teetering at their heels on its tripod legs.

From half its length the darting snake streamed red rain.

I heard a sigh from Ruth; wrested my gaze from the hollow; turned. She
lay fainting in Drake's arms.

Beside the two the swathed woman stood, looking out upon that slaughter,
calm and still, shrouded with an unearthly tranquillity--viewing it, it
came to me, with eyes impersonal, cold, indifferent as the untroubled
stars which look down upon hurricane and earthquake in this world of
ours.

There was a rushing of many feet at our left; a wail from Chiu-Ming.
Were they maddened by fear, driven by despair, determined to slay before
they themselves were slain? I do not know. But those who still lived of
the men from the tunnel mouth were charging us.

They clustered close, their shields held before them. They had no bows,
these men. They moved swiftly down upon us in silence--swords and pikes
gleaming.

The Smiting Thing rocked toward us, the metal tentacle straining out
like a rigid, racing serpent, flying to cut between its weird mistress
and those who menaced her.

I heard Chiu-Ming scream; saw him throw up his hands, cover his
eyes--run straight upon the pikes!

"Chiu-Ming!" I shouted. "Chiu-Ming! This way!"

I ran toward him. Before I had gone five paces Ventnor flashed by me,
revolver spitting. I saw a spear thrown. It struck the Chinaman squarely
in the breast. He tottered--fell upon his knees.

Even as he dropped, the giant flail swept down upon the soldiers. It
swept through them like a scythe through ripe grain. It threw them,
broken and torn, far toward the valley's sloping sides. It left only
fragments that bore no semblance to men.

Ventnor was at Chiu-Ming's head; I dropped beside him. There was a
crimson froth upon his lips.

"I thought that Shin-Je was about to slay us," he whispered. "Fear
blinded me."

His head dropped; his body quivered, lay still.

We arose, looked about us dazedly. At the side of the crevice stood the
woman, her gaze resting upon Drake, his arms about Ruth, her head hidden
on his breast.

The valley was empty--save for the huddled heaps that dotted it.

High up on the mountain path a score of figures crept, all that were
left of those who but a little before had streamed down to take us
captive or to slay. High up in the darkening heavens the lammergeiers,
the winged scavengers of the Himalayas, were gathering.

The woman lifted her hand, beckoned us once more