ame director for a long time; and since he
seems still in charge, must be high in Pryak's favor."

Wotar may have heard the whispered words, for he glanced sharply in
Katon's direction. The glittering eyes stopped at the sight of Tharn,
taking in the graceful contours and swelling thews beneath the clear
bronzed skin.

"You," Wotar said quietly, crooking a long forefinger at the cave-man.

At first, Tharn did not fully comprehend; but when two of the priests
laid hold of his arms, his doubt was gone.

"Goodbye, my friend." Katon's voice was sad. "We shall watch for your
return."

"I will be back," Tharn promised from the doorway. Then he was gone, the
great door crashing shut behind him.

* * * * *

Tharn, preceded and followed by guards, was led along the corridor to
where it ended before a narrow door. In response to Wotar's knock it
opened, disclosing a small chamber almost filled with a miscellany of
weapons of every type known to prehistoric man. An attendant stood in
the center of the room, awaiting instructions from the director.

"No weapons," Wotar said briefly. He turned to the cave-man. "You are to
go directly to the arena's center and wait for whatever I send against
you. Make a good fight of it and the crowd will be for you. That can
mean much to you. If you manage to kill your opponent, return here at
once. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Wotar nodded to the attendant and the arena door was opened, flooding
the room with sunshine. Tharn, blinking in the sudden light, stepped
out on to the white sands of Sephar's Colosseum.

That which met his eyes was something Tharn was never to forget. The
sandy floor was perhaps three hundred feet in length and half as many in
width--a perfectly symmetrical ellipse surrounded by a sheer stone wall
twelve feet in height. Beyond that wall the spectator stands began, tier
upon tier of stone benches sloping up and back for fifty yards to the
last row.

The thousands of seats were filled with a shifting mass of humans, most
of whom had risen as Tharn came into sight.

Never before had the cave-man seen so many people at one time; and the
noise and confusion affected him exactly as it would any jungle denizen.
His first instinctive impulse was to retreat, not because of fright, for
he knew no fear, but because it was strange and unpleasant and, worst of
all, there was that infernal din which only man of all animals can long
endure.