ibute--if not to regain our beloved Altara. And
thou"--his heavy, golden eyebrows shot up--"and thou, what dost thou
wish?"

Nelson lowered the menacing barrel. "I want the return of Richard
Alden, free passage back to that spot where he was captured and plenty
of food and help should we need it. If I aid you in one, you must
promise me in the other."

"Aye," returned the other doubtfully. "But I myself can pledge naught
save thy immediate safety. 'Tis for our Imperial Majesty to say
whether both thou and thy friend shall live, or whether ye shall feed
our war dogs. Come now, we must go to Heliopolis."

[Illustration: _Map of Jarmuth and Atlans_]

Picking up his heavy, bronze helmet the Atlantean prince set it on his
yellow head and waited impatiently for Nelson to drain the last of his
wine. Then, with a swirl of his green cloak, he vanished through the
rock wall, closely followed by a singularly distracted and alarmed
aviator.

CHAPTER III

A bright yellow glare steadily increased to mark the end of the tunnel
down which the two had progressed; then, with the sharp abruptness of
a hand-clap, there resounded a loud challenge in that unintelligible
Atlantean language, above which the hiss of steam could be loudly
heard.

Instantly the Atlantean prince strode forward, a commanding figure.
Momentarily his helmet and the dangling grenadelike bombs were sharply
outlined against that unearthly yellow light. He raised his hand and
dropped it, palm outward, to his chin in what must have been a salute.
The hissing sound of steam then faded into silence.

Followed at a respectful distance by a pair of silent, bronze-helmeted
hoplites, Nelson and his guide descended a narrow stair, which
broadened at the base. It was a very long staircase composed of
perhaps two or three hundred steps which were occasionally interrupted
by wide stone terraces. On these level spaces were fixed what appeared
to be enormous field guns of glittering brass. They were similar, yet
somehow oddly dissimilar, to the great guns Nelson had seen in
France.

"Behold, oh Wanderer," Hero Giles declaimed impressively, "the lands
of Atlans and Jarmuth!"

It was a weird landscape that met Nelson's half-unbelieving gaze, a
landscape green with that brilliance peculiar to spring meadows, lying
beneath the same deep blue sky that overarched the surrounding barren
ice fields which hemmed in this astounding valley.

* * * *