slightly. A tremor ran through the
entire mass of rock. And directly in front of Harley, less than twenty
feet from where he stood, a sort of half-moon-shaped curtain of rock
slid slowly up to reveal an enormous, staring eye.

Frozen with a terror such as he had never felt before in a life filled
with adventure, scarce breathing, Harley glared at the monstrous
spectacle transpiring before him. A hill was coming to life, A granite
cliff was growing animate. It was impossible, but it was happening.

The half-moon curtains of rock that so eerily resembled eyelids, blinked
heavily. He could hear a faint rasping like the rustle of sandpaper, as
they did so. One of the great leg stumps moved distinctly, independent
of the other one. Three columnar masses of rock--arms, or tentacles,
with a dozen hinging joints in each--slowly moved away from the parent
mass near the base of the head, and extended toward the Earth man.

Still in his trance, with his heart pounding in his throat till he
thought it would burst, Harley watched the further awful developments.
The eyelids remained opened, disclosing two great, dull eyes like poorly
polished agates, which stared expressionlessly at him. There was a
convulsion like a minor earthquake, and the mass shortened and
heightened its bulk, raising itself to a sitting posture. The three
hinged, irregular arms suddenly extended themselves to the full in a
thrust that barely missed him. They were tipped, those arms, with
immense claws, like interlocking, rough-hewn stone fingers. They crashed
emptily together within a few feet of Harley. Then, and not till then,
did the paralysis of horror loose its grip on the human.

He tore his ray-pistol from its holster and pointed it at the incredible
body. An angry, blue-green cone of light leaped from the muzzle, and
played over the mighty torso. Nothing happened. He squeezed the trigger
back to the guard. The blue-green beam increased in intensity, and a
crackling noise was audible. Under that awful power the monster should
have disappeared, dissolved to a greasy mist. But it didn't.

The light beam from the ray-gun died away. The power was exhausted. It
was only good for about ten seconds of such an emergency, full-force
discharge, after which it must be re-charged again. The ten seconds were
up. And the gigantic creature against which it had been directed had
apparently felt no injury from a beam that would have annihilated ten
thousand men.

T