is time with an
empty, gleaming skull.

Garry thought once of his pistol, but knew in the same thought that he
could never reach it; the spear of Horab would crash through him at
the first movement. He dismissed the thought--forgot it--and forgot
all else in the fascination of beholding the sagging lips and the
scowling stupefaction on the black face of Horab. And slowly there
came to his throbbing brain an explanation.

One hundred summers, Luhra had said--Horab had meant to sleep for a
hundred years--and the machine that was to waken him had failed to
function. Ages beyond computing had passed, and these two only, the
black king and the girl, had survived. They had been directly beneath
the light; its flooding energy had brought them safely through the
dreamless years. But, for the others, it had been different.

Those nearest the light had responded to the vibrating call, but their
vitality was gone; their moment of life was short. As for the hundreds
who had felt the light but faintly--the skull told the story. They
had died as they slept, died thousands of years ago, and their
skeletons were all that remained to mock at their king and the
frustration of his plans.

* * * * *

But what was the purpose of the long sleep? Luhra's touch and her
soundless words supplied the answer.

"Why did he wish this?" her mind said, repeating his question.
"Horab's own country was lost; the yellow-ones from across the great
water had conquered and overrun it. But Horab had planted the seeds of
disease, and the yellow ones must all die in time. Horab is a king and
a worker of magic; he is in league with a devil; he learns his magic
of him. We of Zahn, all feared the magic of Horab--" She stopped at
the quiver of rock beneath their feet.

Garry's mind had cleared, but it was an instant before he knew that
the movement was not in his own throbbing head. Then the earth tremor
came unmistakably, and his thoughts flashed back to the mass of rock
above the mouth of the cave. If more quakes were coming they must get
out, and do it at once--

The black hand of King Horab cast the skull vindictively against the
wall, and the clatter of its falling fragments mingled with strange
oaths from the savage lips. Then he came toward the two and Garry
searched his mind desperately for some means of escape.

The trident spear was aimed, and Garry waited for the throw. He felt,
more than saw, the flash of ligh