deous features of the red
Mole-men, and knew that the white color of the face was as false as
that of the golden body.

But he was their leader. He was someone of importance. Rawson had
started forward impetuously when he saw the figure rise. At the first
motion the hands of every red one in the room were flung in air. They
stood stiffly at salute. Even the priests' coppery arms flashed
upward. And "Phee-e-al!" a thousand shrill voices were shouting.
"Phee-e-al! Phee-e-al!"

Rawson stopped, then walked slowly forward, one defenseless, naked man
of the upper world, between two living walls formed by men of a hidden
race.

"Phee-e-al," he was thinking. "He's the one I saw coming into their
temple back there. They got out of our way when they knew we were
coming to see him. He's the big boss here, all right."

He did not pause in his steady, forward progress until his hands were
resting upon the golden barrier. Strange thoughts were racing through
his mind. Phee-e-al, he was facing Phee-e-al, king of a kingdom ten
miles or more beneath the surface of the earth, a place of devils more
real and terrible than any that mythology had dared depict. And he,
Dean Rawson, a man, just one of the millions like him up there in a
sane, civilized world, was down here, standing at a barrier of gold
before a tribunal that knew nothing of justice or mercy.

* * * * *

Thoughts of communicating with them had mingled with other half-formed
plans in his racing mind. Sign language--he had talked with the
Indians; he might be able to get some ideas across. He met the other's
fierce scrutiny fearlessly, then, waiting for him to make the first
advance, let his gaze dart about at closer range. He could not
restrain a start of surprise at sight of his own clothing, his pocket
radio receiver and his pistol spread out on a metal stand.

They had been curious about them. Rawson took that as a good sign.
Perhaps he had been mistaken in his interpretation of what he had
seen. For himself, he could have no real hope, but it might be that
the outpouring of these demons into his own world was a threat that
lay only in his own imagination.

His eyes came back to meet that gaze which had never left him. The
eyes were mere dots of jet in a white and repulsive face. The rounded
mouth opened to emit a shrill whistled order.

In the utter silence of the great room one of the copper-skinned
priests moved swiftly toward t