of the enemy's lines."

Rawson's tanned face had gone white; he knew the others were looking
at him curiously, all but the men at the tables whose pens were flying
furiously across the waiting scrolls. Before him the face of Loah,
suddenly wide-eyed and troubled, swam dizzily. He could scarcely see
it--he was seeing other sights of another world.

"They're out," he half whispered. "The red devils are out--and
Smithy--Smithy's gone!"

CHAPTER XX

_Taloned Hands_

Simple, pastoral folk, the People of the Light! In their inner world,
a vanishing world, where nearly all of what once had been a vast
country was now covered by the steadily encroaching sea, they had
resisted the degeneration which might easily have followed the
destruction of a complex civilization. Living simply, and clean of
mind, they had clung to the culture of the past as it was taught them
by their Wise Ones. And now the People of the Light had found a new
god.

Not that Dean Rawson had asked for that exalted position; on the
contrary he had tried his best to make them understand that he was
only one of many millions, some better, some worse, but all of them
merely humans.

His speaking the language of the holy mountain had convinced them
first. But when old Rotan, oldest and grayest of the mountain's
servants, went into a trance, then Rawson could no longer escape the
honors being thrust upon him.

"The time of deliverance is at hand," old Rotan said when he awoke.
His voice that so long had been cracked and feeble was suddenly
strong, vibrant with belief in the visions that had come to him.

They were in the inner chamber of the white mountain, where Dean
Rawson, heartsick, lonely and hopeless, had spent most of his time
listening to the voice from the outer world. Gor was there, and Loah;
and the writers had left their desks to gather around old Rotan, where
now the old servant of the mountain stood erect, his glistening eyes
fixed unwaveringly upon Rawson.

"Listen," he commanded. "Rotan speaks the truth. Never shall the
People of the Light return to the outer world; it is here we stay. For
now our world which is lost shall be returned to us." His eyes,
unnaturally bright, met the wondering gaze of his own people gathered
around, then came back to rest again upon Rawson.

* * * * *

"Dean--Rah--Sun!" he said. "'Rah'--do you not see? It is our own word,
Rah--the Messenger! Dean--Messenger of the