The Queen of the Panther World

Written by Berkeley Livingston

Illustrated by Rod Ruth

Originally published in Fantastic Adventures, July 1948

PART 1

It was a strange world, this world of Amazons and panthers - where all men bowed their heads in fear of the great Queen Luria …

IT DO NOT say that adventure can not begin anywhere. Of course it can! And usually does. But let us speak of specific places. I once met a Metropolitan baritone singing in a cheap honky-tonk on west Madison Street. He said it was the only place he knew of where he could act as he wished, drink what he wanted and talk to the people he wanted. And fight with whom he pleased. Turned out he had once planned on being a fighter until some rich woman heard him sing....

I was once a skip-tracer for a collection outfit and followed a man all the way to Mexico City; he owed a certain merchant fifty thousand dollars and had the money. And while I was trying to locate this skip the police of Mexico City thought I was an international agent and dogged my steps until one night they thought they had something on me and clapped me in the calaboose and held me incommunicado for twenty-four hours before I could get in touch with the consulate....

But let me be even more specific. It began on a wondrous spring day.

Summer was not quite ready to thrust its heat against us, the air was warm and fragrant with growing things, I had a couple of bucks in my kick and I had just fallen out of love. I believe I said it was a wonderful day ...? Well, I'd called Henry Sharpe the night before and we had made plans to go to Brookfield Zoo where the animals can come up close and sneer at the humans.

"A weekday's best," Sharpe said as I slid into the seat beside him. "Sunday brings out the week-end nature lover and his camera. Besides, the animals aren't quite so bored on a week-day. Maybe...."

"Maybe what?” I asked. I wasn't looking at him but was watching him get out into the traffic of La Salle street.

"Nothing," he said shortly. He was looking straight ahead but there was an odd crinkle to his forehead as though he were thinking of something which bothered him.

We parked and began the long walk to the animal houses. As Hank had predicted there weren't many people about. I saw a group of school children herded by their teacher moving determinedly toward the aviary. But our paths did not converge. Sharpe is the fastest walking little man I've ever known. I'm not on the big side myself and it's always been a problem keeping up with him unless I go at a half-trot. After some few hundred yards, I was getting a bit winded—

"Hey! Take it easy. We got all day," I said, panting heavily.

"Sorry, Berk," he said. “But it's such a relief getting away from those damn drawings. . . . Besides, I'm anxious to see something."

"So am I," I said. "But at the rate we're moving I'll need a chair to see them in. I'm that pooped."

We slowed after a while to a more sedate run. By that time I'd given up the struggle and was dragging my tail ten feet behind Sharpe. I had been so busy just keeping pace with him I hadn't even noticed where he had made his goal. I leaned my weight over the iron rail and looked across the moat to where the animals lolled in the sun. The scene was a rocky bit of jungle land. There were painted limitations of rocks, bushes, trees, and a small grotto led to the inside cages. There were some four of them there, great black things, panthers all; mama, papa and a couple of baby panthers which didn't look any different than their parents. At least their teeth were no smaller when they yawned.

ONE OF them rose and strolled to the edge of the moat and fell to his haunches and stared at us out of his great yellow eyes. There's something about the big cats, lions, tigers, panthers, the whole feline tribe, down to the smallest tabby, that reaches right down and pulls at the atavistic remembrances of man. I felt the hair rise at the nape and knew my breath was catching as the beast looked at the two of us. It was as though I could reach through the bone and fur to that tiny brain and pluck out what lay there. It was as if he was saying, five minutes out there and we'd see who'd be boss.

"That's right, baby," I said aloud. "But you're in there and I'm out here...."

“Huh?” Hank whirled to me.

I grinned and told him what I had been thinking of. But the grin was wiped from my lips at what I saw in his eyes. They were just wild in excitement.

“So you heard it too,” he said. “Heard what?" I asked. “What the panther said."

“Now wait a minute. I didn't hear anything! A picture formed in my mind of what the beast might be thinking if he could think."

He turned back then and looked at the beast. I saw that his fingers were white against the rail. I saw too that the knuckles were bloodless. Something was wrong. I puzzled over it then turned my attention to another of the tribe. This one I hadn't seen before. He was coming out of the semi-darkness of the grotto into the sunlight. I gasped at the size of him. He was the biggest panther I'd ever seen, a full seven feet from head to tail-tip. He stalked out into the sunlight and stood poised, the only movement a sinuous twitch of the black tail. I don't know how the beast at the lip of the moat heard or knew of the other's presence, but before our amazed eyes, it turned and leaped to ward the other with a blood-chilling scream of anger.

I heard Hank's sibilant intake of breath, heard the muted, "Aah!” that came from his lips. But my whole attention was taken by the drama be fore us.

The giant panther waited the coming of the smaller one with the utmost equanimity. It didn't do any more than face the other. Not even its tail twitched. Yet when the smaller one was but a few paces away; in fact the other had already leaped in a wild lunge, then the big beast moved. But when it moved it was a greased streak of black lightning. I have never seen anything move so fast. One second it was facing its adversary, the next it had reared and slashed at the bundle of charged dynamite which had flung itself at him. There was but a single blow. There must have been terrific power in that paw to do what it did. For the smaller beast was flung a good five yards through the air. It landed heavily on

its back, rolled over and began to drag itself toward the other. I saw then that its back had been broken by the blow. I let a whistle escape my lips.

There was more to come. As though the smaller one's leap had been a signal all the others converged on the single monstrous thing in the center of the arena. Only this time the immense beast did not wait for the attack. It leaped like a bolt straight for the largest of its enemies. I didn't know that the big cats felt or knew fear. At least not till then. But as the huge thing left its feet, the smaller one turned and leaped screaming for the protection of the grotto. And behind it came the others. I turned quickly to the remaining one. It stood facing the grotto mouth after it landed. There was a snarl on its mouth and the huge canines turned me cold inside.

I COULDN'T take my eyes from the monster. It moved so slowly, so premeditatively. I watched it move toward the maimed panther which had stopped its futile movement and lay stretched full length on the ground. The big one approached the other at an angle. When it was only a few feet away it swerved and came in from the rear. The beast on the ground must have had an intuitive idea why because it tried to turn to face the enemy. Before it could complete the turn the big one was on him. It was over quickly. A single, bone-crunching snap of the huge jaws and life departed for the broken-backed panther. It was then the keepers appeared.

A shuddering sigh was wrenched from Hank's lips as the keepers busied themselves with fire hoses, used, I sup posed for just such an emergency. The powerful streams of water hit the panther from three sides and drove him snarling backward to the grotto. When it finally disappeared into it a gate was lowered. I wanted to stay and see what happened then. But Hank had other ideas.

“No. I've seen enough," he said. "Be sides, I've got something to tell you."

We didn't go far, only to the place where the elephants stood, great brown splotches against the deeper brown of their surroundings. Hank made sure we were removed from the rest of the crowd before he began to talk.

"Berk, do you think I'm goofy?” he asked.

“The goofiest guy I know,” I said with a laugh. "I've always said that ..."

He should have smiled. He should have done anything but what he did, grab my wrist and pull me closer to him.

“Wait!” he said sharply. "I'm not kidding. Let me start from the beginning because that way I'll get things in order.

"In the first place you know the kind of guy I am about animals. Always traipsing off somewhere, to the Forest Preserve, or the dunes or some zop or other. Just because I like to see the animals, the big ones and the little ones. I've always been interested in them, as if there was a bond between us. You've often mentioned that I'm the only guy you know who can walk up to a cat, for instance and immediately it'll start purring. Or to a dog, no matter how big, and it'll eat out of my hand. Well, something strange happened last week. Brookfield opened then for the summer. Of course I was one of the first to get here.

"Well, through the years I've become pretty well-known out here and they let me have my run of the place. So the first thing happens, Joe Edson, the head keeper grabs me and drags me up to the big cat house. Takes me up to the panther cage and says:

“ 'Look, Hank.'

"Look at what?" I asked.

“'The size of that cat.'”

"Berk, it was the biggest cat I've ever seen. Now get this. Panthers are the smallest of the big cats. They're really small lions. But this baby, the same one we just saw was bigger than even the biggest lion. But it was a panther. It was a panther but for one thing, its canines. They were those of a tiger. Bigger, longer, Berk, than any tiger's.”

I was following him pretty good. So far he hadn't said anything to warrant the state of excitement he was in. But I hadn't heard everything.

He went on:

"Ed got a call from one of the keepers just then and I was left alone. The cat was in a far corner. Soon as Ed left the cat got up and moved close to the bars and faced me. He looked at me with those devil's eyes of his and his lips parted in a grin. Damn! It was almost human, that grin. I wondered where they got such a magnificent animal....Berk! I swear to God, this is what happened. The cat said, 'You wouldn't believe it if it were told to you.”

I KNOW I was smiling when he said what he did. And I know the smile was still on my face as I turned and looked him full in the eyes. But a cold rope dragged itself down my spine and of a sudden my hands felt clammy with sweat. He must have seen something of what went on in my mind because he went on quickly:

"Yeah! Sounds goofy. Really insane. But true. As I stand here with you, it's the truth. And there's even more. I guess I just stared at the damned cat. Suddenly it moved back and forth against the bars in that sinuous walk only cats have. After a few turns it came back and faced me again. It was just as though its mind was troubled and the turns it took enabled it to clear its mind for what it wanted to say. 'She brought me here to prove something. But now I'm in this prison and only she can get me out. You must help me....'

"There were words trembling on my lips but they simply wouldn't pass. I was speechless. Yet he read my mind. For he answered the words which had formed in me. 'You are the only person on this planet who can help me. Project your thoughts into the great void. Call, Luria....And when the answer comes, say that Mokar believes....'

"I guess I was in a sort of mental fog for a while after that because the next remembrance was of my studio. I sort of came out of the trance I was in and found myself on the couch. I know that I had left the zoo and driven back to the studio; I must have! Anyway, the first thought in my mind was what Mokar had said. I did it...."

"Did what, Hank?” I breathed softly.

“Called to this Luria.”

"And ...?"

"She not only answered, she came to me. Not in flesh," he hastily assured me. "It was a sort of picture I got of her. Oh, man! What a picture though. I deal in beauty. Now and then we run across some beautiful models. But this Luria ... Out of this world is the only way to describe her. Her skin was white as the proverbial snow and yet it had an odd pinkish glow to it. Her hair was mid night and it sparkled as though a mil lion snow flakes were reflecting light from it. She wore a breastplate which concealed her charms yet barely covered the swelling flesh so that my breath was taken from me. Below the plate she was bare to her loins which again were covered by a leather belt from which dangled a jeweled dagger. In her hand, the right one, she carried a spear with an immense blade, slim, and murderous looking.

