ain, and follow."

"Wait a bit, Rador," this was Larry. "Does Lugur know this side
entrance? If he does, why not let Olaf and me go back to the opening
and pick them off as they come in? We could hold the lot--and in the
meantime you and Goodwin could go after Lakla for help."

"Lugur knows the secret of the Portal--if he dare use it," answered
the captain, with a curious indirection. "And now that they have
challenged the Silent Ones I think he _will_ dare. Also, he will find
our tracks--and it may be that he knows this hidden way."

"Well, for God's sake!" O'Keefe's appalled bewilderment was almost
ludicrous. "If _he_ knows all that, and _you_ knew all that, why
didn't you let me click him when I had the chance?"

"_Larree_," the green dwarf was oddly humble. "It seemed good to me,
too--at first. And then I heard a command, heard it clearly, to stop
you--that Lugur die not now, lest a greater vengeance fail!"

"Command? From whom?" The Irishman's voice distilled out of the
blackness the very essence of bewilderment.

"I thought," Rador was whispering--"I thought it came from the Silent
Ones!"

"Superstition!" groaned O'Keefe in utter exasperation. "Always
superstition! What can you do against it!

"Never mind, Rador." His sense of humour came to his aid. "It's too
late now, anyway. Where do we go from here, old dear?" he laughed.

"We tread the path of one I am not fain to meet," answered Rador.
"But if meet we must, point the death tubes at the pale shield he
bears upon his throat and send the flame into the flower of cold fire
that is its centre--nor look into his eyes!"

Again Larry gasped, and I with him.

"It's getting too deep for me, Doc," he muttered dejectedly. "Can you
make head or tail of it?"

"No," I answered, shortly enough, "but Rador fears something and
that's his description of it."

"Sure," he replied, "only it's a code I don't understand." I could
feel his grin. "All right for the flower of cold fire, Rador, and I
won't look into his eyes," he went on cheerfully. "But hadn't we
better be moving?"

"Come!" said the soldier; again hand in hand we went blindly on.

O'Keefe was muttering to himself.

"Flower of cold fire! Don't look into his eyes! Some joint!
Damned superstition." Then he chuckled and carolled, softly:

"Oh, mama, pin a cold rose on me;
Two young frog-men are in love with me;
Shut my eyes so I can't see."

"Sh!" Rador was warning; he began whis