November, 1929|

AMAZING STORIES

675

’HainYou
at Home to Fill
a Bi^'Pay
Radiojoo

Heres the

PROOF

One Mentb lo
•pare Time

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18 Webster St.

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4202 Arsenal St.

St. Louis, Mo.

•450 a Month

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dio shop in the South-
west and also operate
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. $450 a month."

I FrJink M. Jones

I 922 Guadalupe St.

k '

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Serme to all wmiudi

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676

AMAZING STORIES

November, 1929

^uFellom

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L. L. COOKE, Chief In.truetlon Englnaer

L. L. COOKE SCHOOL I
^ OF ELECTRICITY ■

Dept. 406

SXSe Lawrence Ayenao

Chicago, Illinois v(^

Dept.40S, 2150 Lawrene* Aybbug, Chieago. liilnota

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VOLUME

4

PSIOKS

THE
MAGAZINE
OF

SGIENTIFICTION

T. O’CONOR SLOANE, Ph.D., Editor
MIRIAM BOURNE, Managing Editor

NOVEMBER, 1929
No. 8

WILBUR C. WHITEHEAD, Literary Editor

C. A. BRANDT, Literary Editor

Editorial and General Offices: 381 Fourth Avenue, New York, N. Y.

Extravagant Fiction Today

Cold Fact Tomorrow

Acceleration in Interplanetary Travel

By T. O’Conor Sloane, Ph.D.

E find ourselves in a peculiar dilemma in reference
to one class of stories for which so many of our
readers have expressed a preference. These stories
fall into the class of Interplanetary Travel and the
dilemma is in this : Amazing Stories is de-
voted to stories involving the many phases of
ice. Of course, the word science means everything
that is known. It definitely means knowledge, and it is not too
much to say that the commonest actions of our lives, if the mind
has any part in them, are scientific. But this is to a certain ex-
tent begging the question, for what is usually meant by science,
and certainly what the readers of this magazine understand by
that word, is what is known as Natural Science, which can be
extended to include ethnology, or the study of the races of men,
and philology or the study of languages, and many other such
topics. The effect of this is to give an extended range to the
subjects presented to our readers.

But to come back to interplanetary travel. If voyages were
to be made from the earth to any of the planets, or even to the
moon, the distances are so great that starting from rest as the
travelers would do, they would have to attain a high velocity in
a very short space of time. Such a change of velocity, if in the
direction of speed, is called positive acceleration, or more often
simply, acceleration. If velocity is checked and reduced, the
process is called negative acceleration. If a person were to
enter an elevator and it rushed down its shaft with evenly in-
creasing speed, so that at the end of a second it would be moving
at the rate of thirty-two feet per second, and at the end of the
next second at sixty-four feet a second, the weight of this person
in the elevator would disappear as_ far as the elevator is con-
cerned. If he jumped up in the air, he would strike his head
against the top of the elevator and would stay there. If there
were a spring balance in the elevator and the person were to
stand upon it, instead of showing his normal weight, which
might be ISO lbs., it would show simply nothing. But suppose
that he started at the foot of the shaft and stood upon the spring
balance: the instant the elevator began to move upward he
W'ould show more than his normal weight, which would continuQ
to show on the dial as long as the car increased its rate of mo-
tion. Once the rate of motion ceased to increase, his normal
weight would show.

The point to be made is that weight is entirely dependent upon
gravitation — that_ weight has nothing to do wdth acceleration,
but at the same time the effect of weight may be produced there-
by. One of the great feats of baseball players — cited many times
— is the catching of a ball thrown from the top of the Washing-
ton Monument, which gives a fall of about SSO feet. This, of
course, brings it down very rapidly and when the catcher re-
ceives the ball on his glove, it will probably feel as though a
10-pound weight landed there. Of course that would only be
true for a fraction of a second.

In interplanetary travel, where the travelers start from the

earth at a velocity of zero, that is to say from rest, the accelera-
tion must start and must be very rapid, so that the travelers will
press, not with weight alone, but with a combination of weight
and the force of positive acceleration against the base of the
chamber in the projectile, or “ship,” as it may be termed. Now
this pressure will be so enormous that, in order to reach a planet,
or even to reach the moon in any reasonable time, it would
probably be sufficient to kill the person, just as he would be
killed by a fall — ^let us say, for instance, from the Washington
Monument. On striking the earth, he would be killed by nega-
tive acceleration.

One of the ideas in interplanetary travel is to use a rocket-
propelled vehicle — that is, a vehicle from whose stern gases will
be propelled at high velocity by some explosive mixture. This is
the way in which a rocket rises upon its impressive flight into
the upper air.

Now some of our readers do not understand how a rocket
could work in a vacuum, where there is no air for the expelled
gases to press against. Here again there is a bit of science to
be learned. The rocket acts by pure reaction — ^the_ presence or
absence of air has nothing to do with its propulsion. Action
and reaction are equal and opposite. If one fires a gun, one
feels the recoil against the shoulder, if this gun is fired in the
air. If by some means you could be transported with it to a
vacuum and fire it there, the pressure against the shoulder would
be practically identical with the first. The air has nothing to do
with the motion of a rocket and nothing to do with the recoil of
a gun except to act as a retarding force. Action and reaction
are equal and opposite, independent of the surrounding of the
body with air.

So since our readers like interplanetary stories, since they
unceasingly ask for them in letters to us, _ and since there is
any amount of science, mechanical, astronomical and other to be
gleaned therefrom, we certainly shall be glad to continue to
give them, even in face of the fact that we are inclined to
think that interplanetary travel may never be attained. On the
other hand, in science, “never” has proved to be a very danger-
ous word to employ.

So many “impossible” things have become almost common
occurrences. Much of what we have said above may apply to
the fourth dimension, which is almost undefinable_ in popular
terms, yet our readers like it. It does give a basis for good,
scientific stories, and we see no reason why even an apparent
impossibility should not be invoked for the sake of a good
story. Some people have been carried away by the idea of the
fourth dimension, much as others have been carried away by
spiritualism. Some very curious books have been brought to the
attention of the writer treating of the fourth dimension, but we
will take it for what it is worth — as a mathematical constructio'
and conception — ^and it will serve as a fine basis for stories f
science and will bring out very good scientific points.

natural

677

a

M icrocosmic

buccaneers

HE conception of planetary atoms is not
a particularly new one to most of our read-
ers, But it is remarkable what can be done
with this theory by an author who, in addition
to being endowed with a fertile imagination
and the gift of facile expression, is also a man
of science. Mr. Vincent does full justice to
himself as a writer and to the possibilities con-
tained in this idea. He gives us a plausible
story, chock full of good science, and as good
a piece of scientific fiction as you have eveK
read. W e know you will enjoy it.

An Astounding Discovery

I T was utterly incomprehensible, yet it was true.
They had seen it with their own eyes. Young
Grayson R36B stared at his father’s friend with
amazement written large on his lean, bronze coun-
tenance. Minott V8CA, Director of Physical
Research of the eighth Terrestrial district, returned the
stare with something of awe in his tired gray eyes.

“Grayson, my boy,” he said, “we have succeeded be-
yond my most optimistic hopes. We have delved into
the secrets of the microcosmos. We have located one of
its innumerable universes and have there found an in-
conceivably minute world with its own sun, moon and
stars, and peopled by living, thinking creatures who re-
semble the white race of our earth in physical ap-
pearance. It is quite unthinkable, but here is the evi-
dence.”

He glanced again into the eyepiece of the massive in-
strument before which they stood.

“I still can not understand it,” remarked the younger
man, slowly and with a perplexed frown. “Of course
I am as yet ignorant of all excepting the mere rudi-
ments of science. But it seems to me I have read, or
perhaps you told me, that these electrons, of which our
infinitesimal world is one, are traveling at great speed
even in matter of considerable density. How, then, can
your super-microscope view these objects as if they were
stationary ?”

By

Harl Vincent

Author of “Barton’s Island,” “The War' of the
Planets,” etc.

Illustrated by MOREY

“That is a feature I neglected to mention. The initial
magnification, as I believe I told you, is accomplished
by a powerful ray of vibrations. This ray impinges on
the object to be viewed and is the first stage of magni-
fication in the system which gives us such enormous
powers. The ray, in addition to giving us the first ten
thousand diameters, has the property of following the
motions of which you speak. Its far end oscillates in
exact harmony with the motions of molecule or atom
or electron as the case may be, while the source of the
ray remains stationary and thus impresses a stationary
image on the object reflector to the second stage of the
instrument.”

Grayson R36B nodded in comprehension, though he
was unabje to picture in his mind’s eye such movements
of a ray so small as to be unmeasurable and, in fact,
invisible in a high power niiscroscope of standard type.
This was but one of the many things he had yet to learn.
But he found the mysteries of science intensely interest-
ing as propounded by his mentor, and he looked for-
ward happily to many years of such association with the
great man into whose care he had been legally placed
at the death of his father, two years ago.

“What is the next step?” he asked,

Minott V8CA pondered the question. He had been
wondering over the same subject. He was not satis-
fied with knowing as little as they had been able to see
of the inhabitants of the tiny world now visible in the
eyepiece of his instrument. He wanted to view them
from still closer, to learn more of their lives and of
their history. He replied, half jesting, “I should like to
pay them a visit.”

“Pay them a visit? But that, is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible. We are living in the thirty-
tliird century, my boy. Fifteek centuries ago it was

678

^ They obeyed in some little trepi-
dation, drawing near the strange con-
veyance and stopping as a small
square opening appeared in the side
nearest them

thought impossible that man v.-ouldj^ver fly — mind you,
fly in the atmosphere like a bird. Ten centuries ago it
was thought that gravity could never be counteracted or
overcome. And less than five centuries ago a trip to one
of the planets was held to be the height of ridiculous

imagination. Yet all of these things have been accom-
plished, and much more. No, I would not say the trip
is impossible.”

“But it is hardly probable, is it?”

“Hardly. Though the thing merits consideration.”

679

680

AMAZING STORIES

The great scientist mused further. His young prot^e
let his mind dwell upon the bizarre possibility suggested
by the older man. There was no more adventure in the
world, he ruminated. Some of the ancient sound films,
that had been used as a part of his education, portrayed
stirring events of the distant past. Adventures had been
commonplace in those heroic days — ocean flights in tiny,
wind-buflfeted vessels that looked as though they would
never weather the storms — struggles of man against
the wilderness, building huge dams across turbulent
rivers or erecting strange steel towers, that carried power
lines through well-nigh impenetrable jungles. Wars and
rebellions in remote provinces had likewise appealed to
him. But in his own day there was none of that, none
of the excitement that had been the lot of adventurous
youth in the dark ages. There were no storms now to
buffet the gigantic air liners crossing the oceans, for
science had conquered the weather. There was no wilder-
ness nor jungle. Nor were there remote provinces,
where battles might be fought and deeds of valor might
be performed. The world was entirely civilized and
overpopulated. Several generations back it had been con-
sidered somewhat of an adventure to make a trip to
i\Iars or to Venus, but even this no longer provided ex-
citement, for these planets were now but a few hours
away and were so like earth in civilization and appear-
ance as to present no novelty for a visiting terrestrial.
Now here was a new possibility in the microcosmos —
and who knew how many more of the tiny worlds might
be inhabited? But he could not bring himself to serious-
ly consider the probability of ever reaching one of them.

“Grayson,” spoke the older man, interrupting his line
of thought, “I intend to do some heavy thinking over this
thing. You know the control of oit{ physical size is a
comparatively simple matter now, within limits. Of
course we have standardized on six feet three inches as
man’s stature and five feet eleven as woman’s, but there
is no reason this might not be altered greatly if desired.
By the use of one of the hormones of the pituitary
gland we might grow giants of eight feet stature and
by causing certain endocrine deficiencies it is possible to
dwarf a man to a fourth of normal height. By similar
processes it might be that we could contrive to reduce
ourselves to the dimensions necessary for life on our
newly found electron world.”

“You really think something might be done?”

"Might be is the proper term. It is far from being
a simple matter. But, as I said before, I shall think
about it seriously.”

“Supposing it were possible to reduce our bodies to
the proper size. We should then be the distance of many
universes from that grain of sand which contains our
Lilliputian world. We might as well be at the outermost
edge of our own galactic * universe. How would we
ever reach it ?”

“That is probably the most difficult part of the pro-
blem, and the one requiring the most thought. But it
must be susceptible to solution, if not in our lifetime at
least at some future date.”

Grayson’s delight at the words of his guardian was
evident in his eyes and it abated but little at the further
warning that all this talk of visiting the populated elec-
tron was extremely fanciful. And that night he dreamed
of green forests and of running streams and of all those
things that had existed for him only in history and in

* Galactic indicates the millcy way as the location of a cosmic or astro*

tiomical system. It means **milky’* (from the Greek).

carefully preserved picturings. For Grayso* R36B was
not yet twenty-five years of age.

By Means of the Fourth Dinaenslon

W ITH the passing of four months the scientist
found himself little closer to the solution of the
problem than when it was first presented. Ex-
periments with white mice as subjects had progressed
to the point where these lively creatures had been re-
duced to the size of blood corpuscles, a dozen or more
of them scampering about in an opening the size of a
pin point indented in a thin paraffin coating on a mic-
roscope slide. They were still far from their goal and
the young man, who had assisted with all the work, was
on the point of despairing entirely.

Then tliere came a day when Grayson R36B was
startled from his observation of the electron world
through the super-microscope, by an ecstatic shout from
his guardian.

“What is it?” he asked excitedly.

“We’ve been working on an entirely wrong basis,
Grayson. But now I see tlie light. The fourth dimen-
sion !”

“Fourth dimension?” repeated his ward, blankly.
“Certainly. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it
before. We’ll visit the tiny planet by its agency.”

“But-^but I thought the fourth dimension was only a
mathematical conception — that there was no real know-
ledge of it.”

“You are quite right, my boy, as far as any published
data is concerned. But there have been experiments —
successful ones too — that were apparently of no practical
use. Now we have the practical use. You understand, of
course, that even though you do not perceive a fourth
dimension, all objects in our universe must be possessed
of this abstruse quality in order to exist. We live and
breathe in a four-dimensional world that is part of a
four-dimensional universe. The so-called dimension has
been variously explained but for our purpose we need
not enter into any of the various arguments which have
been brought up. It is not time in the strict sense that
we are interested in, but the the time-space relationship,
and it is that relationship I intend to employ in entering
that little world at which you have been gazing.”

“You mean, if the time-space relationship as applied
to our physical existence is altered, we shall then have
no difficulty in making the journey?”

“That is it exactly, my boy. We as human beings are
four-dimensional entities peculiarly adapted to life in
our own environment. These entities occupy space in
a definite volume we are pleased to designate by three
dimensions. But the interval, the time-space relation-
ship, is what makes us as we are. Size is only relative
and if everything in the universe were suddenly to be-
come a million times larger or a million times smaller,
we should not be aware of the difference for our stand-
ards of measurement would also have altered in like
proportion.”

“But how to effect such a change?”

“I’m coming to that. There is a plane whidi in 3281
was designated by Rollin D4Y as the hyperphysical
plane. And Rollin experimented at considerable length
in rotating objects in and out of this plane by various
methods. In the most successful of the methods used,
a purely mechanical means, he found it possible to rotate
living creatures instantaneously into and out of the

MICROCOSMIC

hyperphysical existence without harm. By instantaneous,

I mean that the transition must take place within the
period of not more than two or three heart-beats of the
subject. We shall go further than did Rollin. We shall
not only enter the hyperphysical plane, but shall project
ourselves into the delectable world of the microcosmos
and there emerge as entities adaptable to the greatly
different existence.”

Grayson’s eyes popped. “You think it can be done?”
he gasped.

“I’m sure of it. 'And quite simply too.”

Minott hurried to a large cupboard at the side of the
laboratory and there brought to view a dust-covered
apparatus that Grayson had never seen. This was pro-
vided with a box-like base set on four casters and it was
trundled forth by the excited scientist.

“A duplicate of Rollin’s apparatus,” he explained,
busying himself with a duster.

G rayson watched in intense interest as the older
man uncovered the upper portion of the mechanism.
There was a huge vacuum tube, one of the largest he
had ever seen, and about this there clustered a maze of
helices of tiny silver ribbon. Two arms swung out from
the side of the box, and each of these carried what ap-
peared to be a parabolic reflector, also of silver. There
was a heavy cable to which a wall plug was attached, and
Minott connected this with a base receptacle nearby. He
withdrew a slide from the side of the box and arranged
the two reflectors to focus on the slide. Then he reached
for one of the small cages containing a normal white
mouse and this he placed on the slide. With all arranged
to his satisfaction, he pulled a switch at the side of the
mechanism. There came a roar from within and the
great vacuum tube lighted to a dull red glow. The mouse
scampered unconcerned in its cage.

“Now, observe closely,” said Minott, placing his finger
on a small button that Grayson had not noticed.

He pressed the button and the universe seemed to
totter. The very space about them seemed to warp and
twist. The lively creature in the little cage vanished as
suddenly and utterly as if a genie had whisked it away.
Grayson stared dumbfounded. A second passed. Two
seconds. Then, in a puff of blue haze, the mouse once
more nosed about in its coop. The accompanying wrench
of the space in which they stood left Grayson trembling
and aghast.

“Good grief !” he exclaimed. “There’s strong medicine
in that box all right! So that’s the way we are going?”

Yes. Excepting we must combine Rollin’s apparatus
with my super-microscope.”

“Combine it?”

“Of course. Otherwise we should not reach our desti-
nation ; we would merely return to our normal existence,
as did our little subject. With our existence transferred
to the hyperphysical plane, we’ll be whisked along the
minute ray of the super-microscope, which is now trained
on the place we are to visit. In reentering the purely
physical plane, our time-space relationship must neces-
sarily alter in exact accordance with the requirements of
the microcosmos.”

' -“And thf return ? Getting back to our own world, I
mean.”

Minott was already busy with the connections between
the two mechanisms. He did not look up from his work
as he replied, “Oh, for the initial visit I shalTset a time
switch to control our apparatus here. We’ll stay but

BUCCANEERS ' 681

two minutes and then return in the same manner. After
the first trip, a better method can be worked out. But in
any event it is merely a reversal of the original process.
Are you ready?”

He looked at the younger man with a twinkle in his
eye.

“Now? Right away, you mean?”

“Yes. All is prepared.”

“Why sure, I’m ready if you are.”

“Very well, then. We’ll be off at once.”

He made the final adjustments to the apparatus, di-
recting the reflectors of the Rollin mechanism to include
a tiny disc he had attached to the super-microscope.
Grayson was somewhat apprehensive as he watched the
attaching and setting of the time switch, but he had no
thought of reconsidering or of objecting.

“All right. Gray,” came in measured tones, as the
scientist straightened from the completion of his task.

He drew the younger man into the proper position be-
fore the apparatus and threw an arm affectionately over
his shoulder as he reached forth with his free hand to
close the main switch and press the button. This time
it seemed to Grayson that the very fibres of his being
were wrenched asunder. There was a terrific flash of
blinding light, an inconceivably violent explosion, and
then a momentary impression of being hurled through
the vastness of space. He opened his eyes to the glare
of sunlight and instinctively ducked his head at sight
of a heavy object rushing to meet him. There was a
sickening thud and his senses left him completely.

A Fatal Error

W HEN Grayson R36B recovered consciousness
it was slowly and with tortuous, futile attempts
at raising himself to a seated position. He lay
prone in some feathery, aromatic substance that was soft
as down, but of so great a depth as to almost bury his
body. His head ached abominably and his lids refused
to open at first. Then suddenly he remembered, and he
sat up quickly. He drew his hand across his forehead
and brought it away covered with blood. Something had
gone amiss with their experiment.

A feeble moan at his side caused him to search through
the fuzzy substance that carpeted this strange realm and
he came across the figure of his friend, Minott V8CA.
He had been injured likewise, but they soon discovered
that nothing more serious than broken scalps and minor
bruises had been sustained by either. Then they arose
and had their first sight of the new surroundings.

It was a brown and green landscape that met their
view — not greatly unlike the countryside of their own
world as it had existed many centuries previously when
it was thinly populated. The sward beneath their feet
was of great depth and it was fine-stranded and soft like
a woman’s hair. But it was green— a warm yellow green
that was pleasing to the eyes of these city-bred mortals.
At the edge of the clearing in which they stood there
was a fringe of tall plant life closely akin to the trees
of their own world. These had smooth trunks of a
reddish brown hue and rose for a considerable distance
before branching into foliage. The foliage itself was of
the same warm green as the grass and massed about the
tops of the trunks in round, symmetric clusters. The
air was balmy and warm — a gentle breeze stirred the
soft carpet of the clearing into rippling waves that lapped
at the shadows of the forest like the swells of a calm sea.

682

AMAZING STORIES

“What a beautiful place!” exclaimed Grayson, “But
how is it that we were thrown here so heavily and that
we did not arrive at the point on which the ray was
focussed? There was a lake at that point, with a sandy
beach and with habitations visible in the near distance.”

Minott rubbed his bruises ruefully. “I see it all now,”
he exclaimed, “\\1ien we combined the Rollin apparatus
with the super-microscope, the ray was deflected an in-
finitesimal amount by the introduction of our hyper-
physical entities. W^e are probably quite some distance
from the point of original focus and at quite a different
elevation on the miniature world. That is why our land-
ing was not so gentle.”

Grayson had glanced at the sky and he gasped in utter
amaze; “Why, there are three suns in the heavens!” he
cried.

AKD such was the case. One shone hotly red and
JLx was exactly overhead. The other two, of smaller
size, shone paler and with a colder light. These two
were close together but fully fifteen degrees from the
first and the net result in lighting their surroundings was
a brilliance seemingly even greater than that of their
own sun and of similar quality as regards color of the
light. The multiple shadows lent a strange triple com-
plement to their movements.

“Yes, I expected that,” replied Minott, “This atom,
which is now our universe, contains quite a number of
protons of which these three are self luminous. If it
were an atom of gold, whose atomic number is 79 and
the atomic weight 197, there would be 79 protons in the
nucleus. In addition there would be 118 protons to
make up its weight as well as 118 electrons to neutralize
these 118 protons. About the nucleus there would be
79 additional electrons to neutralize the 79 protons com-
prising the atomic number. Of course this universe is
a much less complex one than an atom of gold, but it
is far more complex than an atom of hydrogen, which
consists of but one proton with a single electron to
neutralize it.”

“Then we must expect many things to be different
than those existing at home?”

“Yes indeed, and interestingly so. And do you know,
Grayson, we must make up our minds to remain in this
place for we shall never be able to return to earth.”

“What! We can not return?”

“No. I was far too optimistic in my setting of the
time switch. According to my watch we have been here
nearly thirty minutes already. We were i^robably un-
conscious for a third of that. The apparatus has long
since functioned and we are still here. Of course the ray
of the super-microscope having been deflected from its
true course by our advent, we were lost to it on its
return, for it would impinge at the point of original
focus, which point we mis.sed. We are doomed to re-
main.”

Grayson gazed gloomily at his mentor. “Fine fix we
are in,” he commented.

“Yes. And it’s all my fault for being too precipitate
and not taking time to prepare more carefully.”

The great scientist was so crestfallen that the young
man burst into laughter. He threw an arm about the
older man.

“After all,” he said, “What does it matter. We have
but little at home that we may not have here. Since both
mother and father are gone I have no one but you —
and I still have you. There is your home and position.

of course, but insofar as family ties are concerned you
are similarly situated. And we can make a place for
ourselves right here. Probably we shall be better off.”

“Bravely spoken my boy,” said Minott, with an
answering hug. “And now suppose we explore a bit and
orientate ourselves.”

Undismayed, they set forth toward- the forest.

For two hours they tramped through the unfamiliar-
multi-shadowed depths of the wood, stopping often to
examine some new growth that was discovered. It ap-
peared to be a trackless jungle, peopled only by furred
and feathered creatures of small size and timid nature.
Then suddenly they came out upon a road, a smooth
highway of glistening metal that wound its way through
the forest.

“\\’’ell, this is encouraging,” said Minot^ “All roads
lead somewhere — in both directions. Which shall we
try ?”

“The forest looks thinner to the right. Why not that
way?”

“All right. Let’s go.”

With little thought to the future they trod the silvery
road for several miles, as they would judge distance on
earth. They were nearing the edge of the wood and
were suddenly in the open.

The three suns had sunk so low that the two smaller
ones were close to the horizon. The period of the first
twilight was about to set in, but ahead of them in the
slanting rays, there gleamed a magnificent city, a city
of towering walls and great spires and domes, all con-
structed of the silvery metal on which they walked.

They stood spellbound for a moment before advancing
further. Each was so impressed with the grandeur of
the sight that neither spoke a word. Then there came a
ringing command. Each was sure that no sound had
broken the stillness, yet that command was heard as sure-
ly and clearly as if shouted in their ears.

“What was that?” asked Grayson in astonishment.

“You heard it too? It was a distinct command to
stop, though I am sure there was no speaker.”

“Exactly as it seemed to me.”

Undecided they remained rooted to the spot for a
space. Then Grayson took an experimental step. Again
came that insistent demand and he withdrew the foot he
had thrust forward.

Then there came a roar from the skies and a huge
cylindrical vessel swooped directly before them, alighting
on the metal surface of the road as lightly as a bird.
The voice that was not a voice spoke to them once more.

“Approach closely,” it commanded.

They obeyed in some little trepidation, drawing near
to the strange conveyance and stopping as a small square
opening appeared in the side nearest them.

“Enter,” came the insistent, unspoken command.

They stepped through the opening into the cylinder.

In a New World

T he darkness .sprang into intense light as the door
closed behind them. Blinded to the point of
hypnosis, they saw nothing but eyes — eyes that
glared and stared; inspected them as if they wereTabtSt-
atory specimens of an infinitely i.iferior sort.

Then that blinding light was gone — gone so suddenly
that the darkness seemed terrifying. But it was not
for long. The unspoken voice came once more. “They
are different!” it said.

MICROCOSMIC

Soft hands laid hold on them, flabby fingers pawed
their bodies.

“Ugh!” protested Grayson.

Then they were in a room of comfortable brightness
and warmth. Six pairs of the eyes regarded them, and
for the first time they were aware of the features in
which those all-seeing, all-knowing optics were set. These
were not the creatures they had viewed througli the
super-microscope. Far from human was their appear-
ance. But there was more of intelligence — of sini.ster
cunning and evil intent in those blue-rimmed eyes than
in the most despicable and villainous of mortals. The
heads were hairless and globular, the parchment-like
skin drawn tight over the ugly skulls. Ears they had
none — nor mouths — nor chins. Nothing there was that
marked them, as human, save those eyes — and these were
superhuman in their penetrating quality and discern-
ment.

Again there came the voice that sounded riot : “Crea-
tures of exceptional knowledge,” it said, “whence came
ye? Surely not from the savage tribes of Els, nor
from Pra or its satellites. In our solar system there are
no other inhabited planets. Then, whence came ye?”

Grayson and IMinott stared at one another without
making reply. Each had understood the questions pro-
])Ounded, yet neither comprehended fully, nor had they
heard an uttered sound.

“Reply!” came the command. “Full well we know that
thy lesser intelligences are incapable of communicating
with such as we, on the terms of equality. Yet, from
the impulses that come to us, we are aware how ye com-
municate one with the other. Ye are possessed of
antiquated organs, ears, lips, bronchial tubes, like the
Elsians. Speak then, that we may read thy thoughts.”

The older man was struck dumb, but Grayson’s youth-
ful vigor asserted itself in rising anger.

“We are from Earth,” he said, “on a friendly mis-
sion. And we are astonished at the unfriendly reception
we have been accorded.”

“Earth?” came the voice that was unbearable, “Why
speakest thou that which is untrue ? Thy words, thougli
we hear them not, convey to our superior minds mean-
ings that are false.”

M INOTT nudged his impetuous partner into sullen
silence.

“Earth, as we call it,” he repeated in a conciliatory
\ oice, “is a planet of another and far away system. My
friend speaks the truth. We are from Earth, and we
have no enmity against the peoples of your system.”

“Thou liest as well ! There is but one other system —
the system of Oc, and that is so far distant as to be
unreachable.”

Grayson and Minott felt themselves seized by forces
of great power and of unknown source and nature. They
struggled to no avail. There was a quick jerk that threw
them to the hard floor, and they knew the ship was in
motion. The light and the penetrating eyes were gone
and they felt about in the darkness until they found each
other.

“Well, this is a fine welcome!” exclaimed Grayson.
“Yes, and the worst of it is that these beings are not
even inhabitants of the world we came to visit. What
they are doing here I do not know, but they are not the
people we saw through the super-microscope and it
seems they are unfriendly to them as they are to us.
What the object of the enmity is, is another thing.”

BUCCANEERS 683

There was a sudden swift descent of the vessel, a
crash, and it came to rest. Windows opened on two
sides of the room they occupied and through the thick
glass, or whatever transparent medium it was, they saw
that the ship had descended in the city of gleaming metal.
They became aware of great activity within and of much
clamor without. A cloud of dense vapor obscured their
vision for a time, during which period the activity with-
in increased and they could hear heavy footsteps and the
moving about of bulky objects. The mist cleared and
they saw a mass of red-gowned humans — humans like
themselves, with perfectly fonned featured. But this
mass of beings lay in pitiful heaps in the center of a
great square where there was no other living thing save
three of the earless, mouthless, large-eyed creatures
who poked about among the bodies. They were remov-
ing the valuables from the persons of those unfortunate
victims of the deadly gas.

The blinding light from within assailed them sudden-
ly and, blinking dazedly in its glare, they saw five of the
red-gowned humans thrust into their own cell and thrown
to the floor. The artificial light vanished as suddenly
as it had come — then the daylight as well, for slides of
some sort were drawn across the transparent windows.

“Wonder if we can make ourselves understood to these
other prisoners,” said Grayson.

There was a reply, another wordless communication,
a mental impression transmitted from the mind of one
of these beings.

“We understand,” it conveyed. "You have but to
speak for a few minutes and we shall be able to con-
verse with you in your own tongue. Proceed.”

Minott spoke slowly and distinctly. “Grayson,” he
said, “this is a remarkable demonstration of telepathy.
Those of the great eyes possess the same power, but
something tells me these Elsians, as I presume our fellow
prisoners are called, have the keener intelligence though
they are apparently at the mercy of the great-eyes. The
ship is moving once more and I suppose we are being
conveyed as captives of war along with these five who
have just been incarcerated with us.”

He spoke for perhaps five minutes along the same
lines. Then he was interrupted by a gentle voice, a voice
of singing quality that pronounced his own uncouth
English in accents that made of it a language of smooth
beauty.

“You have spoken truly,” came the voice from out the
stygian darkness,” and sufficiently to enable us to con-
verse with you. We have learned the mental communica-
tion of the Prags — the great-eyes as you humorously
termed them. But such communication is forbidden in
all Els. We prefer the spoken word as we do not wish
to evolve as have the Prags — the pirates who prey on
the entire universe and who have become hideous in
appearance. From where do you come — one of the
satellites of Pra?”

“No,” Minott responded. “We come from another
solar system — from a planet called Earth.”

“From the system of Oc?” asked the gentle voice.

“No, from still further.”

“Further than Oc?” The voice was frankly astonished
now, but not incredulous.

“Yes, much further than Oc. As we measure distance
in our land, it is but a fraction of an inch to our own
home, but in your terms, which we know not, it is an
unthinkable distance.”

There was puzzlement in the reply and Grayson nud-

684

AMAZING STORIES

ged his friend into silence. At that moment the blue
glare of the lights dazzled them once more, and one
of the Prags entered the narrow chamber. Then there
was a gradual .softening of the brilliancy until the earth
visitors were able to make out clearly the ugly form of
the Prag.

The short body, surmounted by the immense bulbous
head that seemed to be all eyes, was clothed in a single
baggy garment of leather through which the emaciated
arms and legs projected. At the waist, the garment was
drawn together by a broad sash, from which depended
a wickedly curved knife and a glittering mechanism
that appeared to be a hand weapon of some sort. The
lidless eyes with their strange blue rims and bloodshot
intensity peered through and through the prisoners from
the earth.

“You are to appear before the Kama,” they were com-
manded by the thoughts of this creature.

Minott and Grayson, without volition and propelled
by a power from without their consciousness, rose meek-
ly and followed the Prag from the room, leaving behind
them the softly muttering Elsians.

Silent Commands

T he Kama proved to be the commander of the
swiftly moving ship and he faced them in a for-
ward compartment whose transparent sides re-
vealed to them the glories of the sub-universe through
which they were traveling. From the mind of this
officer there came the command to observe the heavens,
and he watched them narrowly as they gazed through the
windows.

Far below them was a swiftly receding orb that they
knew was the planet Els from which they had been
abducted. The super-microscope had shown them a
similar view of the sphere. But there all familiarity
ceased, for they had not shifted the focus of their in-
strument after discovering the one inhabited electron.
To the left there shone the three suns, the red one dis-
playing a magnificent corona of flaming streamers that
dazzled them with its glory. The two smaller suns,
those of the cold light, had no coronas but shone with
the wavering radiance of enormous mercury vapor lights.
The firmament was of ebon blackness and was dotted
with no less than fifteen major bodies and countless more
distant stars and nebulae. Ahead of them there loomed
a rapidly nearing body that shone with a yellow light
and about which revolved two smaller bodies, one of
a greenish hue and the other the same tint as the parent
body. The speed of the pirate vessel must have been
terrific, for the shifting of size and position of the visi-
ble bodies was inconceivably rapid. They would arrive
at their destination very soon indeed.

“It is as I thought,” the mental message of the Kama
interrupted their thoughts. “My Prags were mistaken.
Thou hast told them truth. Thy thoughts are entirely
unfamiliar with this system as well as with Oc, the
island universe out beyond the twenty-seven planets.
For this thou shalt be saved and shall commune with the
scientists of Pra. Long have they theorized on the
possible existence of universes within universes, of mat-
ter divided and sub-divided to the point where little
exists save empty space. Thou comest from a vaster
universe wherein our system is but an infinitely small
particle. Is it not so?”

Minott stared agape. “It is true, Kama,” he said,

He made the final adjustments to the appor
ratus, directing the reflectors of the Rollin
mechanism to include a tiny disc he had at-
tached to the super-microscope. Grayson was
somewhat apprehenswe as he watched the set-
ting of the time switch, but he had no thought
of reconsidering

MICROCOSMIC BUCCANEERS

685

“but little did we think to find theories similar to our
own in this realm, nor to find a combination of savagery
and enlightenment such as the inhabitants of Pra seem
to have. What is the meaning of it all?”

“It is an inheritance from the distant past," came the
unspoken reply. “Not all inhabitants of Pra are Prags,
as we are termed by the Elsians, but the Prags are the
rightful rulers of our universe. It has been thus from
time immemorial. But ruling the universe in peace is an
impossible accomplishment. Therefore we, the chosen
few, dominate by force the remote provinces of Pra it-
self and the entire universe of which it is part. This
we do by swooping down on the provinces regularly,
levying tribute in the form of man power and of wealth.
It is divine inheritance, a prerogative none can gainsay.
By the outlanders we are cursed and feared, are termed
buccaneers, pirates, freebooters. Yet it is our right.
The Prags must exist not by labor but by their superior
mentality. The inferior races of our system must pay
constant homage and provide us with the living and
luxuries that are ours by divine right.”

“You meet with no resistance?” asked Minott.

“Occasionally. But it is futile. The outlanders are
not sufficiently clever to outwit the omnipotent, omnis-
cient Prags.”

Grayson sputtered his wrath. “Of all the conceited,
vicious tommy-rot I ever listened to, this is the vilest.
The Prags are nothing but drones— drones that sting
however, and that live by the labors and sufferings of
the less fortunate. Possibly those ugly skulls of yours
contain more gray matter, but the Elsians have the better
qualities. They have kindness, love, and tolerance in
their make-up, whereas the Prag is utterly devoid of the
finer feelings. It is a disgusting exhibition of evolution
as a coldly scientific proposition — without pity, without
tenderness, without love. Instead of the gods you have
set yourselves up to be, you are monsters that should
be destroyed. Would that some power could blast you
from the universe ; destroy your ugly bodies and minds —
not your souls, for you have none.”

Grayson breathed hard as he concluded. Minott feared
mightily for the result of this bitter speech. But the
unspoken reply was without rancor.

“Thou hads’t done better to save thy breath,” it came
through to their minds. “Thy feelings are known. The
mental attitude registers with us far more easily than
useless speech which we can riot hear. But it is par-
doned ; it is expected ; it is merely the hatred of the slave
for its master. However, you two will prove interesting
and valuable to our Great Ones, whom you shall soon
visit. From them you can hide nothing.”

There was no adequate reply, so the two earth men
remained mute, staring moodily at the great shining
sphere that now loomed "so large in the heavens. The
Kama podded and the Prag who had brought them to
his presence came in and led them back to their cell.

A voice greeted them from the darkness as the door
clanged to behind them, the soft voice that now spoke
their language.

“What is to be your fate?” it inquired solicitously.

“We are to meet the Great Ones, whosoever they may
be,” replied Grayson. “We are to tell them of the world
from which we come and to discuss science with them.”

“That is a far happier fate than ours,” came the gentle
voice, “You should be thankful that your lives are not to
be sacrificed in the mines and workshops of the Prags,
as are ours. We have no hope.”

“Is that what becomes of the captives from your
land ?” asked Minott. “Surely the few of you who are
with us in this cell would not be sufficient excuse for the
raiding trip of this immense ship.”

“We are doomed to hard labor under conditions of
such grueling severity that our lives are shortened to
less than half their normal span,” spoke the voice, “And
as to the number of the captives, we five are but a small
proportion. There are four great prison cells in these
vessels. Each contains one hundred Elsians. We five
are merely an overflow and were thrown in this small
cell with you two because there was not room. They
have also brought large quantities of precious metals
from our city.”

“What rotten scoundrels they are!” exclaimed Gray-
son. “Do such raids occur often?”

“Only often enough to replenish their stores and to
replace the workers who have died off in their misery.
But there is also the raid, or rather the expected visit,
when they compel us to give up three hundred of our
fairest maidens. This occurs once during each revolu-
tion of Els.”

“Once a year!” exclaimed Grayson. “Good grief,
do they take your women for mating purposes?”

“No. Merely for their amusement — to grace their
debauches and orgies, and to die, before their time, of
shame and of physical decay brought about by the life
they are forced to lead. No, the Prags do not mate
with our women. That would pollute the strain they
have so carefully evolved through eons of time.”

“Horrible !” exploded Grayson. “Can nothing be done
to forestall them? Have you not retaliated? Can you
not organize man power and materials to destroy these
beasts ?”

“Hush !” replied the Elsian. “We must not speak of
such things. Our every word may even now be going
on record and be used against us. There are plans, but
we must not speak of them.”

Grayson and Minott shivered with horror at the tale
of the Elsian. Neither replied. And then they felt a
retardation of the speed of the vessel. It came to a sud-
den stop.

“We are about to land,” spoke the invisible Elsian.

“Yes, in the land of the Prags,” said Grayson, with
loathing in his voice.

The

T he scene on the landing stage in the city of the
Prags will remain forever impressed on the minds
of the two earth men. A vast, mirror-like surface
it presented and there were gathered thousands of the
misshapen creatures to welcome the return of the raiding
vessel with its load of treasure and prisoners. The sea
of pink, upturned expanses of flesh that were containers
merely for the huge brains and the staring optics over-
came them with nausea. To think that these monstrosi-
ties were in the ascendancy over the handsome and
kindly Elsians!

They were sickened at the brutal handling of their
more than four hundred fellow prisoners and Grayson
cried his rage aloud at sight of a number of aggravated
cases in the prodding and beating of stragglers and re-
bellious captives. The three suns shone on the scene
with even greater brilliance than they had in Els —
evidently Pra was considerably closer. The atmosphere
was heavy and foul as opposed m the sweet-scented, in-

686

AMAZING STORIES

vigorating air of Els. There was a haze over everything
and the humidity was such as to bring beads of perspira-
tion to the brows of the earth men. In perfect uniform-
ity on all sides of the great landing stage, there rose
towering buildings of ebon blackness — not the glossy
black of jet, but a dead, lifeless charcoal that reflected
so little light as to cast a pall of gloom about them.

In the confusion attendant upon the landing and the
disposal of the Elsian prisoners, Grayson and Minott
had drawn aside unhindered and apparently unnoticed.
They were now approached by the Kama and, by exer-
cise of his will, he compelled them to follow him. They
walked through staring crowds of the detestable Prags
and entered one of the gloomy buildings at the edge
of the landing stage.

No hand was laid on them, yet they were forced to
proceed in the desired direction as inexorably as if they
had been bound and carried. They were taken' into a
lift which soon bore them to the uppermost portion of
the structure. There, on the top level under a vast ex-
panse of the transparent material used in the windows
of the ship, they were brought to the Great Ones. The
huge compartment was a veritable conservatory. It
bloomed with strange and rank vegetation. Tall, ser-
pentine growths of ghastly gray hue spread sickly fronds
to the uppermost heights under the transparent covering
overhead. The earth men wrinkled their nostrils in re-
vulsion at the offensive odors of the plant life that was
evidently admired by the Prags. They moved slowly
through a passageway between the growths and soon
reached a sort of dais on which there were three cush-
ioned divans set in triangular formation in the full glare
of the Pragian sun. On these reposed the Great Ones.

Mere brains were the Great Ones. Their bodies were
shrunken beyond all belief and the huge, semi-trans-
parent heads lay helpless amongst the cushions, the im-
mense eyes presenting the only evidence of life in the
weird beings.

The Kama bowed low and Grayson and Minott per-
force followed suit, though they raged inwardly. In
stupefied silence they peered into the eyes of the Great
Ones, and, for the first time, Grayson observed the
nature of the blue rims about the unblinking orbs of
these, the highest type of Prags. They were porous
areas, and the minute pores opened and closed rhythmi-
cally ! They were the breathing organs of the uncouth
things ! But the discovery detracted not one whit from
the hypnotic effect of the bloodshot eyes.

“Beings from the great outside universe,” came the
thoughts of one of the Great Ones, they knew not which,
“you come at an opportune time. We have but re-
cently discovered the existence of your universe and
would learn more of its extent and peculiarities from
recent dwellers therein. We would likewise know how
your advent into our system was accomplished. Speak.”

Minott replied, “Our universe is to yours as is yours
to a grain of sand by the seashore. We entered by
means of an extremely powerful microscope and the
fourth dimension.”

“Thy first statement is understood and conceded. But
as to the second, there is some doubt. Concentrate on
this instrument of which thou speakest, that we may
read of its construction and operation.”

Grayson exploded, “Don’t do it, Minott. The- beasts
will try to reverse the process and enter our own system.”

“Objections are useless,” replied Minott to his hot-
headed ward. Then he continued in an elaborate de-

scription of the super-microscope while Grayson fumed
and fretted at the seemingly indiscreet speech of the
scientist.

“It is well,” came the approving thoughts of the Great
Ones, “Thou hast the intelligence to know that the in-
formation should have been purloined from thy very
brain hadst thou not given it willingly. But it is enough
for the present. We shall commuhe further at a later
time. Meanwhile thy friend is condemned to the mines.
He is of inferior intellect.”

Minott protested sorrowingly. Grayson endeavored
to attack the monstrosities that lay so smugly among
their cushions, but the mysterious power once more
gripped him and he was led helpless from the presence
of the Great Ones. Minott’s eyes followed sadly.

T he treatment accorded the scientist was greatly
different. At a command from the Great Ones,
two slaves entered their presence and were ordered to
convey him to certain living (juarters. To Minott’s de-
light, these slaves were Elsians who had kindly human
countenances, and seemed overjoyed at being permitted
to serve a creature so like their own kind.

He was conveyed to rooms tliat, but for the difference
in colors and kinds of materials used, might have been
in his own land. But he walked the floor with his mind
constantly on Grayson. The two Elsians stood aside
patiently, as they observed the dejection of their new
master.

Clearly to him then came the mental message, “You
are worried about a friend?”

Minott peered startled at the nearest of the Elsians
who was smiling commiseratingly. “Er — yes,” he said
hesitatingly. “My friend from another world, who has
been condemned to the mines.”

“Speak further,” came the encouraging message. And
Minott poured out his heart to the gravely listening
Elsians. He told of Grayson’s childhood, of his later
life, of the experiment that had brought them to Els and
resulted in their capture by the Prags. He concluded
with a hopeless note, as he told of the scene in the place
of the Great Ones.

“Fear not,” came in perfect English when he had
finished, “the time is close at hand. Grayson will be
rescued, as will all of our people when the great day
comes. You have but to be patient and obey all com-
mands of the Great Ones. Through our secret system
of communication, we shall learn of the whereabouts of
your friend and arrange for the interchange of messages
between you and him.”

Minott was astounded at the facility with which this
Elsian had learned his own tongue — more easily than
had. the first in the space ship. But he was elated at the
hope held forth and was about to make eager reply
when there came an insistent buzz from close by.

One of the Elsians left the room hurriedly and the
other — he who had spoken — laid a warning finger to his
lips and busied himself with the appurtenances of a
dressing table. Minott knew not what to expect.

There was complete silence for a moment. Then two
Prags entered the room, bearing between them a golden
sphere of the diameter of a large pumpkin. With a curt
nod from one of them, the Elsian servant was dismissed
and they set the shimmering globe on a table.

Drawn to the beautiful polished object by an irresisti-
ble force, the scientist found himself gazing into depths
of wavering brightness that soon resolved into scenes

MICROCOSMIC BUCCANEERS

687

on the other electron planet, Els. With great rapidity
the scenes shifted, outlining in rapid succession an entire
continent and picturing city after city similar to the one
they had first seen. Rural districts were also covered,
particular attention being paid to the vicinities of small
bodies of water. Then suddenly he recognized the local-
ity they had been observing through the super-micro-
scope. His start of recollection brought about the im-
mediate cessation of the action of the sphere and a
mental message came at once from one of the Prags :

“It is well. The location of the ray is determined.”
They marched solemnly from the room without fur-
ther ado, taking the golden sphere with them. The clang
of the door as they left brought a sense of dire forebod-
ing to Minott and he stared helplessly about the lonely
rooms.

Among the Elsians

F or several days Grayson labored with pick and
shovel in an underground passage that was so nar-
row and stifling that he was too exhausted each
night to even think of the fate that had befallen him.
The material he was wresting from narrow veins in the
damp wall of rock was radioactive — no light was needed
in these workings — and he knew that his life would be
.short indeed if he were forced to continue in this place.
He had been put into the most dangerous of all the
mines. But the physical presence of the Prags was
escaped during the long hours of labor, and this was a
relief of a sort, though the force of distant wills kept
him doggedly at his task. The Prags never entered the
diggings where the mineral that supplied them with their
main source of energy was obtained.

Then came a day when the Elsian who worked next
to him spoke to him in his own tongue. A message had
come from above — a message from Minott! It was
wonderful !

The scientist was well, it seemed, and wished to in-
form his friend that powerful forces were at work
which would eventually bring about their release from
Pra and their return to Els. He was bidden to keep
courage.

“But,” asked Grayson, “how has this message been
relayed to you?”

“By word of mouth entirely. It has passed on from
an Elsian servant of your friend and has undoubtedly
been repeated a score of times on its way to this re-
mote working. We have perfected among the captives
a secret system of communication that serves the pur-
pose admirably, though it is somewhat slow.”

“The message gives word of help to come,” said Gray-
son. “What does this mean ?”

“It means this,” replied Oril, for that was the cogno-
men of his new friend. “The prisoners on this accursed
island have formed plans that will eventually result in
the destruction of the Prags and in the liberation of
themselves. They will result in the halting of the age-
long piracy to which our worlds have been subjected,
and in the salvation of the civilizations that have for so
long a time been under the lash.”

“By what means is this to be done ?”

“I cannot divulge the secret until you have been ad-
mitted to our council. But this will be soon, and I can
tell you that the vulnerability of the Prags has been dis-
covered, and that Els and the two satellites of Pra, as
well as the outlying provinces of Pra itself, are banded

together to end the dominance of these creatures for
once and all.”

“You spoke of an island,” said Grayson, “Do you
mean that the Prags inhabit no part of this planet ex-
cept a single island ?”

“That is correct. The island is known to us as Capis
and it comprises less than one tenth of the total habit-
able surface of Pra. The outlying provinces are popu-
lated sparsely and by a miserable race of downtrodden
creatures, who were subject to the banditry of the Prags
for ages, before they discovered the means of traversing
space and transferred their major activities to the other
inhabited bodies of our system. The provinces have been
bled dry and the peoples are hopelessly retarded in
their civilization. They resemble us in appearance,
though their skin is of much darker hue, and in some
sections they have almost reverted to savagery. But
all of that is to be clianged also.”

“This council of which you spoke. When and where
does it meet?”

“At present there is a meeting every night in one of
the deepest levels of the mines. But each night those
present are a different group and word of the proceed-
ings is carried over to the next night by a single member
who thus attends two meetings in succession. This is
necessary in order that the Prags shall not suspect us
of such activities as they surely would, if any consider-
able number of us were absent from our quarters on a
single evening. Of course we are aided in this by the
fact that they feel absolutely secure in their diabolic
tyranny over us, and so do not anticipate a rebellion
of serious nature. They underestimate the courage
and mentality of the long-suffering outlanders, and are
thus thrown more or less off guard by their own colossal
conceit.”

The conversation was interrupted by the shrill siren
that called the workers to the evening meal — the siren
that told them of the completion of the long day of
labor. The two were soon in the great bucket that car-
ried them to the surface, along with some fifty more of
their fellow prisoners.

G rayson pondered over the things he had heard all
through the nightly inspection and during the meal
that was presided over so strictly by a number of lower
class Prags. These were not of the type that possessed
the intense power of will over the prisoners, but en-
forced their dicta by free use of the lash and in
aggravated cases of insubordination, by the use of the
ray pistols they carried at their belts; Grayson had once
seen one of these weapons used and he carried horrified
remembrance of its action in his mind. The unfortunate
victim of the crackling blue flare that greeted a minor
insolence, had crumpled before his eyes into a heap of
putrefaction that rapidly shrank to complete and terrible
dissolution. He shuddered anew at the thought and was
unable to finish his food.

But the words of Oril had cheered him, though he
was doubtful of the ability of the Elsians and other out-
landers to conquer these monstrosities, who were pos-
sessed of such marvelous mental powers and had evi-
dently been lords of the tiny universe for ages of time.

Later in the evening, when the three suns had set and
the prisoners were herded to their underground quarters,
he received word from Oril that he was expected to at-
tend the meeting of the council to be held late that night.
He was elated over the news and could scarcely remain

688

AMAZING STORIES

quietly in his bunk until the time set for his adventuring
forth from the huge bunk room into the dark passages
where he was to be led to the meeting place of the con-
spirators. Oril had given him explicit directions and he
knew that he would have no trouble in joining the guide
who was to await him. His neighbors were asleep on
the low cots that were provided by the Prags in all the
bunk rooms, and the lone guard was nodding in the dim-
lit corner of the long hall. The faint whimpers of a
sick prisoner, a few cots from his own, had ceased and
Grayson hoped that the poor devil had found relief from
his sufferings in the mercy of death.

Then there was the padding of soft footsteps and in
the dim light he saw that two of the upper class Prags
had entered and were conferring with the guard, who
had started guiltily from his nap at their approach. The
newcomers were led through the long aisle and Grayson’s
heart missed a beat as they neared him where he lay.
He feigned sleep and when the brilliant beams of a hand
torch were turned on him he opened blinking eyes to
their glare. He was discovered as a conspirator, and
would never know the plans of the brave band which
was setting out to free the worlds they knew from the
iron hand of the oppressor!

There was the single command to follow, so he arose
from his hard couch and obeyed the order in silence.
There was nothing else he could do.

He was conducted to the surface and taken to a small,
brightly lighted landing stage where one of the tiny,
bird-like air vehicles of Capis awaited. In a moment
they had winged their way aloft and were headed for the
lights of the city of the Great Ones. What was to be
his fate Grayson did not know, nor did he much care —
now. He had scented adventure and it was to be denied
him. He had hoped to engage in the battle for freedom
that Oril had hinted was coming. But he was quite
evidently doomed to disappointment and worse.

The drone of the motor and the swish of the flapping
wings of the vessel that carried them swiftly toward the
city were the only sounds to disturb his train of gloomy
thought. The Prags, mute always, did not explain by
mental message the reason for his move from the mines
back to the city. But he suspected that his and Oril’s
conversation was known to the Great Ones and that he
was to answer to them for his part in it.