"She was clothed in mist which swirled and eddied about her. Because of this strange mist the picture was none too clear except in glimpses. But the oddest part of the whole scene was a something that lurked in the back ground. Lurked is the only word for it. It was never clear at all. I got the feeling of a long body, wetly metallic-looking and covered by a serrated series of spines. But as I say, I'm not sure. May be that was the proof of my hallucinated state."

I released my breath in a sigh and said:

"The wrong one of us is writing. I'd say this dame brought out the poet in you, Hank. Never have I heard a woman described so. Now look...."

"I was sober. More sober than at any time of my life," he said, as though he knew what I was going to say. "But let me finish. The message of Mokar came to my mind and I saw her lips smile. They formed words and across the misty dimness came the answer, "Tell Mokar I shall come for him soon.” He hesitated for an instant, open and closed his mouth and finally said nothing.

"And that's the last you've ever heard of or seen the beautiful dream gal, Luria?” I said.

He shook his head, yes.

I DIDN'T know what to say. Hank Sharpe was my dearest friend. He was a mixture of the strangest things, for at one and the same time he was the most hard-headed, clear-thinking man I'd ever known; and at the same time the world's greatest romanticist. He spoke of the evil of man with a knowing look. Yet he could not believe evil of anyone. He was as small as I and even thinner, and no one has ever called me, big-boy, but he was as strong as a horse with hands that were like a carpenter's, tough and muscular. I've seen him slap a guy and send the guy all the way across a tavern floor with that slap. He had a head that was bit too large for the rest of him, with a face that was long and lean and handsome. And there was nothing I wouldn't do for the guy.... But this deal he was talking of sounded like a hashish dream.

It couldn't be, though.

There might be a way of finding out, I thought of a sudden. “Look, Hank," I said. "Let's mosey over to the cat house. I want to see something."

There was quite a crowd on the out side. Evidently the word of the fight had spread and they had gathered to see what there was to be seen. There wasn't much. What blood had flowed had been washed clean by the hoses. Of the cats nothing was to be seen. We strolled around and walked into the huge place. It was apparent which cage the panthers were in by the crowd watching. We joined the others.

Being on the small side we edged our way through the crowd until we stood against the iron railing which separated the cages from the spectators: The animals in the cage were restless. Whether it was the fight which had made them so or something else, they paced back and forth, growls rumbling deep in their throats and sometimes coming past the furry pockets. Oddly enough, the largest and most ferocious, the huge jet black beast whose name was Mokar, was the least restive. He lolled at his ease on the shelf which they used for resting and sleeping.

He was lying there until he spotted us. Then with an immense and effortless leap he was at the bars, his great yellow eyes searching our faces. Suddenly it happened. I swear Mokar smiled. Those fearsome lips parted in a huge cat's grin.

And Hank turned to me and said: "Let's go. He understood."

It was just too much for me. I shook my head and started to follow Hank.

But I hadn't done more than make a half-turn when he gripped my forearm so hard I yipped in pain.

"It's her," he whispered in a voice of awe.

Like a flash I followed the direction of his eyes and beheld her. I knew it was her. Yet she was like night and day as far as accuracy of description. Only in the small wave of hair which peeked beneath the hood of her coat was there something of what he'd described, the hair whose blackness held the sheen of a million reflected snowflakes. Her skin too was as he said. But that face! It was the face of a million men's dreams. So alluring, so innocent, eyes that begged for love, and knew only virtue, lips whose redness made one hungry for their touch, and a skin that was like a flower petal. I felt my fingers contract in a spasm, as though they had a will to fly toward that loveliness for a caress.

"Your friend likes me," the girl said.

She had spoken and in perfectly understandable English.

“I'm glad,” she went on. “Mokar will be too."

"He will?" I said.

“But of course. He has learned his lesson and I have found what I looked for. Now we will go out of this place of prison into the clean air. Come!"

IT WAS a command. And we followed. She led us directly to one of the open-air confectionery stands. She walked up and ordered an ice cream cone. I reached for the dime automatically. But Hank ordered two more and paid for them. She turned and walked to a bench close by. We followed as if we were tied to her by a string. So we sat, the three of us, munching on our cones until the last of them were licked up. All the while she sat and stared at anything and everything but us.

She sighed breathless after a while and still looking straight ahead, said:

"It is good not to be alone. Poor Mokar. He missed me and could not get through the valley of the mists to me. Luckily he found you, my friend."

Hank is a slow-acting guy most of the time. Then again he acts with the speed of a fighter throwing a counter punch. This was one of those times. Suddenly his hands imprisoned hers and he was facing her. "

"Uh, huh,” Hank said. "That's right. He found me and you found me. So that makes everything just right. But where does it leave me?"

She was innocence itself. "How do you mean?"

"Who are you? Where do you come from? What's this all about, this business with Mokar; how did you manage to hypnotize me into the dream I had?” Hank shook her hands imprisoned in his for emphasis.

She didn't answer immediately but looked down at her hands which were beginning to show a redness from the tightness of his grip. Hank flushed and released her hands. She threw back her head in an odd gesture and the hood fell away from those beautiful tresses which fell in a wonderfully effective wave about her shoulders. Even I, who can take my women or leave them alone, felt a thrill at the sight.

"I am Luria," she said. “You know that. And I come from the valley of the mists...."

"You come in dreams,” Hank said. "In dreams of mist and terror."

I gaped at the man. What the heck had gotten into him? He had turned so that his profile was to us. This time it was she who took the initiative. She took hold of his hands and began to talk:

"I came to you across the great void. It was hard for I was already here and I had to transpose my soul-self back to the place from whence I'd come. There is no other but you who can understand me. Yet we live side by side. Our worlds are the same. The same in the same time. Will you come back with me and live in this side-by-side world? The time has come when I have need of you...."

"Wait a minute, Hank!" I broke in before he could give this girl an answer. "Don't listen to her. It's some sort of gimmick she's got that's working you. I don't trust her."

"I do, Berk," he said. "I know she's in trouble. I guess I knew it, from the beginning. And I want you to come along with us."

"Oh boy!” I chortled in simulated glee. “Ain't that going to be just ducky. Come on along and play, he says. And how do we do that? Hold hands across a table while the lights are out and wait for the message?"

"You're not scared, are you?” he asked.

"Now we're playing kid games," I said. “I dare you...”

HE TURNED again so that he was facing her. "Is it possible to bring my friend along?"

She nodded. The wrinkle went out of his forehead and a smile lighted his face. He got up and stepped in front of me.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what?" I was mad. Yet at the same time I felt a thrill of excitement. 1f, I thought, if such a thing could be, why I could write of it later. Fame and fortune could be waiting for me at the end of the trail. But what the heck were we dreaming of? The whole thing was a lot of talk. Dream stuff and coincidence. I snorted loudly. Hank turned back to her and said:

"See. It's my personal charm. He can't resist it. It's because I smoke Regents. They give off that wonderful aroma and make me nonchalant. Also an outcast. Berk smells that way naturally."

"Mokar will be glad," she says. "He likes your friend."

“Yeah?” I said, quick-like. "Well, I like him too. Just where he's at, behind bars."

"Oh," she said just as quickly. "He won't be for very long. When you get to know him better you'll grow much more fond of him. He's so affectionate."

“Then he and Hank'll get along swell. Hank's an animal lover. Now why couldn't he have been crazy about fish? I've always been wild about mermaids," I said.

Hank hummed a bit about, "wild about Nellie." I was too far from him to get in a kick at his shins. Suddenly she rose. It was a movement that was as lithe and sinuous as an animal's. Her fingers threw the hood back around her hair. Hank started to join her but she shook her head.

"No. I must go alone..." she said.

"But how...?"

She knew what he meant. "I will come to you when the time comes," she said. "Nor will it be long."

I covered a grin. Now she was cooking with butane. So she was going to come when the time was ripe. I figured we'd better not hold our breaths that long. We'd probably be ripe too.

But Hank was all trust and hope. He acted like a kid with the promise of a day at the circus before him. His eyes were shining in anticipation of the day. Man alive! You'd think he was ten in stead of thirty. His eyes followed her trim, but very trim, figure until it dis appeared into the big cat house.

"Okay kid,” I said. "You can wake up. Dream's over."

His lips were bent in a crooked grin but his eyes were dark in some inner thought which was extremely pleasant.

“...Not yet," he said after a moment.

IT WAS some day in the week, I think Tuesday; at any rate it wasn't long after our visit to the zoo, that I got a phone call from Hank. I was busy on a fantasy for FANTASTIC ADVENTURES that had to do with flying disks and I wanted to get some of the facts in order. I had a fistful of clippings on my desk, a cigarette burning itself to death in the ashtray, and a brow full of wrinkles on my forehead. The phone at my side rang and I cussed it as I lifted it from the cradle.

“Yeah!”

"Berk!” Hank's voice crackled in excitement. “Come on over. But fast!"

Oh fine, I thought. He's been dreaming again. Then another thought pierced me through. Maybe ...?

“You mean ...?" I began.

"Right. Drop what you're doing and shoot out here."

"But look," I began. There was no need to go on, unless I wanted to talk to myself. He'd hung up. Believe me I was in just that mood, talking to myself, I mean. The disk story had to be on the editor's desk by Friday. And I had a good six thousand words to do on it yet. The air was blue with nasty words as I shoved the chair away from the desk and put the old money-machine away. Now why did Hank have to dream, I thought as I put on a pair of slacks! I work in shorts and nothing else. A tee shirt followed the slacks and then socks and shoes. I gave the desk a look of regret as I turned for a last look before closing the door. It was going to be a long time before I saw that desk or room again.

Hank shared a loft studio on north State Street with a couple of other artists. He was alone, sitting before his work desk. There was a half-finished pen and ink drawing on the board. He heard my clattering steps on the rickety stairs and met me at the door. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me into his part of the studio.

"Last night," he began without preamble. "She came to me. She said she would see me again this afternoon. She was in trouble. I saw it in her face. I've got to help her. Berk, we've got to help her."

I tried to throw some cold water on him. The whole deal had lost its appeal to me. What the heck! I had this story to do for the boss and besides ... I found a seat among the magazines on a chair and said:

"Now listen to me, Hank. I'm serious. I went along with this dream-book stuff you gave me because I thought it was some kind of a gag. I didn't know it was serious. But if it is you'd better see a psychiatrist. Hallucinations may be all right until they reach the stage where a man can't tell them from reality.

"I guess it's time we talked this thing over seriously. I don't know how it began but I can hazard a guess. I'll bet you went to a party with some of those wacky friends of yours and there was a hypnotist there. And so the gag was for him to use you as a guinea pig. I'll bet there was this gal we met, at the party. The idea being to see how far post-hypnotism would work. I've got to hand it to the lad who did the hypnotizing. He did an A-1 Job.”

“Uh uh,” Hank said. "You're wrong. You're ..."

