the
flame died away. It roared as he worked at the mechanism, then
dwindled again. Its light, for an instant, was reflected in a liquid
on the floor.

"Broken!" said Winslow in an anguished voice. "The vials are
gone--smashed! And I counted on this to hold off the mob, to get us
safely out...."

He regarded the instrument with silent dismay. The blue flame, as he
held it, flickered and died.

"Not so good!" said Jerry slowly. He stopped to retrieve the knife.
This, he reflected, was their sole weapon of defense. In the dim light
his eyes met with Winslow's in mutual comprehension of their plight.

* * * * *

There were caverns beyond, dark and forbidding. Did they lead to the
outer world? Or, instead, was it not probable that they went to some
deep, subterranean dens, from which this monster had learned to come
at the priests' summons? Jerry put from his mind all thought of escape
in that direction.

"And Marahna, too," he told Winslow. "What will become of her?"

The girl got the essence of the question. Fumbling for phrases that
they knew, she made them believe that she was safe. Her people, she
told them, would protect her.

"Yes," Jerry agreed. "I guess that's right. She's a princess, you
know," he reminded Winslow, "and the great mass of the people look up
to her. Only the priests and warrior gangs will be opposed. But how
can we get through them?"

The question was unanswered.

"We've got to knock them cold some way," said the inventor. "Got to
give them a fright that will last till they let us get through. Once
at the big shaft where we came down, we can make our getaway. But how
to do it...." His voice died away in dismal thought.

Jerry's eyes were casting about. The priest's robe? No, not good
enough. It had brought Winslow through, but it couldn't take them
back. Marahna? No help there: she had enough to do to protect herself
from the fury of the priests.

* * * * *

His eyes rested again on the steaming, blackened mass that still
showed the horrible features that had marked the head of the monster.
The sun god! There was an idea there.

"Come!" he said to Winslow, and walked swiftly across to the severed
head.

He had to steel his nerves before he could lay hands upon the vile
thing. The paws were still attached behind the head. He took a grip on
one and pulled. The great mass moved.

"I don't get the idea," said Winslow.