Beneath them circled the lights of the great city as the
ship swung around to effect a landing. The motor had
stopped and they swooped with a rush toward a black
square that was outlined by a fringe of orange light.
It rushed upward to meet them and it seemed they would
surely crash. Then there was a single powerful beat of
the broad wings and the little craft alighted without a
jar. Below them was the transparent roof of the head-
quarters of the Great Ones.

Grayson Comes Back

G rayson, with rebellion and fury in his heart,
neared the throne where lay the three arch-pirates
of the atom universe. He longed to lay hands
on one of the vile creatures and tear him limb from
limb. And when he saw the haggard face of his friend
Minott, who sat at a small table adjacent to the dais, he
clenched his fists, as if about to carry out his rash desire.
Quick as a flash there came the paralyzing of the muscles
that was produced so easily by some mental process of
the ghastly creatures, and a single unspoken warning that

seemed to come from within his own consciousness:

“Cease thy futile ragings,’’ came the adjuration, “The
plans of the Great Ones have altered to thy good. No
longer shalt thou labor in the mines. This night thou
shalt depart for Els in one of our space ships and in the
company of thy friend. Minott has been of much assis-
tance to us and, in gratitude, we have granted his wish
that thou mayst be permitted to join him in this expedi-
tion of our scientists. That is all.”

Grayson’s tense muscles relaxed. Then they did not
know of his talk with Oril! But he cast the thought
from his mind at once, fearing to betray himself to their
uncanny faculties. Minott smiled wanly and greeted him
with open arms. Evidently he too had suffered and
continued to suffer.

They were dismissed immediately by the Great Ones
and repaired to Minott’s quarters to prepare for the
journey.

“What is it all about?” asked Grayson, when their
affectionate greetings were over.

“It is a plan to attack our own world,” came the hope-
less reply, “and we are to assist them and act a-s their
guides when they reach there — if they do. I was com-
pelled to give them all of my data regarding the super-
miscroscope and the four-dimensional means used by
us in reaching this system. They learned from me the
location of the ray of my super-microscope where it
still impinges on the planet Els at the edge of the lake.
Their scientists have calculated that the process can be
reversed, and they have constructed a duplicate of the
Rollin apparatus in accordance with my description
of the mechanism. They reason that they can utilize
the ray that still connects the point we were watching in
Els with my laboratory at home, and they plan to send
one of their space ships, manned and armed, to oui^
world along this beam.”

“Is such a thing possible?” gasped Grayson.

“I fear that it is, my boy. You see the time-space
relationship can as well be altered in one direction as
in the other. By the same means that we adapted our-
selves to conditions on this plane, they should be able to
adapt themselves to conditions on our own. I can pick
no flaw in their calculations, and I am mortally afraid
that this unspeakable banditry of theirs is to be extended
to our own country. The worst of it is, we are helpless
to prevent them.”

“But — but,” objected the younger man, “if one of
these space ships of the Prags is rotated into the hyper-
physical plane and then emerges in your laboratory, it
will be of enormous size. It can not occupy the avail-
able space, if it is of the same proportions there as it is
here.”

“It will burst the walls of the laboratory like a chicken
breaking forth from an egg and will lie exposed to the
sky amid the debris of a great section that will have
been torn from the upper surface of our own New York.
You forget that my laboratory is in the extreme upper
level and that the walls and floors of our city structure
will crumple like glass against the sides of a vessel of
more than 1000 feet in length and with walls as hard as
steel and of more than five feet thickness — suddenly
thrust in their midst as it will be.”

Grayson groaned. He was heart-sick over the change
that had come to the beloved features of his foster-
father. Minott had aged ten years, it seemed, during
the few days they had been in this awful realm. He
thought too of the terrible engine of destruction to be

MICROCOSMIC BUCCANEERS

689

let loose on an unsuspecting world — and of others to
follow, for the Prags would not stop at one if the initial
venture proved to be a success. >

“Is there no way of stopping the brutes?” he asked.

“None that I can think of. Of course we must do
everything we can to upset their plans, but I am afraid
we are helpless.”

There came the sound of the buzzer and Minott paled
to a still more ghastly color. “It is the signal,” he said,
“They are ready.”

The two earth men hurried to the great landing stage
in the heart of the city and there entered one of the shiny
cylindrical vessels, of which Minott had learned there
were seven in existence. This time they were not carried
as prisoners but as more or less unwelcome, but tolerated
guests. They were quartered on the same deck with the
nine scientists sent by the Great Ones to complete the
plans for sending an expedition into the “Outside Uni-
verse.” Before they had even settled themselves in
their cabins, the ship had taken off and they were on
their way to Els, When the Great Ones determined
that a thing was to be done, little delay was brooked.

All through the remainder of the night the two men
talked, when they should have been resting in their beds.
They had been separated for more than a week and each
had much to tell the other. It was a matter of great
speculation between them as to what the plans of the
“outlanders” were for the overthrowing of the power
of the Great Ones and the destruction of the entire
breed of Prags. The slight information given to Gray-
son by Oril was supplemented by but little more that
Minott had learned from his Elsian servants. But it
was certain that the outlanders were confident of ulti-
mately ridding themselves of their ancient enemy and
that the day for the culmination of their plans was close
at hand. Whether it was to come quickly enough to
forestall the Prags in this new venture they did not know.
And they discussed matters until the Prag vessel slipped
into the dawn-brightened atmosphere of Els.

The vessel was soon close to the surface and the earth
men joined the Prags, who had assembled in the forward
compartment, where the transparent floors gave them
a full view of the scene beneath and where the rising
of the first sun could be seen through the transparent
side walls. The first dawn of Els reminded them of
moonrise on their own world, for the quality of light
was similar, though of greater intensity. It would be
several minutes before the second of the cold suns rose
and one twelfth of an Elsian day before the red glare
of the third sun greeted them. The ship was skimming
the surface rapidly at an altitude comparable to about
one thousand feet above the surface as measured on
earth, and the peaceful countryside below showed signs
of the early activities of the day. Here and there a
farmer with his flock of quadrupeds strangely resembling
sheep was thrown into a panic at the passage of the
pirate vessel, and at several points early travelers in high
speed vehicles that traversed the shining roads deserted
their cars and fled into adjacent forests in fright at the
same vision. But the ship from Pra kept steadily on,
and within a short time they saw far ahead a scene that
seemed vaguely familiar. Closer they drew and, as the
vessel slowed down, they saw they were nearing the
lake they had seen through the super-microscope in
Minott’s laboratory. They were overhead of it in a
trice and the great ship circled about to make a landing.
Several Elsians who walked by the shore of the lake

ran in affright for their homes — mere huts and cabins
that were set back a little distance from the shore.

“The point of focus of the super-microscope!” ex-
claimed Minott.

He looked at Grayson with blanched features and
their hearts sank at the realization that they were about
to land in this spot, where they would be compelled to
assist their captors in preparing for a piratical raid on
their own world.

Preparations in Els

W ITH the coming of the pirate vessel to the shore
of their lake, the neighboring villagers expected
the worst. Knowing there was no escaping the
gases and the paralyzing forces of the enemy, they did
not attempt to flee the vicinity, but they retreated within
doors to postpone their certain doom for as long a time
as possible. And when, on the second day, they observed
that they were not to be molested, but that the Prags
were erecting strange mechanisms in the open outside
the space-ship and covering these over with rude shelters,
a few of the bolder ones ventured forth from the homes
to learn what it was all about. They were still un-
molested and they gazed in open-mouthed wonder at
the sight of a considerable number of Prags actually at
work, laboring with their hands in feverish haste. They
were still more astonished to see that the earth-men, of
whom they had heard through the medium of their
local news broadcast, were aiding the hated Prags. It
seemed that there was some difficulty with the apparatus
being erected and they saw that the higher class Prags
were greatly perturbed over some unforeseen trouble.

As the days passed and nothing happened beyond
occasional relocating of the odd contrivances and further
adjustments of their parts, some of the natives went so
far as to gather around the scene of activity and watch
the proceedings with bold curiosity. Upon seeing that
the Elsians were given little attention by the busy Prags,
Grayson made it a point to wander away from the work
several times and mingle with the watchers. In this
manner he struck up an acquaintance with one Atar,
who seemed to be an Elsian of some standing in the
community and who mastered Grayson’s speech in a
very short time as had been done by others of his coun-
trymen. He made friends quickly with the villagers
and advised them as to the meaning of the strange pro-
ceedings in the open space at the shore of the lake. In
turn he was told much of the plans of the outlanders
for conquering the Prags and he learned that the day of
reckoning was not far off, though it was more than
thirty days in the future, and he felt certain that the
experiment with the Rollin apparatus and the focus ray
of the super-microscope would be successful long before
that time.

He told Minott of these things in the privacy of their
cabin aboard the space ship and the scientist was deeply
concerned over this fraternizing with the Elsians.

“Grayson,” he warned, “these Prags are possessed of
uncanny faculties and, though they are now so deeply
engrossed in the work at hand as to pay little attention,
one of the lower class is apt to surprise you in treach-
erous conversation one of these fine days and you will
pay the penalty at the receiving end of one of their
horrible dissolution rays.”

“I’ll be careful. And besides, I like these people and
wish to be friends with them. Our case looks hopeless
anyway and if I can do nothing to prevent the atrocities

690

AMAZING STORIES

of these monsters, I can at least show that my heart is
in the right place, until such time as the fate overtakes
me that is bound to come sooner or later in any event.
How is the work progressing?”

“Well, as you know, the reflectors were reset today
and the apparatus readjusted. The energy was tried on
a test specimen, one of the small rodents they brought
with them, and the result left them more worried than
ever. The rodent passed into the hyperphysical plane
all right, but was returned fearfully distorted and in a
dying condition. This has given them pause.”

“You old fox,” chuckled Grayson, “I’ll bet you threw
a monkey wrench in the gears somewhere.”

“No,” was the solemn reply, “I did nothing of the
sort. I must admit, however, that I see a fault in the
apparatus about which I have not advised them. Fortunate
it is that the Great Ones are not here, for they would
have read it out of my mind. These Prags have not the
mind-reading faculty to so great a degree as have the
Great Ones, and I find that I can hide my thoughts from
them fairly well.”

“Then you think the ultimate success of the project
may be delayed for a considerable time?”

“Possibly. But not for long, my boy. These arch-
fiends are devilishly clever and they will stumble on to
the difficulty in short order — at least within the next
ten days, I should say.”

“Is it absolutely certain that the ray of the super-
microscope is still in operation ?” ,

“Absolutely. By means of the balvanometers, we
have located the exact center of impingement and have
mapped the entire circle of its influence, which extends
well past the village and outlines the view just as we
witnessed it back home. There is no question of the
workability of their plan, once the Rollin apparatus is
in perfect working condition.”

Grayson looked moodily from the open window toward
the lights of the village. The sweet breath of the Elsian
countryside was wafted to his grateful nostrils. How he
wished that conditions were different — that he might be
free to roam about as he pleased and explore this in-
viting planet they had so rashly visited. But the arm
of the Prag was long, and he knew he could not get
far away if he attempted to escape. Besides there was
Minott — and the threatened expedition against his own
land.

Through the stillness of the Elsian night there came
a faint wavering tremolo — a feminine cry that rose in
rapid crescendo to a wailing scream. The two earth men
were electrified to tense expectancy but the cry was not
repeated.

“By George!” exclaimed Grayson. “That cry came
from the village and I’m going to find out what it is
all about!”

“Steady now,” admonished Minott. “How do you
expect to pass the guard at the door of the vessel?”

Grayson was busy pulling the bedclothes from their
bunks. “Not going to,” he grunted, “I’m going out the
window.”

And, all protests of his friend notwithstanding, he
made good his statement. Quickly he knotted the sheets
and coverlets into a rope of considerable length and this
he let out through the open window. Bidding Minott
a hasty farewell after tying the makeshift line to the
ring used for fastening the window, he let himself down
to the ground and made off through the darkness in the
direction of the village.

Reaching the fenced-in grass plot that was the gather-
ing place of the small town, he found that considerable
excitement centered about the loud speakers of the local
news broadcast receiver. A crowd had collected and
angry shouts and protests came from every side. A
little group in the center of the square was huddled
about a prone figure and Grayson pushed his way
through until he saw that an extremely beautiful Elsian
maiden lay stretched on the grass in a faint. Over her
bent Atar, his friend of the past few days.

“What is it, Atar?” he asked, when close enough to
get the ear of the obviously agitated Elsian.

“Lola — my daughter Lola,” groaned the stricken man.
“She has been chosen for the next lot of three hundred.
In six days she will be torn from her home and taken
to Capis — a slave to the beasts we hate. And in so short
a time we should have prevented it !”

Grayson observed the smooth pallor of the girl’s skin,
her perfect features, the glossy sheen of her hair as it
spread over her shoulders where she lay. Then her
breast rose and, with a deep sigh, she turned her head
in his direction and slowly opened the most wondrous
pair of violet eyes he had ever seen. Atar clasped her
in his arms convulsively and sobbed like a child.

“By God !” swore Grayson, “they’ll not get her !”

Lola

I ATE that night Grayson returned to his cabin in
the same way he had left. Minott was sleeping the
sleep of exhaustion, so he had no one in whom he
could confide. But he did not awaken his friend, preferring
to fret and toss in his own bunk rather than disturb him.
Finally he drifted into troubled slumber, into dreams
of the beautiful Lola who had looked at him so plead-
ingly, dreams of the Prags and of frightful battles with
them, in which he fought to protect the lovely daughter
of Atar. His tortured mind was not resting for a
moment, even in sleep. He dreamed of Minott — dear
old Minott — and the scientist seemed to be delivering
one of his early talks to the younger man. He told of
the composition of matter, of molecules and atoms and
electrons — of the universe of the atom where the elec-
trons were the bodies that revolved about the central
sun or nucleus. It came to him that an atom was so
small, that if magnified as much as ten billion times — the
second stage power of the super-microscope — the outer
electrons would appear to be as much as three feet from
the nucleus, yet the nucleus itself was still no larger
than a pin point. It was all a muddle, yet in his slwmbers
he knew that all these things were actually transpiring
on a minute world that was nothing more than an elec-
tron in an atom of unidentified matter contained in a
grain of sand that lay on the slide of Minott’s super-
microscope in the New York laboratory.

In the morning he awoke unrefreshed and the first
thing he did was to advise Minott of the happenings
of the night.

“Worse and more of it,” groaned the scientist. *T
thought the annual tribute of three hundred girls was
not due for forty-five days.”

“So did I. That is what I was told, and the day of
reckoning was purposely set for a few days before that
time to prevent this very occurrence.”

“Well, my boy, we are between the devil and the
deep blue sea. Here we are helping the brutes in their
attempt to raid our own world and at the same time

MICROCOSMIC BUCCANEERS

691

you have gone to work and fallen in love with this
Elsian damsel who is about to be abducted. Meanwhile
the decent folks of this little universe are about to make
a break for freedom and the break will be too late to save
your new girl.”

Minott’s eyes twinkled despite the hopelessness of the
situation and Grayson could not repress the flush that
mantled his features.

“But what can we do ?” he countered. “I’ll admit that
this Lola has made a great impression on me and by
George they are not going to get her if I can prevent it.
But what can we do?”

Minott spoke solemnly now. “Don’t do anything
rash, Grayson,” he advised. “Keep your eyes open and
use your best judgment, but do not forget that we have
a powerful enemy to deal with. Our first duty is to
our own world, but of course we can do very little to
prevent the Frags from carrying out their present plans.
Probably the best thing is to submit to things as they are
and trust that not too great damage will be accomplished
on this initial venture into our universe. Then, when
they return from the trip, it will be about time for the
action planned by the outlanders and further trouble will
thus be averted.”

“But dammit, Minott, that doesn’t save Lola. And
she must be saved. I — I want her.”

“You poor boy! Is it as bad as that?”

“Yes.” Grayson kicked savagely at the towel he had
just dropped.

“Well, run along to the village then and see what
you can learn. I’ll hold the fort here and — who knows ?”

Grayson needed not to be told a second time and the
older man watched him with misty eyes as he rushed
from the compartment in his haste to be gone.

It was very early and the Frags were late risers, so
Grayson did not anticipate any interference with his
leaving the vessel. But when he came to the entrance,
he found some little difficulty in convincing the guard,
that he was merely going for a morning stroll. The
guard was one of the lower class of Frags and could
not understand the earthman’s thoughts unless he was
actually speaking. It seemed that the spoken words,
though the Frags heard them not, were a medium that
facilitated the telepathic process. And when Grayson
turned the latch of the door, this low-class Frag laid
violent hands on him. Quick as a flash the earth man
had him by the throat and was battering the huge head
against the metal partition. The Frag fell unconscious
and Grayson, stopping only to take the ray pistol from
his belt, rushed from the ship and made for the village.

H e had crossed the Rubicon ! He knew his life was
now forfeit but he was armed. And he was on his
way to Lola, come what might.

Atar met him at the cottage door with a smile on his
face and Lola’s greeting was such as to cause him to
flush with pleasure. The girl was radiant and the father
hardly less so, for during the night there had come a
message from Arun, capital city of the province, calling
all of the three hundred maidens to the city with their
parents. It was stated in the message that action was
to be taken to prevent the turning over of the annual
tribute to the Frags, and this statement accounted for
the happiness of father and daughter.

Grayson told of his skirmish with the guard of the
.vessel and offered to accompany them on their visit to
Arun, since it was now necessary for him to leave the

vicinity in any event, and he felt that he might be of
some service in their company. Atar welcomed the offer
and Lola’s downcast eyes told of her surprise and pleas-
ure. The earth man’s heart sang, though full well he knew
that the shadow of death hung over them all. And he
fondly patted the ray pistol where it lay hidden in his
pocket. He did not worry about Minott, for he knew
that the Great Ones considered him too valuable to allow
him to be harmed as long as there was still information
to be obtained from him regarding the outer universe.

The government ronsal, or road vehicle, that was to
call for Lola and her father, arrived in a very short
time. It was a car of considerable length, mounted on
two wheels of a diameter the height of a man, and com-
pletely enclosed in transparent material of crystal clear-
ness. From within there came a musical note that told
of the high speed of the gyroscope used for balancing
the machine. There were four other girls already on
board with their families and with the entrance of Lola
and the two men all available space was filled. The
ronsal started smoothly and was soon rolling over the
surface of the metal road with terrific velocity. Gray-
son learned that it was but a short run to Arun — ^less
than one ul, the unit of time that was the twentieth of
an Elsian day.

The ribbon of gleaming metal, over which they sped,
wound through a beautiful country, but Grayson saw
very little of it. He was too busy gazing into those
violet eyes and watching the lips of the beautiful girl
at his side, as they formed the unfamiliar, yet rapidly
learned syllables of his own tongue. So it was that,
by the time they had reached the walls of Arun, he and
Lola were conversing fluently in English, and he had even
picked up a number of words and phrases of the Elsian
language. Atar observed these things with approval.

Once within the portals of the huge gate that raised
at their approach, they wer# escorted immediately to a
great council chamber where sat the provincial governor
and his deputies. A great assemblage of Elsians was
there and Grayson thought that almost all of the three
hundred chosen beauties had preceded them. But he
failed to see a single maiden that could compare with
Lola, though all of them were undoubtedly charming.

There was a short wait for a few more arrivals, after
which a secretary called the roll. The Governor then
arose and spoke rapidly and forcefully in the Elsian
tongue, becoming much excited and red-faced during
the speech. At its conclusion there came a great cheer
from the assemblage and Grayson noticed that tears of
joy coursed down the cheeks of Atar. Lola translated
to him quickly :

“He says that the government has decided not to let
us be sacrificed” she said happily. “The day of reckon-
ing with the Frags is set ahead and is to be tomorrow,
instead of as planned. We girls are to be kept in Arun
under government protection and our families as well,
while the fighting is going on. The prisoners on Fra
have been notified, as well as the inhabitants of the two
satellites and those of the outlying provinces of Fra
itself.”

“Hooray !” exclaimed Grayson. And he grasped Atar
by the hand and hurried him to the rostrum, where he
requested him to translate his offer of enlistment in the
forces of Arun.

There was some staccato questioning by the Governor
— equally rapid-fire replies from Atar — and Grayson
was accepted.

692 AMAZING

Grayson Joins Forces

N ext morning Grayson was outfitted with the
uniform and equipment of an Elsian soldier. He
was permitted to retain the ray pistol he had
taken from the Prag guard and considerable envy was
displayed by his fellows over its possession. He requested
that he be allowed to bid farewell to Lola and Atar and
this too was granted.

Lola gurgled with delight when she saw him and a big
thrill came to him as she hugged his arm in her glee and
admiration. Atar bid him an affectionate adieu and
thanked him profusely for his help and for the courage
his presence and support had lent. When Lola accom-
panied him to the door of their quarters his cup was
full, and he bent suddenly down and kissed her upturned
lips. Then, in a sudden panic over his temerity, he
raced for the square of Arun where the soldiery was
assembling. Had he looked back, he would have known
that his caress was not unwelcome.

There was a great hullaballoo in the square, and it
seemed that all of the population of the city had turned
out to witness the departure of the expedition. For the
first time Grayson knew what it was all about.

In the center of the square there were two circular pits
and into the mouths of these the soldiers were descend-
ing. Each of the pits contained a space flyer that had
been built secretly during the preceding two years and
there were two others of the same type to set forth
from another city of Els. The Prags were to be taken
by complete surprise.

Grayson joined his unit and was soon within one of
the great spheres, that were so different from the pro-
jectile-shaped vessels of the Prags. The number carried
by each vessel was in excess of five hundred ; including
crew and soldiery. He was extremely interested in the
equipment of the vessel and in the activities of his new
comrades. So, when the confusion had subsided and
the hatches were battened down, he struck up a con-
versation with his commanding officer, using his few
words of Elsian as an entering wedge. He was much
pleased to find that the captain, Erne by name, was able
to pick up his own language almost at once as had been
done by the others with whom he had come in contact.

The ship was under way in a surprisingly short time,
shooting forth from the mouth of the pit like a ball from
the bore of an old-fashioned cannon. They were on
their way to Pra and Grayson was bursting with
curiosity as he questioned the indulgent Erne.

“What is the plan of campaign?” he asked.

“There are four ships leaving Els, two more from
Aun and three from Rad. These are the satellites of
Pra. It is known that all of the fliers of the Prags are
in their own cradles excepting two, one of which is at the
shore of Lake Ho in Els and the other in the province
of Trasa in Pra. We will leave our own people at home
to deal with the one at Lake Ho and the outlanders will
deal with the one at Trasa. But the nine vessels will
attack Capis directly and will be assisted by the prisoners
there who are apprised of our coming and of the change
in plans.”

“But, what weapons are to be used against the Prags?”
“Didn’t you know?” asked Erne in surprise.

“No. I had heard vague hints of a recent discovery
that was expected to prove effective, but I have no
knowledge of its nature.”

Erne withdrew from Grayson’s belt the cylindrical

STORIES

object which had been given to him with the rest of his
equipment.

“You have not been instructed in the use of the
trinor?” he inquired.

“I have not had the opportunity as yet.”

The cylinder was of blued metal and by earthly stand-
ards Grayson would have judged it to be eighteen inches
in length and three in diameter. There was a small
catch at one end and Erne pressed this to demonstrate
the operation of the weapon. There was a shrill sound
from within that rose rapidly in pitch until it was a thin
scream. Then it vanished entirely but the weapon still
vibrated smoothly to the impulses of some mechanism
within.

“The trinor,” said Erne, “sets up sound waves or
vibrations in the atmosphere. As you noticed, the
original sound was audible but gradually rose in pitch
until it passed beyond the normal response of your
auditory organs. But the trinor is still sending forth
powerful waves that disturb the air at the rate of twenty-
five thousand cycles per second. These are the waves
that will destroy the enemy.”

“But how ?” asked Grayson. “The Prags can hear no
sounds of any frequency.”

“True. But you must remember that the Prag was
originally equipped with ears and auditory nerves the
same as you and I. In the course of his evolution
through the ages he learned thought transference and
the ears were no longer necessary. After many genera-
tions of disuse they atrophied and all outer portions
disappeared entirely. But there still remained certain
of the inner parts and these are still in existence. Two
years ago we had three of the enemies in Arun whom
we had taken prisoner during one of their raids and our
scientists experimented with them until they learned
of their susceptibility to the high frequency air waves.
You see it happens that certain tiny bones that are all
that remain of the Prag’s inner ear lie very close to the
great vein that supplies the brain with blood. By subject-
ing the Prag’s body to air waves of the high frequency
I mentioned, these bones are set in vibration and, due
to their contact with the artery against which they lie,
a clot is formed which is carried to the brain and causes
almost instant death — apoplexy.”

“Capital!” exclaimed Grayson. “But are these small
hand weapons the only thing to be used against them?”

“No indeed. Among the prisoners in Capis there are
sufficient of the trinors hidden to account for the guards
below the surface. These are to be used as soon as our
space-fliers reach the island. Then each of the vessels
will swoop down upon the city, emitting the waves from
great generators that are set in the outer hulls. These
will cover considerable areas and will account for many
more of the Prags. The prisoners will then rush to the
city and the vessels will land at the same time, sending
forth their fighting men into the streets. The generators
aboard our ships will keep up constant emission of the
powerful vibrations and the rest will have be done by
hand to hand fighting. Not a Prag must be allowed
to escape.”

Grayson thrilled to the call of battle. The closer they
drew to the planet of the Prags the more bloodthirsty
he became.

“What is our protection against the gases and the ray
pistols of the Prags?” he inquired.

"Against the gases we have newly perfected masks
which will be supplied before we land. Against the ray

X

MICROCOSMIC

pistol there is nothing. But we hope there will be few
left to use such weapons by the time our large generators
have gotten in their cleaTlly work.”

“What are the odds against us — in numbers I mean ?”

“About nine to one including the prisoners. On the
ships there are forty-five hundred fighters and there are
about twice this number of prisoners in Capis. There
are one hundred and twenty thousand Prags, so the
ratio I mentioned is approximately correct.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Grayson.

A lieutenant was distributing the gas masks and this
brought their conversation to an end. The captain busied
himself with the radiophone instrument through which
his orders were to come, and the soldiers gathered about
the windows where they were able to see the island of
Capis with its black central city. The ship was crossing
the end of the island and several others of the great
spheres could be seen converging on the same point — ^the
city.

There was a sudden vibration accompanying a tre-
mendous, high-pitched scream from somewhere in the
ship’s vitals. Like the scream of the trinor this rose
and vanished, but the vibration persisted. The fight
was about to begin !

The End of the Great Ones

G rayson felt one of the gas masks thrust Into
•his hand but he was too excited to pay much at-
tention. His face was pressed to the window
and he saw that several of the flapping-winged craft
of the Prags were approaching their own vessel. So
close did they come, that he was able to see the ghastly
bulbous heads of the two Prags who occupied the nearest.
Then he saw one of them go limp and slump forward
in his seat. The second followed suit and the wings
flapped crazily, out of control. The bird-like mechanism
flew drunkenly and then dashed headlong to earth send-
ing up a cloud of dust as it crashed. The others of the
curious squadron quickly joined it ai d - le knew that the
wave generators of their vessels were a success.

Along the several roads that entered the city could be
seen scurrying groups of Elsians and kindred beings
from Rad and Aun. These were the prisoners, rush-
ing from the mines and workshops in accordance with
the plan.

Then they were over the city and the nine spheres
circled and swooped, their wave generators operating
at full capacity. From the square there rose one of the
cylindrical Prag fliers and it headed directly toward
Grayson’s vessel. With a quick spurt the great sphere
rose and allowed the pointed metal cylinder to whiz
harmlessly past beneath them. It passed so closely that
they could hear the rush of its slip-stream through the
walls of the ship. Then it too went drunkenly reeling,
shooting sky\vard and circling and diving, completely
out of control. Again the wave generators had proved
their worth. The huge cylinder went down in the midst
of the tall ebon buildings, tearing away walls and roof
structures and carrying hundreds of Prags to their
deaths in the falling debris. Another of the Prag fliers
met a similar fate in an attempted attack on another of
the spheres of the outlanders. There were cheers from
Grayson’s companions and one and all they itched to
be outside and in the confusion that reigned in the streets
of the city.

Still the great spheres circled the city, spreading
destruction beneath them. Two more of the Prag fliers

BUCCANEERS

rose to the attack and one of the spheres went down at
the successful rush of the first of the pointed vessels.
But the cylinder was carried to its doom along with the
victim for the swift rush had carried the pointed end
through and through the sphere where it stuck, the
sphere impaled like an apple on a spike. The second
cylinder was dodged by its intended prey and soon went
down to join its fellows. There remained but one of the
ships in the square and the watchers could see that its
crew was deserting and making for the buildings on the
edge of the square. Grayson’s sphere hovered a moment
over the square, then settled gracefully to a landing.
The order came to don gas masks and the hatches were
opened.

Out into the open filed the Elsian infantry, trinors
in hand and looking fearfully inhuman with their eyes
hidden behind the huge goggles of their masks. Dead
and dying Prags lay in heaps about the square and they
had to climb over piles of them in places in order to
make their way to the streets. A cloud of the white
gas descended on them and they fought their way blindly
in the direction of the tall building for which they had
started. Grayson stumbled over a body and fell heavily.
When he arose, he found that he was alone but he
staggered his way through the murk until he reached
a wall. He felt along this and fell through an opening
which proved to be the entrance of a building. Pushing
open the door, he rushed into the corridor, and here
there was none of the gas, and the lights were burning
brightly. He removed his mask and looked around.

N either Prag nor outlander was in sight and he
immediately recognized this as the building that
housed the Great Ones. He heard a commotion nearby
and walked down the corridor to investigate. In a
narrow hall that branched from the corridor he found
three of the Elsian prisoners struggling with one of the
lower class Prags. As he reached them, there came the
crackling blue flare of the ray pistol and. one of the
Elsians suddenly melted into horrid nothingness. With
a cry of rage he drew his own ray pistol, forgetting
the trinor, and the Prag turned wide eyes in his direction
as the blue flame struck him full in the chest. The two
remaining Elsian prisoners were saved and they spurned
the shrinking mass of putrefaction that had been their
enemy as they rushed to thank their rescuer.

With the assistance of these two slaves he located the
lift and the three ascended to the uppermost floor. They
emerged under the transparent roof and Grayson grimly
set forth to beard the Great Ones in their den, the two
Elsians protesting in fear. He paid no heed to their
earnest warnings but proceeded steadily along the aisle
between the rank growths that had disgusted him so
when they first reached the place. When he had reached
a point about fifty feet from the dais where he was still
hidden from the cushions of the Great Ones by foliage,
there came the mental command to stop. But instead of
retreating at this evidence that the fearsome rulers of
the Prags were in their accustomed places, he pressed
the catch of his trinor and waited until the whine of its
mechanism had risen to the vanishing point. The Elsian
slaves retreated precipitately, but Grayson advanced
slowly and cautiously in the direction of the dais.

Slowly he felt the paralyzing force creeping over him
but he pressed doggedly forward, using every ounce of
strength in his body to drag his benumbed limbs into
movement. Then he fell heavily to the floor and had

694

AMAZmG STORIES

to pull himself along by grasping the vines and tree
trunks along the path with his stiffening fingers. He
was in view of the dais now and he saw that two of the
Great Ones had fallen victims to the air vibrations, their
colossal, hairless heads having dropped to the cushions
on which they rested. But the third, though weakening,
was still alive and it was this one that was exerting his
will power on the hapless earth man. With a final
desperate effort Grayson twisted that rigid member that
was his right arm until he was able to reach the ray
pistol in his belt. But he could not aim it in the direction
of the remaining Great One. He struggled and fought,
but that arm would not move. Then he concentrated
with closed eyes. He spoke aloud.

“Grayson R36B,” he growled through clamped jaws,
“you’re not going to let this devil of a Prag get the best
of you — ^you’re not. You must lift that arm and blast
him from existence — ^you must — ^you must!’’

Then, miraculously, he found he could move his
fingers — a bit at a time he edged his right arm forward,
talking and grunting and berating himself aloud. Then
the ray pistol was levelled at the monstrosity that glared
at him from among the cushions. Came the blue flare
and he was released. His own will power had saved
him and he sprang to his feet with a cry of victory. The
Elsian slaves came running and they capered in glee at
the sight that greeted them from the dais. The power
of the Great Ones was no more 1

When eventually they reached the square, all of the
spherical vessels were landed and the fighting had spread
to the side streets. There was not a living Prag in sight
and Grayson made his way to his own vessel to report
to Erne. He found him at the radiophone and greeted
him with a broad smile.

“What have you to report, Grayson,” the captain
asked.

“I have killed the Great Ones,” he replied simply.

“What? Killed — the — Great — Ones?” was the in-
credulous reply. “Alone.”

“Alone.”

“For that deed you will receive the highest honors and
decorations that can be conferred by the Governor-
general of Els. You will be famous.”

But the earth man cared not. He was tired and he
wanted to go back to Els — to Lola.

The Administration Building Gone

F or three days they remained on the planet Pra,
exploring every nook and cranny that might hold
a skulking Prag. Communications from Trasa
told of the victory over the Prag vessel that was quart-
ered there. The golden sphere told them that the vessel
at the shore of Lake Ho had not bear molested, as the
Elsians desired to learn more concerning the experiments
that were being conducted.

When Erne told him of this, Grayson groaned. “Cap-
tain,” he said, “I can tell them all they wish to know
of those experiments. And niy friend Minott can tell
them more. Tell them to destroy the Prags at once
by means of the air vibrations. I fear for Minott’s
safety and I fear for my own world.”

“But it is impossible for me to give orders to my
superiors,” Erne objected.

“Then send one of our ships back.. Send me with if
and I’ll lay the case before the authorities. I tell you
Captain, there is much at stake — much.”

Grayson was pleading now. He knew that it would

be necessary for the greater part of the force to remain
in Capis for several more days to make sure the job had
been well done. But he pleaded for Minott, for his
own peoples. And eventually Erne took it up with the
commander of the expedition. After much explaining
on Grayson’s part, it was finally arranged that one of
the spheres was to return him to Arun, and that he was
to be allowed to tell his story to the Governor there.
He expressed his gratitude in no uncertain terms and
hastened to board the vessel that was assigned to carry
him back.

During the short voyage he worried constantly. It
seemed that the spherical flier was desperately slow,
though in reality it made the trip in record time — ^less
than three ul being required.

When they approached the city of Arun, Grayson
was in the control room, talking with the pilot. Suddenly
he gasped in alarm. The great pointed cylinder that
was the Prag’s vessel lay crushed in the ruins of what
had once been the Administration Building! A vicious
curl of white told of the Prag gas cloud that was not
yet fully cleared from the streets!

“We are too late!” he moaned, “The three hundred
maidens were quartered, in that building!”

The pilot looked at him commiseratingly. “You had
a sweetheart among them?”

“Yes,” Grayson replied. He choked and paled and
the pilot maneuvered the ship to as quick a landing as
possible.

No sooner were they on solid ground when the earth-
man donned his gas mask and demanded that he be
allowed to leave the vessel. Upon the pilot’s explaining
of matters to the captain this was allowed and Grayson
rushed into the ruins of the building, crawling under the
great metal hull of the Prag vessel to get into the debris.
He thought he could locate the chambers where Lola
and her father had been quartered and he risked his
life in worming his 'way through caved-in corridors
and broken-walled rooms until he reached this point.
He found the body of Atar and mourned over it, as if
the Elsian had been a life-long friend instead of a recent
acquaintance. But, try as he would he could find no
trace of Lola. He found many other bodies, a few of
them of the young girls who were thought so safely
housed, but there was no evidence of either the death or
the saving of the girl he had loved so quickly and deeply.
He crawled from the debris and rushed frantically to
the ship which had brought him.

The last vestige of the gas was now cleared away and
he found a crowd collected about the entrance of the
mammoth sphere. Among them was the Governor, and
Grayson elbowed his way to his side. The pilot of the
vessel was there and he acted as the earth man’s inter-
preter.

“Were many of the three hundred saved?” he first
asked.

Patiently he waited for the translations. This Governor
was not as adept at picking up his language, as had
been some of the others.

“Yes. More than two hundred were rescued.”

The Governor had a list and he looked through it
carefully for the name of Lola. It was not there!

The raid had come unexpectedly, it seemed. Out of
a clear sky the enemy had appeared and had laid down
gas clouds in several sections of the city. A portable
wave generator was finally brought into action and the
ship was sent down out of control — unfortunately

MICROCOSMIC BUCCANEERS

695

directly atop the Administration Building. There were
thousands of casualties throughout Arun. But the High
Command had not suspected that such a thing would
transpire.

“Damn the High Command!” said Grayson. “They
were wrong, and I have lost Lola — probably Minott too.”

He remained in the city, sick at heart. For three
days the wrecking crews searched the demolished build-
ing, bringing many bodies for identification. But Lola
was not among them. When the casualty lists were
complete and neither she nor Minott were accounted for,
Grayson had an inspiration. Maybe Minott had been
left behind 1 Maybe he was still at Lake Ilo 1 He would
go and find out.

ATTEMPTS to communicate with the village were
-tVfutile, so the Governor provided a ronsal to carry
the earth man to the village. Before he left, there came
the general broadcast advising that the remaining three
Elsian spheres had left Pra and were on their way home.
The celebration over the complete victory was starting
as his ronsal left the city limits, but there was no
jubilation in Grayson’s heart. He was bitter; broken-
hearted.

When the ronsal reached the site of the village they
found it in complete ruin. The Prags had destroyed it
before they left for Arun! But, looking out toward
the lake, it was seen that the huts that covered the
experimental mechanisms were still standing. Grayson
made all haste to reach them and he searched first one
and then the others of the rude shelters.

“Grayson!” came a familiar and beloved voice,

Minott stood before him and the younger man fell
to his knees and thanked God that the Prags had left
him behind. Minott raised him gently to his feet and
led him to the largest of the shelters, thrusting him
through the door without a word. There in a chair that
they had built when they first came, sat Lola!

The young man stopped in his tracks and gazed at
her with unbelieving eyes. Then they embraced.

Minott gave them plenty of time; then he stepped
through the open door and coughed gently. His face
beamed and explanations came fast and furiously.

Half crazed at the death of her father, Lola had made
her way to the village only to find it in ruins. She
collapsed, but by good fortune Minott found her and
nursed her back to health. It was a, happy reunion and
the three embraced in a huddle from sheer joy.

There came a tremendous wrench, a twisting and
warping of the universe, and they stood in Minott’s
laboratory — three where there had been but two before.
Lola still clung to her lover but Minott sprang to the
super-microscope and shut off the power.

“What on earth?” gasped Grayson.

Minott glanced at the clock and laughed. “My boy,”
he said “our two minutes have expired. Our own
apparatus brought us back, thanks to the time switch.”

“You mean to say that all of that grief took place
during two minutes of our time ?”

“Absolutely. The time-space relationship you see.
Those long days in the atom universe were but fractions
of a second here. The Elsians and the Prags and all
of them lived out their lifetimes in less than one of our
days. I had forgotten that point while we were there.
Which reminds me that I must investigate fully ^-he
qualities of our focussing ray. It must have the property
of altering the time-space relationship optically, for
when we observed the Elsians through the super-micro-
scope their terrific pace of living was not apparent.”

“But Lola,” objected Grayson, “will she live a normal
span of years here?” He drew her still more closely
in awful fear.

“Of course. The time-space relationship has been
altered with her as well as it was with us. You may
live happily ever after, my children.”

Minott’s face was wreathed in smiles and Lola, com-
prehending that she was in a new and strange land, but
not understanding how, was glad. She had found her
happiness, and, but for the ache that remained in her
heart for her father, was content.

The End

Out OCTOBER 20th

Amazing Stories Quarterly

Fall Edition

THE BRIDGE OF LIGHT

By A. Hyatt Verrill

A full-length novel based on the legends and folklore of the ancient Mayan
tribes. One of the author’s best.

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON

By Edmond Hamilton

A complete interplanetary novelette surprising in its originality. A scientific-
tion classic well worth keeping.

By Dr. Daniel
Dressier

Author of
“The White Army”

The B

ram

/~\NLY a few years ago, the study of glands seemed to be,
taking the turn of a fad. Everybody was talking about
the pituitary glands, and the thyroid — and even the en-
docrine glands — as though it were a simple matter to
know all about them. T he truth is that the ductless
glands do have astounding effects on the bodily
organization. Abnormal gland secretions
can have the most harmful effects. i.If

T he case of Colonel
Grigsby excited
some comment in
the newspapers at
the time of his de-
mise. Notices appeared not
only in American dailies, but
also in some of the European ones, while the London
Dispatch carried half a column on his life and activities,
especially those of his earlier days. The Manchester
News, being the organ of his birthplace, did rather better,
mentioning not only his army life but his later years
spent in scientific research and ending with a brief (and
quite inaccurate) list of his discoveries and patents. The
Scientific Reporter of Buffalo, New York, did point out
that his discoveries in the refinement of alumihum and
certain processes in the development of alloy steels were
at the bottom of much of the present day success in han-

696

ccelerator

some means could be found to speed up these secretions
beneficially, marvelous results might be obtained. Dr.
Dressier, being a physician, who also possesses
imagination, enlarges on the subject of gland
treatment in a highly scientific and plausible
manner. “The Brain Accelerator* should
make many new followers for this_ author.

Illustrated by

WESSO

clling these metals, and that science as well as industry,
had lost a valuable servant in his abrupt retirement.

Of the man himself, other than that he was graduated
from Cambridge and entered the army, serving through
the Boer Rebellion and resigning with the rank of colonel,
and that he later came to America and spent considerable
time in Pittsburgh in one of the steel mills, only to drop
out of sight for a time and then to reappear and settle
quietly in a small village in Ohio, little seems to have
been known. Certainly the ten years preceding the time
I met him left the town of Bolton quite in the dark as

There was no doubt
about it. As the ray
struck him, the dog
showed definite signs
of returning animation

697

698

AMAZING STORIES

to the colonel’s character or even as to his habits. Save
for a servant, he lived alone in a huge old house at
one edge of town. This servant made most of his
contacts with the world, as the colonel kept no car and
seldom went abroad, except for an occasional stroll at
night through the fields thereabouts.

Perhaps Murphy, his man, might have told something
about him, certainly he bore for Murphy an affection that
was not conceived in a day, while Murphy in return ren-
dered service that betokened more than habit or the
desire to cling to an assured position. But I do not
know; Murphy is dead. Whatever he knew of the
things that made a prosperous chemist drop out of sight
of the world and live as a recluse for the remainder of
his life, has died with him. I feel that even were he
alive, there was sufficient of an impelling force behind
the colonel’s actions and enough of a tie between them
to insure his silence.

What I have to say bears on Colonel Grigsby’s former
life and his character other than as I saw him, only
secondarily. Yet a full knowledge of that life might tell
me whether or not I saw a phenomenon unparalleled in
the history of science or whether I beheld only the
vagaries of a paretic playing with scientific toys, the
ravings of a decaying mind which took its strange bent
from the years it had spent in chemical and mechanical
pursuits. If I, as a physician, cannot decide on the data
at hand, it is doubtful if any one can. Yet I frankly
cannot say that I am sure of what I saw, whether the
colonel’s experiments were far ahead of anything known
even now or whether the colonel himself was possessed
of the almost diabolical cunning that appears sometimes
in a disordered mind and which led him to impose upon
me an enormous hoax.

I can only relate what I know and hope that perhaps
some one will bring forth enough information on his early
life to let me decide. If his were a cracked mind, as his
actions in leaving the world and burying himself in
Bolton to go on with his experiments, as well as the
nature of the experiments themselves, might indicate,
surely some indications of it must have appeared before.
Why all record of his work at Pittsburgh has been
buried in the oblivion of nameless files is another phase
of the mystery. One thing only I know, my own attempt
at investigation has failed. Perhaps some one who reads
this, despite the changes in names and places, may recog-
nize the story and come forward with additional facts.

M y acquaintance with Colonel Grigsby (I can hardly
call it friendship, although I was the nearest thing
to a friend that he had in Bolton) dated from a visit
to his house early in January of the year he died. I had
been in practice in Bolton about three months, and had
heard references to the “Old Hermit” and his exclusive-
ness, and had seen the house, always heavily shuttered
and surrounded by a high and solid, if somewhat dilapi-
dated, wall. Therefore it was a surprise when I received
a call one night in a gruff voice to “come in a hurry and
bring bandage and sewing stuff along.” The call was
from Colonel Grigsby’s house on the hill south of town.
I hurriedly packed my bag with emergency supplies and
drove to the gate in the wall around the house. There
I was met by the servant, whom I later learned to call
Murphy, and was conducted through a path winding
between clumps of rose bushes to a side door, that led
directly into the colonel’s library,

I remember that it was a quiet moonlight night, very

mild for January, and with just a light coat of snow
over the fields, on the wall, and on the uncared for
bushes on the lawn. The house stood at the top of the
hill; beyond the gate the road stretched in a gleaming
cord to terminate in the shadows around the clump of
lights marking the village. Above me as I stood at
the door, while Murphy fumbled with a stubborn latch,
was a dark height of wall, a full three stories and a
dormer gable. On every side was moonlight, making the
house seem more foreboding, as no answering gleam came
from the darkly shrouded pile. There was nothing to
relieve its black expanse and I recall noting these sur-
roundings and idly wondering if perhaps the villagers’
hints of something “fey” in the resident of the hill might
not have started from someone’s view of the house and
garden in the moonlight. There was indeed something
eerie in the scene.

Within the library the illusion was lost. Here was a
conventional large room lined with well filled book-cases
and furnished sparely yet tastefully with solid old-fash-
ioned furniture. It was brilliantly lighted by a row of
electric bulbs running completely around the cornice.
The lack of light without was explained by heavy velvet
curtains drawn to completely cover a number of long
French windows.

Murphy indicated my patient with a nod and then
disappeared through a door opposite to the one through
which we had entered. On the other side of the room
the figure of a man was lying quietly on a day-bed. He
was dressed in an old shirt and trousers and# carpet
slippers and wore over all a long and heavy laboratory
apron. On the floor, as though thrown away in haste,
was a pair of heavy goggles with shining thick lenses and
borders of grey rubber. His left arm lay on a chair by
the side of the couch and was covered with blood-stained
bandages.

As I approached he opened his eyes and greeted me
in a weak voice.

“I’ve cut my arm, doctor, and I think the cubital vein
is severed, Murphy applied a tourniquet and some band-
ages but it is still seeping slowly and I’ve lost consider-
able blood. Murphy will be here in a moment with hot
water ; you may examine it and do what is necessary.”

At that moment Murphy entered with a large basin
of water that still boiled and I removed the dressings
and gently sponged away the blood so that I could see
the wound.

The cubital vein was cut ; a deep gash extending across
the forearm had severed skin, fascia, and muscle, down
to the tendons. Blood still seeped slowly from the sev-
ered vessels ; only the prompt application of a tourniquet
had saved him from a death by hemorrhage. As it was,
he had lost enough blood to make him pale. His pulse
was strong and not too rapid, and I decided to apply
ligatures and sutures rather than to risk moving him.

I inquired if he thought he could stand the pain of
sewing and he smiled weakly and told me to go ahead.
I did, however, administer an opiate both to lessen the
pain and to minimize the danger of renewed hemorrhage.
It took a number of stitches to catch the bleeding vessels
and then eight or ten more to approximate the cut muscles
and skin, but he stood it all without a murmur. By the
time it was bandaged he was nearly asleep. I left a few
simple instructions with Murphy, who all this time had
stood by my side, evidently anxious to help, yet not ven-
turing to do so without my bidding. Telling him I would
return in the morning, I took my leave.

THE BRAIN ACCELERATOR

699

W HEN I returned next day I found the Colonel at
his desk, pale and evidently weak, but cheerful
and busy with some sort of drawing. When I entered,
he dropped his work and greeted me pleasantly and I
had an opportunity to observe him more fully than I
could the evening before.

He was tall, spare rather than stout, and even seated,
he carried his shoulders back and his spine erect in the
manner of one who has spent time in the army. His
face partook of the leanness of his body; there was a
firm chin and full, tight lips ; a straight, large nose and
grey eyes and a high forehead and the whole was topped
by a shock of curly white hair. He wore a conventional
business suit with the bandaged arm buttoned into the
coat, and presented a picture of some elderly college
professor at work in his study, rather than the eccentric
recluse that the village gossip had painted.

Seen in daylight there was nothing unusual about the
library. The velvet curtains had been drawn back and
the room was flooded with sunshine. There were a
number of books lying on the desk, a few drawing in-
struments, a slide-rule, and sheets of drafting paper.
In cases lining the walls were hundreds of other books
and I saw through a half opened door a large room, that
appeared to be fitted as a laboratory or workshop.

I mentally catalogued the Colonel as some sort of
scientist ; a chemist, perhaps, or from the drawings pos-
sibly an engineer. Certainly there was nothing about the
place or the man to suggest anything more than an in-
dividual with a hobby who desired privacy to work out
his ideas at leisure.

While I dressed the wound, the Colonel talked pleas-
antly, inquired about my school and hospital experience,
how long I had been in Bolton, and whether or not I
expected to remain in country practice, since so many
young physicians seemed to prefer the city. I told him
that I had located there partly because it was a good
opening; the nearest physician being in the next town
ten miles away ; and partly because in this place was the
State Institution for the Feeble Minded, and that an
appointment on the staff permitted me excellent clinical
facilities for research in psychiatry, which I hoped to
make my specialty. The Colonel’s interest seemed caught
at this and he asked a number of questions that betrayed
more than a cursory insight into physiology in general
and particularly in the little understood physiology of the
mind. He soon dropped the subject and did not reopen
it, although it seemed to me at the time that he appeared
to take more than a layman’s interest in the matter.

The wound developed an infection in a few days and
required frequent irrigations to clean it up. I visited
the house on the hill daily for nearly three weeks, and
in that time came to feel quite at home with the Colonel.
He was always friendly and always interesting. He
told tales of the war in which I learned that he had served
with the field units of the British forces; he told of his
college days at Cambridge, and he admitted that he had
studied medicine for three years, before he entered the
army. He spoke of research in the laboratories at Pitts-
• burgh and mentioned that he had several patents on basic
processes in the manufacture of metals. Sometimes he
talked of my own work, quizzing me on brain and nerve
anatomy, and taking frank delight in catching me in an
occasional error. Where he gained the fund of informa-
tion that he had on the subject, he never said ; I am sure,
though, that he must have done a great deal of work
upon it at some time, because his knowledge frequently

surpassed my own, and I had spent every spare moment
in college upon that phase of anatomy and physiology.

I began to enjoy these visits; a physician in a small
town has little opportunity to talk shop, and the Colonel’s
knowledge, while always from the viewpoint of the
student and not the physician, was remarkable. We
argued and speculated and discussed the reports in the
current medical journals, and long after the wound had
ceased to require my services I dropped in once or twice
a week in the evening. I had free time, my practice
usually was taken care of during the day and I went to
the Sanitarium only on Saturdays, so that I learned to
look forward with pleasure to our evenings together.

How the Colonel filled his days he did not explain.
His laboratory was closed when I came at night ; Murphy
would quietly set out cigars and a bottle of port of which
the Colonel seemed fond, and as quietly retire. We
talked sometimes until midnight without ever touching
upon personal activities. What experiments he was con-
ducting or whether he was writing, I did not inquire.
We were both apparently content to enjoy each other’s
company without too much of the usual intimacy of
friendship.

O NE night, perhaps two months after the Colonel’s
wound had healed, and after our habit of discussion
had become quite well established, I entered his library
to find him seated by his desk apparently in a brown
study. He nodded absently to me as Murphy took my
coat and hat, and he motioned me toward a chair and
thereafter said nothing until I was seated and enjoying
my cigar, which I had lighted. Then he pushed back his
chair and asked me abruptly :

“What is the nature of nerve impulse, Doctor ?”
Caught off guard by his sudden plunge into matters
scientific, since we usually drifted leisurely into that
pha.se of our talks, and moreover fearful of a trick in his
question, I temporized :

“Why, of course, no one knows. There are several
theories, one that it is a chemical process, another that
it is purely electrical in nature and another that it is a
vital phenomenon for which nerve tissue has the inherent
capability. I believe that the electrical theory has the
support of most physiologists now, although it is still
an unsettled matter.”

