days."

The Hero's deep, rather ominous laughter rang out in the little rock
hewn chamber. "Days?" he jeered. "Days? Art thou mad? In two hours
from the time we board the tube-road thou shalt learn thy fate from
his Serene Highness."

"What!" Nelson's sunken and blood-shot gray eyes widened, while his
jaw dropped incredulously. "One hundred leagues in two hours? As I
remember there are about three miles to a league, so a hundred leagues
in two hours means one hundred and fifty miles an hour! Why, that's
utterly impossible! The Twentieth Century Limited doesn't go half so
fast."

Several enormous emeralds set into the other's bronze cuirasse
glittered softly and the Hero's cold blue eyes hardened as his hand
sought the grenade belt.

"Impossible? Dost doubt my words, sirrah?" With an effort he
controlled himself. "Nay, thou shalt see for thyself ere long. The
tube-road runs from Heracles to Heliopolis. Thou canst trace its
course on this map here on the wall."

"The dog-born devils of Jarmuth have no such means of travel,"
continued the Atlantean, with a touch of smug pride that reminded
Nelson of a small town Middle Westerner speaking of the "rightest,
tightest little town west of the Mississippi."

Nelson found it extremely weird to be sitting there in a heavy arm
chair, drinking good red wine with a fierce armor-clad warrior who
wore sandals, sword and a war cloak such as might have graced the
limbs of Alexander of Macedon. But with the food and rich warm wine,
he felt blood, strength and self-confidence pouring back into his
weary body. "Jarmuth?" he inquired. "What is Jarmuth?"

At his question the domineering, predatory face across the table
darkened and the scar on his cheek flamed red as a scowl of hatred
gripped Hero Giles' visage.

"Jarmuth!" snarled the Hero, and his great hand closed like a vise.
"Jarmuth! A nation of treacherous, gold-adoring cannibals, whose
countless hordes, spawned in the hot lowlands, ever threaten our
frontiers. I tell thee, Friend Nelson, the dog-sired Jereboam will not
rest until mighty Heliopolis lies in a heap of smoking ashes."

"Evidently," thought Nelson, taken aback at the other's vehemence,
"this lad's English only in speech. I guess he's all Atlantean outside
of that."

* * * * *

Warming to a fiercer pitch, the other fixed his guest with a
smoldering gaze. "Jarmuth lies beyond Apidanus, the boiling river, and
is the home of a sav