plained painstakingly to
himself. "It's the king, the old boy himself! I said he would be a bad
hombre; I said he was a bad one--"

He saw the other raise his hands threateningly, and he crouched to
meet the attack. But the black hands dropped, and the scowling face
turned, while Garry's eyes followed toward a sound of movement in the
second casket.

The green light flooded down, and Garry Connell glanced quickly at the
doorway. Too many of these blacks and this would be no safe place for
him. He was expecting another apparition like the first; he would have
thought himself prepared against any further surprise, but his gray
eyes opened wide at what the light disclosed.

* * * * *

There was the casket, gray and lusterless on its low, stone base. Its
cover, like the others, stood erect, and above the nearer edge an arm
was raising. But it was a white arm, and it ended in a slim, white
hand!--its rounded softness held in clear outline against the back
ground of gray, until the arm fell that the hand might grip the metal
edge.

Garry's eyes held in wondering fascination upon those slender white
fingers. The hand of a woman--a girl!--what marvel of miracles was
this? He held his silent pose while he stared at the face that
appeared before him.

It was milk-white against the dull gray metal beyond, the white of
death itself, until returning circulation brought a flush of pink that
crept slowly to the rounded cheeks. Dark hair cascaded about the
shoulders to mingle with a lacy veil of golden threads. A film of
golden lace wrapped about her--her robes had gone to dust, vanished
with the vanished years--and only the threads of gold with which the
robe was shot remained, a futile concealment for the slim white of her
shoulders, the soft curves of rounded breasts. But Garry's eyes were
held by the eyes that looked and locked with his.

Dark eyes, deep and steady, yet glowing softly with the wonder of this
awakening. Windows, crystal clear, through which shone softly a light
that filled him through and through!

Alluring as was the rounded whiteness of the form so thinly veiled, it
was not this nor the childlike beauty of the face that held him
spellbound. Garry Connell's only love had been the desert, and now he
was filled and shaken by the glamour from within these thrilling eyes.

A rasping word made echoes in the silence, and Garry saw the girl's
eyes widen as she turned them upon th