ds. They were regarding
him from shining, expectant eyes. Only the girl kept her face averted.
Rawson spoke to none of them; the exclamations that his amazement and
dismay wrung from his lips were meant for himself.

"It's concave! It curves upward! I'm on the inside of the world! And
that sun is the center! But what holds us here? What keeps us from
falling?" He passed one hand heavily across his eyes. The excitement
of the moment had lifted him above the weariness of muscle and mind.
Now fatigue claimed him.

"Sleep," he said dully. "I've got to sleep. I've got to. I'm all in."

Gor was beside him in an instant. "Whatever you wish is yours," he
promised.

* * * * *

Rawson was to remember little of that journey toward the habitations
of this people. Gor had spoken at times along the way: "... the Land
of the Central Sun.... The People of the Light, peaceful and happy in
our little world...."

Rawson had roused himself to ask: "Who it at the head of it? Who is
the king, the ruler?"

And the tall man beside him had answered humbly: "Always since the
beginning one named Gor has led. My father, and those who came before
him; now it is I. And when I have gone, my little son will take the
name of Gor."

He had glanced toward the girl and his voice had dropped into the
soft, liquid syllables of their own tongue. She had smiled back at
Gor, though her eyes persistently refused to meet those of Rawson.

Again Gor spoke in words that Rawson could understand.

"I think at times," he said, "it is my daughter Loah, my little
Loah-San who really rules. I, knowing not who you were, did not
approve of this expedition, but Loah insisted. She had seen you,
and--" A glance from the girl cut him short.

The words lingered in Rawson's mind when he awoke. The horrible
experience of the past days were no longer predominant. Even his own
world seemed of a dim and distant past.

* * * * *

He awoke refreshed. He was in a new world and, for the moment, he
asked nothing except to explore its mystery. He bathed under a
fountain in an adjoining room, and grinned broadly as he wrapped the
folds of the long golden loin cloth about him.

"As well be dead as out of style," he quoted. "And now to find Gor and
Loah, and see what the devil all this is about--a talking mountain and
a buried race that speaks first-rate American."

Gor was waiting for him in a room whose tran