rosperous nation. The
first part of the legend had been fulfilled.

Then, suddenly, chaos reigned. With a great thundering that shook the
ground upon which they stood, the gray tower exploded in crimson
glory; a great mushrooming blossom of red fire erupted skyward hurling
the assembled Tarthans to the ground where they lay in numbed stupor.

The thunderous report echoed across the plain ten thousand times
louder than the tolling of the clock. But aside from the initial
dulling shock, no Tarthan was injured because the crushing power rose
upward.

There was an expression of mute wonder on Bontarc's face. And he
thought: We have not seen the end of this. It is only the beginning.
But the beginning of what? Only Portox could have known. And Portox
was--where?

Bontarc started his car and moved across the plain sensing cosmic
events but not knowing....

Not knowing that the sound of the tolling clock had gone with more
than the speed of light across the void, had been flung arrow-straight
to a brooding mansion in the heart of a thick forest upon another
planet; to the door of a cavern deep in the rock beneath the mansion.

That even now the lock of this door had responded to the electronic
impulse and the huge panel was swinging slowly open.

CHAPTER III

_The Man in the Cavern_

As the sound of the tolling clock died out across the Plains of Ofrid,
a man opened his eyes on the planet far away and saw for the first
time the place in which he had spent one hundred years.

He awoke with neither fright nor surprise but rather with a sense of
wonder. He arose slowly from the great bed upon which he had lain and
allowed his attention to roam about the strange place in which he
found himself.

In the wall opposite the bed there was set a full length mirror and as
the man turned he saw himself for the first time; a tall,
broadly-muscled figure of heroic proportions. Completely naked, his
body was reflected as masculine perfection in every detail.

For a few moments, the man stared at the body as though it belonged to
someone else. Then he spoke musingly. "You did your work well, Portox,
my friend."

The sound of his own voice startled him but not so much so as the
content of the words. A baffled expression touched his handsome face.
Who was Portox? And what work had he done? What place was this--and
for that matter, who was he himself, this naked figure which looked
back at him from the glittering mirror