e relics of earlier men and entered the room that
they had guarded.

The light stopped him for a moment. He puzzled over it; stared
wonderingly at a circle of glowing radiance in the roof of stone. It
reminded him of something ... the watch on his wrist ... yes, that was
the answer--some radio-active substance. His eyes came back to the
nearest chest, and he jammed the point of his corroded bar beneath the
flange of a tight-fitting lid.

* * * * *

The hidden room was cool, but Garry Connell wiped the sweat from his
eyes when he ceased his frantic efforts. The metal bar clanged loudly
upon the floor beside him. He stood, breathing heavily, his eyes on
the metal cover that refused to move. And in the silence there came to
him again that strange, prickling apprehension. He caught himself
looking quickly behind him as if to find another person there.

His eyes were accustomed now to the pale light, and the sculptured
figures on the walls stood out with startling distinctness. Garry
turned to look at the nearer wall and the figure that was repeated
over and over again.

It was a man, tall and lean, his robes, undimmed by the years, blazed
in crimson and gold. But the face above! Garry shivered in spite of
himself at the devilish ugliness the artist had copied. It was dead
black in color, with slitted eyes that had been touched up artfully
to bring out their venomous stare. The head itself rose up to a
rounded point that added to the inhuman brutality of the face.

He was seated on a throne, Garry saw, and other figures, less
skilfully carved, were kneeling before him. Again, he was standing
above a prostrate enemy, a triple-pointed spear raised to deliver the
final blow.

Silently, Garry let his eyes follow around the room with its
repetition of the horrible being who was evidently a king. Then he
whistled softly. "Nice kind of hombre, he must have been," he said.
And, "Boy," he told the carved image familiarly, "whoever you were,
you've been dead a long time, and I don't mind telling you I'm glad of
it."

He was slowly circling the first casket. Beyond it was the slender rod
with its mushroom head that seemed more like a bell as he looked from
below. The head's inner surface was emblazoned, like the figures on
the wall, with crimson and gold in strange designs. He saw now that
the base of it was connected with a smaller box, placed like the two
beside it on a stone pedestal.

He