“You are right,” he said, “except for the last state-
ment. Mathews, along with Koch and Alexander, be-
lieved that the nerve impulse extended along the fibre
by some chemical process similar to the sudden break-
down of a peroxide or organic oxide, but they were
never able to prove the release of heat, which would
have been inevitable had they been right. Tashiro
thought, when he demonstrated motility in the dendritic
processes of growing nerve tissue, that he had the answer
in a mechano-vital affair, but he was wrong. It has
been proved that it is electrical and I have proved it.”

With this simple yet startling statement did the Colo-
nel introduce me to the trend of his researches. I started
to question, but he broke in impatiently.

“I know you are going to ask for proof, but let that
wait. My discovery is after all incidental to something
else and the proof is negative. I know that the nature of
nerve impulse is electrical because nothing else could ex-
plain the phenomena I have evoked. Let me ask you
something more along the same line.

“How does a nerve trunk react to a Faradic current ? It
functions in its normal manner, nearly, does it not? If

700

AMAZING STORIES

stimulated at the central end of a motor nerve it trans-
mits the current and fulfills its function just as if a
motor impulse instead of an external electrical stimulus
were sent along it. It tires after a time and refuses to
react further until it is rested, which a nerve normally
does. If the peripheral end of a sensory nerve is stimu-
lated, it behaves as a sensory nerve should and carries an
impulse to the brain. But do you know,” he leaned for-
ward in his earnestness, which was now very evidently
real, and tapped me upon the knee, “that a ‘touch’ im-
pulse as opposed to a ‘pain’ sensation has never been
evoked by either Faradization or by galvanic current
applied to a sensory end-plate ?”

I started to reply that as far as I knew, the last ex-
periment had never been successful but the Colonel
interrupted me again.

“Let me finish my premises. There are a number
more of them and you will need them all to follow me
in my reasoning. Then we can discuss my deductions
and after that,” he smiled, “we will look over my proofs.
“I have run over briefly some arguments on the theory
of the nerve impulse being an electrical phenomenon and
I meant to suggest in my last question that it might not
be purely so, but more of that later. Now, I want to
advance another point that bears on what I have demon-
strated, or,” smiling again, “pJiink I have.

“Just how much of the human brain. Doctor, can be
eliminated without the death or evident impairment of
mental quality of the individual? You have, of course,
seen de-cerebrated pigeons, birds with the cerebrum re-
moved and the cerebellum intact, who were yet able
to fly when tossed into the air, breathe and swallow food
when it was placed in the mouth ; in short, who were
able to exhibit all the reflex manifestations of life, yet did
you ever wonder how much of a vuin’s brain could be
removed without causing his death?

“Well I have seen (and you probably have also) two
ounces of pus removed from a brain cavity that could
not possibly hold more than thirty-two ounces, and not
only was the pus removed, but the patient lived, despite
the fact that two ounces of his brain substance was gone.
And I have never heard of a case recovered from abscess
around the mastoid which suffered any amount of mental
impairment. Brain tumors involving half a hemisphere
have been successfully removed with no bad results, un-
less the area around the Rolandic Fissure was involved.
You may or may not recall the case, during the Franco-
German war, where a soldier discharged, not a bullet, but
the ramrod from his gun, squarely through the skull and
the right anterior lobe of his brain, yet he recovered and
suffered no inconvenience.

“The cerebral cortex has never been more than very
imperfectly mapped. The tracts of medulated and un-
medulated fibres have been better understood ; we know
that the corpus callosum connects the hemispheres and
that the internal capsule has to do with the collection of
fibres that run toward the spinal cord. We know in
general the path that impulses follow from the cortex to
the cord and from there to the rest of the body, but of
the points where most of these impulses originate, we
know practically nothing.

“But we do know where many of the commoner mani-
festations, such as voluntary muscular action impulses,
come from, because hemorrhages and injuries to certain
limited areas, such as the Rolandic Fissure and the in-
ternal capsule, cause definite paralyses. And we also
know, as I have endeavored to recall to you, that there

is a vast area in the brain where none of the impulses
that we manifest in daily life — motor, sensory, and the
third great field, the psychic or the mind, if you will — do
not originate, since so much of the brain can be destroyed
without interference with any of these functions.

“Now it is axiomatic that nature does not create or
rather retain, any structure unless a need for it or a
capability for its function maintains. When sea life
came to land, it lost its fins or made legs of them. Man
no longer needs a tail as his cousin the ape does, so he
has lost it, save of course, for atavisms such as the cele-
brated case of the boy in Hawaii, who is normal except
for a well developed tail. We have some nineteen, or is
it thirty-nine, vestigial organs, useless hang-overs from
earlier forms, in our bodies, yet we will doubtless lose
them in time as we have lost our tails.

“The mammals, with man at their head, are the highest
type of life the world has known. Physically, man is
almost the weakest of the lot, yet he leads because of the
development of his nervous system, and at the top, fig-
uratively as well as literally, is the brain. It is not
conceivable that nature lias endowed man with some
four or five times the amount of brain tissue that he
uses, unless for a purpose. I believe it is there for a
purpose. Man has simply never put it to work. It was
with this conviction that I followed what I will admit
was an accidental discovery of the nature of nerve im-
pulse travel and which has since become incidental, in
that it has led to a demonstration of what I last said.”

T he Colonel had been pacing restlessly up and down
the library for the most of this discourse. As he
finished, he sat down again and poured a glass of wine,
sipping it slowly while I pondered on his words.

Unquestionably he had stated facts in his premises.
Most of them were well known to me, but his deductions
were so original and daring that I hesitated at their sig-
nificance and possibly displayed a perplexity far beyond
what a physician should when confronted with ideas in
his own field. The Colonel must have noted it, for with-
out giving me a chance to speak, he resumed.

“Another thing. \\’hat is memory? Is it a chemical
process, a change in chemical structure of brain tissue
as the presence of substances like linoleic acid, which in
the homely substance linseed oil displays characteristics
closely akin to memory, in that it starts to acquire oxygen
and so ‘dry’ under the action of ultra-violet light, only
to lose that tendency in the dark and re-exhibit it more
quickly when exposed the second and third times, thus
showing that it remembered how to dry? Shall we say
that memory is a mechano-vital function involving only
the relaying of impulses by the synapses between brain
cells and that these synapses once made are more easily
remade upon a second application of the primary or ex-
citing impulse ? Or, is it a purely electrical affair, with
our brain-tracts as wires and brain-cells as individual
telephones and the ganglia the switchboard? Shall we
consider our consciousness, our psychic, as the ‘pale
lightning that flickers over our brain in tune with our
thoughts ?’

“That, my friend, I do not know. I have conducted
a few experiments that might show something. I would
like your opinion on them and your help in evaluating
them and perhaps pursuing them to an end.”

The Colonel led the way into his laboratory. I fol-
lowed, my mind in a whirl between the supposition of
something totally new in physiological research, and

THE BRAIN ACCELERATOR

wonderment that he should have chosen me as a con-
fidant. There was also a trace of suspicion that I might
have been listening to the ravings of a brain gone wild,
but there was also a lively amount of curiosity about
his laboratory and the significance of it and of himself
in this little village.

I realized by this time that the Colonel was not only
exceptionally well informed in a branch of physiology
that is little understood, but that he had the ability and
the means to follow his ideas to the end in the acid test
of experiment. Such investigations I well knew were
usually conducted in institutions, under the direction of
one man perhaps, but with the help of a corps of trained
workers. It is seldom that any one individual has the
means of equipping a physiological research laboratory,
coupled with the ability to work there, while ft is more
remarkable still that such a man should seclude himself
as the Colonel had done.

The laboratory opened directly off from the library and
from its extent must have covered nearly the rest of the
first floor of the house. It embraced a huge rectangular
room with an ell leading off from one end. Walls, ceil-
ing and floor were tiled, green at the top and with the
lower three feet of the walls and the floor white. There
were no windows; in recesses in the walls were con-
cealed lamps, that gave a flood of glareless, shadowless
illumination so white as to closely resemble sunlight. At
one side was a long bench cluttered with chemical ap-
paratus, test tubes, retorts, and burners. At one end of
it stood a miniature electric furnace and I recalled the
Colonel’s words about metallurgical research. The wall
nearest the door had a table running its whole length and
on this was a bewildering array of wires and vacuum
bulbs and huge X-ray tubes. In the ell, of which I could
see one end, seemed to be two or three dynamos and
motors and what I at once recognized as the high fre-
quency generator of an X-ray machine, although it was
larger than any I had ever seen. Attached by long in-
sulators to the ceiling was a row of heavy copper bars
that extended to the bench with the vacuum tubes. A
door opened from the ell and through it came a racket
that reminded me of the pandemonium always heard in
a biological building, where cages of laboratory dogs are
kept.

The Colonel led the way to a screened off portion of
the bench with the electrical apparatus and drew up two
high stools and motioned me to one of them, donning
before he sat down on the other, his long laboratory
apron. He indicated the rest of the room with a sweep
of his hand and asked with some pride :

“How do you like my little workshop? I designed
and equipped it myself and you can see that it is fitted
for chemistry and high frequency electricity as well as
for biology. I really expected to devote my time to
chemistry, but I became interested in high frequency
waves when Murphy insisted on installing a radio, and
that led to all the machinery you see down there and my
experiments with it to the biological end I spoke of.

“It was quite by accident that I stumbled upon the mat-
ter of nerve impulse conduction, but my results along
the electrical theory have been so startling and have led
me into such strange things that I need the help of your
training to carry them through. Let me beg your in-
dulgence for a few minutes more,” as I started to speak,
“and I’ll summarize a bit and then outline my plans for
further work.

“I told you tha^ I conceived the nerve impulse, and

701j

probably the psychic or ultra-material phenomenon that
we call mind, to be electrical in their nature. Well, they
are, although they are related to the high frequency radio
waves, much as those electrical manifestations are related
to the simple galvanic current. But like both the radio
waves and the galvanic current, they are perfectly capable
of being produced by machines and controlled. I recalled
to you that there are large areas of brain tissue that
apparently serve no known function, but that must be
capable of function, else they would not be retained. I
now tell you that I am able to induce external electrical
forces that simulate nerve impulses and can be super-
imposed upon actual nerves and not only traverse them
but also stimulate their own function to a point normally
impossible. With this increased functioning comes not
only increased travel along peripheral nerves, but an
acceleration of brain function and the creation of new
synapses or contacts between brain cells with its corollary
of a broadening of the organism’s reactions to external
impressions, an increase manifold of the brain’s capacity
to think. I am able also to induce in animals apparently
dead at least a similitude of nerve function and con-
sequently an apparent return to life.”

W HEN he finished, the Colonel leaned back upon
his stool with a quiet smile and waited for me to
speak. I pondered for a moment before the full import
of his words came to me. “Acceleration of brain function
and the creation of new synapses, the increase conse-
quently of the mind’s capabilities to a degree measured
only by the amount of brain tissue at present without
demonstrable function — the revivification of innervation
in the dead and consequently the return of life’s most
vital requisite” — the proposition held untold possibilities,
the creation of a super-mind, education of the human
reduced to a simple affair, the return to life of the dead
who were without too much damage to their bodies.

The Colonel watched me for a moment and as I still
pondered without speaking, drew back the screen beliind
him and indicated the bench.

There was a glass compartment or cabinet about four
feet square and as many high, upon the bench and within
it apparently asleep, lay a dog. Suspended from the top
of the cabinet was what appeared to be a large X-ray
tube with a metal window and another smaller tube
clamped fast to its side. Both tubes were in operation,
their electrodes gleaming red even in the bright light of
the laboratory. The smaller tube was so adjusted as to
present its anode directly toward the metal window and
through this window came a carefully screened ray of
greenish light that played in a thin pencil upon the back
of the dog’s head.

The Colonel threw a switch and the greenish ray from
the tubes stopped. Their electrodes still glowed, but in
a moment they too, started to cool. The dog gave a
slight shudder, then stiffened and the respiratory move-
ment which had been perfectly evident before, ceased.
The Colonel threw open one side of the cabinet and drew
out the dog and the glass plate upon which it rested.
“You see he is quite dead,” he remarked.

I felt for respiratory movement of the chest and then
for heart beat and finally examined the pupils of the eyes
and I was forced to agree. The dog was dead, the three
phenomena that determine life — respiration, circulation,
and innervation — were all absent.

The Colonel said quite simply. “He was dead for
several hours three weeks ago, yet you saw him just now

702

AMAZING STORIES

breathing naturally, and had you examined heart and
pupils you would have found them functioning.”

He turned the side of the case up still more and swung
the tubes out toward us.

“This,” indicating the larger, “is not unlike a Coolidge
tube, except that the electrodes have both gold and tho-
rium as well as platinum
in them, while the screen
in the window is a special
alloy of aluminum, which
passes some rays that the
platinum-iridium screen
does not. The smaller is
an ordinary X-ray tube,
except that it is of quartz
and has as well as the
heater and high frequency
currents an extremely
short wavelength radio
carrier wave impressed
upon its elements. What
the nature of the resultant
ray is I’m not prepared to
state. I only know some
of its effects.”

He turned to another
glass case holding a dog,
obviously dead, although
he insisted that I examine
it. The animal was quite
rigid; the heart was silent
and the eyes were fixed
and dull ; it seemed to me
to have been dead some
time, despite the fact that
there were no signs of de-
composition. The Colonel
lifted the tubes to connec-
tions in the top of this
case, similar to the ones in
the first. He threw an-
other switch and the tubes
lighted. Carefully adjust-
ing a diaphragm arrange-
ment similar to the sub-
stage condenser of a microscope, he brought the green-
ish ray to a small focus and training it upon the back
of the head of the dead dog, broadened it until it cov-
ered the whole skull.

“It seems to require considerable stimulation at the
first raying,” he explained. “There,” he narrowed the
beam again to a point about the size of a dime and just
above the junction of the neck and the head.

N othing happened for a moment, but as I watched,
the rigid limbs began to relax and the tail moved
slightly ; the Colonel reached in quickly and gave a slight
thrust upon the thorax, and to my amazement, respira-
tion began. Labored at first and somewhat jerky, it soon
settled to a regular rhythm and upon the floor of the cage
lay, instead of the dead dog that had been there, one that
seemed only asleep. The Colonel invited me to feel the
chest and I found the heart pumping steadily. Upon
turning back the eyelids, I saw that the dull film was
gone and as a ray of light reflected from the glass upon
them, the pupils contracted to their normal size. Un-
questionably, unless I were the victim of an illusion, the

dog was alive, asleep truly, but none the less alive.

The Colonel shut the door of the case and snapped
another switch. “The temperature in here is kept at 98
degrees but the internal temperature of the body falls
slightly below that when metabolism ceases, and it takes
some little time for it to return. Also, it will take a few

minutes before the dog
will be ready for the rest
of the experiment.”

The Colonel led the way
back to the library, where
we again sat down. A
hundred questions were
forming in my mind and
struggling there with the
reluctant conviction that I
had really witnessed what
was almost a miracle.
Noting his expression,
however, that the Colonel
had something further to
say, I awaited him. He
methodically selected a
cigar, lighted it, and then
continued :

“Perhaps I have
stressed my contention on
the type of nerve travel
impulse too strongly. It
seems that the ray you
saw must be electrical in
nature and that the reac-
tion of the apparently
dead dog to it partakes of
the implantation upon his
nervous system of an ex-
traneous electrical impulse
which stimulates a quies-
cent, yet not e.xtinct func-
tion. But I am not sure
after all. That ray will
penetrate flesh, but not
metal if the metal be
grounded. It makes a
clatter in an ordinary
radio very much like old-fashioned summer static. I
think it is electrical, but I’ve never proved it, because
almost as soon as I discovered it, I fell upon its peculiar
effect upon nerve tissue and I have followed that line
exclusively since.

“I neglected to tell you that before those dogs were
chloroformed to death, they were each given sufficient
alkali salts intravenously to insure alkalinization of the
brain tissue and so lessen the autolysis which occurs less
in the brain, as you know, than in the body, but which is
still appreciable within a few hours after death. After
they were quite dead, every possible bit of blood was
withdrawn from them, defibrinated to prevent clot, a
trace of arsenic to check body decay was added, and the
blood pumped back. The dog which you saw first has
been there three weeks, apparently asleep, the low, but
necessary metabolism being supported by a few grams
of glucose given intravenously each day. The second
was killed two days ago and,” he smiled, “has been the
subject of further experiment which I hope to re-enact
for you in a few moments.

“Sufficient time has elapsed for the dog to have re-

THE BRAIN ACCELERATOR

gained his normal metabolic rate, as you might say, to
be accustomed to living again, so let us return to the
laboratory.”

The Colonel opened the case and examined the dog.
He felt its body and pried open the jaws to see the
tongue. The interior of the mouth was pink and moist ;
the eyes were still closed but the heart and respiratory
rates were normal for a sleeping dog.

He carefully closed the case and adjusting the beam
of light until it again covered the whole head, threw
another switch. A high frequency generator, something
like an old-fashioned wireless telegraph transmitter,
leaped into life with a hiss and crackle and instantly the
greenish beam became suffused with a million tiny flashes
of red that shot from the small or auxiliary X-ray tube
and corruscated from the screen down its length. The
dog, as the combined ray struck him, moved his head.
The Colonel adjusted a dial and the red flashes increased
in intensity; the dog stirred further and in a moment
opened his eyes and raised his head to look about. He
stretched and yawned, just as a man might upon awaken-
ing from a natural sleep. The Colonel stopped the ma-
chinery and spoke to him sharply. He rose and nosed
the glass next the Colonel in friendly greeting. The
Colonel opened the door of the cage and out jumped an
apparently normal dog.

He staggered a moment as
he struck the floor, then
seemed to recover h i s
strength. The Colonel
called his name affection-
ately and the dog went to
him and leaped up with
every demonstration of a
pet who has just found
his master after long sepa-
ration.

The Colonel stooped
and patted his head for a
moment and sat down
upon his stool. The dog
crouched at his feet, then
lay down upon the floor
and in a moment was
asleep. The Colonel mo-
tioned me to the other
stool, and drawing cigars
from his pocket, offered
one to me. While he
fumbled for a match he
seemed to be pondering.

LOOKED at him ex-
pectantly. I had wit-
nessed something beyond
tbe ordinary experience of
man, and it seemed better
to await his lead before
plunging into the mass of
questions that came to my mind in quick succession.

He thought for at least a full minute and finally
started upon an apparently irrelevant subject.

“Bruno was my pet for years. Was I right to use
him? It looks,” he seemed to be arguing with himself
in an abstracted way, “like betraying a friend. Yet, the
other has been unbanned for two weeks and I know
how much Bruno knows and he trusts me enough to

co-operate as much as any animal can. Besides” — then
suddenly seeming to recall my presence, he looked up
with a quick smile and said half apologetically, “Murphy
rated me soundly for using Bruno in my experiments
when I have a whole roomful of curs over there.” He
indicated tlie door leading from the ell.

“After I found out how to handle the ray, it seemed
to affect them only slightly after the experiment was
over and for the next thing I want to show you I need
an animal of proven intelligence. Other than an apparent
need for sleep and a tendency to lose weight, they seem
normal afterward and it is not convenient to use a
strange dog when he cannot be confined during the ex-
periment.

“Now,” falling once more into his usual manner, “I
told you that I had something further to show you and
I meant something more than this resuscitation. I felt
very elated over that, though I doubt if it will ever be
more than a toy as regards its use on humans, until I
have gone further along the line that I indicated by my
talk on silent areas of the brain. Oh, I know,” as I
started to speak, “there are a thousand phases of the thing
to be worked out, but I am interested now only in this
one.

“You have seen that I revived this dead dog by apply-
ing through this ray a
stimulant which started
anew the vital processes
that we call life, and
which seem to have their
center in the brain. Now,
whether, as I said before,
this is a chemical affair
which stopped with death
and was started again by
some sort of catalytic ac-
tion due to the application
of the suitable electrical
charge, or whether it is
purely electrical and as
such answered to the
proper electrical v i b r a-
tions, I do not know. I
think it is the latter, be-
cause, as I shall soon
show you, the same pro-
cess can be accelerated or
at least one of the mani-
festations of life can be
accelerated by an increase
in one of the components
of the ray and this with
no addition to or subtrac-
tion from the elements in
the subject.

“But I said we could
draw our conclusions
afterward. Come, Bruno.”
He awakened the sleep-
ing dog, who seemed reluctant to stir, and led him to
a spot on the floor near the glass cabinet. A word or two
and the dog lay down again and in a moment was asleep.

The Colonel swung a long metal arm out from the
wall, and after adjusting a clamp, reached into the cabinet
for the tubes. Working quickly yet carefully, he soon
had them in place and after connecting longer wires to
the contacts, stepped toward the bench and threw the

/ have tried it on myself

704

AMAZING STORIES

switch. The tubes lighted and he again turned them out,
then removed the condensing shutter from the bottom
and replaced it with another and larger one. When he
had finished, I saw that the apparatus with its larger con-
denser swung on an arm with its active side over the
dog and freely adjustable in any direction.

This time when he threw the switch, the greenish glow
appeared in a wide-spread cone, which he carefully nar-
rowed until it just embraced the whole form of the dog.
The Colonel adjusted another control and threw the
switch that started the stream of reddish sparks down
the beam. This time, however, the corruscations were
more purple in color, and as he moved the control still
more, they changed to the violet of an ordinary Hertzian
discharge, glancing down the cone of light like a flood of
tiny lightnings. There was also a continuous crackling
noise like that from a spark gap and I detected the tin-
gling fragrance of ozone in the air.

A t first the dog gave no sign of effect from the ray
. but soon he raised his head and seemed to awaken.
The Colonel locked the control he had been moving, then
stepped to the tube and adjusted the condenser mech-
anism until the dog lay in the center of a green circle
about ten feet in diameter. He lay there quietly, his
head raised and his eyes open until the Colonel spoke
his name, then he turned to look and finally stood, exactly
as if he were giving the Colonel his attention or awaiting
a command.

1 he Colonel walked to the bench and selected a number
of objects, a large cork mat, some test tubes and pieces
of bent glass tubing. He laid them upon the floor at the
edge of the cone of light and spoke to the dog.

“Bruno, bring me the piece of cork.”

The animal quietly walked over, picked it up in his
mouth and brought it to his master.

“Now bring the long piece of glass with the curve at
one end.”

There were two pieces of tubing that were both long
and bent, but one was curved in the middle and the
other twisted into a curve at one end. This proved hard
to handle in his mouth but the dog finally secured it and
carried it to the Colonel.

“Bruno, go into the library and bring tlie small book
on the table.”

The dog did so, laying it at the Colonel’s feet.

“Now, go back into the library, take my hat from the
couch and put it on my chair, then bring the doctor’s
cane, which is on the desk.”

Bruno trotted into the library. We heard him moving
about and soon he came in with my stick in his mouth.
“Give it to the doctor.”

He moved toward me. “No, handle first and give it
to his left hand.”

My stick bore a knob upon one end while the other was
plain and the dog turned it about and presented it handle
foremost to my left side, which happened to be turned
away from him.

The Colonel leaned forward and spoke again,

“Bruno, how much are four and three ?”

The dog looked puzzled. “All right, scratch on the
floor and tell me the answer.”

The dog scratched upon the floor seven times, then
stood regarding him intently.

The Colonel turned to me. “Ask him to do something,
anything simple of which he may have heard the name
but something that you may know I have not taught him.

I spoke to the dog. “Bruno, are you afraid of thun-
der ? Move your head in answer as we do.”

Emphatically his moved up and down.

“How do you act when you hear music ?”

He raised his head and howled.

“Bruno, I brought two bags with me tonight (as I had)
and they are on the floor in the library. Bring me the
small one.”

He trotted out and in a moment came in with my small
emergency satchel, placed it at my feet and then lay
down in the center of the circle of light.

I looked across at the Colonel and saw him sitting on
his stool half asleep. I noticed also that I had become
fatigued. Looking at my watch I was surprised to find
it already two o’clock in the morning and some hours
past my usual bed time. I aroused the Colonel and he
turned off the machine in unspoken agreement that it
was time to suspend our experiments for the night. He
turned off the laboratory lights and led the way to the
library, leaving the dog quietly sleeping on the floor,

TX^E both seemed surprisingly tired for the amount
» ^ of exertion we had undergone, even considering
the unusual mental turmoil that the weird experience
had occasioned. The Colonel seemed lost in thought,
while I relaxed in a chair without energy to propound
the questions or advance the suggestions that were
clamoring in my mind. The Colonel poured wine for
both of us, and under its genial cheer, I felt refreshed.

“You have seen,” he said, “that the ray I demonstrated
appears to be electrical in character and that it has the
power not only to keep an animal in a state of uncon-
sciousness for an indefinite period, but that it also seems
to revive the dead when no actual dissolution of tissue
has taken place. I may as well say now that this latter
phenomenon does not occur unless the proper care as to
alkalinization of the tissues and for the prevention of
clotting of the blood is taken, hence, my pessimism as
to its applicability in human therapy. At first, every dog
I tried it upon failed to respond if it had been dead more
than three minutes; it was only after I had taken steps
after the method of Koch to prevent tissue autolysis that
I obtained results over that period.

“However, to return to our subject. The ray, by
some process yet to be explained, but which seems to be
electrical, affects the nervous system of an animal so that
it remains in a state of almost suspended animation and
with a variation in its nature causes a nervous system
that is extinct as to function, to reassume and enact the
characteristics of life. It further causes in a live dog
an increase in nervous activity with an attendant increase
in cerebration that unquestionably raises the mental
power of the animal to an unthought of degree.”

“Upon my word. Doctor, the acts you saw the dog per-
form tonight were not the result of training. Bruno is
intelligent and has been my pet for years, but in none
of his actions tonight has he ever been rehearsed. When
he was sent for the small book upon the desk and for
a certain one of the optional two of your bags, he did as
he was directed, which can only mean that he understood
the command and exercised the mental power of dis-
crimination. When I sent him to perform two compli-
cated acts in moving the book and bringing your stick,
he demonstrated memory for two individual commands
which is beyond the mental power of an average dog. He
deduced an answer to my question of the sum of four
and three and the only acquaintance he has had with

THE BRAIN ACCELERATOR

705

7 shouted to him, and then followed, for it was
obvious self-destruction to attempt to approach
the house, much less enter it, as he seemed bent
upon doing

numerical values was yesterday when, in the same type
of experiment I repeated to him the numerals from one
to ten, and illustrated them by blocks of wood.

“In short. Doctor, however incomplete the demonstra-
tion has been, I think I have proved to you that my ray
has opened a new field of biological research with far-
reaching possibilities. Do you realize, man,” once more
he leaned forward in his earnestness while his eyes held
the light of scientific fervor, “what those possibilities are ?

“The acceleration of mental function, if successful in
animals, can be successful in man. An increase of one
hundred per cent only would produce a race of supermen,
while, if as I believe, this increase is by way of an in-
crease in the number of synapses or contacts of the or-
dinarily functioning brain tissue with the vast areas that
we know have no demonstrable activity at present, the
increase need not be by hundreds but by thousands of
per cent. Think of the strides that would be made over-
night in science, in medicine, in political economy, in mo-
rality (which is after all a mental attribute), by the pure
effect of such an increase in inductive reasoning power 1
^ly friend, do we hold the key to Utopia in my poor
machinery in the next room ?”

As he finished, the Colonel relaxed in his chair. His
enthusiasm seemed in no whit abated, yet he had an air
of one suddenly grown tired. His eyes took on a look
of infinite weariness, the muscles around his mouth
loosened and sagged, even his very skin seemed suddenly
grey and wrinkled like one grown old.

My own mind felt dulled. A hundred questions had
been milling there and yet when I came to propound
them, they seemed suddenly unimportant. I wanted to
sleep ; the stimulus of the wine was gone and instead of
evaluating the Colonel’s words and attempting to inter-
pret what I had seen, my thoughts persisted in drifting
to a focus upon my bed at home. Physically I was tired
too; I felt the innervation, it seemed, of days without
rest.

The Colonel’s head dropped upon his breast and he
seemed almost asleep. Attributing our lethargy to too
much excitement, too many impressions at once, and
realizing that my impulse to sleep was the correct one
to follow, I roused him and saw him make for the couch
in the library, then started home. I stumbled as I went
out and felt that the distance to my car was endless but
I reached it and my house and room without incident. I
turned in, as sailors say “all standing” and my last con-
scious thought before I fell asleep was not of the things

I had seen or of the Colonel’s words but of the strange
fact that we should both so suddenly yield to fatigue.

I T was far past daylight when I awakened, eleven
o’clock to be exact, and my weariness of the night
was quite gone, although something of a curious feeling
of mental dullness remained, not unlike, I must confess,
the feeling that sometimes follows overstimulation from
alcohol. As I dressed I pondered over the events of the
night, but when I reached my office I found a reception
room well filled with patients who kept me occupied
until mid-afternoon.

Toward the last of them I found it difficult to concen-
trate. I thought little of the things the Colonel had
demonstrated and less of the possibilities in his dis-
covery, but a feeling of fear came over me and grew
until I was absolutely unstrung. I know that my last
two patients were a pair of highly respectable and elderly
neurasthenics, who had been coming in for months and
who left quite indignant at my sudden plain and some-
what frank diagnosis of their cases.

They had barely left the office, and since I had no
more appointments, I was preparing to leave, when there
came a hurried ring and the steps of some one who was
starting into my consultation room without waiting for
admittance. I opened the door with some displeasure,
which vanished when I saw Murphy. His face bore a
troubled look and he gave evidence of having run most
of the way to my office. In his hand was a sealed letter
and he proffered it to me and broke into stumbling
speech.

“Please, Doctor, the Colonel says to give this to you,
and here it is, but I say of myself, please come with me
quick. The Colonel has been doing funny things in his
laboratory and he doesn’t look good at all. There is some-
thing wrong; I’m thinking his blasted experiments have
led him into a trap and I wish you would come up.”

After which, quite out of breath and with a badly
worried look on his honest red face, Murphy dropped
into a chair and began to fan himself with his cap. I
started to open the letter but he broke in :

“Please Doctor, come now, you can read that later
and I think we should get to the Colonel right away.”
Impressed by his earnestness and perhaps with some-
(Continued on page 719)

/ T is a rare treat indeed to receive so deeply thought out a story dealing with
chemistry and we are glad to pass this treat right on to our many readers
who are interested in that science. Enzymes is an excellent subject for illustrat-
ing the action of those mysterious chemicals which bring about a reaction without
suffering any change themselves.

Man has learned how to harness nature's force of electricity, although he
does not know what it is. Why can't he learn the secret of cold light?

The author, professionally specializing in chemistry, has woven an excellent
story around this subject. We hope he will give us more soon.

CHAPTER I
The Human Firefly

. , . IVHATf”

Lem Turner, the village postmaster,
dropped the packet of letters which he was
sorting and peered quizzically over the tops
of his spectacles at the trembling figure

before him.

“A face ! . . . a head 1 ... a man’s head,” panted the
other, “all lighted up and shinin’ in the darkness!” He
gulped once or twice and essayed to moisten his dry lips
with a drier tongue. “Honest now, Lem, I ain’t spoofin’
you! I saw it starin’ at me from behind that elm tree
just before you cross the creek!”

The postmaster turned slowly, removed his spectacles
with extreme deliberation, and regarded the agitated
youth with an eye that reflected ill-disguised pity.

“Do you, William Sheridan,” he finally drawled,
“think for one moment that I will believe a single word
of what you’re telling me? Ha — ha! A shinin’ face
a-gleamin’ in the darkness ! Why, you’ve just been seein’
things, that’s all. Your trouble, my dear friend Bill, is
a too dern close acquaintance with that there apple cider
of yours. You’d better go a little easy with the stuff,
’cause it might do you a powerful lot of harm. He — ^lie !
— a ghost- face a-peekin’ out at you from behind a tree !
That’s rich ! Pretty soon you’ll be tellin’ me about seein’
pale green elephants all lit up and a-flyin’ through the
air, or maybe a hipperpotamouse or two gallavantin’
around among the tree tops and shootin’ electric sparks
from their horns !”

“But I tell you I saw it with my own eyes 1” persisted
Bill Sheridan, his paled features exhibiting an earnest-
ness that was almost imploring, “and I ain’t touched a
drop of that cider in three days, too. There was this
face not ten feet from me, shinin’ with a sort of green-
ish-blue light, and it came right out from behind that elm
and hung there, suspended-like, with its eyes lookin’
straight at me. And what eyes ! — yellow and sparklin’,
just like a couple of red-hot coals — ^and they blinked at

me. Ugh!” The very memory of the awful spectacle
brought a shudder to the narrator’s frame. “And the
mouth — it moved and it grinned at me — not a mean
kind of a grin, but sort of pleasant and sociable-like, as
though intendin’ no harm, but just tryin’ to be nice and
friendly ”

Bill Sheridan paused to catch his breath and wipe the
beads of cold sweat that stood out on his ashen forehead.

“And then it slid back around the tree trunk and dis-
appeared — ^just faded out,” he continued, “and I didn’t
wait to investigate any, but just naturally lit out and
wasted no time in puttin’ as much ground between me
and that there tree as I could ! Guess I must of tripped
a couple of times,” he added ruefully as he gazed down
at his dusty and disheveled clothing, meantime nursing a
bruised knee that protruded through a jagged tear in his
trouser leg.

Postmaster Turner, still scoffing, still skeptical as to
Bill’s state of sobriety, but impressed by the latter’s ear-
nest demeanor and evident sincerity, determined to in-
vestigate for himself. Moreover, as Sheriff Turner of
Baker County, it behooved him to look keenly into such
disturbing and unearthly occurrences as being likely to
interfere with the peace and harmony of the little com-
munity.

The two emerged into the darkness of a cloudy eve-
ning. Bill Sheridan, still trembling from his earlier har-
rowing experience, was somewhat bolstered up in cour-
age by the physical presence of Lem Turner. The latter,
with the knowledge that law and righteousness were on
his side, and with the moral and material support of a
ponderous six-shooter held in immediate readiness for
action, was prepared for any emergency.

Hardly had the two men penetrated a dozen steps into
the shadow that blanketed the road like a mantle when
Bill came to an abrupt halt and gripped the sheriff’s arm,
trembling.

“Look !” he gasped. “There, to the right 1 — just over
that hedge ! See it ? — ^the face — the head — all lit up and
shiny 1”

The otherwise indomitable minion of the law stood
rooted in unconcealed terror at the strange apparition

706

By

William
Lem kin,

Ph.D.

that presented itself to his unbe-
lieving eyes. From over the top
of the hedge there slowly rose a
luminous face, as weird and
ghostlike a spectacle as ever met
the horrified gaze of human eye.
It was normal in size, a perfect
human face and head, with kindly
eyes and smiling, far from un-
pleasant lips. The skin radiated
a pale-green, phosphorescence,
and the eyes were, as Bill Sheri-
dan had described them, shining
forth like glowing coals of fire,
with a piercing yellow gleam.

Illustraied

by

McGERR

For fully a
minute the
two adven-
turers stood
transfixed
— every
muscle taut and para-
lyzed. They stared in
open-mouthed amaze-
ment at the superhu-
man spectacle.

708

AMAZING STORIES

F or fully a minute the two adventurers stood trans-
fixed — rooted to the spot — every muscle taut and
paralyzed. They stared in open-mouthed, open-eyed
amazement at the superhuman spectacle, while the lumi-
nous face stared back with a fixed and unflinching gaze.
Then, like a flash, it was gone! It did not slide down
again behind the protective shadow of the hedge, whence
it had so mysteriously risen. Neither did it move to the
right nor to the left. It simply went out, just as an elec-
tric light bulb is snapped off by a turn of the switch.

Bill Sheridan, having been treated to a similar visita-
tion less than a half hour previously, was the first to
emerge from the state of suspended animation into which
the sudden apparition had flung them.

“Quick, Lem! — the gun — shoot!” he whispered
hoarsely into his companion’s ear. The officer, roused
out of his stupor, became the picture of action, brandish-
ing his weapon and prancing about with extreme agita-
tion. But what to shoot ? where to shoot ? How can one,
no matter how well-meaning his intentions may be, shoot
at an invisible target? Lem Turner peered about in all
directions, but the enveloping blackness was unbroken,
except for an occasional flash and twinkle of light, as a
firefly flitted past. The mysterious, luminous face was
nowhere to be seen.

“There you are now — as plain as day !” whispered Bill,
casting furtive glances into the surrounding gloom. “I
wasn’t foolin’ neither, was I, Lem? That’s just the way
it looked over by that elm tree, only the other time it
didn’t disappear so suddenly, like it did right here. What
do you think it is, Lem? Shall we go and chase it out
into the open? Maybe we’d better get the rest of the
force first.”

“Darned if I can make out this whole business,” mused
Turner, scratching his head thoughtfully and nervously
toying with his gun. “That don’t look like a ghost, at
least from what I’ve heard say about them. Somebody
might be up to some practical joke maybe or else . . .”

A crunching sound as of a footstep behind them froze
the words in the speaker’s throat. They both wheeled
swiftly, to be met by the same startling vision that had
appeared over the hedge just a few minutes before. The
luminous face appeared to be suspended at about the level
of their eyes and was no more than five feet distant from
them. The greenish phosphorescence that characterized
its previous appearance was now gone. Instead, the mys-
terious visage gleamed forth with a pure, blue-white light.
Every feature of the face was vividly delineated, the
high forehead, the eyes of penetrating yellow fire, the
long aquiline nose, the thin, half-parted lips and the firm
chin.

The supernatural apparition drew closer, seemingly
floating through the darkness as though with the aid of
invisible wires. It was now a bare two feet away from
the men, who once again had been paralyzed into immo-
bility by the fearsome sight. The glowing lips parted
into a smile. Then suddenly a luminous hand emerged
out of the gloom — a thin, bony hand that emitted the
same bluish-white light as the face — and gently touched
Lem Turner’s arm.

“Gentlemen — I beg your par !”

The touch of the ghostlike hand and the sound of the
hollow, sepulchral tones that came forth from the lumi-
nous cavity that represented the mouth of the face served
to break the spell into which the two horrified spectators
had been cast. Galvanized into violent action once again.
Turner sprang a step to the rear and bellowed :

“Stand back there ! — be you ghost or man or whatever
you are! — I’m goin’ to shoot!"

Quick as a flash the luminous apparition was gone —
face, hand and all. Then “bang! bang! bang!” — ^the
sheriff’s trusty weapon barked into the night. The sound
of hurried footsteps retreated down the road and the
officer emptied his gun in their direction.

The roar of this unusual cannonading brought the
excited populace pell-mell out of their homes, to form an
agitated group in the roadway, all gesticulating and in-
quiring at once. Lem Turner and Bill Sheridan, being
the only eye-witnesses of the astonishing visitation, w'ere
besieged with questions. A luminous face ? What busi-
ness did such an unearthly thing have, prowling around
those peaceful parts? The puzzled citizenry shook their
heads in bewilderment and assisted in scouring the im-
mediate vicinity with lanterns and torches in the hope of
scaring the inhuman being, whatever it was, out into the
open. They beat the thicket in all directions, flashed
their lights behind the bushes and into every possible hid-
ing place and even up into the branches of all trees in the
neighborhood, but the hunt was fruitless. The mysteri-
ous night prowler, whether human or supernatural, had
effected a clean escape.

Not a single soul in the village of Bakersville slept a
wink that night. Everyone was on the qui vive for a pos-
sible reappearance of this strange marauder. But the
luminous face did not make itself visible again for the
remainder of the night. The following evening, how-
ever, the Widow Galey was terrified almost into insensi-
bility by the sudden flashing of the same glowing face at
her kitchen window. An hour or so later the Phillips’
hired man stumbled precipitously into the living room of
the farmhouse with his face bearing a death-like pallor,
his teeth chattering and his eyes rolling wildly. Between
gasps he reported having seen the horrifying spectacle of
a human head and torso, all ablaze in a lurid brilliance,
moving rapidly down the road. The shoulders, chest and
back were bare and gleamed brightly in the darkness of
the road. The luminous arms swung briskly and the
entire torso, ending abruptly at the waistline, jogged
along the highway, suspended above the ground at just
about the normal height of a human body.

F eeling was now beginning to run high in Bakers-
ville at this mystifying spectre. It was true that, so
far, it had caused no material damage to anyone in^the
village. Outside of scaring a few of the good village
folk half out of their wits, the bold visitor had demon-
strated himself as totally innocuous. But what did this
all mean ? What was the explanation for such unearthly
doings? Many were the theories and conjectures ex-
pounded and debated in the attempt to solve the puzzle.
Butler, the village pharmacist, was of the opinion that
some practical joker was making ingenious use of lumi-
nous paint and was enjoying a good laugh at the expense
of the terrorized populace.

“Just some calcium or zinc sulphide,” he argued, “is
all that’s necessary to make a good luminous paint that’ll
shine in the dark. Or else he’s using some of the stuff
they put on those so-called ‘radium’ watch dials.”

But whoever heard of luminous paint or radium dial
compounds that shone forth with such dazzling brilliance
as demonstrated in the later appearances of this light-
emitting visitor ? Moreover, how would you then account
for the instantaneous extinguishing of the mysterious
luminosity, as attested by the several eye-witnesses ? And

COLD LIGHT

709

then again, there was the matter of the piercing eyes like
glowing coals, that blinked in the most lifelike fashion.
Certainly it was something more than luminous paint.

Others in the village, who professed a semi-scientific
turn of mind, brought forth different hypotheses. Some
thought that the luminosity of this strange character was
a phenomenon akin to the phosphorescent glowing of
damp wood in a forest. Some scamp, they argued, was
employing an extract or derivative from damp wood,
with which extract he coated his body in order to have
some innocent fun with the inhabitants of the vicinity.
A iew scoffers opined that the whole scheme was an
advertising stunt to gain publicity for some new cigarette,
and thus pave the way for a huge selling campaign in the
countryside. A half dozen of the more religiously in-
clined members of the community insisted that it was a
sigjt from heaven, a mystic symbol or warning to a sin-
ning world that the Day of Judgment was close at hand.

The luminous visitor continued to appear from time to
time in various parts of the vicinity. Now he would
emerge as merely a glowing face flitting through the
shrubbery along a dark road or coursing in and out
among the trees. Then he would be reported as patrol-
ing an unfrequented region among the nearby hills,
stripped to the waist, with half his body glowing brightly.
On one occasion, two boys, skirting the mill pond one
dark, sultry night, were startled to see the luminous
stranger disporting himself in the cool waters, his entire
body glowing with a brilliant sheen that was reflected in
myriad ripples of luminescence as he dived and splashed.
His sole garment, so the boys reported, appeared to be a
diminutive pair of dark bathing trunks which seemed
almost invisible in contrast with the blinding brilliance
of the rest of his body. The awed spectators of this
remarkable performance remained concealed as long as
they dared and then fled in a panic as he approached their
hiding place.

Reports of the unearthly happenings about Bakersville
spread far and wide. News reporters and editorial
writers devoted considerable space to the exploits of the
mysterious visitor. Although he confined his luminous
visitations to only a narrow locality, his fame extended to
the remotest parts of the land. The “Human Firefly”
was the appellation given to him by those who witnessed
his recurring appearances. The title was a singularly
appropriate one, for like a firefly he would suddenly
burst into a blaze of light and then flash off again as by
the pressing of a magic switch. People spoke in awed
whispers about him, and many a fearful glance was cast
over many a shoulder as a hunched figure hastened down
a lonely road or through a deserted street after dark.

CHAPTER II
The “Colite Luminor”

W HEN young Walter Graham entered Dr.
Hament’s laboratory as general assistant, it was
with a feeling of profound admiration for the
remarkable scientist and deep fascination for the absorb-
ing problem with which his giant intellect was struggling.

Arthur T. H ament, Ph.D .! — the very name engen-
dered a magical awe in the heart of the young assistant.
There w'as a name to conjure with ! And the problem —
cold light ! — the dream of modern science was now, after
those three years of ceaseless and painstaking experimen-
tation, on the very verge of realization. Up there in the

little laboratory that perched on the hilltop just outside
the village of Bakersville the secret of the firefly and the
glow-worm was slowly being wrested from reluctant
nature to be put to practical use by mankind.

Walter carefully set down the flask of fluorescent
liquid, turned off the pet-cock that was bubbling a steady
stream of gas through the apparatus and sauntered over
to the open window that admitted the refreshing breeze
of a midsummer evening. He was in a ruminative frame
of mind, something of extreme rarity in those crowded
days and nights of assiduous experimenting and testing
and observation and planning. Busy months they had
been, months of unparalleled absorption in the profound
problem. -Of setbacks there had been many and discour-
agements galore, but ever the two workers — the indom-
itable scientist and his eager assistant — had plunged
onward in the struggle for the precious secret. Now it
was almost within reach.

Walter gazed dreamily out upon the shadowy land-
scape, dotted here and there with the intermittent flash-
ings of innumerable fireflies as they flitted in and out
through the warm atmosphere. He smiled to himself as
he thought of how green and inexperienced he had been
when first he joined forces with Dr. Hament in his in-
spiring task.

Man, he thought, might well pride himself upon his
development of heat, light and electricity, upon which
present-day comfort is so largely dependent. Should
these modern wonders suddenly disappear, their absence
would be sorely missed. But, reflected the young scien-
tist, methods of producing heat, light and electricity have
long been possessed by living creatures, which have equip-
ment far different from man’s crude furnace, lamp or
dynamo. And crude they were indeed, young Graham
pondered, and smiled inwardly at the thought of how
poorly man’s devices compare with the ingenious mechan-
isms found in nature. In the matter of heat production,
mammals and birds maintain their body temperature
continually above that of their surroundings. By the
oxidation of food in their tissues they may be said to
possess eternal fires, and their efficient system of thermo-
regulation makes them independent of cold. Several
forms of marine life, such as the electric fish, young
Graham mused, can generate a considerable current of
electricity, sufficient even to ring a bell or light an in-
candescent lamp.

But it was in the field of bioluminescence, the produc-
tion of light by living organisms, where Graham’s
thoughts lingered fondly. That was the work to which
his chief and idol. Dr. Hament, had devoted his life, the
work which held out so much inspiration and promise to
the young scientist. Walter smiled at the memory of
the first time when he viewed the remarkable phenomenon
of the phosphorescence or “burning of the sea” — ^the
water a vivid sheet of flame when disturbed by a passing
ship.

^ “That,” Dr. Hament had explained to him at the time,
“is one of the most interesting examples of biolumi-
nescence. Some very fantastic theories have been ad-
vanced to account for this strange occurrence. At one
time the belief was held that the light owed its origin
to putrefaction, because it has been known that dead
matter might, under certain conditions, become luminous.
Others were of the opinion that it was due to the pres-
ence of the element phosphorus in sea water, which
glowed in the dark, as it used to glow on the head of an
old time match. One scientist conjectured that the sur-

710

AMAZING STORIES

face of the sea imbibed light during the day time, which
it later discharged, much like a luminous paint made with
a mineral such as calcium sulphide. Others believed that
the light of the sea was electric, because it was excited
by friction. But all of these theories are now obsolete.
It has been established beyond doubt that the phosphor-
escence of the sea is due to animals living in it — most of
them microscopic in size, as the dinoflagellates or nocti-
luca, but many visible to the naked eye, such as the comb
jelly-fish {Ctenophores).”

ALTER had marveled at the old scientist’s vast

’ ' fund of information, but had been elevated to su-
preme heights of admiration when he first initiated him
into the mystery of the firefly, and its method of cold
light production.

“Very few people,” Dr. Hament had informed him,
“realize how many luminiscent organisms there are. A
survey of the animal kingdom reveals at least forty dif-
ferent orders containing one or more forms known to
produce light. In addition, at least two groups of plants
are luminscent, the fungi, which produce the phosphor-
escence of damp wood, and the bacteria, which cause
dead meat or fish and other dead organic matter to give
off light.”

The flitting sparks that denoted the tiny fireflies circled
and flashed through the impenetrable darkness without.
The young experimenter tried to follow each evanescent
flash, and laughed to himself at his foolishness. How
vividly he remembered Dr. Hament’s careful dissection
of this marvelous little insect, and his lucid exposition
of how it produced its mysterious cold light.

“Here, Walter, look,” the old scientist had said, indi-
cating the specimen under the enlarging glass. “There
is the common firefly, which, strictly speaking, is not a fly
at all, but a beetle, belonging to the family Lampyridae,
genera Photinus. Notice that the photogenic organ of
the insect is located in the lower part of the abdomen
and consists of this ventral mass of large cells where the
luminescence originates, and directly behind another layer
of small cells which acts as the reflector. Observe these
large tracheal trunks or air tubes which pass into the
light organ and branch out into every cell. These tubes
give an abundant supply of oxygen to the photogenic
organ. Note also those white thread-like branches, which
are the nerves that control the luminescence. The thick
tube supplying the light-producing cells increases the
flow of oxygen and the light is intensified ; the same air
tube, swayed by the insect’s will, slackens or even sus-
pends the passage of air, and the light grows fainter, or
even goes out. It is, in short, the mechanism of a lamp
which is regulated by the access of air to the wick.”

Walter recalled with a thrill the zealous gleam in Dr.
Hament’s eyes as he led to the topic that was closest to
his heart. “And there,” were the tense words of the
old scientist, “lies the secret of cold light, that remark-
ably efficient luminescence of which the firefly is master,
and which, when made available for the use of mankind,
will revolutionize the field of illumination ! That, my boy,
is our great problem. I have already done a good deal
of the preliminary work, but the problem is still far from
a satisfactory solution. With your great help and co-
operation, with the benefit of your youthful vigor and
imagination, coupled with your keen scientific insight, I
am certain that we shall be able soon to present to a
startled and appreciative world the wonderful secret of
cold light.”

Standing there now by the open window of the labora-
tory, young Graham could not control the flush of em-
barrassment that rose to his cheeks at the mere memory
of those impressive words, just as it mounted and over-
whelmed him in a stammering and incoherent confusion
of speech on that occasion more than three years ago.
With vigorous determination, and a wealth of enthusiasm
the two had plunged into an interminable series of re-
searches, involving the minutest detail and exactness of
procedure. They had gone deep into the field of mor-
phology, studying the form and arrangements of the
structures possessed by plants and animals, in investi-
gating the cause of their luminescence. They had pored
over volumes on entymology, digging out bit by bit the
secrets of luminous insects. They had delved into the
intricate chemistry of the light-producing medium, en-
gaging in a vast number of patient analyses and equally
painstaking syntheses. They had invaded the domain of
the physicist in the study of the nature of bioluminescence
and its physical measurements. They had penetrated the
field of the illumination engineer in a minute study of
light control and light efficiency. Many of their experi-
ments had ended in failure. Frequently, after a long and
tedious series of steps, involving work of the minutest
detail, they had found themselves figuratively facing a
blank wall. After such a heartbreaking climax, they
would be compelled to retrace their steps, and laboriously
commence on a different tack. Long and arduous had the
battle been, and now victory was just around the corner.

Walter’s revery was broken by a footstep at the door
of the laboratory. Dr. Hament entered and sank wearily
into a chair.

“The Human Firefly!” he laughed half to himself.
“That’s not such a bad appellation, is it Walter? But it’s
getting to be a dangerous business, what with people
shooting at me, and one thing or another. I believe,
however, that the last injection of alpha-luctferin was the
best so far. My control of oxidation was beautiful, al-
most as efficient as the original firefly itself. There’s
none of that infernal lag which troubled us so at the
beginning of our experiments with these subcutaneous
injections. And as for the brilliance of illumination, I
am confident that the comparison will make that ambi-
tious little insect hide its head in shame.”

“And you think,” asked his youthful assistant eagerly,
“that the three amino groups are now in their correct
position in the compound ? I was working all afternoon
on the preparations for another synthesis run, to bring
the groups in the 1 :2 ;7 positions, and swing the third
hydroxyl back to its old place near the end of the second-
ary carbon chain.”

“No, my boy,” replied Dr. Hament, “I believe we
now have the alpha-luciferin structure definitely fixed in
its final form. We’ve got the problem just where we
want it, Walter,” and with a merry laugh and an affec-
tionate hug, “we have now reached the point where we
are going to ‘out-gloiv’ the glow-worm!”

“Judging from what I have heard about the neigh-
borhood,” smiled Graham, “and from the reports in all
the newspapers in this part of the state, you have created
a tremendous furore with your mystifying luminescent
appearances.”

