Title:      Prince of Peril
Author:     Otis Adelbert Kline
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Prince of Peril

by

Otis Adelbert Kline

FOREWORD

Many people have asked me how I came to write "The Swordsman of Mars," "The Outlaws of Mars," and "The Planet of Peril," and have wondered why the character of Dr. Morgan appears in all of them. "It was all right for the first story," one reader complained, "but it begins to get a bit thick the third time. I hope you're not going to do it again." Another thought that Dr. Morgan really belonged in the series, but that there wasn't enough of him; I should justify his continuance by having him play a more important role in the plot.

As an author, I agree with both of these critics. Dr. Morgan either should have been dropped, or should have a more active and vital role; and I certainly would have taken one of these alternatives in the second novel, "Outlaws of Mars," were this series really my own to work out as I pleased.

You see, while the name "Dr. Morgan" is fictitious, the character is not. It was quite by accident that I literally dropped in on him one day while deer-hunting in the mountains. It was a cloudy day, and I lost my bearings. I'd been foolish enough to forget my compass, so I climbed the highest prominence to orient myself.

If you have ever met me, you will know that these were not tremendous mountains. Now that I'm letting you in on a long-kept secret, I must confess to further deception. If you will re-read the opening chapters of the preceding books, you will see that while I've given the impression that Dr. Morgan's retreat was amidst high mountains, I've never said anything definite about the height. There were high enough for my own purposes of sport and exercise, and Dr. Morgan's purposes of isolation, but you may have been led to overestimate their eminence.

I had all but reached the summit I was approaching, when my feet suddenly slipped from under me. Gun and all, I crashed through something which felt and sounded like glass, and struck a hard, concrete floor. My right leg crumpled under me, and all went black.

When I regained consciousness I thought I was in a hospital, for two men in white garments were working over me.

The younger man I took to be an interne. The other was indeed a doctor, as I was to learn. He was of gigantic stature, but well-proportioned and athletic, and of most striking appearance. His forehead was far higher than any other I had ever seen, bulging outward so that his shaggy eyebrows, which grew completely together above the bridge of his aquiline nose, half concealed his small, glittering, beady eyes. His close-cropped, sharply pointed beard, in which a few gray hairs were in evidence, proclaimed him as probably past middle age.

When he had finished bandaging my fractured leg, which throbbed unmercifully, he dismissed his assistant, called me by name, and introduced himself. I am not yet free to divulge his true identity, so I shall continue to call him "Dr. Morgan."

"What hospital is this," I asked, "and how did you find me?"

"You are not in a hospital," he replied in his booming bass voice, "but still on the mountain in my retreat. My men are now replacing the skylight through which you fell."

For nearly a month I convalesced in the secret, perfectly-camouflaged observatory. When he learned that I was an author (he had learned my name from the mundane process of looking through my wallet) he asked permission to question me under hypnosis, promising to explain when he had finished, and assuring me that I need not worry about anything he would ask me.

There are some human beings who inspire you with trust almost upon first sight. Dr. Morgan was such a person. I agreed; and I learned later that, had he not been trustworthy, it would have been very easy for him to have tricked me into agreement. Actually, he would not have done it without my full consent, honestly gained.

"I must ask your forgiveness," he said, after the session. "While my impression of you was that you were both honest and reliable, I had to be sure that you did not have particular character weaknesses through which you could be easily led to betray confidences you really meant to keep. I have some material which would be ideal for the sort of stories you write, but it is vital that certain aspects of what you will learn do not become public knowledge. Without these, few readers will suspect that what you will write is anything but very imaginative romance, and those few will not be able to ascertain more without facts which I now am confident you won't reveal."

He stroked his beard. "I could, of course, with your consent, doubly insure security by putting you under hypnotic inhibition--you would not remember what you were not supposed to reveal. But this is a risky process, not one hundred percent certain, and might have undesirable side-effects upon you."

"I'll go along with your judgment on this," I told him.

In the days that followed I learned about Dr. Morgan's studies of parapsychology, particularly in telepathy. I had done some reading in this line myself, so knew something of the general theory--that the communication of thoughts or ideas or moods from one mind to another without the use of any physical medium whatever was not influenced or hampered by either time or space.

Dr. Morgan had worked on telepathy for many years in his spare time, when he was in practice; but on his retirement, he tried a different track. "I had to amend the theory," he explained. "I decided that it would be necessary to build a device which would pick up and amplify thought waves. And even this would have failed had my machine not caught the waves projected by another machine, which another man had built to amplify and project them."

Now I had been a devotee of imaginative fiction for many years, and had often thought of turning my hand to writing it. I prided myself on having a better than usual imagination; yet, I did not think of the implications of the theory of telepathy when Dr. Morgan told me that the man who built the thought-projector was on Mars. While I deferred to no one in my fondness for Edgar Rice Burroughs's stories of John Carter and others on Barsoom, I was well aware of the fact that what we knew of the planet Mars made his wonderful civilization on that planet quite impossible. I said as much, going into facts and figures.

"Of course, we won't really know for sure about the exact conditions there unless we land on Mars. But still we know enough to make Burroughs's Mars probability zero," I concluded.

Dr. Morgan nodded. "Entirely correct," he said. "There is no such civilization on Mars."

He then explained his own incredulity when his machine picked up the thoughts of a man who identified himself as a human being--one Lal Vak, a Martian scientist and psychologist. But Lal Vak was no less incredulous when Dr. Morgan identified himself as a human being and scientist of Earth. For Lal Vak was certain that there could be no human civilization on Earth, and cited facts and figures to prove it.

And that was the clue. Both Dr. Morgan and Lal Vak were correct. Neither man could possibly exist on the world he claimed to inhabit--if both were living in the same area of space-time. But Lal Vak's description of Earth was a valid description of the third planet from the sun as it existed millions of years ago.

"I have read many weird and fantastic stories," Dr. Morgan said, "as have you. Some of them have given me a most eerie feeling--but nothing to compare with my feelings upon talking with a man who has been dead millions of years, of whose civilization there may now linger not so much as a single trace."

This was the beginning. Dr. Morgan brought me several thick typewritten manuscripts which he had bound separately, and I read therein the stories of Harry Thorne, of Morgan's own nephew, Jerry, and of Robert Grandon. Thus I learned that Lal Vak was the contemporary of a Venusian named Vorn Vangal and that a human civilization had also existed on Venus at this time.

With the aid of Lal Vak, Dr. Morgan had effected transfer of personalities between two Martians and two Earthmen, whose physical and brain-pattern make-up were similar enough to permit such exchange. Through a means which I am still barred from describing in detail, it was possible for Dr. Morgan to keep in rapport with his emissaries on Mars--providing they co-operated. The first man broke contact, and turned out to be a disasterously wrong choice. Thus, Harry Thorne was sent to Mars, to exchange consciousness with a Martian whose body was holding the personality of Frank Boyd, criminal Earthman.

From Vorn Vangal, Dr. Morgan learned the construction and operation of a space-time vehicle, propelled by telekinesis. It was by means of this vehicle that Morgan's nephew, Jerry, went to Mars physically. But something went wrong on the return trip--Dr. Morgan had tried to bring the vehicle back to Earth and his own time, empty, for use to transport an Earthman to Venus later--and the vehicle was lost.

"It might have been possible to build another," Dr. Morgan told me, after I had finished reading about the adventures of his nephew, "but Vorn Vangal and I decided that it would be simpler to use the personality-exchange system, if we could find an Earthman or two who could qualify." He pointed to the other two manuscripts which I was yet to read. "These tell of what happened to the two I sent to Venus: Robert Grandon and Rorgen Takkor."

"Rorgen Takkor--but he's on Mars," I protested. "He's the Zovil of Xancibar...Did something go wrong? A break-up between him and Neva...?"

Dr. Morgan smiled. "No, no, my friend--Harry Thorne is on Mars in the body of Rorgen Takkor. The man who was my assistant for many years, called Harry Thorne, is Rorgen Takkor." He coughed slightly. "Of course, he is now known as Prince Zinlo of Venus."

I smiled. "If we can consider millions of years in the past as 'now.'"

"I am still in contact with him, as with the others who are 'still' alive...At any rate, Rorgen Takkor asked me if he could go to Venus; he was getting tired of Earth, and of course he could not return to Mars. He was fascinated with what Vorn Vangal told me of the Venusian civilization and was sure he'd feel more at home there, however strange it might be. I'd say it would be roughly analogous to the case of a crusader from 12th Century England transported and settled down into a remote part of Islam, where there was not and probably never would be direct contact with his native civilization."

So "Harry Thorne," and an Earthman named Robert Grandon went to Venus.

Here were four distinct stories, and Dr. Morgan went over them with me, indicating what parts of them might be used for novels, and what had best not be related in detail, or omitted entirely.

I have told you the story of Robert Grandon in "The Planet of Peril," and those of you who have read it will recall that Harry Thorne and Grandon met in the closing episodes of the story. You may remember that Grandon asked Thorne to tell him of his adventures between the time of Thorne's arrival on Venus and this meeting, as it was plain that much had happened and that the other man had found his place and the woman of his heart's desire. Before Thorne could tell the story, they were interrupted by announcements that their airship had arrived at Vernia's capital.

Actually, the record shows that Thorne did tell his story to Grandon later, during the visit--although like nothing in the detail present in Dr. Morgan's records. But it was impossible to give even so brief an outline in this place. It had no bearing on the story of Robert Grandon and his rise on Venus, his winning of Vernia, and the defeat and death of the traitor, Prince Destho. I decided to omit it entirely, leaving it for another novel.

So now I offer you the story of Harry Thorne--and, with your permission, I shall stop calling him "Harry Thorne." This is the story of Rorgen Takkor's adventures on Venus, Rorgen Takkor, born on Mars, transferred to Earth for a decade, and finally finding his career and place on Venus.

The Author.

CHAPTER I

"Good-bye, men and good luck to you."

My awakening, after I lay down on the cot in Dr. Morgan's observatory, was quite sudden and startling. It seemed that not more than a few seconds had elapsed since I had heard the doctor's parting words to Grandon and myself.

I opened my eyes and sat up abruptly with an inexplicable sense of impending danger. My first glimpse of my surroundings convinced me that I had indeed arrived on Venus. The magnificent riot of vegetation surrounding me--vegetation the like of which I had not seen on Mars, the red, barren planet of my birth, nor on Earth, the more recent planet of my adoption--was sufficient evidence.

I was seated on a bank of soft, violet-colored moss which sloped gently to a limpid pool at my feet. The feathery fronds of a giant bush-fern arched above my head, some of them dipping to the surface of the water, where they were snapped at from time to time by playful, grotesque, multi-colored amphibians.

I was dressed in garments of shimmering, scarlet material. There was a broad, golden chain-belt about my waist, with a jeweled clasp in front. Riveted to this belt on the right side was an oblong instrument about two feet in length, with a button near the upper end, a small lever on the side, and a tiny hole in the lower end. I had no idea what it was for; but I recognized the weapon which hung at my left side, as it resembled a scimitar. As I was examining the ruby-studded hilt of this beautiful weapon, a noise at my left attracted my attention.

Cautiously, without turning my head, I glanced from the corners of my eyes across a stretch of shrubbery to where a high wall of black stone surrounded this estate, and hid the country beyond. Just on the other side of the wall a tall fern-tree spread its mighty fronds. It must have been the cracking of one of these that had attracted my attention, for a heavy-set individual with a coarse red beard, cut off square below the chin, had climbed out on it to a point where it would no longer sustain his weight, in an effort to reach the top of the wall.

Someone in the shrubbery quite near me called a whispered warning to him--or such I took it to be, for the language was unknown to me, and I could only judge by the tones. The huge intruder was much more agile than he appeared, for he flung an arm over the top of the wall and drew himself up with catlike quickness. As he struck the wall there was a metallic clank which, I saw as soon as he came into full view, was from an edged weapon at his side, quite like my own but with a less ornate hilt and broader blade.

As soon as the red-bearded man reached the top of the wall, the one who had whispered from the bushes cautiously stood up. He was smaller and more wiry than the first, and his beard, which was iron-gray in color, was trimmed in the same manner.

Red-beard tiptoed stealthily along the top of the wall, glancing toward me from time to time as if fearful that I would hear him or turn toward him. Then he leaned out, caught his fingers in a tall cone-shaped growth, swung his sandaled feet out, and descended.

