tear it loose. He was _dead_--what mattered a few
seconds more or less of life? And then a thrill shot through him as he
knew his right hand was free.

That hand made fumbling work of drawing a gun from its smoking,
leather holster. He could hardly control the numbed, blistered
fingers, yet somehow he crooked one about the trigger; and dimly, as
from some great distance, he heard the roar of the forty-five....
Then, from some deep recess within him, he summoned one last ounce of
strength that threw him clear of the falling body.

Instinctively he had heaved himself away from the fiery rocks; the
same effort had sent his big coppery antagonist staggering, stumbling,
backward. And Dean, sprawled on the stone floor, whose heat where he
lay was just short of redness, heard one long, despairing shriek as
the giant figure wavered, hung in air for a moment in black outline
against the fierce red of a rocky wall above a white-hot pit, then
toppled, pitched forward, and vanished.

Sick and giddy, he forced himself to draw his body up on hands and
knees. Then he straightened, came to his feet, and staggered forward.

* * * * *

Below him was pandemonium. The sea of faces wavered and blurred before
his eyes. From a distant archway other figures were coming. He saw the
gleam of metal, heard the wild blare of trumpets, and knew that the
hundreds of red ones below him were standing stiffly, both hands
raised upright in salute as another barbaric figure entered. The air
was clamorous with a shrill repeated call. "Phee-e-al!" the red ones
shrieked. "Phee-e-al!"

But Rawson did not wait to see more. Behind him, the flames that had
been fed with human flesh--if indeed these red ones were human--roared
again into life. He had returned the pistol to its holster when first
he came to his feet; his weak hands had seemed unable to hold it. And
now his two hands were thrust outward before him as he staggered
blindly toward the tunnel mouth.

It was where he had emerged upon the platform. His reaching hands
found the side entrance where the stairs led down to the main hall.
In the darkness he made his way past. Stumbling weakly he pushed on
down the long tunnel whose floor slanted gently away.

Ahead of him was a light. The comparative coolness of these rocks had
served to revive him somewhat. He had no hope of escape, yet the light
seemed comforting, somehow.

He stopped. His stinging eyes were wide op