We both noticed it at the same time. All of a sudden there was a terrific breeze in the room. I started to close the window, only I didn't make it. It was as if someone had glued me to the chair I was in. I could see, hear, smell, reason, but couldn't act. I was aware of what was going on only I seemed not to be part of it.

I say there was a great gust of blowing in the room. Yet not a paper stirred, not a leaf in the magazines turned. In fact not a material thing felt the wind's effect except Hank and myself. I saw his hair blowing about his face, saw his shirt collar flap against his chin and knew the same thing was happening to me. I was turned three-quarters to the window and though I couldn't turn completely I saw that not a leaf stirred on a tree directly outside the window. Not a bit of dust blew. And I even saw a man mop his brow below us. The wind increased and with it came a cloud of darkness. It's the only way I can de scribe it. It was a mist of inky blackness and it flowed up from out of no where. I tried to move out of its path. I could feel my muscles strain as I did my utmost to lift myself from its path as it rolled toward Hank and me. But though the sweat stood out on my fore head in huge damp drops and rolled down my arms and chest, all my efforts were unavailing. The black curtain enveloped us. It not only encircled us so that nothing was to be seen beyond it, it also did something to our minds. For suddenly all was darkness.

THERE was a dull feeling at the back of my head. And my neck felt stiff. I opened my eyes and looked blankly about me. We were both still sitting as we had been. Hank looked asleep. I shook my head and instantly realized the spell or whatever it was was gone.

"Hey! Hank! Wake up fella.”

As I called to him I rose from my chair. I groaned aloud as every bone in my body ached with the effort. My words seemed to have no effect. I staggered a bit in the few feet which separated us. My hand had little life in it as it shook him weakly. But it was enough. His eyes opened and looked dazedly about him. Then they began to focus and reason returned to their depths. The old grin appeared on them and he said:

"Well? What do you say now?”

I blew out my breath and sighed. Was nothing going to convince him? But of course. All he had to do was see the out side. I whirled and pointing through the glass, said:

"Lo-oo—yeow!" The last was a screech of horror. This wasn't State Street. This wasn't Chicago. This wasn't anything I'd ever seen. This was Hell!

We were no longer three flights up. We were at ground level. And what ground. It looked like some cataclysm of nature had ripped and twisted the ground in a mad convulsion. It was bare of foliage and brown and hard with huge boulders strewn about as if giants had been rolling them in a game of bowls. We seemed to be in a sort of hollow, like the bottom of a soup plate. I couldn't see what lay beyond the lip of the bowl. Hank must have seen the terror and bewilderment in my eyes. He rose and stepped to my side.

"Holy cats!” he breathed softly.

"I could think of other things," I said. "All appropriate to the landscape.”

“Save it!” he said sharply. "Let's take a look around.”

Too anxious I wasn't to see what there was to be seen. But I wouldn't have stayed alone in the room for all the tea in China. Matter of fact I hoped we were in China. But at the pit of my stomach was a feeling we weren't in China. It was the kind of feeling which said, brother, you're in the next place to where you've always said you're going.

If Hank had any fears they were well concealed. He moved along, head up and shoulders back like he knew exactly where he was going. My steps lagged but only a few yards behind his. We climbed the few feet to the lip of the earthen bowl and looked about. I know my mouth hung open and that to anyone who might have been looking on I played the part of an idiot very well. At least I had company.

THE ground fell away below our feet steeply for a distance of perhaps a thousand feet. Below us lay a sight to gladden the heart of any farmer. The ground was checker-boarded in neat patterns that sometimes were squares and sometimes rectangles and some times even triangles of color. There were trees, heavy-planted like park lands and we could see areas which looked dark with luxurious growth. The air was warm and fragrant and peaceful. It was a placid scene.

But only for a moment.

Immediately below us the ground was sheer. But to either side the slope was gradual. Suddenly there was a great snorting chorus of animal sounds to our right and we turned as one to see what made them. I've been scared before. But this was the first time I'd ever been so frightened that I knew what it was to be rooted to one spot.

Coming up at us with the speed of express trains were some ten or fifteen animals the likes of which I'd never seen. They were part lizard and part elk. There was the head of an elk mounted on a lizard's body. But such a lizard as I didn't believe existed. I didn't wait for Hank's shout of warning. I had already turned and started downward for the place we had just quitted. But my terror rose to a fevered pitch when I saw that there was nothing there. The room or vehicle of trans port into this strange and terrible world had disappeared. There was nothing but the convulsed earth and boulders.

It wouldn't have made any difference anyway. These monstrous beasts were too swift.

Now there was the sounds of voices about us, English voices; commands to halt, shouts of anger and some of speculation. Then above the others, a bull like bellow:

"Stop, fools. Stop ere we rip you apart!”

We came to a sliding stop and side by side waited for, I guess, death. The beasts ground to dust-clouded stops. Then as their riders dismounted they looked at us through their soft strangely gentle eyes. But there was nothing peaceful or gentle in the eyes or faces of the men who surrounded us. Oh no! They looked fierce and very unwelcoming.

I essayed a grin and swallowed hastily as the first of them came close. Beside me Hank's breath whistled shrilly as he tensed in anticipation of battle. Not that we stood any chance if there was going to be. Not with the way these babies were adorned.

Insofar as size was concerned they looked no bigger than most men from where we'd come. Nor were they any different in facial or physical characteristics, except maybe in fierceness of looks. It was just their get-up. They wore little helmets, serrated and adorned with a strip of feather. Their chests were covered by a wide strip of metal leaving their bellies bare. They wore gauntlets of the same metal and their legs were also covered to some three inches above their knees. The metal was very flexible because it gave as they walked. From their waists to where the leg covering began was a kind of link-metal skirt. It rang metallically as they moved about. There was a belt of leather about their waists. From it hung, on one side a dagger, and on the other a sword.

"Who are you? From whence come you?" asked one who was evidently the leader. He was the biggest and certainly looked the most fierce, a scar which ran the length of one cheek to his chin, giving him the most terrifying look.

My mouth opened and closed, opened and closed but no sound came out. It was Hank who took the lead:

"I am Henry Sharpe. And this is Berkeley Livingston," he said. “We come from-from Chicago," he ended weakly.

I knew how he felt. But what the devil were we to say to those questions.

THE leader of this strange troop 1 mulled the words over to himself as though they were some strange food he was tasting. His eyes were on the ground as he mumbled to himself. Suddenly they lifted and pierced us with their fiery glance. I felt my knees turn to water at that uncompromising stare. I knew I was too young to die.

"Of this place from whence you come I have no knowledge," the big guy said.

"Perhaps Loko may have. He is all wise. Mount these men and let us be off before we are discovered. We are still a long way from home.”

Immediately his men began a tune less whistling at which their strange mounts came trotting. One of them gave me a hand and I slid up until I sat just outside the pocket of the flat saddle they used. Hank too was lifted to the back of one of the elk-lizard deals and in an instant we were off. And I mean off and running. Man oh man! How those babies could travel! They'd have walked off with all honors at any track in the U.S.

I don't know exactly how long we rode. Time had no meaning. Our watches had stopped. The sun stood at the zenith all the time. All I know is that my back was sore, my legs were numb and that this character behind whom I was riding had never taken a bath in his life. The only thing which held meaning for me was the changes in scenery. For perhaps a mile after we started, the road or path or whatever it was we followed was level and flat. Then we came to a forest land into which we rode with the same abandon as before. The trees were thick and the branches often swept low so that I was continually ducking to stop from being swept off my mount. This went on for hours, it seemed. Then we were in the open again. But the topography had changed. The gentle slopes were gone. This was hill country, rough and a little frightening. We didn't ride directly upward but at a long slant. I didn't notice at first but later I did that we always rode where there was some sort of shelter. The open places were avoided with assiduous care.

My fears lessened or dulled, as the ride went on interminably, and I looked about with more appraising glances. For a land which held the appearances of care there were less people about than I would imagine there to be. Since the sun was always at zenith, time had little meaning, at least in the sense we have of time. This might be the time for sleep or dinner or lunch or breakfast for all I knew. At least they were reasons for the lack of activity in this weird place of ever-sunlight.

Suddenly I was hungry. But I mean hungry. It wasn't just a gnawing feeling. It was a flood of demands for food. My rider was in the center of the troop. Hank was up ahead somewhere not far from the leader. I was too far back to see the gesture which was the command to halt but there came shouted words from ahead:

"Halt! Eat. Eat...."

My rider kicked with his right heel at the leathery side of the beast we were riding and the monster slid to a halt. We slid off and joined the rest. I was stiff and sore as I found a seat beside Hank on a grassy hummock. There was a far-away look in his eyes and it wasn't one of hunger. For once my interest was not on his thoughts or mood. I was hungry.

I GUESS I looked my disgust when I saw the meal we were to have. It came from saddle bags which were attached to the animals we had been riding. My buddy strode up to me and held the unappetizing piece of leathery whatever-it-was in his hand.

“Well, bless your little," I said. “That's decent of you, old man, I must say."

He had a half smile on his lips as he stood there with the stuff in his hand. At my words the smile went away, but fast, and his free hand shot out and cuffed me alongside the jaw.

"I am not an old man!” he said in vicious tones.

Now, I'm a peace-loving individual.

The sort of guy, in fact, who will not just walk away from trouble, I'll run from it. Comes a tavern brawl and I'm the first to head for under the table. In an argument I'm the oil-spreader. So maybe it was that I was hungry and tired and sore. Or maybe I was guttier than I thought. But suddenly before I could reason I was on my feet and at this character.

I hit him with a left and right and another left and right, all on the puss. Then I shot one to his belly and he folded up like a wind-broken accordion. A last right, this one on the button, and he spun away for about ten feet to land flat on his back.

It all happened pretty fast. Faster than the telling of it. What happened after was just as quick. Instantly, the rest of these characters came at a run, the big guy who was boss-man at their head. He looked down at schmoe on the grass looking up at the blue, with vacant eyes, then looked at me. There was a puzzled glint to his eyes.

"What happened?” he asked.

I was surprised at the politeness of tone.

“I don't go for slapping around," I said.

"No? I must tell you then," he said in that same polite tone, "that certain formalities must be observed. As soon as Hago has recovered his senses he will ask for reprisals. It is the custom here, my friend."

“Yeah!” Hank said sharply, as only a Sharpe can ask. "And what will those be?"

“Edged with tips of steel of course," the big guy said casually.

"Hey!” Hank said angrily. "Berk doesn't know anything about dueling with swords."

Nor about dueling with anything else but my mouth, I thought. Maybe we could fight a duel that way. Of course I hadn't done badly with my fists....

The big guy shrugged his shoulders and all the metal he carried clanked an accompaniment. Hank brought up an other point:

"Besides, Berk doesn't have the protection of armor."