I wondered if it could be possible that these two prowlers were bent on injury to me, a total stranger on Venus. Then it dawned on me that they could easily be mortal enemies of the prince with whom I had exchanged bodies, and that I--so far as their knowledge went--was that prince.

I therefore drew my cutting weapon from its sheath in order to have it ready, and pretended to examine its beautiful, highly polished blade. For several minutes I neither saw nor heard anything of the two prowlers. Then I suddenly glimpsed, reflected on the polished surface of my blade, the red-bearded man standing directly behind me with his weapon upraised for a downward cut that would have sheared my skull from crown to chin. As swords of all kinds had been my principal playthings on Mars, and fencing my favorite amusement on Earth, I did the thing which any swordsman would have done instinctively in the circumstances. I raised the blade of my weapon above my head with a downward slant from hilt to point, and the descending blade of my would-be assassin, deflected by my own, buried itself in the mossy turf on my left.

Springing to my feet, I whirled and attacked.

My opponent proved to be a hammer-and-tongs fighter, no match for superior swordsmanship. I could have killed him any one of a dozen times before he realized that I was playing with him. Then he bawled out lustily, and the wiry fellow with the gray beard came rushing out of the bushes. Not knowing the caliber of the second assailant, I stopped the squawking of the first with a quick neck-cut that laid him low.

The wiry graybeard was much quicker and far more elusive than his huge companion, and I did not play with him. He soon left me the opening I sought, and I stretched him beside his fellow with a bone-shearing cut.

Having ascertained beyond doubt that both of my would-be assassins were dead, I carefully cleaned my blade, sheathed it, and set out to explore my surroundings.

I had been walking for perhaps ten minutes along the mossy bank, when a monster, more hideous than anything I had ever seen or even dreamed existed, emerged from the water and came toward me.

I whipped out my blade as it waddled forward on its thick, bowed legs. Its long, scaly tail dragged in the moss, and its enormous jaws were distended in a grin that disclosed huge, ivory-white tusks. It was so fearsome a thing that, although I am no coward, I knew not whether to stand and fight or take to my heels.

A gust of laughter at my right caused me to turn. I beheld a tall man, apparently of middle age, smiling broadly at me. His garments were of purple, and he wore a beard that had once been black, now slightly streaked with gray, cut off square below the chin. His weapons were similar to mine, though his belt was of silver.

"The 'ikthos' will not harm you," he said in English. "It is one of the garden pets, and hostile only to strangers."

The thing he called an ikthos sniffed at my garments, rubbed its ugly muzzle against my thigh, yawned, and crouched at my feet.

"You are surprised at my knowledge of English," continued my new acquaintance. "After I tell you who you are and were, and also who I am, the thing will not seem so mysterious. You are he who was Rorgen Takkor on Mars, and later Harry Thorne on Earth. You have now become Zinlo, the Torrogi or Imperial Crown Prince of Olba. I am Vorn Vangal, the Olban psychologist, and have been communicating telepathically with Dr. Morgan of Earth for several years."

"I have heard the doctor speak of you often," I replied. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Vorn Vangal."

He acknowledged with a courtly bow. "I have but a few hours to spend with you. Grandon has already arrived on the other side of the planet and will shortly awaken to find himself a princely slave in the marble quarries of Uxpo. I must fly to his assistance. Come with me and see what preparations I have made for you."

I followed Vorn Vangal through the garden. There was a profusion of ornamental trees, shrubs, fungi and jointed grasses, but no flowers or fruits. Patches of gloriously colored water plants of divers odd shapes flourished in the lagoons, and fungi of a thousand types and sizes grew in the moister places.

Though it was without flowers, the garden did not lack color. All the hues of the rainbow were represented in its rankly growing, primitive vegetation. Toadstools as tall as trees bordered several of the lagoons, some of them lemon-yellow, others orange, scarlet, black or brown, and still others of pale, chalky whiteness.

Beautiful statues and statuettes stood here and there, some placed conspicuously, but more of them showing unexpectedly in niches and vine-covered bowers as we moved along.

The garden teemed with bird and animal life. The trees were alive with gay-plumed songbirds that filled the air with their melodious, flute-like notes. Waterfowl, both swimmers and waders, dotted the lagoons, and their cries, though not musical, were far from unpleasant. Amphibians of many species disported themselves in the water or dozed lazily on the banks. I was astonished at sight of a huge yellow frog which must easily have measured more than six feet from nose to toes, blinking contentedly and fearlessly down at me from his seat on an enormous scarlet toadstool.

With our hideous ikthos trailing closely behind us, and from time to time affectionately nosing either Vorn Vangal or me with its cold, moist snout, we presently came before a tall building. It was of black marble, and was my first glimpse of Olban architecture.

Its shape astonished me. I do not believe there was a straight line in the entire structure. Everything was curved. The building stood on a circular foundation, and its walls, instead of mounting skyward in a straight line, bellied outward and then curved in again at the top. The lower structure was surmounted by a second segment, smaller, but of similar shape. This, in turn, supported others, still smaller, up to the top segment, some thirty feet in diameter and no less than six hundred feet from the ground.

We mounted a flight of steps, walked between two uniformed guards who saluted stiffly, and entered a large circular door, where a slave took charge of the ikthos and led him away. After following a broad hallway for some distance we came to a huge pillar. It was in the center of the building, and was decorated on one side with a large oval plate of burnished silver on which was embossed what appeared to be a coat-of-arms. As we stepped before it the plate slid back, revealing a small room within.

At Vangal's invitation I stepped into the small room inside the huge central pillar of the tower, and he followed. As soon as he stood beside me the silver plate slid back across the entrance, a concealed light flashed on somewhere above our heads, and the floor moved upward.

We were in an elevator, of course, but what had started the thing and how was my companion going to stop it when we reached our destination? There were no levers or buttons of any sort. The thing seemed almost human in its movements. Perhaps there was a hidden operator. I voiced my question to Vorn Vangal.

"It is moved by a mechanism which amplifies the power of telekinesis," he said.

I had often heard Dr. Morgan use the word "telekinesis," and knew that it described that mysterious power of the mind which enables psychics to tip tables and lift imponderable objects without physical means. In short, it referred to the direct power of mind over matter.

"I have heard of small objects being moved or lifted by telekinesis," I marveled, "but to lift an elevator! Why, this is amazing!"

"We lift far heavier things than this little car," said Vangal, smiling slightly. "Huge cranes and derricks are operated in the same way. Airships of all sizes from small one-man flyers to huge battleships are moved by it--propelled through the air at speeds ranging from two hundred to one thousand miles an hour."

"But how is that possible?"

"It was made possible by that wonderful invention, the mechanism that amplifies the mind's power. The manufacture of this mechanism is the exclusive secret of the Olban government, and constitutes our defense against aggression from the warlike torro-gats--or empires--surrounding us. If those governments knew the secret, they would build aircraft and use them for conquest. The Olbans, however, are committed to a policy of 'live and let live': We use our wonderful power only for commercial purposes and as a defense against aggression."

We stopped before a metal plate which slid back noiselessly. I stepped out of the car and Vorn Vangal came after me, whereupon the plate slid back in place.

We were in a small, circular hallway around whose walls were metal doors at intervals of about twenty feet. Vangal led the way to one of these doors, pressed a button, and when it slid open, bowed me into a luxuriously furnished suite lighted by enormous circular windows that reached nearly from floor to ceiling.

"This is to be your retreat until my return from Uxpo," he said. "I have been preparing for your coming these many months."

He walked to a beautifully carved table of red wood, and took a thick scroll from a pile neatly stacked on its polished top.

"These are your lessons in patoa, the universal language of Venus. Our patoan name for Venus is Zarovia. Some twenty thousand patoan words are listed here with their pronunciations and English translations. If you will study them carefully until my return it will perhaps be safe for you to leave the Black Tower. Then I can take you to the Red Tower, the Imperial Palace of Olba."

"Am I to infer that it would be unsafe for me to leave the tower at present?"

"The tower and grounds are well guarded," Vorn Vangal replied; "but do not under any circumstances wander beyond the walls. In the course of your walks in the garden, always keep the ikthos with you. He will warn you of lurking assassins, and will fight in your defense."

"He certainly wasn't on the job a short time ago," I said.

"What do you mean?"

I told him of the two assassins.

"The beast must have been lured away by his keeper!" cried Vangal, when I had finished. "The traitor will be dealt with in due time. And those two ruffians--they would be in the pay of Taliboz, of course."

"Who is Taliboz?"

"A man whom I suspect, but against whom I can prove nothing. Nothing! You see--in the course of preparation for your coming, I cast about for an excuse to bring your predecessor here in order that His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hadjez, might not learn that his son Zinlo was changing places with an Earthman. A ready-made excuse presented itself when word came through the intelligence department of the government that there was a plot on foot to assassinate the male members of the imperial family.

"I immediately suggested that Prince Zinlo be brought here until the plotters could be taken and executed. His majesty readily consented, thus making it possible for me to obtain a quiet retreat for you in which you could learn something of the language and customs of Olba, and at the same time be guarded from danger.

"The plotters have not been apprehended, but I am firmly of the opinion that Taliboz is the ringleader. They have already made an attempt on the life of the Emperor and escaped with the loss of a single man. You can see how you would be exposed by going out unguarded."

"I'm willing to stay here for a while," I replied, "for there is no question about my having to learn this language, patoa, sooner or later. But once I learn your language you won't catch me staying behind walls on account of a few assassins. I was born on Mars, where men do not stay indoors to avoid their enemies; and though I am not familiar with your weapons, I believe I can give some account of myself with this cutting implement at my side if attacked."

"No doubt you can," replied Vangal, "although the two ruffians you killed were probably clumsy fighters. But please bear in mind that you are the Torrogi of Olba--the crown prince--and that your life is not yours to throw away heedlessly."

"Don't ever think I'm going to throw it away," I said. "The man who gets it will have to put up a scrap."

"You might be shot from ambush with a tork."

"A tork?"

"You are wearing one attached to your belt."

Vangal explained the use of the oblong instrument at my side. It was about two feet long and shaped like a carpenter's level. A rivet passed completely through it, about eight inches from the top, fastening it to the belt in such a way that it could be tilted at any angle or pointed in any direction by moving the body.

He pressed a small lever on the side and removed two clips, explaining that one was a gas clip containing a thousand rounds of condensed explosive gas, while the other was a bullet clip which held a thousand rounds of needle-like glass projectiles. These projectiles, he said, were filled with a poison that would paralyze man or beast almost instantly, though the paralysis was only temporary. Other projectiles, he explained, were filled with deadly poison, and still others with explosives. The effective range, he stated, was equal to about ten Earth-miles.

He led me to a window which was open.

"I have prepared a target for you," he said. "You will need to practice with the tork if you are to be able to defend yourself on this planet. Do you see that large white plate against the wall at the other end of the garden?"

Yes."

"I had it erected for your use. It is coated with a substance that will combine with the poison in your tork bullets, emitting a green gas. If you see a green spot appear momentarily on the target you will know that you have registered a hit."

I was eager to try this new weapon, and Vangal, smiling at my eagerness, loaded it for me and showed me how to hold it when pressing the button which fired the gas in the chamber by means of an electric spark. It fed new bullets automatically, he explained.

I confidently fired at the target and waited for a green spot to appear. It remained white. Again I fired with the same result.

"You will need considerable practice," said Vangal. "I am not accounted much of a marksman, but watch."

He fired his tork and a green spot appeared in the center of the target. Then, with no apparent effort, he planted a ring of green spots around it.

When the spots had disappeared I tried again, and managed to hit the target once out of five shots.

"Now let me see what you can do with the scarbo," Vangal said.

"The what?"

"That cutting instrument at your side."

"Oh ho, friend Vangal!" I thought. "You won't find me utterly helpless with this weapon."

He drew his scarbo and I mine. Thinking to best me as easily as he had with the tork, he made as if he would lay my head open.

I parried the blow with ease, then whirled his blade on mine with a movement so sudden that, strong as he was, it flew from his grasp and flashing over his head, clanked in the corner behind him.

"Body of Thorth!" he exclaimed. "That is a marvelous trick!"

I recovered his weapon and handed it to him laughingly.

"On Mars I was raised on a diet of swords," I replied.

"Then I suggest that you confine your efforts to target practice and a mastery of patoa," said Vanga. "I must leave you now to go to the assistance of Grandon. My flyer is on the roof. Would you care to see me off?"

"Assuredly."

I followed him into the elevator.