“To be sure I have kicked up a considerable rumpus in
these parts,” returned Dr. Hament with an amused
twinkle in his eyes, “and maybe I’ve put more of a scare
into the simple village folk than I really ought to have.
I can see where this vital information which we have in

COLD LIGHT

711

our possession would, in the hands of an individual with
malicious intentions, be a powerful influence for evil.
However, as I have already explained to you, my purpose
has been to synthesize the photogenic material that was
responsible for the firefly’s luminescence, study its physi-
cal and chemical properties, and determine the conditions
under which it may be put to a practical use in the solu-
tion of the problem of cold light. Of course, Walter,
human luminescence, as w'e have succeeded in perfecting
it, can have no real practical significance. And yet, out-
side of being a curious and an exceedingly romantic phe-
nomenon, it has served a useful purpose in enabling us
to garner a w'ealth of valuable information as to the
mechanism of the firefly’s luminosity. Some day, per-
haps after our main problem is solved, we’ll come back
and play around in this interesting field of human lumi-
nescence. I am confident that we shall discover some
means of prolonging the virility of the alpha-luciferin in-
jection beyond its present short life of only a few hours.
There is one undeniable benefit, however, which will ac-
crue to oUr cause by virtue of my nightly prowlings
about the neighborhood.

“There is no gainsaying that the populace is now
definitely aroused to a high pitch of excitement and
expectancy in this matter.

“The subject of the firefly and luminescence in general
has taken a tremendous hold on the popular fancy and
curiosity.

“Can’t you see, my boy, how the widespread publicity
has paved the way for the momentous occasion when we
shall present our valuable work to the world? It has
constituted an advance herald, or a press-agent, if you
will, for the real presentation of our cold light which
will be effected in a short time.”

“True enough. Dr. Hament,” replied young Graham,
“and oh, what a shock those illumination experts will
get when we spring the Hament Colite Limiinor on
them !” He pointed to the apparatus on the work-bench,
elaborate to a bewildering degree, but showing in all the
labyrinth of tubing, bulbs and electrical devices a neat-
ness of design, and a precision of construction that de-
noted the touch of an experienced experimenter. “I’ve
been varying the oxygen concentration in the last few
runs, and I’m beginning to get a much smaller propor-
tion of the red end of the spectrum, and a definite shift
up toward the blues.. A little further investigation along
those lines, with a few more tests on the concentration of
the catalyst, and I believe the problem is solved. That is,”
he added with a smile and a glance at the complex ap-
paratus set up before, them, “after we simplify the
mechanism to the ixiint where it may be regarded as
being on a practical basis.”

“Simplification,” answered the old scientist as he
scanned the elaborate device affectionately, “is the last
and easiest part of our task. In a short time, my dear
boy, the world will be startled by these revelations and
industry will be completely revolutionized.”

Apparently heedless of the late hour, the two workers
plunged into their work as though the day had just
commenced. The first streaks of dawn still saw them
busily engaged in weighing out accurate quantities of
mysterious gray powders, removing, shortening, read-
justing rubber and glass tubes, carefully counting glob-
ules of gas bubbling through tall cylinders filled with
strangely colored luminous liquids, and poring over
reams of paper covered with mathematical calculations
and intricate chemical formulas.

CHAPTER III
The Conference

THEN did that fool inventor say he was com-
hig?” growled the president, chewing savagely
“ » on an unlit cigar, and scowling at the re-
mainder of the group in the room. As chief executive
of the powerful International Illumination Corporation,
Theodore F. Joyce had always been in the habit of
scowling and growling as a means of exercising his
authority.

“He ought to be here any minute now,” vouchsafed
Corway, research chief of the vast enterprise. Although
his air was one of complete respect and subservience,
one could note a flash of nervousness and impatience in
his demeanor. The ordeal of waiting was evidently a
trying one, even to a man of his steely nerves.

“There’s no doubt about it,” put in Evans, manager
in charge of North American production, “that his whole
scheme will prove to be a grand flop.” He fidgeted with
a paper weight, and almost dropped it in his agitation.

It was obvious that the men, a dozen or so in number
gathered there in the luxurious inner sanctum of the cor-
poration’s New York office, were in a high state of ner-
vous excitement. They squirmed and shuffled, and whis-
pered among themselves in hoarse tones.

President Joyce strode to the window and gazed
gloomily out at the forest of skyscrapers, and beyond
them to the dimly outlined Palisades far off across the
broad Hudson. His dark brow knit itself into a vicious
frown, and his small, fox-like eyes roved fitfully over
the sun-bathed temples of finance and industry, as though
searching there fo? a solution to the perplexing dilemma
that confronted them.

“I tell you, man, we’ve got to stop this lunatic!” he
thundered, wheeling suddenly and bringing his clenched
fist down upon the glass-topped mahogany directors’
table with such violence that inkwells rattled and papers
flew in all directions. “If we don’t, we’ll be paupers to-
morrow !” He glared menacingly at the group, and shook
a threatening finger at them. “That guy Hament has some-
thing there which can’t be laughed down so easily. There’s
no use in trying to fool ourselves on that point. We’ve
got to quit acting like a lot of ostriches with our heads
stuck in the sand, and face this situation squarely. From
what I’ve been able to gather regarding this man’s in-
vention it seems pretty certain that he really has hit upon
the secret of cold light. And if his idea is at all prac-
ticable, then he is in a position to revolutionize the en-
tire world industry of illumination. With a little financial
backing, which he can most certainly get without any
great trouble, he will stand the lighting business on its
head, and reduce our hundred billion dollar corporation
to the point where it wouldn’t command the proverbial
thirty cents in the open market.”

Joyce snapped his bulldog jaw with a resounding click
to drive home his last point, and glared darkly at the
silent and motionless group about him.

Research Chief Corway bit thoughtfully at the end of
a pencil and drummed the table top with his fingertips.
“I’m not so sure but what we’re inclined to give this fel-
low Hament a little too much credit. I think that we’re
jumping a bit too hastily at conclusions regarding his
solution of the problem of cold light. From our experi-
ments and investigations on this question conducted in
our research laboratories over a period of years, we have

712

AMAZING STORIES

learned enough about cold light to realize that it will
never have any practical or commercial possibilities. True
enough it is found distributed in nature pretty largely,
but man cannot hope ever to convert it to his own ma-
terial use. In the course of our work we have dis-
covered obstacles and difficulties that are completely in-
surmountable. I am convinced that Hament is far from
the correct solution, and never hopes to reach it. He is
probably a slick publicity seeker with a personal axe of
some sort to grind.”

“I’m inclined to believe,” remarked Cobbett, Chairman
of the Board of Directors of the International, “that all
the reports concerning Hament’s invention have been ma-
terially exaggerated. I am thoroughly familiar with the
work of our research staffs on the. solution of the cold
light problem, and I agree with Corway that no amount
of human ingenuity and inventive genius is capable of
converting the firefly’s secret into practical usefulness.
As a scientific curiosity it is an interesting and note-
worthy phenomenon, but beyond ” Cobbett shook his

head dubiously and continued with a meditative air to
fold and unfold a sheet of memorandum paper.

T he irate President continued his impatient tramp-
ing up and down the long executive chamber, his
hands clasped behind him, his huge back humped, and
his dark eyes scowling furiously.

“Research staffs ! — bah !” he roared, stopping peremp-
torily and facing Corway. “A fine lot of idiots you’ve
been able to gather under your expert scientific direc-
tion.” The sarcasm was caustic and biting. Corway
winced in the face of the scathing assault. “Working
day and night, burning up hundreds of thousands every
year, employing the finest of facilities and equipment,
and what have you and your superb staffs accomplished ?
Nothing more than to demonstrate how thoroughly an
obscure and impoverished individual, possessing some
real imagination and horse sense can lick you to a com-
plete standstill. Bosh !” — and Joyce spat derisively — “if I
had had my way, your entire crowd of fancy and high-
priced scientific research talent would have been thrown
out long ago !

“However,” he snapped tersely, “there is no time for
crying now. It’s up to us to stop this fellow Hament
before we find ourselves out in the cold. If he shows us
that he really has something worth while, then we’ve got
to get hold of that invention of his. And,” added Joyce
with significant import in the tone of his voice, “if he
refuses to listen to reason, then we’ll have to use stronger
means. That device won’t be safe except right in our
own possession!”

A knock at the door heralded the coming of a secretary
with the news that Dr. Hament had arrived. The old
scientist entered accompanied by Walter Graham. The
young assistant carried a black bag which he carefully
set down on the table. Dr. Hament smiled his greetings
to the group seated or standing about the room. Even
if he sensed the uninviting coldness of his audience, and
the feeling of electrified tenseness in the atmosphere, he
showed no sign to indicate it. His manner was pleasant
and entirely cordial as he shook hands with President
Joyce.

While young Graham busied himself with the black
bag and its mysterious contents, the inventor faced the
circle of expectant listeners.

“I presume, gentlemen, that you are all acquainted
with the object of my mission,” he began. “My telegram.

I believe, made that perfectly clear. I have brought with
me a small working model of the ‘Colite Luminor,’ which
my assistant is now setting up for demonstration pur-
poses. I am confident, when you see its remarkable per-
formance, that you will be overwhelmed with the stupen-
dous possibilities of cold light in the field of world illumi-
nation.”

Stolid and silent remained the group of powerful
executives. Dr. Hament scanned the immobile and in-
scrutable faces in a half-circle before him, cast a glance
at Graham, occupied in setting up a queer tripod-like
apparatus on the table, and continued :

“I ask your indulgence, gentlemen, while I start my
explanation of the ‘Colite’ principle from the most ele-
mentary beginnings. I realize that I have before me
some of the most expert technical brains of the illumina-
tion field, and that part of what I tell you now will be
to some of you of the most rudimentary simplicity. Yet
it is essential that I make my exposition complete in order
that you may obtain a comprehensive understanding of
my invention.

“According to modern physical theory, light is re-
garded as a succession of wave pulses in the ether. The
ordinary forms of light, such as sunlight, electric light,
gas light, etc., are due to phenomena associated with the
high temperature of the light-producing medium. Every
solid body above the temperature of absolute zero is giv-
ing off waves of different wave length frequency, and
this emanation is known as radiant energy or radiant flux.

“As you all know, the long waves given off in largest
amount from objects at comparatively low temperatures
cause the sensation of warmth. As we raise the temper-
ature, in addition to these longer heat waves, those of
shorter and shorter wave-length are given off in sufficient
quantity to be detected. At about S25'’C, the rays of
short wave-length are just visible as a faint red glow to
the eye. As the temperature is increased, still shorter
wave-lengths become apparent, and the light progresses
through the stages of dark red, cherry red, dark yellow,
bright yellow, white-hot and blue-white, which is attained
at temperatures above 14(X)°C. Our sun and the other
stars in the universe, being at temperatures of about
5000° and higher, emit a pure white light, a mixture of
all wave lengths. This means of producing light, namely
by incandescence, is so universal and so easy that it is no
wonder mankind has adopted it. Practically every il-
luminant^ today is patterned after the sun and stars. We
heat an incandescent lamp filament to the highest tem-
perature possible without volatilizing the filament. It is
not possible to reach the temperature of the sun, but
2000‘’C is attainable, and a considerable percentage of
the electrical energy which heats the filament is radiated
as light and heat.

“You will agree with me, gentlemen, that there is a
most unfortunate and deplorable divergence between the
amount of energy radiated as heat and the amount sent
off in the form of light. The former is fully 98% of the
total radiation, while the latter is only about 2%. If the
useless heat radiation could be eliminated, a two horse-
power engine might run the dynamo to supply our lights
that now require 100 horse-power. Incandescence is a
wasteful way of producing light because it is impossible
to separate the heat radiation from the visible light
radiation.

“However, we know of many cases where substances
produce light at temperatures much below 525 °C. In
these instances, the light emission is stimulated by some

COLD LIGHT

713

other means than heat. We speak of such bodies as
giving off luminescence or cold light. The spectrum of a
luminescent object lies wholly in the visible region, with
no infra-red or ultra-violet. As far as radiation goes, it
is all light, or 100% efficient.

I T IS needless for me to make more than a passing
reference to the various examples of luminescence,
other than the particular variety in which we are here
most interested, namely biohiminescence or the production
of cold light by living organisms, such as the firefly.
There is, for example, the luminescence which appears in
a vacuum tube when an electric current is passed through,
spoken of as electroluminescence.

“Then we have the various phenomena of phosphor-
escence, which, although the term has been used in a very
loose way to indicate all kinds of luminescence, and par-
ticularly that of phosphorous or luminous animals, has,
to the physicist, a very definite meaning, namely the ab-
sorption of radiant energy by substances which after-
wards give this off as light. The best known cases of
such light emitting substances are the sulphides of barium,
calcium, strontium and zinc, prepared by heating to a
high temperature, as sulphides prepared in the wet way
give no light, all commonly used in the manufacture of
luminous paint. If the material gives off light only dur-
ing the time it is radiated, but does not persist after the
excitation, then we speak of fluorescence. As the name
implies, chemiluminescence is the production of light dur-
ing a chemical reaction at low temperatures. This phe-
nomenon should rather be called oxyluminescence because
practically all examples of such light production involve
oxidation reactions. The glow of phosphorus is the
best known case, but other elements will also glow in
the dark, particularly freshly cut sodium and potassium
metals.

“The spectra of luminous animals are quite similar to
those of chemiluminescent reactions. Moreover, as we
have seen, chemiluminescence is essentially an oxylumin-
escence, since oxygen is necessary for the reaction. All
luminous animals also require oxygen for light produc-
tion. Therefore, bioluminescence and chemiluminescence
are similar phenomena, and they differ from all the
other forms of luminescence which I have considered.
The light from the firefly is due to the oxidation of some
substance produced in its cells, and once the structural
formula of this photogenic substance is written, and the
mechanics of this oxidation process is revealed, then the
problem of cold light is solved.

“Two experiments both performed early in the his-
tory of bioluminescence, are of great importance in un-
derstanding the nature of animal light. The eminent
English physicist, Robert Boyle, in 1667, proved that air
is necessary for the organism to give off light. He ex-
hausted the air from around a piece of phosphorescent
wood and the light disappeared ; when he readmitted the
-air, the light returned. In 1794 the Italian scientist,
Spallanzani, discovered that all luminescence required
water, and he showed that he could take any light-pro-
ducing animal and dry it and the light would disappear,
but that if he kept this dried material and at some later
time moistened it again, the light would reappear. In
fact I have kept dried fireflies for ten years and observed
a bright light whenever they were moistened.

“Since water and oxygen are necessary, it is evident
that some material produced by the cells of the animal
is oxidized, and this material is called, to use a general

term, the photogen (light generator), but to use a more
specific term, it is called luciferin. In a strict sense, we
should speak of luciferins, because there are as many
such materials as there are types of luminous animals,
and each luciferin is specific for that particular variety of
living organism.

“Finally we may ask the question: What happens
when luciferin is oxidized? Is it converted into carbon
dioxide and water, as are sugar and fat in our body?
Experiment has shown that no carbon dioxide is pro-
duced from the luminescence of a firefly. This is there-
fore no ordinary oxidation process. Considerable re-
search on this phase of the work has revealed that the
oxidation product is a new material which may be termed
oxy-luciferin, following a nomenclature similar to the
one used for hemoglobin, the red pigment of our blood.
When this latter substance is shaken with air, it be-
comes o.vy-hcmoglobin. If we now place the new prod-
uct under an airpump and exhaust all the air, it returns
to the original hemoglobin. This process is reversible
and will go either one way or the other, depending upon
the amount of oxygen present. Luciferin behaves in a
somewhat similar way, although the regeneration is not
effected in so simple a manner. When a firefly flashes,
it oxidizes its luciferin to oxy-luciferin. When it is rest-
ing in the dark between flashes, the oxy-luciferin is re-
duced back to luciferin, and the firefly is ready for an-
other flash. In other words, this animal may be regarded
as a lamp which burns an ‘oil’ and after that ‘oil’ has been
burned it is reformed, and is ready to be reburned. We
have the process of oxidation and reduction simply go-
ing back and forth according to the amount of oxygen
present.

“It is in the study of luciferin that most of the work
on cold light has been done. Chemically it is a protein
substance, highly complex in structure, and its synthesis
has been the great stumbling block in this research.
However, chemists now synthesize the fats and sugars,
so that they are absolutely identical with the correspond-
ing compounds built up organically by the living cell.
Moreover, we have even succeeded in synthesizing some
of the simpler polypeptides, the intermediate stages in
the formation of the proteins. My own humble efforts
in this field of chemical experimentation have been
crowned with good fortune and ultimate success. I have
pieced together the structural formulas of a large num-
ber of the luciferins, and have synthesized them at will
and in large quantities.

M ore than that, gentlemen, I have even improved
on nature, if I may be pardoned for uttering so
blasphemous a statement. I have effected certain minor,
though significant rearrangements, in the molecular con-
figuration of the protein, producing some brand new
luciferins that are found in none of the known luminous
organisms. Several of them have proved to possess
some remarkable properties. For instance, one has been
found suitable for injection into the blood stream of
other animals, and by an automatic oxidation in the tiny
capillaries at the surface of the body it gives the animal
a striking luminescence. I have even gone so far as to
develop a human luciferin, with which I have produced
some startling results. Perhaps you have already heard
of the ‘Human Firefly,’ and I think you will now have no
difficulty in fathoming this apparently mysterious phe-
nomenon.

“However, my object, throughout all of this gigantic

714

AMAZING STORIES

research, was fixed and definite. The ultimate aim of the
entire work was to devise a lamp in which luciferin is
burned continuously over and over again, without the aid
of any life processes. In one region luciferin is oxidized
to oxy-luciferin to yield a bright, pure-white lumi-
nescence; in another part the oxy-luciferin is reduced
to luciferin again. Such is the principle of the ideal
lamp to imitate and improve upon the work of the lowly
firefly. I am happy to inform you, gentlemen, that before
you stands the very embodiment of that principle — the
‘Hament Colite Luminor’l”

Throughout this lengthy recital the assembled audience
paid keen attention to the words of the scientist. Al-
though their attitude was unmistakably hostile, these
powerful moguls of the illumination world could not
help but be impressed by the inspiring magnetism of the
lecturer’s manner. To the technical experts in the group
much of Dr. Hament ’s preliminary explanation was of a
very familiar nature. To all those present the remark-
able significance of his own personal researches and final
triumph as he described them were sufficient to engender
a feeling of high respect. Yet, the general attitude of
animosity could not be downed in spite of that feeling.

While his chief was expounding the underlying prin-
ciples of cold light, young Graham had been occupied
in assembling on the table a curious contrivance that, in
general appearance, bore a striking resemblance to an
old-fashioned parlor kerosene lamp. Standing about
eighteen inches when lit, it consisted of a round barrel-
shaped body, supported on a metal tripod, and sur-
mounted by a large spherical globe of some creamy-white,
glass-like material. The body of this queer lamp had a
small hinged cover located off to one side and near the
top which ostensibly could be opened up to reveal the
internal mechanism. A number of slender brass tubes
projected out of the body at various points on its surface,
only to bend back and re-enter the apparatus at different
places. Several adjusting knobs and buttons were lo-
cated near the bottom, as was also a small meter-like de-
vise, similar to a steam pressure gauge on a boiler. The
model was equipped witb a tiny electric motor situated at
the very base of the body, and encompassed by the three
supporting legs. A flexible electric cord made contact
with an outlet conveniently situated in the baseboard
near the table. The entire device standing there in the
semi-circle of doubting and incredulous eyes, made a
rather startling appearance. Certainly it was like noth-
ing that any of those present had ever seen before.

The president of the International opened with the first
gun in the fiery barrage of doubt and aspersion. “What
you have so carefully outlined to us, my dear professor,”
said Joyce, insinuatingly, “may be very true — all of it
— but even before you turn on this pretty magic lantern
toy of yours, how do we know that there is nothing
crooked about it? Now I see you’re going to employ
tlie electric current for running your lamp. Isn’t that
exactly the underlying basis of modern illumination and
hasn’t it been since the day when Thomas A. Edison
demonstrated the first incandescent electric bulb?”

The old inventor smiled wearily and opened his mouth
for an explanation, when the second howitzer of the
bombardment let loose. A curt question regarding a
minor point was sprung by one individual,, and before
Dr. Hament could make satisfactory reply, the storm
broke in the form of a wave of quibbling and hair-
splitting queries and comments that left the old man
flushed and shaken. He leaned back limply against the

table, surveying the group about him with much the
same feeling, perhaps, as a lamb regarding the circle
of hungry wolves that is closing in about him.

“And besides,” blurted out Cobbett, the research chief,
“you are not telling us anything new. Our experimental
staffs have made an exhaustive investigation into the en-
tire problem of the firefly’s luminescence. Working in
absolute secrecy, of course, we have developed a score of
luciferins and determined their chemical and physical
properties. More than that, we have anticipated your al-
leged discovery of a method for oxidizing the photogenic
material outside of the living organism. In fact, our own
special lamp for effecting this continuous and reversible
operation is already being constructed and will soon be
demonstrated publicly. Therefore, Dr. Hament, with all
due regard for your wonderful discoveries, I am afraid
that you are a little too late. Still, we shall be pleased to
have you show us how your device operates. It surely
can do no harm for us to witness a demonstration.”

T he inventor had now regained his former com-
posure and equanimity. A smile of mingled pity
and scorn flitted across his lined features.

“Gentlemen,” he said simply, “I must confess that I
never anticipated this hostile attitude on the part of a
so-called democratic and enlightened group, such as you
profess to be. My invention is my own and I take mod-
est pride in knowing that I am the first and only living
man today who has successfully duplicated biolumin-
escence on a practical scale, notwithstanding your ex-
travagant claims to priority. I realize all too well the
immense upheaval in the realm of illuniination all over
the world if my principle of cold light were to be adopted
universally. The motive for your insolent antagonism is
therefore rather too obvious. I reasoned, nevertheless,
that my invention could best be exploited and put at the
disposal of mankind by a great organization like your
own, controlling as it does the entire field of incandescent
illumination all over the world.

“However,” he added with a significant shrug of his
shoulders, turning to his assistant, “I fear we have been
mistaken, Walter. You may dismantle the ‘Luminor,’
and we shall make haste to leave the premises imme-
diately.”

Then turning to the others, he announced tersely:
“Whenever you men decide that you would desire a
demonstration of my device, I shall be pleased to accede,
under conditions of my own choice. These conditions
are that the test shall be made in the presence of a special
committee, consisting of your President, your Chairman
of the Board of Directors and your Chief of Research
representing your company, three scientists whom I shall
pick and three impartial outsiders, qualified to pass on the
merits of my ‘Luminor.’ This committee will sit as a
jury to determine the worth of the device. If I do not
hear from you in the course of the next twenty-four
hours I shall assume that you are not interested, and
shall commence to take steps toward the proper devel-
opment of my lamp. I refuse to be brow-l)eaten or in-
timidated, because I have a boundless faith in my inven-
tion and its possibilities. And I assure you that I shall
have no difficulty in procuring the requisite financial
backing to exploit it independently. And one more point,
before I’m through. I warn you that the popular sym-
pathy will be entirely in my favor in this controversy.
The public has been learning more and more about the
subject of luminescence in the last few months. They

COLD LIGHT

715

have been awakened lo its vast potentialities principally
by my spectacular exploits. And so I am safe in pre-
dicting that, when the truth of this whole episode becomes
known, there will be such a burst of revulsion against
your autocratic blackmailing practices, that you will be
swept into financial and social oblivion by an enraged
people. With all your tremendous wealth and your lim-
itless resources, you can no more hold back the triumphant
march of progress and enlightenment and human ad-
vancement than could King Canute of ancient days keep
back the surging waves of the ocean by his haughty com-
mand. In your narrow and bigoted policy of obstruction
you stand for the same unprogressive, reactionary spirit
that is exemplified in the old-time opposition against the
developments of the machine age, against the steamship,
the locomotive, the telegraph, telephone and countless
other steps in the advance of human knowledge, human
betterment, and civilization itself.”

With this parting shot. Dr. Hament, cheeks flushed
and eyes blazing, turned to Graham, who had completed
the repacking of the lamp and its accessories and nodded
toward the door.

“Hold on a minute, Hament,” spoke up Joyce, “in the
event that we find your invention suited to our needs,
and capable of being fitted into our own plans of develop-
ment, what consideration would you regard as a sum
sufficient to compensate you for your work and trouble ?”

“One million dollars!” came the. answer, like a rifle
shot — “cash or certified check!” and the door slammed,
blotting out a chorus of derisive and uproarous laughter
from within.

CHAPTER IV
“Hament’s Hoax”

SECRET OF “COLD LIGHT’’ REVEALED

OBSCURE SCIENTIST DEVELOPS MARVELOUS
LAMP ON PRINCIPLE OF FIREFLY-
DETAILS CLOSELY GUARDED
New York, Sept. 20. — Advices from a well-authenti-
cated source reveal that the executives and technical
directors of the International Illumination Corporation
have been conducting negotiations with an unknown in-
ventor who has demonstrated the solution of the in-
triguing problem of “cold light.” According to reliable
information, this scientist, a certain Dr. Arthur Hament,
with the aid only of a youthful assistant, and working
diligently and unobtrusively for years, has perfected a
“cold light” lamp, whose efficiency of energy conversion
and illumination is very nearly 100 per cent.

Specific details as to the mechanism of this new lamp
are lacking, and at the local offices of the Corporation
there is a strange_ air of mystery and reticence. None
of the higher officials are willing to answer questions, in-
sisting that important announcements will be forthcoming
shortly. It is generally conceded by many noted men of
science who have been questioned on the subject that,
should the final facts bear out the current rumors and
rejwrts, then the illumination industry is due for a revo-
lutionary upheaval even more phenomenal than that pro-
duced by the advent of the incandescent electric light.

It is the belief yf many vvho are in close touch with
the matter that this obscure inventor, Hament, might be
able to throw some sigfnificant light upon the mystifying
“Human Rrefly” occurrences that so thoroughly terror-
ized certain parts of the state several months ago.

News items similar to the above were featured in the
press all over the country. Reporters scurried about
energetically, trying to rustle up some reliable informa-
tion on the revolutionary invention. They pored over
every scientific directory and every “Who’s Who in
Science” extant, but found nothing that would even hint

at the identity or domicile of the mysterious Dr. Arthur
Hament. The every-day individual read the reports
eagerly, and discussed the subject of cold light enthusi-
astically, with everyone he happened to meet. The topic
became a household by-word throughout the length of the
land. In the space of a few days tbe contagious approba-
tion had spread over the entire civilized world. Regard-
ing the matter as already an established fact humanity, as
with one voice, sent up a united chorus of acclaim for the
remarkable invention, and its still more remarkable in-
ventor. The offices of the International in all the prin-
cipal capitals of the world were besieged by rabid in-
quirers, all hungry for some meager scrap of information,
some inkling as to the nature of the new and wonderful
source of illumination. All such queries were met with
polite but firm statements that everything would be re-
vealed in due time.

T O this very day Dr. Hament cannot explain how the
mysterious burglary was accomplished. With both
Graham and himself asleep on the lower floor of their
cottage, the nocturnal intruders must have worked with
feline stealthiness to force a kitchen window in the rear,
pass through into their bedroom, then beyond into the
hallway and up the creaking stairway to the laboratory
on the second floor. The only explanation that appeared
at all feasible was that the slumbering pair were drugged
in their sleep, and that the marauders were then able to
work with great leisure and thoroughness. This theory
seems to be borne out by the slight feeling of nausea and
dizziness with which they struggled into wakefulness,
and the faint sweetish odor that pervaded their room.
Whatever means the intruders had employed to effect an
entry into the laboratory above, their plundering was cer-
tainly accomplished with a mathematical and meticulous
attention to details. Nothing appeared to have been
overlooked. A large quantity of assorted types of luci-
ferin, carefully bottled and labeled, were taken, as was
also a considerable amount of rare chemicals that were
employed in the synthesis of these photogenic substances.
In addition, a complete model of the “Colite Luminor”
was removed, together with two others that had been
partly dismantled. The burglars did not overlook a
half dozen notebooks containing plans and specifications
of the new lamp, as well as a vast collection of mathe-
matical and chemical data, formulas and equations, ex-
perimental directions and notes, together with observa-
tions and measurements of a highly intricate nature.
Curiously enough, a large amount of platinum, con-
sisting of foil, crucibles and wire was not molested, like-
wise a sizable quantity of gold and silver. It was very
evident that the thieves knew just what they wanted, and
wasted no time in getting it. In its thoroughgoing com-
pleteness, the job was one that would gladden the heart
of a veteran second-story man. Dr. Hament made a
careful inventory of the losses, checked and rechecked
the items missing, and then smiled in a very knowing
manner to Graham. The burglary was not reported to
the police, and to all outward appearances nothing of any
startling nature had occurred.

* * jK * * ♦

T he opening night of the stupendous International Il-
lumination Exposition was heralded by a veritable
blaze of glory. The colossal Exposition Hall in New
York was a galaxy of color and dazzling brilliance. Every

716

AMAZING STORIES

lighting device used in modern days was on exhibition.
Myriads of lamps, of all shapes and sizes, and made for
a thousand varied uses, illuminated the interior of the
vast hall with a blinding intensity that rivaled the sun
in splendor. One complete wing of the exposition palace
was given over to an exhibition depicting the progress
in the science and art of illumination from the earliest
beginnings of fire in recorded history, down to the huge
and brilliant incandescent lamps of the latest design.
Everywhere there blinked advertising displays and devices
that demonstrated the highest type of resourcefulness and
inventive genius. Suspended from the huge dome-shaped
ceiling hung a number of tremendous lighting fixtures
of almost blinding incandescence. They shed a penetra-
ting blue-white illumination over the entire ejAibition
floor below, and completed the grand picture of one mag-
nificent blaze of light.

T housands poured through all the entrances at
the moment of opening, eager to bathe in the incan-
descent brilliance, and to inspect and marvel at the latest
advances in the field of illumination. But much more
anxious was each spectator to witness the long-heralded
“cold light” demonstration. Every notice, every news-
paper advertisement, every printed word describing the
forthcoming Exposition had promised some startling
revelations in connection with the new invention. A
“cold light” exhibition of great import was scheduled for
the opening night, and certain news of a highly sensa-
tional character was to be divulged.

There was much hunting and inquiring for the loca-
tion of the exhibit of major attraction, but to the hun-
dreds of questions fired at the guides and attendants of
the hall there was one single, monotonous reply: “Wait
and see.” It was apparent that the exposition officials
were planning to spring the event in the nature of a huge
surprise.

At the very height of the hubbub and shuffling of the
countless hundreds' of visitors ijarading from booth to
booth in slow streams, there suddenly burst forth, as if
from nowhere, a deep stentorian voice :

“Ladies and gentlemen! ”

The electric public address system was booming forth
a message and the assembled multitude ceased their
meandering and conversing to crane their necks upward.
A diminutive balcony circled the great enclosure, and at
the railing stood a man, talking into a microphone. In
front of him a smalt wooden platform extended out be-
yond the railing, supported by a bracket from below. A
queer device rested on it, a contrivance that in general
appearance bore a striking resemblance to a parlor kero-
sene lamp. Supported on a metal tripod, it consisted of
a barrel-shaped body surmounted by a large spherical
globe of some creamy-white, glass-like material. The
entire apparatus stood about eighteen inches high. Ap-
parently nobody among that entire mass of surging
humanity had taken the pains to look up and observe
this queer device, until the moment when the attention
of the multitude was drawn to the balcony by the opening
words from the amplifying horns. Nor had anyone
until this instant taken notice of a small painted placard
hanging right below the wooden platform, and bearing
the simple legend :

HAMENT’S

HOAX

The vast assemblage became silent and motionless.

and thousands of eager and expectant eyes focused aloft
on the single figure at the microphone, and the mys-
terious contrivance in front of him. Here was the long-
awaited demonstration and announcement and every ear
strained to catch the momentous message.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker’s words came
blaring from the concealed horns, “the officials of the
International Illumination Corporation ask that you bear
with them in a great, almost tragic disappointment. I re-
alize that you came here with great anticipation of ob-
serving the much-discussed ‘cold light’ lamp. In our
negotiations with the inventor, we of the International
were equally anxious to see a really practical solution of
this great problem. The very foundation of our organi-
zation has always been the fostering and developing of all
things that tend to better the illumination art. We must
now confess a profound disillusionment. Our technical
staffs have made a thorough and exhaustive investiga-
tion into the device submitted by this inventor. Dr.
Hament. They find that his claims of having perfected
a practical ‘cold light’ lamp are founded on no truth
whatsoever. Having created a tremendous wave of pop-
ular interest in his alleged illumination device, he is now
found to be unable to substantiate his extravagant asser-
tions. Our belief is that this man is nothing more than
a clever publicity seeker, intending to capitalize in some
shady fashion, on the immense advertising which this
situation has given him.

“Our capable research department has been struggling
with the real problem of ‘cold light’ for many years, and
the unanimous opinion of our experts now is that it can
never be solved from the practical and commercial stand-
point. They admit that the luminescence of various in-
sects and other species of living organisms is an inter-
esting scientific phenomenon, but there is where the
matter ends. Certain definite and apparently permanent
difficulties stand in the way of making this form of
illumination available for the use of mankind. Therefore,
my dear friends assembled here tonight, we take this op-
portunity of affirming our steadfast convictions that the
science and art of lighting, as exemplified in the thous-
ands of exhibits all about you here have reached their
acme of perfection. Although we admit that it possesses
certain limitations, the fundamental principle of incan-
descence, the principle first developed to a practical point
by Edison, still stands sound and supreme.”

T he speaker stopped, and a hum as from a thousand
beehives rolled up from the densely packed crowds
below. People whispered to each other excitedly. Stran-
ger turned to stranger to discuss this sensational an-
nouncement. It was clear that the agitated'gathering had
been tremendously affected by tbe startling revelation.

A hush fell upon the multitude as he continued :

“Our technical experts have here prepared for your
benefit what might be termed a ‘negative demonstra-
tion.’ On this platform before me is an exact replica
of the inventor’s ‘Oolite Luminor’ as he has christened it.
It is faithful in every detail. In its oxidation chamber
here is contained a quantity of luciferin compound, a
substance which is analagous to the ‘oil’ that is ‘burned’
in the luminous organ of the firefly. This photogenic
material is the product of our own research laboratorj%
and is a marvelous example of synthetic chemical skill.
It is identical with the luciferin that the inventor claims
to have developed.

COLD LIGHT

717

“With a desire to be perfectly fair in our treatment
of this man and his alleged invention, we have arranged a
bona fide demonstration of the device. We are confident
that this test will serve to show you all how futile is the
dream of commercially feasible ‘cold light’ illumination,
and by contrast to impress even more vividly on you the
essential strength and dependability of our modern in-
candescent light.”

The speaker took a step back and signaled to some un-
seen person behind him. One by one the huge globes
suspended from the ceiling were dimmed and finally
plunged into darkness. On all sides lights went out.
Flashing advertising signs ceased their luminous cavort-
ing and were extinguished. Mercury-vapor lamps, glar-
ing ultra-violet generators and tiny flashlight bulbs were
turned off as if by magic, and slowly the vast hall was
shrouded in darkness, a darkness that appeared infinitely
more profound by contrast with the previous blinding
illumination. Only the distant exit-lights pierced the
gloom with feeble rays of red light, and served to throw
a fantastic, almost supernatural aspect about the scene.
The hushed crowds waited in awed anticipation, yet not
knowing what to expect. Those who were standing
directly below the tiny platform with the strange lamp
perched on it, could barely make out the shadowy form
of the announcer manipulating some adjusting device on
the apparatus.

“The light of the firefly,” continued the electrical voice,
“depends on the oxidation of its luciferin. To imitate
this insect I am now passing a stream of pure oxygen
through a special mixture of our synthetic luciferin —
and lo!” — with a merry laugh that rolled and re-echoed
through the vast hall — "nothing happens!"

For the space of a minute or two one could have
heard the proverbial pin drop. No one moved, no one
breathed — all eyes were glued to the globe of the strange
contrivance, just dimly discernible by its hazy outline.
The darkness continued, stygian and impenetrable, and
the unearthly silence was almost terrifying. Suddenly a
hysterical shriek pierced the gloom from the far corner
of the hall. A woman clutched her neighbor’s arm con-
vulsively and pointed aloft with horror in her eyes. A
thousand faces turned to follow and a thousand throats
uttered a gasp that swept through the building like the
sighing of the wind.

“The Firefly! — The Human Firefly!” rose the cry,
. passing from lip to lip, and swelling into a mighty chorus
ascending to the vaulted dome above.

In the far corner of the narrow balcony, directly over
the main entrance to the exposition floor, there appeared
a luminous face, glowing brightly in the inky darkness.
Visible at first as only a mere speck of light at that ex-
treme distance, it was seen to move rapidly just above
the edge of the stone balustrade, approaching the spot
where the strange lamp was on exhibition. At last it was
directly behind the tiny platform and in clear view of
the horrified thousands below. A luminous hand, knarled
and thin, waved the astonished announcer away from
the microphone, and the beaming and kindly countenance
of Dr. Hament faced the awed multitude below. Panting
from the exertion, the old scientist, for the space of sev-
eral minutes, could no more than just stand there,
clutching the railing with his glowing fingers and survey-
ing the dim sea of heads below. Nobody stirred. The
thrilling aspect of a brightly luminous face, high up on
the tiny balcony, punctuating the vast ocean of gloom
with a brilliant luminescence, was sufficient to strike

boundless amazement, if not terror into the hearts of
the spectators.

“My friends !” came the kindly voice of the luminous
man, and the reverberating words from the amplifying
horns broke the magic spell that appeared to have been
cast over the entire assemblage.

“My friends, you will pardon me, I hope, for thus
startling you by my strange appearance, just as I know
you will pardon my previous bizarre visitations among
you in this unconventional manner. Yes, my good peo-
ple, the ‘Human Firefly’ stands before you, as does also
the inventor of the ‘Hament Colite Luminor,* In the
face of the scathing accusations and insulting references
to which you have just listened, it is no more than fair
that I present myself here and offer a defence. The
worthy representative of the International has been good
enough to explain to you in detail the story of my in-
vention. He has informed you of the remarkable work
of their chemists and research workers in synthesizing
the firefly’s luminous principle that is known as luciferin.
Unfortunately, he has neglected to give you any informa-
tion on some other very vital matters. For some strange
reason, he failed to mention the shrewd business acumen
of the International executives in attempting to brow-
beat and blackmail me for the sake of suppressing my
invention. He completely forgot to tell you of how
skilfully the hired burglars of his company broke into
my laboratory, and tried to steal my most intimate secrets
for the construction and manipulation of the ‘Colite
Luminor.’ ”

A buzz of astonishment rose from the crowd. A
luminous hand stroked the barrel-like body of the
model on the platform, and a luminous cheek brushed
caressingly against the glassy globe that surmounted it.

“There is one other thing,” continued Dr. Hament,
“which the spokesman of this unscrupulous clique has
failed to tell you, not so much from actual design as from
sheer ignorance. I suspected it from the start, and now my
suspicions are completely confirmed. This device, stand-
ing here now before your very eyes, has been proved
an apparent failure. It doesn’t work, and I feel safe in
stating that it never will work — not in a thousand years
— ^at least in the form in which it now exists. These
talented scientists, these skilful investigators in the lab-
oratories of the corporation have, if we are to believe
their spokesman, performed some sensational feats of
chemical synthesis. They have forced nature to reveal
the secret of the firefly and the chemical character of
the luciferin. But in their boundless zeal they have over-
looked a point — one single detail — that might have been
discovered with ease by a high school student of chem-
istry and physiology.

“Let me give you an elementary idea regarding the
nature of this missing point. A large number of chemi-
cal reactions are not brought about, or at most proceed
with infinite slowness, unless a certain substance is pres-
ent to help the reaction along. These chemical ma-
terials that assist in effecting processes, without them-
selves being in any manner changed, are known as cata-
lytic agents, or catalysts. You have in your body dozens
of such substances, that go by the name of enzymes,
whose function is to assist the various chemical changes
going on in your system. For example, when you chew
bread, a special catalyst in your saliva mixes with it and
slowly converts the starch into glucose sugar. Similarly,
in the entire process of digestion going on in your stom-

718

AMAZING STORIES

ach and intestines, certain enzymes assist in the change
from insoluble nutrients to soluble products that may
be absorbed in the blood stream.

“The firefly, as do all other luminous organisms, pos-
sesses the remarkable substance, called luciferin, which
combines with the oxygen of the air in the presence of
water, to produce its luminescence. However, some-
thing more than luciferin, oxygen and water are neces-
sary, and this is what the enlightened scientists of the
International Illumination Corporation have apparently
overlooked. The luminous organism manufactures also
a tiny bit of another substance, which is of vital necessity
in the production of luminescence. It is the catalyst for
this chemical reaction, and its name is lucif erase. It is
not consumed in the process, but in some mysterious
manner, it brings about the oxidation reaction. Without
it the oxidation of luciferin takes place so slowly that
there is no production of light.

“The skilful burglars, hired by the company to raid
my workshop, managed to obtain everything of value in
the duplication of my work, with the sole exception of
the lucif erase. My notes on the preparation of this
chemical compound, together with some samples that
were stored with these notes, were unfortunately — or
shall I say fortunately — overlooked. The remarkable re-
search brains in the employ of the company were unable
to grasp the idea that something essential was lacking in
their attempted production of the firefly’s ‘cold light.’
They went right ahead, set up my model lamp, charged
it with the necessary luciferin and water, and passed
oxygen through the mixture. Nothing happened, for
the simple reason that nothing cottld happen. And on the
basis of these half-baked results, they shout to the world
that my invention is a hoax, that I am nothing but a
shrewd publicity seeker, and that the entire problem of
commercial ‘cold light’ is an impossibility and a fraud.

“My friends, I came to this hall prepared to turn this
little ‘negative demonstration’ into one that is undeniably
‘positive.’ I am grateful to the good people of the In-
ternational Illumination Corporation for preparing the
stage for me in so dramatic a fashion. I could not have
wished for a better opportunity to present to the world
the first practical ‘cold light’ lamp !”

LUMINOUS hand reached into an invisible pocket

and emerged clutching a small glass vial. Another
glowing hand fumbled with the clamp that fastened the
tiny cover near the top of the barrel-like body of the
lamp. With trembling fingers the old inventor emptied
the contents of the tube into the opening. He fumbled
in the dark recesses under the device, adjusting a switch
here, operating a control there. A low whining sound
issued from the innermost anatomy of the lamp, a sound
resembling the starting of a miniature vacuum cleaner.
The result was amazing as it was sudden. The dull glass-
like globe that perched on top of the queer mechanism be-
gan to glow with a pale greenish phosphorescence. Only
a brief second or two did this glow last. Then like a
flash the globe burst into a blaze of such magnificent
brilliance as to produce a momentary blindness in all.
The huge exposition hall, shrouded in a thick, almost
ponderable darkness just a moment ago, was now flooded
by a penetrating deluge of light reaching into the re-
motest corner of the building. Dr. Hament, aware though
he was of what to expect, could not help but shrink back
a step- or two, and shield his eyes. In the dazzling

The ]

light his previously luminescent features were now paled
into the sickliest kind of glow. The several men grouped
on the balcony in the immediate vicinity of the lamp, in-
cluding the former announcer, were almost thrown off
their feet by the overpowering brilliance of the illumina-
tion, and clapped their hands to their faces to shut out
the strong rays of light. Below, the huge multitude
was electrified by the dazzling demonstration. Eyes
blinked and faces turned away from the direct glare of
the Luminor.

The effect was truly remarkable, almost supernatural.
There stood a lamp, ridiculously toy-like in appearance,
compared to the mammoth globes, now darkened, hang-
ing from the ceiling. And yet this puny contrivance
was throwing off a light so powerful that the most dis-
tant nook and corner of the exposition floor was bathed
in a brilliance rivaling the noonday sun. By comparison,
the previous incandescent blaze of thousands of lighting
devices was as feeble as the rays from a candle flame.

For the space of a few tense moments the great throng
stood petrified by the sheer magnitude of the mighty
spectacle. Then, as though by the breaking of a magic
charm, the assemblage was galvanized into sound and
action. A wild cheer burst forth, a mighty yell that
crashed to the roof and reverberated like a thousand
Niagaras suddenly released. Bedlam broke loose over
the huge exposition floor. Arms waved wildly like a
field of wheat in a windstorm. Waves of humanity
swayed and surged below, as those in the more distant
corners attempted to get closer. A fever heat of excite-
ment suffused the entire multitude, and above all there
clashed and echoed the throaty cheers of appreciating
thousands. So spontaneous and soul-stirring a demon-
stration had never been witnessed even in the memory
of the oldest spectator present. There was no iota of
doubt regarding the verdict of the public as to the aged
scientist’s marvelous invention. Dr. Hament, almost
overcome by the magnificent demonstration of the crowd,
smiled weakly and waved a sign of appreciation and
gratitude. As one final convincing gesture, he placed
both hands on the dazzling globe, and brought his face
down so that his cheek rubbed caressingly on the glassy
surface. Then, he held forth his hands to the people be-
low and his smiling lips formed the single inarticulate
word: “Cold!” Wave upon wave of unbridled cheer-
ing rolled from a thousand throats and splashed back
from walls and ceiling in a mighty pandemonium of noise.

’’ I 'HE original Luminor is still preserved as a relic and
memento of priceless value in the New York office
of the Universal Colite Corporation. No longer in use
now, but carefully protected in a glass case, it stands
as a fitting symbol to mark man’s conquest in the roman-
tic struggle to achieve practicable “cold light.” Dr.
Hament, now grown feeble, has relinquished the reins
of the organization which he fostered to younger hands
and nimbler brains. Walter Graham, the leading figure
now in the world-wide Colite enterprise, is at the head
of a huge development that has sent the blessings and
conveniences and economies of the new source of illumi-
nation to all corners of the civilized globe. But the old
inventor never tires of narrating to any interested person
who desires to listen, the thrilling story of his invention,
the insidious duplicity of the International Illumination
bunch, and the dramatic and brilliant climax of Colite
luminescence which he enacted at the Exposition.

719

The Brain Accelerat*

By Dr. Daniel Dressier

{Continued from page 705)

thing of the uneasiness of the past hours still on my
mind, I began to share his sense of agitation, and seizing
my bag, led the way to my car.

Murphy became more unsettled still, as we bounced
and rattled over the not too smooth road leading toward
the house, but he volunteered only one remark:

“He’s been fooling with that light and those dogs again
and just before he gave me the note I think he turned the
thing on himself.”

Engrossed by the task of steering the car at a speed
much beyond its usual sedate pace, I made no reply and
Murphy subsided.

The road south of Bolton leads straight for about
a mile until the foot of the hill on which the house stood.
From that place the Colonel’s residence was in view. I
glanced at it again from time to time, until I realized
the absurdity of trying to fathom the activities within
from its exterior. Murphy’s foreboding had communi-
cated itself to me and, coupled with my own uneasiness,
it produced an urge to get to the Colonel that made me
send the car along at a spanking rate.

At the foot of the hill there is a curve in the road and
for the space of perhaps a hundred yards it leads through
a thick copse of woods. The track is narrow and rough
and any measure of speed is impossible. It was just as
we passed through the center of this space that I heard
a muffled explosion aliead and when we emerged from
the woods, I saw the Colonel’s house ablaze.

We speeded up the hill, but by the time we reached the
gate, smoke and flames were pouring from the roof and
from every window, while the heat prevented any close
approach to the house wall. It needed no fireman’s
knowledge to realize that the house was doomed. I
stopped at what seemed a safe distance and watched.
Murphy leaped from the car and dashed for the library
door. I shouted to him and then followed, for it was
obvious self-destruction to attempt to approach the house,
much more to enter it as he seemed bent upon doing.
Within a hundred feet of the door the heat was intense ;
smoke billowed forth and sparks and burning fragments
showered down, but Murphy ignored them and somehow
made the door. He opened it and dashed within and, as
I watched, the roof and then the wall tumbled down,
burying him and lending fresh impetus to tlie blaze.

I returned to my car and met the first of the volunteer
fire department from the village. They made a desultory
attempt to throw water upon the fire but it was clearly
futile. The blaze grew higher as wall after wall tumbled
down and then subsided gradually until there was left
only a heap of glowing embers with a pile of fused glass
and tangled machinery where the laboratory had been.

T he next day the mass had cooled enough to enable
identification of two burned remnants of bodies,
close together below where I knew the library table to
have been. No relatives came forward to claim them and
I saw to their internment in the local cemetery.

An investigation by the probate court found no record
whatever of the Colonel’s affairs. The house had been

leased from some one in the city and the owners knew
only that the Colonel had rented it in person, paying cash
once a year and giving no information about himself.

The Colonel and Murphy were dead. They dropped
out of existence in a spectacular way, and yet e.xcept for
a few details of his early life, there was little of interest
to be elicited about them.

In the confusion of attending to the burial and at the
same time to practice, and with a real feeling of grief at
the tragic death of someone I had learned to like, it was
more than a week before my mind reverted to the subject
of the Colonel’s experiments. Then I thought of his
letter, which had lain unopened in my pocket since Mur-
phy handed it to me. It was brief and toward the end
gave evidence of either failing strength or weakening
mind, for the words were scrawled and blurred until they
were barely legible. I append it herewith :

“My dear Doctor :

“We were quite right regarding the electrical
nature of the ray. I have proved that by the simple
old electroscope test. And we were further right '
in that it will accelerate brain function in a human.

/ have tried it upon myself and felt the immense in-
crease in mental power which it engenders. But Doc-
tor, we both overlooked one vital point. Increased
function means increased metabolism and conse-
quently increased wear upon the brain mechanism.
That is the reason we, as well as the dog, were
fatigued. His lower grade nervous system with-
stood it better than ours, even though we experienced
only reflected rays, whereas he received the direct
rays. Today when I trained it upon myself, I felt
for a time the invigorating effect and now I am real-
izing the aftermath of an overworked brain. I
can write no more until I rest.” G.

I have thought many hours over the whole affair, the
experiment and the Colonel’s last words.

Did he have hold of a principle and a means of apply-
ing it, as yet unknown to science? Was his tragic end
an accident or a deliberate removal of himself and his
apparatus when he felt that he had created a Franken-
stein monster? It seems unlikely that any house should
burn so fiercely and completely in so short a time, unless
some incendiary agent were employed, and yet, such a
way out was hardly the one such a man would take.

Were his apparatus and his experiments only the re-
sult of a diseased mind that found delight in mystifying
me, a man of science? Did it carry the taint of a fixed
idea as his insistence upon an electrical basis for the
phenomenon, in the face of the obviously greater signifi-
cance of the remainder of the experiment, might indicate?

I do not know. I do know that I saw a definitely
dead dog apparently return to life and saw that dog
perfonn mental feats beyond the power of average dog
intelligence. I may have been the victim of a carefully
planned illusion and the Colonel’s end fortuitous, but
again I say, I cannot be sure.

The End.

The yjndersea

By L. Taylor Hansen

'Author of ‘What the Sodium Lines Revealed”

Acknowledgments to Harold K. Palmer, Ph,D., C.E.

the ’60^s, Mr. A. E. Beach, then editor of the ^‘Scientific American,” who
'died many years ago, evolved the idea of a tube to go under the city streets,
cylindrical in cross-section and in which the car was to be driven by air pressure
applied directly in the tube behind it. The car was surrounded by a series of
brushes to rub against the metal tube, so as to make the joint airtight and avoid
the waste of air. Such a tube was actually put into Broadway for^ the" space of
about a block near the City Hall Square and was also exhibited at the Fairs of
the American Institute which was much patronized in those days of early and
more simple and less sophisticated New York. It is quite possible that such a
tube as is described by our author might be sufficiently improved, some time in
the future to be of practical value.

Illustrated by WESSO

I F my friend the engineer had not told me the
Tube was dangerous, I would not have bought
a ticket on that fatal night, and the world
would never have learned the story of the
Golden Cavern and the City of the Dead. Having
therefore, according to universal custom, first made
my report as -the sole survivor of the much-discussed
Undersea Tube disaster to the International Committee
for the Investigation of Disasters, I am now ready
to outline that story for the world. Naturally I am
aware of the many wild tales and rumors that have
been circulated ever since the accident, but I must ask
my readers to bear with me while I attempt to briefly
sketch, not only the tremendous difficulties to be over-
come by the engineers, but also the wind-propulsion
theory which was made use of in this undertaking; be-
cause it is only by understanding something of these
two phases of the Tube’s engineering problems that one
can understand the accident and its subsequent revela-
tions.