"Then it will be over quickly," the big goon said.

Suddenly Hank grinned. A fine time to smile, I thought. I was going to die, and Ray Palmer wasn't going to get that story after all, and all Sharpe the sharpy can do is laugh about it. My bosom buddy. My pal. Hank, I thought, if ever you ask me to listen to one of those corny jokes you like to tell, I'll throw Toe Miller down your throat.

"And what of Loko?” Hank asked. “Won't he be angry?"

The big guy stroked the scar on his cheek. He nodded several times as though in agreement with what Hank had brought up. Then he too smiled and I thought; Hank, bosom buddy, you're a prince. With the wit you're fast like a rabbit. Now why didn't I think of that?”

“Yes. Loko would be angry, especially if he knew there had been two of you and I brought only one in...."

BOTH Hank and I stopped smiling. D The familiar chill found its groove and raced down my spine. I didn't need an interpretation of what he said. In effect, the less Loko knew the less he would be angry about.

The rest of the gang, with the exception of Hago, had gathered around while the palavar had been going on. They ringed us in with a fence of steel for their swords were out. I looked from face to face and found nothing in any to give me hope of the future. I swallowed the lump which formed in my throat and wished I could be brave and come up with the kind of quip the usual story-book hero had in a moment like this. Blank. That was my mind.

But not Hank's. Oh, no. He had things to say. I wished he hadn't. Seemed like every time he opened his yap trouble came out.

"Is this how you welcome strangers?” he asked.

If nothing else the big guy liked to chew the fat!

“Strangers are never welcome here on Hosay. They are always troublesome. This way our troubles, and yours, incidentally, will soon be over, and the path of our lives will be smooth again."

“We didn't ask to come here,” Hank said.

That was a lie but at this point of the game I didn't think it made any difference.

“No-o? Then how did you come?”

“Luria made us,” Hank said.

By all that was holy, I'd forgotten about the gorgeous doll who had brought us this trouble. I remembered now and blessed her with a few choice epithets, none of which would look nice in print.

"Luria!” his voice rose until it almost sounded feminine. "She brought you across the void? Ho-ho! Loko will surely want to see you. Well, Hago can wait his vengeance for a bit. I don't think you will be leaving Hosay very soon....Well, we've spent enough time in talk. Let us eat and be off again."

Funny how my appetite got lost. I took maybe two bites out of the leathery stuff. But even though I'd lost my hunger I had to admit to the tastiness of the stuff. Then we were back in the saddle and riding hell-bent for wherever they were going. Whether my muscles had grown used to the grueling pace or just that I'd grown numb I don't know. But now I didn't feel so weary. So that in the end when we topped a rise and came to the valley which held the tribe of Loko, I felt an odd sense of awareness of things.

I say it was a valley. Actually it wasn't. But on first appearance it seemed that. Rather to be proper it was a plain which stretched for a vast distance and which lay between two ranges of hills that were not quite high enough to be called mountains. As we rode down the shallow pass which led to the city I speculated on the familiarity of the place. As we got closer I knew what the resemblance was. It looked like the stretch of pueblos in Taos, New Mexico. Of course there was the difference of soil conditions and mountain stretches. But I'm speaking of the habitations. Our coming had been noticed long before our arrival and a great number of riders came dashing out to meet us, all mounted on the elk-lizards.

They yelled, shouted and waved their swords about as they closed in on our small company. Pandemonium is a long word, but it's the only one which fit the situation. We must have stretched out for a good mile as we rode down the long street between the pueblos until we reached the most imposing, one that was a good five stories high.

This one was different from the rest in that instead of the ladder it had a broad staircase which circled about the entire structure. Then, while the others waited, Hank and I, between several guards, mounted the staircase and proceeded upward behind the big guy who was the leader of the troop.

AT THE fifth story we came to a " broad gate. There were armed sen tries standing guard before it. Through the open lattice-work of iron I could see other men standing watch. Whoever Loko was he liked protection. The big guy exchanged words with the guards, who in turn called something to those inside and the gates swung open. There was something ominous in the way those huge iron things closed behind us.

Once more we went on the march. We had come into a shallow courtyard. Birds of brilliant plumage sang from trees. The courtyard was circular with several entrances to the building we had as our goal. The center entrance was for us. Straight for it and into the coolness of a vast room where all was peace the big guy led us. Here we came to a halt. I looked about and wondered why we stopped here. The room had but a single entrance or exit, the doorway through which we'd come. The answer came in a few seconds.

Suddenly we started to rise, all of us. And I knew we were on a sort of plat form much like that of a stage. It was then I saw the openings high in the walls above. There were three, quite large. When we reached the level of these openings the platform stopped its ascent, and once more we stepped for ward. Again it was the center opening which was our goal. This too had guards and after the usual exchange of talk we were allowed entry.

It was a long rectangular room in which we found ourselves. At one end was a dais on which was a long table. There were six men sitting at this table. The walls of the room to either side of the dais held couches and seats. The room was empty but for the men up ahead. We were led forward until we stopped some fifteen feet from the dais. Then the big guy stepped forward.

“Mighty Loko," he began. “I am Captain Mita, in charge of the group who went in search of the holy Groana bird. I have come before your greatness with a strange story...."

All the while I'd been giving this Loko character the once-over. I didn't know he was Loko until Mita called him by name. But he was the sort of person you give a second and even a third glance. The trouble was I didn't look at the rest. Not until Hank nudged me and whispered from the side of his mouth:

"The women! Look at them."

It was small wonder that I hadn't noticed them. As I said, I thought there were six men up there in front of us. They were all dressed alike except Loko. Their uniforms were much like Mita's except they were more elaborate with jewels sending showers of varicolored lights at us. Then I saw the breastplates and realized for the first time that of the six people up there four were women.

The fifth was a giant of a man, easily, even though he was seated, better than seven feet tall. The sixth was Loko. He was dressed in a toga-like gown which fell in a straight line from his thin wrinkled neck to his feet. From the center of the toga straight down the center was a line of color demarcation. One side of the robe was a bright purple, the other a deep green. Then Loko started to talk, and I forgot all else:

"Who are these two? From whence come they? And how did you come upon them?”

CAPTAIN MITA related how he found us. All went well until he mentioned Luria. I thought they'd leap down our collective throats so great was their excitement. All but Loko. His lean face didn't show a muscle change and his eyes peered narrowly down at us as though their piercing glance could read what lay beneath the flesh and bone of our foreheads. Their voices rose in shrill cacophony, the gist of which was we ought to be put to death immediately. Suddenly Loko raised a thin arm which shook slightly.

“Peace! This chattering, as though you were but birds in the courtyard to whom had been cast seed. Peace, I say!

"Are your minds so dulled by the games of war that they see only what lies on the surface? Look ye well on these strangers. Do they have the look of any men we know? They have not spoken their minds yet but I'll warrant their speech is foreign as their attire. They knew not of swordplay. One used his fists as a weapon. But all this non observance can be forgiven. It is in the misconstruing of the fact they knew Luria that I speak. Let me assure ye they are accidental arrivals here on Pola. There are some things which are as open pages to us. But the art of trans posing humans from one plane of time to another is the closed page which not one of us can open, for we have not the key. Not even Luria, the all-wise woman.

"Oman, the father of Luria, was the wisest man who ever lived. The small knowledge I have was gained at his knee. But even he, with all the secrets of the ancients at his mind's disposal could not do that. I do not say that she, in some fashion known only to her, was able to bring them across the great void between the land of the eternal mists, from the place from whence they came to Pola. But only these two came.

"I do not know who they are or why they were brought here, but look ye well on them. Can ye see the smallest sign in them which would bring harm to us or disturb the smallest detail of our plan?”

The old character was right. We were a couple of harmless schmoes. As far as I was concerned I had had my fill of this place. All I wanted was to be put back on that black cloud and taken back to that place, 'from whence we'd come.'

"However," he went on, "it would be of great interest to us to find how, where and when Luria managed all this. Shall we ask them?”

Mita's boys acted too fast for us to do anything about it. They were well trained. Loko had barely finished talking and our arms were pinioned behind our backs. I started to struggle but gave up as the guard's arms tightened about me. Yet a strange fact registered at the back of my mind, a fact I was going to put to use later, I knew. This guy holding my arms behind me was straining all his muscles in the effort and yet if I wanted to I could have quite easily broken his grip.

The guy who had been sitting beside Loko was better than seven feet tall. The instant we became helpless the five of them left their companion on the dais and swarmed about us.

"So they like to use the fist, eh?” he had a bellow like a bull. He stood spraddle-legged in front of us, his arms akimbo. He threw his head back and let out a roar of laughter. The sound echoed around the huge room. I had to strain to look up at him, he was that big.

"Sure,” I said. "What's more, I'd use them on you too, you big schmoe...."

HE THREW a punch at me that was telegraphed like a slow freight through Missouri. I ducked just as it arrived. Only I forgot about the guy behind me. I ducked backward and my head cracked against his face and came forward in a rebound, smack into that ham-like fist. I won't say it felt like being hit by a pillow. On the other hand I've been hit a lot harder, a heck of a lot. I shook my head clear and grinned up at the no longer smiling face.

"Better try again," I said. "That I can take all day."

Me and my big yap. Boy, did I take the lumps! He hit me with everything but that meat cleaver he carried at his side and he'd have probably used that except he was that mad. I was covered with blood, mine, and he was covered with glory, when he got through. At least it sounded like an ovation he got. I staggered to my feet and looked to where Hank was.

He had that beefy look around his jawbones too. It was the first time either of us had been jumped by a gang of women. I guess Hank was thankful this was one world where women didn't have the pregorative of scratching. He'd of been a lot bloodier than he was. On the other hand it isn't the most pleasant thing to have women pounding lumps on you.

But though his head was bloodied it wasn't bowed. He winked at me. I thought it looked like a wink. Of course with all that swelling around his eyes it could have been something else. I grinned back at him and the two of them turned to face the gang that had jumped us. They were standing together just in front of the dais. Evidently they'd been talking to the old goat they'd left at the table.

"I see,” Loko said, “your planet breeds stubborn men. A pity. Because we have the means to undo those stub born tongues. I would very much dislike causing any additional suffering. Unless, of course, you force my hand...."

"Perhaps,” Hank managed to get out between his puffed lips, "if we knew exactly what you wanted, we might co operate?”

Loko repeated the sixty-four dollar question again. The others gave us dirty looks and shoved their fists down to the hardware at their belts. But I was more interested in Hank. He had that thoughtful look on his face. It was kind of hard to figure what the look he had was due to the swelling. I just guessed.

"Okay!” Hank said in decisive tones. "It was like this...."