CHAPTER II

THE ELEVATOR stopped at the floor of the top segment, and we mounted thence to the roof by a spiral stairway. Two guards armed with torks, scarbos and broad-bladed spears, saluted when we appeared. The roof was made of the same material as the walls, and the slabs of black marble were fitted together so cunningly that the joints were all but concealed. It was circled by a four foot wall perforated on the floor level at intervals to carry off the heavy Zarovian rains.

There were four Olban airships on the roof. I examined the nearest one with interest. It was shaped like a small metal duck-boat about ten feet in length and three in the beam. The cockpit was covered with a glass dome in the back of which was a small door. Within this dome I could see an assortment of levers, buttons and knobs, and the cushioned seat for the driver. The thing that amazed me the most was the fact that it was not equipped with planes, rudder or propeller.

Vangal turned to me. "You seem astonished at our airships."

"They certainly do not resemble any aircraft I have previously seen."

"We have no need of planes, propellers or rudders for this type of flyer," he went on. "As I told you, it is raised, lowered, turned, or moved in any desired direction by amplified mindpower. The amplifying mechanism is under the round bump on the forward deck. The small lids that you see fore and aft conceal safety parachutes. That rectangular protuberance from the front of the cab is a mattork, a weapon operated on the same principle as a tork, but with a greater range and firing much heavier projectiles."

"You told me that the Olban government alone possessed the secret for manufacturing these flying mechanisms," I said. "Suppose one should be forced to land in hostile territory. The craft would then, in all probability, fall into the hands of your enemies, and they could thus easily take the mechanism apart and duplicate it."

"That danger has been foreseen. A vial of powerful acid has been placed in the mechanism of each Olban craft in such a way that it will be immediately broken if tampered with. The acid thus released in the secret mechanism will instantly destroy it."

"Certainly a far-sighted provision," I remarked.

"It has kept us at peace with our neighbors for many centuries," replied Vangal. "I dislike leaving you thus precipitately, but the time has come for departure."

So saying, he opened the door in the back of the cab and entered. After a hurried examination of the control levers and the cannon-like mattork, he said: "Farewell. Study diligently, practice assiduously, and be ever on your guard against assassins."

"If I catch any prowling about I'll practice on them instead of the target. Farewell, and a safe and pleasant journey to you."

The little craft rose slowly at first, then, gradually gathering momentum, it shot to a height of a half mile or more, sped away with amazing rapidity, and was soon lost to view.

I walked to the edge of the wall and looked over. The roof was at least six hundred feet from the ground, though the drop from battlement to battlement was only about sixty feet. Far to the northward I descried a city of circular buildings, in the center of which towered an immense red structure similar in design to the one on which I stood, but at least twice as tall.

This must be the Red Tower of which Vorn Vangal had spoken--the Imperial Palace of Olba. The city walls formed a circle, broken at each point of the compass by a tower which evidently covered a gate.

The countryside, as far as I could see, was divided into well-kept farms on each of which was a round building, probably the home of the owner. People were working in the fields, and here and there I saw men driving huge, grotesque beasts hitched to plows or cultivators.

The animals, which I afterward learned were called thirpeds, were great hairless pachyderms; they stood about eight feet at the shoulder, and weighed four to five tons apiece when full grown. They had huge heads and mouths, sharp-pointed long ears, and relatively thin necks almost half as long as their bodies. They moved with a lumbering gait that reminded me of elephants.

The plants under cultivation were fungi of various kinds, and several varieties of bush-ferns.

A smoothly paved road, straight as an arrow, led from the south gate of Olba past the tower on which I stood, and thence to the great, crescent-shaped Olban harbor of Tureno. This was the marine gateway of the capital, whence Emperor Hadjez sent his mighty fleet of trading vessels out over the rolling, steel-blue waters of the mighty Ropok Ocean.

Along this straight, smooth road rumbled great, one-wheeled carts drawn by thirpeds. The body of a Zarovian cart is inside the huge single wheel that carries it, being suspended on an inner idling wheel that keeps it from turning when the outer wheel revolves. There were also one-wheeled motor-driven vehicles that moved over the road with great speed. I saw some with wheels more than twenty feet in diameter, making all of a hundred Earth miles an hour.

One of the guards accompanied me down the telekinetic elevator, which I had not learned to operate, conducted me to the suite Vangal had prepared for me, and bowing low, with right hand extended palm downward, left me alone. I could hear him pacing back and forth in the hall while I studied the patoa scrolls.

As I pored over the translations and pronunciations with keen interest, it seemed to me that I was reading something I had known well, but had forgotten. I tested myself on this and found, to my surprise, that having once read and pronounced a patoan word, I had learned it.

When I told Vorn Vangal about it afterward, he explained that this was because the brain of Zinlo, which had become mine, knew all of these things already. The subjective mind, having once received an impression, records it forever. Thus, having only to tap my subjective mind, I learned instantly. It amazed and overjoyed me.

Long before the afternoon had waned, I had mastered the entire group of lessons which Vorn Vangal had prepared for me. I was eagerly reading a Zarovian book on natural history, when the advent of sudden darkness, so common in tropical and semi-tropical Venus, interrupted my studies. A rap sounded at the door.

"Enter," I said in patoa, eager to try my newly mastered language.

The door slid open, framing the figure of my guard in silhouette against the lighted hall. He entered and pressed a button, flooding the room with soft light. I could not see the points from which the radiance emanated, so cleverly were the fixtures concealed.

"Your Highness's dinner," announced the guard.

Two slaves entered, bearing a huge double-decked tray laden with at least fifty different dishes. A third followed with a small table, and a fourth with gold service and scarlet napery.

Fish, flesh, and fowl were set before me, as well as numerous dishes concocted from mushrooms and other fungi, and countless others whose origin I could not fathom. There was also a colorless, pleasant-tasting beverage which I afterward learned was called "kova," served hot in small bowls. I found it fully as stimulating as strong wine, though with a slightly different effect.

Having dined as became a prince of Olba, I turned once more to my studies.

Late in the evening a second knock sounded at my door, and a new guard admitted a man who was evidently my valet. He busied himself in the adjoining room for a few minutes, then entered and, bowing before me, announced that my bedchamber was ready.

I entered, to behold a sleeping shelf that curved out from the wall like the nest of a cave-swallow. A scarlet canopy fringed with gold projected above it, and the downy, silken coverlets--scarlet lined with golden yellow--had been turned back invitingly.

My valet brought my scarlet sleeping garments, and I wondered at the preponderance of this color; later, I learned that throughout Zarovia scarlet is the exclusive color of royalty.

Though I had grown drowsy over my studies, the novelty of my situation kept me awake. After several hours, I managed to drift off, only to be awakened by a sharp, metallic clang.

The sound seemed to come from the direction of the battlement outside my window, and I listened breathlessly for a repetition. As it was not repeated, I decided that it could have no alarming significance, and was once more composing myself for slumber when I heard a slight rustle as of silken garments only a few feet distant from my head.

Without moving, I opened my eyes and endeavored to penetrate the pitch darkness that enveloped me. Venus has no moon, and in consequence it was fully as dark outside as anywhere in the room; I could not see the window, nor could I have seen any one entering it.

It was plainly evident that there was someone in the room. I thought of Vorn Vangal's warning, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My weapons lay on a low table only a few feet from me, yet I could not move to reach them without making sufficient noise to apprise my stealthy visitor of my whereabouts.

Another rustle, quite near me this time, was followed by the glow of a flashlight which swept the room, rested for a moment on my recumbent form, and then winked out. I sat up suddenly, at the sound of a scarbo drawn stealthily from its sheath not two feet from me.

No sooner had I sat up in bed than there was a whistling sound, followed by a thud, as the keen blade of a scarbo buried itself in the pillow where my head had lain a moment before.

I leaped from the sleeping shelf and fumbled for the light switch while my assailant, with a muttered exclamation of surprise and anger, flashed his torch on the coverlets. Then he whirled it around the room just as I found the switch and turned it.

Both of us were blinded for an instant by the glare of the light. I reached the table and secured my scarbo just in time to ward off his furious attack.

Back and forth we fought across the smooth floor, overturning furniture and tripping on rugs, while the apartment echoed and re-echoed with the clamor of our rapidly moving blades.

I found my assailant a dangerous antagonist; as a swordsman, Vorn Vangal was but a child compared with him. He was dressed in purple raiment trimmed with silver, and wore a heavy black beard.

At first his demeanor was one of sneering disdain; but when he found me able not only to parry his lightning cuts and thrusts, but to return them, measure for measure, a look of wonderment came to his hawk-like features. "Body of Thorth, stripling!" he exclaimed. "You have been practicing with the scarbo since I last saw you."

"I am but practicing now," I replied tauntingly, speaking slowly so that I might not mispronounce the words which came to me so readily.

His face reddened at this, and he redoubled his efforts, his keen blade flashing in shimmering arcs, alike bewildering and deadly. But his anger gave me the opportunity I sought. Whirling his blade on mine, as I had whirled that of Vangal some time before, I wrenched it from his hand and sent it clattering to the floor.

With a startled look he leaped back just in time to avoid a lunge that would have ended our conflict. As he sprang he shouted lustily, "Vinzeth! Maribo! Attend me!"

Two burly ruffians responded to his call, leaping through the window. They were armed with huge, broad-bladed spears and would probably have made quick work of me had not my own retainers burst through the door at my back, having heard the noise of our conflict.

For the moment the tide of battle turned in our favor. Then fresh re-enforcements poured in from outside. The leader had recovered his scarbo, and now they cut my men down until but a handful remained. Though our attackers were not without casualties, we were outnumbered from the start.

Maddened with the lust of battle, I was cutting my way through the spearmen in my endeavor to reach their leader when my tower guards made a sudden charge in response to a sharp order from their commander. At the same instant he plucked at my sleeve.

"The tower is lost, highness," he cried. "The traitors are too many for us. You must flee."

"Never! Let me at these assassins!"

I succeeded in breaking from his grasp, but he seized my arm once more, calling one of the guards to assist him. "Do not compel me to use force, Highness," he pleaded. "I must get you hence at once. To do otherwise would be treason to Your Imperial Sire."

The two of them dragged me through the doorway which they bolted. A moment later we entered the elevator and shot to the top floor, whence we climbed the spiral stairway to the roof. Far below us I heard the door crash inward--proof that the last guardsman had fallen.

They hustled me to the largest of the three airships, opened the door of the cab, and fairly hurled me onto the cushions.

"Raboth will take you to the palace," said the commandant. "I will bolt the door and follow in a one-man craft."

Raboth, a lean wiry youth with a thin, ragged beard, climbed in beside me and closed the door. As soon as he was seated, the ship began to rise--slowly at first, but rapidly gaining momentum until we shot upward with amazing rapidity.

My pilot, looking downward to take his bearings, drew back with a sudden intake of breath. "They have seen us! Two of their battle planes are rising to cut us off from the palace."

Scarcely had he spoken ere a searchlight flashed on our ship. An instant later a bullet ricocheted from our deck, tearing way part of the railing as it exploded. It had been fired from a mattork.

A terrific fusillade followed as we continued our rapid ascent. Suddenly we plunged into a thick cloudbank, shielding us from the revealing glare of the enemy searchlight. Continuing upward for several minutes more we cleared this lower cloud stratum and Raboth immediately put on our forward lights. Then he turned a switch, illuminating the interior of the cab with the radiance of a tiny bulb above our heads.

My pilot leaned forward to examine a small instrument suspended on a thin wire at the front of the cab. "I fear we are lost, Highness," he said, with a look of consternation. "One of the shells must have carried our magnet away. The compass is out of order."

A quick examination proved his statement correct. The magnet, which is fastened to the rear deck of all Olban airships to counteract the strong magnetic pull of the motive mechanism, had been snapped off by one of the mattork bullets. Now the needle pointed to the front of our craft no matter which way we turned.

A sudden glare of light at our backs, followed by the rending impact of a mattork shell on our hull, warned us that the enemy had sighted us. This time we dived into the stratum beneath us and then with level keel, hurtled forward at a pace that held me breathless with wonder.

"How fast are we traveling, Raboth?" I asked, trying to adjust my senses to the sight of cloud masses made iridescent by our lights, and moving past the cab in swift, bewildering kaleidoscopic display.

"This ship is rated at three-quarters of a rotation," he replied. "We are moving at top speed."

"What do you mean by three-quarters of a rotation?"

