be obeyed--Georg Brende, soon to be husband of your Princess--"

But they would not hear him out. The din from them submerged his voice.
His lips snapped tight as abruptly he ceased talking; his brows lowered
grimly and I saw his finger press upon the cylinder.

Maida's voice screamed: "Georg! Have mercy! Do not kill them!"

She spoke barely in time. His cylinder swept upward. The rays from it
caught only the upper portions of the palms and the tree tops. The
foliage withered, shriveled before that soundless, invisible blast.

Not a blast of heat. The mob, surprised, then frightened, stared upward.
The soft tropical foliage in a great wide swath was dead, with naked
sticks of limbs. Black, then turning white. Not with heat--but cold. Ice
was forming from the moisture in the humid air. And then the sudden
condensation brought snow--a thick white fall of it sifting down into
the palm-laden garden; falling gently, then swirling in a sudden wind
which had begun.

As though itself stiffened by the cold just overhead, the mob stood
transfixed. Then a murmur of horror came. And I saw through the veil of
whirling snow, that into some of the trees _slaans_ had climbed. Their
bodies, frozen now, slid and fell--black plummets hurtling downward
through the swirling snow-flakes.

CHAPTER XXV

_Immortal Terror_

To Elza, approaching with Tarrano on the tiny flying platform the City
of Ice, the place seemed truly like a child's dream of Fairyland. The
rude snow huts of the Arctic of our Earth were all that she had ever
conceived could be built of frozen water. Here, in the outskirts of the
city, she saw indeed, quite similar huts. But further in--ornate
buildings several stories high. She caught a vague glimpse of them only,
as the platform flew above them and descended in the center of the city.

They had passed over great outer encircling ramparts--a huge wall many
_helans_ long--built entirely of ice blocks--fortifications like that
fabled wall which in the dim history of our Earth had once encircled a
portion of the domain of the Yellow Race.

The platform came down before a central building--the Palace of Ice.
Even in this dim daylight of the Cold Country summer, the great building
gleamed and glittered resplendent. A building of many levels, storied
and winged, with spider bridges and aerial arcades connecting the wings.
Frescoed everywhere! ornate with carved design chipped in ice blocks
hard as marble. Roll