LOKO'S fingers sounded a tatoo on the table-top. He chewed his upper lip with his lower for a few seconds, then said:

“It has the ring of truth, this tale you tell. Enough to warrant a surety that in the tale is a greater part of it. I know that Oman, Luria's father, was interested in the transmigration of bodies from one sphere to another, though I didn't know he had gone so far. But the fact remains that it was an experiment, otherwise she would have met you two. Still, as things stand, perhaps she was busied in other matters....?”

One of the dames had cackled in laughter at the words. Her laugh was stilled at the look the old guy shot her. Yet it seemed to me that there wasn't anything in those mild old eyes to make me shut up that way.

"In any event, I think we had better place you in safe custody for the while. Captain Mita ..."

“Sire?”

"Have these men placed in the cage on the topmost tier. And I shall expect a vigilant guard to be put over them. They are bait for the beautiful Luria."

I got it then. It was too late to do anything about it, of course. Because even as I turned to give battle, one of the boys behind me jabbed my spine with his steel tickler, and I turned yellow like a dandelion in the spring. I was going to be a live coward.

“Okay, wise guy," I said. "You win. As for you, you big schmoe," this to the lug who had taken his picks on me, "some day you and I'll meet under better auspices and then...."

* * *

The gate clanged shut behind us. I stepped over to the pallet in the corner and sat on the straw. Hank stayed close to the bars, his back to me.

"Might as well take it easy, Hank," I said. “This looks like the kind of place that's going to grow on us. We might as well take it easy, like I say. We might

be here a long time.”

“Y'know," Hank said, "something funny happened down there. When that guard grabbed me and held my arms be hind me, I felt as though all I had to do was twist and he'd go flying.”

I sat straighter. Hank too....I winced as I grinned in reply to some thing which had occurred too. Maybe the big guy hadn't knocked me cold but he sure had damaged me a bit.

"And that does us good here," I said.

"No. Nor did it do any good down there, either. Those stickers they had, carried more weight than our fists. It's just something we ought to keep in mind. Of course, the thing to remember now is that Luria knows we're here...."

"She does?" I guess my voice was a bit on the sarcastic side. He turned like a shot and stepped to my side. I didn't like the look in his eyes.

"Listen! And get this straight!” he snapped. "I don't want any wrong cracks about that girl...."

I laughed and waved my hands in a gesture of good-will. “Just talking, Hank,” I said.

His fingers waved a pattern in front of my eyes:

"So stop talking and listen. She said she'd see us here. And not to worry."

“Not to worry, eh? Well, that's good to know. So what are we supposed to do while we're here, count the straws on the bed?"

"I don't know. She just said not to worry. That she'd get to us."

I GRUNTED something in disgust and stretched out on the straw. It got under my shirt collar, into my trousers, my ears and even in my socks. I thought, if she were going to get here, to do it soon. A little more of this and I'll go wacky. After a bit Hank got tired of supporting the bars and came down to sit by my side. He hummed a snatch of a popular tune. It was his way of being deep in thought. Me, I was also deep in thought, thought of a steak at Gus's.

I'm a bit deaf in one ear and after listening to that tuneless humming of Hank's for a while I turned my good ear to the straw and faced the wall. The masonry wasn't in too good a condition. In fact it was cracked and flakes of gray stuff lay like dandruff on the surface of the wall. I began to peel some of the stuff. It peeled like wallpaper, and like wallpaper, some of it stuck. I yanked at it, then in anger punched at it. My fist almost went through the wall.

I yelped in pain and Hank turned to see what had happened. One look and he was crawling to my side.

"Hey," he whispered in excitement. “What goes?"

"I don't know," I whispered in re turn. “But this stuff's about as strong as oatmeal mush. Have a crack at it but first put your hanky around your knuckles."

As I said before, Hank, though a small man, had the muscles and hands of a carpenter. When he slammed his wrapped fist into that masonry some thing gave and it wasn't his hand. That simply disappeared into the wall almost to his elbow. I knelt on the bed behind him, grabbed him about the middle and yanked backward. We fell off the bed as the hand came out of the wall faster than we thought.

"My God!” Hank said in disgust as he stared at the hole in the wall. "Are we dopes. There's a ram we could have used and we go around bustin' knuckles.”

I knew what he meant. The bed. It had a metal frame. In a few seconds the bed was apart. We used the long metal sides as rams. It wasn't more than a couple of seconds later that light streamed through the twin holes we made in the wall. What surprised me was that no one had heard us with all the racket we were making. But I certainly didn't care. Dust and bits of stone fell about us in a gray shower as we widened the holes into one large hole. It was big enough after a few moments for the both of us to crawl through side by side. So we did.

We came out on a sort of balcony. Since the building was circular the balcony was also circular. There was a ledge perhaps a couple of feet high acting as a break against the straight drop. I peered downward and saw that there was no escape that way. And we had to escape. Because the instant we were through, the patrons of this bastille began a caterwauling of sound that should have awakened the dead. Only it wasn't the dead we were worrying about.

"Up! The roof. It's our only chance," Hank shouted and started up the sill of the prison we'd just quitted.

The wall, I saw then, was not flat or smooth. There were serrations and rough spots which were deep in the stone. One didn't have to be an acrobat to ascend but it would have helped. Then we were on the roof.

As far as I could see we hadn't got ten anywhere except up. But Hank had other thoughts. He started at a run for the far end away from the center. I followed. What else was there to do? I saw when we got there why he had headed for it. As I said in the beginning, the buildings were constructed like pueblos. We were looking down at a set back that was only a half-story below us. Hank, being an artist, had formed a picture of what the interior had to be like from what he saw of the exterior. It was a long jump but we didn't hesitate a second. I landed in a heap beside Hank.

Instantly we were up and heading for the next set-back. We knew the alarm would not be long in sounding.

We made the second; three more to go, I thought, as we raced for the third. This time we didn't quite make it. There were many openings on this level. And as we started for the jump-off place, men began to pour from these openings. We ran like scared rabbits, but they had the speed of deer. There were some twenty or thirty waiting for us at the edge.

We slowed to a walk, then to a stop. As usual their stickers were facing our way.

"SO," LOKO said in wearied tones.

"You are strong men. Prisons do not hold ye. Then we shall have to throw ye into a something which will. I did not want to do what I am going to unless my hand was forced. Ye have forced it. Throw them into the pit...."

There were a heck of a lot more guards this time than before. Our march to this pit Loko spoke of was a regular processional. The whole blamed village turned out to see us, men, women and children. I noticed that the tribe was a tribe of warriors. All, men, women and children, bore arms. They were neither gentle in appearance or manners. We received the physical manifestations of a Bronx cheer in the parade to the pit. I learned there were many strange and ill smelling vegetables on Pola. Some of the kids threw like a Blackwell and with a bit better aim.

The guards thought it was good fun until several of them got caught in the kisser by some bad throws. Then they shagged the kids. By that time we'd reached the end of the pueblo city. The way led up and down hill for several miles. Toward the end of our journey there were just a few of the villagers left, all women. I got a very strong impression that the women were far more savage than the men. There was some thing so frightening in their bright looks, as if they would just as soon have our ends over with on the spot.

We reached our goal at last. I know I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever we had to face in the pit would not be as frightening as those women. Of course I hadn't seen the pit. I was to learn better.

It was a strange pit. For it was located on a high, or a sort of earthen, tower which stuck up like a lonely finger on the bosom of the plain. A long series of steps wound around the tor to the very top. We were forced to walk ahead, the prodding swords acting as an incentive. At the top we found an other series of steps, these leading downward from a platform on the top. I hadn't too much time to observe but in the few seconds I noticed that the top of the tor had been leveled flat so that a great many people could be accommodated on the surface.

As Hank and I wound our way down the face of the tor we noticed that circular opening had been cut into the face of the tor. Our way led evenly be tween these openings. I became aware of strange odors, bitter-sweet, an acrid stench which turned my stomach the more I got a whiff of them. We could see before we passed them, that these openings had bars before them. Odd muffled sounds were heard. Once we were startled out of our wits by a roaring sound, which, if it did come from an animal, must have been the largest beast in any world. It made a lion's roar sound like Mickey Mouse's squeak.

Going up we were close to the face and going down we were too busy in the descent. But once we reached the bottom and looked upward we saw how far we were from the top. The blasted thing looked miles away. There were fly specks on the platform way up there.

We saw them busying themselves at something. And suddenly there was a vast clattering sound and the stair down which we'd come, reversed itself. One problem was answered. If we were to escape, it would not be by way of that winding staircase.

"Shall we dance?” Hank asked.

“Yeah," I said, looking about me. "To the Dance Macabre."

HE SAW what I meant. The floor of the huge circular pit was covered by innumerable stains. One glance was enough to tell us only blood left that particular stain. As if that wasn't enough the whitened bones of hundreds of humans were scattered about. Many a party had been thrown by the lads and lassies of Loko's menage.

"D'ja notice," Hank asked, "that although the sun hasn't stopped shining for a single second we haven't felt any discomfort?”

"What's more peculiar," I reminded him, “is that we have no desire for sleep. I'm speaking for me of course.”

"Right. And I'm not hungry either." “Let's hope the zoo isn't hungry," I said.

"Could be, Berk," he said after a moment's silence, "we won't get out of this spot."

"Speaking of zoos,” I said, “wonder how our friend Mokar and his mistress are making out?”

The funniest expression came into Hank's eyes. As though he'd been clipped by a phantom punch. They looked dazed. Words stumbled their way past his lips:

“Yes ... I hear ... We will ... obey ...”

I got scared and shook the guy. That's all we needed was for Hank to get screwy on me. Things were bad enough. He came out of it okay. In fact he grinned quite like his normal self.

“What happened? Another seance with Luria?" I asked.

"Yes. Come on. We've got to get to the center of the arena. Loko wants us out of the way. His boys will be here soon."

Soon, it turned out, was that very moment. They must have been right on our heels. Suddenly the platform above was black with people. It was impossible to make out the figures of any.

“Yipe!” Hank howled. "Look!"

His quivering finger was pointing up toward the face of the tor. A huge some thing was clinging to the sheer wall just below one of the openings. Slowly it began to crawl downward. There was something horrible in that sluggishly moving shape. It moved with infinite care yet with a surety that was startling for so large a thing. As it neared the pit we saw it more clearly. I've always wondered what it meant for blood to run cold. I knew then.

It was something from out of a night mare. To a child versed in the fairy tales it was a dragon. To me, it was a prehistoric beast. It had a great triangular head and a massive body which was scaled from the head to the long tail. Wisps of smoke trailed from its nostrils. I crowded close to Hank as though in mutual protection. And he in turn began a slow retreat to the point farthest from where the beast would land.

God! It must have stretched a good fifty feet. The great head split and from the many-rowed teeth came a terrible stench. A roar split the silence of the pit as it shook its head from side to side. Then it saw us and began a cumbrous movement in our direction. We kept re treating until our backs were against the granite of the wall. It followed relentlessly, surely.

