th lowering brows and angry, threatening eyes.

"Harken," Hero Giles greeted them. "By Poseidon's grace the Wanderers
were saved from a vile death. Rise Heroes, and bid them welcome!"

"Ah, the Wanderers!" In an instant Hero John was wringing Nelson's
hand. "Oh blessed hour! I had feared for ye both. Welcome, Hero
Alden!"

A faint flush crept over the young man's wan and trouble-lined face.
"'Tis well ye've come," he whispered. "The council was prepared to
change their intent towards ye."

A grizzled, one-eyed prince arose, and leveling an accusing forefinger
at Nelson shouted, "'Tis he hath caused the rebellion. Slay him!"

"Nay!" thundered the Hero Giles, "and forget not, Hero Paul--_I_ am
senior Prince of Atlans!"

* * * * *

In the great white marble council chamber silence fell, while from
wonderfully carved ivory and gold chairs the harassed, yellow-bearded
princes regarded the two uneasy Americans.

"Hearken, Hero Giles!" rasped another dark-browed officer in a plain,
much-dented red breast plate. "I side with Paul. Away with them, I
say! Time is too precious. Do not the dark hordes of Jereboam beat
back our frontiers?"

Hero Giles glowered and sat bolt upright in his chair--a strange
disordered figure among his gorgeously robed and armored peers. "Thou
wert ever a hothead! I prithee pause a moment! Remember how the
dark-haired Wanderer once aided our imprisoned Emperor, whom Poseidon
protect! Perchance, Hero Nelson and his friend once more can aid us in
this, our hour of need."

A chorus of variously opined voices broke out, while Nelson with an
eye to possible violence stood ready.

"Silence! Sirrah!" The fierce old veteran banged a powerful fist on a
golden dolphin head forming his chair arm. "This idle wrangling
accomplishes naught, and a thousand weighty matters await our
attention. Is it true the phalanxes at Tricca have risen for the
priests?"

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Map of Jarmuth and Atlans_]

Before Hero Giles could reply, a stalwart guard at the door flung it
open to admit a dust and sweat-bathed courier who, darting forward,
flung himself at Hero Giles' no less dusty feet. While the
yellow-haired Prince started back muttering in amazement, the runner
raised a shaking hand.

"Woe, woe to Atlans!" he panted. "Jarmuthian retortii men have crossed
the boiling river. Cierum is fallen! Its garrison is drenched in
clouds o