ts, all mingled in one indiscriminate heap.

They were twisted, some of them, and bent; discolored, too, evidently
by flames. On some the stocks had been burned off.

Rawson's hands were suddenly trembling. There was one rifle that
seemed unharmed; he brought it out, and hardly heard the little
clatter that it made among the other weapons. An ammunition belt--he
slipped out a clip of cartridges, made sure they fitted his gun, and
threw one up into the firing chamber. He was fumbling for more of the
clips when there pierced through his tumultuous thoughts the
realization that he was hearing sounds not made by his own suddenly
clumsy hands.

* * * * *

Marching feet, whistling voices--they came from beyond the room's
farther end, beyond the entrance through which he had once been
brought a captive. He took one step back toward the broad tunnel, then
knew there were others coming there.

There was no possible avenue of escape. He threw himself in one wild
dive into the narrow space between the chests and the wall, and pulled
himself forward under the shelter of the one back-turned lid. The
rifle was still gripped in his hands.

By the sounds that came to him, he knew that the outer room had filled
with red warriors, and that another smaller group had come scuffing
from the passage where he had just entered. And, by the echoing cry of
shrill voices that shouted, "Phee-e-al! Phee-e-al!" he knew that the
ruler was near.

Then there were footsteps approaching the chest. A priest no doubt;
shrill whistling told of his anger. The concealing cover was jerked
outward and down, and Rawson, staring above him, saw not the coppery
face that he had expected, but the hideous white visage of Phee-e-al
himself.

For an instant the ruler of the mole-men stood half stooped in
petrified astonishment, and in that moment Rawson dragged himself to
his feet. No chance to use the gun--the other was upon him, his
gripping talons tearing Rawson's bare flesh. In one flashing thought,
Dean cursed himself for the uselessness of his weapon--he should have
taken a pistol, an automatic. Then, body to body with the savage, he
was dragged out over the chest.

* * * * *

He had been holding the rifle above him, as he struggled from his
cramped quarters. The savage had grabbed him about the shoulders, but
his hands were still free; they held the gun on high. And in the
second when he