He seemed astonished at my question. "Why, a rotation is the speed at which Zarovia rotates on her axis. We are traveling three-fourths of that speed."

I made a rapid calculation. As the circumference of Venus is slightly less than that of Earth, and her day twenty-three hours and twenty-one minutes, Earth time, she rotates on her axis at a speed of more than a thousand miles an hour. Roughly, then, we were traveling at seven hundred and fifty miles an hour.

My companion held the ship to her course through the clouds for a considerable period, then dipped beneath them. This move almost resulted in our undoing; the second enemy craft, which had evidently been flying below us all the time, opened fire. I replied with our stern mattork--whether effectively or not, I could not tell--while Raboth again shot our craft up to the concealment afforded by the clouds. Once more we hurtled forward on a level keel.

"Our would-be assassins are certainly persistent," I remarked casually to my companion.

"And well they may be. This is the first time their leader has been recognized. No doubt we are the only two survivors of the fight in the tower, and consequently the only ones able to expose Taliboz."

"Who is this Taliboz?" I asked thoughtlessly.

"Is it possible that Your Highness does not remember Taliboz? He is the most powerful noble in Olba. For some time it has been hinted that he was conspiring against the throne, but there was no direct evidence. Now he must kill us all--both to do away with the heir to the throne, and to silence the witnesses of his perfidy."

We sped along for some time in silence. I calculated that if we had traveled in a reasonably straight line we were at least a thousand miles from our starting point. At length, feeling that we must have shaken our pursuers, Raboth once more descended beneath the lower stratum, taking the precaution of switching off all lights as he did so.

He looked about carefully, saw no sign of pursuit, and made the fatal mistake of turning on the lights. Scarcely had he done this ere a missile crashed through the back of the cab and exploded with a deafening noise. It struck on Raboth's side and killed him instantly, tearing his body to shreds.

Our lights were extinguished by the explosion, but a powerful searchlight played on us from behind and another shell carried away our stern. Then the craft lurched violently and fell, turning end-over-end while I clung desperately to my seat.

CHAPTER III

As THE wreck hurtled downward it gathered momentum each instant, and I expected nothing less than a terrific crash. To my surprise, however, the craft plunged nose first into water and sank rapidly. The cabin filled instantly through the great hole, torn by the mattork shell; but this same hole proved to be my salvation, for after the first cold shock of immersion was past I managed to scramble through it.

For several seconds I continued to sink in spite of my frantic efforts, due to the downward momentum of the craft I had just left. Then I stopped, and slowly began to make some progress upward, though it seemed at every stroke that my lungs must burst for want of oxygen.

After what seemed an age of lung-straining torture, my head bobbed above the surface, and I trod water while inhaling great breaths of the moist, salt air.

In the blackness of the Zarovian night, broken only at infrequent intervals by the momentary twinkle of a star or two through a rift in the ever-present cloud envelope overhead, I was unable to see in any direction. But I heard a familiar sound, far to my right--the roll of breakers on a windward shore. Toward this sound I swam slowly.

The sound grew louder as I progressed, and presently I lowered an exploring foot to find the bottom. Not reaching it, I swam onward once more. The second test proved more successful, and I stood erect, only to be knocked flat by a huge wave. I scrambled to my feet and, half wading, half swimming, at length dragged my weary body up on a sandy beach beyond reach of the breakers.

After a brief rest I arose and walked still farther inland, where I soon ran into a thick copse of bush-fern. The ground beneath the curved fronds was covered with moss, and on this I stretched, thankful for so soft a couch. In a short time, I was asleep.

I was awakened by the sound of voices quite near me. It was broad daylight and promised to be an exceptionally warm day. My silky scarlet garments had long since dried, as had my leather trappings, which had stiffened as a result of their soaking.

I judged from the tones that two people were conversing--a man and a girl. At first I did not hear what they said as I lay there on the soft moss only half awake, looking drowsily up through the rustling, wind-shaken fern leaves. Then the man raised his voice.

"Well you know, Cousin Loralie, that your parents desire the marriage as much as mine," he said in mincing patoa. "Is this not enough for you? Are you so lacking in respect for the wishes of your father and mother that you would set them aside for an idle whim?"

"Not for an idle whim, Cousin Gadrimel," replied the girl in a clear, musical voice. "I do not love you. What more need be said?"

"How do you know?" he demanded. "Yesterday we saw each other for the first time. We had but a few moments alone. I have not more than touched your hand. I could make you love me as I have..."

"As you have countless others, no doubt. Understand me, once and for all. No man can make me love him, nor could I make myself love any man, even if I desired to do so as a matter of filial duty."

Not wishing to play the part of an eavesdropper, however unintentional, I stood up, intending to offer my apologies and take my departure. As I did so I heard a muttered, "We'll see," from the man, followed by the sound of a struggle and a little scream of fear.

Pushing my way through the shrubbery, I came out on a moss-covered sward in the middle of which played an ornate fountain. Just beyond the fountain I saw a girl struggling to free herself from the embrace of a tall blond youth, whose yellow beard had just begun to grow. Both wore the scarlet of royalty.

"Let me go, you beast!" The girl's big brown eyes were flashing--her disheveled, dark brown ringlets flying as she struggled to free herself. Even in anger she was beautiful--more beautiful than any woman I have seen on three planets.

I sprang forward, seized the youth by the collar, and twisting it said, "If you are bent on wrestling this morning, Prince Gadrimel, permit me to offer you a more even match."

He released the girl and tried to turn, whereupon I twisted his collar the tighter. Then he reached for his tork, but I seized his wrist and bent it up behind his back. At this he began to bellow for the guard, whereupon I sent him crashing headfirst into the fern-brake.

I turned and bowed to the girl, who was still flushed and panting from her struggle. "Your Highness's pardon, if I intrude. It appeared to me that you were being annoyed."

"You were right, and I am indebted to you, Prince...?"

"Prince Zinlo of Olba," I finished for her, "at your service."

"I am the Princess Loralie of Tyrhana," she replied with a smile that revealed two adorable dimples. "Pray tell me..."

Our conversation was interrupted by the youth, who, after extricating himself from the bushes, rushed between us with drawn scarbo.

"Body and bones of Thorth," he snarled. "You have sealed your death warrant, Prince Zinlo."

Then he made a slash at me that would have severed my head from my body had I not leaped back. As I did so, I drew my own blade and engaged him. Finding in a moment that he was no master of fence, I disarmed him--then retrieved his weapon before he had time to recover from his amazement.

"You have dropped your scarbo," I said. "Permit me." And I presented it to him, hilt first.

Again he lunged at me, and again I disarmed him, with as much ease as before--then leaped and picked up his weapon before he could reach it.

"Perhaps I had better keep this," I said. "You seem so unfamiliar with its use that you may injure yourself."

He reached for his tork, but I was expecting this, and with a quick slash cut his belt. The weapon fell onto the soft moss, and I kicked it into the shrubbery.

He cringed as if expecting the death blow, then suddenly looked beyond me, exclaiming, "By the sixteen kingdoms of Reabon! Look behind you!"

Thinking it a trick, I did not look until I heard a scream from Princess Loralie and the clank of weapons. Then I whirled, and saw her struggling in the grip of a purple-clad noble whom I instantly recognized as my opponent of the tower--Taliboz! An Olban airship resting on the ground behind him explained his presence here. Four burly warriors were rushing toward me with drawn scarbos.

"It seems that we have some real fighting to do," I said to Gadrimel, tossing him his weapon. He caught it, and came manfully enough to guard, just as the four armed retainers of Taliboz bore down on us. I crouched low and extended my point as my first assailant made a vicious swing at my neck.

He died on my blade with an ear-piercing shriek, and I wrenched it free just as my second assailant came up. This fellow was not only more wary, but quite expert with the scarbo. He laid my cheek open with a quick cut just as I was coming on guard. His second blow was aimed at my legs, and would have mowed me down as grain is cut had I not leaped back. As it was, the point of his weapon raked my thigh.

Stung by the pain of my two wounds, I forgot my swordsmanship for the moment, and brought my blade straight down in a blow which he should have easily parried. It was the unexpected clumsiness of the stroke which told, as he did not come on guard in time; my blade divided his head as cleanly as a knife divides a Zarovian spore-pod.

Over at my left, Prince Gadrimel was sorely beset by the other two ruffians. His face and body were bloody as my own, yet he gave them back blow for blow and thrust for thrust. But he was plainly weakening. With the princess being carried off, there was no time for the niceties of dueling, and I felt no compunction about leaping up behind his nearest assailant and striking off his head. The other, seeing the blow, turned to face me; but to his own undoing, for he left Gadrimel the opening he sought. With a quick slash the prince disemboweled him.

"Come," I snapped, dashing toward the airship. "We must rescue the princess from that fiend."

He followed close at my heels, but we had not covered more than half the distance to the airship when it began to rise. Then a mattork projectile screamed past our heads, exploding in the shrubbery behind us, followed by another and another. We took shelter behind the marble rim of the fountain, and Taliboz's bombardment ceased.

The cannonading was suddenly resumed; but this time it came from the castle behind us. The castle guards, evidently believing themselves attacked by the Olban ship, were returning its fire with a vengeance.

Gadrimel and I both rose from our hiding place, and he shouted, "Don't shoot! The princess is on board."

The firing ceased, but too late, for the airship, its motive mechanism put out of commission by a mattork shell, was falling into the bay. I watched breathlessly as it hurtled downward, expecting to see it plunge beneath the water as my own had done the night before; but, to my astonishment, two parachutes flew upward from the fore and aft decks and effectively broke its fall. It alighted on an even keel with a great splash that nearly capsized a small sailing vessel anchored near by. Sinking no deeper than its deck railing, it rose again to ride the waves as evenly as if it had been built especially for the purpose.

Washed shoreward, it drifted closer and closer to the small sailing vessel while Gadrimel and I rushed down to the shore. Then, as we stood helplessly watching, a dozen armed men swarmed into the sailing vessel from the airship. The sailors instantly dived over the opposite side and swam for shore. The last man to step into the captured ship was the purple-clad Taliboz, carrying in his arms the limp form of Princess Loralie.

"To the docks!" shouted Gadrimel, racing madly off to the right. "They are raising the sails!"

As I hurried along, I saw the sails go up, billowing in the breeze, while four of Taliboz's men at the prow hoisted the anchor.

Gadrimel and I rounded a bend in the wooded shore line, and a crescent of docks to which several hundred ships were moored came into view. At the same time, the vessel which Taliboz had captured, with all sails up and anchor hoisted, veered about in the considerable breeze and made swiftly for the open sea.

A party of soldiers from the castle had reached the dock ahead of us. With them was a tall, broad-shouldered figure in the scarlet of royalty, whose grizzled beard was cut off square below the chin, and whose regal countenance was empurpled with anger.

"It's my father, Emperor Aardvan of Adonijar," said Gadrimel.

"Prepare six warships for pursuit, at once," I heard Aardvan shout.

A thousand men hurried to carry out his orders.

As we approached this commanding individual, the prince and I both bowed low, with right hands extended palm downward, in the universal Zarovian salute to royalty. I was struck by the contrast between this brawny, bull-necked emperor and his mincing, effeminate son.

Aardvan, glaring down at us, roared, "Two brawling princelings, all spattered with blood. What did you do? Scratch each other like a couple of marmelot cubs? Who is your playmate, Gadrimel? Were those his men who carried off the princess?"

"This is Torrogi Zinlo of Olba, Your Majesty," replied Gadrimel.

"The Imperial Crown Prince of Olba! What does he here?"

I explained briefly.

"We slew four men, sire," boasted Gadrimel.

"I've heard of this Taliboz," growled Aardvan. "A traitorous and dangerous fellow. You are welcome to Adonijar, Prince Zinlo. Stay as long as you like, and when you are ready to depart I'll send a guard of honor to accompany you to your own country."

"With your majesty's permission," I said, "I should prefer to accompany the fleet which is preparing to follow Taliboz."

"That will be as Gadrimel says," rumbled his father. "He will command the fleet."

"Come along," said Gadrimel. "Our private quarrel can wait. For the present we have common interests, and your blade may be needed."

A gray-bearded naval officer came running up and saluted.

"What is it, Rogvoz?" inquired Emperor Aardvan.

"The fleet is ready, Your Majesty," replied the officer.

"Then let's be off," said Gadrimel.

We hurried aboard one of the six vessels, all of which swarmed with armed men, accompanied by the gray-bearded officer. A few moments later, with all sails set, the fleet plowed out of the harbor in pursuit of the small fishing boat, which was now but a speck on the horizon.

