rched on his strange,
half-human steed, let his gaze follow up every branching tunnel and
widespread cave. Not all of these were as dark as the broad
thoroughfare they followed. In some, strange lights glowed, and Rawson
saw weird, towering plant growths that yellow workers were harvesting.

Life, life, everywhere, and seemingly this underground world was
endless.

Troops of red warriors passed them, upward bound. The dancing flames
of their weapons, where occasional ones were in action, glowed from
afar. They bobbed and waved like green fireflies as the Mole-men came
on at a half-run.

"And this means trouble up top," he thought. "There's going to be hell
to pay up there."

But workers, fighters, everyone they met stood aside to let the red
guard pass. Again Rawson heard the strange word or call that had come
to him in the temple of fire. One of the guides would give a whistling
call that ended in the same strange shrill cry of "Phee-e-al," and
instantly the way was cleared.

A wild journey, incredible, unreal. Rawson, as he met the countless
staring white eyes of the creatures they passed, found his thoughts
wandering. He had had wild dreams. Surely this was only another in
that succession of phantom pictures. Then, seeing the cold, implacable
hatred in those staring eyes, he would be brought back with sickening
abruptness to a full knowledge of his own hopeless situation.

"Gevarro, the lake of fire which never dies"--what was it the white
ones had said? But no, that certainly was a dream like that other in
which he had seemed to see the charred body of a man, the sheriff who
had called to see him at his camp in Tonah Basin.

Dreams--reality--his brain was confused with the wild kaleidoscope of
unbelievable pictures.

* * * * *

He was suddenly aware that through it all he had been mentally
tabulating their route, remembering the outstanding features when
there was light enough to see. He knew that unconsciously his mind had
been thinking of escape. Wilder than all the other visions, he had
been picturing himself retracing his route, alone, free. He did not
know that he had laughed aloud, harshly, hopelessly, until he saw the
curious eyes of his red guard upon him.

"Yes," he told himself in silent bitterness, "I could find my way
back, if...."

The guard had swung off from the great tunnel which must have been one
of the main thoroughfares of the Mole-men's world. They c