It will be recalled by those who have not allowed
their view of modem history to become too hazy, that
the close of the twentieth century saw a dream of the
engineering world at last realized — the completion of the
long-heralded undersea railroad. It will also be recalled
that the engineers in charge of this stupendous under-
taking were greatly encouraged by the signal success
of the first tube under the English Channel, joining
England and France by rail. However, it was from the

second tube across the Channel and the tube connecting
Montreal to New York, as well as the one connecting
New York to Chicago, that they obtained some of their
then radical ideas concerning the use of wind power for
propulsion. Therefore, before the Undersea Tube had
been completed, the engineers in charge had decided to
make use of the new method in the world’s longest tun-
nel, and upon that decision work was immediately com-
menced upon the blue-prints for the great air pumps that
were to rise at the two ends — Liverpool and New York.
However, I will touch upon the theory of wind-propul-
sion later and after the manner in which it was explained
to me.

It will be recalled that after great ceremonies, the
Tube was begpm simultaneously at the two terminating
cities and proceeded through solid rock — low enough
below the ocean floor to overcome the terrible pressure
of the body of water over it, and yet close enough to
the sea to overcome the intensity of subterranean heat.
Needless to say, it was an extremely hazardous under-
taking, despite the very careful surveys that had been
made, for the little parties of workmen could never tell
when they would strike a crack or an unexpected crevice
that would let down upon them with a terrible rush, the
waters of the Atlantic. But hazard is adventure, and
as the two little groups of laborers dug toward each
other, the eyes of the press followed them with more
persistent interest than it has ever followed the daily
toil of any man or group of men, either before or since.

720

Then they found the jewele'd
casket, through whose glass top
they peered curiously down upon
the white body of a beautiful
woman

O NCE the world was startled by the “extree-e — ” an-
nouncing that the English group had broken into
an extinct volcano, whose upper end had apparently
been sealed ages before, for it contained not water but
air — curiously close and choking perhaps, but at least it
was not the watery deluge of death. And then came the
great discovery. No one who lived through that time
will forget the thrill that quickened the pulse of man-
kind when the American group digging through a seam
of old lava under what scientists call the “ancient ridge,”
broke into a sealed cavern which gleamed in the probing
flashlights of the workers like the scintillating points of
a thousand diamonds. But when they found the jeweled
casket, through whose glass top they peered curiously
down upon the white body of a beautiful woman, partly
draped in the ripples of her heavy, red hair, the world
gasped and wondered. As every school child knows,
the casket was opened by curious scientists, who flocked
into the tube from the length of the world, but at the
first exposure to the air, the strange liquid that had pro-

tected the body vanished, leaving in the casket not the
white figure, but only a crumbling mass of grey dust.
But the questions that the finding of the cave had raised
remained unanswered.

Who was this woman? How did she get into the
sealed cavern? If she had been the court favorite of
that mythical kingdom, now sunk beneath the waves, and
had been disposed of in court intrigue, why would her
murderers have buried her in such a casket? How had
she been killed ? An unknown poison ? Perhaps she had
been a favorite slave of the monarch. This view gained

721

722

AMAZING STORIES

many converts among the archaeologists who argued that
from all the evidence we have available, the race carry-
ing the Iberian or Proto-Egyptian culture, long thought
to have been the true refugees from sinking Atlantis,
were a slight dark-haired race. Therefore this woman
must have been a captive. Geologists, analyzing the
lava, announced that it had hardened in air and not in
water, while anthropologists classed the skull of the
woman as essentially more modern than either the Nean-
derthal or Cro-Magnon types. But the engineers,
secretly fuming at the delay, finally managed to fill up
the cave and press on with their drills.

Then following the arguments that still flourished in
the press, came a tiny little news article and the first
message to carry concern to the hearts of the engineers.
The sea had begun to trickle in through one slight crack.
Perhaps it was only because the crevice was located on
the English side of the now famous “ancient ridge” that
the article brought fortli any notice at all. But for the

send a man. Why they did not use radio-vision', I do nOl
care to state, as this is my company’s business.

Therefore upon entering my apartment, I was in the
midst of packing when the television phone called me.
The jovial features of “Dutch” Higgins, my one-time
college room-mate and now one of the much-maligned
engineers of the Undersea Tube, smiled back at me from
the disk.

“Where are you? I thought we had a sort of dinner
engagement at my apartment. Bob.”

“By gollies I forgot, Dutch. I’ll be right over — Before
it gets cold.”

Then immediately I turned the knob to the Municipal
Aerial-car yards, and ordered my motor, as I grabbed
my hat and hurried to the roof. In due time, of course,
I sprang the big surprise of the evening, adding ;

“And, of course, I’m going by the Tube. I feel sort
of a half-partnership in it because you were one of the
designers.”

engineers it meant the first warning of possibly ultimate
disaster. They could not seal the crack, and pumps
were brought into play. However, as a month wore on,
the crack did not appear to widen to any material extent
and the danger cry of a few pessimists was forgotten.

Finally, it will be remembered, that sounders listening
in the rocks heard the drillers of the other party, and
then with wild enthusiasm the work was pushed on to
completion. The long Tube had been dug. Now it
only remained for the sides at the junction to be en-
larged and encased with cast iron, while the work of
setting up the great machines designed to drive the pellet
trains through, was also pushed on to its ultimate end.
Man had essayed the greatest feat of engineering ever
undertaken in the history of the planet, and had won.
A period of wild celebration greeted the first human be-
ings to cross each direction below the sea.

Did the volume of water increase that was carried
daily out of the Tube and dumped from the two stations?
If it did, the incident was ignored by the press. Instead,
the fact that some “cranks” persisted in calling man’s
latest toy unsafe, only attracted more travel. The Under-
sea Tube functioned on regular schedule for three years,
became the usual method of ocean transit, and in a word,
was taken for granted by the public.

T his was the state of matters, when on the fourth
of March last, our textile company ordered me to
France to straighten out some orders with the France
house, the situation being such that they preferred to

Coming upon them by night . . . they looked like a
gigantie, shiny worm, of strange shape, through whose
tiny port holes .. .in the sides, glowed its luminous vitals

A curious half-pained look crossed his face. We had
finished our meal, and were smoking with pushed-back
chairs. He finished filling his pipe, with a scowl on his
forehead.

“Well? Why don’t you say something? Thought
you’d be — well sort of pleased.”

He struck his automatic lighter and drew in a long
puff of smoke before answering.

“Wish you’d take another route. Bob.”

“Take another route?”

“Yes. If you want it straight, the Tube is not safe.”

“You are joking.”

But as I looked into his cold, thoughtful blue eyes, I
knew he had never been more serious.

“I wish that you would go by the Trans-Atlantic Air
Liners. They are just as fast.”

“But you used to be so enthusiastic about the Tube,
Dutch! Why I remember when it was being drilled
that you would call me up at all kinds of wild hours to
tell me the latest bits of news.”

He nodded slowly.

“Yes, that was in the days before the crack.”

“Yet you expected to take care of possible leaks, you
know,” I countered.

“But this crack opened after the tunnel had been dug
past it, and lately it has opened still more.”

THE UNDERSEA TUBE

723

"Are the other engineers alarmed?”

"No. We are easily taking care of the extra water
and again the opening seems to remain at a stationary
width as it did for the past three years. But we cannot
caulk it.

"Are you going to publish these views?”

"No. I made out a minority report. I can do nO
more.”

"Dutch, you are becoming over-cautioiis. First sign
of old age.”

"Perhaps,” with the old smile.

"But after all it is now more than three years since
we have had a talk on the Tube. After it began to
function as well as the Air-Express you sort of lost
interest in it.”

"And the world did too.”

"Certainly — but the public ever was a fickle mistress.
Who said that before me?”

He laughed and blew out a long puff of smoke.

"Everyone, Bob.”

"But as to the Tube, if I cross under the sea, I would
want to be as well informed on the road as I was three
years ago. fNow in the mean time, you have dropped
interest in the long tunnel while I have become more
interested in textiles — with the result that I have for-
gotten all that I ever did know — which compared to your
grasp of the details, was little enough.”

B ut his face showed none of the old-time animation
on the subject. What a different man, I mused
to myself, from that enthusiastic engineering student
that I used to come upon dreaming over his blue-prints.
He was considered "half -cracked” in those days when he
would enthuse over his undersea railroad, but his ani-
mated face was lit with inspiration. Now the light was
gone. His eyes were cold — lifeless.

"Well Dutch, how about it? Aren’t you going to make
me that brief little sketch of the length plan and cross-
section of the Tube? I remember your sketch of it in
college, and it tends to confuse me with the real changes
that were made necessary when the wind-propulsion
method was adopted.”

“All right, old timer. You remember that the Tube
was widened at the sides?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That was in order that we could make two circular
tubes side by side — one going each way.”

"I had forgotten that they were circular.”

“That is because of the pressure. A circle presents
the best resistance,” and picking an odd envelope from
his pocket, he made the following sketch and passed it
to me.

I nodded as I recognized the cross-section.
fMETA L CAISSON CONCRETE

-CROSS SECTION OF TUBE~

“Now the plan of the thing is like this” he added, put-
ting aside his pipe and pulling a sheet of paper from the
corner of his desk.

Rapidly, with all of his old accuracy, he sketched the
main plan and leaned over as he handed it to me.

SIDING FOR SUCTION

ELEC. LOCO. INLETS

“You see,” he explained, picking up his pipe again,
“both pumps work at one time — in fact, I should say all
four, because this plan is duplicated on the English side.
On both ends then, a train is gently pushed in by an
electric locomotive. A car at a time goes through the
gate so that there is a cushion of air between each car.
The same thing happens at Liverpool. Now, when the
due train comes out of the suction tube, it goes on out
the gate, but the air behind it travels right on around and
comes in behind the train that is leaving.”

“But how are you assured that it will not stall some-
where ?”

“It won’t be likely to with pressure pumps going be-
hind it and suction pumps pulling from in front. We
can always put extra power on if necessary. Thus far
the road has worked perfectly.”

“How much power do you need to send it through,
under normal conditions?”

“Our trains have been averaging about fifty tons, and
for that weight we have found that a pound pressure is
quite sufficient. Now, taking the tunnel’s length as four
thousand miles (of course it is not that long, but round
figures are most convenient) and the tube width eleven
and one quarter feet each, and working this out we
have 3,020,000 cubic feet of free air per minute or
2,904,000 cubic feet of compressed air, which would
use about 70,000 horse power on the air compressor.”

“But isn’t the speed rather dizzy?”

“Not any more dizzy. Bob, than those old fashioned
money-carrying machines that the department stores used
to use — that is in comparison to size. The average speed
is about 360 feet a second. Of course, the train is
allowed to slow down toward the end of its run, even
before it hits the braking machinery beyond the gate.”

“But how much pressure did you say would be put on
the back of the diaphragm — I remember that each car
has a flat disc on the back that fits fairly tightly to the
tube. . .”

“The pressure on the back is less than seven tons.
However, the disc does not fit tight. There are several
leaks. For instance, the cars are as you know, run on
the principle of the monorail with a guiding rail on each^

724

AMAZING STORIES

side. The grooves for the rails with their three rollers
are in each car. There is a slight leakage of air here.”
“You used the turbo type of blower, didn’t you?”
“Had to because of the noise. We put some silenc-
ing devices on that and yet we could not kill all of the
racket. However a new invention has come up that we
will make use of soon now.”

UT I can’t understand, EHitch, why you seemed so
AJ put out when I announced my intention of going
to Europe via the Tube. Why, I can remember the day
when that would have tickled you to death.”

“You followed the digging of the Tube, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course. '

“You remember the volcano and lava seams?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I do not believe that the crack was a pressure
crevice. If it had been, we were far enough below the
ocean floor to har’e partly relieved the situation by the
unusually solid building of the Tube. The tremendous

shell of this new type of specially hardened metal ”

“And the rich concrete that was used as filling ! That
was one job that no one slipjjed up on. I remember how
you watched it ”

“Yet the crack has widened Bob, since the Tube was
completed.”

“How can you be certain?”

“By the amount of water coming through the drain
pipes.”

“But you said that once more it was stationary.”

“Yes, and that is the very thing that proves, I believe,
the nature of the crack.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Why it isn’t a crack at all Bob. It is an earthquake
fault.”

“Good heavens, you don’t mean ”

“Yes I do, /I mean that the next time the land slips,
our little tube will be twisted up like a piece of string,
or crushed like an eggshell. That always was a rocky
bit of land. I thought in going that far north, though,
that we had missed the main line of activity ; I mean the
disturbances that had once wiped out a whole nation, if
your scientists are correct.”

“Then you mean that it is only a matter of time?”
“Yes, and I have been informed by one expert that
the old volcanic activity is not dead either.”

“So that is what has stolen away your laugh ?”

“Well I am one of the engineers — and they won’t
suspend the service.”

“Fate has played an ugly trick on you Dutch, and
through your own dreams too. However, you have made
me decide to go by the Tube.”

He took his pipe out of his mouth and stared at me.
“Sooner or later the Tube will be through, and I have
never been across. Nothing risked — a dull life. Mine
has been altogether too dull. I am now most certainly
going by the Tube.”

A bit of the old fire lit up his eyes.

“Same old Bob,” he grunted as I rose, and then he
grasped my hand with a grin.

“Good luck, my boy, on your journey, and may old
Vulcan be out on a vacation when you pass his door.”

Thus we said good-by, I did not know then that I
would never see him again — that he also took the train
that night in order to make one last plea to the Inter-
national Committee, and so laid down his life with all

the unsuspecting passengers for whom he had pleaded.

It was with many conflicting thoughts, however, that
I hurried to the great Terminus that fatal night, where
after being ticketed, photographed and tabulated by an
efficient army of clerks, I found myself in due time,
being ushered to my car of the train,

F or the benefit of those who have never ridden
upon the famous “Flier,” I could describe the cars
no better than to say that coming upon them by night
as I did, they looked like a gigantic, shiny worm, of
strange shape, through whose tiny port-holes of heavy
glass in the sides, glowed its luminous vitals,

I was pompously shown to the front car, which very
much resembled a tremendous cartridge — as did all of
the other segments of this great glow-worm.

Having dismissed the porter with a tip and the sus-
picion that my having the front car was the work of my
friend, who was willing to give me my money’s worth
of thrill, and that the porter was aware of this, I stowed
away my bags and started to get ready for bed. I had
no sooner taken off my coat than the door was opened
and an old fellow with a mass of silver hair peered in
at me.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I understand you have
engaged this car alone?”

“Yes.”

“I can get no other accommodations tonight. You have
an extra berth here and I must get to Paris tomorrow.

I will pay you well ”

I smiled.

“Take it. I was beginning to feel lonesome, anyway.”
He bowed gravely and ordered the porter to bring in
his things. I decided he was a musician. Only artists
go in for such lovely hair. But he undressed in dignified
silence, not casting so much as another glance in my
direction, while on my part I also forgot his presence
when, looking through the port-hole, I realized that the
train had begun to move. Soon the drone of the pro-
pelling engines began to make itself heard. Then
the train began to dip down and the steel sides of the
entrance became too high for me to see over. My friend
of the silver hair had already turned off the light, and
now I knew by the darkness that we had entered the
Tube. For some time I lay awake thinking of “Dutch’f
and the ultimate failure of his life’s dream, as he had
outlined it to me, and then I sank into a deep, dream-
less sleep.

I was awakened by a terrible shock that hurled me up
against the side of the compartment. A dull, red glow
poured through the port-hole, lighting up the interior
with a weird, bloody reflection. I crept painfully up to
the port-hole and looked out. The strangest sight that
man has ever looked upon, met my eyes. The side of the
wall had blown out into a gigantic cavern, and with it
the rest of the cars had rolled down the bluff a tangled,
twisted mass of steel. My car had almost passed by,
and now it still stuck in the tube, even though the last
port-hole through which I peered seemed to be sus-
pended in air. But it was not the wrecked cars from
which rose such wails of despair and agony that held
my attention, but the cavern itself. For it was not really
a cave, but a vast underground city whose wide, marble
streets stretched away to an inferno of flame and lava.
By the terrible light was lit up the great white palace
with its gold-tipped scrolls, and closer to me, the golden

THE UNDERSEA TUBE

725

temple of the Sun, with its tiers of lustrous yellow stairs
— stairs worn by the feet of many generations.

Above the stairs towered the great statue of a man
on horseback. He was dressed in a sort of tunic, and
in his uplifted arm he carried a scroll as if for the people
to read. His face was turned toward me, and I mar-
veled even in that wild moment that the unknown
sculptor could have caught such an expression of appeal.
I can see the high intellectual brow as if it were before
me at this moment — the level, sympathetic eyes and the
firm chin.

T hen something moving caught my eyes, and I
swear I saw a child — a living child coming from
the burning city — running madly, breathlessly from a
wave of glowing lava that threatened to engulf him at
any moment. In spite of all the ridicule that has been
showered upon me, I still declare that the child did not
come from the wreckage and that he wore a tunic similar
to the one of the statue and not the tom bit of a night-
gown or sheet.

He was some distance from me, but I could plainly
see his expression of wild distraction as he began to
climb those gleaming stairs. Strangely lustrous in the
weird light, was that worn stairway of gold — gold, the
ancient metal of the Sun. With the slowness of one
about to faint he dragged himself up, while his breath
seemed to be torn from his throat in agonizing gasps.
Behind him, the glowing liquid splashed against the steps
and the yellow metal of the Sun began to drip into its
fiery cauldron.

The child reached the leg of the horse and clung there.
. . Then suddenly the whole scene began to shake
as if I had been looking at a mirage, while just behind
my car I had a flashing glimpse in that lurid light of an

emerald-green deluge bursting in like a dark sky of
solid water, and in that split-second before a crushing
blow upon my back, even through that tangle of bed-
clothes, knocked me into unconsciousness, I seemed to
hear again the hopeless note in the voice of my friend
as he said :

“ an earthquake fault.”

After what seemed to me aeons of strange, buzzing
noises and peculiar lights, I at last made out the objects
around me as those of a hospital. Men with serious
faces were watching me. I have since been told that I
babbled incoherently about “saving the little fellow” and
other equally incomprehensible murmurings. From them
I learned that the train the other way was washed out,
a tangled mass of wreckage just like my car, both ter-
minus stations wrecked utterly, and no one found alive
except myself. So, although I am to be a hopeless
cripple, yet I am not sorry that the skill and untiring
patience of the great English surgeon. Dr. Thompson,
managed to nurse back the feeble spark of my life
through all those weeks that I hung on the borderland;
for if he had not, the world never would have known.

As it is, I wonder over the events of that night as if
it had not been an experience at all — but a wild, weird
dream. Even the gentleman with the mass of silver
hair is a mystery, for he was never identified, and yet
in my mind’s recesses I can still hear his cultured voice
asking about the extra berth, and mentioning his press-’
ing mission to Paris. And somehow, he gives the last
touch of strangeness to the events of that fatal night,
and in my mind, he becomes a part of it no less than the
child on the stairs, the burning inferno that lit the back-
ground, and the great statue of that unknown hero who
held out his scroll for a moment in that lurid light, like
a symbol from the sunken City of the Dead.

The End.

What Do You Know?

1> EADERS of Amazing Stories have frequently commented upon the fact that there is more actual knowledge
to be gained through reading its pages than. from many a textbook. Moreover, most of the stories are written
in a popular vein, making it possible for anyone to grasp important facts.

The questions which we give below are all answered on the pages as listed at the end of the questions. Please
see if you can answer the questions without looking for the answer, and see how well you check up on your general
knowledge of science.

1 .

How is a man’s height affected by the actions of the
the glands in the body? (See page 680.)

What glands affect height by their secretions? (See
page 680.)

How many protons and electrons in an atom of gold?
How are they distributed? (See page 682.)

Is ajl sound, at any pitch, audible? (See page 692.)

How does a nerve trunk react to a Faradic or induced
current? (See page 699.)

6. What division of animal nature is of the highest
type? (See page 700.)

7. What things in the natural world produce cold light?
(See page 709.)

8 .

9.

10 .

11 .

12 .

13.

14.

What is bioluminescence? (See page 709.) _

Can you describe the physiology of the firefly (so
called) ? ( See page 710.)

What is the usual cause of light? (See page 712.)
What chemical action occurs in the firefly? (See
page 713.)

What is the function of enzymes in the human
system? (See page 718.)

How would you calculate in the simplest way, the
edge of a cube which would exactly fit into a sphere
of 120 feet diameter? (See page 758-9.)

Are light rays affected by the motion of a luminous
body directly toward or away from us? (See page
768.)

PART II

The

PtzaTfo, "at the head of a little band of intrepid Spaniards con-
quered Peru, he found there a wonderfully civilized race of Indians. The
remains and relics of their old civilization are today one of the most interesting
things to be seen by the ethnologist and antiquarian in the interior of South
America. Findings made in ancient Indian villages, if they could speak, would,
tell more than one story much stranger than fiction.

The second instalment of “The Secret Kingdom" easily maintains the pace set
by the preceding chapters. Like the rest of the story, it is based on a considerable
amount of fact, mingled with imagination that does not go beyond the realm of
possibility.

\^hat ^Ment B^/ ore:

ALFRED BELL, scientist, detailed by the
Society for Biological Research, in

search of hitherto unknown species of plants,
animals, birds and insects in the great, for-
bidding Brazilian wilderness, is being hound-
ed by a German, posing as a scientist, who
has an American companion and a company
of Indian guides.

Tumba, Bell’s Indian guide, is continually
on the lookout for the enemy, and after having
disposed of one or two of the German’s guides,
comes back to inform Bell that there is no food.

Going further into the wilderness, in search
of fresh food, Bell comes just in time to shoot
a female cougar as she was about to jump on
the back of a spectacularly dressed man who
was binding the feet of the struggling cub

which he had made captive. At the sound oi
the rifle shot, the stranger’s bodyguard rushes
forward, just in time to round up the enemy
in the act of plundering Bell’s boxes of precious
collections.

The Inca — Bell soon learns that the stranger
is the Inca of a hidden kingdom — takes Bell
and Tumba back to his kingdom, where Bell
is made a Curaca and installed in good style.
Here he learns something of the history of the
kingdom, meets Nona Flores, also a stranger
in the kingdom, and realizes that the High
Priest, Tupac, for ^me unaccountable reason,
harbors a vindictive feeling against him.
Also, ten of the loveliest maidens of- the King-
dom are offered to Bell as his brides, which
offer he feels it expedient to accept.

CHAPTER VI
Tupac

B ELL’S domestic and civic duties kept him
fully occupied. He was anxious to adapt
1 himself to his enforced change of environ-
' ment; for, although he thought of escape-
from New Cuzco as merely a matter of
time, still he could see no immediate prospect for
it. Meanwhile, life would be much less irksome if he
could be a participant in it rather than merely an ob-
server.

So he strolled about his estate every afternoon, noting
with keen interest the methods of intensive cultivation,
which these people had inherited from their forebears,
and the great diversity of their agricultural products. This
latter circumstance was accounted for by the fact that the
height of the mountain rendered the climate temperate
—much like the uplands enclosed between the Peruvian

Cordilleras which had been the cradle of the Inca civili-
zation.

Great reservoirs near the western extremity of the
mountain, at a natural elevation some hundreds of feet
higher than the remaining area, conserved the rainfall;
while an admirable system of irrigation, the main arteries
of which were ditches made of carefully joined stones
after the ancient Inca fashion, rendered tillage possible
at all times.

The Inca’s fountains played the year through, so
Quizta told the scientist, and there had never been a
shortage of water since the days of Yahuar Yupanqui,
who had engineered the entire hydraulic system. The
uses of modern plumbing once made known to the pro-
gressive Huayna Capac, had been taken advantage of in
the palace, and later in the establishments of the nobles.

Occasionally, to Bell’s .surprise, all save his household
slaves would be absent for two or three days at a time.
He at length inquired of the amauta the reason for this
strange behavior, and was informed that all serfs were

726

Kingdom

PART II

/a-

(XC

Illustrated by

BOB DEAN

By Allen S. and

Otis Adelbert Kline

The following
day he spent in
exploring the
various under-
ground galleries
and examining
the curious

mummy cases.
. . . After hurt-
ing his shins two
or three times,
he lighted a
match and made
his way to the
far end. . . .

727

728

AMAZING STORIES

obliged by time-honored law to help cultivate the lands
of the Sun, the lands of the Inca and the allotted tracts
of the aged and sick, in the order named, besides caring
for the estates of their masters. He observed, also,
that the tasks performed on his premises were under the
charge of overseers, each responsible for ten families.

When gathered, perishable products were immediately
distributed throughout the kingdom, so Quizta told the
scientist. Cereals and dried meats, dried fruits, wool and
other time-resisting provisions were placed in common
storehouses, to be parceled out later to every household
on a per capita basis.

Many of the women were engaged in the spinning of
thread and the weaving and dyeing of cloth. The very
finest fabrics. Bell learned, were for the Inca and his
household; those a shade less fine, for the Inca and
Curaca nobles ; and the coarser cloths were destined for
general use or storage, according to the need.

Everywhere there were evidences of patient, unre-
mitting toil. The people seemed happy and content,
singing weird, barbaric chants as they went about their
work, and performing their allotted tasks without com-
plaint.

Each day, Quizta came to provide instruction. The
methodical mind of the scientist soon grasped the struc-
ture of the Inca language, and he added daily to his
vocabulary. When a fortnight had passed he was able
to converse on every-day topics with the amauta in his
own tongue ; and he delighted in testing himself further
by talking with his overseers.

O N the first three days of each week, in compliance
with the Inca’s command, he attended the morn-
ing audiences. Sometimes he had an opportunity for
a greeting or a friendly word with Nona Flores, en-
countering her by chance in the environs of the palace.
After each of these occasions a hope, only half compre-
hended, stirred within him. But his duties were so ex-
acting that he did not choose to seek more of her com-
panionship, resting content to await a more convenient
season.

Aside from the fact that they afforded him an oppor-
tunity to improve his comprehension of the spoken word,
the audiences of the Inca were a bore to him. The elab-
orate deference shown the sovereign by his subjects, the
pompous ritual and the strange images, soon grew all
too familiar and ceased to hold his interest.

On the third day of his third week of citizenship in
New Cuzco, the audience in the throne room had been
particularly tiresome, and Bell was glad when the last
suppliant presented himself before the Inca. He glanced
around him curiously to see whether signs of ennui were
apparent on the faces of any of the stoical Indians.
When his eyes rested on Tupac, the Villac Vmu, he was
surprised to see that the High Priest, usually stolid and
sullen, seemed highly excited, fidgeting about on his
massive throne.

Tupac was striking in appearance. His skin was
slightly darker than that of the Inca, and his wrinkled,
hawk-like features were rendered ferocious, almost hid-
eous, by two feathers protruding from the cartilage of
his nose and by two massive golden discs stretching his
pierced ear-lobes almost to his shoulders.

His closely cropped hair, its jet black streaked with
gray where it showed beneath his priestly headgear, pro-
claimed him well past middle age ; while his gaudy robes.

of a pattern worn only by the Villac Vmu, adorned a
tall, spare figure that gave the impression of tremendous
latent energy.

The shadow which would end all audiences for the
day was rapidly creeping toward the throne, and Bell
surmised, as he saw the High Priest bite his lips in ex-
asperation, that Tupac himself desired an audience with
the man who was only one degree higher in the realm
than he.

Finally, the last case was disposed of, and there still
remained a few inches of sunlight above the burnished
golden plate. The Villac Vmu hastily removed his san-
dals and, taking a light burden on his back, descended
from his own throne, walked to a position in front of the
Inca and awaited the monarch’s pleasure with bowed
head. Bell forgot his boredom; for it seemed to him
that this servile custom, when extended to include the
mighty Villac Vmu, possessed entertainment qualities
of a high order.

“What boon does the noble Tupac desire this morn-
ing?’’ asked Huayna Capac.

“Only to crave Your Majesty to remember his gen-
erous promise made a year and a half ago,” humbly
answered the High Priest.

“You mean regarding the new gold service for the
temple? It is being wrought by the royal goldsmiths,
and will be completed in time for the feast of Raymi.”

“It was not of the golden vessels I wished to speak,
for I am well aware of the explicit orders Your Majesty
has given concerning these. The subject of my petition
is of much less importance to the state, but one which
concerns me vitally as an individual. Your Majesty
will recall having promised me the hand of the beautiful
Nona Flores in marriage, and as the marriage day is
but three weeks off, I venture this personal reminder in
order that the matter may not be overlooked as it was
last year.”

Bell half rose to his feet, urged by his seething indigna-
tion to give Tupac the lie, but restrained by the thought
that surely he had not heard aright. The Inca, mean-
while, had begun to answer the Villac Vmu; and the
scientist, first scanning the nearest faces to see whether
any had marked his hasty action, sank back in his chair
to await the outcome with such patience as he could
command.

“The hand of Nona?” inquired the calm, unhurried
voice to which Bell had grown accustomed. “Ah, yes,
we well remember the promise, and the word of the
Inca once given is never broken. Even so, we have had
genuine occasion to regret our former attitude of sanc-
tion. It seems that the radiant one is repelled by the idea
of marriage, and it is contrary to our desire that she
assume the bonds of wedlock against her will. We have
many beautiful maidens, Tupac. Would not another do
just as well?”

“Your Majesty, there is no maiden in the realm who
can fill her place for me.”

Underneath his assumed humility, a note of impatience
was discernible in the High Priest’s voice. The Inca’s
tranquillity, however, remained unaffected.

“Come, come, Tupac,” he said. “You may have sev-
eral of our fairest maidens — a dozen if you wish — only
release us from this rashly made promise. Surely, so
much loveliness will more than compensate you for the
loss of this frail girl.”

A flush mounted to the temples of the Villac Vmu,

THE SECRET KINGDOM

729

and he but ill concealed the angry gleam in his eyes.
IJis voice quivered slightly as he replied :

“Your Majesty’s most humble servant shrinks from
causing the slightest displeasure. In spite of that fact,
I can only reply that a dozen — nay, a countless multitude
— of the most beautiful maidens in the world could not
tempt me if their price were the loss of Nona Flores.”

If the Inca was offended, he gave no sign by word,
gesture or expression. Bell, horrified at this sordid
bargain driven by the High Priest, waited breathlessly
for Huayna Capac’s response. It was placid and meas-
ured as before:

“Very well, Tupac. Our word shall be redeemed on
the marriage day.”

CHAPTER VII

The Slave of the High Priest

T he scientist and his aboriginal instructor were at
their lessons. It seemed, however, that Bell could
not concentrate on what Quizta was saying. He
was unable to banish from his mind the thought of
Nona’s impending tragic marriage.

The amauta, after having patiently repeated a phrase
for the tenth time, finally said:

“Is my lord indisposed today, that he does not hear
the words of Quizta?”

“To tell the truth, good teacher,” answered Bell in
the language he had been so assiduously studying, “I do
not feel perfectly sound. Suppose you conduct me to
the lady that heals, to the end that I may have the source
of my ailment disclosed.”

“Ah, my lord, far be it from me to displease your lord-
ship, but you have asked of me that which I dare not do.”
Genuine fear manifested itself in voice and gesture. “I
can, however, conduct you to the High Priest, who is also
a great healer — although some say” — he glanced about
to see whether any of the household servants were within
hearing — “that his power is not half so great as that of
Nona Flores.”

“I am not of a mind to change practitioners at this
time,” replied the scientist. “She nursed me through a
long sickness, and I owe her my very life. If she healed
me before, why then should it l)e forbidden that she
heal me again? Talk reasonably, Quizta.”

“You speak truth, my lord, and fortunate it is for
your lordship that the lady that heals has found a cure
for the terrible curari. She has saved not only you,
but also many of my own people from certain death.”

He paused for a moment, but noting Bell’s impatience,
resumed :

“Has my lord not heard that Nona Flores is betrothed
to Tupac, and that they will be united by the Inca him-
self on the national marriage day after the manner of
our people?”

“Of a surety I have heard it, Quizta,” answered the
scientist sharply. “Perhaps you will be good enough
to tell me what this has to do with the matter at hand.
Has she lost her power to effect cures because of this
coming marriage?”

“The Villac Vmu has issued orders that no one may
seek a healing from her without permission from him-
self. The power of Tupac is exceeded only by that of
the Inca. To disobey his edict is to court death.”

“Let us then hasten to the Villac Vmu,” was the eager
response, “and obtain permission to visit the lady.”

“Ah, my lord, that again would be quite impossible.”

“You speak in riddles, Quizta. I can see no reason
why such a petition should be refused.”

“You force me, my lord,” answered the aifJauta, “to
disclose more than I had intended.” Again he glanced
around, continuing in a lowered voice : “The High Priest
took a violent dislike to your lordship when you were
first brought into the palace, unconscious. He not only
requested the Inca to have you put to death, on the plea
that you might escape and disclose the secret kingdom
to the world, but when this was refused, he even bribed
a servant to poison your drinking water. In some way,
the lady that heals got wind of the plot, and frustrated
it by causing every servant who brought water to your
room to partake of it and remain for fifteen minutes.
When the man who brought the poisoned water refused
to drink, she called the guard, and the servitor was exe-
cuted soon afterward at the Inca’s order.”

Bell betrayed no excitement at this startling news. He
was learning to mask his feelings almost as well as the
monarch himself.

“Quizta,” he said, “you are an able teacher and a
skilled gatherer of news. Tell me this : Was the Villac
Vmu accused by his hireling?”

“Not so, my lord. He did not betray the High Priest,
but it is common knowledge that Tupac was back of the
whole affair. You can readily see now, can you not,
why it is impossible that he will suffer you to visit his
betrothed ?”

“Granting that your ears have heard the truth in this
matter,” answered Bell, “I will visit her without his
permission.”

T he amauta was horrified. He declared vehemently
that he would not be a party to any such rash under-
taking, and attempted to dissuade the scientist from his
purpose.

“I do not ask you to accompany me,” Bell said, in re-
ply to his protestations. “Only tell me how to find her
suite in the palace. I will attend to the rest alone. Come,
my friend, it is but little that I ask of you.”

Quizta at first demurred, but after much urging, and
upon the exacting of a promise that if detected Bell
would never reveal the source of his information, he
yielded finally and gave minute instructions for find-
ing Nona’s quarters in the great palace of the Inca.

Bell slipped his automatic under his mantle, and with
this and his Curaca’s sword as his sole weapons, set out
in the direction of the palace. As all members of the
nobility were permitted entrance to that edifice at will,
he had no trouble in slipping into the hallway on which
the amauta had told him Nona’s suite was located. Find-
ing the exact door, however, was more of a problem ; but
at length, after a careful count based on Quizta’s in-
structions, he lightly rapped on the one which,, accord-
ing to his calculations, was Nona’s.

A listless voice from within said, “Come.”

He opened the door and, stepping quietly within,
closed it after him. Lying face downward on her couch,
a perfect picture of dejection, was the girl he sought.
Puzzled by the fact that she did not change her position,
he walked to her side and gently laid his hand on her
hair.

She turned and recognized him with a start of surprise.
“Why, Setior Bell, it is you. I thought one of the
servants had entered. Don’t you realize that you are

730

AMAZING STORIES

risking your life by visiting me? Have you not heard
the edict of the Villac Vmu? You must leave quickly
before anyone comes.”

Bell ignored her questions.

“You look pale and wan,” he commented severely.
“There are shadows under your eyes, and you have been
crying. Tell me, do you love this Tupac?”

“I . . . I . . .” she faltered.

“You do not love him, do you?”

“N— o,” faintly.

“Then why, in heaven’s name, are you going to marry
him ?”

“Because it is the command of the Inca, and the com-
mand of the Inca is the law of the land.”

“Nona,” said Bell, conquering his native shyness be-
cause the situation demanded that he do so, “I have
come to tell you something. I did not fully realize it
until today, but I love you, girl. I love you with the
deepest devotion, and nothing else matters if I may have
the assurance that you ”

“No, no. You must not say that, Senor Bell. Re-
member, I am betrothed to the High Priest.”

But even as she forbade him, her glorious eyes spoke
otherwise, and he possessed himself of her soft, little
hand and pressed it to his lips. She murmured a faint
objection.

“The Inca has arranged my domestic affairs, also,”
said Bell. “I am bespoken by six dusky maidens, my-
self. But that makes no difference. Won’t you give me
the right ?”

“Senor! What are you saying?” The protest was
spoken softly, but with repressed emotion.

She lay with head thrown back, eyes half closed and
lips slightly parted and trembling. He drew closer and
her hot breath fanned his cheek. She met his ardent gaze
unfalteringly at first — then her eyes went down,

“Nona. God, how I love you !”

Her arms were about his neck — ^her warm lips against
his. The rest of the world might go hang.

S UDDENLY the door opened and a man entered. The
startled lovers saw that he wore the trappings of a
servant of the High Priest. Observing Bell, he halted in
the middle of the floor, puzzlement plainly written on his
face.

Nona was the first to regain composure.

“What is this ?” she asked scornfully. “Does the noble
Tupac consider me already his wife, that his servants
take the liberty of entering my rooms without knocking?
What have you to say for yourself ? Shall I report you
to the Inca?”

“O lady, I rapped on the door,” answered the slave.
“1 swear by the face of the blessed Moon Mother I
rapped, and hearing no answer I concluded you were
out, but tried the latch to make sure. It easily gave
way, and before I realized it I was in the room.”

“What brings you here? You have a message from
your master, I presume.”

“My noble lord sends you this” — ^handing her a heavy
diamond necklace of great beauty — “with the request that
you wear it as his love token on the marriage day.”

While the messenger was speaking. Bell edged care-
fully around toward the door. He had observed a look
of malicious cunning in the eyes of the native at sight of
a man in the room, contrary to the orders of his master,
and that man making love to the High Priest’s future

wife. Turning to depart, the slave found Bell barring the
way.

“Be not so impetuous, O vassal of Tupac,” said the
scientist in the Inca tongue. “Now that your mission is
accomplished, pray do not leave thus unceremoniously.”

Suddenly, and without a hint of warning, the man
whipped out a wicked looking knife and sprang at the
scientist. The onslaught was so quick and violent that
there was no time to draw a weapon. Bell was obliged
to resort to strictly defensive measures. A second later
they were rolling over and over on the floor.

The American was strong, but this native was the most
powerful man he had ever encountered. At the first
leap he had secured a hold on the scientist’s windpipe
which the latter, still convalescent from his recent illness,
found himself unable to break, especially since he was
obliged to occupy one hand in holding the threatening
knife away from his body.

The throttling grip was taking its toll. Struggle as he
would. Bell knew that his senses were rapidly leaving
him. Tiny lights danced before his eyes. His strength
ebbed. The slave felt the weakening fingers relaxing
their hold on his wrist, and with a savage cry of exulta-
tion wrenched his knife hand free. He was about to
plunge the blade into the heart of his intended victim,
when his triumphant shout ended in a gurgling gasp,
and he pitched forward on his face.

Bell, who had closed his eyes, mutely awaiting the
death blow, now looked up in bewilderment after feeling
the body of the other slump down beside him. He met
Nona’s anxious eyes; then saw the bloody poniard
clutched in her right hand.

“Come,” she said hurriedly, “let me help you to get up.
You must leave at once.”

Bell rose to his feet with considerable difficulty.

“You have saved my life . . . again,” he whispered.
“How can I ever repay you?”

“By leaving this place. You are still in danger.”

“But what about you ?” he asked, pointing to the dead
body. “I will wrap it in a blanket and take it with me.”

“No, no. That would never do. You would be
stopped before you had gone fifty feet. Leave it to me.
I have a plan. I will simply tell them that this man at-
tacked me and I killed him. No one can deny my stofy.
There is no witness, no circumstantial evidence.”

She turned away shudderingly from the messenger
whom she had silenced forever, and dropped the reddened
dagger.

“And now it is good-by,” she said haltingly, “for I
know I shall never be allowed to behold you again.”

Seeing the tears that glistened on her silken lashes.
Bell caught her in his arms. The fire and vigor of his
strong body returned to him as he held her close.

“Nona,” he said, “you are not going to marry Tupac.
Be assured of that, once and for all. I will try to find
a way to hide you on the national marriage day. If I
fail in that, the High Priest shall die before he calls
you wife.

“Since we are not permitted to see each other, we must
arrange a meeting place now. Meet me by the great
statue of the llama in the palace garden on the evening
of the feast of Copac Raymi at nine o’clock. Wear
clothing and shoes suitable for rough travel. Will you
come ?”

“Ah, gladly,” she said. “As long as there is the
faintest hope, I grasp it as a drowning man clutches at

THE SECRET KINGDOM

731

seaweed, for I, too, have resolved that I shall never be
Tupac’s wife. If worse comes to worst, the fate of that
slave shall be mine also ... by my own hand.”

CHAPTER VIII
The Feast of Copac Raymi

ANOTHER week slipped by, bringing with it the
4^ day of the great feast of Copac Raymi. >4

■ 4 . .K. Bell rose early, having slept but poorly if at all ;
for he knew that before nine o’clock that night he must
find a way to save Nona from the clutches of Tupac.
He was spurred on by the consideration that, although
during the week just passed he had devised plan after
plan, he had eventually been compelled to reject each
one as futile. '

When he passed through the house it seemed deserted,
until he reached the dining hall, where a single servitor
awaited him.

“Where are all my people ?” he asked.

“They departed long since for the temple of the great
Lord Sun,” the man replied. sjf

“But they have prepared no food,” said Bell, feeling
the need of bolstering up his strength for the exertions
which might await him. “Are they entirely unmindful
of their master?” j|

“Be not angry with them, my lord,” answered the man.
“It is a long established custom and a law of the land,
that every person, bond or free, is to forsake his usual
occupation on the great feast days. His Majesty will
provide ample food for all.”

Noting the fellow’s suppressed eagerness, and guessing
that he was anxious to be away. Bell commended him
for his loyalty in remaining after the others had gone,
and bade him be off and enjoy himself.

Bell decided that he would occupy the time until day-
light in seeking out some breakfast. The larder was
amply stocked, and he had about completed a satisfactory
meal when there came a knock at the door. He went to
open it, and found that a servant in the livery of the
royal palace stood without. He bade him enter, and in-
quired his business.

“My lord,” said the servant, making obeisance, “I
bear the greeting of His Majesty, the Inca, and the com-
mand that your lordship present yourself with the young
men of the Curacas at the appointed time, to take part in
the ceremonies of initiation.”

Bell was alarmed, for he feared the upsetting of his
and Nona’s plans. However, he calmly bowed his assent.

“At what hour will the young Curacas present them-
selves before His Majesty?” he asked.

“Immediately after the noble young Incas have been
received, my lord, which will be not long after the rising
of the great Lord Sun.”

Greatly relieved. Bell decided to accompany the mes-
senger on his return to the city. When they arrived they
found the streets thronged with the eager populace, al-
though the day was only beginning to dawn. The servant
went his way to the palace and Bell attached himself to
a group of nobles of his own class, catching something
of the holiday enthusiasm of those about him.

A rosy glow appeared in the east, and a hush fell upon
the expectant throng. All that could find standing room
had already crowded about the entrance to the temple.
Every eye was turned toward the High Priest. He stood
ready, keen stone knife in hand.

Just as the great red orb appeared, he plunged his
sacrificial blade into the heart of a black llama ; then held
its dimming eyes toward the sun until the last convulsive
movement was over. Dropping the body of the victim,
he extended his hands toward the sun and prayed in a
voice that reached to the very outskirts of the listening
crowd. After this he set about quickly flaying the animal
and cutting up its flesh.

He handed the pieces to his attendants, who still
further divided them with stone knives and distributed
the fragments among the multitude. The raw, warm
morsels were eaten by the favored recipients on the spot.
' This done, the Villac Vmu washed his hands, donned
a richly ornamented robe and led a chanting procession
toward the east, the throbbing cadence of voices and the
measured tramp of feet accompanied by the shrill notes
of double reed instruments.

B ell did not join the followers of this procession, but
stationed himself near the palace gates. He saw
now that the High Priest and his train had halted, though
the barbaric chanting and piping continued. Then the
Inca himself, seated on a gleaming golden throne upon a
platform borne by two dozen slaves, took his position
at the head of the column amid the acclaim of the people,
and once more they moved toward the rising sun.

What further ceremonies ensued Bell could not see,
nor did he greatly care. Not wishing to attract attention
to himself, he stepped into a side street to await the re-
turn of the people, and when they came back ere long,
mingled with them and once more made his way towards
the gates of the palace.

• The young Incas of the royal household appeared a
little later. Having reached the proper age, they had
accomplished their fastings and tests of skill and strength,
and now awaited public recognition of their attainment
to the rights and privileges of manhood. The monarch
came forth and addressed them briefly, after which he
said to his retinue :

“We shall do that which remains to acknowledge them
men before us all.”

He then pierced the ears of each candidate with a
golden bodkin and invested him with a beautifully
wrought scarf, a pair of cloth slippers and a garland of
flowers. Attendants conducted them to an inner cham-
ber for further ceremonies in charge of Inca nobles.

The young Curacas, who had endured the prescribed
trials successfully, were next inducted by means of the
ceremony decreed for those of their station. The Inca
scanned the group until he saw Bell, whose stature and
fair hair distinguished him from his companions.

“Noble Curaca,” he said. “You have proven to our
royal satisfaction that you are possessed of both cour-
age and skill, through your defense of our own jierson
against the dangers of the forest.”

A murmur of approval ran through the listening
throng.

Taking a salver of sacred bread from an attendant, the
sovereign was about to advance for the purpose of divid-
ing a portion with the new white Curaca in accordance
with the hoary custom of the Incas, when Tupac, the
High Priest, broke the silence of the breathless multitude
with

“Your Majesty, I protest against this violation of the
ancient laws and customs of our nation. The white
stranger, despite his heroic preservation of your royal

732

AMAZING STORIES

person, has not stood trial of strength and dexterity as
decreed by our traditions.”

With changeless expression the Inca, having first
glanced at Bell, replied in the monotonous tone that
marked his every speech:

“We had not thought it necessary, O worthy Tupac,
in view of his recent demonstration of both, with a goodly
portion of valor thrown in. However, we do not be-
lieve our erstwhile defender would be averse to such
trial. What say you, noble Curaca ?”

Bell smiled and shrugged.

“It matters not to me. Your Majesty,” he answered.

Again Tupac interposed.

“If Your Majesty will permit a further suggestion,”
he said, “may I propose that the white Curaca be per-
mitted to try conclusions at wrestling with one of our
athletes ?”

Again the Inca surveyed Bell. •

“While our noble white Curaca appears to be no weak-
ling, it is not the custom of his native country, as it is
in ours, for all to learn the art which every man among
us has practiced since childhood. It is possible that,
under the circumstances, he may choose to vindicate his
right to the title of Curaca in some other manner.”

His questioning eyes had held those of Bell for but a
moment when the latter, to the surprise of all, replied:

“The arrangement suggested by the noble Tupac is
quite satisfactory to me. Your Majesty. Though I
wrestle but Indifferently among the athletes of my own
country, I am not entirely without experience in this
sport, as Your Majesty has so graciously intimated, and
may at least be able to afford some entertainment to the
multitude.”

“Spoken like a man,” said the Inca, who, unaware that
Bell had been the wrestling champion of his university,
feqred that he might make a sorry showing against the
poorest of his athletes. “And now to choose an opponent.
I appoint ”

H e was looking at a stripling — a comparative novice
who, he thought, might be a reasonably even
match for the scientist — ^with the obvious intention of
selecting him, when Tupac again interrupted.

“If it please Your Majesty,” he said, “I propose that
the white Curaca meet Ripac. They are quite evenly
matched in size, and should show us a worth-while bout.”

There was a look of guile in the eyes of the High
Priest, which did not escape the notice of Bell, as a
burly individual, fully half a head taller than the white
man and with thews so mighty that the muscles of the
scientist, powerful though they were, appeared almost
childlike beside them, shouldered through the crowd amid
cries of approval from some and of protest from others.

Bell noticed that the words of sanction came mostly
from the members of the crowd who wore the livery of
the High Priest. Others shouted, “For shame ! It would
be no match. Ripac would break him like a dry reed. It
is not fair to pit our champion against one of lesser
strength and experience.”

These latter being in the majority, the sagacious Inca
noted that the crowd was with him and held up his hand
for silence.

“It would indeed be unfair to pit a man of lesser ex-
perience against the mighty Ripac,” he said. “I there-
fore appoint Corac,” indicating the stripling, “who will
oppose the white Curaca.”

There were looks of dissent from many of the High
Priest’s followers, and Tupac himself ill concealed his
chagrin, though he dared not openly oppose the edict of
the Inca. The multitude in general, however, did not
seem greatly moved, either to favor or to disfavor, by this
announcement ; but an abrupt change was apparent in the
attitude of all the spectators when Bell surprised them
by addressing the Inca thus:

“It is most thoughtful of Your Majesty thus to accord
me the opportunity of meeting one of your lesser cham-
pions. However, if it please Your Majesty, I should
prefer the more exacting test proposed by the noble
Tupac.”

A thunderous shout of approval shattered the moment
of tense silence which followed his words, and it was
some time before even the Inca could make himself
heard.

“Are you aware, noble Curaca,” he asked, “that Ripac
is the mightiest wrestler in New Cuzco — that he has
easily overcome the ablest contenders for his title?”

“Some hint of his prowess has just now been re-
vealed to me through the attitude of the people. Your
Majesty,” replied Bell.

“And this does not deter you?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

A murmur of applause from the now tense auditors
was heard.

“Very well. You shall meet Ripac.”

The man whom the Inca had named stepped forward,
a look of disdain on his brutal countenance. Bell noted
that the features of Tupac lighted up for a moment with
an expression of triumph, before he could compose them
to the mask-like calm that marked his usual demeanor.

CHAPTER IX

Six Fiancees

AS soon as the Inca announced that he should meet
AA Ripac, champion wrestler of New Cuzco, Bell laid
■Z. -A. aside his mantle. A ring was cleared on the turf,
around which the gaping natives pressed as closely as
they could. Praise of Ripac was heard from many, but
shouts commending the bravery — the sheer audacity — of
the white man came from every side. There were con-
jectures, too, some of which were audible to the scientist,
as to how quickly the Inca champion would subdue his
smaller opponent.

The pair stood facing each other, waiting for the royal
command to proceed.

“Are you ready, noble Curacas?” inquired the calm
voice of the Inca.

“Ready, Your Majesty,” both replied.

“Then proceed, and may the great Lord Sun look with
favor on the better man.”

The spectators strained forward, watching for the rib-
cracking hug which they knew to be Ripac’s favorite hold
and with which they had seen him maim many an oppo-
nent. Then they gasped with amazement as they saw the
w'hite man easily elude the outstretched hands ; saw him
move with cat-like quickness and seize their undefeated
one.

Although it was a hold well known among wrestlers of
the outer world, it was new to the secret kingdom. With
the same motion with which he bent and eluded those
powerful, gorilla-like arms. Bell had applied the tremen-

THE SECRET KINGDOM

733

dous leverage of the crotch and half-Nelson. Ripac was
swung aloft as easily as if he had been an infant.

The eager onlookers gasped again, thinking their
champion would be hurled to the earth with bone-break-
ing force, but breathed with greater ease when Bell
dropped him to the ground without great violence.

Instead of following up the advantage which might
have given him an easy victory. Bell drew back and al-
lowed the astounded Indian to arise. The crowd surged
in about the pair to watch the outcome, and Ripac, his
chest heaving with suppressed rage, extended his brawny
arms and charged with a bull-like bellow, apparently de-
termined that this time the elupive white man should not
escape him.

Bell did not avoid the outstretched hands. Instead he
seized one sinewy forearm and turning, brought it over
his shoulder. A quick heave and Ripac, describing a
none-too-graceful arc, alighted on his back with a thud
and a grunt some distance from his fresh and still smiling
adversary.

Once more Bell allowed him to regain his feet, but in
this instance assumed the role of aggressor. Leaping in
before Ripac could even try for a hold, he seized a thick
wrist and simultaneously tripped the giant with a
scissors-like movement of his legs, throwing him prone
on the ground. The astounded spectators then saw Bell
bend the thick wrist back and up, seize the other as Ripac
groped in a clumsy effort to break the hold, and force
both huge hands along the spine toward the bulging neck.

With clenched teeth and brutal features contorted by
the pain of that muscle-straining hold, Ripac endeavored
to shake off his opponent. The more he struggled the
higher Bell pushed his enormous paws, until blood from
his bitten lips mingling with the foam that issued from
between his clenched teeth, he groaned :

“Enough.”

Instantly releasing the twisted arms, Bell, to the ac-
companiment of deafening applause, assisted his weak-
ened opponent to arise. When the shouting had subsided
the Inca, turning to Tupac, asked :

“Is there need for further testing?”

