ent to the anvil.

A man was chained across it.

A man in torn, grimy clothing, fastened with fetters of green metal
upon wrists and ankles, so that his body was stretched beneath the
massive hammer. He seemed to be unconscious; upon his head, which was
turned toward Larry, was a red and swollen bruise.

The monster which had dropped Larry within the pen rose again into the
air. And Larry started forward, trying to remember just what Agnes had
told him of a machine to which the monsters sacrificed.

This must be the machine--this ancient steam hammer!

As he moved forward, Agnes came into view.

* * * * *

She walked around the massive base of the great machine, carrying a
bowl filled with a fragrant brown liquid. She stopped at sight of
Larry, and uttered a little cry. The bowl fell from her hands, and the
fragrant liquid splashed out on the ground. Her brown eyes went wide
with delighted surprise; then a look of pain came into them.

"Larry, Larry!" she cried. "Why did you come?"

"To get you," he answered, trying to speak as lightly as he could.
"And the best way I knew to find you was to let one of the monsters
bring me. Cheer up!" But even to himself, his voice had a tone of
discouragement.

She smiled wanly. "I don't see anything to be cheerful about." Her
small face was set and a little white. "Dr. Whiting is going to be
smashed under the hammer of this dreadful machine, whenever the steam
is up. Then it is my turn. And yours. That's nothing to laugh about."

"But we aren't smashed yet!" Larry insisted.

"By the way, what was that in the bowl?" he went on, glancing down. "I
forgot to bring lunch." He grinned.

She looked down, startled.

"Oh. Dr. Whiting's soup. Poor fellow, I'm afraid he'll never awake to
eat it. There's plenty more. Come around here."

She picked up the bowl and led him around the base of the machine;
then she filled the bowl again with the fragrant, red-brown liquid,
from a tall urn of green metal. Larry took the dish eagerly and gulped
down the rather insipid and tasteless food.

"And the monsters worship this old steam hammer?" he inquired, when
his hunger was appeased.

"Yes. I think the thing is worked by steam generated by volcanic heat.
Anyhow, there isn't any boiler, and the steam pipe comes up out of the
ground. You can see that. So it runs on, without any attention--though
I guess the heat is dying down, since it is several days betw