turn over, he found
he could not. He opened his eyes and blinked.

He was back in the laboratory--lying bound, hand and foot, on the long
table.

The giant Hagendorff appeared over him, and his deep voice rumbled:

"Badly scarred and bruised, my little friend! Cats you have fought,
and birds, and each has left its mark. It was useless to run away last
night--not?"

Garth was suddenly too full of a weary resignation to even think of
speaking. Remonstrance, he knew, would avail him nothing. The long
struggle for freedom and life was over, and he had lost.

The assistant was apparently in good humor. He went on:

"Really, it is too bad, after that magnificent fight of yours! A
hawk--was it not? I was following your tracks, and had just reached
the beach when I see a great fuss on the water. A raft, I see! A bird,
attacking something on it! A little white figure, struggling! Well, it
is that easy. I unlock the boat and go to the raft and find my elusive
friend there, unconscious. So I bring him back here. He has forgotten:
we have an experiment to complete."

There was a fire of exultation in the man's eyes as they glared down
at the midget who lay on the laboratory table, just a few feet away
from the chamber of the machine. He reached out and ran a thick finger
over his victim's body.

"You do not deserve this," he said. "I should kill you outright--but,
graciously, I give you death in the machine. Yours will be the first
human body to be reduced to an inch; maybe less. This is your
martyrdom; for this, your name will live, along with mine, for having
perfected the process."

* * * * *

Garth Howard saw that the window was boarded tightly shut. Then
Hagendorff caught his eyes as, with a grin, he plunged a hand into a
pocket and drew forth the missing panel switch. He dangled it in front
of Garth.

"What you would have given for this last night, eh? With your wire to
pull the lever so carefully arranged! _Ach_, it was too bad!" He
shrugged, then picked up a screwdriver and turned to fix the switch on
the control panel.

The moment his back was turned, Garth gazed frantically around. The
fantastic fate he had striven so desperately to stave off was very
close now. What could he do?

Some tools lay on the table, just out of his reach, among them a pair
of cutting pliers. He stared at the pliers--an overgrown tool, half as
long as his own body. The twist of Hagendorff's wrist d