the bridge, and Wes, the yells of
Hrihor and his men loud in his ears, followed.

Midway a long spear snaked after him. It missed by inches, and went
pitching into the gulf. In his haste he caught his foot on the
interlaced thongs, stumbled and almost fell--which saved his life, for
another spear streaked through the very spot he had been a second
before. Then he was across, and his sword was flashing in vicious
hacks at one of the two main supporting thongs of the bridge.

The hide was tough, but Craig's strength was that of a desperate man,
and in several mighty strokes he severed it. The framework slumped to
one side, held only by one thong. Hrihor, half across, croaked in
sudden horror and sprang back as he saw the stranger raise his blade
to carve through the other support. But even as the sword swept down a
spear streamed from a warrior's hand and thudded against Wes's right
shoulder.

His sword jarred loose. It fell into the chasm.

"Thou art hurt!" cried the girl. Wes grinned wryly.

"Nay," he said, "but weaponless. Lead on!"

* * * * *

They were now on the other side of the chasm in the tunneled volcano.
The priests had hesitated a moment when the bridge had slackened; but
now, seeing the weaponless man and girl disappear in a tortuous
corridor ahead, they sidled across the damaged catwalk after their
fierce leader.

"They will go past the Temple!" Hrihor shrilled. "It is Taia who leads
him: again she tries to escape to the land of ice! Follow--up here!"

His words were true. The corridor that led by the Temple was the one
which led to the only other passage up to the crater of the volcano.

But Taia had guided Craig only a few steps past the place of worship,
now a silent vault of impenetrable blackness when, turning a corner,
the American felt her shrink back.

"Shabako comes!" she told him faintly.

Quickly he verified it. Led by the Pharaoh himself, a party of
soldiers was coming down the corridor some thirty yards away. Even as
Wes saw them, they saw him--and Shabako's roar of sudden alarm tingled
his ears.

Priests behind, soldiers and the blood-lustful Pharaoh ahead. They
were cut off, blocked, trapped. There was no nearby branch passage to
run down; there was no way to turn. It was the end of the game.... But
no, not quite, Craig told himself grimly. His sword was gone, but his
fists would tell on them before he went down, before the paws of the
idol fina