een
loose lips. And the evening wind stirred the black, stringy hair while
it touched lightly upon the ends of a short length of vine about the
ape-man's neck, where only the ends could be seen, for the rest of the
pliant vine was sunk deeply into the flesh of the neck. It had been the
instrument of death; the ape-man had been strangled.

Chet tore his fascinated eyes from the revolting features of that purple
face; he forced himself to look beyond at what else might be on this
sacrificial stone. And, as he saw the assortment of fruit that was there
on a green mat of leaves, the surprise was even greater than would have
followed a repetition of the first discovery.

A naked, murdered man!--and ripe fruit! What was the meaning of this?
Chet asked himself a score of questions and found the answer to none.
But one thing he knew now beyond a doubt: Herr Professor Kreiss had been
wrong. This was truly an altar for the performance of unknown and savage
rites, and the altar itself and the whole encircling arena had been
created by some intelligence. People--things--embodied intelligences of
some sort had carved these stones. Chet was oppressed by a feeling of
impending danger.

His thoughts came back sharply to the things on the stone: the absurdly
contrasting exhibits: a naked body and fruit! But were they so
different? he asked himself, and knew in the same instant that they were
not. They were one and the same; they differed only in kind. They were
both food!

* * * * *

From the darkness beyond came a shuffling of feet. From the black
passage someone was coming--drawing near to the portal--and coming
slowly, steadily through the dark. The pad of animal feet would have
been unnerving--or the stealthy footfalls of an approaching savage--but
this was neither; it was a scuffing, shuffling sound. The sweat stood
out in beads on Chet's forehead and a trickle of it reached his eyes. He
dashed it away with the back of his hand while he drew silently into the
shadow of the overhanging stone. He held his breath as he watched in the
darkness.

His pistol came noiselessly from his belt. Yet, how could he fire it? he
asked himself in a moment of frantic planning. Only seven cartridges
left!--they would need them all; and to fire now would bring more
enemies upon them. He returned the gun to his belt and stooped to weigh
a fragment of stone in his hand: this must serve him as a weapon.

The draggi