"You run one way,” Hank breathed heavily. "I'll run the other."

Perhaps the beast had been used to easier prey. For as we split up and ran for the opposite wall, it stood still, its head moving from side to side as if in wonderment at our sudden disappearance. When it finally did move it was with express train speed, the murderous tail swishing about in a vicious swing.

ONCE more we faced it together, but this time from the opposite wall. We knew, however, that the respite we had gained was small. No matter how many times we ran from it, we had no place to go except in a circle. And soon or late, we would have to stop from sheer exhaustion. Then....

Once more it lumbered toward us. And again we broke for the other wall. We were breathing a bit heavily as we faced the beast again. The faint echo of shrieking voices reached our ears and we involuntarily looked upward. We groaned in unison when we saw the reason for the shouting. They had let an other of the horrors at us. We could see the huge body crawling down the granite wall.

"Run, Berk!” a voice screamed in my ear.

We had forgotten the beast. As we had looked upward it had moved for ward, Hank spotting it first. He leaped to safety, but I wasn't that lucky. The very tip of the tail caught me as I tried to leap to one side and sent me sprawling. I said the beast had the speed of a train when it moved. I was barely on my feet when it was on me.

I had fallen close by a pile of bones. Stooping, I picked a thigh bone from the pile. And swinging it like a bat, I let the thing have it right across its ugly fire-spitting snout. Surely there was no hope or reason for my act. But I wasn't going to go down without at least one blow in my defense, no matter how puny it was.

I could only stare, open-mouthed, as the beast snorted loudly and retreated from me. With a wild yell spouting from my lips I followed it, belaboring it across the snout with my bone-bat. Hank, seeing what was taking place, came to my assistance. We were laughing, I guess in hysteria, at the way things were going, when it happened. We had forgotten that damned tail.

One sudden swish and we were both knocked from our feet. And this time there were two of them at us. The second had arrived to the festive board. Their mouths were big enough to take us in at a single gulp. I had time for one prayer, as I tried to gain my feet.

I swear their teeth were inches away when that terrific wind came up. My senses started to reel. I couldn't move a muscle, not even an eyelid. There was this wind, and this black cloud that came from nowhere. My ears rang with a shout ... "LURIA.” And blackness enfolded me in a comforting blanket.

BERK! Berk!”

Wind was sweeping past me in a constant wave. It cooled my sweaty brow. There was a strange up-and-down movement. I opened my eyes and grabbed tightly at what lay beneath me.

“You okay, kid?” Hank asked.

He was directly ahead of me, in fact so close we were twins on Mokar's back. Hank's right arm was about Luria's waist. She had saved us from the very mouths of our doom. I didn't care how she did it nor was I interested. In fact I didn't have time to worry about the fact that we were riding on the back of a panther. I only knew I was alive. It was enough for me.

But after a few moments of this pounding run I began to sit up and take notice. For one thing, Mokar was running so smoothly, in such marvelous bounds, that the action was slick as oil.

For another thing the surroundings were exotic in the extreme.

We were in the midst of jungle-land The trees were magnificent in their height and variety. Birds of brilliant colored plumage sang from bush and branch. The air was invigorating and surprisingly free of humidity. Mokar was sure-footed. His lithe shape never disturbed a single branch as he moved along an invisible trail. Luria sat high up on his body close to the muscled shoulders. She was clothed in the same sort of costume I saw on the warrior women by Loko's side. A slender, needle-tipped spear was couched along one elbow. She looked straight ahead.

The jungle ended abruptly and we entered a grassy plain set in gently rolling hills. Mokar's pace never slackened though our weight must have been considerable even for him. The miles flew by in endless procession. Then with a suddenness that took my breath away, while we were in the midst of what looked like bundles of straw, hundreds of shapes came to life.

The bundles of what I thought had been straw, were humans. And not a single one of them was a man. I didn't hear Luria give voice to any command, yet Mokar slowed his pace and after a very short while stopped running altogether. Luria slid from his back and Hank and I followed, although more gingerly. In an instant we were surrounded by the hundreds of chattering women. They're the same all over, the instant you give them a chance to yattete, they start full blast.

I'll say this for Luria. She didn't give them too much opportunity to work their jaws on talk. Her arm with the spear held high shot up and silence fell among the warrior-women. As they gathered close I looked them over. There were short ones, tall ones, slim ones and fat ones, beauties and ugly ones, calm ones and those whose eyes looked fierce enough to frighten Boris Karloff. In other words, they looked no different than those on the planet we'd quitted what seemed like years before.

NOT all were giving Luria attention.

There were some who stole glances at us. There was one in particular. She was rather tall, certainly taller than I, whose hair was the color of molten gold, whose eyes were sapphires swimming in a sea of pearl. Her bosom rose high and well-formed in the breastplate she wore. And as she saw my admiring glance her breath quickened and her face flushed. I made a mental note that if the time ever came for talk, I'd for get to.

Luria nodded for us to step to her side. Then, as the others faced us, Luria began to talk:

"These are the ones I promised to bring. The secret my father, the great Oman, taught me has been put to use. But as he warned, I could not bring other than their bodies. More, I could not foresee the place of their arrival.

"So misfortune came to them. One of Loko's bands found them before I could reach them, and brought them before the tyrant. Warriors! Loko threw them into the pit...."

A gasp of horror went up at the words.

"Yes," Luria went on. “Into the pit. Strangers on the planet of Pola. Loko violated again the holiest words of my father. Oh, that he were alive...."

"Mighty Oman, may his soul leave the place of its abode and help us,” the women intoned solemnly.

Hank and I kept stealing puzzled glances at each other. But our curiosity had to contain itself. We knew that a lot of answers would soon be given.

"... His thousand years of reign brought Pola a great peace after the tens of thousands of years of wars. Now Loko has it in mind to break that peace. He has even enlisted the aid of men...."

This time the women's voices rose in a vast shout of anger. And once more Luria went on:

"....Aye! Men like Hostal, and Mita and others of his ilk. That was why I went out of our time and place into another. To bring back the sex which once ruled. Our men have grown soft to the ways of war. They have grown soft because the years have made them that way. Look at the weapons of our fighting. Swords, spears and knives. But we are fortunate. Loko and his min ions have no choice in this matter. We must prevent Loko and his from gaining the upper hand. Else we all become slaves to his will...."

It was all going in one ear and out the other. But not Hank. He got it right away. I was just in time to see the heat of anger come to his eyes and face, but not in time to stop him. Whirling swiftly, he puled Luria about until she was facing him.

“So that's why you brought me here? As a guinea pig! As a symbol for these Lysistrata of yours...."

Luria didn't take his fingers from her wrist. Instead, she motioned for the other dames to halt; at the very touch of Hank's fingers, swords flashed in the bright sunlight and bodies tensed.

"Did you think it was because of your manly beauty?" she asked. “Or because of your charm?"

Hank's fingers fell away from her wrist. The flush of anger still lighted his lean long face. But there was a tinge of frustration in his eyes. Perhaps he had assumed it might have been because of some such reasons.

"I brought you here, you and this ugly wart of a man whom you call friend, because you were the vessel in which the fluid of my father's wisdom coagulated. Only you heard the call. And because this Berk was your friend did I allow him with you...."

"Okay, babe," Hank said evenly. "You called, we answered. Now I don't like the set-up. So suppose you send us right back to the place you got us from.”

"You pout prettily," Luria said. "How like must this Earth be to our planet. Here, too, the men pout if we do not give them their way."

DAMNED her and could have kicked Hank. He kept opening his yap and she kept putting her foot in it.

"Yes," I said. "We have all the manners of men. But I gather you are not too well-acquainted with all the ways. Perhaps it's in the cards that you're going to learn."

"Aah! He gives a twist to words and has no fear that they will rebound to confound him," Luria said, turning her attention to me.

I didn't care. There wasn't a dame alive on this or any planet I couldn't argue with or against.

"Yep. I have no fear. Only in your tears do you have immunity...."

"Tears! Do you take me for a man?”

I gave her a slow up-and-down. This time it was she who burned bright red. I knew my look was an insult. I'd already figured the score. If we were playing Lysistrata then the boy friends and husbands of these Amazons were weak kneed neutrals.

"Not the way you stack up, kid," I said.

I guess it was insult direct. Only the answer to it came from an unexpected corner. My head rocked from a blow and I staggered a bit before I recovered my balance. When my head cleared I saw it was the luscious dish whom I'd been admiring who stood facing me.

"It is not meet that our leader, whose toes you are too low to touch, should deal you the punishment you deserve. But I, who am the smallest of her servants, can...."

These babes sure could yell. All they needed was one of their number to open up and they were ready with the howling. I looked at Luria who had a half grin on her lips.

“Teach the little toad a lesson,” Luria said.

"Hey!” I called in protest as an immense circle formed about us. "I can't hit a woman."

And once more my head rocked as she planted one right on the jawbone. Well, woman or no, she wasn't playing for fun. I stepped back, danced around a bit to loosen up my leg muscles, put up my dukes and, whammm! Something hit me with the force of a mule's kick.

"Berk," a voice called from a long distance off. “Get up. Don't let her look like a champ...."

There were ten suns up there, and a million women at least. Then my head cleared and there was that beautiful pan looking down at me. I motioned for her to step back and got to my feet.

"Okay, kiddo," I said, snuffling the claret back up my nostrils. "You asked for it. Come and get it."

Then bing, bing, bing, faster than the telling takes, she let me have it.

Gosh, I thought. They got the sweet est-singing birds out here. And angels, too. My, what a place. Just like heaven. And once more that voice called me. I was beginning to dislike Mister Sharpe. Why didn't he take a couple of lumps? Was I supposed to take them all?

The birds I thought I heard was the strident sound of all those bags yelling, and the angels' faces were not so angelic, once my vision cleared. My knees were on the wobbly side. My glamour puss could hit like Louis. I assayed a grin but yipped in pain instead.

"Enough?” the dear girl asked.

I SHOOK my head. I'm a stubborn dope in some ways. But the memory of the giant who'd taken his picks on me had come to mind and suddenly I wanted to haul off at something.

I motioned her forward with beckoning fingers. This time I got there fust. Instead of hitting with my right, I closed the beckoning fingers of my left hand and jabbed her right on the point of her stubborn chin. Her head went back and my right came over, but with all I had on it. There was a sharp crack! And baby went sailing through the air to land on a pillow of grass some fifteen feet from where we were battling.

They proved they were the opposite sex, then. Their voices rose like banshees on the prowl and with a single concerted howl they made for me. Nor were they joking. They had those three feet long stickers out and aimed right for Hank and myself. Again Luria stopped them:

"Halt! Are we men that we attack like animals? Besides, Lovah has not signified defeat."