CHAPTER IV

The tiny sailboat in which my mortal enemy, Taliboz, was carrying off the Princess Loralie, was making steadily northeast toward Olba with our six battleships in hot pursuit, when suddenly I saw her come about and head directly south.

Gadrimel, Admiral Rogvoz and I were watching together on the forward deck of the flagship. The admiral stared for a minute through his long glass. Then he carefully scanned the horizon toward the northeast.

"They have good reasons for turning," he announced excitedly. "A great ordzook approaches from the north!"

He passed the glass to Gadrimel, who looked for a moment, then with an exclamation of horror, passed it on to me.

When I had adjusted the glass to suit my vision, I saw a most fearsome sight. Not more than a half mile behind the small sailboat, and gaining on it rapidly, a gigantic and terrible head projected from the water, swinging on a thick arched neck. The head alone was half as long as the sailboat it pursued; and although the body was submerged, I could see, at intervals of fifteen to twenty feet, sharp spines flashing intermittently above the waves to a distance of fully a hundred feet behind the head.

"Do you think we can save them, Rogvoz?" asked Gadrimel.

"We can but try, Highness," replied the admiral. "It is doubtful." He turned to the captain of the boat. "Order the mattork crews to start firing on the ordzook, and signal all other captains to do likewise."

The captain shouted his orders to the waiting cannon crews, and a moment later the din of these rapid-fire weapons was terrific. From the high forward deck our signal man meanwhile busied himself semaphoring with two huge disks, one red the other yellow. The other ships immediately opened fire with their mattorks, adding to the deafening noise which our own ship had started.

We were approaching closer to the marine monster now, as the path of the fishing boat crossed our own. I could see the ordzook turn from time to time, snapping at the stinging mattork projectiles as they struck the spiny ridges of its undulating scaly body, which was a shimmering, bluish-green in color. The head and neck were a brilliant shade of yellow, except where neck and shoulders joined, for at this point a broad band of scarlet formed a flaming ring--a danger signal which all creatures might beware.

The speed of the mighty amphibian was impeded by its constant turning to snap at its wounds, enabling the small boat containing Taliboz and Loralie to gain on it gradually.

Suddenly changing its course, the monster wheeled and swam toward our fleet. "To the right!" called Rogvoz. "Veer to the right!"

The ship on which we stood came about suddenly, her starboard rail for a moment submerged beneath the waves. All hands grabbed for such fixed objects as they could cling to.

Behind us trailed the fleet, and on came the ordzook, not stopping now to snap futilely at the stinging projectiles, but bent on more deadly action.

With all the port mattorks trained on the monster, I thought to see it go into a death struggle at any moment, but the projectiles seemed merely to irritate it. We were so close in a few moments that I could see its relatively tiny jet black eyes, set just above the corners of the great gaping mouth which was filled with a formidable array of saw-edged teeth.

We passed it safely, as did the second, third, fourth and fifth boats, but the last of the fleet, lagging behind because of improper manipulation of its sails, could not escape.

The enormous yellow head reared upward for an instant on the arched, spiny neck. Then, with formidable jaws distended, it struck downward at the fore deck. The captain of the ship and three of his men standing with him disappeared into the huge maw along with most of the deck on which they stood.

Again and again the creature struck at the doomed craft, until sails, masts, men, and most of the upper works were gone. Then it reared upward in the water and came down with a tremendous crash on the middle of the defenseless hulk. Broken in two by the terrific impact, both halves of the ship sank almost instantly, and the fearful creature which had wrought this destruction before our eyes plunged into the waves after them. Nor did we see it more.

Once more we turned our attention to the boat containing Taliboz and the princess. Hemmed off from Olba by our five vessels, they were now sailing due south at a speed apparently equaling our own, for as time passed the distance between us did not seem appreciably to alter.

Because of the presence of Princess Loralie on board the fishing boat we were constrained to withhold our mattork fire, with which otherwise we could soon have brought Taliboz to terms. He fired no shots, either, except a few stray projectiles from the torks, which led us to believe that he had not salvaged any mattorks from his wrecked airship.

As we sailed southward over the blue-gray waters of the Ropok Ocean, the point of land on which the city of Adonijar is situated receded from view, and in all directions showed only a cloud-lined sky meeting and almost blending with the rolling waters.

But even this vast expanse of sky and sea was not a lonely place. It teemed with life of a thousand varieties--with creatures of striking beauty and of the most terrifying ugliness. Quite near our boat several large white birds with red-tipped wings and long, sharply curved beaks skimmed the water in search of food. Mighty flying reptiles, some with wingspreads of more than sixty feet, soared high in the air, scanning the water until they saw such prey as suited them; then, folding their webbed wings, they plunged with terrific speed, to emerge with struggling prey and leisurely flap away.

With the advent of sudden darkness, common to tropical and semi-tropical Zarovia, bright searchlights flashed out from the mast-heads of the entire fleet, and the boat we pursued was thus kept in sight.

While these lights were an absolute necessity in the blackness of the moonless Zarovian night, they were also a nuisance, as they attracted to the vessel countless droves of flying creatures, mostly reptilian; many of them, blinded by the bright beams, flew against masts, sails or rigging and fell, squawking, croaking or hissing to the deck. Some of them, infuriated and only partly crippled or stunned, menaced our lives until dispatched and tossed overboard.

After several hours I grew weary and retired for the night. Despite the constantly repeated disturbances above deck and the frequent colliding of the craft with some marine monster, I soon fell asleep.

I was awakened late the following morning by Prince Gadrimel's valet, who insisted on ministering to my wants as became a prince of the blood imperial. After a breakfast of stewed mushrooms and succulent grilled fish, washed down with a bowl of steaming kova, I went on deck where I found Gadrimel and Rogvoz in consultation.

"They swing gradually but surely toward the southwest, Highness," said Rogvoz as I came up. "They are trying to circle us and sail once more toward Olba."

"Is there no way we can prevent their doing this?" asked Gadrimel.

"We can only follow them so that their circle must be so large that they will be cornered by land."

I took up the glass which he had put down in order to make some calculations, and focused it on the ship we were pursuing. On the rear deck I made out the slim figure of the princess, who also held a telescope in her hand. She raised it a moment later, and I saw that it was pointed at our ship. I waved my left arm.

Her reply was instantaneous, as her shapely white arm flashed above her head. Then I saw Taliboz, glowering with rage, come up behind her, wrench the glass from her grasp and with significant gestures order her forward. With little head held high, she defied him, but he grasped her wrist and dragged her away. As she disappeared from view, I lowered my glass, and Gadrimel, who had evidently been watching me, said, "Beard of Thorth, Prince Zinlo! Your usually serene and smiling countenance has suddenly become as stormy and forbidding as the Azpok at change of seasons. What have you seen?"

"Enough," I replied, "to make me long for the day when I can once more meet Taliboz face-to-face, scarbo in hand!"

For five days we followed in tormenting nearness, sometimes close enough to be within hailing distance, sometimes so far back that we feared to lose them. It was late on the fifth day that a lookout at the masthead above us suddenly shouted: "Land! Land!"

Instantly Gadrimel, Rogvoz and I rushed to the foredeck. Taliboz, now hemmed in from all sides by our fleet, was doing the only thing left for him to do, steering directly for a sheltered inlet. He rounded a curve in the shore line, disappearing from view, and some time later, when we sailed into the inlet, we saw his craft beached.

Rogvoz, who had the glass, exclaimed, "The fool! The utter fool! To escape us he plunges into worse danger, dragging the princess with him. We, at least, would not eat him."

"What do you mean?" demanded Gadrimel.

"Just now I saw the entire party disappear into the fern forest."

"But this danger you mention. What is it?"

"I had forgotten, Highness, that you are unfamiliar with this part of Zarovia. This is the land of the terrible, flesh-eating cave-apes--huge creatures, any one of which is said to be a match for a dozen men, but with intelligence far greater than that of other apes. Some of the few men who have landed here and had the good fortune to escape them say they not only have a peculiar clucking language of their own but can also speak patoa."

"We must catch up to them quickly," I cried.

The five ships were brought up as close to the sloping, sandy beach as was safe, then boats were lowered. Soon a force of five hundred fighting men stood on shore.

After a short consultation, it was decided that we should form a long line, the men keeping about ten feet apart, and so enter the forest in the direction which Taliboz had taken. This line, if kept unbroken, would form a great net nearly a mile across in which the fugitives, we felt sure, must inevitably be snared. Rogvoz took charge of the extreme left end of the line, Gadrimel directed the center, and I had charge of the extreme right end.

Tripping over clinging creepers, floundering through sticky morasses, cutting our way through matted, tangled ropelike vines which hung downward from the mighty branches of the tree-ferns, and constantly slapping at the biting and stinging insect pests which abounded in these lowlands, we soon found ourselves progressing with exasperating slowness.

Not only did the vegetable and insect world seek to detain us, there was the menace of animals and reptiles as well. A giant whistling serpent--a hideous creature fully forty feet in length, with long, upright ears and sharp spines the full length of its back--struck down one of our men and succeeded in killing two others before it was finally dispatched by the bullets from a score of torks.

Soon the men had banded in groups of about twenty each for mutual protection.

The group nearest us lost three men to a ramph, a great hairless bearlike creature, whose scaly hide was a brilliant chlorophyl green above, fading to a greenish yellow below. After they had slain it they fell to with their scarbos, cutting it up and bearing portions of the meat with them, for ramph steaks were considered the most delicious meat on Zarovia.

Some time near noon, my party was attacked by a marmelot, a vicious feline fully as large as a terrestrial draft horse, its hairless, scaly hide a mottled orange and black, its great saber tusks fully a foot in length. Seven of our men were slain by this, one of the fiercest of the Zarovian jungle creatures, before it was dispatched.

Brave men were these soldiers of Adonijar; in spite of the sudden death which hovered over us in these tangled jungles, they cut their way forward without grumbling or word of turning back.

Because they had stopped to cut up the ramph they had slain, we had lost sight of the party next to us, and it was not until darkness suddenly descended that I thought to communicate with them. I called out to them then to halt, but received no reply. Again I called at the top of my voice, but there was no answer.

"Remain here," I told my men, "and I will go and find them. They cannot be far away."

Glad for a rest after their arduous march, the group quickly cleared a place for a fire, and got out their kova and provisions to prepare their evening meal.

I then set out in the direction which I felt sure would lead me to the next group of warriors, flashing my light ahead of me. I must have traveled for at least two miles, shouting from time to time without receiving any reply, when suddenly I heard a quavering, mournful howl from the darkness at my right.

Swinging my light around in the direction of the noise, I saw three huge, slinking forms and three pairs of blazing eyes. They slightly resembled terrestrial wolves, but were fully twice as large as any wolves that ever lived on Earth. Their scaly hides were slate gray in color, and each had a ruff of long, sharp spines which stood out around the neck like a spiked collar. Upon describing them later, I learned that they were awoos--so called, no doubt, because of their doleful, nerve-racking cries.

Swinging my tork into line, I instantly brought down the foremost beast, whereupon the others crouched, disappearing from view. Howl after howl resounded from all directions. They began to close in on me.

I whirled this way and that, and where the light was caught by the glowing eyes of the wary creatures, my tork spat death, but I soon saw that it was a hopeless fight. It seemed that as soon as I killed or wounded one creature, two more stepped in to take its place.

There was nothing left for me to do but to climb into the branches above me, hoping they would be unable to follow. Accordingly I swarmed up one of the trailing, rope-like vines which hung from the mighty fronds of a tree-fern fully sixty feet above my head, and soon found myself in a huge leaf crown which afforded a temporary resting place.

The howling chorus below was terrible to hear. The pack, now more than a hundred in number, milled about the base of the tree while the more impatient of the creatures leaped up, snapping and snarling. Time and again I used my tork, littering the ground with their carcasses, but the dead brutes were instantly replaced by others.

Wondering how long this sort of thing would last, I was slipping a fresh clip of gas and one of projectiles into my weapon when I heard a rustle of the leaves above me. Glancing upward, I beheld a huge gorilla-like face surmounting a mighty chest fully three feet across. Then a great hairy hand descended on my head with terrific force, and I lost consciousness.

CHAPTER V

When I had once more become aware of my surroundings, I was lying in semi-darkness on a cold stone floor. The top of my head was bruised and tender, and my neck so lame that a sharp twinge of pain shot through it each time I turned my head to look about. The belt, to which my tork and scarbo had been fastened, was gone.

