aired girl, sprawling
her helpless on the bloody stones; and, before Nelson could quite
realize it, the slender, silver hued form lay limp and helpless
between Beelzebub's bloody claws.

* * * * *

Like a dynamo furiously gathering speed, so buzzed Nelson's brain. He
was going to save her--if only for a brief interval! One man against a
nation. Through a raging mist of fury he saw the red-robed priest
raise his lean arms; then the American's bound hands darted beneath
the blue chiton to reappear immediately. No one saw the pistol, for
every eye was rivetted upon the gleaming, sickle-knife of the red
priest. Like a voice from hell, that eery scream burst again from
Beelzebub's throat as his priest stepped near, the knife raised.

Amid a deafening roar the sickle-knife flashed higher; but it never
fell, for the red priest suddenly reeled, clutched his chest and,
staring wildly, staggered sidewise, while the assembled priests stared
thunderstruck. The deafening roar of Beelzebub, the clamor of horns
and cymbals had drowned out the report. In superstitious awe the
Jarmuthians leaped back, panic-stricken, from the convulsively
writhing body of the red priest, which rolled crazily down the steps
before the idol; but a high shout of terror rang out as he toppled off
the summit and, like a discarded puppet, plunged down the precipitous
side of the cone-like tower.

Again Nelson's pistol spat, and two of the executioners collapsed in
kicking agony. Like an avenging fury, the American raged about the
summit, the pistol in his bound bands dealing death right and left
until panic seized the remaining priests, who, with one accord,
abandoned their weapons to rush headlong down the dizzy, winding
roadway. In a trice, none but Altara, Nelson, the two Atlanteans and
the fallen priests remained on the summit.

* * * * *

It was the work of a moment for the Atlanteans to cast loose Nelson's
bound wrists, and he theirs; time was precious, for, from below, a
furious cohort of spearmen were charging up the stairs, their dark
features terrible in their wrath.

"Only four more shots!" The sickening realization dashed into Nelson's
brain. "That'll never stop them." Then in the midst of his despair he
saw an answer. Stepping back he fired twice full into the great steam
coil circling the base of the idol.

_Spang! Spang!_ His bullets smacked through the copper coil to
punc