Compelled to admit that there was none, Tupac mus-
tered what grace he could, while the Inca, amid further
shouts of approval from the multitude, broke sacred
bread with the white Curaca before conferring this mark
of favor and acceptance on the other candidates. Ripac,
less versed in guile than the High Priest, brushed the
people aside and departed, glowering and muttering
threats against his conqueror.

The scientist was becoming more impatient with each
passing minute. He urgently desired an opportunity to
slip away and find a means to thwart the High Priest’s
designs upon Nona Flores.

He scarcely knew whether to be glad or sorry about
the Ripac incident. He had certainly won the approval
of the populace, but at the same time he had no doubt
made a powerful Curaca his enemy. He looked to the
Inca for a sign that the ceremonies were at an end.

“Noble Incas and Curacas,” said the sovereign, “the
people will be faint with hunger, if food be not soon pro-
vided. O Tupac, servant of our Lord Sun, do thou give
order that the feast be brought forth.”

The High Priest hastened to the temple, where Bell
could see that a procession was ready formed. The Inca
was borne to a place at the head of the line, the people
stripping branches from the trees and clearing a wide
path down the center of the street. As tlie monarch and

his train approached, tliey strewed branches and flowers
across the way, at the same time intoning a subdued
chant.

Bell observed that several figures were seated on mas-
sive thrones atop a great platform, next in line after
Huayna Capac, As this litter passed, he gave a start of
surprise at seeing mummified faces beneath the gorgeous
head-dresses and dead men’s hands resting on the arms
of the golden thrones. Following these came a long line
of slaves carrying trays, baskets and jars of food and
drink, and a great quantity of golden utensils.

Someone placed a hand on his arm, and he turned to
find Quizta beside him.

“My lord is amazed,” said the amauta, “and Quizta has
sought him out in order that he may not be found want-
ing as an instructor. These that you have just seen are
the departed Incas who have reigned in New Cuzco, to-
gether with their Coyas. There are among them a few
more ancient still, who were hidden from the accursed
Spaniards and brought hither.”

“What is the meaning of this procession ?”

“They will pass through all the streets of the city,
after which the feast will be spread on tables in the great
square, and the people will eat and drink from the bounty
of the Inca in the name of his ancestors.”

“Thank you, Quizta. All this is new to me — strange
and interesting, but there are certain matters that I
should attend to at my estate. Will my further presence
here be required?”

“My lord, all personal business is foregone on the
great festal days. When His Majesty has given the peo-
ple his blessing, he will return to the palace and preside
at the repast provided by him for the Incas and Curacas.
My lord’s absence from this latter occasion could scarcely
pass unnoticed.”

“And you, Quizta?”

“I go to eat with the people in the great square.”

As the amauta disappeared in the crowd, which was
now turning toward the place of the feast. Bell cursed
the circumstances that had made him a Curaca instead
of one of the common herd.

How easy it would have been to slip away, had he not
received this special mark of the Inca’s favor. However,
seeing no alternative and hoping that the festivities would
not be greatly prolonged, he turned his steps towards the
palace.

Arrived there, he was conducted at once to the great
banqueting hall and shown to his place by an attendant.
He found to his considerable embarrassment that he was
seated in the midst of a group of six comely maidens,
whom he quickly recognized as his fiancees. All of them
were casting shy and admiring glances at him. At a loss
what to do or say because of his ignorance of the con-
ventions of the land, he mastered his confusion as best
he could, and took to surveying his surroundings.

The long, low table about which the nobility reclined
on luxurious cushions occupied a central position length-
wise of the hall at one end of the room. At the other
end, and elevated several steps, was a similar table, some-
what smaller and placed crosswise of the hall. Here Bell
saw the Inca nobles assembled. Near the head of the
board sat Tupac and — his heart dropped a beat — beside
him Nona Flores. He experienced a pang of jealousy
as he observed that they were engaged in animated con-
versation.

A functionary stationed at the door announced, “The
Inca comes.” Immediately the buzz of voices ceased, and

734

AMAZING STORIES

every person rose. As the monarch appeared, followed
by his Coya and concubines, all knelt to do him homage.
-^The scientist followed their example.

“Arise, noble Incas and Curacas,” said the familiar
even voice of the sovereign.

He had advanced until he stood near Bell, and now
came directly toward him.

_ “It is our pleasure,” he said, “to present to our new
citizen with due formality the maidens who are be-
trothed to him.”

THE SECRET KINGDOM

735

As he named them one by one, with a brief reference
to her noble lineage, each one took Bell’s hand in turn,
kissed it and pressed it to her forehead. He thought of
nothing appropriate to say, so kept silence. Evidently
this was just what was expected of him.

The Inca and his women passed on to their places at
the upper table, and, at his signal, the banqueters were
all seated. Servants brought sumptuous viands in great
quantity and variety, and filled the golden cups with
chica, the native brew, and rich red wine.

Now that they had been duly presented, the six maidens
lost some of their shyness. Bell found them to be witty,
intelligent and discreetly curious. He tried with all his
power to enter into the spirit of the occasion, to uphold
his part in the table talk, and to keep his eyes from stray-
ing too often toward the girl he loved.

When, however, he noted the air of proprietorship with
which the High Priest regarded her, he cast discretion
to the winds. More than once, as the banquet progressed,
the sharp glances of the two men clashed like hostile
blades.

Presently the haravecs, or poets, entered and recited
their heroic tales in celebration of the exploits of the
Incas, past and present.

When Huayna Capac finally arose and dismissed them.
Bell left the banquet hall with a heavy heart, pondering
how he might deliver Nona from that most terrible of
menaces, Tupac.

I T was nearly noon on the day of the feast of Copac
Raymi when Bell left the banquet hall. Upon in-
quiring of a friendly Curaca, he learned that there
would be other prescribed celebrations throughout the re-
mainder of the day, with a torchlight procession at night.

On account of Ae short time left to him, he knew that
he must work rapidly if he were to find a way to rescue
Nona. Desiring seclusion above all things else, therefore,
he set off in the direction of his estate, moving at a
leisurely pace in order to avoid attracting attention to
himself.

He found that none of his retainers had come back
from the city and was grateful that, although half the
day had been wasted, he would have the place to himself
at least.

Pondering the weighty problem that confronted him,
he made his way to the vineyard and wandered about
among the rows of hardy vines, paying but scant atten-
tion to the ripening fruit, which gave promise of an ex-
cellent crop. Arriving at the end of the vineyard, he
suddenly brought up against a single row of grapes which
had been planted straight across and at right angles to
the rest.

Turning, he walked aimlessly along the trellised and
thickly-vined end-row, still deeply preoccupied; then
reached out abruptly to grasp a woody stem for support.
He pulled himself to a sliding stop, realizing that his
errant feet had nearly carried him over the edge of the
cliff.

736

AMAZING STORIES

He peered cautiously down, and saw that the rocky
walls rose sheer and smooth. A small stream a thousand
feet below him gave back the rays of the sun, and he
marked a herd of llamas as they approached the water’s
edge to drink. They looked no larger than flies, so great
was the distance.

He turned back from the cliff and noticed that the odd
row of vines extended parallel with it, approaching at
places within three feet of the edge. He was proceeding
along this narrow pathway when his attention was at-
tracted by an eagle, soaring toward a point in the cliff a
little lower than where he was standing. The bird of
prey carried a small animal in its talons. Bell looked be-
low for a landing place, but could see none. There was
not a shelf or crevice visible for more than a hundred
feet — in fact, the surface was in some places actually
concave.

Watching the eagle curiously, he was amazed when it
apparently flew directly into the solid wall at a point
about thirty feet below him and disappeared from view.
He waited patiently until the feathered scourge of the
air launched forth, and flew away with empty talons.

There was a reason for his loitering now. The signifi-
cance of this happening had smitten him suddenly and
forcibly. There must be a cave or hole of some sort in
the rock — an aperture which, judging by the unhesitating
manner in which the eagle had approached, would be
large enough to admit a man. At least, it would bear
investigation.

He walked back to his villa, and, finding the place still
void of inhabitants, entered to seek out his camping
equipment. He removed a light, tough coil of plaited
fibre from one of the boxes, laid aside his outer gar-
ment and wrapped the entire rope about his waist. When
he had again put on and fastened his cloak, no one would
have guessed that he carried anything unusual concealed
about his person.

For caution’s sake, he strolled casually back through
the vineyard. When he was again behind the vines on
the cliff’s edge, however, his leisurely manner disap-
peared. Quickly uncoiling the rope from about his
waist, he made one end fast at the base of a thick grape
vine and went down hand over hand.

Having descended what he thought to be about the
proper distance, he sought a footing upon the smooth
face of the precipice, and shortly was rewarded by feel-
ing his toes catch on a firm ledge. At this promise of re-
payment for his efforts, he lowered himself more slowly,
meanwhile working his body inward with a walking
motion.

Suddenly he felt a sharp blow on his shin, quickly fol-
lowed by a half-dozen more. The mother bird had evi-
dently returned during his absence, and was protecting
her home. Bell, stubbornly determined to complete his
investigation, kicked out viciously, slipped, experienced
an uneasy moment of precarious balance and then found
himself sprawled on the floor of a small cave. He could
dimly discern two moving objects in the murky interior,
presumably the eagle and one of her offspnng.

His leg smarted from the onslaught of the angry bird’s
sharp beak, yet he did not want to kill her, unless it should
prove absolutely necessary. He edged a little farther
into the cave, but the eagle took this for an offensive
movement and flew at him with a scream of rage, talons
extended to strike.

Bell avoided the attack by throwing himself quickly
to one side, and the furious defender’s momentum carried

her outside and a full fifty feet beyond the opening.
Rushing to where the eaglet cowered in a corner, the
usurper seized it and threw it from the cave.

On looking out, he saw what he had anticipated would
take place. The mother bird swooped down beneath her
falling, fluttering progeny. Catching the helpless thing
deftly on her back, she flew swiftly away and was soon
a mere speck on the horizon. Familiar as he was with
the ways of these creatures, the scientist was certain that
she would not seek to reclaim her lofty domicile.

He turned to examine the chamber. It was about
twelve feet deep and perhaps ten wide. The floor was
strewn with bones and covered with filth. The half-eaten
remains of a freshly-killed agouti, a rodent about the
size of a rabbit, lay near him.

Bell cleaned house, as best he could, by scraping the
litter from the floor with his sword and pushing it out
the doorway. Then he climbed back up the rope, .went
some distance along the edge of the cliff and returned
with a huge bundle of dried grass. He pulled up the
rope and attached the bundle to the end, eased it down
and descended once more to the cave. Drawing the
grass in after him, he released it and shook it down in
one corner of the room. When he had repeated these
labors several times, a soft and comfortable couch was
the result.

His next concern was for provisions. The sounds of
revelry reached him faintly from the city, and he saw
no one approaching along the road. Still, there was need
for extreme watchfulness. He would run no rfslt of hav-
ing his precious secret discovered. Accordingly, he made
several trips to the storeroom and back, carrying small
quantities of food under his clothing, and watching care-
fully for returning servants. Though none appeared, he
took the further precaution of pulling up the rope and
concealing it each time he left the cliff. Consequently,
it was late in the afternoon when he completed his task
by depositing two large skins of fresh water in the
chamber.

That evening, as Nona prepared to meet Bell in the
garden, her heart was filled with anxious forebodings. To
the accompaniment of terrifying thoughts, she donned
clothing suitable for rough travel, as Bell had suggested.

“What if we are discovered ?” she asked herself, “What
if Tupac’s men should see us?”

She knew all too well what the awful consequences
would be. Bell would be taken and executed, and she —
no doubt they would keep her in close confinement until
the morrow. There would be no escape for her from the
fate she most abhorred — the seraglio of the High Priest.

When she stole quietly out through the door of her
apartment, her courage almost forsook her. She hesi-
tated for only a moment, however, nerving herself to
walk slowly along the hallway and down the steps leading
to the garden. As she made her way toward the meeting
place, two figures detached themselves from the shadow
of the palace wall and stealthily followed.

Arriving at the statue of the llama, she waited breath-
lessly. It was just nine o’clock, but no one was in sight.
O, why didn’t he come ? What could have delayed him ?
Fortunately, the great torehlight procession had drawn
the populace to the other end of the city. They ought
to make good their escape at once.

Each minute seemed like an hour. A thousand appre-
hensions tortured her. Had something happened to Bell ?
Perhaps the High Priest had learned of their plans and
had caused him to be slain from ambush.

THE SECRET KINGDOM

A tall form approached her, a shadowy outline
among the trees and shrubbery. She rushed forward
with a glad little cry of -welcome — then stopped with
an exclamation of terror. The man was Tupac.

Instinctively she shrank back against the base of
the statue. He stood before her, a smile of gloating
triumph on his demoniac features.

“So,” he said, “once more you would avoid the
ceremony on the national marriage day. You are
attired for a journey. Very well, we shall journey
together.”

In an instant he had seized her about the waist.
She attempted to scream, but he clapped his hand
roughly over her mouth and dragged her, vainly strug-
gling, into the shadow of the trees.

CHAPTER XI

A Place of Refuge

D elayed as he had been by his preparation
of the cave in which he planned to conceal
Nona, Bell hurried apprehensively toward the
square ; for he was already late, and the action of his
tardiness on his nerves was momentarily on the in-
crease. He rushed breathlessly through the unpeopled
streets until at length, with his objective before him,
he paused in dismay.

The trysting place was as deserted as the empty
streets through which he had just passed. A great
fear gripped his heart — all the more terrible because he
had no idea where to turn or what to do.

The sound of a gruff voice, followed by a woman’s
scream in the shrubbery at his right, suddenly ar-
rested his attention. He would know those voices
anywhere — the guttural tones of Tupac and the ter-
rified cry of Nona Flores.

Parting the thickly grown bushes, he saw by the
dim light two forms struggling in a small clearing.
He crossed the intervening space in a single bound,
and flung his arm beneath the chin of the taller figure.

Bereft of breath by the encircling arm, Tupac
attempted nevertheless to draw his sword ; but
a hard fist, driven with tremendous force,
crashed against his jaw again and again. His
knees sagged. A moment later he was hanging,
a limp, dead weight.

Bell flung the unconscious body from him
and bent over the prostrate form of the girl.

"Nona,” he whispered eagerly,

• She opened her eyes and looked up at him
with a glad cry of recognition.

“Scfior Bell, you hav^ . . .” she said, strug-
gling feebly to sit up.

He slid his arm under her.

“Tell me, has he ?”

Suddenly he felt a sharp blozv on his shin, quickly
followed by half a dozen more

738

AMAZING STORIES

She shook her head and smiled weakly,

“Thank God!” he exclaimed fervently, “Let us be
off at once. We have no time to lose.”

Though she still felt dizzy and faint, Nona managed
to scan their surroundings with watchful eyes. Thus it
was that she detected a movement amongst the bordering
shadows.

“Quick !” she cried. “There is someone behind you 1”

Her warning came none too soon, for as Bell turned
two men sprang at him from opposite directions. One
went down in an instant with a swift uppercut to the jaw ;
but the other, who was far more wary, was not to be sub-
dued so easily.

He circled lightly about the big American, looking for
an opportunity to strike with his long, keen-edged knife.
Bell, wishing to end the contest quickly, drew h's Curaca’s
sword and hurled it with all his might. The savage
dodged aside, so that the weapon shot past his head and
crashed into the bushes. This swift evasion inflicted its
penalty, however ; for he tripped on a projecting root and
fell headlong.

Immediately there was a fierce struggle on the ground,
the outcome of which was dubious ; for while the white
man was the stronger and heavier of the two, the Indian
was exceedingly cunning and agile. They rolled over and
over, grunting, snarling, clutching, clawing. If one gained
the advantage, he promptly lost it again through some
quick movement of his adversary.

The scientist found it exasperatingly difficult in the
half darkness to get an effective hold on his sweating,
slippery opponent. The fellow had an uncanny way of
eluding him. In addition, he retained his dangerous
knife, which must needs be guarded against.

Meanwhile, the man who had taken Bell’s uppercut was
recovering consciousness. The sounds of the melee may
have hastened his return to normal. Soon he stole towards
the two on the ground. Once within striking distance he
bent over them, dagger in hand, awaiting an opportunity.
Nona, perceiving the new danger which threatened her
lover, secured the sword of the High Priest and crept
up behind the crouching aborigine.

The opening he sought presented itself to the second
man when Bell, with a powerful heave, flung the other
on his back and grasped the sinewy throat. The battle
would have ended then and there, but just as the savage
was preparing to plunge his blade into the back of the
American he heard the snapping of a twig behind him.
Wheeling swiftly, he faced Nona. There was derision
in his throaty cry as he reached for her, not perceiving
that she was armed. She lunged blindly with the sword ;
then stepped back just in time to avoid the falling body.

Quickly reaching Bell’s side, she found him cursing
and plunging the Indian’s knife agaifi and again into the
lifeless form. For the moment, a primitive rage had com-
pletely unbalanced him.

She laid her hand on his shoulder.

“Come,” she whispered. “We must go. He can harm
us no more.”

At the touch of her hand the madness left him. The
gory knife dropped from his trembling fingers and he
rose unsteadily, his breath coming in quick gasps.

They went to where the other Indian lay and found
him on his face, stone dead. The blade of Tupac’s sword
projected from his back, having been driven in to the
hilt by his fall.

Bell now turned his attention to the High Priest. The
scoundrel showed signs of coming to, so the American

bound and gagged him securely with strips torn from
his own garments.

They left the garden warily,- and were soon treading
the thoroughfares of the city. Street lights were un-
known in New Cuzco, and the friendly darkness en-
veloped them. However, the ruddy glow far behind grew
steadily brighter, and they knew that the torch-bearers
were returning to the great square. Here, Nona in-
formed her companion, they would quickly disband and
take their several ways to their homes, for this was the
end of the great feast of Copac Raymi.

The situation still demanded the utmost stealth, al-
though haste was equally imperative. Onward they
went, through streets and lanes, past small houses set
closely together, by the more pretentious homes of the
nobles, through a succession of gardens, orchards and
vineyards, until finally they stood at the edge of the
cliff. After a twenty-minute search in the darkness.
Bell found the spot for which he was seeking.

After he had uncoiled the rope from about his waist,
the American secured one end to the thick grape vine he
had used previously and stood waiting for an inspiration.
Nona’s whispered words of gratitude and relief had
ceased some time before with their agreement to maintain
as nearly complete silence as possible. Now Bell’s prob-
lem was to get her into the cave. She could not shin
down the rope as he had done, and he dared not risk
carrying her down for fear that it might break with their
combined weight.

He finally hit upon the scheme which appeared to be
the only feasible one. A short conference was necessary,
despite the attendant hazard. They decided that he should
tie the rope under her arms and let her down slowly un-
til she could get her feet into the cave opening and thus
gain access by the method which Bell had employed that
afternoon. This plan was put into execution, and he
swung her carefully over the brink and gradually low-
ered his precious burden, with a prayer that the rope
might hold.

Soon he felt the strain lessening, and a moment later
she called to him softly that she was safely in the cave.
He then threw the rest of his slack over the cliff, and a
moment later was with her in the cavern, untying the
hard knots, which had held her in the descent. After
hanging his mantle over the entrance and lighting a
candle, he showed her where the provisions were, and
they sat down on the humble couch he had constructed.

“Are you afraid to stay here by yourself, Nona?” he
asked.

“I feel safer here than I ever felt in the palace of the
Inca,” she replied. “No, I am sure I shall not be
frightened, but it will be terribly lonesome.”

“Indeed it will,” he agreed. “I wish I might come to
visit you, but I suppose that will be impossible. No
doubt I shall be suspected and spied upon. There are
food and water here for two weeks, but if all goes well
I will take you back to the palace in two days. Much will
depend upon the attitude of the Inca. If I am con-
demned, I shall have time to inform them of your where-
abouts, so there is no danger of your starving here. The
marriage day will have passed for another year, and many
things can happen in a year. Perhaps ”

She looked up quickly and read the longing in his eyes.

“Yes, perhaps . . . but we cannot talk of it now.”

“You are right. I must get to my room without arous-
ing my servants, in order to establish a perfect alibi to-
morrow. I was delayed tonight because of my late dis-

THE SECRET KINGDOM

739

covery of this place, along with the fact that I had to be
so cautious about getting it ready for you. I shudder to
think what my tardiness in meeting you might have cost
— but that is all over now. Nona, while I hate to leave
you cooped up in this dismal hole, I can at least be happy
in the knowledge that tomorrow you will not be Mrs.
Tupac.”

“Ah, that makes any hardship easy to bear.”

After a few pensive moments, she looked up at him
archly but with the suggestion of a shadow in her eyes.

“Have you considered, Seiior Bell, that before another
day passes you will become the husband of six native
beauties? I cannot say that I relish the thought.”

“I have devised a way out of that situation, too,” he
answered. “Tomorrow I will put my plan into execu-
tion.”

“It may work, but I’m afraid it won’t. I am terribly
jealous.”

“Whatever happens contrary to my wishes, you shall
have no cause for jealousy,” replied the scientist, and
fortified his promise with a lingering kiss.

When their farewells had been said, he extinguished
the light, donned his mantle and in another minute was
coiling the rope about his waist at the top of the cliff.

Everything seemed quiet and orderly within the house
when he arrived. Removing his sandals, he stole noise-
lessly to his bedchamber. His first act on reaching his
room was to remove his torn, blood-stained clothing and
burn it in the fireplace. After a refreshing bath, he
stretched his tired body on the bed and fell into troubled
sleep, for many weighty problems still confronted him.

CHAPTER XII

The National Marriage Day

HE white Curaca’s valet awakened him somewhat
earlier than usual by tapping on the door.

“Come,” he said drowsily, and turned over to en-
joy a few minutes’ sleep while his bath was being pre-
pared.

The man bustled about with unwonted noise and
alacrity, and the nap was of short duration.

Emerging from the bathroom. Bell noticed that his
servant had brought him clothing of particularly brilliant
hues and gaudy pattern.

“Where did you get that bird-of-paradise outfit?” he
asked. “Take it back and bring me a regulation Curaca
suit.”

“If your lordship will permit,” replied the valet, bow-
ing humbly, “I venture to remind you that this is your
marriage day. These are the customary wedding garments
of a Curaca noble. It would be most improper to appear
before the Inca for the ceremony in any other costume.”

Bell felt like blurting out that he was not going to ap-
pear before the Inca at all, that day, but he refrained
and suffered the man to fasten the resplendent apparel
about him.

After breakfast he strolled out into his yard. He had
noticed a specimen of the tree, QuiUaja Saponaria, or
soap-bark tree, growing there the day before and it
was his intention to put it to a somewhat novel and de-
cidedly spectacular use. The bark has been used for
various purposes in pharmacy. Cutting off a portion
of the bark, he went back to his room where, after bolting
the door, he rummaged among his camp belongings until
he found a stew pan. This he partly filled with water

from the tap in the bathroom. He then kindled a small
fire in the grate, cut the bark into minute pieces, con-
signed these to the water and put the concoction on
to boil.

Soon the liquid turned a pale brown color, upon which
he removed the pan and allowed it to cool. This being
accomplished, he shook it and smiled as a light foam ap-
peared on the surface. He had made a fairly good sam-
ple of Brazilian vegetable soap.

He filled his mouth with a portion of it, disposed of
the balance, and packed the pan away once more after
rinsing and thoroughly drying it. Then he walked out
into the hallway and, on meeting a slave girl, moaned
loudly, blew a quantity of froth from his mouth and fell
to' the floor, struggling and twisting as if in great agony.

She gave one frightened look at him, then dropped the
bedding she was carrying and rushed down the hallway
shrieking :

“Help ! Quick . . . our master is dying. He has fallen
in a fit.”

Her cries brought a score of servants, and Bell was
soon surrounded by an excited group of men and women.
He rolled his eyes, turned his head from side to side, and
now and then emitted small puffs of foam.

“The amauta !” cried someone. “Get the amauta.”

Just at this juncture the worthy Quizta, the amauta, ar-
rived on the scene. Believing the American to be in his
death throes, he ordered them to convey him to his room.

Bell writhed and frothed at the mouth until his supply
of liquid soap was exhausted, after which he lay as still
as he could.

The amauta drove the curious servants from the room
and closed the door. There was a look of anxiety on his
face as he approached the bedside. Bell saw that he had
a true friend in Quizta. Just now, however, he gazed
dully up at him, apparently with unseeing eyes. Finally
he spoke haltingly, simulating great weakness and pain.

“Will you . . . send ... a message for me, Quizta?”

“Gladly, my lord. What manner of message may I
send ?”

“Please dispatch one of my slaves ... to the Inca, with
the message . . . that I regret exceedingly . . . that an ill-
ness, which prevents me leaving my bed ”

He paused, seeming to labor for breath. The sympa-
thetic amauta bent lower over his pupil and waited for
him to continue.

“Have the messenger . . . tell His Majesty that . . . this
illness makes it impossible . . . for me to attend . . . the
national marriage day festivities.”

“It shall be done at once, my lord.”

So saying, Quizta pulled a bell cord and issued the
necessary instructions to the servant who answered. He
then took a seat at the bedside. Bell tried to go to sleep,
but finding this out of the question, simply closed his
eyes and wished that the sad-faced amauta would leave.

This the latter failed to do, however, and time dragged
wearily for the scientist, who hardly dared lift a finger
for fear of betraying the fact that he was not a grievously
sick man. After a tiresome hour of this. Bell had about
decided to ask his friend to leave when a sudden commo-
tion was heard in the yard outside. Quizta rose and went
to the window.

“It is the Inca !” he cried. “The Inca is coming.”

Bell now felt that it would be up to him to act in real
earnest. He had not expected any such development as
this. A few moments later the Inca was seated at his
bedside.

740

AMAZING STORIES

“We were extremely sorry to hear of your illness,
noble Curaca,” he said, “but since you could not come to
us, we have come to you.”

“I am overwhelmed by Your Majesty’s kindness,” re-
plied the American in a low voice, feigning to be almost
too faint to talk.

“This marriage day has been rather puzzling to us.
First the Villac Vmu and his fiancee failed to put in an
appearance. Then we received your message. All of the
other marriage ceremonies have been performed and the
festivities are now in progress. Your own absence was
satisfactorily explained, but that of Tupac and his bride-
to-be remains a mystery. Neither has been seen since
last evening, nor can a trace be found of either of
them.”

Bell was secretly elated. So, they had not found the
High Priest. That meant that he had not succeeded in
liberating himself. Of course he had trussed his enemy
up quite well, but with never a thought that the bonds
would hold so long. The picture of the pompous arch
villain spending the national marriage day in the quiet
seclusion of the Inca’s shrubbery was so pleasing to him,
that he restrained himself with great difficulty from
chuckling aloud. He managed, however, to give the im-
pression of mild surprise.

“What can have become of them ?” he asked haltingly.
“Is it possible . . . that they have left . . . the country
together ?”

“It is impossible for anyone to leave this mountain
without our knowledge and permission. They are hiding
somewhere nearby, but we shall not trouble ourselves
about them. If they do not wish to be married, why, that
is nothing to us.”

The monarch clapped his hands and a number of people
trooped into the room, among them the six maidens to
whom Bell had been betrothed some days before. These
latter came to the bedside at a sign from the Inca, where-
upon he grasped the scientist’s limp fingers and, taking
the hand of each girl in turn, joined them in the attitude
of friendly greeting.

Bell assumed that they were holding a ceremony of
condolence for him and hoped it would soon be over.
Formalities of any kind bored him.

The Inca arose.

“You must be weary from all this excitement, so we
will leave you now with our hearty congratulations and
good wishes for your speedy recovery.”

So saying he left the room, followed by his courtiers
and attendants. The six maidens, however, remained.

When he heard the last of the royal party leaving his
house. Bell called the amauta to his side.

“What are they waiting for?” he asked, indicating the
six young women who stood demurely before him.

“They await your pleasure, my lord. You will no
doubt wish to assign them quarters. Shall I attend to the
matter for you?”

“Assign them quarters? What do you mean, Quizta?
Have they no homes? I am not running a boarding
school for young ladies.”

“His mind has been weakened by the sickness,” thought
the amauta. Aloud he said, “They had homes, that is
true, but as they are now your lordship’s wives ”

“My what?” cried Bell, sitting bolt upright and mo-
mentarily forgetting his feigned illness. “Why, what
are you talking about, Quizta? There has been no
ceremony.”

“The marriage ceremony of our people is very sim-

ple,” replied the amauta. “It consists merely in the
joining of the hands of the contracting parties on the
national marriage day by the Inca or his district gov-
ernors.”

Bell dropped back on the pillows. So, all of his acting
had been for naught.

“Have them conducted to suitable quarters, Quizta,”
he murmured weakly.

CHAPTER XIII
Morea

O N the following morning. Bell was looking
through his camping equipment when he chanced
upon a knife of curious design and pattern. It
had belonged to Tumba, the man who had been his com-
panion on the wearisome journey through the Brazilian
wilderness. He had been so busy with other matters
since his advent in New Cuzco that he had completely
forgotten his fafthful servant, and felt not a little
ashamed of his negligence as he balanced the small, keen-
edged weapon in his palm.

“Truly, a sharp reminder in more ways than one,” he
reflected, and resolved to make inquiries regarding
Tumba at once.

To this end, he enlisted the services of Quizta. No,
the amauta had heard nothing concerning his lordship’s
servant. If a Carib, or resembling a Carib, he had prob-
ably been made a slave. In New Cuzco all Caribs were
slaves. He would investigate.

Some hours later a messenger returned with the tid-
ings that Tumba was a slave in the service of one Caxa-
marka, an Inca noble of considerable wealth and influence.
Bell, taking a quantity of gold from one of his treasure
chests, asked Quizta to conduct him to the home of
Caxamarka.

When they were ushered into the presence of that
noble, they found him with his quipucamayu or keeper of
records, busily engaged in going through a huge pile of
the documents.

“Figuring up his resources, no doubt,” thought Bell,
“From the size of that stack of yarn, I judge he must be
in excellent financial circumstances.”

Caxamarka was gray-haired and seventy, but athletic
and youthful of figure. Age rested but lightly upon
him. He greeted his visitors cordially and desired to
know in what manner he might be of service to them.

Bell explained that, through some mistake on the part
of the Inca’s men, his servant had been made a slave
along with the Caribs. Having heard that the noble Cax-
amarka was now the owner of Tumba, he had come with
the wish to purchase him.

Yes, the old nobleman remembered having received
four slaves from the Inca’s soldiers a short time before.
He would have them brought in.

A servant was dispatched. He returned some mo-
ments later with four sullen Indians. Tumba was not
among them. The scientist’s disappointment showed in
his face.

Caxamarka was sorry — exceedingly sorry. Perhaps
Tumba had been purchased by some other noble.

Quizta suggested that they question the Caribs. Pos-
sibly they would know what had become of their former
adversary. Bell interrogated them in their own tongue,
and one of the men replied that Tumba had been bought
just the day before by Morea.

THE SECRET KINGDOM

741

“Who is Morea?” asked Bell. “We must find him
quickly.”

“Why, Morea is my daughter,” replied Caxamarka.
“She recently came of age and has a fortune in her own
right. I knew that she had acquired some slaves yester-
day, but it never occurred to me that your man might have
been among them. I will have you conducted to her
at once.”

They found the lady reclining listlessly upon a dainty
couch, regaling herself with tiny cups of cocoa which a
slave girl handed her from time to time. Meanwhile,
she listened with a somewhat bored expression to the
singsong voice of a patient amauta as he read from an
old Spanish novel.

Morea longed for romance — she sought romance ; but
somehow it had always eluded her. Being the daughter
of the third man of the kingdom, she hardly dared con-
sider any of the lesser nobles as a possible husband;
consequently she had set her cap for the High Priest.
While he had many concubines, not one of them had in-
curred sufficient favor to be elevated above her com-
panions as ruler of Tupac’s seraglio and potential mother
of his lawful heirs.

This was the place which Morea had for some time
coveted and, incidentally, the distinction which the Villac
Vmu had intended to confer upon Nona. When his
intentions in this matter had been made known to Caxa-
marka’s daughter, the tidings had caused her considerable
anger and mortification, and she had then and there re-
solved to marry a man for love and to throw ambition
to the winds. Up to the present time, however, love had
not come to her. So far she was merely in love with love.

When she saw Bell, all this was changed. There was
something about him which fascinated her — attracted her
strangely. She knew not what it was, and cared less.
She had triumphed at last. She had glimpsed romance,
and she meant to see more of it. Could it be, after all,
that she was mistaken? But no — all of the delightful
sensations described by her Spanish authors were there.
The wild beating of her heart when he had entered, the
delicious thrill when he had touched her hand in greet-
ing, her magnetic response to the very sound of his
voice: all these convinced her that a most delightful
affair of the heart had sprung into full flower in an
instant.

She would have preferred that the object of her af-
fection should be at least an Inca noble; but Bell had
already been made a Curaca, and a man so altogether
splendid in natural endowments should carve out a much
greater place for himself amongst the New Cuzcan no-
bility. Perhaps before the next marriage day rolled
around he would have performed some great deed on be-
half of the state, and would have been rewarded by an
elevation in rank.

She graciously bade the scientist and his companion
be seated, dismissed her amauta and offered them choco-
late. After a somewhat trivial conversation in Spanish,
Bell gradually led around to the reason of their visit.

“Tumba ? Oh, yes, I remember him well : the strongest
and most intelligent slave among those I purchased yes-
terday. He is really quite valuable.”

“I am prepared to pay any price you ask,” replied
Bell, emptying the contents of his bag of gold before
her. “Take from this pile of coins a quantity sufficient
to reimburse you fully. If this be not enough, I will
bring as much more as you require.”

Morea scarcely glanced at the heap of glittering metal.

“Dismiss your amauta and I will send my slave girl
away. Matters of this kind are best discussed in private.”

Although he was somewhat surprised. Bell complied
by requesting Quizta to leave the room and remain out-
side, after which he waited for the girl to speak.

“I want none of your gold,” she said when they were
alone. “I have plenty of it — more than I shall ever need.
You have brought the price of fifty slaves, but should
you offer ten times that amount I would not touch a
single piece of it.”

“Am I to understand that you will not part with
Tumba at any price?”

“I did not say that. In fact, I fully intend that he
shall be yours, but he shall not be paid for with gold.”

“Perhaps, then, there is some task you wish me to per-
form. In that case you have only to command me, not
only because I long to have my old servant back, but
because I will consider it an honor and a pleasure to serve
so gracious and charming a lady.”

Morea leaned toward him with sparkling eyes, her
vanity touched by his gallant speech.

“I want you to take me in your arms and kiss me as
the white men kiss their sweethearts,” she said.

Bell was completely taken aback. Feeling obliged to
spar for time, he resorted to what he considered pardon-
able dissimulation.

“And how is that?” he inquired. “Never having had
a sweetheart, I am very much afraid that I could not
qualify. Indeed, I am quite sure that I should be a
dismal failure at acting the part of a lover.”

As he aptly put it later, he was “between the devil and
the deep blue sea.” He wanted Tumba back and was
willing to go to almost any lengths to get him; but the
idea of kissing this half-savage girl was revolting, and
doubly so when he thought of Nona.

“O, but I am sure you could do it beautifully,” she re-
plied, accompanying the words with her most winning
smile. “One does not need practice for such things,
according to all the books I have read on the subject. Of
course, if you don’t want to you needn’t,” she added a
bit haughtily. “I will keep the slave and you may take
your money and be off. The daughter of Caxamarka is
not in the habit of seeking favors from a mere Curaca.”

Bell rose and bowed stiffly.

“And I, though ‘a mere Curaca,’ am not in the habit
of seeking favors from anyone,” he retorted. “I came
to purchase a slave who rightfully belongs to me. By
your own statement, I tendered you the price of fifty
slaves in payment. The gold is no more to me than it is
to you. I will not trouble to take it with me. If you
wish, you may keep both my money and my slave, with
the guilty knowledge that you are making unlawful use of
the property of another.”

Morea was furious for a moment, but when she saw
that he was leaving, pride capitulated to desire. Quickly
rushing to his side, she placed a restraining hand on his
arm.

“Do not go, noble Curaca,” she implored. “I spoke
hastily, thoughtlessly, and I ask your forgiveness. You
shall have both your money and your man. Here.” She
handed him the sack, and he held it while she replaced the
treasure, “I will retain only this small piece of Spanish
coinage as a keepsake. Your slave shall join you im-
mediately in the yard.”

Bell felt elated over this unexpected turn of affairs.
He wheeled suddenly and took her lightly by the
shoulders.

742

AMAZING STORIES

“I cannot kiss you as a man would kiss his sweetheart.
That would never do. I am a married man with six
wives. I will, however, kiss you as a brother might kiss
his sister.”

So saying, he touched her cheek lightly with his lips,
and was gone before she could grasp the full signifi-
cance of his words. She stood looking after him, dazed
by his sudden speech, thrilled by his kiss of gratitude and
wondering much at his strange eccentricity. Mechanic-
ally, she summoned a servant and gave the order for
Tumba’s release.

A few minutes later, there was a happy reunion of
master and man in front of Caxamarka’s palace.

They were returning home when Bell noticed a familiar
figure approaching. It was Tupac, followed by a half-
dozen of his attendants. As the two parties passed on
the road, the scientist saluted gravely. The High Priest’s
only response was a lifting of the eyebrows. His brief
stare, however, was full of the bitterest malevolence. It
was patent that he, at least, had guessed the identity of
the man who, after effecting the rescue of Nona Flores
under cover of darkness, had left him to meditate on the
error of his ways in the Inca’s shrubbery patch.

“Noble Curaca,” said the aniauta anxiously, when this
little drama had been enacted, “your humble servant is
again reminded that the mighty Villac Vmu is not kindly
disposed toward your lordship.”

“That seems quite evident, Quizta. He failed to recog-
nize my greeting save by black looks. I have fulfilled
the requirements of courtesy. What more can I do ?”

“I have no suggestion, except that my lord maintain
the strictest vigilance.” He lowered his voice. “In New
Cuzco, it is commonly held that to incur the displeasure
of the High Priest is to sign one’s own death warrant.
When I have told your lordship such things as I know
concerning his methods, you will recognize that your
peril is a very real one. The Villac Vmu not only has
practically unlimited civic power, but in addition he con-
trols an efficient spy system which keeps the populace
in abject terror at the mere mention of his name. Among
the common people, the name of Tupac is usually pro-
nounced in a frightened whisper, with the admonition,
‘Be careful, for even the ground has ears.’

“Many believe that he possesses supernatural powers
by means of which he is enabled to know, at all times,
everything that is being said and done in the kingdom.
Those who oppose his will meet with imprisonment, tor-
ture or death. If his enemies are too powerful to be at-
tacked openly, there are other ways. Only a few weeks
ago, an Inca noble was rash enough to express his dis-
approval of the Villac Vmu. He died suddenly and
mysteriously. There was a rumor that he had been
poisoned, but the investigations which were made dis-
covered nothing, and the matter was quickly hushed up.”

“Quizta, I thank you for this new evidence of your
friendship and concern for me. I shall be on my guard.”

While the amauta talked, he had been giving more than
half of his attention to troubled thoughts about Nona. He
saw that, now Tupac’s suspicion was apparent, he would
have no time to lose in getting the girl back to the palace.
Without doubt the High Priest would strike suddenly,
secretly and effectively. It would be folly to leave her
in the lonely cavern, when the only one in possession of
her secret might be slain at any moment. He therefore
resolved to go for Nona that very night.

Upon his return home. Bell sat at the table for the
first time with his six newly acquired wives. “The Sex-

tette from Huayna” he called them, in an effort to meet
with good humor a most unpleasant situation. They
were all daughters of Inca nobles and spoke Spanish
fluently, so there was no lack of conversation. He joined
in amiably enough, maintaining, however, a certain
amount of reserve and dignity which forbade undue
familiarity. They seemed to take his partial aloofness
as a matter of course, which at tire time surprised him,
although he learned afterward that this was the demeanor
generally affected by heads of households throughout
New Cuzco.

They listened, wide-eyed and wondering, to his descrip-
tions of the part of the world from which he had come,
and plied him with incessant questions, many of which
would have seemed childish to a person unacquainted
with the fact that they had always been so circumstanced
as to gain but meager knowledge of any part of the
outside world.

Bell retired after dinner to what he termed his library,
there to enjoy a cigar while transcribing some notes
which he had made that day ; for, in spite of the predica-
ment in which he found himself, fie was still the scientist
at heart. Even though biological investigations were
now, perforce, a hobby rather th^ an occupation, his
manuscripts had been enriched by many pages, at odd
times, during his enforced residence in New Cuzco.

He had written but a few lines when the “Sextette”
came quietly in. The girls distributed themselves about
the room in various comfortable and home-like attitudes,
and each took from a beaded bag that she was carrying,
some unfinished work with which to occupy herself. Bell
noticed that tlie one nearest him was making fillet lace,
while the others seemed to be embroidering sundry small
articles of apparel.

Not wishing to appear rude, and yet feeling a little
vexed at this calm introduction of domesticity into his
workroom, the scientist resumed his task without a word
of greeting.

His wives tactfully forebore from conversation in
order not to disturb him.

A half-hour of writing, and his notes were all tran-
scribed and the papers put away. He turned, and his
eyes fell on Mirim, the one who was making the fillet
lace. She looked up quickly.

“Will it please my lord to be entertained this evening ?”
she asked.

Bell was puzzled how to answer. He had intended
going to his room, but realized that it would be several
hours before he could venture to take Nona from the
seclusion of her cave. Meanwhile there was nothing to
do but to wait.

“What sort of entertainment?” he inquired.

Mirim seemed surprised at his question.

“We have been taught to sing, to play stringed instru-
ments and to dance.” she replied.

He thought of Nona, passing the monotonous hours
out there in the lonely cavern. No one was entertaining
her. Why should he make merry ?

“Some other time,” he said. “I am still a little unwell
from my stroke of yesterday, and must retire early.”

“As my lord wishes, replied Mirim.

He stood watching them for a moment as they strove
to hide their disappointment in closer application to their
needlework, and a great pity for the cloistered women of
New Cuzco tugged at his heart. Then he bade them a
cheerful good night, heard their responses and went up-
stairs to his room.

THE SECRET KINGDOM

743

CHAPTER XIV,

Prisoners o£ Tupao

O N reaching the seclusion of his chamber, Bell
immediately sent for Tumb'a. After closing
and bolting the door, he told his faithful ser-
vant in simple terms the things which had befallen since
his arrival in the city. He was especially careful to im-
press upon the Indian the power, cunning and resources
of his enemy, the High Priest. He then disclosed his
intention of sending his guide on a scouting expedition
about the premises in search of lurking spies.

Tumba was eager to start at once, but Bell would not
let him go until shortly after midnight. In twenty min-
utes’ time, he was back in the room.

“Did you find any spies ?”

The scout held up one finger.

“Ah, you found one, did you? Where is he?”

“He dead,” replied Tumba in a matter-of-fact tone,
producing a sharp knife with a significant red stain in
the blood channel.

“You have been too hasty, boy. I did not want him
killed. I only wished to give him the slip. We must
throw the body over the cliff at once. If Tupac learns
that you have killed one of his men, we’ll be in a devil of
a mess.”

Tumba led the way to the body of the slain prowler.
Suddenly he stopped and laid his hand on Bell’s shoulder,
enjoining silence. They approached warily and saw that
two men were bending over the deceased, talking ex-
citedly in the Inca tongue. It appeared that they had
just discovered their companion and were endeavoring
to ascertain who had killed him. Bell heard one utter
a sentence in which were the words “Villac Vmu”, then
start off at a trot while the other stood guard over the
body.

“We must act quickly,” whispered Bell. “He is going
to warn the High Priest. ■ I guess we’ll have to get rid
of this fellow now. Think you can do it, Tumba?”

“Me get urn, all right. You walk straight up to um.
Me go other way.”

Bell waited until Tumba had a start of a few minutes,
then sauntered directly toward the spy without any
attempt to hide the sound of his approach. The man,
upon hearing him coming, crouched with knife in hand,
ready for deadly action. Bell advanced steadily, as if
totally unaware that he was being ambushed.

It was an old ruse, but it worked well. The spy, con-
centrating his attention on the approaching figure, neg-
lected to look elsewhere. The trap was sprung. The
knife of Tumba drank blood for the second time that
night, and soon each of them was dragging a body toward
the brink of the cliff.

After fifteen minutes of disagreeable and strenuous
labor, the two dead spies were disposed of. Master and
man hastened at once to the point above the cave.

Bell leaned over the cliff and called softly. There
was no answer. His heart leaped to his throat. What
could have happened to Nona? He called again. Then,
with a surge of relief, he heard her reply;

Swiftly preparing the rope, he made it fast to the
much-used grape vine, and was soon in the cave. After
an affectionate greeting, he prepared at once for Nona’s
departure, relating meanwhile the adventures of the
evening.

“We’ll have to work fast. I’m afraid,” he concluded.

“No doubt Tupac’s spy will have a young army down
upon us in a short time.”

He made the ascent in his customary manner and, with
the assistance of Tumlm, quickly lifted the girl to the
upper level. Then, coiling the rope about himself, as
formerly, he led the way toward New Cuzco, making a
detour in order to avoid possible reinforcements for the
High Priest’s snoopers, of whom he supposed there were
others holding his premises in furtive surveillance. When
they had i^assed through several plantations and all dan-
ger from attack seemed averted, he dismissed Tumba,
thinking that it would be better for them to reach the
palace unattended.

As they proceeded cautiously. Bell unfolded to Nona
the events which had taken place since he had hidden
her in the cave. She did not seem surprised when he
told her how he had unwittingly acquired the “Sextette”
at the very moment when he was congratulating himself
on having evaded matrimony by playing sick,

“Of course,” he hastened to add, “you know I will not
recognize this absurd ceremony in any way, other than
by permitting the girls to live in my home. Circum-
stances compel me to do that much.”

“I am sure that you couldn’t have done otherwise,”
replied the girl, “nor do I blame you in the least ; but the
thought of your having six wives, even though they be
wives in name only, is a rather disquieting one. I can’t
help feeling that some of them are going to fall in love
with you, in which case I shall become terribly jealous,
for they will employ all of the arts known to womankind
to win you — ^arts against which the strongest resolutions
may avail you nothing. The man who can resist the
wiles of a clever, beautiful woman is a rarity indeed.”

“I agree with you,” he replied, “nor do I claim that
immunity; for there is one woman on this great rolling
planet of ours who could easily twist me around her little
finger. But there have been, no others, nor shall there
ever be another. I need not name this one woman.”

For answer, she pressed his hand in the darkness.

“We should be pretty near the edge of town by now,”
said Bell. “I hope we haven’t come the wrong way.
What the ?”

Something whistled through the air and twined around
his legs. The momentum of his body threw him forcibly
to the ground. Rising somewhat awkwardly, he slipped
his sword from its sheath in time to face a half-dozen
men, who rushed in on them from all directions. He laid
about him savagely with the stout blade, well knowing
that this unequal fight could have but one end, while
Nona crouched on the ground beside him, almost para-
lyzed with fright.

He heard the whistling noise again and something
wound about his throat. Plampered as he was by the
close-wrapped bonds that pinioned his legs, he lost his
precarious balance. The back of his head smote the
hard earth with considerable force. Instantly a savage
was upon him.

Nona screamed with terror as she saw the Indian
plunge his knife into the breast of the prostrate man.
The fellow seemed bent on out-and-out murder. He had
raised the dagger to strike again when one of the am-
bushers, who seemed to be in command, caught his arm
and emitted a few sibilant words of admonition.

In a moment more, Bell and Nona were securely
bound. Each was placed on the back of a horse. They
were conveyed, not toward the city as they supposed
they would be, but directly away from it.

744 ■

AMAZING STORIES

Bell was weak and faint from the wound in his chest,
which throbbed with pain at every step of the horse.
Had it not been for the coils of rope about his body, the
knife would surely have pierced his heart. The tough
fiber had saved his life, temporarily at least.

What was it that had tripped him, and later encircled
his throat? Ah, yes. It must have been a bolas, a
peculiar sort of lasso or rather sling, used by the South
American Indians. Instead of a running noose, it was
equipped with two leaden balls, and these natives could
use it fully as effectively as the North American cowboy
throws his lariat.

They had journeyed for fully half an hour when the
leader turned into an enclosure and stopped before a
small adobe building. There were but two rooms in the
house. Bell was placed in one and Nona in the other. No
doubt their captors would send for the High Priest, he
thought, and this time there would be no chance of
escape. He would probably be tortured and killed, and
Nona. . . he shuddered at the fate in store for her.

He strained desperately at his bonds. Finding his
utmost efforts unavailing, he cursed and ground his
teeth in helpless rage.

CHAPTER XV
Fed to a Boa

S EVERAL hours after Bell and Nona had been
thrust into their adobe prison, the scientist heard
the sound of galloping horses and guessed that
Tupac had arrived. Someone opened the door of Nona’s
room. The agony and the fury of that moment seemed
to give him superhuman strength. The rope which held
his arms parted, and a moment later he had freed his
feet and was listening at the door.

He tried the fastening cautiously and it yielded beneath
his hand. Peering through the slender aperture, he made
out a group of men and horses a short distance away.
A single guard stood in front of the building. At the
moment, the fellow was faced away from the door,
carrying on a shouted conversation with one of his
companions who had charge of the horses.

Swiftly and silently Bell stole out. The door of Nona’s
prison chamber stood wide open, and he could see a
figure moving about within. An instant later, he recog-
nized the intruder as Tupac. Weaponless though he was,
due to the precautions taken by his captors. Bell sprang
at the throat of the High Priest, who gave vent to a
choking gasp as the white man bore him to the floor.

“What have you done with the girl?” he hissed.
“Tell me quickly, or you shall never speak again.”

Tupac rolled his eyes in terror and amazement.

“By the sacred locks of Chasca, I swear I have done
nothing with her. I have not even seen her,” he babbled.
“You lie, damn you, but this lie shall be your last!”
With this, he tightened his grip on the throat of the
Villac Vmu, thinking despairingly: “I cannot save her,
but I can at least avenge her.”

Then something struck him a crushing blow on the
back of the head, his grip relaxed and he lost conscious-
ness.

When he recovered his senses. Bell tried to peer about
him. Everywhere was inky darkness. Had he gone
blind? He rose unsteadily and groped here and there.
His hands came in contact with cold, .moist stone. Ex-
ploring with his fingers, he sensed the unmistakable touch

of metal, flat and with round projections at regular inter-
vals — a studded iron door, he decided. As nearly as he
could tell, the frame was about three feet wide. To
comprehend the scope of his quarters in this fashion
required but a short time. He was in a tiny cell not
more than six feet square, unfurnished save for the
low stone bench which he had octeupied. The place was
damp and musty and reeked with horrible odors. The
walls were slimy and seemed to ooze moisture. In view
of the slowness with which his giddiness and nausea were
abating, the captive judged that he probably had been
lying in a stupor for hours.

In a room situated about fifty feet above Bell’s dun-
geon, the High Priest was conversing amiably with one
of his henchmen.

“You say the boa is very savage, Ripac?”

“He has not been fed for two weeks, my lord. I
fully believe he would attack even a horse.”

“It is well. Let us get the white man.”

Ripac called two guards, and the four men descended
a winding stairway which terminated abruptly before an
iron door.

Bell had been listening to their approach. A moment
later, he heard the characteristic janglings which result
when a selection is made from a bunch of heavy keys;
then the grating of a rusty lock. The door was flung
open, admitting just enough light to assure him that he
still had the use of his eyes.

The presence of Tupac infuriated the prisoner, and
it was with difficulty that he restrained himself from leap-
ing at his enemy. Guards seized him by either arm.
Ripac led the way upstairs, while the High Priest brought
up the rear. When they reached the head of the stairs.
Bell balked.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked, “and by what
authority do you make prisoner a free subject of the
Inca?”

“You will learn soon enough. Do not pull back. To
resist is useless. I can summon a hundred men in an
instant,” and the Villac Vmu emphasized his speech by
prodding Bell with the sharp point of his sword.

They turned into a passageway, rather brightly lighted
with hanging oil lamps fashioned of metal, and halted'
before a narrow sliding door. Ripac produced a key
and opened the barrier a trifle. The High Priest peered
in, then quickly drew back as something struck from the
inside with great violence.

“He is growing anxious for the meal that awaits
him, Ripac. We must end the delay very shortly. It
is cruel to prolong the pangs of his hunger.”

“Just as you say, my lord. Shall we thrust this dirty
white meat in now?”

