heading west. Your speed--a thousand kilometers an hour--it's too fast.
Turn back, Zar Peter!"

He tore the loud speaker of the radio from its fastenings. West! He
wanted to go west! On and on he sped, becoming more and more familiar
with the workings of the little vessel as he progressed. A cooling
breeze whistled from the opened ports, a breeze that smelled of the sea.
His heart sang with the wonder of it all. He could fly. And fly he did.
Zar Peter? Never! He knew now where he belonged; knew what he wanted.
He'd find the coast of North America. Follow it until he located New
York. A landing would be easy, for had not the voice instructed him in
the use of the gravity-energy? He'd make his way to the lower levels, to
the little book shop of Rudolph Krassin. A suit of gray denim awaited
him there and he'd never discard it.

* * * * *

Onward he sped into the night, which was falling fast. He held to his
westward course like a veteran of the air lanes. The pilot had ceased to
breathe and Karl was sorry. Game little devil, that pilot. Have to shove
his body overboard. Too bad.

Rudolph's brother would understand. He'd be watching in the detectoscope.
And the others--those who had wished to seat him on a throne--they'd
understand, too. They'd have to!

Rudolph would forgive him, he knew. Paul Van Dorn--his own cousin--the
secret agents of the Zar would never locate him! Too many friends of
Rudolph's were of the red police.

He gave himself over to happy thoughts as the little aero sped on in the
darkness. Home! He was going home! Back to the gray denim, where he
belonged and where now he would remain content.

The Ape-Men of Xlotli

_By David R. Sparks_

A beautiful face in the depths of a geyser--and Kirby plunges into
a desperate mid-Earth conflict with the dreadful Feathered
Serpent.

CHAPTER I

Kirby did not know what mountains they were. He did know that the
Mannlicher bullets of eleven bad Mexicans were whining over his head and
whizzing past the hoofs of his galloping, stolen horse. The shots were
mingled with yelps which pretty well curdled his spine. In the
circumstances, the unknown range of snow mountains towering blue and
white beyond the arid, windy plateau, offering he could not tell what
dangers, seemed a paradise. Looking at them, Kirby laughed harshly to
himself.

As he dug the heels of his aviator's boots into the stallion's flanks,
the anima