an the rest.

"That's the way I'm goin'," announced Spud. "I know that, and it's all I
do know; I'm goin' down till I find some place where the devils live and
where Chet may be."

The passage took him smoothly down. It turned at times, and smaller
branches split off, but he followed the main corridor that he had
selected for his route. And he paused, at last, beside a metal frame in
the rock wall, where the door that fitted so tightly in the frame was
not like the others he had seen. For the first ones, though cleverly
fashioned and machined, were of iron, rusted red with the ages; while
this one that was before him now was paneled and decorated with sweeping
scrolls. And, above this portal that seemed hermetically sealed, was a
white figure such as Chet had seen.

* * * * *

Spud's gaze traveled up to it slowly, and his knees were trembling as
they had not done when facing the black-winged ones. "'Tis an angel," he
whispered, "or the statue of one! And that explains it all. 'Tis them
that has done all this--these passages, and the sweet-fittin' doors. And
do they live here? I wonder. Heaven help me if I meet them, for never
could I shoot at one of them, the pretty things!"

He was still gazing in rapt wonder that was near to worship when the
great door began to move. He saw the first hair-line crack, and the thin
line of light was like a hot wire across his eyes, so quickly did he
respond. Beyond, where he had not yet gone, was a branching passage. All
the walls glowed softly with light--no shelter of darkness was his--but
Spud leaped for the little passage and raced down it until a turn
screened him from sight.

"That's movin'!" he congratulated himself. "What an athlete I'm
becomin'!" And it was fortunate for the pilot that the ceiling was high,
for his tremendous Earth-strength propelled him in unbelievable bounds.

He still moved on silently, for far ahead in the corridor something had
caught his eyes. And he stopped finally beside a little car; then saw
that he had been following a single rail, buried under the dust of ages
on the corridor floor.

The monorail car lay on its side. At one end of it was a motor. Not a
motor such as men had built, Spud confessed, but an electric motor none
the less. And beyond this, where the passage ended, was a wall veined
thickly with gold.

* * * * *

Ropy strands of the metal shone reddish-yellow in the s