I sat up, and my brain swam dizzily for a moment. My vision cleared presently, and I saw that the source of the light which but faintly illuminated the spot I occupied was a jagged opening--evidently the mouth of a huge cave.

Quite close to me on my left, I became aware that some creature was breathing heavily, apparently in sleep. Turning, I beheld the recumbent form of a gigantic hairy female--head pillowed on arm, and knees drawn up as if for warmth, sleeping not four feet from me.

The face was neither ape nor human, but partook of the characteristics of both. The form, slender of waist, full-breasted and broad-hipped, was more like that of a human female than a she-ape, though covered with short, reddish-brown hair. The limbs were not ungraceful, but the toes were long and evidently prehensile. I judged that the creature, when standing erect, must be at least eight feet in height and so powerfully muscled as to be a formidable antagonist.

Stealthily I stood erect, then tiptoed toward the mouth of the cave. I had not taken more than a dozen steps when something tripped me and I fell headlong to the jagged floor. At the same time there came the sound of a fearful growl behind me.

Before I could scramble to my feet I was pounced upon from behind and jerked erect. Then, with my arms pinioned behind me by two powerful hairy hands, I was marched out into the sunlight. Looking up, to the considerable inconvenience of my injured neck, I saw that my captor was the big female who had been sleeping so peacefully a moment before. She had been awakened by a thin but exceedingly tough twisted string of gut, tied to my ankle and her wrist.

We were high up on a rugged hillside which seemed honeycombed with caves. In the valley far below us, I saw the waving fronds of huge tree-ferns above the tangled mass of jungle vegetation.

"So, food-man, you would escape Chixa, and thus have Chixa slain," said my captor in a peculiar, clucking patoa.

"It is high time you were taken before Rorg. Perhaps he is hungry."

"Release my wrists," I replied, "and I'll be glad to go with you before Rorg. Who is he, and what has his hunger to do with me?"

"Rorg is the king, the Rogo of the Cave-Apes." The tall female released my wrists and stepped up beside me, taking a firm grip on my right arm. "If he is hungry he may want to eat you."

"What makes you think I will be good to eat?" I asked.

"I have tasted the flesh of many food-men, and most of it is good, though it is sometimes too salty. Are you very salty?"

"Very. I'm afraid your ruler would be displeased."

"If you are very salty he will be greatly pleased," said Chixa. "He likes salty food-men, though I do not."

About the furry waist of my captor there was a string like the one bound to my ankle. Swinging from this string on the side opposite me, by a short hook in the handle, was a weapon I greatly coveted.

It was a club of hard wood about three feet in length, shaped something like the blade of an oar, but thicker and heavier, and pointed at the end. Set in the two edges of this club were small bits of sharp flint which gave it a formidable saw-like appearance. It was heavy enough to crush a skull or break a limb, and sharp enough to lacerate the toughest muscle. A large flint knife also swung between her breasts from a cord around her neck.

The cave-ape walking beside me was in some ways like a woman, and because of that faint similarity I hesitated for a moment to carry out the plan which had come to me. But life has ever been dear to me--even though I love adventure so greatly that I have risked death in many terrible forms on three planets--so my hesitation was but momentary.

Suddenly turning with my right arm bent at the elbow, I put all my weight in a blow that landed in the furry solar plexus. With a terrible sound--half scream, half roar--my tall captor clasped her hands to her abdomen and bent over. As she did so I pivoted the other way with a left to the point of her jaw, and she fell unconscious at my feet.

Quickly slipping the knife cord from around her neck, I sawed the gut tether from my ankle. Then I seized the club which dangled from her belt, and looked about me for the most likely avenue of escape.

To my surprise and horror, I saw that there was none, for at the sound of Chixa's voice, the caves had suddenly spewed forth not less than a thousand of these gigantic creatures, all armed as I now was, with flint knives and sawedged clubs. The mature females varied in height from seven to nine feet and the males from ten to twelve.

Those nearest me had spied me as I got to my feet, and now approached menacingly from all sides with bared fangs and low, throaty growls--the males displaying long, downcurving tusks which greatly increased their ferocious appearance.

With the club held swordlike in my right hand, and the flint knife gripped in my left, I leaped for a great leaning boulder, one side of which could afford me protection from above and behind.

A huge tusked male sprang forward to bar my progress, and swung his saw-edged club in a terrific blow. He was fully eleven feet in height, and towering above me as he did, offered no opportunity for quick club work.

There was, however, a chance to use the knife, which I did without compunction. Leaping beneath his swinging arms, I buried it in the right side of his abdomen and ripped him across the belly. While he swayed drunkenly, I completed my rush to the temporary protection of the boulder, and as I turned with my back against it to meet the attack of the others, I saw him topple to the ground.

A moment later I was confronted by a semicircle of growling, roaring cave-apes, swinging their clubs menacingly, but a little different about approaching me too closely--probably because of what had happened to their companion. Mixed with the growling and roaring I could distinctly hear the patoan words "kill" and "meat," which sounded ominous enough.

The great tusked males seemed to be working themselves into a frenzy of fury as they came closer and closer--evidently their primitive way of attempting to overcome their fear of me.

Presently one leaped out ahead of the closing line, and swung his club for my head with a terrific downward, twohanded stroke. I stepped to the left, and forward, and as his club was shattered on the stone where I had been standing, the flinty edge of my own bit deeply into his cervical vertebrae. He fell on his face without a sound.

I sprang to a new position, brandishing my club menacingly, and the line of attackers moved back a little.

"Kill! Kill!" The word was repeated constantly now as the savage semicircle closed in once more.

"Come and be killed!" I replied.

"You will be next to die, food-man," roared a huge male who stood near the center of the line, "for Urg is about to kill you." Urg stood at least twelve feet in height, a head taller than the other males in the front line, and his great downcurving tusks, fully seven inches in length, gave him a most ferocious aspect.

He seemed about to spring forward, and I had braced myself for his attack, when there was a sudden commotion behind him. The milling crowd of apes drew back respectfully to make way for a huge male, taller and heavier even than Urg.

Just behind him walked two young females, one waving a fern frond to keep annoying insects away from him, while the other carried a huge gourd-like fungus with a bottle neck and a bowl made from a split sporepod. Behind these two walked more ape-maidens, some carrying fresh meat, while others bore bowls heaped high with fragments of edible fungi or sporepods, cracked, and ready for eating.

Coming up behind Urg, the newcomer carelessly pushed him aside and stood in the front line, surveying me with apparent boredom. At this, Urg gave a low growl, whereupon the larger ape smote him in the mouth.

"Growl again at Rorg, and you will feel the weight of his club."

"I did not know it was Rorg who pushed me," replied Urg.

"Why do you hesitate before this little food-man?" asked Rorg. "Do you fear him?"

"Of course not," answered Urg. "I was playing with him. I was about to kill him when you came up."

"I believe you fear him," continued Rorg. "I notice he slew your brother, Arg, who was as good a fighter as you. This is unusual for a food-man. He must be a mighty warrior among his people. It shall be for Rorg, mightiest of the cave-apes, to slay him."

"It is my right to kill him," growled Urg, "for he slew my brother."

"He will be killed when and how I ordain, for I am king." He swung on me once more. "Who are you, food-man," he asked, "and how did you slay my people?"

"I am Zinlo," I replied, "and I slew your people with the weapons of Chixa which I took from her."

"How could you take Chixa's weapons from her?" asked Rorg incredulously. "Why, she is ten times as strong as you. I do not believe it. Chixa gave you her weapons, so Chixa shall be slain."

"Chixa lies unconscious on the ground, Rorg," clucked a female. "This food-man must have taken her weapons by force."

"Chixa is feigning and shall be slain," said Rorg. "Such a thing would not be possible. Go and slay her, Urg."

All this time I had been standing guardedly, saying nothing; but when it became apparent that the female ape was about to be killed through no fault of her own, but because of something I had done, I felt a wave of pity for her. Brute and man-eater though she was, she had been considerate of me. After all, she was something like a woman.

"Rorg," I said, "I did not lie about taking her weapons from her, and I can prove it."

"How?"

"By taking the weapons from your strongest warrior in the same manner."

"Can you take Urg's weapons from him?" asked Rorg.

"Of course."

"Then you must be very strong or very clever. I like clever food-men. Sometimes I keep them for a long while when they are exceedingly clever. When they fail to amuse me they die. Let me see you take Urg's weapons, and I will spare your life for today, at least."

"But what of Chixa?"

"I will spare her life, also."

"Good. I will need plenty of room, and I demand your promise that I will not be attacked by any one other than Urg."

"You will have plenty of room, and you have my word that you will not be attacked or interfered with," said Rorg.

"Move back, then, all of you," I said, "until I tell you to stop."

The crowd drew back until the front line was a hundred feet from the rock in all directions.

"That is enough. Now, Urg, come here and I will take your weapons. I will go unarmed, and you must not have your weapons in your hands. You will walk beside me as if I were your prisoner fastened to a tether." With this I dropped weapons to the ground.

"It is a trick," growled Urg, but at Rorg's command he hung his flint knife around his neck, and hooked his club in the string around his waist. As the brute lumbered up beside me, and I saw what a mighty tower of strength he was, I must confess that I felt considerable doubt about being able to knock him out.

He strode along beside me, his great arms swinging at his sides. I timed my swing for the instant when the great paw nearest me was back, leaving the abdomen unguarded. Then I pivoted, landing my right fist in his solar plexus--all the force I could muster behind it.

With a grunt of surprise, he doubled forward as Chixa had done; but before I could swing for his jaw, he stood erect once more and reached for his club. His chin, by this time, was so high in the air that I could not reach it, and he had his plexus covered by his great forearm; there was nothing I could do with my fists. His shins; however, were exposed; I kicked the right one with my sandaled foot.

Uttering a howl of pain, he raised his foot and launched it at me, whereupon I grasped it with both hands, and twisting it with a sudden jerk that caused the bones to creak, turned his toes downward and his heel upward at the same time. This turned him completely around, and a quick push sent him on his face.

Before he could scramble erect, I leaped on his back, planting a heavy blow just beneath his ear. He shook himself in an effort to dislodge me, but I grasped one of his tusks with my left hand, and with my legs wrapped around him, continued to hammer him behind the furry ear.

Standing erect, he bellowed angrily, and releasing his grip on his club, grasped my left arm in his huge right hand. Wrenching my hand away from his tusk, he jerked me forward over his left shoulder and threw me to the ground fully twenty feet away. Fortunately for me, I alighted on my feet, and although I stumbled and fell, was unhurt.

I saw Urg coming toward me, but he reeled drunkenly.

Quickly springing to my feet, I leaped forward, whereupon he jerked his club from his belt and made a wild swing for my head. As his momentum bent him forward, I dodged, and leaping in, planted a blow in his right eye. He straightened, and I struck him in the solar plexus once more.

This time he doubled up, exposing his jaw, on which I planted a crashing right hook. Once more he stood erect, tottering unsteadily, and once more I doubled him up with a plexus blow, getting in a left to the jaw. He fell on his face as I sprang out of his way, finishing him with a blow behind the ear.

I slipped the knife cord from around his neck, and picked up the great saw-edged club which he had dropped. Then I leaped upon his back, and with one foot on his neck, brandished the weapons aloft, while a great howl went up from the mob around me.

From his place in the center of the line, Rorg walked slowly toward me, attended only by the female with the fern frond. I stepped down from the prostrate body of Urg as he approached, and slung the knife about my neck, also hooking the club in my belt. "Are you convinced?" I asked.

"I am convinced," replied Rorg. "You are clever enough to be kept alive for a while, and Chixa shall be spared."

It was then I noticed a gold bangle about Rorg's wrist. I saw that it was stamped with the coat of arms of Taliboz, and it followed that this must have belonged to one of his retainers.

"Where did you get the man who wore that bangle?" I asked.

"My warriors captured him with twelve other food-men, and a food-woman. We have eaten them all, except one man who is very clever, and the woman, who is very beautiful."

"Do you know the name of this clever food-man?" I asked.

"His servants called him Lord Taliboz," was the reply.

"And the food-woman?"

"A royal princess, fit only for royalty. I intend to wed her at the beginning of the next endir. Although I should like to wed her sooner, I will not depart from the customs and traditions of my forefathers, who married but one wife at a time and her at the beginning of each endir, thus taking but ten mates a year. I had intended Chixa for my next wife, but now she will have to wait for another endir."

