e round, blue-white disc of the Eye
had suddenly disclosed itself. And simultaneously a violet flare shot
up above the moving hosts of the Drilgoes in the middle of the
causeway.

Out of the center of the Eye that blinding searchlight streamed. And
the pillar of violet fire rose up to counter it, clove it in two, as a
man cuts off the tentacle of a cuttlefish, and left it groping
helplessly above the heads of the Drilgoes.

* * * * *

To and fro wavered the blue-white beam, and like a protective wall the
violet column spread and extended, till the air was interlaced with
the play of the two colors. Streaks of white shot through streaks of
purple and black neutral clouds twirled, swirling in ghostlike forms.
It was a scene inconceivably beautiful, and it was impossible to
realize what must be happening out there.

Men must be dying, withering like stubble in the blue-white flames,
whenever they caught them. And yet, under that play of colors, Jim
could see the vast host crawling forward to the assault.

* * * * *

He held his breath. It was sublime and terrible, and on the result of
that conflict depended--what? What difference, when all this was
forgotten history, antedating the written records of the human race?

Then of a sudden the blue-white rays were seen to win. They were
beating down the violet light. Like living fingers they pierced that
protective wall, flinging it back, until only the tall central pillar
remained. And then for the first time the sound of combat became
audible.

A groan of despair, of defeat, of hopelessness. The black stream was
recoiling, turning upon itself. In the vivid glare of the white light
it could be seen dissolving, breaking into a thousand pieces,
streaming back toward the land. And, as it broke, the blue-white light
pursued, eating its way and blasting all it met. Atlantis had
triumphed.

Another sound was audible. From the city it came, a whirring as of
innumerable grasshoppers, increasing till it sounded once more like
the tapping of innumerable woodpeckers. Suddenly the night broke into
whirling balls of fire.

Lucille cried out. Jim leaped to his feet to see more clearly.

"It's men with wings," he cried. "Scores of them. They're hurling
something at the Drilgoes!"

* * * * *

The clacking of the wing mechanism filled the air. Now the fugitives
from the Drilgo host wer