I cursed the day I'd ever seen this woman, the day I'd ever met Henry Sharpe, and most of all the day I went to the zoo with him. Now I was on a spot. This Lovah could just be that stubborn as not to give up easily.

Several of the gals had gone to Lovah's assistance. The kid was on the wobbly side as they brought her for ward. My punch had raised a lump on the side of her jaw. And her eyes didn't quite have that superior look as she tried to look into mine.

“Better take it easy, kid," I said, picking my words carefully. “There's no sense in beating each other silly. You're far too pretty to get messed up...."

I guess it was the first time anyone had called her pretty. Though why not was a mystery to me. She could make my breakfast any morning of the week.

Her left hand came up and caressed the swelling and her eyes became a lot more natural, and something of speculation showed in the deep blue. I held my breath, waiting for her answer. I blew it out in a deep sigh when she said:

"Enough ... for the while,” Lovah said.

Only Luria was smart enough to get the game I'd played.

"You are clever with words," she said, and this time there was no scorn in her voice. "Well, call your mounts. Enough time has been wasted...."

It was a command which was instantly obeyed. A tuneless whistling went up and like black demons called from their pits, hundreds of black panthers, much like Mokar in appearance, though none so large, rose, as though from the very ground. They loped for ward and the women mounted them.

Lovah gestured for me to step to her side. I did and she motioned for me to mount behind her. Then at a signal from Luria, who had again taken Hank be hind her, we were off.

"Say, beautiful,” I said as we started, "you got a wallop. What's more you got a whole lot more that appeals to me...."

She turned and looked deeply into my eyes. Her face became oddly soft, then, with the speed of light, it changed and as she drove her elbow into my belly, knocking the wind from me, she said:

"You got a wallop, too...."

AT FIRST I thought it was suburbia.

At least a real-estate agent's dream development. They called it Gayno, but it could have been the community of El Rancho Grande, for all of me. It was a community of well-laid-out homes, all single-storied, with the most modern architectural designs; sloping roofs, glass walls, patios and terraces to take advantage of shade and sun gave it the House Beautiful look.

When we were still several hundred yards from the village of homes the women lifted their voices in a sort of musical chant. It was the first I knew their voices could be soft and charmingly feminine. Then as we swept into the level grass-filled width of street a host of men and children came from the houses and followed us to one set apart from the rest. Luria, in the lead, drew Mokar up to the shallow series of steps leading to the door of the house, and dismounted. Lovah kicked her panther beside Mokar and with a well-placed blow of her elbow, knocked me from the animal. As she wheeled him around, she turned her face to me and winked broadly.

I sighed deeply and got to my feet and walked to the side of Hank and the girl. I had an idea that this Lovah baby wasn't too displeased with me.

"Well, come in," Luria said.

The other women scattered as we fol lowed the girl into the house. If I thought the exteriors of the homes looked like something out of House Beautiful, the interiors took my breath away. Wow! Two-level interiors with an incline leading to a combination dining and living room on the second story. The first floor had four walls of colored glass which softened the sun's rays and gave them a subdued and marvelous brilliance which somehow did not hurt the eyes. There was a wondrous air of peace and serenity in this house.

Luria slumped wearily into a deep piled chair after throwing off her belt and helmet. There were a couple of sofas facing each other across a gigantic coffee table. Hank and I sat side by side on one, so that we were in profile to the girl. To our left was a raised fire place of colored stones. Above it, on the mantle, were some statuary, primitives, from the looks of them. At sight of them, Hank arose and examined them closely.

"Say! These are truly wonderful. Who was the carver?”

"One of my servants," Luria said in answer. But her mind was elsewhere. She shook her head after a second or so, looked up to Hank and said, “Care for a beverage?"

"Sure," I said. "Make mine Scotch and water."

Hank was still deep in study of the small statue. He turned and said:

"Servant? Why that's criminal! Some one with a positive talent for creative work, someone with the ability of this person whoever he may be, should certainly not be a servant!"

“Sit down,” Luria said. It wasn't said in anger but rather in an almost supplicating tone.

HANK sat deep in a corner of the wide sofa. To my surprise she walked around the arm of the sofa, past the coffee table and faced us. She studied us for a second, then spoke:

"You are strangers here, in a strange land, among strange people who have strange customs. I don't have any doubts but that you will both have to spend the rest of your natural lives here. My father discovered the secret of transmigration of bodies. But it is still a mystery to me how he returned them.

“Therefore I beg of both of you to take what I have to say to heart. There should be a beginning, I know. But that beginning goes back into an antiquity greater and more distant than any you know. I saw a something in your eyes the instant you entered my home. I think I interpreted it correctly. You both marveled that you should find something approximating your own civilized world, after a visit to the world of Loko.

"Then let me start from there. For it is in that you might best understand. Here, you have a ready comparison. This land of Gayno and Loko's world. Further, when my father lived, there were better worlds, finer cities, greater cultures. But death came to him as it must come to all and though he lived to be eleven hundred and sixty-four years...."

I couldn't help it. Eleven hundred and sixty-four years! I grunted an un intelligible something. She caught on fast.

"Unbelievable, isn't it? That one can live so many years?' she asked.

Hank got the connotation of her re mark before I did. He squinted at her and said:

"And I suppose you're in your....?”

“I am nine hundred and twenty-four years old,” she said.

"Pretty well-preserved for your age, I'd say,” I said.

"Lovah is almost a thousand years old," she said.

I thought that was nasty of her. But it was like a woman. I grinned weakly. "Touché," I said.

“Let's get back to your father,” Hank suggested

"Very well,” she replied. “In the last forty years of my father's reign, a small border clash became a conflagration which set all of Pola aflame. He did not know it at the time, but there were some who were envious of his power. They plotted his downfall and overcame his legions. It turned into a war of utter annihilation. When it was over, there was nothing left of culture, civilization, or people. Here and there were scattered the fragments of humanity.

“They went back to living as they had done thousands of years ago. They had to do this because my father in his great wisdom, realizing the finality of the battle, doomed the terror weapons of the time and erased their marks for ever. We, the offspring of that terrible time, had only the means you see of waging war, a sword, a spear and a knife.

"So we had to make the best of things. For my people I chose the standard of living which best suited our time. I utilized the forms of home architecture which because of the constant sun light would be most suitable. But, as I said before, we were scattered over the entire face of Pola, Loko, who was the ringleader and the only one of the Inner Council to survive the war, went back even further in antiquity for the plans of his community. But he wasn't interested in how his people lived. He still had it in mind and to this day is obsessed, by his overweening desire to be the ruler of the planet of Pola...."

SHE paused for a breath. And in that moment I thought, baby, you got a right to tell some one else they're clever with words. You don't have to take a back seat to anybody when it comes to making with the lip.

"Aside from the physical manifestations of what transpired with Berk and myself," Hank spoke up like a good scientist, "there are certain questions which are bothering me. I would appreciate it very much if an answer were forthcoming.

"Now then, I believe I am assuming correctly, when I say that Pola and the planet from which we have come are existing in the same spheres of time and place....?"

Oh boy, I thought. Good old Sharpe! Now he's going to make like he knows what he's talking about. Of course Hank always had a sharp mind, if I'm allowed a pun. He was proving it now.

Luria answered the question in the seconds I was in thought:

“That is right."

"Well," Hank said in a speculative tone, "that proved a theory which some men have always held. Now another question. How is it you speak, in fact all the people we have met speak, our tongue, English?”

Luria smiled and arose and walked to a near wall. A heavy ribbon-like cord hung against the wall. She puled at it and from somewhere in the house a bell sounded in answer to the bell-pull. She came back to the sofa and snuggled up in a corner.

"The tongue we speak is universal on Pola,” she said. The instant you landed you too, spoke our tongue.”

It wasn't a satisfactory answer but I supposed it had to do. Hank wasn't through, however.

“That doesn't make sense. Try this; what is the Groana bird and why is it holy?"

We had to wait for the answer to that. A husky, masculine voice said: "Greatness ... You rang?"

We turned and there was a man who wearing a sort of lava-lava for a costume. His hairy chest was bare as were his legs. Muscles rippled along the shoulders and arms and as he bent his legs knotted with muscles. He was close to six feet in height.

“Yes, Hioa,” Luria said. “My guests are thirsty...."

He shook his head and as silently as he had come, left.

"All your men, servants?" Hank asked.

She nodded. "If not so in fact, in theory," she replied.

"A nation of women," I said. "All wrong.'

“By Earthly standards,” she said turning to me. “But as I said in the be ginning you must understand our customs are not as yours. Here, the women are the rulers. Men have only a minor part in the business of state."

I was tempted to ask something but I didn't think it to be the time.

"... Only Loko has changed those conditions of servitude," Luria went on. "Since the dawn of the new era, women took over the duties which men served so dishonorably before. All went well until Loko thought the time ripe. Secretly, he trained his minions in the arts of war, and when he thought the time was ripe, began his campaign. He has a clever tongue. Not only did he manage to train the men of his tribe but he also convinced the warrior women of the Federation it was only for the purpose of waging war upon me that he did so. And that when he had defeated me he would relegate them to their former positions."

“And the Groana Bird?” Hank asked again.

"The Groana Bird is the symbol by which we will conquer," Luria said. “It is the most ancient of all living beings on Pola. It holds the secret of all things. It means success or failure. Once it sat on my father's right hand. Now it roams free and unfettered in the forest. We all seek it. And find it I must even if I have to go into the valley of the mists...."

MY EARS pricked up at the sound of a screaming voice. I thought I was mistaken, but the voice sounded masculine. The screaming came closer. Then another voice joined it, this one raised in anger, and this one decidedly feminine. Hank and the girl heard the sounds also. An expression of displeasure crossed her face. She rose and start ed down the ramp. Hank and I followed.

We arrived at the front door simultaneously, Luria, Hank, I and the two who were screaming. Luria flung the door wide and a giant of a man sprawled to his knees before her. Behind him, some few feet came a short scrawny woman who held in one hand a thick club.

"Ohh, Greatness ..." the character on his knees babbled. "Save me from Haavah. Save me...."

The women skidded to halt before us. The sounds of the screaming had brought others to their doors. I could see children huddled close to their father's knees. From the houses closest to ours, several women strolled over in curiosity. But at sight of the guy on his knees before us and the scrawny babe who was standing with the club hanging limply from one hand, smiles broke on their lips. It was evident this story was not new to them.

"Now what is it, Jimno?” Luria asked in

"Haavah," the man babbled in a bass voice which Ezio Pinza would have been proud to possess, "she beats me....I swear I have done nothing to deserve the beatings....”

"He lies, the idiot," the woman said. "In his teeth. Ten years we have been together. A simple thing like soup, and he burns it. It has become unbearable. I awake and it takes him a lifetime to make breakfast. Our children are the worst-dressed in the whole village. All he wants to do is sing...."

