

standard of the January issue.

Let me urge you that you give us the magazine on time every

month. I do not want to postpone my enjoyment of reading the

Unique Magazine on the first Thursday of each month.

Keep up the good work, and remember me as a contented

reader of your publication--T. J. Creaff, Jr. P. O. Box 734,

Phoenix Arizona.

"_A Lallapaloozer_"!

Dear Editor:

Well, I've got to say something, and I might as well get it

over with. Your new magazine, Astounding Stories, is a

Lallapaloozer. I'm sorry I didn't get the first edition of

the new magazine, but I suppose you have some in stock and

I'm sending in my twenty cents in stamps to get one. I might

as well tell you how I found out about this new wonder.

One dreary, dreary night I walked into my newsdealer's store

to get a paper. While there I happened to glance upon the

bookstand--I saw the word Astounding and, my curiosity

aroused, I walked over to the stand and pulled the magazine

out. Imagine my surprise and delight when I found out what

it was! Well, I bought the book then and there without even

taking a look inside. When I got home I opened the book, and

the first story that caught my eye was "Old Crompton's

Secret," by Harl Vincent. I knew the story was good before I

read it, because I've read quite a few of Mr. Vincent's

novels and they were all excellent. The best stories I like

are interplanetary stories.

Why not have a "Reader Talks" in Astounding Stories, where

each reader gives his point of view on the stories in the

magazine? I know everyone would enjoy that, as it gives the

readers a chance to comment on stories and, also, see what

the other reader thinks about any story in particular.

I wish you success in your new enterprise and hope my first

edition of Astounding Stories arrives soon.--Joseph

Kankowsky, 35 Columbia Street, West Orange, New Jersey.

"_The Readers' Corner_"

All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "come

over in 'The Readers' Corner'" and join in our monthly discussion of

stories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities--everything

that's of common interest in connection with our Astounding Stories.

Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, this

is a department primarily for Readers, and we want you to make full

use of it. Likes, dislikes, criticisms, explanations, roses,

brickbats, suggestions--everything's welcome here: so "come over in

'The Readers' Corner'" and discuss it with all of us!

--_The Editor._

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