“In a moment. I would have a word with the carrion
first.” He turned to Bell. “Behind that door is a hungry
boa constrictor. No doubt you have seen boas in your
travels through Brazil, but I dare say you have never
beheld so mighty a reptile as this one. I understand
that you are a naturalist — that you take great interest in
the study of plants and animals. No doubt, if I were
to tell you that a boa could swallow a man, you would
take exception to my statement. This might lead to a
dispute, and disputes are distasteful to me. I prefer
proofs to arguments, always. You will therefore be
placed in this room with the gentle creature. If he
swallows you, I win the discussion. Should he be unable
to do so, I shall have to grant the correctness of your
viewpoint.

THE SECRET KINGDOM

“When he sinks his sharp fangs into your flesh, reflect
on the folly of a man who would steal the bride of the
Villac Vmu. As his coils tighten about you, first driving
the breath from your body, then crushing your bones
and finally reducing you to a soft, shapeless mass, repent
of that selfishness which led you to abduct the intended
wife of another man, although you yourself were to be
blessed with six wives.

“The boa, if he survives the filthy meal of which he is
about to partake, will be our wedding present to the
lady that heals. No doubt she will love him very dearly,
for your flesh shall become his flesh, and I am informed
that she has a strong affection for you.

“But enough. In with him, Ripac !”

The villainous Curaca, evidently much pleased at the
predicament of the man who had made him look like
such a sorry wrestling champion, smiled evilly and
stooped down to open the door. Bell wrenched one of
his arms free and with his liberated fist struck the other
guard to the floor. He ran swiftly down the hallway,
but only to encounter two more men.

He might have escaped even then, had it not been for
the fact that the High Priest blew a shrill whistle which
called a mob about him, against which he was unable
to hold out. He was dragged back by two husky Indians.
Ripac opened the door. A push from behind sent him
sprawling almost on the boa. The door clanged shut.

Tupac stood listening for a few moments to the strug-
gle going on behind the door. A look of gloating satis-
faction spread over his repulsive face. Then he strolled
leisurely away in a most pleasant frame of mind.

W HEN Bell had dismissed Tumba on the way to the
palace some hours before, the latter had not gone
back to the estate as his employer thought. Instead, he
had followed them at a distance.

He knew it was useless to take part in the fight when
Nona and Bell were attacked and captured. Neverthe-
less, he believed that he might in some way be able to
effect the release of the prisoners.

Upon seeing them placed in the adobe hut, he stole
around to the rear of the building in the hope of finding
a window or door unguarded, but there was no opening
of any kind. Feeling along the base of the wall, his hand
came in contact with a rat hole. The animals had dug
their way under. Why not he?

As Tumba had only his knife and his hands for ex-
cavating purposes, the labor was necessarily tedious and
would Jiave been most discouraging to a man of less
dogged persistence. He was handicapped, too, by having
to woik noiselessly, for the least sound would have be-
trayed his presence to the sentry on the other side.

Nona was lying in a semi-stupor on the floor, bound
hand and foot, when she was partially aroused by a gen-
tle scratching immediately behind her. She thought at
first that a colony of rats must be burrowing there, until
someone wliisjjered the name of Bell.

“Who is it ?” she answered guardedly, now thoroughly
alert.

“Me, Tumba, come save you. No be ’fraid.”

Quietly he slid through the opening and cut her bonds.
“Where Bell ?”

He is in the next room. Do you think you can dig
under the wall and get to him ?”

“Me try.”

^ With this, Tumba set to work industriously on the
dirt floor, Nona helping as best she couid.

745

Suddenly they heard a party of horsemen come up.
Tupac had arrived. Tumba ceased his digging.

“No time get Bell now. Come.”

He pulled her through the small opening, only a few
seconds before the High Priest entered the room. The
pair immediately started off in the direction of the city,
taking care, however, to avoid the route by which they
had come.

Arriving finally at the palace, Nona determined to
make a clean breast of the whole affair to the Inca and
implore him to rescue her lover.

He granted her a private audience and listened to her
story with his usual Sphinx-like expression. She made
no mention of the cave, but merely stated that Bell had
hidden her on his plantation, after frustrating the ab-
duction plans of the brutal Villac Vmu.

In spite of his unperturbed expression, the Inca was
none the less inwardly indignant at the atrocities of
Tupac. By his order, a party of horsemen was dis-
patched under the guidance of Tumba to rescue Bell from
the adobe hut. They returned with the tidings that a
careful search, not alone of the building but of the sur-
rounding area as well, had proved absolutely fruitless.

Nona was frantic. She besought Huayna Capac to
send an order to the Villac Vmu for her lover’s im-
mediate release. The messenger came hurrying back
with the news that Tupac had left the mountain on a
hunting expedition, and that no one in his house knew
anything about Bell.

By this time, the Inca was nearly as concerned about
the American as was Nona. He dispatched men to
search the city as well as every other spot on the entire
mountain top.

It was Nona’s opinion that the High Priest had taken
Bell with him when he had gone on his hunting trip.
The Inca thought this improbable, but put her theory
to the test by sending a cavalry squad in pursuit.

A day and a night of fruitless search ensued, during
which time Nona neither ate nor slept. The monarch
caused heralds to go throughout the kingdom proclaim-
ing cessation of the morning audiences until further
notice, and devoted his attention to directing the quest
for the scientist. On the second morning, Tupac re-
turned with the Inca’s men.

He admitted that he had taken Bell to his home.
Pressed for further particulars, he added that the white
Curaca had been left in the custody of Ripac with in-
structions to hold him prisoner.

“Since when has Ripac turned warder of your private
dungeons?” asked the Inca with as much of scorn as
he ever permitted to show in his voice.

The High Priest averted his eyes and muttered an
unintelligible reply. Plis haughty self-assurance re-
turned to him promptly, however.

“Your Majesty,” he said with dignity, “I have but
exercised my lawful prerogative in this matter. The
white Curaca is said to be a breeder of sedition. It was
with the utmost regret that I ordered his detention, in
view of Your Majesty’s graciousness toward him. Still,

I saw my duty as a protector of the realm and acted
accordingly. My men have orders to treat him with
the greatest courtesy, pending investigation of the serious
charges which have been lodged against him.”

“Peace,” replied the Inca. “Our present interest is in
finding our lost citizen.”

{Continued on page 755)

A ^ale of the

MoSn Woman

By Minna Irving

OST of our authors, thus far, have been more or less pessimistic of the
future. Just why this should be so, we cannot say. Our new author, how-
ever, shows nothing of that fear. Rather, she sees a considerable amount of im-
provement several thousand years hence. Even effectual communication with an-
other planet does not phase her. If the problem of indefinite suspended anima-
tion could be solved, we wonder how many people would lend themselves to
such an experiment, even with all chances in their favor.

W e are sure you will agree with us when we say *‘The Moon Woman’’ is a
beautiful story.

vuture

Illustrated by WALLIT

In a Winged World

P ROFESSOR JAMES HOLLOWAY HICKS
was thirty-five when he discovered the wonder-
ful serum of suspended animation. By inject-
ing this marvelous fluid into the veins, a living
body became practically dead and remained so
for a certain length of time without undergoing the
processes of decay.

When the serum ceased to act, the apparently dead
man would revive and take up the thread of life again
where he left it, and as well as ever. The period of sus-
pended animation was governed by the quantity of
serum injected into the blood.

Professor Hicks had repeatedly demonstrated the
perfect success of his great discovery on dogs, cats, rab-
bits, mice, and even on horses, but for obvious reasons
had failed to find a human subject. Though he offered
a large reward to any man or woman willing to be “made
dead” for six months or a year, no one could be found
courageous enough to risk it. Even would-be suicides
shied at the test, preferring to travel to the next world
on a high-speed ticket, or by the popular gas-route, to
taking chances with an unknown drug, which might for
all any one knew (even Professor Hicks himself) bind
the body in the chains of pseudo death but leave the
brain alive — truly a frightful condition to contemplate.
So after vainly advertising for a subject, and even

canvassing the park benches at night in the hope of per-
suading some wretched creature to lend himself to the
glorious cause of science, the professor decided to try
it on himself.

One blustery March night found him seated in his
handsomely appointed library ready for an excursion in
death. Opposite him sat his friend. Dr. Horace Blink-
man, and upon the carved teakwood table between the
two men lay the black box containing the serum in a
small vial and a little hypodermic syringe filled for the
supreme test.

Outside in the bittir wind the professor’s luxurious
limousine waited at a side door to bear him away to his
temporary tomb.

Professor Hicks was clothed in a long, loose robe of
fine white woolen stuff, fleeced inside with lambs-wool
of a sufficient thickness to protect his inanimate body
from freezing hard in winter in the damp cold atmos-
phere of the marble mausoleum which he had built es-
pecially for this great experiment.

His affairs had been put in order a few days before,
and in case of his death occurring through any unfore-
seen contingency, such as some unsuspected freak of
the serum, he had made a will leaving his entire fortune
to Dr. Blinkman. The doctor needed it ; his own scien-
tific experiments had drained his pockets without adding
to his reputation, and more than one loan-shark and
pawnbroker was acquainted with his shuffling step and

746

To the professor's amazement, she floated up to the roof like a bird or a gigantic
kutterfly. From her shoulder blades extended broad ’wings of a glistening, semi-
transparent, membranous material

747

748

AMAZING STORIES

slovenly figure. He had borrowed heavily, too, from
Hicks, and had been living on the professor’s bounty
for months.

The clock struck twelve — the hour appointed for the
experiment to begin. Professor Hicks rolled up his
loose woolen sleeve, revealing a white and muscular
forearm, and Dr. Blinkman picked up the fateful hypo-
dermic and poised it above the large vein at the wrist.

“Two punctures,” instructed the professor calmly,
“each injection will last for six months. A year will
pretty thoroughly prove to the world the immense value
of my serum. You are to occupy this house during my
absence. One year from tonight at exactly twelve o’clock
you will come to the mausoleum with my attorney, one
other gentlemen of science chosen by yourself, and sev-
eral members of the press to witness my triumphant
resurrection. Now goodby.”

Dr. Blinkman gripped the professor’s extended hand,
jabbed the needle twice in his wrist and the thing was
done.

“I will compose my limbs on the davenport,” remarked
the professor, “so .that you may be better able to observe
the action of the serum, and take careful notes.”

He stretched himself upon the richly upholstered
couch and crossed his hands upon his breast. A valu-
able ruby on his little finger winked malevolently in the
clear flood of light from the electrolier. Already a
deathly pallor was stealing over his smooth-shaven
cheek, and his eyes were fast losing their accustomed
brilliance.

“I feel as though my limbs were going to sleep,” he
murmured drowsily, “there is a prickling sensation all
over me, and a numbness. Horace, I — am — so — sleepy.”

His voice died away in a whisper, his faint respira-
tions became slower and slower, and at 12:15 he was to
all appearances stone-dead.

Dr. Blinkman closed his ancient silver watch with a
snap and laid his hand upon the professor’s brow; it
was damp and cold. He lifted one of his hands and it
dropped limply from his clasp. He held a small pocket-
mirror to the blue lips and the clear surface of the glass
remained undimmed. There was no pulse, and not the
faintest flutter of the heart could be detected. Any
coroner in the land would have pronounced Professor
Hicks as dead as a door-nail.

D r. blinkman stood regarding the inert form
with knitted brows. What if he were really dead?
It would mean great things to him, all this ease and
luxury would be his as the professor’s sole heir. Yet he
knew the apparently lifeless man before him was not
dead. He knew he would return to life at the ap-
pointed time. He had assisted at too many experiments
with the serum on animals to doubt it. His own setter
dog had been dead and was alive again none the worse
for three weeks siesta in the professor’s laboratory. The
vial glittering on the table caught his eye.

What if he should administer a little more — enough
to make the professor sleep a little longer, say five or
ten years? That would leave him in undisturbed enjoy-
ment of this splendid mansion and the income from cer-
tain stocks and bonds long enough to complete some ex-
periments he had under way, and so put him on his feet
in the scientific world. Professor Hicks would think
his reckoning had been wrong.

But would he ? Had he not proved the exact duration
of the serum too many times to be fooled? The pro-

fessor was a “square man,” loathing deceit, despising
trickery, and utterly incapable of a dishonorable action
himself.

He would denounce him without mercy if he played
any tricks on him.. He remembered, too, that each
puncture must be made in a different place, and the tiny
scars would reveal his perfidy.

The doctor paced the room, his hands clasped behind
him, black temptation wrestling with his soul,

A year of this luxury, and then to return to his dingy
lodgings in Harlem with their faded brown curtains,
worn leather chairs, and tattered rugs ; once more to be
hounded by the loan-sharks, to make furtive rounds of
the dusty pawn-shops again, to beg for time from the
slatternly landlady — his whole being revolted at the
thought of it all.

It would be lifting a man into Heaven for a brief
time, then plunging him into the depths of Hell forever.

His bloodshot eyes raged over the de luxe editions that
lined the walls on three sides, the costly desk-fittings,
the rare bronzes, the marble figures guarding the door-
way with its sweeping curtains of heavy brocade. He
gazed at the humidor with its expensive cigars ; his mind
traveled to the cobwebbed bottles in the cellars, the gray
limousine with its Turkish upholstery and silver vase
always filled with fresh flowers now waiting outside,
and from the bottom of his treacherous heart he fer-
vently wished the still form on the davenport was really
dead, that all these luxuries might be his, not for a few
fleeting months but for as long as he lived.

It would be easy to inject any one of the deadly
poisons in the laboratory into the veins of the uncon-
scious man, and the long sleep would become the sleep
of death.

But each poison left its damning evidence behind, and
murder is an ugly word. He was ghastly pale, beads of
sweat glistened on his forehead and his knees shook
under him.

He picked up the vial of serum, trying to guess the -
operative power of the fluid it still contained. The oily
stuff gave off an opalescent shimmer as he turned it
this way and that in his trembling fingers.

Within that tiny crystal cylinder lay his future. It
would not be murder — not if all Professor Hicks claimed
for it was true. The professor would simply sleep on
for a number of years, ten or twenty according to the
amount administered, and wake up at the end of that
time safe and sound with all his faculties unimpaired.
Meantime he would revel in the luxuries he coveted, and
would have the means and leisure to conduct the costly
experiments in cancer-cure that he felt sure would bring
him fame and fortune.

He picked up the little syringe and crossed to the
quiet form on the couch. Blinkman had no clear idea
of the quantity that should be injected to produce a
quarter of a century of suspended animation, and he
was too agitated to figure it out, but when he folded back
the professor’s sleeve and made half a dozen punctures,
he felt dissatisfied. Perhaps it would only last four or
five years and the professor would wake up and be
furious — for every little scar would be a witness against
him.

He had already gone too far now to draw back, so
he determined to make sure and use all of the stuff
in the vial.

He filled and refilled the syringe, jabbing wildly at the
professor’s arms and legs until the last drop was gone.

THE MOON WOMAN

749

Then with a sigh he sank down in the big velvet chair
and stared dumbly at the seemingly dead body before
him.

Was he dead? Perhaps he had been from the first.

His muscles were so rigid, his flesh so clammily cold,
already the violet shadows of dissolution lay beneath
his closed eyes. The doctor shuddered and reached for a
bracer of brandy.

A bell jangled sharply in the silence. He staggered
to his feet and passed into the hall, throwing a fearful
glance over his shoulder as he went; it. was hard to be-
lieve it was not a dead man stretched out on the daven-
port.

He flung open the door and admitted the professor’s
attorney, Mr. Lecky, who was to accompany the body
to the mausoleum and see it properly installed within.

“Is everything ready?” he inquired brusquely after a
cold nod to Dr. Blinkman. He was a man of stern
common sense and had opposed as strongly as he dared
the experiment which he frankly characterized as “a
crack-brained freak.”

“I have been awaiting your arrival for almost an
hour,” returned the doctor smoothly as he led the way
to the library, “the serum has acted beautifully, and
Professor Hick’s discovery is a monumental success.”

Mr. Lecky gazed down at the recumbent form with a
look of profound disgust, yielding to pity :

“Are you sure he is not dead ?” he asked sharply.

Dr. Blinkman turned his head away under pretense of
closing the black box. He could not meet those search-
ing eyes. A sense of guilt overwhelmed him, but he
managed to retain his cool professional manner.

“Our distinguished friend,” he replied suavely, “has
already no doubt fully explained to you the effects of the
serum upon the living body. It is suspended animation,
my dear Mr. Lecky, suspended animation, that is all.
He can neither hear, feel, think, taste, move nor speak;
at the present moment all the organs have suspended
their functions ; he is insensible to heat or cold, hunger
or thirst. His system needs no fuel because there is no
waste, but he is not dead. But had we not better be
on the way? We have a long, cold ride before us.”

He took from a chair where they had been laid in
readiness by the professor himself a long black cloak
and soft felt hat of the same somber hue. The helpless
scientist was closely enveloped in the folds of the cloak,
the soft hat was pulled well down over his head so that
his rigid white face was concealed under the broad brim,
and the two men supported him between them to the
limousine so cleverly that to the waiting chauffeur his
master appeared in the dim light to be walking in his
usual fashion between his friends.

He was lifted into the car and placed in an upright
position on the rear seat. The doctor and the lawyer
placed themselves with their backs to the driver, and
the limousine rolled smoothly and almost noiselessly out
of the stone gateway and turned northward in the de-
serted road.

Never did either of those two men forget that night
ride. The full moon was veiled with thin clouds and a
light snow had fallen earlier in the evening. From its
purity the black ruts in the road stood out in bold relief.
No living thing was abroad, not even a dog barked, and
all the houses were dark. The wayside bushes powdered
with snow rushed to meet them like sheeted ghosts in
the headlight of the car, sjjed by them, and vanished in
the gloom.

Professor Hicks had built his mausoleum of sleep on
the top of a hill in a grove of cedars. Thick woods and
rocky pastures sloped steeply down from it on all sides,
and an abandoned cemetery at the bottom completed the
profound desolation of the spot.

At the foot of the hill the car stopped, the two men
got out and carefully lifted the stiff form to the ground,
still supporting it between them.

T hat morning the professor had summoned his
chauffeur to him in the library, and had said:
“Stewart, I am going to Europe for a year. Dr. Blink-
man will reside here during my absence, and will take
charge of everything. You are to take your orders from
him, but look to Mr. Lecky for your wages. Bring the
car round to the side door tonight at midnight, as I am
going to the house of a friend up in the country who
will entrust me with a rare and delicate culture to de-
liver for him at a laboratory in Paris. I will, therefore,
go directly from his house to the steamer tomorrow, so
you will return without me. Dr. Blinkman and Mr.
Lecky will accompany me tonight, however, and you
will bring them back here. I am explaining these matters
to you so that you will understand why I do not return
with them.

“I will say goodby to you now, Stewart, as I will have
other things to occupy me tonight.”

Thus had the professor paved the way for the mid-
night journey to the mausoleum, and nipped in the bud
any suspicion of foul play that might have been born of
the peculiar circumstances under which he was to dis-
appear.

“Wait here,” said Dr. Blinkman to the chauffeur,
“there is no road up to the house on this side, only a
short cut through the woods. We will be back in half
an hour.”

While in sight of the furred figure on the front seat
of the limousine, the men went slowly with the professor
slightly in advance propelled by their hands on his shoul-
ders. The chauffeur paused in the act of lighting a
cigarette to watch the three dark figures :

“Now I wonder what the legal guy has to do with this
trip? Gee! doctors are all nuts.”

Once behind the shelter of the thick bushes and low-
hanging branches, the two men picked up the professor
by the head and feet and carried him swiftly up the
hillside.

It was a stiff climb to the mausoleum, and they laid
their burden down on the marble steps and stood gasp-
ing for breath, and wiping the sweat from their flushed
faces, though the night was cold.

Neither spoke, an invisible finger of silence seemed
laid upon their lips. The mausoleum was a magnificent
structure, perfectly round in shape with a row of fluted
pillars supporting the overhanging roof. It was encir-
cled by a flight of shallow marble steps, and bronze bas-
reliefs, typifying the immortality of the soul, formed
eight panels set deeply in the walls. The domed roof
was flattened at the top to receive a thick glass skylight
which was protected by an iron grill-work set in a leaden
frame. The bronze door swung outward, and was sup-
plemented by an inner door of iron studded with brass
nails. Ventilation was supplied by slits in the walls
close to the roof, and cunningly concealed in the pattern
of the ornate frieze.

As the doors creaked open. Dr. Blinkman involun-
tarily shrank back from the pitch-black interior, but

750

AMAZING STORIES

Lecky, more self-possessed or perhaps less imaginative,
stepped into the inky chamber and felt along the wall
until he found the electric light button. Instantly a flood
of soft radiance poured down upon the place and
streamed out across the marble steps on the dark form
huddled there.

The floor was paved with blocks of black and white
marble. In the center stood a bronze sarcophagus lined
with softly padded white velvet. The sarcophagus was
of unusual size; at the head was a pillow of white vel-
vet for the professor’s head to rest upon, and at the foot
an air-tight metal box containing food-tabloids and a
bottle of champagne.

A bronze canopy supported on iron rods sheltered the
sarcophagus and completely concealed the open interior
from any inquisitive person who might climb to the roof
and look down through the skylight. Heavy metallic
fringes depended from this canopy all around.

Gently, almost reverently the two men laid Professor
Hicks in his gruesome bed, arranged the velvet pillow
beneath his head, straightened his white robe and threw
the black cloak across the foot of the sarcophagus like
a pall. A duplicate key was left by his side in case the
effects of the serum should wear off sooner than ex-
pected.

The light was then turned off and the doctor and
lawyer stepped out side by side into the chill March
morning, closing and locking the heavy doors behind
them. The cold light of a struggling moonbeam pierced
the clouds and fell across the marble steps as they turned
once to look back ; all else was in blackest shadow.

One Year Later

A YEAR had passed since the March night when
Professor Hicks had been secretly laid away in
the marble mausoleum on the lonely hilltop.
Dr. Blinkman again sat in the library awaiting the arrival
of Mr. Lecky and the representatives of the press.

With him was Professor Perkins, alert, keen-eyed,
bubbling over with scepticism. “Mark my words,” he
cried, “you will find that I am right, and our learned
friend has been another martyr to the great cause of
science. Dear me! where do the others stay? It is
time we were off.”

“I sent the car to the 8:15 to meet Mr. Lecky,” re-
plied the doctor,” and the correspondents will also come
up by that train. They should all be here together in a
few minutes now.”

Dr. Blinkman had improved with a year of easy living.
His form had taken on flesh, his face a ruddy color, and
his manner the pomposity of one accustomed to com-
mand. He had no fear of the result of the night’s trip
to the mausoleum; he felt sure that Hicks was dead
months ago of too much serum. He had tried heavy
doses repeatedly on animals in the interim, and while they
had lain without any signs of decay for a week or month,
according to the dose, at the end of that time all had
given indisputable evidence that they were dead. He
had even kept several until the odor became unbearable,
desiring to convince himself beyond all doubt that the
serum was fatal in large doses.

All his experiments had set his mind at rest. To-
morrow everything would be his, he thought exultantly
as the blare of a motor-horn announced Mr. Lecky’s
arrival.

The lawyer was soon followed by a hired touring-car

containing the special correspondents who had been in-
vited to the “resurrection.”

After some light refreshments and a hasty explana-
tion from Mr. Lecky regarding the nature of the pro-
fessor’s experiment,, the entire party was on the road
to the mausoleum within the hour.

The night was clear and cold, the sky studded with
millions of stars and the earth blanketed with a heavy
fall of snow. Stewart, hunched down in the front of
the limousine with his gloved hands on the wheel and
the speed limit off, was turning matters over in his
mind :

“Darn funny,” he was thinking, “this trip out in the
woods again same time as last year, with all these strange
guys along too. Something I don’t understand. These
professors are all crazy anyhow, but Hicks was a good
old scout. Wish he’d come back and give this Blinkman
bozo the air.” ^

Thus ruminating, he arrived at the foot of the hill
with the hired car close behind, and the whole party
piled out in the snow, and started to climb the narrow
path Indian file, leaving the chauffeurs to gossip and
smoke.

Not a footprint of man or beast had broken the smooth
snow on the circular steps. The strange edifice rose
glimmering from the snows that banked it and hooded
it, white, cold, silent, a fit waiting-room on the mys-
terious route to eternity. Ice had filled the lock of the
bronze outer door and had to be thawed out with matches
before the key could be inserted. A reporter who car-
ried an electric flash-light threw the beam on the lock
and the rest stood grouped at the bottom of the steps,
all eyes and ears and shivering with cold and expectancy.
By tacit consent, as the great door swung slowly out-
ward, Dr. Blinkman, Professor Perkins, and the news-
paper men dropped back to let Mr. Lecky enter first.
As on his first visit the preceding year he pressed the
button in the wall and the electric light streamed down
upon the interior from the rows of bulbs around the
skylight.

Everything was exactly as it was left twelve months
before.

One by one the awe-stricken men stepped softly in and
gathered round the sarcophagus, staring down wide-
eyed upon the white face of Professor Hicks. No change
had taken place in those frozen features ; there were no
indications of decay and neither were there any signs
of life. To all appearances he was still a dead man —
and the hands of Mr. Lecky’s watch pointed to ten
minutes after midnight.

The professor was overdue on his journey back from
oblivion.

No one moved, no one spoke, every eye was riveted
unwinkingly upon the rigid form stretched out under
the bronze canopy, every heart beat madly with sus-
pense, and teeth chattered like castanets with excitement
and the deadly cold of the tomb.

“One o’clock,” said Professor Perkins at last as he
pocketed his watch. “Supposing Professor Hicks’
theory of his serum to have been correct, perhaps it
would be as well to assist returning circulation by rub-
bing the extremities. Let us remove him from his present
resting-place to the floor.”

So the poor professor who had sacrificed himself on
the altar of science was tenderly lifted from his huge
bronze coffin, and for more than an hour the men took
turns at rubbing his icy hands and feet, and working

THE MOON WOMAN

751

his stiff arms up and down like pump-handles; at the
end of that time, and after every test known to medical
science had been applied, Professor Perkins sadly pro-
nounced him to be dead.

He was restored to the sarcophagus, the long black
cloak was again thrown over him, this time to conceal
his face, and Mr. Lecky, turning to the horrified group,
spoke briefly and solemnly:

“I have already explained to you, gentlemen of the
press,, the fact that we are obeying the instructions of the
late Professor Hicks in gathering here tonight. He
made an heroic experiment in the interest of science and
it has failed. On my return to my office tomorrow, I
will hand you the explanation of this most lamentable
affair as prepared by him to be given to the world in the
event of just what has happened — his death. In view of
the peculiar circumstances surrounding his demise, I
think you will all agree with me that a second burial
would be a mockery, and that we cannot do better than to
leave him here to the long sleep, from which we are now
convinced he will never wake in the flesh.”

Slowly, solemnly, the silent company passed out, the
great door clanged shut for the last time, and the mauso-
leum’s quiet occupant was left to await the resurrection
dawn.

The Awakening

I N the dew of the early morning a young woman
alighted in the cedar grove surrounding the ruined
mausoleum where Professor James Holloway Hicks
had lain for two hundred years. Her bare white feet
were thrust into sandals of snowy leather, her superb
form was clothed only in a scant garment of thin white
silk that only reached to her dimpled knees and left her
arms and shoulders uncovered. , Her glorious golden
hair was confined by a fillet of silver studded with tur-
quoises, and anklets and armlets of the same jeweled
metal tinkled and clinked musically as she walked or
rather glided forward.

Suspended from a thick gold chain about her neck
dangled a cylinder about two inches long and of a dull
green substance. From her shoulder-blades extended
broad wings of a glittering, semi-transparent, mem-
braneous material, and these beautiful wings she folded
as her feet touched the ground — apparently without voli-
tion just as a bird folds its pinions when it alights, but
really by touching a small protuberance set in a belt of
white leather that crossed her full bosom.

She looked around her, and her eyes caught the gleam
of marble through the trees. Stooping, she touched the
backs of her sandals and immediately a pair of little
wheels sprang out under the soles; on these she rolled
smoothly and rapidly toward the crumbling tomb. Rain
had stained its purity, sun and wind had cracked and
crumbled the cement that held the marble blocks to-
gether ; many of the columns had fallen and were buried
in weeds and debris, and the walls were half submerged
in a rising tide of soil, only the upper half of the bronze
door remaining above the ground.

“It is a temple of the dead,” she exclaimed delightedly,
“and none are supposed to be in existence now. Oh,
what a find! Grandfather must come here tomorrow
and explore it. He may find some priceless relic of the
old, old barbaric times, or new material for his film on
‘Ancient Customs of a Wingless World.’ ”

Her curiosity was aroused and she circled the ruined
mausoleum slowly on her wheeled sandals, looking for a

crack or a peep-hole in the walls, but solid marble con-
fronted her. Determined to find some fissure through
which she could see the interior, she spread her majestic
white wings and rose above the roof, where she hung
poised in the sunlight, gazing down upon the fragments
of the iron grill-work still adhering to the leaden frame.
The sheet of glass beneath it had long ago dropped and
been shattered on the bronze canopy below.

The winged woman had a good view of the inside of
the mausoleum through the broken skylight, and she
studied the bronze canopy-top with increasing interest,
trying to conjecture what it could conceal.

Resolving to find out and reap the glory of a first dis-
covery, she alighted on the roof and removed the frag-
ments of iron still projecting around the edges of the
opening. The air that arose from within was cool and
sweet. She measured with her eye the distance from the
roof to the flat top of the canopy beneath. She could
not make use of her wings in squeezing through the nar-
row skylight, and the canopy appeared to be as solid as
the marble walls. Seizing the sides of the aperture, she
fearlessly lowered herself through it until she hung by
her hands, then let herself drop.

When 150 pounds of solid, healthy womanhood struck
the top of the canopy exactly in the middle, the metallic
supports snapped like so many pipe-stems and the whole
structure heeled over like a full-rigged ship in a squall,
and spilled her on the floor, where she sat half stunned
by the fall and afraid to move.

The floor was deep with fine gray dust mingled with
shreds of black near the great sarcophagus. The canopy
had toppled to one side clear of the bronze coffin, which
now stood fully revealed. All around her on the floor
were little reddish heaps of rust like gouts of dry blood
where the metallic fringes had fallen. She had dis-
covered the sarcophagus had no lid and was so frightened
at the thought of the horrible unknown dead thing within
it, that she was about to unfold her wings and try to
scramble out through the roof again when a sound
broke the profound stillness and robbed her of strength
to stir.

It was a long, fluttering sigh.

She closed her eyes in helpless terror.

When after at least ten minutes of absolute silence she
ventured to open them again, a large white hand was
dangling over the side of the sarcophagus.

She sat staring at it, mute, paralyzed, waiting for the
dead to rise and destroy her for having dared to invade
the sanctity of the tomb. Then a dark head appeared
and a pair of broad shoulders, and a man sat up and
looked stupidly around him.

His eyes wandered slowly round the bare, windowless
walls, and rested on the beautiful intruder. He spoke in
a thick, hoarse whisper, articulating the words with
difficulty like a child first learning to talk:

“Who are you?”

Though trembling with fear, she understood him at
once and answered timidly but clearly:

“I am Rosaria. Please don’t hurt me.”

The man continued to gaze at her for some time in
silence, evidently pondering deeply over some problem
he could not grasp, but when she made a motion to rise,
he spoke again, hurriedly but in a clearer voice than at
first:

“Don’t, I beg of you. Remain where you are, my
dear young lady, I am — er — not — er exactly present-
able.”

752

AMAZING STORIES

S OMEHOW his tones sounded more natural now, and
she sank back to her sitting posture on the dusty
floor obediently, but wondering, fearful that this “dead”
man was half bones and so objected to being seen in a
skeleton state. She was too amazed at this weird tete-a-
tete to be frightened now.

The truth was that a quick downward glance had re-
vealed to the professor the scandalous fact that he was
clothed only in a layer of dust and a few tattered shreds
of his silk undergarments. It was a most embarrassing
situation to say the least, but probably it did more to
shock his dormant senses into their normal activity than
anything else could have done.

Professor Hicks was a very modest man.

The fair Rosaria was next to break the silence :

“You are dead, are you not?” she asked gravely.
“But I never knew that the dead could speak. This must
be why we disperse them, so they cannot talk to us and
bother us about their affairs.”

“Dead!” cried the professor, his voice still a trifle
husky, but growing stronger every minute as the return-
ing flood of life swept through his veins. “I am not
dead, Fm very much alive. I have not the faintest idea
who you are or why you are here, but, no doubt, you can
tell me why Dr. Blinkman and Mr. Lecky are not here
at my awakening. Perhaps I have recovered conscious-
ness too soon — or have I been longer than I expected
to be? My robe must have been destroyed by moths —
something I should certainly have guarded against.”

The winged woman heard him through attentively,
and at once grasped his meaning. “I do not know your
friends,” she declared, “but evidently you have over-
slept yourself. Why did you come to a place like this to
sleep, an old-time temple of the dead, probably the only
one left on earth; our dead have been dispersed now
for many generations.”

Professor Hicks gasped, and in his agitation almost
forgot his nudity and came near to leaping out of the
sarcophagus.

“Generations!” he almost shrieked. “Good Heavens,
girl ! how long have I been here ? What year is this ?”
“This,” said Rosaria, “is the 10th of June 3014.”

For five minutes the professor remained actually dumb
with amazement. Then his voice rang out in a hoarse
cry of mingled astonishment and triumph:

“The serum! the serum! it is more powerful than I
thought. I can bridge the centuries for the human race.
I can make man almost immortal. Animation has been
suspended in me for two hundred years.”

He suddenly realized that he was hungry: two hun-
dred years is a pretty long time between meals for a full-
grown man. He felt for the metal box of tabloids that
had been placed at his feet. The hinges were gone from
the lid, which had fallen off, and the tabloids were merely
pinches of powder. He picked up the bottle of cham-
pagne, struck off the neck on the side of the sarcophagus,
and drank thirstily. The wine was flat and sour, but it
moistened his' dry throat and parched tongue most
acceptably.

Something heavy and cold fell against his naked side ;
it was the key to the door of the mausoleum.

“Now my dear Miss Rosaria,” he said, “I am placed in
a very peculiar position, which I will be able to explain
to your entire satisfaction when I am a little stronger.
Can you not procure me some clothes and something to
cat so that I can leave this terrible place? Here is the
key to the door.”

He lifted the great key and threw it at her feet.

But Rosaria shook her head :

“The key is no use,” she said, “the door is half under-
ground now. You can escape the way that I entered,
through that hole in the roof.”

He glanced round at the walls which had enclosed him
for two long centuries and shuddered:

“I cannot possibly go out in this condition, I must have
something to wear, and I am terribly impatient to breathe
the free air and walk on good old terra firma again.”

Rosaria sprang to her feet :

“I will go at once,” she cried, “do you wait here until
my return. I will fly back within the hour.”

As she stood up, she unfolded her white, glistening
wings in such a way as to form a screen between herself
and the shrinking man who was vainly trying to hide
himself in the bottom of the bronze box. To the pro-
fessor’s amazement, she floated up to the roof like a bird
or a gigantic butterfly. Seizing the edge of the opening
in her strong white hands, she deftly furled her wings
while Hicks stared, open-mouthed, and raising herself
through the aperture, spread them quickly again and
soared up, up against the blue sky, until he could see
her no longer.

“The human race has developed wings like the angels
since I retired from the world,” mused the professor,
“Many marvelous things must have happened while I
slept.”

He fairly trembled in his eagerness to leave the mauso-
leum and see for himself the progress the world had
made.

He rose, stretched himself, clambered over the side of
the sarcophagus and stood with his bare feet in the dust
of centuries. He walked over and pressed the electric
light button near the door; the button fell off in his
hand. He gazed overhead at the patch of blue sky and
saw what he took to be a large bird pass swiftly across
it; later he learned it was a man flying.

Soon after he heard something on the roof and darted
behind the fallen canopy, which afforded an excellent
screen. Rosaria appeared at the opening and dropped a
bundle through it. The professor crawled out from be-
hind the canopy, grabbed it and scurried back to shelter.
The bundle contained a garment of purple silk reaching
to his ankles, a pair of white leather sandals with what
looked like flat buttons at the heels and little folded fans
under the soles, and two long ribbed contrivances at-
tached to^ broad pieces of leather.

He could not imagine what they were intended for,
and after pushing and pulling them, trying to shut them
up and spread them open, he finally threw them aside
in disgust and attired himself in the robe and sandals.

When he was dressed he shouted boldly: “Miss
Rosaria ! Miss Rosaria !”

There was a swish overhead and the winged woman
knelt at the opening and looked in.

“I dropped on that broken thing over there when I
came in. You see there is no room for me to use my
wings, the aperture is too small. I could use them going
out because I could catch hold of the edge with one hand
and fold them up with the other before I climbed
through. But I can’t, coming down. I’ll have to hold
on by both hands and drop. It is too far to the floor, so
you must stand up in the box and catch me. Only be
careful not to break my wings.”

Wonderingly, the professor climbed back in his bronze
coffin again, stood up to his full height and stretched out

THE MOON WOMAN

753

his arms. Fortunately, the roof was not very high and
he could reach her ankles with his hands. So she rested
her pretty sandaled feet on his palms to steady herself
before she let go. The professor made a valiant effort
to catch her, but staggered under her weight and both
fell in the bottom of the sarcophagus. With that white
and gold bundle of womanhood in his arms, the pro-
fessor suddenly felt how silly all his crucibles and retorts
and serums had been. He could not even remember the
formula of the serum of suspended animation, and he
didn’t care if he never remembered it now ; it had served
its glorious purpose, it had bridged the centuries between
him and this super-girl, who was winged like an angel,
and he felt that he was through with all that had been
so important to him two hundred years ago.

For the first time in his two hundred and thirty-five
years, the professor was in love.

Laughing, but not in the least embarrassed, the re-
markable Rosaria disentangled herself from the pro-
fessor’s arms and sprang lightly out upon the floor.

“Oh !” she exclaimed, “where are your wings ? Why
didn’t you put them on ?”

“My wings?” said the bewildered professor feebly,
“I have no wings, my dear Miss Rosaria. Nobody had
wings in my time.”

“No,” she said calmly, “I don’t suppose they were in-
vented then. Eat your lunch and afterwards I will help
you put them on.”

From a silver box delicately enameled in colors hang-
ing from her wrist by a slender chain, she produced a
number of small vials bearing tiny labels, and filled with
differently colored liquids.

Rosaria enumerated the various edibles as she handed
him these vials :

“Roast beef, wheat, chicken salad, cheese, potatoes,
oranges, coffee and wine. These,” she explained, “are
extracts of the essences of the foods and drinks I have
just named. By reducing them to the actual concen-
trated essences necessary to nourish the human system,
we avoid taking waste matter into our stomachs. We
have thus eliminated a great deal of unnecessary work
and solved the servant trouble and expense that used to
be such a great source of annoyance to our grandmothers.
The kitchen range and sink have disappeared with the
butler’s pantry and the storeroom. There are no meat-
markets, no grocery-stores, no dairies ; everything we eat
and drink is prepared by the government laboratories
and sold in drug stores. A year’s supply of food for a
family of eight persons may be kept in a small cellarette.”

By this time the professor had swallowed his lunch.
While he felt sustained and wonderfully strengthened by
the essences, at the same time it seemed too much like
taking medicines to be enjoyable.

R osaria now assisted the professor to strap on his
wings with the broad leather belt, explaining as
she did so, that they were controlled by a tiny spring on
the breast which turned on or off at will the electrical
current drawn from the body of the wearer, which also
controlled the action of the wings. It was all so beau-
tifully simple, the professor wondered why nobody had
thought of it before the clumsy airplane of his time was
invented. With a little practice and the help of his
charming companion he was soon able to balance him-
self quite well in the air, though he could only rise a
foot or so above the floor in the restricted space of the
tomb. But when he attempted to catch the edge of the

skylight opening and climb out, one of his wings collided
violently with the roof because he forgot to touch the
spring, and snap went a rib.

Poor Professor Hicks tumbled to the floor and pretty
Rosaria wrung her hands in dismay.

“It is too bad,” she cried. “It would have been so easy
to go out that way. Now I will have to use my radio-
matic and partly destroy your lovely temple.”

She touched the small, dull-green cylinder that hung
from her neck :

“All women carry them,” she said, “for since every-
body flies who can afford to buy, borrow, rent or steal a
pair of wings, it is not safe for any woman to fly out
alone without being able to protect herself. I hate to
spoil your temple though.”

“It is not a temple,” exclaimed the professor hastily,
“it is just a tomb, a place to put the dead in away from
sight. There were much finer ones than this. Don’t you
be afraid to wreck it, I — I hate it!” he jerked out dis-
gustedly.

“Why,” she asked suddenly, “did they keep you ? Why
didn’t they disperse you? Or did you die long before
our method of dissolving the dead into nothingness was
adopted ?”

“People were either entombed in the earth or in a
crypt or mausoleum like this in my time, or were cre-
mated,” he replied. “I never heard of any other way
of disposing of the deceased — unless with quicklime,
which was only used on the bodies of criminals.”

“Oh !” said Rosaria, “how funny ! It must have been
dreadfully unhealthy to have a lot of dead people lying
around.”

“What do you do with them now ?” inquired the pro-
fessor.

“We disperse the remains,” she answered. “The
coroner turns a powerful X-ray upon a body and it
vanishes, resolves into nothingness. It is so much
cleaner — and cheaper.”

“Can you use that little gun of yours on the locks of
these doors?” asked the professor, impatient to get out.
Just then the marvelous X-ray did not interest nearly as
much as the thought of freedom. The very idea of hav-
ing spent two hundred years in the limited space of the
marble chamber almost stifled him. He wanted to feel
the cool winds of heaven on his brow, hear the songs of
the birds, touch the green leaves once more. The serum
did not interest him, now that he could look at Rosaria’s
exquisite profile.

“You can’t get out of that door,” said his fair
deliverer. “It is closed and the earth is banked against
it half way to the top. I will make an opening above the
level of the ground as nearly as I can judge.”

She lifted the little cylinder and pointed it straight at
the marble wall.

Professor Hicks heard no report, saw no flash, but
almost immediately a tiny bubble was traveling rapidly
up the smooth surface, and as it moved, the marble
melted beneath it until a fissure an inch wide appeared.

Rosaria still stood with the little cylinder extended as
if taking aim. The bubble on the wall vanished when it
had covered a foot and another bubble took its place,
traveled the same distance and a third bubble continued
the crack. This was succeeded by a fourth and a fifth
until three sides of a square was formed. The direction
taken by the bubbles was determined by the position
from which they were aimed. With the sixth bubble the
section of the wall tumbled inward, raising a great cloud

754

AMAZING STORIES

of dust as it fell. Blue sky, green trees, and sunlit turf
appeared through the opening, which was breast-high.

“The radiomatic fires a bubble of radium gas,” ex-
plained Rosaria, “and nothing can withstand it, neither
stone nor steel, nor iron nor living flesh.”

“I feel,” said the professor irrelevantly as he gazed
out into the world again, “like a ghost. I am two hun-
dred and thirty-five years old and I feel like an infant
in knowledge beside you.”

Rosaria opened her violet eyes wide, and shook her
shining head gravely.

“I am not wise,” she said earnestly, “I only know the
common things I see, but the world is full of very wise
people — ^those who know how to harness the winds and
direct the stars, and make the sun obey. Disease is un-
known and death rarely occurs, unless in accident or
battle, until the mind becomes so weakened that it can no
longer command the forces of the body.”

“I suppose earth has changed greatly since my time,”
he sighed, “and all the governments of the various coun-
tries have also changed.”

“There is only one government now over the entire
world,” said the winged girl. “In the summer of 1930 a
projectile was fired from the earth to the moon, and it
was successful in reaching it. It was then for the first
time that the moon-people were sure that the earth was
inhabited and therefore habitable. So they came to
earth in a great cylindrical car — at least some of them
did, and finding earth so very far behind moon-times,
and also that very large areas on its surface were un-
populated, the moon-people remained here, and sent for
many more. Being so much wiser and so much farther
advanced in civilization than the earth-people, they be-
came rulers here, and by intermarriage soon improved
the earth-races — mentally, morally and physically.”

T he professor pondered over this astounding in-
formation a few minutes before he asked another
question :

“Are you still able to travel from the earth to the
moon and vice versa?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Rosaria, “almost everybody who
is anybody at all takes a trip to the moon once or twice
a year, and the moon-people are frequent visitors here.
This is also true of the nearer stars, but we have not yet
found a way to withstand the long period of traveling
in the intense cold in order to reach Jupiter.”

“But you still speak the same language — the good,
plain English that was spoken over half the globe when I
withdrew from active life to my long rest.”

“That,” said Rosaria, “is because English is so much
more expressive and contains so many more words than
the language of the moon-people, which is only founded
on half the letters of the alphabet, and moreover is very

difficult to pronounce properly, being a series of gutturals
from the throat rather than the tongue.”

“And animals?” queried the interested professor.

“There are very few, only the cow, the hog, the hen
and the dog have been allowed to survive, the three
former because they are useful for food and fat, the
latter for friendly companionship and protection while
we sleep. The weavers make furs from silk and wool far
more beautiful and durable thaii the finest pelts. Silk,
too, is manufactured from vegetable matter, independent
of the silkworm, which is now seen only in museums.
So it is with ivory, leather, and gems ; science has found
out the secrets of nature and makes them far better and
at less cost. But had we not better climb out of here
while it is yet light ?”

The professor gallantly knelt for Rosaria to mount
upon his shoulders and she wriggled through the narrow
opening without injury to her precious wings. Pro-
fessor Hicks then scrambled out, aided by the lady’s
strong little hands. He stood looking round him at the
green woods, the glimpse of the Hudson, but a few
miles distant, and the azure heavens through which sped
occasional specks he knew were men and women. But
he looked longest at the ancient mausoleum which was
yet younger than himself, and like himself had with-
stood the assaults' of two hundred years. Then he
turned and gazed spellbound at his lovely companion.
He felt that the wonderful serum had fulfilled its mis-
sion, and that there was no need of it in this marvelous
new world into which he had returned. Then and there
he ceased to be the professor ; he became simply James
Holloway Hicks.

“And you?” he asked, “are you an earthwoman?”

“Not altogether,” said the winged girl, “I was born of
an earth-father and a moon-mother.”

Strange flutterings assailed the heart of James Hicks,
hitherto callous to female charms, and then happened the
most surprising event of that surprising day.

He dropped gracefully on one knee at the feet of his
enchanting rescuer and lifted her dainty hand to his lips :

“Miss Rosaria, are you married? If not, will you fly
through life with me?”

* * *

T he morning sun was streaming through the long
windows of his study. Outside every branch and
twig and bush was sheathed in ice and flashing like a
million jewels. The professor turned his head and saw
Dr. Blinkman smiling at him from the depths of an easy
chair :

“I thought it wouldn’t work on you,” he said, “but you
have had a good night’s sleep, and at times you seemed
to be dreaming.”

The End.

The Secret Kingdom

By Allen S. and Otis Adelbert Kline ^

(Continued from page 745)

Nona and the sovereign accompanied Tupac to his
house. The special Curaca guardsman was sent for at
once, but a servant returned with the report that Ripac
was nowhere to be found.

“Very well,” said the Villac Vmu, “we will look for the
white Curaca ourselves; for if the servants cannot do
as they are bidden, then must the master serve himself.”

He went about unlocking the various cells, and then
the dungeons, his expression of injured innocence deep-
ening with each new failure to locate the man whom
they sought.

“Summon your slaves,” said the Inca finally. “We
will examine them separately.”

The wretched vassals were overawed by the presence
of the great monarch, but they also feared the wrath of
the High Priest. Hence, more than fifty had knelt in
succession at the feet of Huayna Capac, and asserted
that they had seen nothing of the white man, before
anyone was found who would give even a fragment of
infonnation.

The man who broke down under the questioning of
the Inca was a newly acquired slave in the household of
Tupac, and therefore not thoroughly versed in the ways
of his wily master. He stammered that he had seen
Ripac lock the white Curaca in the den of the boa con-
strictor.

The Villac Vmu was outwardly calm, but inwardly
he was boiling.

“Are you positive that what you say is true, O scum
of the earth?” he asked.

End of

The frightened slave answered in the affirmative.

“This is indeed serious,” said Tupac. “I do not be-
lieve that Ripac could have done such a thing — but we
will investigate.”

He led the way to the den of the boa, unlocked the
door and slid it open a little way. A gruesome sight
met the eyes of those who looked within.

The huge reptile was sleeping peacefully in the center
of the floor. Near the middle, its body was" distended to
twice the natural diameter for a distance of more than
five feet. It had unquestionably swallowed either a man
or something the size and shape of a man.

Nona uttered a little choking cry and swooned. The
Inca himself caught her in his arms and called for
restoratives. When she recovered consciousness, Huayna
Capac and the High Priest were conversing.

“I cannot understand why your men should have com-
mitted such a terrible act without an order from you.”

“Nor can I, Your Majesty. I think it probable that
Ripac thrust the white Curaca into this room by mistake,
believing it to be one of the regular cells. No doubt he
discovered the awful consequences of his error, too late
to rectify it, and has fled in fear of my wrath. He shall
be hunted down and punished for this. I promise Your
Majesty that he shall suffer for his carelessness.”

“Punishment of the culprit. . . will not bring the
dead man back. . . from that horrible living tomb,”
sobbed Nona.

“It seems that our search has come to an end,” said the
Inca. “Let us return to the palace.”

Part II

In this department we shall discuss, every month, topics of interest to readers. The editors invite correspondence on all subjects
directly or indirectly related to the stories appearing in this magazine. In case a special personal answer is required, a nominal

fee of 25c to cover time and postage is required.

A CONFIRMED SKEPTIC IN HIGH
SCHOOL; HIS MISCONCEPTION OF
THE ACTION OF A ROCKET

Editor, Amazing Stories:

I might start this letter by saying that I am a
high school student and a confirmed skeptic of
anything which seems to me unreasonable. Yet I
do not reject any theory which seems to be
plausible. Rather I look for holes in it. I am not
a regular reader of your magazine, but when I do
read it, I read it thoroughly. I am patient with
your authors. I don’t kill the enjoyment of a story
by assuring myself that each incident that is dis-
closed is impossible. But I do object to obvious
incongruities. In particular, I refer to two
obvious mistakes in “The Dimension Segregator.”
While I enjoyed this story, still I am skeptical.
The author refers to an absolutely solid metal,
which he claims (through his character in the
story) is made by subjecting iron to a temperature
of absolute zero. 1 allow that it might become
solid, but I see no reason for it remaining so when
the temperature is raised again. Another point
which seems to me absurd is the point at which the
scientist gayly proceeds to carry his two dimen-
sional pig around by squeezing it between bis
bands. If the pig would pass through solid metal.

I don’t see how he could prevent it from passing
through a resistance as slight as his hands I Some
of your readers might point out that, in the story,
the pig had no weight, and hence would not slip.
Then how do they account for the professor’s
hand sliding off into space? It evidently moved by
inertia, and, since it had no weight, I don’t see
how it could move by inertia, or momentum, when
it could not have any! I won’t continue in this
vein any longer, but will raise a loud cry of
“down with interplanetary stories and out with the
ancient 'Red Peril’ themel” I realize that these
subjects are favorites with authors, since they,
especially the former one, allow such freedom for
the imagination. But I for one am sick of them.

The astonishing long letter in your “Discussions”
of the September issue attracted my attention.
The writer, as many of your correspondents seem,
is all agog about interplanetary transportation.
My own opinion of that “rocket car” business is
that it is fundamentally unsound. A rocket de-
pends for its motion on the very simple principle
of action and reaction. When there is nothing
tangible to react on, I claim a rocket must stop.
I picture a rocket outside of the earth’s atmosphere
as a man trying to row a boat with his oars beating
the air. Since the oar blades cannot obtain a
bold, the boat cannot move. And since, outside

the atmosphere, the rocket gases can obtain no
hold, the rocket would crash, as one of Dr. God-
dard’s recently did. In the letter mentioned
above, the writer says he fails to see how an ex-
plosive can burn without oxygen. I have fooled
enough with chemicals to know that there are many
explosives which are quite capable of supplying
their own oxygen. Did this writer ever hear of
a depth bomb, for example? If you continue
with your interidanetary stories, I hope some day
to see one without a beautiful heroine, without an
ambitious villain, and without a war brought on
by some /lation, and brought to a successful close
by the hero.