"Now ain't that too bad?” I said be fore Luria could say anything. "All he wants to do is sing, eh? Well, maybe we shouldn't waste sympathy on him. After all, he's so big and you're so small. I'm sure if he ever decided to give you your lumps, you'd be in bed for a week. Of course, he might have a bit of peace...."

"Quiet,” Luria spat at me in anger. "I give the orders and dispense the justice in these cases."

"Sure,” Hank said. "Close your trap. If we ever tell these characters that they're living in a fool's paradise they'll tear these women limb from limb...."

I swear that beautiful face turned livid in anger. She turned on Hank and slapped him right across the cheek. He went pale in anger and I saw his hands clench into bony fists. For the barest second I thought he was going to haul off and slug her. How he held back from doing it I don't know. I'm sure I couldn't have. Instead, he turned on his heels and went back into the house. It was a mistake. Because I observed that the guy on his knees had been watching.

There was a bright light in his eyes when Hank talked up like he did. But when Hank did the disappearing act, the light died.

The anger in Luria's face went into her voice:

"Haavah! We are becoming weary of this constant strife between you and Jimno. If it is true what you say and that you are as tired of it as you say, then haul him up before the bar of justice and have them sentence Jimno to the breaking of paarans to the halter.

A CHANGE came over the woman's face at Luria's words. It reflected fear and horror now.

"Great Luria," the woman bleated. "Not that."

“And why not?' Luria asked. “He is of little use to you. Further he causes nothing but trouble. He sings when he should be doing the housework, he burns the soup, lets the children run ragged and uncared for, is lazy and a dozen other things. You will be better rid of him...."

“And he of her," I put in.

“But ... the paavans. They have killed some who have tried to break them to the halter...."

"So he'll have a chance to prove he's either man or mouse," I said. “Certainly he's big enough as a man. H'm. If I had you for a wife, I'd know who'd do the housework and care for the kids. We teach women differently on Earth...."

"How is it done on Earth?" the man asked suddenly. He was still on his knees but his body was erect. And he was looking straight at me. So stunned were the two women by Jimno's temerity in speaking to me without asking their permission, they could only stare.

"She'd fit just right over your knee,'' I said quickly. “A couple of smacks with one of those palms and she'd be have, believe me...."

“Quiet, you!" Luria stormed.

But Haavah wielded a more efficient means of silence. She raised her club and clouted Jimno across the back of the head. A ripple of laughter ran across the narrow circle which had formed about the woman and her husband, as the man folded up in middle and sank face downward to the ground.

"Take him away,” Luria said. To the paavans' compound. Let him break six of the beasts to the halter."

Suddenly I felt sick. Me and my big mouth. What had I done? Maybe I had sentenced a man to death? Anger whipped my voice to a frenzied shout:

"So this is the stuff from which you want us to weld a fighting force? And how do you expect us to work it, by the women whipping their men to us?"

From the corner of my eye I saw the man stir, shake his head and slowly get to his feet. Only I got the air of ominous quiet with which he moved. The rest watched him arise and an air of watchful waiting settled among the women. Dimly I felt someone standing by the door behind us. At the same time I realized that other doorways hid other watchers.

The woman, called Haavah, waited only until Jimno stood erect. Then with a movement that was altogether at variance with her scrawny self, she leaped forward and swung the club at the same time.

Man oh man, if I had ever been slugged like that I know I'd never have been able to duck that club. But he did. Then like a boxer who'd been hit hard and wanted to weather the storm, he ducked and weaved under and past the swinging club. The women thought the whole thing the funniest thing they'd ever seen. They laughed as the poor guy ducked, and once or twice they literally screamed in hysteria as the club barely missed the curly black hair.

When he did move it was with the speed of a striking snake. One second he was under the club, the next his fingers had wrapped themselves around it. With one twist it was pulled from her. He chuckled deep in his throat as he tossed it to one side. He motioned her forward. She didn't come so he stepped toward her. I yelled a warning as her hand sped to her belt. But he was speed personified as his hand beat hers to it. He twisted with an effortless movement of his wrist and her hand fell from the belt.

It was his free hand which went toward the belt now. I saw a dozen hands go for weapons as his fingers went about the circle of leather. He yanked downward and the leather parted. This too he tossed to one side. All the while his right hand held her wrist prisoner.

“Ten years, Haavah,"his voice lifted in a singing shout. “Ten years...."

I'LL SAY this. Her face showed not the smallest sign of fear as he whirled her so that her back was to him. Then he had lifted her from her feet and dropping to one knee he laid her across that knee. She squirmed like a fish in a net and like that same fish found all her squirming without avail. His hand lifted and fell, palm downward. It listed and fell. At first there was no sound but the heavy breathing of the two. But after the tenth whack on the woman's posterior, a whimper fled her lips. The whim per became a moan which later became a sobbing sound. It was strange but not a woman stirred or spoke while he was administering the spanking. Nor did any lift a voice when he was done and said:

"Go, woman, and prepare me food.

Jimno stood tall and proud and faced his queen.

"The sentence still stands, Jimno," she said. "Haavah will cook and keep your house afterward. Beating her proves nothing."

"It proves he is a man," I said.

"Not by your standards. My women and I too, have broken the paavans to the halter. Let him go and try to do it. Then we can talk of manhood...."

"What is a paavan?" I asked. "Mokar is a paavan...."

I turned and without a word went back into the house. I saw a shape slide into a passageway. I only got a glimpse of the figure. It was that of a man and the man was Hioa.

Hank was deep in the sofa, cuddled up against one arm. He didn't hear me come in what with the depth of the car pet and for another thing he was deep in thought. I slid into the opposite chair and waited for him to come out of his brown study.

His eyes were bleak and bitter when he finally did turn. "Nice going, Sharpe," he said aloud. But he wasn't talking to me. He was talking to himself. "Now you can join the rest of the eunuchs...."

"Aah, cut it out," I said in disgust. "What the heck makes you that way. The gal's nuts about you."

"Sure. Just like that scrawny dame was about her man. Luria's probably been figuring in what womanly capacity I'd do best. Well, if she thinks I'm going to cook or scrub floors...."

I knew there was one way of breaking Hank from his thoughts. He wasn't the kind of guy who looked good playing cry-baby. For one thing he was too big a man and I don't mean in size. But we had undergone a very strange and mystifying ordeal. Not that I'm such a big Joe about something like that. It's just that I'm thicker-skinned. Besides, I had some long range plans, most of which had to do with a Lovah gal. So I gave him the business about my troubles:

"... You got worries," I broke in. "Your worries I should have...."

"What do you mean?"

"I just sentenced a guy to maybe his death."

"Huh?"

"Sure. I made with a yuck and those

screwy dames, or rather, that screwy dame, Luria, sentenced the poor Joe to break Mokar's buddies to the halter."

"She would,” Hank said sourly.

"Yeah. And after he gave that silly frau of his a good tanning," I said.

“You mean the guy stood up for his rights?”

“That he did.”

"H’m. Then maybe all hope is not lost. Where's Luria?"

"Don't ask me. I had to walk away from it all.”

“What do you want?” her voice asked from the direction of the ramp.

“One thing only, my pet,” Hank said. "What is it you want of us exactly?”

"Just one thing. Teach my menfolk how to battle.”

"Okay. But first teach your menfolk how to be men,” Hank said.

And that was that for the evening or morning or whatever time it was in that land of eternal sun....

THERE were twin beds in the sleeping rooms Luria had given us. Hank and I slept in our undies. When we awoke we awoke to find the rest of our garments gone. In their places were breastplates and helmets such as Captain Mita and the other men in Loko's world, wore. We even had the long and short stickers to go in the belt that came with the metal apron that went over the short pants,

"She doesn't miss a trick,” Hank said wearily as he stepped into the modern bathroom adjoining our bedroom. I heard the splashing sound of water but I was too engrossed in putting on the uniform which had been provided for me. Nor was it a bad fit. The only thing large was the breastplate. Of course I realized after a try-on, they weren't meant for a man.

The bathroom had everything but razors. My beard which is of a dark

texture anyway hadn't known a blade's touch for several days, in fact from the looks of it, for a week. I remembered then that the few men I'd seen were either smooth-shaven or were hairless on the face. Hank gave a last sputter and stepped up from the sunken shower. He was rubbing himself with a fuzzy towel.

"Ain't none. I looked. Guess no one shaves out here. How do they fit?"

I did a double-take at the words, then grinned at him. He had guessed at my tardiness. I told him and he answered my grin.

"Oh, well. Go on, take your shower. I'll see you later."

He wasn't in the room when I came back. Neither was his war garb. I donned mine and stepped out into the passage leading to the ramp. Here the bedrooms were on the lower floor. The two of them were already eating when I arrived. Hank gave me an okay sign with his thumb and index fingers, but the girl didn't even look up. We ate in silence.

"Well,” she said after a last drink of something that looked like coffee but tasted like something else only better, "now that we're awake, suppose we get started?"

"You bet," I said, "and what does your greatness want us to do?”

"... When we get there," she threw over her shoulder as she started for the door.

I gulped audibly when I saw what was awaiting us. Mokar and two of his brothers. Luria mounted her beast and looked to us. Hank and I did an Al ponce-Gaston act for a couple of seconds, then with ill-concealed reluctance, stepped to the sides of our mounts. Those darned animals must have sensed our fear. As I started to lift my leg he turned his head and showed me his fangs.

They were very pretty. I wondered who his dentist was, as I shied, but fast, from the spot I was in. Hank, on the other hand, had a lot more guts than I wanted to have. When his mount tried to pull a similar stunt, Hank cracked him over the nose. The beast's head came up and sideways. Hank slapped him again and jerked at the halter. Instantly the panther obeyed. Then Hank slid in the saddle.

And that left me on the ground.

“Oh, come now, nimble-tongue," Luria needled me. "We can't spend all day here."

“We can't?" I parried beautifully.

She looked past me and I turned to follow her glance. Directly behind us were a dozen of the biggest women I've ever seen. Not a single one was under six feet in height. And all were armed. As though in answer to a signal, one of them jabbed at me with one of those ten feet-long spears they carried. It barely touched me, but that tip had a needle for a point. I yipped in pain and alarm. Then with a single leap I was in the shallow saddle. Teeth or no teeth, that spear was sharper.

We hadn't far to go. And after a while I got to rather like the ride. Those panthers ran like the wind and the movement didn't have the up-and-down feeling of a horseback ride. Our destination was a valley. The valley was natural but it had been fenced in by a staked fence. There was a gate at the end we had arrived at. One of the warrior women dismounted and opened it. We rode in and found ourselves on a wide ledge overlooking the sheer drop to the almost circular valley below.

Read Part 2