. The crushing pressure
was relaxed. He went reeling to the floor, as the great coils whirled
high into the air.

He was stunned by the fall, his body inert and relaxed. But he knew
through it all that from somewhere above there was shrieking of
gas--blue, roaring fires--a flame that tore blastingly into a writhing
contortion beyond.

The tall figure of a priest was bending over him, but it was the voice
of Winslow that was in his ears--a blessed, human voice--when he
awoke.

"Thank God, I made it," the voice was saying, over and over. "Thank
God, I found the ship and got back here in time!"

There was light within the cavern. The burning fungus was extinguished
by the smothering coils that had crashed upon it, but beyond was a
waving plume of yellow where a blue flame shot against a wall of rock.

And Jerry, through the stress and riot of emotion that overwhelmed
him, laughed chokingly, wildly, at the words of his companion.

"It is sodium," Winslow was saying in explanation, as he saw Jerry's
eyes resting on the light. "A hydrogen flame, but there's sodium in
the rocks that turns the flame yellow. I rigged up a flame-thrower of
hydrogen."

"You would," Jerry gasped through hysterical laughter. "You would do
just that, and make your way back to this hell just to save me--you
damn fool inventor!"

* * * * *

He clung to Winslow, who was raising him to his feet. Marahna was
beside him, robed in the golden garment of the priest. She placed her
hands beside his face to turn him toward the further wall. The light
was fickle, but it showed him, as it rose and fell, the blackened,
swollen body of the monster, still writhing in its death struggle. And
beside it, blasted and charred, the head of the obscene sun god,
severed by the cutting, obliterating blast, lay flabby and black in a
silent heap.

"Rather effective," said Winslow complacently, "though I didn't have
much to work with. Two small vials of my liquid and a hand generator
to furnish the current. A tubular strut from the frame of the ship
made the blow-pipe."

"And these?" Jerry questioned, and pointed to the priest's vestments
that Winslow still wore.

"Oh, it was all quiet up above," said the inventor, "and I came down
the rope. But there was one of them waiting at the bottom. He didn't
need these any more when I left, so I took them to help get about--"

He stopped, to cross quickly and pick up the flame-thrower as