I realize that this letter is all adverse criticism,
I realize that your regular readers will want to
tear me apart, if you print it. But let this hold
them: I have tried to make no statement I cannot
prove, and I have read so many of their letters
which to me reveal a multitude of mistakes, that
I no longer feel the urge to reply to them I But
on the whole, I like your magazine, and wish
there were more to it.

T. R. Bartlett,

3111 W. Coulter St., Philadelphia, Pa.

(In your own words your letter “reveals” a bad
(.Continued on page 758)

755

756

AMAZING STORIES

November, 1929

A Choice Selection

"Beware ajUr Dark," by T. Everett Harre.
Published by The Macaulay Company,
$ 2 . 00 .

I FOR one, have no fault to find with this
collection of short stories, which, for the
’ most part, properly belong in the “Fan-
tastic Adventure” class. A few might be
called occult and bizarre. Notable among
the better stories are: Arthur Macken’s
“Novel of the White Powder,” George W.
Bayly’s “The Sunken Land,” Edmond
Hamilton’s “The Monster-God of Mamwith”
and H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Call of Ethu-
Ihn.”

Readers of Amazing Stories will be par-
ticularly interested in the stories by Hamil-
ton and Lovecraft, whose works occasionally
also appear in this magazine.

To me Lovecraft was especially interest-
ing. He seems to me to have the divine
gift of “word wizardry” with which he
plays on the emotions and paints pictures

and impressions of poignant clarity. His
“Colour Out of Space,” which appeared in
the October, 1929, issue of Amazing Stories,
has always seemed to me to be a marvelous
bit of writing.

But even the lesser part of this collection
is thoroughly enjoyable. Mr. Harre showed
obvious good choice in his selection of these
stories, and a great deal of care. They are
all worth reading. . .C. A. B.

“Electropolis”

"Electropolis” {M. German), by Otfrid von
Hanstein. Published by Levy & Muller,
Stuttgart, Germany. $1.75.

B y this time it is quite safe to say that
von Hanstein’s pet idea seems to be one
of utilization of deserts and tropical terri-
tories. This subject forms the basis of his
two earlier books: “Emperor of the Sahara
Desert” and “The Farm of the Missing
Man.” His ideas reach the pinnacle in his

last book, which he calls “Electropolis” —
a city of technical wonders.

A Mr. Schmidt inherits the formulas and
inventions of the hero of “The Farm of the
Missing Man.” He has also bought an
enormous tract of desert land from the
Australian Government, on which land are
located subterranean rivers which provide
him with power and enormous deposits of
gold and radium, which provide him with
wealth. He wants, of course, to set up an
empire, independent of the rest of the world,
and his dreams are almost realized when the
Australian Government declares war. Those
plans are nipped in the bud, but something
much more disastrous occurs and marks a
definite change in affairs.

The book is convincingly written, the
illustrations are good, and the lover of scien-
tific fiction will find a veritable mine of
proven and possible inventions, which will
stimulate the imagination and provide good
entertainment. . .C. A. B.

READERS’ VOTE OF PREFERENCE

Stories I like: Stories I do not like:

1

2 ;

3

4

Why : Why :

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November, 1929

AMAZING STORIES

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AMAZING STORIES

November, 1929

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error in elementary physics. You entirely mis-
understand the action of a rocket. Action and
reaction are equal and opposite. The action of a
rocket is due to the rush of gas from the case or
body; the reaction of the gas is against the body
of the rocket which drives it on. It really is true
that in a vacuum a rocket would go further than
it would in the air. The pressure of the gases
against the air has nothing to do with the rocket's
advance. You entirely misunderstand the action
and the corresponding reaction. There is no re-
semblance between the rowing of a boat and the
motion of a rocket. The word burning is used to
indicate the combining of a combustible sub-
stance with oxygen. The oxygen may surround
the object, or it may be mixed with it, or chemi-
cally combined with it. In gun powder it is
mixed with it by the presence of potassium nitrate;
in nitroglycerine it is chemically combined with it.
You must remember that there are many explosives
which contain no oxygen and in which explosion
oxygen takes no part. All we can say about inter-
planetary stories is that out readers ask for them.
And it seems to us, that in spite of inconsistencies,
a good many of them necessary to the story, they
do include a lot of good science. — Editor.)

THE ROCKET IN A VACUUM AGAIN

Editor, Amazikg Stories:

After reading in many of your stories of space
diers, who depend on rockets as a means of pro-
pulsion, I have decided to ask a question. How
can a rocket recoil if there is no air or gas to
offer resistance to the stream of gas and flame
issuing from its mouth? If there is no recoil there
IS no motion. Using nullification of gravity and
attraction of planets is a more possible plan.

Albert L. Mills,

87 Lincoln St., Jersey City, N. J.

(This question you will find answered elsewhere.
The presence of air only impedes the flight of a
rocket. — Editor. )

SCIENCE CORRESPONDENCE CLUB

Editor, Amazing Stories:

I have noticed in the columns of your magazine
at various times suggestions for a science cor-
respondence club. I am glad to say that one has
already been started, bearing that name, as you
will notice by the letterhead. There are at present
about thirty members in the club, and aboat a
dozen more have signified their intention of join-
ing. Although it has been in existence for several
months, it has not become definitely organized until
recently. In your reply to the letter of Walter
Dennis (who, by the way, has joined our circle)
you declared that your help would be given in any
way reasonably possible, to make the club that Jie
proposed a success. To the best of ray knowledge,
this is the only club of its kind in the field, and
all concerned are bent on keeping it that way by
preserving its unity. I am sure that the promises
you have made in the past have not been re-
tracted, and yoiiY interest in this venture has not
declined. At present a club bulletin is planned,
and if you arc interested in our progress, I am
sure our president will send you a copy. May I
ask through your column that those who are in-
terested in joining should writer either to Aubrey
Clements, of 6 Hilliard St., Montgomery, Alabama,
or to Raymond A. Palmer, 2226 Vine St., Mil-
waukee, Wisconsin, for further information?

Dr. Sloane, in his editorial for this month,
requested that some reader find the mathematical
relation of a cube to a sphere exactly surrounding
it. By a little arithmetic and less algebra 1
arrived at the following result:

Let R = radius of sphere

Let S = side of cube
Ra

Then ■ = Volume of sphCTC

Then S = Volume of cube

Therefore:

.866026 S = R

R,

2.720693 S3

.9549

I gu^s that’s about all the acrobatics this type-
writer will stand. A pencil and paper is much
better for that purpose. The decimals in the
above numbers are abridged, partly to keep them
from running off the page, and because they have
no end — just like pi.

I have no objections to make to your stories.

S 1 ARTT 0 .FL£

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AMAZING STORIES

759

but I am sorry that Mr. Paul Is no longer on
your staff. Despite what other critics may say, I
beUeve that his drawings are far more realistic
than those created by you,r other artists. I say
created, because pictures in your magazine must
be drawn from imagination, and 1 am making
allowance for this fact in criticism.

No author seems to be cognizant of the possi*
bility that all life, plants and animals included,
may have been developed from a comman ancestral
protobion {.proto, first, bios, life) which is, of
course, non-existent at present. What leads me
to believe this, is the reason for similarity of the
lower orders of plants and animals. Coral and
sponge colonies are anchored, while some under*
sea plants have comparatively rapid motion. I
would like to have your comment on this.

Leonard May,

17 Delaware Ave., Jersey City, N. J.

(Your solution of the cube and sphere problem
is not clearly explained, and you do not tell what
the side of the cube is. Of course, by dividing
R by .866026 the value of S is given, and this is
the answer. If you work by the squiare of the
hypotheneuse you will get the following formula:

The diagonal of the cube will be the diameter
of the sphere, which is 120 feet. Working by the
square of the hyptheneuse we get for the value
of the diagonal of a side of the cube V2X*
and for the diagonal of the cube V3X*. As this
diagonal is 120 feet, we have the equation—
= 120

and solving we find —

X = 69.3

We are certainly interested in your club and
would like to see your bulletin, Evolution is a
very old doctrine and the most recent theories
leave it about as much a mystery as ever. Your
idea about the protobion is quite interesting and
we are glad to give it in our columns. — E ditok.)

DR. BREUER’S CRITICISMS OP “THE
PURPLE DEATH’* REPLIED TO BY
THE AUTHOR OP THAT STORY

Editor, Amazing Stories:

Replying to Dr. Miles J. Breiter’s criticism of
“The Purple Death” in the “Discussions” column
of the September issue of Amazing Stories, I wish
to thank the Doctor for the facts which he calls to
the writer’s attention.

The Doctor is quite right when he intimates
that the author of this story knows nothing about
practical bacteriology, said author never having
had the opportunity to acquire such knowledge.
However, I do wish to take issue with the Doctor
on some of his statements.

I did not, as the Doctor claims, treat appen*
dectomy lightly. In the story. Doctor (jrey
dreamed that he had removed organs — ^thq appendix
was used by way of illustration — and performed
operations without making any incision. The
story expressly states that “he could not remember
how, in his dreams, he had been able to see the
rays inside the body, or how he had completed the
operations after remoinng the offending organs/*
Surely the Doctor does not mean to insist that a
dream should be fn accord with established scien-
tific facts, since dreams have been notoriously
fantastic from time Immemorial.

In referring to surgical amputations, the Doctor
leaves the impression that unless an amputation is
made with all the precautions that are taken in the
best modem hospitals, the patient could save money
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AMAZING STORIES

November, 1929

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a tourniquet applied until after the limb was
severed.

The writer still believes that it is possible —
though not necessarily practical or advisable — to
amputate a limb instantly, provided a tourniquet
is placed above the point of amputation, the
arteries closed with artery forceps immediately
after the limb has been removed, and the blood
vessels immediately ligated.* 1 have an idea that
the rough and ready surgery that is ofttimes prac>
ticed in camps and other isolated places, where a
doctor and a hospital are not available, is quite
often effective though painful and dangerous. In
the story, Doctor Grey did not state just how he
would go about amputating a limb instantly. He
was not talking to another surgeon but to an elec-
trical engineer, who very probably knew little —
and cared less — about the surgical possibilities of
the Doctor’s discovery.

In place of mentioning De Kruiff’s Microbe
Hunters (which, as it happens, contains the facts
mentioned in the first three paragraphs of the
story), I might have said that Doctor Grey’s desk
held several volumes of bacteriological reference
books, including the Handbuch der Immunit'dtS’-
forschung und experimentcllen Tkerapie, by Kraus
and Levaditi, Die cxpcrimcntelle Bakteriologic, etc.,
by Kolle and Hetscb, as well as other works by
Park and Williams, Jordan, Zinser, Kolmer and
Hewlett. My reason for not doing so is entirely a
personal one. When I read a story and the author
refers to a certain book, I usually read the book
if it is available in the public library and pro-
viding it is not too technical. I believe that other
readers do the same. While I do not have a
speaking (or reading) acquaintance with the
above mentioned works, I fear that the butcher,
the baker, and — well, the average man with an
average education — would find little pleasure in
these books, and it is Mr. Average Man who sup^
ports magazines, as he forms the large majority
of the reading public. I do believe, however, that
the average reader might read, understand and
enjoy the Microbe Hunters. The names of the
above mentioned bacteriological reference books
might be welcomed by readers of such a magazine
as the Journal of Pathology and Bacteriology, but
not by the casual reader in search of entertain-
ment.

I have only the following comment to make on
the criticism on searching for dead microbes in
the guinea pig’s blood. It is very probable that
the statements of one A. van Leeuwenhoek were
“mirth provoking” and “ridiculous” to the “prac-
tical” scientists of his time. (This is not to be
construed as meaning that the writer considers
himself a modern Leeuwenhoek.) Another decade
or two may find microscopes devdoped to the
point where we may learn that a microbe— like
Dean Swift’s flea— may have

“ — smaller fleas that on him prey;

And these have smaller still to bite 'em
And so proceed — ad infinitum,**

I hope to see Doctor Breucr’s comments on any
future stories that I may be fortunate enough to
have published in Amazing Stories, but I assure
him that I shall in the future avoid subjects that
require a knowledge of practical bacteriology.

I shall close with the promise that never shall
Doctor Grey or his creator knowingly “monkey”
with trypanosomes or spirochetes.

Jack Barnette,

301 B. & O. Building, Baltimore, Md.

(Any comment would spoil this letter, which is
as goi^ reading as the story that awakened the
criticisms.— Editor.)

A SECOND LETTER FROM MR.

SCHOEPFLIN

Editor, Amazing Stories;

Regarding the editorial reply to my letter as
published on page 576, September issue, it seems
to me that the real point of the scheme was missed.
The electrical method of producing ansesthesia is a
purely local one in effect. For instance, in appen-
dectomy only those nerves communicating with the
appendix and the surrounding area would be
“blocked off” by the counter-current set up in the
nerves themselves, thus preventing the pain im-
pulses from reaching and registering in the brain.
The patient would be entirely conscious but would
feel no pain and there would be no shock following
the operation. There is therefore little similarity
to the electric chair where high voltage is used to
prolong unconsciousness into death. In the elec-
trical anxthesia, the voltage is infinitesimal but
the current value high, this having been found
characteristic of the normal nerve impulses &s
determined by the oscillograph. To date, .the

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AMAZING STORIES

761

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scheme is in an experimental stage and I under-
stand from one of our research engineers that it
has not been put to practical use in operations on
human beings as yet, though success has been ob-
tained with dumb animals. However, the elec-
trical nerve impulse characteristic has been
definitely proven and that was the point of my
original letter.

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(The editor in his comment on your letter in
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mere mechanism. But how a current of high value
is produced with infinitesimal voltage is not
clear. — Editor.)

CRITICISM FROM PALESTINE

Editor , Amazing Stories:

Although this is my first letter to you, I will
dispense with the usual apologies and explanations.
I shall just note down a few imperfect comments
on my impressions of Amazing Stories. Without
entering into the subletics of the question of
criticism, I think that the editor and most of the
readers will agree as to the great importance and
usefulness of even sharp criticism. Firstly, I
strongly dislike your name, and agree heartily
with the great number -of your readers who re-
quest you to change the name. From the first time
I read Amazing Stories (which is just a few
months ago) I have felt that a name something
like “Scicntifiction” or “Scientifiction Tales”
would draw a greater number of readers by not
awakening at first sight such unpleasant associa-
tion as “Amazing Stories” does. In a general
way I am afraid that with a few exceptions, the
Amazing Stories do not possess a very high
literary standard. Particularly do I object to the
use of slang or argot by many of the staid scien-
tific characters. Real men of science, and espe-
cially those of such exceptional merit, which the
stories usually depict, seldom use ungrammatical
and inelegant language. I think that some of your
authors could learn much by taking lessons in
style and structure from that great master of
Scientifiction, H. G. Wells. Besides, being par-
ticularly familiar with his works, I note that he
is probably the most original of such writers, most
of the ideas of time-traveling, interplanetary dying,
extraordinary growth, etc., being due to him.
Again I think I may bring an example from Wells
in the question of the part love should play in
these talcs. Wells, who is surely one of the most
popular of writers, has hardly ever used the motif
of love in his fantastic tales. Of course, I do
not mean to convey that love should be entirely
eliminated, but I do say that it surely ought to
play a more subordinate part than it usually does.
Taking up the question of scientific inconsistencies,
which is perhaps the most important of all and the
main object of this criticism, I notice for instance
in your August issue; the idea of long distance
hypnotism as practised by Philip Barton is in-
compatibly with the accepted law of psychology—
that no person may be hypnotized against his or
her will. Again, when the Inquisitor goes up
20 miles, I do not see how and why its height
makes it independent of the rotation of the earth.
Its initial speed (that of the earth’s rotation) is
practically the same 20 miles up, as on the surface
of the earth. And then again, Philip Barton’s
method of changing a person’s character, lacks, I
am afraid, any scientific basis. In “The Dimen-
sion Segregator,” iron is reduced to absolute zero,
which is impossible, at least according to the basic
principles of modern science. Then again
Tulane’s s^regation ray consists of a mixture of
radium rays and electro-magnetic waves inter-
mediate in frequency between ultra-violet and
X-rays, which modify one another's properties in
order to form the segregating ray. This is in
direct contradiction to Physics, which teaches us
that electro-magnetic and other rays do not modify
another’s properties, but rather act oblivious of
each other’s presence. It would seem that the
author has used a chemical analogy (of t!.e com-
pound in Physics). In “Out of the Void” I cannot
exactly understand what the second sun is, but
perhaps that was made clear in the second instal-
ment. And then I think our interplanetary hero
and heroine might easily have landed on Mars by
stopping the powder charges. Then Mars might
have called them, as there would be no defying
force. Let me now give the ante. Allow me to
congratulate you on your experiment and sincerely
wish you success. All of your stories are inter-
esting and some of them good. Your discussions
are very interesting, and many times are replete

Ml

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762

AMAZING STORIES

November, 1929

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with conscious and unconscious humor, especially
the editorial replies which sometimes seem to evade
the questions at issue. I think that Poetry may
be reconciled more truly with our strict mistress
Science, without license, by the romance of Exact-
ness. I hope from now on to buy steadily all of
your Scicntifiction Publications, and to criticize
as much as possible in the knowledge that the
editor receives it in the right spirit, and in the
hope of bettering the publications.

M. A.,

Jerusalem, Palestine.

LIFE TIME DX AERIAL

Description of Lifetime DX Aerial

(You say that this is your first letter to us.
We shall hope for more. When you read the
“Discussions’* columns, you will see that many of
our readers like the name of the magazine and we
feel that to change it for the made-up word
“Scientifiction" would be disastrous. Amazing
Stories is now very well known and it would be
a risk from the standpoint of circulation, to
make a change.

Hypnosis could not well be used in a story if
it was made subject to precise laws, as now under-
stood. It is perfectly fair to have shown that it
has developed so that a person can be hypnotized
against bis will. Besides, there is no rule that
says a person cannot be hypnotized if be is using
no resistance, because he does not know he is being
hypnotized. As a body rises above the earth, its
weight becomes less, owing to the reduced gravita-
tional pull exerted by the earth. Therefore its
angular velocity would constantly decrease as its
radius relative to the centre of the earth becomes
greater and greater, so that after a while it will
lag behind very rapidly because in order to retain
its position in that radius it would have to go
faster and faster. At a distance of about 4,000
miles from the earth it would have a velocity of
30 miles per second. This consideration, you see,
introduces some very curious and interesting ele-
ments into the question. In the Leyden University
absolute zero has been almost obtained. Rays pro-
duced in the same medium modify each other’s
properties to the extent of what is called a hetero-
dyning.— Editor. )

CRITICISMS AND SUGGESTIONS FROM
ONE OF OUR YOUNGER READERS

Editor, Amazing Stories:

For a long time 1 have been trying to get up
enough energy to write a letter. Here goes. I
won't be too violent in my denuheiations; I re-
member the fellow who wrote a letter to Popular
Science. He was very indignant that anybody
should be so dumb as to think that a rocket could
go through interplanetary space. “Out there
there is no air, nothing to push against. A rocket
must have something to push against.” (Of course
the air has nothing to do with the rocket’s flight,
except to impede it.— Editor’s Note.)

First I will criticize stories, then I will criticize
the critic who criticized the critic who criticized
other critics. (I mean Teddy Projector, who had
a letter in your August issue.) Then will come
miscellaneous. “Into the Green Prism” was a
wonderful story, but there were mistakes in it as
John Pinkard showed. I wish you would forget
this “poetic license” business. Why not admit the
author was wrong and be done with it? Next time
he probably won’t make that mistake. “Station X”
is in my opinion the best story you ever printed.
Can I in any way get the magazines it was in?
“The Skylark of Space” is second only to “Sta-
tion X.” Peculiar, that the first planet they
should land on bad X-metal as common as dirt,
while the next one was colored green by the
enormous quantities of copper it contained. I
don’t think that the energy taken by the air to
expand would have cooled it off enough to freeze
it, as it was supposed to have done when some air
escaped from the two space cars. And the air
could not have radiated heat fast enough for that.
And we never did find out what that “faidon”
was. VVe want more from those authors. Besides
their other attributes, they possess htfmor, which
few authors have. That was an awful mistake in
“The Face of Isis” about the projectile going off
at a tangent. At that rate it ought to go back-
wards when it got heavier (heh-heh). How about
that sequel to the “Face in the Abyss” that we
were PROMISED? Answer me that. Who are
you, anyway? Have you separated entirely from
the old Experimenter Publishing Company? If
you haven’t, why don’t you advertise that they
have come out with two more scicntifiction mags. ?
Can we print criticisms of the stories in those
magazines? I am withholding them until you
print that information in “Discussions” column.

One of the fundamental laws of creation is that
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AMAZING STORIES

763

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Fourth Avenue, New York City.

destroyed, unless at some time we learn to make
energy out of matter, or vice versa; and even then
we are not changing the sum total. For that
reason I cannot believe in perpetual motion. (A
machine that gives out more power than it takes
in.) It follows that I must discredit there ever
being a gravity nullifier, such as was in “Sam
Graves* Gravity Nullifier.**

Now for the critic ad infinitum. I hold that it*s
perfectly all right to criticize the criticizer, because
he sometimes makes mistakes worse than the
authors. This same guy that says we shouldn’t
criticize critics claims that it is impossible to eat
or drink upside down. I hung by my knee and
drank a whole cupful of water with a straw.
Which proves that he is wrong. Oh, yeh, I forgot
to say that I am a boy, fifteen years old, a senior,
five feet eight in height, dark hair, gray-green eyes.
I am interested in any and every science except
domestic. I like playing football, swimming, and
eating angelfood cake.

Artist Hugh Mackay is good at drawing faces
and figures, but he can’t hold a candle to Paul for
scientific apparatus; but Paul, in turn, is not
much good at drawing people. If the two could
be combined it would be wonderful. The best
picture of humans Paul ever drew was the man
and womar^r'f^ front of “Ralph I24C By

the way ^ir"-q^ sj|s to me that heat, though not
radiated,^|®I[5^still be conducted, the molecules
imparting theiV^^c^on to the ones next them. The
man who stuck would get

burned. Sayl we^^t more of Baron

Munchbausen.

I am going to write a sft^rm^df. It will con-
tain three main ideas. The flVst good,

the second one is pretty good, <{^gjri$wdone is
doubtful. I may not use it at all; projj^v I’ll use
a modification of it. But I am certain sl^Arst one
is good. It is an interplanetary story, and if I
decide to use the third idea, it will use a different
method of locomotion than has ever been written
about before. I hope it (the story) will be what
M. Sommer wanted in his letter in the August
issue. It will be in length anywhere between “The
World of the Giant Ants’* and “Barton’s Island,’’
though it will probably be much longer than the
latter story. By the way, both these stories were
very good.

Yours for more pictures and more pages.

Homer Amos,

Lynwood, Calif.

(You will find that we have received more letters
about rockets in vacuous space. There is quite a
prevalent feeling^ that a rocket has to have air
for its gases to push against, which, of course, as
you say or intimate, is totally wrong. The author
of “Into the Green Prism” is not inclined to admit
any mistakes. He is not exactly sensitive on the
subject, but he takes the ground that he is right.
For back numbers of our magazine containing
“Station X,” please address “Subscription Depart-
ment, c/o Amazing Stories, 381 Fourth Avenue,
New York.** Some of our readers also have old
copies which they want to sell, and they will prob-
ably write to you when they see this. It would
be pretty hard to find just what the fictitious faidon
is, as it is a mythical substance. We have been
promised a sequel to “The Skylark of Space” in
several months. Dr. Smith rightfully, we think,
wants to give us the best he can — for which reason
we must be glad to wait.

The Experimenter Publishing Company is no
longer in existence, and we have no other connec-
tion or affiliation with the other magazines you
refer to.

We certainly agree with you about gravity’s
nullification, but you must admit that the story
you refer to was a very good one. We are de-
lighted to hear what you say about drinking the cup
full of water. In the answer to a critic’s letter in
a preceding issue the writer stated that he had
seen a man stand on his hands, feet in the air, and
apparently, at least, drink a glass of beer. You
will notice that we arc publishing the names of
our artists, so you will be able to criticize them
after this, very voluminously and to the point.
We will always be glad to read any story you
choose to submit to us. Put everything 00 one side
of the paper.— Editob.)

THE QUESTION OF A TRUE PLANE

Editor, Amazing Stories:

This is the second Amazing Stories Magazine
that I have read. Allow me to congratulate you
on the excellent way your magazine is printed.
I have been puzzled by many things that your
magazine has explained in a very uncomplicated
way. In J. Harold Click’s “The Dimension Segre-
gator” I noticed something that to me seems untrue.

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AMAZING STORIES November, 1929

Thorndyke is explaining the screen that Phil
has made out of a “dense alloy.” Thorndyke goes
on to say that it had been compressed and polished
until he believed it was the nearest approach to a
true plane surface that he had ever seen. He
also says that although it was not strictly a plane,
it proved its ability to serve as one. As the next
sentence says, “It was about seven feet square,”
1 should think there would not be any doubt as to
its not being a plane. Or was he just considering
one surface? .

Rudolph Kissel,

95 Dean St., Englewood, N. J.

(We are most anxious to explain things which
come up in science which are of a complicated
nature, so that they can be readily understood.
It is a very difficult thing to do, and we are very-
glad that you express your approval of what our
authors do and of our own efforts in this direction.
As regards the plane, of course, it is only sup-
posed that one surface of it is a plane; the other
surface might be quite irregular, as all the action
took place in front.— Editor.)

INTERPLANETARY STORIES. NULLIFY-
ING GRAVITY. THE DOG»S SIXTH
SENSE. A CHARACTERISTIC
LETTER

Editor, Amazing Stories:

I have been a reader of Amazing Stories since
the first issue and have long desired to enter my
say in the “Discussions” Department. Up to now,
however, I have not followed this desire up.
Amazing Stories is the one magazine that 1 take
from the newsstand without looking inside of it
first. I know I will find interesting reading every
time and so far I have never been mistaken. I do
not like your cover, however, but that is only from
my own viewpoint, as I believe that it actually
helps your magazine a lot. There is one story,
“Out of the Void,” that I wish to criticize. So
far as I can see, there is little real science in this
story and a lot of incorrect science. For instance,
how could this planet Abrui be out between
Uranus and Neptune without having been dis-
covered by Astronomers on Earth? Its personal
sun alone would be visible, while it must exert
quite a bit of infiuience over Uranus, thus making
it impossible for Astronomers to have been able to
locate Neptune by mathematical calculation. Also
little thought seems to have been given to the
dangers faced in a trip through space such as that
taken. I take the stand that such a trip would
be an almost absolute physical impossibility for
two reasons. The first is meteorites, of which it
is well known our solar system is full. As their
journey was long, they must have passed near to
countless thousands of such bodies. 1 would say
that it wodld be about a thousand to one for them
to get through without being hit by one, and no
such rocket could stand being hit by a couple of
tons or more of iron traveling at the terrific speeds
they do. The second is planetoids. They passed
right through the center of the whole mass of them
and yet they were not hit or attracted to one.
Very strange. Well, I read the story anyhow, in-
stead of giving up in disgust as my attitude might
suggest. I do hope, however, that in the future
your interplanetary stories will be more interesting
and more correct than this one. One thing that
has interested me greatly is the nullification of
gravity. It seems to me that in stories dealing with
that the writers forget one thing and that is the
revolving of the earth. If a solid body was com-
pletely without gravity, I should think that as
the earth revolved, it would stay where it was in
space. Thus it would appear to travel toward the
west at a great speed. Because of the wind created
by its progress, it would not travel as fast as the
the earth was revolving at that space. Of course
it would fly off, or rather appear to fly off into
space. What I would like to know is whether it
would create much heat going through the atmos-
phere at that speed? Another form of this nulli-
fication of gravity is when something is made that
nullifies the gravity of everything above it. In
that case I should think that the air above it
would be continually rushing off toward the west
instead of shooting straight up as some authors
would have us believe. Probably quite a wind
would be created. One thing that w'orries me is
the fact that light gases such as helium and hy-
drogOT, though apparently out of the attraction of
gravity, do not act in this manner. Wait a
minute. That’s wrong. They rise, not because
of lack of gravity, but because they are lighter
than air. Thus a balloon, if the former were the
case, would keep on going right out into space,
but it doesn’t. That makes me feel better and

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AMAZING STORIES

765

makes me believe I am right. Please tell me if I
am. There is another story besides “Out of the
Void” that I wish to put under fire. It is “The
Dog’s Sixth Sense,” a story that appeared in the
September issue of Amazing Stories. It was a
good story, but there was one part that was wrong.
It is impossible for a whole eye to be replaced by
another one. The reason is that once the optic
nerve is severed from the retina, the nerve is com-
pletely destroyed. You see the retina is a part of
the optic nerve and even to touch either of them
destroys their power utterly, never to be returned.
I had an argument with my dad about it, but as
he is an eye doctor he proved it to me completely.
The front part of the eye, however, can be sub-
stituted, be says.

Duart Vinson Brown,

Castlewood Country Club, Pleaston, California.

(Your criticisms about the story of “Out of the
Void” are certainly quite clever and interesting and
wc are glad to publish them. We cannot guarantee
that every story will be mathematically correct.
If this were carried out, our magazine would have
to become a very dry one, a sort of resume of
natural science. Hydrogen and helium, as you
say in your second statement, rise simply by flota-
tion, just as a cork rises in water. The idea of a
whole eye being replaced by another one is simply
a sort of prediction of a future possibility. I^ts
of things are done by surgeons now which a few
years ago would have been pronounced rank im-
possibilities and it is certainly very hard to say
when surgery is going to stop. Think of a serious
major operation being performed on a person who
is in his full senses by the use of local anaesthesia,
his face being covered by a cloth, so he would not
see what is going on. Yet we know of one patient
now, who, while being operated on, without any
anaesthetic except the local one, joked with the
doctors during the operation.— E oxtok-)

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TWO KNOCKS, A BOOST AND A DARE

Editor, Amazing Stories:

Two knocks and a boost 11 Knock number one.
Hitting issue of July, 1929, “Discussions” column,
editorial comment on the letter of H. Pedley,
London.

“The Democratic party of old times adopted
for its slogan the motto that the best governed
country is the least governed. But that, un-
happily, is no longer the case. Laws and
statutes cannot suppress the crime that is so
rampant here, where we are over-governed in
the opinion of many.”

Has it never occurred to you that the appalling
multitude of laws might be the cause of the crime,
and that a return to the quoted principle might
cause a lessening? Sociologists say a law can
never be enforced until it enters the mores of the
people, which fact, for instance, the framers of
Prohibition did not take into consideration. Look
at the result! However, thank you for the in-
formation about the party. I never knew that
Philosophic Anarchism had ever wormed that far
into our demagogues' heads. Let’s hope it in-
creases 11

Knock number two. Aimed at a far past
number, for which you are not responsible. Sub-
ject, an alleged example of two dimensional space;
to wit, a shadow. Now, now! In the first place,
a shadow is the absence of light, therefore is a
negation, therefore cannot possess any dimension.
In the second place, if it could, a shadow is not
merely the outline cast on a wall, but includes all
the space between the object and the wall, and
would therefore be three dimensional.

Having inflicted such grievous wounds as I have,
it is only fair to present salve, not soft-soap. The
magazine has distinctly improved in the last few
issues. Undoubted reason, there is now a rival.
Amazing Stories has been so long without a rival
worthy of the name, that it had just begun to
degenerate. Rivalry and (I hope) friendly com-
petition will force both to maintain high standards
— “a consummation devoutly to be desired,” espe-
cially by a subscriber to both.

Robert R. Warner,
Annandale-on-Hudson, New York.

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Sts. e. p. 0 . B. 85 Msahsaf, Can.

(The writer who is responsible for the quotation
is in agreement with you. He has even formulated
a theory that it should be easier to repeal a law
than to pass one. You seem to have misunderstood
him.

A shadow is a very pretty illustration or sug-
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for both in a country of over a hundred millions
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AMAZING STORIES

November, 1929

LEARN f/ic BANJO
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the Worlds Greatest Banjoist

The Famous Leader of the

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BE POPULAR— MAKE
MONEY

Anjwhere — at home, parties or
week-end gatherings, the banjo
player has many friends. Banjo
music fasrinates and charms all.
Further. It Is riially essential in
the <Unce orchestra of today. Pro-
fessional banjoists make big money.

Harry Reser

Famed as a ra-
dio entertainer,
phonograph re-
cording artist,
teacher of the
tenor banjo, or-
chestra leader
and composer of
popular banj»
music. Ills per-
sona 1 guarantee
of your success is
sufficient assur-
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course, nis beau-
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FBEB booklet
tells more about
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made csclusively
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SEND THIS COUPON FOR FREE BOOKLET

MB aa MM M MM *

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Please send me your free book *'Harry Resor's Home
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This obligates me in no way. |

Name |

Address City |

RADIO BARGAINS/

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TRAVELING PASTER THAN LIGHT

Editor, Amazing Stories:

1 have been a reader of Amazing Stories, off
and on, for the past two years, but have just
recently started reading discussions from readers
in the back of the book. As a rule I have found
more mistakes in the criticisms of the stories than
in the stories themselves. One letter in particular
from John H. Penkard, Jr., age 16. Being six-
teen myself, I feel more at ease in commenting on
his letter. As a whole, the letter is scientifically
accurate, with this exception: if a clock could
travel at the speed of light, the hands would not
turn while it was traveling at this speed, because
no time would elapse. I think John’s thoughts are
a little astray on this subject. If it were possible
for a clock to travel at the speed of light and exist,
and if it were possible for us to travel along behind
it, we would see the hands move at the same
speed as ordinarily. But if we were in front of
the clock, we couldn’t see it at all, for the light
waves emitted by it would never reach our eyes
since we are traveling fast enough to keep ahead
of them. If we could fly off this earth faster
than light, we might review the Battle of Waterloo
since we would eventually catch up with its light
waves. All action would be reversed, however;
smoke would re-enter the gun muzzles and dead
men would rise from the field. Another writer,
Leon Rosenthal by name, stated that if the people
in the “Green Prism” story were the size of
atoms, then the electrons of the atoms composing
a molecule of water would appear the size of
tennis balls and would revolve hundreds of feet
from the nucleus. But if the atoms are the size
of the people, then the electrons could be no more
than three feet from the nucleus. Furthermore, the
electrons would not be visible, since they compare
to the nucleus as a baseball might compare to the
earth. If I am wrong in any of my views, I
would appreciate being corrected.

Ronald Scribner,

409 10th Ave. M, Seattle, Wash.

(Your letter is quite interesting and in view of
the fact that you are so young, you express your
views very nicely without the cocksure aspect
which affects disastrously so many letters from
young readers and correspondents. Youif descrip-
tion of what would happen if we could fly off this
earth faster than light is quite picturesque. We
are highly pleased with your letter. It is a mistake
to be too sure of things in this universe.— Editor.)

STEREOSCOPIC VISION WITH THREE
EYES

Editor, Amazing Stories:

Just a note, this being my first offense in writing
to an editor of any magazine. I have been an
ardent reader of your magazine ever since its first
issue and am tremendously interested in any new
development of science- A thought has recently
occurred to me in connection with the much-dis-
puted fourth dimension: When you look at any-
thing with one eye, the sense of perspective is
immediately lost and any scene is reduced to two
dimensions, as when one gazes at a painting.
When you use two eyes, the third dimension imme-
diately becomes obvious. Now what would happen
if it were possible to view a scene with three eyes?
I am not sufficiently well versed in science to know
whether this idea contains any merit at all, or is a
mere foolish idea born through ignorance. At least
it might possibly give Breuer or Keller or Verrill

Win a Nash Sedan

Or $29750.00 in^Cash

Fomeone answers this ad will recelro. absolately free, a
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Dodge Sedan, a Brunswick Phonograph and many other val-
uable prizee--t)esides Hundreds of Dollars in Cash. This offer
Is open to anyone living in the U. & A. outside of Chicago,

Solve this Puzzle

There are 7 oars in the (drole. By drawing S straight Unds
can Dtt eaob one in a space by itself. It may mean
a prize if yoo send me your answer right away.

$750.00 Extra tor Promptness

In addition to the many valuable petzee and Hundreds of
Dollars in C^h. we ere also giving a Spedal Prise of
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and I will send you full particulars. $4,500.00 in prizes —
EVBIIYDODY KEWARDKD.

John T. Adams, Mgr., Dept. 1068. 323 8. Peerta $t.. Chieage. III.

Tbia

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381 Fonrlh Avenue New York, N. Y.

November, 1929

AMAZING STORIES

767

or some one of your other contributors a gferm
of an idea for a story. 1 detest your covers but
have nothing but praise for you after saying that.
Wish you would publish more strange scientific
discoveries and inventions that have actually oc-
curred, such as your articles on “Televox the
Robot," or the Russian experiment on the living
dog's head. Hope my suggestion has something
to it.

J. N. Hall,

Eastgate Hotel, Chicago, III.

(Your idea about the “Third Eye*' and how it
will affect our visual conception of a scene is not
a new one. It is perfectly fair to say that a
third eye would greatly improve our perspective,
or more properly, our stereoscopic vision. It
would be quite interesting if someone would con-
struct a periscope based on the “three eye" prin-
ciple. An extraordinary theory has even been
advanced, based on the location of the pituitary
gland in the head, that the gland cavity or cells
may represent the place where formerly mankind
had a third eye. We arc certainly sorry that you
do not like our covers, but remember their pur-
pose. They illustrate the story; they are given in
color and must be of a type that will attract atten-
tion from the passers-by. Don’t you even like our
more recent covers? It seems to us they possess a
good deal more real art than any of our previous
covers ever did. — Editor.)

ACTION OF A BULLET FIRED FROM A
RIFLE ON A MOVING TRAIN

Editor, Amazing Stories:

I have a question to ask you. It consists of
speed, time and wind resistance chiefly. The
known muzzle velocity of a Springfield, model 1917,
caliber ,30, U. S. army rifle is, theoretically, 2,700
feet per second. Assuming a train going 2,700 feet
per second has two men standing SO feet apart; the
man on the rear of a car on the train (50 feet in
back of the first man) fired a .30 caliber Array rifle
at the man in front of him. Remember, the train
is also going 2,700 feet per second. Would you
give me a full explanation of this problem? I am
a regular reader of “Discussions," and enjoy them
intensely. I think they are great. I would appre-
ciate it very much if you would explain this
problem. Personally I believe the bullet would
not hit him, because the wind resistance would
be too great. What do you think?

J. Chas. Johns,

3345 Lambie Place, Detroit, Mich.

(W© recently had occasion to refer to George
Stevenson’s answer to the question of “What
would happen to a cow, if it got in front of his
locomotive?" This was asked more than a century
ago. His answer was that it would be bad for
the cow. If all was done as you described, it
would be very bad for the man in front of the
gun. The speed of the train would be without
effect upon the relation of the two men or upon
the rifle bullet, except to create a wind, which, of
course, would change its velocity. The point is,
that the bullet would leave the gun with a velocity
of 2,700 feet due to the powder plus another 2,700
feet due to the motion of the train. Therefore,
it would go at 5,400 feet velocity per second and
the wind would not bring it to a stop at once.’~
Editor.)

INTERPLANETARY STORIES A TREAT

Editor, Amazing Stories:

I have just received my September issue of the
Amazing Stories and it certainly had some fine
stories in it. My favorite story was “The Red
Peril" by Captain S. P. Meek. The best point of
the story is showing how defenseless America would
be if certain foreign machines invaded our land,
and also how a larger supply of disease germs
should be stored, especially during a war, when
the enemy may use bombs spreading diseases in-
curable, such as Balinsky made. “(Sold Dust and
Star Dust" was another fine story. The Fourth
Dimension was made very clear. If Corwin had
not been lured to discover the gold, wouldn’t
it have returned the same after the Power Beam
bad been turned on? Why didn’t other articles go
into the Fourth Dimension when the Power Beam
blew out? “The Dog’s Sixth Sense*’ was an
edu'cational story to me, because it gave me some-
~art::g to think about.

Interplanetary stories have always been a rare
treat. The best interplanetary story published is
*‘The Skylark of Space." As luck would have it,
I read the last instalment and was glad that
what went before was also published. Many of
the machines are built somewhat like the “Skylark,"

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This Offer Is Open to Every Reader of This Announcement

It makM no difference who you are or where you live we want you to eend us a name for our tooUi-
paete. Whoever send* the moet suitable name will win— nothing more is neceeeary to gain thie
cash pnea of $1.000.00 j

to Sell

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Any Name May Win

No matter bow simple srou thii^
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may win.

Win this
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by a few moments*
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choosing a name bear in mind this dental
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is designed to sweeten the breath, beautify
the teeth, cleanse cavities and promote teeth and

lUvPROMPTNESS

To get quick action I am going to pay the wia>
nor an extra $100 for promptneae, or $1,100
ia all — to send your euggMtioo AT ONC^

Contest Rules

gum health. The only thing nece^ary to win is to
send the name we choose as the neatest and best
suited for this dental cream. Only one name will be
accepted from each contestant. This unusual offer
is only one of a number of offers embraced in our
novel distribution plan, wherebv those taking part
may ^n any one of twenty-odd prizes, the l&best
of which is ^500 cash. By participating in our dis-
tribution plan the winner of the $1100 cash prize
may win an additional $3500, makhig a total of
t^GOO. Eve^one sending a name regardless of
whether it wins or not, will be given the same oppor-
tunity to vdn the $3500 or one of the other cash
prizes. Get busy with your suggestion at once— do
not delay I Neglect may cost you thousands of df^iiara.

Thia eo&test is open to cveryono except mBrnbcrs of this
firm, their employees and relatives.

EMb contestant may send only one name; Sending two
or more names will cause all names submitted by that
person to be thrown out.

Contest closes November 30, 1929. DupUoatq prisss will
be given in case of ties.

To win the promptness prise of $100 extra, tbs winning
name succeeted must be mailed within three days after
our announooment is read.

I MR. H. E. RAY, Contest Manager

I 762 McCune Bldg., Das Moines, Iowa.

I Enclosed with thii| ooupon on separate sheet b oxy sug-
I gestioQ for a name.

Date this announcement was read. .
Date my suegestion ta m^ed

Address

Nots: Being prompt quidifies you for the extra $10CUK)
as QuUinad ia this i

V

f

768

AMAZING STORIES

November, 19S9

OPPORTUNITY AD-LETS

These columns will appear monthly in Amazing Stories

Kate — Eight cents a word. Cash should accompany all adTertisemencs
unless placed by an accredited advertising agency. Advertisements
for less than 10 words not accepted.

EXPERIMENTER PUBLICATIONS, Inc
381 Fourth Avenue New York City

ADVERTISING AGENCIES

MISCELLANEOUS

INCH. Display 50 monthlies Thrice $8.00.
Meyer Agency, 4112 R, Hartford, St. Louis, Mo.

AGENTS WANTED

YOU ARE WANTED TO RESILVER
MIRRORS AT HOME. Immense profits plating
autoparts, tableware, etc. Write for information.
SPRINKLE, Plater, 815 Marion, Indiana.

AGENTS — 1*11 pay $19 daily to wear men's
fine Felt Hats and show friends. Smartest styles.
I..atest shades. $2 to $5 saving on every kit.
Samples FREE. Taylor Hat and Cap Mfrs.
Dept. SC-385, Cincinnati, Ohio.

AVIATION

Mounted propeller 12 inch and circulars on 3-
foot model aeroplane 10c, Aero Shop, 3050 Hurl-
but Ave., Detroit, Mich.

PROPELLERS. For airplanes, boats, sleds,
road speedsters. Crawford Motor and Airplane
Incorporated, Seal Beach, California.

AVIATION — Salary While Leading, $18 to
$35 per week while under instruction incur factory,
shop and classroom. Call or write for information
witnout obligation. Aero Corporation of America#
Dept. CB, Plankinton Building, Milwaukee, Wis*
constn.

BOOKS

**The Buried eWorld,” 20c. Haggard’s Novels,
25c. Send for list of anibemg books. Smith Book
Co., Box 661, Lawrence, Mass.

BUSINESS OPPORTUNITIES

FREE BOOK. Start Little Mail Order Busi-
ness. Hadwil, 5a*74 Cortland Street, N. Y.

Amateur Cartoonist. Sell your cartoon. New
plan. Smith’s Service, Exn94, Wenatchee, Wash.

CORRESPONDENCE COURSES

l.*sed Correspondence School courses sold on re-
purchase basis. Also rented and exchanged.
Money-back guarantee. Catalog free. (Courses
bought.) Lee Mountain, Pisgab, Alabama.

DETECTIVES

Detectives. Work home or travel. Experience
unnecessary. Particulars free. Write George
Wagner, 2190 Broadway, N. Y.

HELP WANTED AND INSTRUCTION

I catch from 45 to 60 foxes in from 4 to 5
weeks' time. Can teach any reader of this maga-
zine how to get them. Write for particulars,
W. A. Hadley, Stanstead, Quebec.

Be a Detective-^Biggest paying work; every-
where. Write National Headquarters, 169 East
83rd, New York.

W'anted Immediately, Men-Women, 18*55, quali-
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$10S*$250 month; experience not required; vaca-
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Instruction Bureau, 271, St. Louis, Mo., today.

Men, Women, everywhere. Manage your own
business. Learn local advertising (distributing
and supervising the distributin|r of fr^ samples,
folders, circulars, etc., and tacking-up signs). Un-
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Palo Alto, California.

Steamship Positions — Mcn-Women, Good Pay.
Experience unnecessary. List of positions free.
W. E. Arculus, .Mount Vernon, N. Y.

MISCELLANEOUS

Comic Pen and Ink Sketch made from your
photo for $1.00. Send snapshot and state hohby.
Photo returned uninjured. Leroy Brock, Box
491-A, Oklahoma City, Route 3.

For Sale. Indian Relics, Beadwork, Curios,

Coins, Photos. Catalogue Free. Vernon Lemlcy,
Oslx}nie, Kansas.

Brass Gears and Model Supplies — send for
Catalogue. The Pierce Model Works, Tinlcy
Park, 111.

You can be a Handcuff King. Enormous salaries
are paid in vaudeville, interesting, mystifying,
full instructions. 50c. Particulars free. S. A.
Tisdale, 1037-16 Ave. N., Nashville, Tcnn.

Movies Graf Zeppelin Flight. Cameras. Book-
let 10c. John J. Young, General P. O., Box 28,
New York City.

Gigantic Mail: Send me 25c (coin or stamps)
for one pound of mail. Ted Armour, 136 East
28th St., New York.

MOTORCYCLES

Motorcycles, Outboard Motors, New, Used,
Bargains. Easy Terms. Catalog free. Clymer,
Denver, Colorado.

OLD MONEY WANTED

OLD MONEY WANTED. Do you know that
Coin Collectors pay up to $1.00 for certain U. S.
Cents? And high premiums for all rare coins?
We buy all kinds. Send 4c for Large Coin Folder.
May mean much profit to you. Numismatic Co.,
Dept. 151 Ft. Worth, Texas.

PERSONAL

Scientific analysis of handwriting revealing your
talents, traits, possibilities. Enclose 75c silver.
Cunningham, 77 Bailey, Lawrence, Mass.

L.et me read vour character from your band-
writing. Sample reading 12c. Graphologist,
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PRINTING OUTFITS AND SUPPLIES

Complete printing outfits, presses, type, ink,
Mper supplies. Write for catalog. Kelsey Co.,
G-67, Meriden, Conn.

SONGWRITEIJS

Songwriters — substantial advance royalties are
paid on publishers' aceptance. Write for free
booklet on developing Ideas for song words or
music required Talking Pictures. Newcomer
Associates, 1674 Broadway, New York.

SONGWRITERS — Revision, melody — $3.00.
Guaranteed. Phillips Music Co., Box 38, Sta. H,
New York.

SONG POEM WRITERS: “Real” Proposi-
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STAMPS

200-200-200! Send for our 200 outfit containing
200 stamps; 200 hinges; approval sheets to hold
200 stamps; perforation gauge; millimeter scale
and ruler; duplicate stamp container- — all for
only 15c to approval applicants. Edgewood Stamp
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FELLOWS — Bargains, scarce stamps. Appli-
cants rare U. S. Free. Hall and Ferguson, 1910
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FREE packet with bargain lists, postage 2c,
Rbeaume, 7748, Henri Julien, Montreal, Canada.

especially one In Amazing Stories Quarterly
named *'Vcnus Liberated.’* I liked *’Vcnus
Liberated” greatly, but I can not understand how a
planet could he destroyed. If a lot of explosive,
such as was used by the expedition, were placed
in the center of the earth, do you think it would
be possible for such a large planet as this to be
destroyed? I thought “Into the Green Prism"
was a lovely story, and did not think of certain
points as I rea^ it. Some of your readers have
disliked it, but all stories have to have some im-
possibilities in them to make them more interest-
ing. Why should anyone think of changing the
cover of Amazing Stories? I never would have
bought it, if it were not for the cover, because
tliat is what attracted my attention. Those who
have called it trashy never have seen or read any
of the stories. Since I received my first issue.

X have seen Amazing Stories improve constantly
and the September issue is great. I wish someone
would start a Science Club, so I could join.

Charles Stanton,

808 Franklin St., Natchez, Miss.

(If a sufficient quantity of a sufficiently violent
explosive was placed in the centre of the earth*
our planet could be blown to pieces, and it is a
conjecture w*hat would become of the fragments.
"Into the Green Prism," which is a very curious
Story, has won much praise from our readers.
Comparatively few have expressed dislike for it.
The cover of Amazing Stories is done by a good
artist and is designed to attract attention just as
it attracted yours; it certainly is not trashy and
is very carefully studied out. — Editor.)

SOME PUZZLES PROM ENGLAND, IN-
CLUDING A “BAG OF NUTS"

Editor , Amazing Stories:

First let me tell you I have been a keen reader
of your magazine since February, 1928, except for
March and April this year, which I unfortunately
missed.

The only disappointing issue I have read is the
last — the July issue, which has only two short
stories coming up to the usual Amazing standard,
viz., “The Book of Worlds" and “Danger." Of
course, Jules Verne still appeals.

Now for two things that may or may not in-
terest you or your readers.

The effects of gravity often come into discus-
sion in various of your stories, but never in relation
to centrifugal force. While gravity pulls inwards,
centrifugal force is tending to throw outwards,
yet this latter force appears to be completely ig-
nored by most of your writers and apparently by
the Scientific World when computing mass and
gravity.

To my mind, this means that all our calculations
concerning gravity and mass are only relative, and
therefore all our astronomical distances and
weights. Also that a given body should appar-
ently weigh less as it leaves the Earth’s surface
until it reaches a point w'here centrifugal force
equals gravity, where it would, in effect, weigh
nothing. Tliis point has been referred to as the
point where one passes out of the Earth’s gravi-
tational field or pull, but this is only correct if it
is sufficiently far from the Earth and its atmos-
phere for it not to be affected by centrifugal force.

Passing this point and remaining stationary,
would one be left behind by the Solar system, or
carried on with It in a relative position?

That’s one bag of nuts. Here’s another.

The speed of light is stated to be fixed at about
186,000 miles per second. According to this, a
body throwing out light rays and traveling at the
speed of light would be invisible from in front,
while it is very difficult to conceive its appearance
from behind or to one side. Surely it is more rea*
sonable that the light rays will leave at a velocity
plus or minus that of its source? Even if this is
so, it is difficult to comprehend what a rear view
of such a moving body would be like.

I realize that this is almost as bad as asking the
wcIl-know*n childish question, “Where does the
light go when it goes out?" but you may be able
to lighten my mental darkness.

One word about your excellent magazine.

Please don’t put voting coupons, etc., backing on
to stories. I keep my copies and don’t like to
mutilate good talcs by cutting out forms.

Owing to the demand, and the above dislike
making me delay applying, I was unable to get
my copy of “The Vanguard of Venus." Perhaps
one of your readers would like to forward me his
copy when finished with it in exchange for infor-
mation or what w'ould you from England.

C. E. Playford.

94 Burnt Ash Road,

Lee. S. E. 12, London, Eng.

(We are glad to receive a good word for Jules
Verne. Gravity as a net quantity varies at dif-
ferent points of our earth. It is least at the
equator and greatest at the north pole, tt would
probably be a little less at the south pole on
account of its elevation, though the mass of the
mountainous region might increase it. It is fair
to say that any object in the solar system would
never leave it. Light rays are affected by the
motion of the source. This fact is the basis of the
spectroscopic determination of the velocity of stars
moving directly towards or away from us.
(Doppler's principle.) In the case of the body you
speak of some of the rays of “invisible light"
would change places on the spectrum and become
visible.— Editor.)