"Is it customary for cave-apes to mate with food-people?"

"It is not," replied Rorg, "but we have no old law against it. I make all the new laws, and I have decreed that, hereafter, all Rogos of the Cave-Apes may marry food-women if they choose to do so."

"I have a great curiosity to see this food-man who is so clever and this beautiful food-woman," I said.

"You shall see them," replied Rorg. "Come with me. I want you to do some more clever tricks, anyway, to amuse my wives and children."

As I strolled away with Rorg I saw Urg stir slightly, then roll over and sit up, after which he tenderly felt his bruised jaw and the battered spot behind his ear.

CHAPTER VI

Rorg and I climbed high up the mountainside while his female attendants and the mob of cave-apes which had been so bent on killing me scrambled after us.

We were ascending the tallest peak of a chain of mountains which extended toward the north and south, their rugged slopes partly concealed by the various strata of gray clouds which floated lazily westward. And these mountains, as far as I could see, swarmed with cave-apes.

As we mounted steadily upward we passed many ape families, some of which were breakfasting while others appeared to be starting out on their morning quest for food. Tiny helpless infant apes were at their mothers' breasts. Spindle-legged, round-bellied ape children played about on the rocky slopes, or gnawed at bones, scraps of meat, edible fungi, and sporepods.

All of them, from babes to adults, watched me with their beady black eyes as I passed, but none made a hostile move or sound, evidently because of the awesome presence of Rorg.

At length we climbed over the rim of what had once been an active volcanic crater. It was shallow, filled with the litter of centuries. In the center a volcanic cone projected upward, and toward this we made our way across the debris-strewn crater floor. The walls of the crater, I noticed, were honeycombed with caves.

Enormous male apes, some of them nearly as large as Rorg, patrolled the rim of the crater, their saw-edged clubs swinging in their hairy paws. With these alert sentries always on duty, it was plain that escape from the crater would be most difficult and dangerous.

As we drew near to the mouth of the great central cave a number of females and young ones of assorted ages and sizes came out.

"These are my wives and children," said Rorg. "If you are as clever as I think you are, you will find a way to amuse them."

"I will find a way," I promised, "but first let me see this clever food-man and beautiful food-woman of whom you have told me."

"I will send for them at once."

Searching in the debris near the cave mouth, I picked up two well-dried finger bones which looked exactly alike. Palming one and displaying the other as I stood with my face to the audience and my back to the wall of the volcanic cone, I proceeded to perform some very simple tricks, such as making a finger bone disappear from my right hand--then seemingly plucking the same finger bone out of my ear with my left. I even appeared to remove six finger bones, one after another, from the ear of one of Rorg's half-grown male children.

My audience seemed intensely interested in what I was doing, but I noticed that no matter what tricks I performed, not one of them laughed. Then I remembered that, to them, I was actually doing the things I seemed to do.

Before I had performed many tricks I saw two figures coming toward me, each tethered by the ankle to the wrist of an enormous she-ape. Instantly, I recognized the purple-clad, black-bearded Taliboz, and the slender, scarlet-draped figure of Loralie.

Rorg, who had seated himself on a low boulder with his female attendants behind him, ordered Loralie to a place on his right and Taliboz on his left.

With right hand extended palm downward, I bowed low to the princess in the customary salute to royalty, but she did not respond, nor even give any indication that she had seen me. Instead, with a haughty toss of her pretty little head, she sat down at Rorg's right and, looking across at Taliboz, said something in a low voice which I could not quite catch. He smiled unpleasantly at me.

Puzzled at this singular and inexplicable show of dislike on the part of the princess, I mechanically went through several more tricks from the book of magic--then pocketed my bones and bowed.

"You are indeed clever, food-man," said Rorg. "You are even more clever than Taliboz. To pluck six bones from the ear of Vork! I will not eat you today. You may go now, without tether or guard, but do not attempt to pass the crater rim or you will die."

I walked away with the black beady eyes of the cave-apes staring after me and the sardonic grin of Taliboz following me. But Princess Loralie deliberately looked in another direction.

As I wandered about the crater I pondered the strange conduct of the princess. What could I have done--or what could Taliboz have told her--to arouse her anger and disdain to such a degree that she showed it even when we were both in deadly peril and should have united forces against a common enemy?

I was half oblivious of my surroundings until a hairy paw was laid heavily on my shoulder. Quickly whirling, I faced a huge ape about eleven feet in height whose scarred fur was spotted with gray, attesting his considerable age.

"I am Graak," he said. "Rorg sent me to feed you. I have food in my cave. Come."

The old warrior turned and I followed him across the crater past many ape families, who looked at me curiously, but manifested no special hostility. Presently we came to a rather small cave, the floor of which was littered with old and malodorous gnawed bones. From the partly devoured body of a huge ptang, or giant sloth with sharp upcurved claws, he carved a slice of raw meat which he handed me.

"I slew the ptang this morning," he said, "so it is fresh and good."

Casting about for fuel, I found a pile of dried fern fronds near the entrance. After powdering a quantity of them, I at length succeeded in igniting them by striking my flint knife against one of the buckles of my leather trappings, and soon had a small cooking fire crackling. Over this I held my ptang steak impaled on a fern frond.

Graak watched me with evident wonder. "You are indeed a sorcerer."

For three days and nights I ate the food which Graak brought me and slept in his cave. Although his manner was surly, he was never openly hostile. But all my attempts at cultivating his friendship failed.

I spend most of my daylight hours searching for the cave in which the princess was confined, but it was not until the morning of the fourth day that I found her, seated in the doorway of a cave quite near my own. She must have been purposely avoiding me.

I swallowed my injured pride, and stepping before her, bowed with right hand extended, palm downward. "Prince Zinlo craves a word with Her Highness, Princess Loralie."

She did not answer, but turning her head away as if she had not heard me, addressed something to her huge female guardian.

Without moving, I repeated my request.

She rose with flashing eyes. "Begone!" There was withering scorn in the look she gave me. "Annoy me further and I will call the apes and have you driven away."

I bowed and departed. There was nothing else left for me to do.

Just before I reached Graak's cave, I came face-to-face with Taliboz, walking with his huge female guard. He grinned maliciously and said, "Tomorrow is the first day of the fourth endir."

"Any fool knows that," I retorted.

"Perhaps any fool also knows that on the first day of each endir, Rorg takes a mate. And that if food-men are available, a food-man is served at the wedding feast." As I stared at him, he added, "Rorg has just promised me that I shall not be eaten tomorrow."

I sat down before Graak's smelly cave. On the morrow, Rorg was to take Princess Loralie as his mate, and there were but two food-men held prisoner by the cave-apes--Taliboz and myself.

As we breakfasted on fungi and sporepods the following day, Graak was more talkative than he had yet been. "Today is Rorg's mating day with the food-woman--if he lives," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Some of our bravest warriors do not want our race to degenerate by intermarriage with weaklings. There has been much talk, and I believe Rorg will be challenged."

"Who will challenge the king?"

"It is the privilege of any warrior to challenge the Rogo to a duel to the death on the mating-day. The warrior who succeeds in killing him becomes Rogo in his stead, and takes his prospective bride as well as his other wives, children and possessions."

"But suppose one of your warriors who does not believe as Rorg believes slays him. What will then become of the food-woman?"

"She will be eaten, and Chixa, who was cheated of her turn, will be taken as a mate."

As Graak and I finished our meal, I noticed that the crater was beginning to fill with apes. Young and old, male and female, they came at first in scattered family groups, but later in great droves, until the huge pit was literally seething with moving brown figures.

Presently a tall, yellow-tusked male shouldered his way through the crowd and stopped at the door of our cave.

"Rorg commands the presence of Zinlo, the food-man," he said.

As I trailed the huge ape through the jostling throng, I tried to formulate some plan of action by which the princess might be saved. Although I resented her attitude toward me, I felt the urge to fight in her defense.

We came at length to the mouth of Rorg's lair in the great central cone. Passing through the deserted cave, dimly illuminated by reflected light from the exterior, we stepped into a narrow runway which slanted upward in a long curving spiral.

As we progressed steadily upward, the way grew so dark that I was forced to hold out both hands to avoid running against the walls. Presently it became lighter once more, and in a few moments we emerged onto the flat, narrow top of the cone.

Squatting in a semicircle near one edge of the platform were a dozen cave-ape warriors. At one end of the semicircle I recognized Urg, the huge ape I had disarmed, leaning on his great, saw-edged club and looking as belligerent as before.

Near the rim just opposite this ring of warriors stood Taliboz and Princess Loralie. Although their huge female guards stood behind them, I noticed that their tethers had been removed. The traitorous Olban noble favored me with a leer as I emerged from the runway, but the princess would not so much as notice my coming.

In the very center stood Rorg, evidently awaiting my arrival as he looked down at the vast sea of upturned faces in the crater. I was placed with my back to the twelve warriors.

As soon as I had taken my position, Rorg held his sawedged club aloft. Instantly the vast murmur of voices from below was stilled.

"Your Rogo takes a mate," he bellowed, his deep tones reverberating from the surrounding crater walls. Then he leaped high in the air, brandishing his saw-edged club until the air sang and whistled through its teeth. Alighting with a loud smack of his leathery feet on the hard rock, so that he faced in a direction opposite to that in which he had previously looked, he roared once more, "Your Rogo takes a mate." Leaping, whirling, and alighting as he had done before, he made his announcement in four directions so that all might hear.

He then hurled his club high above his head, caught it deftly as it fell. "Who will fight Rorg for his bride? Who will fight Rorg for his kingdom? Speak now, or for another endir, keep silence."

There was a deep grumbling growl behind me, and, turning, I beheld Urg, fangs bared, stepping from his place at the end of the line, whirling his great club. "I will fight Rorg," he shouted in a voice as deep as that of the king-ape.

Rorg appeared surprised--annoyed. For a moment he stood motionless, glowering at his challenger. Then, with a bellow of rage, his club held high in one huge paw and his flint knife gripped in the other, he leaped to the attack.

The club descended in a deadly, whistling arc, but did not connect, for with cat-like quickness Urg leaped to one side and struck back. His club bit deep into Rorg's left shoulder, eliciting a roar of pain and rage from the Rogo, who instantly swung for his legs.

Urg sprang back, but not far enough. The flint-toothed point raked one knee, and blood spurted forth. As he danced about the larger ape, looking for another opening, he limped, and the limp grew more pronounced as the fight progressed.

Again and again Rorg rushed in. How Urg succeeded in evading those rushes, lame as he was, I was unable to understand. Presently his leg became useless, dangling, and he was forced to hop on one foot.

Over the brutal face of Rorg there crept a look of triumph. Deliberately, now, he advanced toward his opponent, forcing him backward until he stood on the very brink of the plateau.

He leaped in, and as Urg swung a slashing blow for his neck, he ducked, at the same time whirling his club in a low, horizontal arc. It caught the challenger halfway between knee and ankle; there was a snap of severed bones, and Urg toppled backward to alight on his head on the rocks seventy-five feet below.

Scarcely had he struck ere the milling horde beneath rushed to the spot, brandishing their flint knives. In less time than it takes to tell, the body had been dismembered, and a snarling group of apes was fighting over the fragments.

Again Rorg leaped in the air, bellowing forth his deep-voiced challenge. Although there were low growls from the ape-warriors standing behind me, none answered the challenge.

"Who will fight Rorg for his bride and his kingdom?" The final challenge was flung out by the victorious king-ape as he looked triumphantly about him. "Speak now, or..."

"I'll fight you, Rorg," I said, drawing club and knife and stepping in front of the giant. As I did so I caught a fleeting glimpse of Taliboz and Loralie. On the face of the traitor was pleased anticipation. The eyes of the princess showed surprise, and something more. Incredible as it appeared from her recent actions, it was undoubtedly concern for my safety.

But these were only fleeting impressions.

Rorg stared incredulously down at me for a moment, evidently unable to believe that I had actually challenged the king of the cave-apes. Then he struck at me quickly, but not exerting his full strength, as if I were some insect annoying him.

Instinctively I used my club as if it had been a sword--parrying the blow with ease and countering with a thrust which bit into his furry abdomen, drawing blood and eliciting a grunt of rage and pain.

Although the club was so constructed that I could not hope to inflict a mortal wound by thrusting the sharp flint teeth with which it was armed, it could and did cause considerable pain and annoyance. As the cave-ape system of fighting was merely that of striking and dodging. I hoped to offset my adversary's enormous advantage of strength and reach by employing the technique of a swordsman.

