What is your name?"

He replied in a strange, strained, twisted voice. Maskull gathered that
the name he gave was "Dreamsinter."

"What is that drumming?"

"Surtur," said Dreamsinter.

"Is it advisable for me to follow it?"

"Why?"

"Perhaps he intends me to. He brought me here from Earth."

Dreamsinter caught hold of him, bent down, and peered into his face.
"Not you, but Nightspore."

This was the first time that Maskull had heard Nightspore's name since
his arrival on the planet. He was so astonished that he could frame no
more questions.

"Eat this," said Dreamsinter. "Then we will chase the sound together."
He picked something up from the ground and handed it to Maskull. He
could not see distinctly, but it felt like a hard, round nut, of the
size of a fist.

"I can't crack it."

Dreamsinter took it between his hands, and broke it into pieces. Maskull
then ate some of the pulpy interior, which was intensely disagreeable.

"What am I doing in Tormance, then?" he asked.

"You came to steal Muspel-fire, to give a deeper life to men--never
doubting if your soul could endure that burning."

Maskull could hardly decipher the strangled words.

"Muspel.... That's the name I've been trying to remember ever since I
awoke."

Dreamsinter suddenly turned his head sideways, and appeared to listen
for something. He motioned with his hand to Maskull to keep quiet.

"Is it the drumming?"

"Hush! They come."

He was looking toward the upper forest. The now familiar drum rhythm was
heard--this time accompanied by the tramp of marching feet.

Maskull saw, marching through the trees and heading toward them, three
men in single file separated from one another by only a yard or so. They
were travelling down hill at a swift pace, and looked neither to left
nor right. They were naked. Their figures were shining against the black
background of the forest with a pale, supernatural light--green and
ghostly. When they were abreast of him, about twenty feet off, he
perceived who they were. The first man was himself--Maskull. The second
was Krag. The third man was Nightspore. Their faces were grim and set.

The source of the drumming was out of sight. The sound appeared to come
from some point in front of them. Maskull and Dreamsinter put themselves
in motion, to keep up with the swiftly moving marchers. At the same time
a low, faint music began.

Its rhythm stepped with the drum beats, but, unlike the latter, it
did