ortured face.

"Helma," he whispered, "I go a little before! Soon you will come to
me--to me and the Yndling who will await you--Helma, _meine liebe!_"

Blood gushed from his mouth; he swayed, fell. And thus died Olaf
Huldricksson.

We looked down upon him; nor did Lakla, nor Larry, nor I try to hide
our tears. And as we stood the _Akka_ brought to us that other mighty
fighter, Rador; but in him there was life, and we attended to him
there as best we could.

Then Lakla spoke.

"We will bear him into the castle where we may give him greater care,"
she said. "For, lo! the hosts of Yolara have been beaten back; and on
the bridge comes Nak with tidings."

We looked over the parapet. It was even as she had said. Neither on
ledge nor bridge was there trace of living men of Muria--only heaps of
slain that lay everywhere--and thick against the cavern mouth still
danced the flashing atoms of those the green ray had destroyed.

"Over!" exclaimed Larry incredulously. "We live then--heart of
mine!"

"The Silent Ones recall their veils," she said, pointing to the dome.
Back through the slitted opening the radiance was streaming;
withdrawing from sea and island; marching back over the bridge with
that same ordered, intelligent motion. Behind it the red light
pressed, like skirmishers on the heels of a retreating army.

"And yet--" faltered the handmaiden as we passed into her chamber, and
doubtful were the eyes she turned upon the O'Keefe.

"I don't believe," he said, "there's a kick left in them--"

What was that sound beating into the chamber faintly, so faintly? My
heart gave a great throb and seemed to stop for an eternity. What was
it--coming nearer, ever nearer? Now Lakla and O'Keefe heard it, life
ebbing from lips and cheeks.

Nearer, nearer--a music as of myriads of tiny crystal bells, tinkling,
tinkling--a storm of pizzicati upon violins of glass! Nearer,
nearer--not sweetly now, nor luring; no--raging, wrathful, sinister
beyond words; sweeping on; nearer--

The Dweller! The Shining One!

We leaped to the narrow window; peered out, aghast. The bell notes
swept through and about us, a hurricane. The crescent strand was once
more a ferment. Back, back were the _Akka_ being swept, as though by
brooms, tottering on the edge of the ledge, falling into the waters.
Swiftly they were finished; and where they had fought was an eddying
throng clothed in tatters or naked, swaying, drifting, arms
tossing--like