is spared he will forge the world into a great machine for the
preservation of peace and universal good will. That would be fatal to
Bolshevikia's plans, and they will spare no effort to remove him. By
the grace of God, we have saved him from harm so far, but until we
remove Saranoff permanently from the scene, I will never feel safe for
him."

"What do you suppose they'll try next, Doctor?"

"That, Carnes, time alone will tell."

Phalanxes of Atlans

BEGINNING A TWO-PART NOVEL

_By F. V. W. Mason_

[Illustration: _Agile as grasshoppers, those fierce war dogs ripped
and worried their prey._]

[Sidenote: Only in dim legends did mankind remember Atlantis and the
Lost Tribes--until Victor Nelson's extraordinary adventure in the
unknown arctic.]

CHAPTER I

The ice suddenly gave way under his foot, hurling Victor Nelson
violently forward to lie in the deep snow at the bottom of a tiny
crevasse, down which the merciless gale moaned like an anguished
demon.

"It's no use," he muttered bitterly. "We've fought hard, but we're
done for."

He lay still, stupidly watching his breath form tiny beads of ice on
the ends of the fur which lined his parka. Until that moment he had
not realized how thoroughly exhausted he was. Every muscle of his
starved, bruised body ached unbearably. It wasn't so bad lying there
in the soft snow. He could rest, then look later for the ice hummock
behind which the plane lay sheltered. Rest! That's what he needed, a
good long rest.

But deep within him, a primal instinct stabbed his waning
consciousness. "No," he gasped, and blinked his reddened eyes behind
smoked goggles which dulled the shimmer of the aurora. "If I stop,
I'll never get up."

Shaken by the terrific velocity of the arctic gale he numbly clambered
to his feet, then stooped with a stiff awkward motion to retrieve a
Winchester rifle which lay half buried in the snow beside the blurred
imprint of his body.

"Wonder if Alden had any better luck?" The question burned dully in
his brain. "Don't suppose so; there can't be anything alive in this
God-awful wilderness." As he stumbled on he found no answer in an
unbroken vista of wind-scored ice and drifting snow that, swirling
high into the air, momentarily cut off the view of that black line of
ice-capped mountains barely visible on the horizon.

"Yes, if he hasn't found anything, we'll be dead or frozen stiff
before to-morrow."

* * * *