With an angry bellow, Rorg swung a terrific blow for my legs. Again I parried, and countered with a neck cut which would probably have terminated the engagement in my favor had it not been blocked by one of his huge tusks. The tusk snapped off and clattered to the rock; but as a result, the club wounded him only slightly, adding to his fury.

Foaming at the mouth and gnashing his teeth in his rage, the king-ape beset me with a rain of blows that would have been irresistible to any but a trained swordsman. Splinters and bits of broken flint flew from our clubs as time and again I parried his terrific blows.

After each blow I countered with a cut or thrust, and soon my opponent was bleeding from head to foot; yet his strength and quickness seemed rather to increase with each fresh wound. Had he possessed a swordsman's training, I verily believe that ape would have been invincible on his own planet or any other.

Presently I succeeded in raking him across the forehead with the point of my weapon, so that the blood ran down in his eyes, half blinding him. But he wiped the blood away with the back of one huge paw and countered with a blow, the force of which numbed my wrist and splintered my club into fragments.

I leaped back, then hurled the club handle straight for the great, snarling mouth as he bounded forward to finish me. It struck him in the front teeth, breaking off several and momentarily bewildering him.

In that moment I leaped, and with the fingers of my left hand entwined in the wiry hair of his chest and my legs gripping his waist, I buried my flint knife again and again in his brawny neck. Blood spurted from his pulsing jugular as he endeavored to shake me off, to reach me with his sharp fangs, and to gore me with his single remaining tusk. But his mighty strength was spent--his lifeblood draining.

A quiver shook the giant frame and like some tall tree of the forest felled by the woodman's axe, he toppled backward, crashing to the ground.

Leaping quickly to my feet, I seized the club of the fallen ape-monarch and, brandishing it aloft, said, "Rorg is dead, and Zinlo is king. Who will fight Zinlo? Who will be next to die?"

From the throats of several of the ape-warriors in the semicircle from which Urg had come, came low growls, but none advanced, and the growls subsided as I singled out in turn with my gaze each of the truculent ones who had voiced them.

Far below me, the mob of apes was clamoring, "Meat! We want our meat!"

I knew that, spent as I was, the enormous body of Rorg was more than I could raise aloft and hurl to the mob below, so I had recourse to an old wrestling trick. Seizing the limp right arm of the fallen king-ape, I dragged the body to the edge of the cliff. Then, bringing the arm over my shoulder in an application of the principle of the lever, I heaved the remains of Rorg over my head.

A moment later the milling beasts below were tearing the carcass to pieces, snarling and snapping over their feast. This custom, I afterward learned, had been established in consequence of the belief that the flesh of a strong, brave individual would confer strength and bravery on the one who devoured it.

Again I brandished my club aloft, shouting, "Who will fight Zinlo for his kingdom? Speak now, or keep silence for another endir."

This time I heard not even a single growl from the warriors on the cone top.

An old warrior who had lost both tusks, an ear, and several of his fingers, stepped from the ranks and advanced to the cliff edge. "Rorg is dead," he announced. "Farewell to Rorg."

Following his words, a peculiar, quavering cry went up from the throats of the thousands of apes congregated in the crater, as well as from those on the plateau. So weird and mournful did it sound that I shivered involuntarily.

As the last plaintive notes died away, the old warrior shouted, "Zinlo is king. Hail, Zinlo!"

A deafening din followed as the ape-horde, brandishing knives and clubs aloft and clattering them together, cried, "Hail, Zinlo!"

I turned in triumph toward the spot where Taliboz and Loralie had been seated, intending to assure the princess that it would not be necessary now for her to marry the king of the cave-apes. To my surprise, I saw that both of them had disappeared. The two huge females who had been guarding them sat, side by side, slumped against a large boulder, their chins sunk forward on their hairy chests.

Bounding forward I seized one of the she-apes by the shoulder and shook her, shouting, "Where are your prisoners?"

Her limp body sagged forward, falling on the ground. The second female, when shaken, showed some signs of returning consciousness.

"What happened?" I asked. "Where are your prisoners?"

Weakly she pointed to a needlelike glass sliver embedded in her arm. Extracting it, I instantly recognized it for a tork projectile of the type which temporarily paralyzes its victim. In the arm of the other, a similar projectile was embedded.

Although he had been disarmed by the apes, it was evident that Taliboz had managed to keep his ammunition belt, and that during the excitement of my fight with Rorg, he had found the opportunity to paralyze the two female guards and slip away with the princess.

That she had gone with him willingly I could not doubt, for she had made no outcry, and her previous treatment of me had led me to believe that she would sooner have accepted Rorg for a mate than me.

I turned away, the sweetness of victory grown bitter in my mouth. I was about to enter the runway which led to the cave below, when a small, glittering object attracted my attention. Stooping, I picked it up and examined it minutely for a moment. Then a great light dawned on me.

CHAPTER VII

HURRYING DOWN the runway into the great cave below, I was about to rush out into the daylight to examine the small object I had found, when a long, muscular arm suddenly went about my shoulders, my head was crushed against a soft, furry breast, and a pair of pendulous lips caressed my cheek.

With the heel of my hand I pushed the face of a she-ape from mine and broke her embrace. Surprised, I recognized Chixa. She advanced toward me again, arms outstretched, but I motioned her off.

"Stand back," I warned her. "What do you mean by this familiarity?"

"But I am your mate," replied Chixa. "You have slain Rorg and the other she has run away. Rorg chose me for his mate before the food-woman came."

"Rorg chose his own mates, and I'll choose mine," I retorted. "What's this you say about the other she running away?"

The food-man and she came down the runway together. I let them escape. I did not want the food-woman to take my place."

"But how could they escape when the place is surrounded?"

"The food-man knew of the inner passageway," replied Chixa. "I showed him where it was...Am I not as comely as the other shes of my people?"

"No doubt you are the most comely, Chixa, but I will never mate with a cave-ape. You say this she went willingly with the food-man?"

"She did. I think they will be mates."

"Chixa," I said, walking to the entrance and examining the small glittering object that I had picked up, "you have lied to me."

"I lied," admitted Chixa, not one whit abashed, "but how do you know? You must be a sorcerer, as Graak said."

"I know by this small, broken glass needle, one end of which is stained with blood," I replied. "Call it magic, if you like, but this needle tells me that the she was carried away by the food-man."

"It is even as you say," conceded Chixa. "She was unconscious from the magic of the food-man, and her arm was bleeding."

"Show me the entrance to the inner passageway," I commanded.

Chixa sulked, and crouched in a corner.

"Show me the entrance," I said again, "or I will kill you by magic and feed you to the crowd outside."

Evidently the threat to kill her by magic--the fear of the unknown--was more potent than any ordinary death threat could possibly have been, for she rose, and, walking to the back of the cave, heaved a great slab of rock to one side, disclosing the dark mouth of a runway.

"It was this way they went," she said, "but you will never find them. By this time they will have taken trails where none but our greatest trackers could scent them out.

"Who is your best tracker?"

"Graak is the greatest of them all."

"Go instantly," I commanded, "and bring Graak to me. See that my command is carried out at once, or my magic will follow and slay you."

"I go," she responded fearfully, and hurried from the cave.

I fidgeted impatiently until she returned with Graak, who unhesitatingly offered to obey his new Rogo. Stooping, he entered the passageway. I hurried after him with my hands outstretched in the inky blackness in front of me to prevent dashing myself against the curving walls. We must have gone two miles in this manner before twilight loomed ahead, followed by daylight, and we emerged in the open air on a narrow shelf of rock against which the topmost fronds of a giant tree fern brushed. Around and beyond this mighty fern stretched a forest of its fellows, coming up to the very edge of the mountains that held the homes of the cave-apes.

Graak sniffed the air for a moment, then leaped for the nearest fern frond, which sagged beneath his weight as he caught it with both hands. His great body swung precariously a full seventy feet above the ground as he went up the slanting frond, hand over hand, until he reached the trunk. After sniffing at this for a moment, he descended, feet first, to the ground.

I followed his example, making much more work of it than he, and descending so slowly that he stamped impatiently before I reached the ground. I wondered how Taliboz had been able to negotiate this route with his inert burden until I noticed a long, slender cord dangling from the end of one of the fern fronds, its lower end about ten feet from the ground. The traitorous noble had evidently lowered Loralie by means of this cord to within reach of the ground, where he had evidently cut her loose and carried her off.

While Graak fidgeted impatiently, I leaped and caught the end of the cord. I called him to help me, and together we pulled until the frond broke off and came crashing to the ground. With my flint knife I quickly cut the cord from the branch and, coiling it about my body, told Graak to proceed. Feeling that we might have a journey ahead of us, I thought of several ways in which the cord might be useful.

We had not gone more than a mile in the fern forest when the cave-ape pointed to a set of smaller footprints beside Taliboz's and said, "The she walked from here."

Recovering at this point from the paralysis induced by the tork projectile, she had gone on with her abductor, willingly or not.

Although the footprints led at first toward the west, they presently began to turn southwest, toward the coast.

For many hours we followed the trail without food or drink; then Graak stopped in a clump of bush ferns which furnished us pure, fresh water. He next plucked some sporepods, cracking them with his teeth. I split some open with my knife. They had a pleasant, nutlike flavor.

We resumed our journey until the advent of sudden darkness, when we climbed into the leaf-crown of a tall tree fern to pass the night there.

Graak fell asleep at once, but I could not. No sooner had darkness descended on the forest than the night-roaming carnivora were astir, making the night hideous with their cries--howling awoos, the horrid, mirthless laughter of hyenalike hahoes, the terrific roars of marmelots, the death-cries of the victims.

I think the gentle rocking of the trees, together with the rustling of the countless millions of fern leaves, lulled me to slumber. At any rate, I was awakened by the great hairy paw of Graak pulling at my arm, which I had thrown across my face--a habit of mine while sleeping. "The light has come," he said, "and Graak is hungry. Let us find food and be gone."

As I followed him down the rough, scaly trunk, I was struck by the contrast of the daylight sounds. I could hear only the buzzing of insects, the silvery toned warbling of the awakened songbirds, the occasional snort or grunt of some herbivore feeding, and the peculiar squawking cries of the queer bird-reptiles called aurks.

Graak and I had only traveled a short distance on the trail when he suddenly stiffened and, looking upward, said, "Good food! A ptang!"

Following the direction of his gaze, I saw a large, hairless slothlike creature hanging upside down on a thick fern frond which bent downward beneath its weight. The ptang was unconcernedly munching leaves without so much as a glance in our direction.

The cave-ape bounded to the base of the tree and quickly ascended, to climb out on the limb where the stupid creature was feeding, paying no attention to the approaching danger.

Graak swung by a prehensile foot and hand, and struck with his saw-edged club, laying the side of the creature's head wide open at the first blow. It ceased its feeding, but did not attempt either to fight or run away, though its powerful legs were armed with long, hooked claws. Again Graak swung his club. The animal's head hung limply downward and a shiver ran through its frame.

Replacing his club in his belt string, the cave-ape drew his flint knife and pried the hooked claws one by one from their grip on the limb. The ptang crashed downward through the branches to the ground.

When we had eaten our fill, the ape and I each cut off as large a portion of the animal as could conveniently be carried, and started once more on the trail.

We had not gone far when Graak pointed out a place where Taliboz and the princess had stopped to eat, the night before. A little farther on the trail, we came to the base of a large tree fern in whose leaf crown they had passed the night. Evidently they were not more than an hour ahead of us.

As we hurried forward and the scent grew stronger and stronger, the cave-ape showed all the excitement of a hound on a fresh game trail--which it was, to his mind.

Presently he stopped, tensely alert, sniffing and listening.

"What is it?" I asked in a whisper.

"A marmelot follows them," replied Graak, pointing to the footprints in the leaf mold.

Looking down, I saw, sometimes between their tracks, sometimes obliterating part of them, the spoor of a gigantic feline, so heavy that it sank to a depth of nearly a foot with each step.

Then carne the scream of a woman in deadly terror, only a short distance ahead, followed by the crashing of underbrush and a terrific rumbling growl which I recognized only too well.

Graak instantly took to the trees, but I unlimbered my club and knife and dashed forward.

Hurrying as fast as I could in the soft leaf mold, dodging through fern-brakes and tripping over creepers, I presently floundered out into a little glade where a most fearsome sight met my eyes.

R