at."

I protested, "We are not fools. I told you if you would spare us,
return us safely to Bermuda when this is over--"

"That you might be of help to me," he finished. "Well, perhaps you
will. I hope so. You will do what you can to help, willingly or
otherwise; that I know." His voice was grimly menacing. And he
laughed sardonically. "You are no fools, as you say. And Jane--" His
glance went to her. "Perhaps, before we are through with this, you
may even like me, Jane."

Whatever was in his mind, it seemed to amuse him.

"Perhaps," said Jane.

We three had had only a moment to talk together. There had been no
possibility of escape. It was obvious to us that Tako was the leader
of these invaders; and, whatever they were planning, our best chance
to frustrate it was to appear docile. Safety for us--the possibility
of later escaping--all of that seemed to lie in a course of
docility. We would pretend friendliness; willingness to help.

Tako was not deceived. We knew that. Don, in those two or three
hours we were with Tako before starting upon the transition, had
said:

"But suppose we do help you in your scheme, whatever it is? There
might be some reward for us, eh? If you plan a conquest, riches
perhaps--"

Tako had laughed with genuine amusement. "So? You bargain? We are to
be real friends--fellow conquerors? And you expect me to believe
that?"

* * * * *

Yet now he seemed half to like us. And there was Jane's safety for
which we were scheming. Tako had been interested in Jane. We knew
that. Yet she was at first little more to him than one of the girl
captives. He might have left her with those others. But she was with
us now, to stay with us upon this journey, and it was far
preferable.

"This way," said Tako. "We will walk. It is not far to my encampment
where they are preparing for the trip."

It seemed that a vast open country was around us. A rocky, almost
barren waste; a mountainous region of steep gray defiles, gorges and
broken tumbled ravines. A void of darkness hung overhead. There were
no stars, no moon, no light from above. Yet I seemed presently to
see a great distance through the glowing deep twilight. The glow was
inherent to the rocks themselves; and to the spare, stunted,
gray-blue vegetation. It was a queerly penetrating, diffused, yet
vague light everywhere. One could see a considerable distance by it.
Dim colors were apparent.

We trod the rocks wi