ed spaces stretched. I was
conscious once more of that unusual flow of energy through every vein
and nerve.

"Follow the crowd!" said Drake. "Do you feel just full of pep and
ginger, by the way?"

"I am aware of the most extraordinary vigor," I answered.

"Some weird joint," he mused, looking about him. "Wonder if they have
any windows? This whole place looked solid to me--what I could see of
it. Wonder if we'll get up against it for air? These Things don't need
it, that's sure. Wonder--"

He broke off staring fascinatedly at the pillar behind us.

"Look here, Goodwin!" There was a tremor in his voice. "What do you make
of THIS?"

I followed his pointing finger; looked at him inquiringly.

"The eyes!" he said impatiently. "Don't you see them? The eyes in the
column!"

And now I saw them. The pillar was a pale metallic blue, in color a
trifle darker than the Metal Folk. All within it were the myriads of
tiny crystalline points that we had grown to know were the receptors
of some strange sense of sight. But they did not sparkle as did those
others; they were dull, lifeless. I touched the surface. It was smooth,
cool--with none of that subtle, warm vitality that pulsed through all
the Things with which I had come in contact. I shook my head, realizing
as I did so what a shock the incredible possibility he had suggested had
given me.

"No," I said. "There is a resemblance, yes. But there is no force about
this--stuff; no life. Besides, such a thing is utterly incredible."

"They might be--dormant," he suggested stubbornly. "Can you see any mark
of their joining--if they ARE the cubes?"

Together we scanned the pillar minutely. The faces seemed unbroken,
continuous; there was no trace of those thin and shining lines that
marked the juncture of the cubes when they had clicked together to form
the bridge of the abyss or that had gleamed, crosslike, upon the back of
the combined four upon which we had followed Norhala.

"It's a sheer impossibility. It's madness to think such a thing, Drake!"
I exclaimed, and wondered at my own vehemence of denial.

"Maybe," he shook his head doubtfully. "Maybe--but--well--let's be on
our way."

We strode on, following the direction the Metal Folk had gone. Clearly
Drake was still doubtful; at each pillar he hesitated, scanning it
closely with troubled eyes.

But I, having determinedly dismissed the idea, was more interested
in the fantastic lights that flooded this columned