sand beside him. Better try to get to sleep again before Layroh started
some new disturbance with his infernal apparatus.

He was just settling down into his blankets when a movement in the tent
drew his attention back to it. Layroh was apparently changing the
position of the violet light, for his tall figure was suddenly
silhouetted against the tent wall in sharp relief.

Foster started in surprise as another figure loomed darkly beside that
of Layroh. For a moment he thought that the unprecedented had happened
and some member of the expedition was inside those jealously guarded
tent walls with Layroh. Then he saw that the figure must be a mere trick
of the shadows cast by the moving light upon some piece of luggage. It
looked like the torso of a man, but the head was a shapeless blob and
the arms were nothing more than boneless dangling flaps. A moment later
the light moved on and both shadows vanished.

Foster grinned sheepishly over the momentary start the distorted shadow
had given him, and determinedly rolled himself in his blankets to sleep.
It was after sunrise when he awoke. The rest of the camp was already up,
but there was one member of the party missing.

Jeff Peters' empty blankets were still spread there on the sand, but no
one had seen the big Negro since the camp turned in the night before.
The expedition's daily travels under the blazing sun of the Mojave never
had appealed particularly to Jeff, and he had apparently at last made
good his repeated threats to desert.

* * * * *

The men were just getting up from breakfast when Layroh finished packing
his tent and apparatus in his sedan, and started down toward the camp.
As usual, he halted some five yards away from them, standing there for a
moment in stony silence.

Physically, the man was a giant, towering well over six feet in height.
On several occasions when the expedition's cars had stalled in deep sand
he had strikingly demonstrated the colossal strength in his tall body.

His aquiline features, his red-bronze complexion, and his long black
hair, were all suggestive of Incan or Mayan ancestry. No one had ever
seen any trace of feeling or emotion upon his impassive features. Foster
would have given a good deal for just one glimpse of the eyes hidden
behind the dark-colored goggles. In their depths he might be able to
find some reason for the tingling surge of nameless dread that Layroh's
close approach always